Falling Into Place
The smell of Mrs. Grome’s beef stew drifts up and begs me to come downstairs, but I sit quiet on my bed. I need to think.
I think back to when Grandpa first talked of finding me a husband. On the second day of our trip, when David and Johnny started back, Grandpa asked if I was “took with” one of them.
What if I had lied and said, “I have feelings for David?” Would things be different now? But David’s only eleven. Would Grandpa have left things be and waited for David to grow up?
Reading through my letter book is like walking the journey again, recollecting its good parts, but seeing things I hadn’t.
I forgot about the Parkers, a West Virginia family we took supper with. They invited us to stay the night. After sleeping on the ground for a week, Grandpa seemed eager to accept—at first.
We sat at their table made of two tables pushed together and surrounded by young’uns. The oldest son was married, and he and his wife lived with his parents.
The second son, named Zeke I think, teased his brother. “When I git married, I ain’t livin’ with Ma and Pa. I’ll wait til I kin afford a place’a my own.”
Grandpa smiled at Zeke. “Might be you’ll marry a girl whose kin has enough land ta give ya a parcel.” I didn’t know he meant me! Or our land. Why didn’t I pay heed to the way he looked Zeke up and down?
I recall now the crestfallen look on Grandpa’s face when the older brother laughed and said, “The Walshes ain’t got more’n a few hardscrabble acres.”
“Walshes?” Grandpa wondered.
“Lena Walsh is Zeke’s intended,” Zeke’s sister said. Didn’t Grandpa look around the table then? He must have seen how young the other boys were. Wasn’t it just a moment later he got up and untucked the napkin from his chin?
“I reckon we need ta put more ground under our feet afore nightfall,” he said.
I also forgot the way Grandpa kept changing his mind about how long to stay in Morgantown. I remember three brothers, and how Grandpa jumped up and got us tickets on the same train they took. Things make sense that didn’t before.
And I recollect Gerald Simms, someone I’ve tried right hard to forget. What was the last thing he said? Only a fool would marry you. Did Grandpa tell him I needed a husband? And did that make him think he had call to take liberties?
I slam my book shut.
