Read Online Blackwater: The Complete Caskey Family Saga by Michael McDowell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael McDowell
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come to Perdido? What does she want? How did she get James to ask her to come and live with him? Has James ever asked any other young lady to sit at his table?”
“No, Mama, of course not. But Miss Elinor answered all those questions. Oscar told you all the answers. She came from Fayette County, and she came down here to teach. She heard there was an opening.”
“There wasn’t!”
“Then she was wrong, Mama, but there’s an opening now. Miz McGhee has already sent three postcards from Tallahassee. That’s what I heard.”
“She made that opening.”
“She didn’t, Mama. How can you say that? The flood made that opening. High water caused that vacancy in the schoolroom!”
Mary-Love frowned and stood from her chair. “I haven’t seen her pass a window in ten minutes. I wonder what she’s doing in there? I’ll bet she’s plundering drawers!”
“She’s helping clean up. James told me he had never seen anybody work as hard as she did in a house that wasn’t her own.”
Mary-Love sat down again and began plying her needle furiously. “You know what I think, Sister? I think she gone try to talk James into getting a divorce from Genevieve so she can take right over. That’s why she’s working so hard on that house—because she thinks it’s gone be hers! A divorce! Can you even think of it, Sister?”
“Mama, you cain’t stand Genevieve.”
“Well, I don’t think James should get a divorce. I think Genevieve should die or go away forever. What does James need with a wife? James has got little Grace—now is that child sweet? And he has got you and me and Oscar right next door. If James wanted, I would cut down every last one of these camellia bushes—they’re practically dead now anyway—and he could see us every time he looked out the window. You know what kind of thing makes James happy? Buying silver. I have seen him do it. He sees a cake knife he doesn’t have, his face shines . A fish slicer?—the same thing, a shining face. Now, with all that, not to mention the mill to keep him busy and raising a little girl, what on earth does he need a wife for?”
It was a peculiar thing that no scandal was breathed in the length and width of Perdido over the fact that James Caskey, a well-off man who was mercifully separated from his wife, had invited a very pretty, unattached, and penniless young woman to share his home. The people of Perdido looked at it this way: here was a teacher come to town, whose money and certificates and clothing had been lost in the flood. She needed a place to stay until she got on her feet. James Caskey had this big house with at least two extra bedrooms in it and he had a little girl who could use a woman around to teach her manners, and with his wife off in Nashville doing nobody-dared-suggest-what, James himself needed somebody to talk to at supper. At the same time, everybody whistled and wondered what Genevieve would say, if only Genevieve knew. Elinor Dammert was smart; people could tell that just by looking at her. And Elinor Dammert probably had a temper; anybody with hair that color had a temper. But whether Elinor Dammert could stand up to Genevieve Caskey was a question charitable people hoped would never be put to the test.
. . .
The damage inflicted by the floodwaters had not been confined to animals and man-made objects. Flowers, shrubs, and trees had perished by the thousands, and the whole town had to be replanted. The most extensive damage had been to the Caskey grounds. All the trees had been uprooted. There were no more crape myrtles or roses, no more beds of day lilies, bearded irises, and King Alfreds, no more hedges of oleander and ligustrum, no more specimens of hawthorn or Japanese magnolia. The azaleas remained in their beds around the house, but they were dead. The camellias looked dead, but Bray said they had survived and Mary-Love accepted his opinion—at any rate, she did not demand that they be dug up. And certainly there was no more
“No, Mama, of course not. But Miss Elinor answered all those questions. Oscar told you all the answers. She came from Fayette County, and she came down here to teach. She heard there was an opening.”
“There wasn’t!”
“Then she was wrong, Mama, but there’s an opening now. Miz McGhee has already sent three postcards from Tallahassee. That’s what I heard.”
“She made that opening.”
“She didn’t, Mama. How can you say that? The flood made that opening. High water caused that vacancy in the schoolroom!”
Mary-Love frowned and stood from her chair. “I haven’t seen her pass a window in ten minutes. I wonder what she’s doing in there? I’ll bet she’s plundering drawers!”
“She’s helping clean up. James told me he had never seen anybody work as hard as she did in a house that wasn’t her own.”
Mary-Love sat down again and began plying her needle furiously. “You know what I think, Sister? I think she gone try to talk James into getting a divorce from Genevieve so she can take right over. That’s why she’s working so hard on that house—because she thinks it’s gone be hers! A divorce! Can you even think of it, Sister?”
“Mama, you cain’t stand Genevieve.”
“Well, I don’t think James should get a divorce. I think Genevieve should die or go away forever. What does James need with a wife? James has got little Grace—now is that child sweet? And he has got you and me and Oscar right next door. If James wanted, I would cut down every last one of these camellia bushes—they’re practically dead now anyway—and he could see us every time he looked out the window. You know what kind of thing makes James happy? Buying silver. I have seen him do it. He sees a cake knife he doesn’t have, his face shines . A fish slicer?—the same thing, a shining face. Now, with all that, not to mention the mill to keep him busy and raising a little girl, what on earth does he need a wife for?”
It was a peculiar thing that no scandal was breathed in the length and width of Perdido over the fact that James Caskey, a well-off man who was mercifully separated from his wife, had invited a very pretty, unattached, and penniless young woman to share his home. The people of Perdido looked at it this way: here was a teacher come to town, whose money and certificates and clothing had been lost in the flood. She needed a place to stay until she got on her feet. James Caskey had this big house with at least two extra bedrooms in it and he had a little girl who could use a woman around to teach her manners, and with his wife off in Nashville doing nobody-dared-suggest-what, James himself needed somebody to talk to at supper. At the same time, everybody whistled and wondered what Genevieve would say, if only Genevieve knew. Elinor Dammert was smart; people could tell that just by looking at her. And Elinor Dammert probably had a temper; anybody with hair that color had a temper. But whether Elinor Dammert could stand up to Genevieve Caskey was a question charitable people hoped would never be put to the test.
. . .
The damage inflicted by the floodwaters had not been confined to animals and man-made objects. Flowers, shrubs, and trees had perished by the thousands, and the whole town had to be replanted. The most extensive damage had been to the Caskey grounds. All the trees had been uprooted. There were no more crape myrtles or roses, no more beds of day lilies, bearded irises, and King Alfreds, no more hedges of oleander and ligustrum, no more specimens of hawthorn or Japanese magnolia. The azaleas remained in their beds around the house, but they were dead. The camellias looked dead, but Bray said they had survived and Mary-Love accepted his opinion—at any rate, she did not demand that they be dug up. And certainly there was no more
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