Dead Eyes in Late Summer

THANKSGIVING 1922

“There you are.” Captain Jackson watched Adelyn as she jumped off the train. “Careful now, girl. I know you’re homesick, but you can at least wait till the engine comes to a stop.”

“Who says I’m homesick?” She hugged her father tight, realizing the truth to what he said. A strong tug of nostalgia and childhood memories engulfed her and she fought a desire to weep.

“What you looking for, Addie?” Her father squeezed her hard.

Adelyn stared down the track of the little station at Waycross, trying to fix on what she sought. I’m looking for you, Innis.

“Nothing, Daddy, just taking it all in. Everything seems so small.”

“Yes, that’s the way of it. Makes me sad and happy all at the same time.” He kissed her cheek, and she felt self-conscious, not wanting anyone to see her as a young girl.

“You know, sometimes you make no sense.” She rubbed the stubble on his chin, noticing some white among the red.

“You are moving on and the first thing is seeing home as smaller than the bigger world you’re living in.” Adelyn felt the pulse of the world she inhabited, accepting her father’s insight. She participated in something bigger now. Home and even this big stretch of paved road from Waycross to Tulip Junction seemed smaller by comparison.

“Everyone at home feeling good, Daddy?” She looked over and thankfully observed a father still very much in his prime, his big hands lightly gripping the steering wheel, not the bony and gnarled hands of an older man.

“Mister Norris down back of the lower fields was off of work for a spell, but everyone else, I hear tell, is doing fine.” How like her father to think that home included everyone within his farm’s reach and then some. “I know it’s only been a short time still, but you leaning in any special way with your studies?”

“I like history. My roommate teases me about the time I spend studying instead of attending silly tea parties in the front parlor.”

“History, huh? Any special time or place?”

“American history especially, and the law. I like it best studying history when they tell of how laws were made and laws were changed. My professor gave me some other books to read. Different ways of seeing things I didn’t even know existed. I guess I know why Innis loved….” Her words froze on her lips. Innis loved the law and succeeded so well at his first try in court. No need to share with her father what he already knew; Innis’s first case involved land rights for Captain Jackson.

Adelyn noticed the speedometer and saw the needle pushing sixty miles per hour. “Daddy, you had Billy fix this car to go faster, didn’t you?”

“Now honey, you know I keep my Stutz Bearcat very up-to-date.” He lifted his foot from the accelerator as the courthouse steeple came into view on his right. They turned into the town of Tulip Junction, rounding the courthouse plaza and exiting onto the road that would take them home.

“You tell me if I’m poking where I ought not, but little girl, I’ve been worried about you, and I believe you know why.”

“I sleep less, Daddy. It’s so much and all at once. Going away, then Innis.” She didn’t tell him that a weight hung from her, a weight of guilt for any time she began to laugh at friends’ jokes, or if a boy smiled at her in the dining hall, or if she received a high mark on her history tests. The awful guilt weighed her down for being alive and almost nineteen and Innis gone.

In the silence, Adelyn felt her father embrace her wounded soul. She reached over to squeeze his hand as if to say, ‘I’m okay.’ She pulled a mirror and a little comb from inside her bag to smooth down the little curls popping up around her face. Her soul lifted up as she surveyed the physical world around her. The naked maples stretched out their old arms as if wishing for leaves. Ahead lay the farm, the land, and the house.

“It all takes time, sweet girl.” She barely heard his whispered words. He stopped the car and she jumped out. Then the ruckus of family surrounded her, and she noticed how everyone had changed—Aunt Grace looked heavier, Uncle Tyree thinner, her mother a bit older, and Cicely, tall, very tall and slim, and, yes, quite sophisticated. When did all this happen?

“Adelyn, someone to see you.” Uncle Tyree bent down his tall frame to tell her as he glided by her on the way to the dining room. His eyes shifted toward the back hall. The family congregated for leftovers from the Thanksgiving meal, the bowls as full as on the holiday. Adelyn pushed back her chair, momentarily pre-occupied by all the food. Did we not eat at all?

“What’s that?” Hard of hearing and always worried she would miss something, Aunt Grace Lee sat upright at the table, trying to hear her husband’s conversation with Adelyn.

Adelyn hurried out as she thanked her uncle for his discretion. The family all gathered in the dining room, distracted with savoring Thanksgiving leftovers, and Aunt Grace thankfully succumbed to the festivity.

She saw him, tall with broad shoulders, as a shadow against the opaque glass pane. Her heart jumped though he would never know it as she swung open the door. “Thought you’d be down there in Savannah whooping and hollering after the big win.”

“No need, they won it without me. I came home yesterday morning.”

“Well come on in, no point in heating the outdoors.” She secretly congratulated herself for washing her hair earlier that day and brushing the curls to frame her face. She noticed Garnett noticing, his hand suspended, reaching out to feel the softness of it as she turned to walk back in. She felt his hand and it warmed her.

Garnett took one of the curls near her cheek. “Quite the flapper, are we?”

He took two steps inside, brushing against her as she held the door open. For the briefest moment they felt the warm air breathed from each other, could almost hear the throb of the blood coursing in one another’s veins. He pressed slightly against her and she didn’t move back.

“So, it’s just your mama’s kin?”

She knew he made polite conversation. Adelyn took his coat and hung it on one of the hooks inside the back hall.

“You know Aunt Grace is Mama’s sister. She and Uncle Tyree have been with us since he came back from the Great War. He was doing more administrative stuff, certainly no soldiering. But claims he was mustard gassed, though I could never tell.” Her chattering on just barely covered her own unease. Why does he always make me so?

The lights glowed against the gray day, and the family talked busily and passed dishes to one another. Another chair had appeared next to Adelyn’s when she came into the room to tell them. Uncle Tyree had played Cupid. “Garnett is here, and I asked him to dinner with us.”

“Of course, dear boy.” Mrs. Jackson, nearest Garnett, stood and briefly hugged his shoulder. All others including Captain Jackson said hello, the men in full voice and hearty. Garnett sat, and he helped himself from all dishes passed to him, waiting until the initial polite questions had been asked before biting into his food.

“Well son, heard the Bulldogs done it again!” Uncle Tyree shouted from his end of the table.

“He does that because he thinks everyone’s as deaf as his wife.” Adelyn whispered to Garnett whose smile broadened.

And he whispered back. “Adelyn, I know your family stories almost as well as my own.” He looked to Uncle Tyree to answer him. “Yes, sir, I heard that too. I’ve been home since before the game.” His voice dropped, “My mother is not well.”

“Garnett, I am so sorry.” Soft murmurs throughout the room duplicated Adelyn’s wishes of genuine concern for Sarah Crawford. Even Cicely expressed concern, recalling Sarah Crawford’s absence from the funeral. The Jacksons each held some memory of the time after Innis’s passing when Sarah walked about town shopping and took part in the Altar Society looking like a specter, wan and weak. She faded from those events until no one saw her any longer in church or town, and as people will do, most ceased to look for her. A collective guilt permeated them all, most of all Mary Jackson for not visiting Sarah more.

“Doctor Spencer, the new young doctor in town, he trained up north in New York City, and my daddy took her to see him.” Adelyn could tell that talking to them gave Garnett a release from his silent fears for his mother’s welfare. Garnett had held out hope that his mother would get past the grief and live fully, but she began to fade as they entered the holidays.

Mrs. Jackson, who sat on the other side of Garnett, spoke softly, and Adelyn alone heard her saying, “I spoke with your mother last I saw her; she told me of her childhood illness that weakened her heart.”

That was what it was. But she’s been resting a lot, and they expect her back to normal, soon. Soon.” He repeated himself without even knowing it, a wish more than a belief.

Adelyn studied them, her family, the way Garnett acted with her father and uncle; far more deferential than his older brother though her male kin had been fond of Innis. Innis’s cunning, beating out the world under the law of those northerners, the natural enemy of the men of the south, earned their admiration. Instead, Garnett belonged to the greater world; he belonged, and no one held it against him. They all settled in and traded stories of one another’s kin, shared old experiences, and new ones. Adelyn touched his hand that lay in his lap, wanting him to know through her touch that he belonged with them, with her.