Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DOWRY
Sparks flew from Scarcity’s onyx hooves as we charged the roiling darkness.
The fractured earth rose to meet us. The storm swelled wide and long and high enough to catch God’s attention.
These humans of His—they didn’t deserve the soft existence with which they had been gifted.
They had no idea what the alternatives were.
What their Father had spared them from. They were lucky, loved, gathered to give one another support…
and this is what they do. I knew what festered in the Cheat’s heart.
His cravings drove him. Soon, he would take what he wanted whether Mercy agreed or not.
Conquest. The territory of my older brother.
I’d seen it so many times. Why does it bother me now?
Why here? Why her? What sorcery did she hold over me?
She was a brief spark of vitality soon to wither as all things did.
And still. Her nearness. Her soft stillness silenced the song inside me.
Reminded me that there was more to this place than ruin.
I craved the chance to share the dawn with her.
To match the strands of her hair to the glory of sunrise.
To witness starlight shimmer along her perfect skin.
To whisper the secrets of the cosmos into the tiny shell of her ear.
To crack open my soul and let her small fingers find the quiet thing that hides at the center of me.
“God of Light.” I stretched my arms wide as the maelstrom swallowed us.
Scarcity charged on, taking us to the howling heart of the storm.
“Creator…why have you disturbed my solitude? Why make me a witness to this human’s undoing?
” My words quaked with emotions I’d not felt in millennia.
Agony. Desire. And behind those—a small searing sensation, stealthy in its approach, but growing closer.
The affliction only humans succumbed to.
Surely, I was immune. “Father?” Am I still immune?
I folded in on myself and gave Scarcity the reins. Our fate was in her hands. She would choose the way.
It took some time to clean the yolks out of my shoes and the grit from my body. More time to scrub the dirt from my soul.
I spent a few moments with my maps to ground myself, to remind me that there was a life outside of the dust. Far from Raymond and all this sadness. Away from the awful thing I’d just done.
The beautiful underpants which had made me feel so pretty—almost as pretty as Momma—were jammed down at the bottom of my washing basket where I couldn’t see them. I looked away from the basket and the memory of Stanley’s hungry eyes.
Instead, my gaze swept over South America.
Its rain forest heart pumped green and alive with animals and hidden tribes.
My fingers found the white expanse of Antarctica.
I traced its frozen skin. What wonders lay beneath its windswept ice?
I collected the islands and held them to me: Greenland, New Guinea, Borneo, Madagascar, and all their tiny kin.
Places to get lost in. Places where no one would ever find me.
I closed my eyes, took a parched breath, then folded the worn papers and tucked them under my bed.
I changed into my church dress with the rounded collar.
Granma said we were expecting dinner company.
Whoever it was had to be important because Granma had tidied her braids and opened one of our precious jars of applesauce made with Momma’s apples.
I dusted off my globe, draped a feed sack over it, then wiggled my feet into my Mary Janes and headed downstairs.
Biscuits glistened with butter from beneath the big glass mixing bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. We couldn’t leave food out or it would crunch with grit.
I set the table for three with plates and glasses turned upside down and utensils covered with our best napkins. The smell of Granma’s baked chicken set my stomach to grumbling.
Outside, the wind pushed the house like it had a grudge to settle. Or maybe it had seen what I’d done on the road and it was here to punish me. With that thought, I did my best to lock my mental wanderings down tight. Granma was always listening.
A crash sounded from out back.
“The barn door,” I shouted and unbuckled my shoes.
So much for my tidy hair. I wrapped a dish towel around my curls and went for the kitchen door.
Somebody had to close the barn up or Daddy’s equipment would soon be buried in sand.
Daddy was above this world now with Momma in his arms. He hovered over the hard work of the fields, but he could still look down and see how we honored his memory, how we kept his earthly possessions.
“No.” Granma held her gravy ladle out to stop me. “Look out the winda.”
I went to the back window and opened the curtains. There stood my Daddy’s tractor out of the barn and a man standing next to it.
“Is that Harvey from Garmond’s Garage?”
“Yes, it is. He’s got that tractor just about workin’.”
“But why? We don’t have the soil or the seed to plant Spring wheat.”
“We got to plan for the future, Child.”
And a tractor would make dowry enough for a man of the panhandle.
The twangin’ words caught me midway through closing the curtains. I nearly pulled them from their rod in my surprise.
“Dowry?” I blurted.
A look of shock transformed Granma’s face.
“I don’t need a dowry!” I gaped at her. “Because there isn’t a man left in Charity worth having.
” The venom in my words might have been aimed at Harvey or Granma but it was really meant for Raymond Stanley.
“And Harvey’s not yet eighteen, Granma. He isn’t looking for a wife.
” I wasn’t actually sure if Harvey’s birthday had come and gone, but it didn’t matter.
I’d seen him down at the garage playing marbles with the Sanders boys. He wasn’t ready and neither was I.
I looked to the kitchen door. To escape. I could run with the rabbits down to the river cliff and hide in the burrow until Harvey gave up and went home.
“And dowries are a thing of the past.” I growled.
“Do you mean to get rid of me so quickly?” I stared her right in her ice-blue eyes and said the worst. “Now that Momma’s gone, you have no need for me.
” I watched as the shock that had widened her eyes skipped right over pain and thinned to contempt.
Some part of me had hoped that with Momma gone, Granma would lower her walls.
Soften. Love me the way other grandmothers loved their granddaughters.
She looked to be boiling up a mouthful of words, but a knock came at the door, fast and desperate. Had Harvey come around the front to be proper? If Granma had lured him here with chicken and biscuits, I’d let him stay for dinner, but there wouldn’t be any talk of marriage.
I yanked the door open and fixed a burning look on the wrong man. Sooty the digger stood on the porch with his hat in his hand and his ears filling with sand. Good Lord. Had he seen what I’d done? Was he here to scorch me with some of his gospel quotes?
I looked at my bare feet. I’d forgotten to put my shoes back on. I lifted a hand to my head and touched the dishtowel. Heaven and Earth. I whipped it off my hair.
Sooty stepped in quick before too much dust got in. Past the porch, the sky had an angry look. Harvey Garmond rushed onto the porch next. I waved him in and pushed the door closed.
“Pardon, Miss Mercy.” I rolled my eyes as Harvey’s voice cracked. What was Granma thinking?
“You come in, Harvey. It’s blowing out there.” I pointed at the kitchen table and went to pour him a glass of water. “Sooty, would you like a glass?”
He squeezed his dusty hat and nodded. His large hands looked anxious without his trusty shovel. I reached for another glass when a knock came at the door again.
Was it the wind or the violence of his desire that pushed the door in before I could grab the handle? If I’d known I wouldn’t have cared because the only thought rattling around in my head was someone else’s.
Mine.
The word cut through me on that razor sharp frequency that would surely send dogs scurrying.
Raymond Stanley stood on my porch, arms braced against the door frame and a torrent of wind at his back.
Sand swept across the floor, the living room rug peeled back from the boards.
Raymond was here at my home and he’d brought the storm with him.
“Get in quick!” Granma hollered from the kitchen side of the house.
Grit hissed through the cracks between every wall panel.
The glass panes rattled in the windows. I stood numb to the world as Raymond stepped in and put his shoulder to the back of the door.
With a slide of city slicker shoes and a flex of wiry muscle he got the door closed and latched.
Raymond turned, smoothed his hair back, and gave me a grin. Grit clung to his thin lips.
“Miss Mercy. Ms. Mizzell.” He dipped his head to me, then to Granma shuffling up behind me. “It’s blowing out there,” he rasped. “May I trouble you for a glass of water?”
I blinked. The hammering of my heart blotted out his words. Raymond Stanley was in my house.
“Mercy.” Granma poked me hard in the back. “Get our guest a drink.”
I jumped, then stumbled over my bare feet.
Raymond’s hand shot out. The same one that had held me captive on the road not an hour ago. His fingers gripped my elbow steadying me. I yanked my arm away and backed toward the kitchen.
Sooty took a step toward Stanley.
Granma turned an icy gaze on the digger. Sooty looked at the floor. No help again.
I scurried over to the dinner table and clutched the water pitcher. Water sloshed as I poured three cups for our guests.
“Come on in and have a seat.” Granma guided Stanley into the kitchen and offered him a chair at the table.