Read Online Dorothy Garlock by More Than Memory - Free Book Online Page B

When he grinned, her heart did a rapid flip-flop. “I was a leader for a couple of years. Even the boys learn to cook these days, so I learned right along with the kids and we picked up a few blue
ribbons at the fair.” The bread popped up, and he stood to pluck it from the toaster. Holding a slice out to her, he asked, “More?”
    “I believe I will,” she responded, surprised at her own appetite.
    “Good. Hand me your plate and put more toast in for me. I’ve just gotten started.”
    “I saw Linda Sharp the other day. She’s Linda Branson now. She was the best student in my homemaking class.”
    “I can understand that. She did most of the cooking at home—plus taking care of her brother and sister.”
    “Do you know her husband?”
    “He’s a mechanic at the garage . . . when he isn’t drinking in one of the joints.”
    “Poor Linda. I remember her going to the Town Pump after school to see if her mother was there.”
    “There isn’t anything wrong with going to the Town Pump if you know when to leave. Linda’s folks spent more money on booze than they did on groceries.”
    The conversation between them was impersonal and nonstop. Nelda finally got up the courage to risk a direct question.
    “How many acres do you farm, Lute?” She quaked inwardly; it was her first inquiry about his personal life.
    “A section, not counting yours. I also own the sale barn.” He smiled an endearing smile that lifted the corners of his mouth and spread a warm light into his eyes.
    “Do you have help?”
    “I have a hired man who lives with his family in our tenant house—and other help. Wouldn’t the captain be surprised to know that I didn’t end up in the gutter after all?” Although he was smiling when he started to speak, by the time he finished, the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a steely cold gleam.
    Nelda hesitated. If she answered his jibe she would have to say that, yes, her father would be surprised. She could remember with clarity his words regarding Lute:
You’ve not got a pot to piss in, nor has your old man. All he knows how to do is scratch in the dirt out on that hardscrabble farm his daddy left him
. How galling it must have been for Lute!
    Lute gave her a sharp glance, and then lowered his eyes to his plate.
I never thought my daughter would stoop so low as to get herself knocked up by a rutting, wet-eared, hog-slopping hayseed
. The humiliating words her father uttered that day that would stay with him forever.
    The atmosphere was suddenly cooler. Her heart sank as she realized that he was putting her on trial, too. She hoped her stomach would settle down and that she wouldn’t burst into tears again.
    She pushed back her chair. “Would you like some coffee?”
    “No, thanks. I’ve got to be going. Mom’s putting sweet corn in the freezer tomorrow, and I promised her that I’d pick and husk it tonight.”
    “In the dark?”
    “I’ve got a light on the tractor. Mom wants to
get it done. She’s going to California at the end of the week to visit her sister.” He squatted down beside Kelly and fondled the dog’s ears. “He’ll be out for a while yet. When he comes to, he’ll be thirsty. Don’t let him fill up on water—it’ll make him sick.”
    The telephone rang and Nelda answered it.
    “How’s my babe?” The voice of Aldus Falerri boomed in her ear.
    “Fine, thank you.” Her eyes went to Lute, pleading with him not to leave.
    “When are ya comin’ home, puss?”
    Oh, Lord, I hope Lute can’t hear this
.
    “I’m not sure, Mr. . . . ah, Aldus. I’ve got a lot to do here.”
    “Hurry up, puss, or I might come out and carry ya back.”
    “No, don’t do that. I’ll call you.”
    “I’ll be waitin’, puss. Aldus Falerri ain’t used to waitin’.”
    “I know. Good-bye.”
    Nelda hung up the phone before the man at the other end could reply.
    “Boyfriend?”
    “No! I decorated his nightclub. Thanks for taking us to the vet’s. I don’t know how I’d