"Holy smokes," Will repeated, lifting his hat and scratching his head, imagining the chore of hauling them out again.
She glanced at his profile, clearly defined against the blue sky, with the hat pushed back beyond his hairline. Did she dare tell him about the rest? Might as well, she decided. He’d find out eventually anyway. "Wait’ll you see the cars."
Will turned her way. After all he’d seen, nothing would be a surprise. "Cars?"
"Wrecks, every one of ’em. Worse’n the Steel Mule."
Hands on hips, he studied the stoves a long moment. At length he sighed, tugged down his hat brim and said, "Well, let’s get it over with."
The cars lay immediately behind the band of woods surrounding the outbuildings-they’d come nearly full circle around the place-and created a clutter of gaping doors and sagging roofs in the long weeds. They approached the windowless wreck of an old 1928 Whippet. Wild honeysuckle climbed over its wire wheels and along the front bumper. On the near runningboard a bird had made its nest against the lee of the back fender.
"Can I drive it?" Donald Wade asked eagerly.
"Sure can. Wanna take Baby Thomas with you?"
"Come on, Thomas." Donald Wade took his brother’s hand, plowed through the grass and helped Thomas board. The two clambered up and sat side by side, bouncing on the tattered seat. Donald Wade pumped the steering wheel left and right, making engine noises with his tongue. When Eleanor and Will approached, he whipped the wheel even more vigorously. Imitating his brother, Thomas stuck out his tongue and blew, sending specks of saliva flying onto a cobweb strung across the faded black paint of the dashboard.
Eleanor stood beside the open door and laughed. The more she laughed, the more the boys bounced and blew. The more they bounced and blew, the more animatedly Donald Wade worked the steering wheel.
She crossed her arms on the window opening, bent forward and propped her chin on a wrist. "Where y’all goin’, fellers?"
"Atlanta!" squealed Donald Wade.
"’Lanta!" parroted Thomas.
"Atlanta?" teased their mother. "What y’all think y’re gonna do clear over there?"
"Don’ know." Donald Wade drove hell-bent for leather, the old wheel spinning in his freckled hands.
"Care to give a pretty lady a ride?"
"Can’t stop-goin’ too fast!"
"Hows ’bout if I just jump on the runnin’ board while you whiz by?"
"Okee-dokee, lady!"
"Ouch!" Eleanor jumped back and grabbed her foot. "You run over my toe, young feller!"
"Eeeeech!" Donald Wade’s stubby foot slammed the brake pedal to the floor as he came to a screeching halt. "Git in, lady."
Eleanor acted affronted. She put her nose in the air and turned away. "Don’t reckon I care to, now you run over my toes that way. Reckon I’ll find myself somebody drives less reckless than you. But you might ask Mr. Parker here if he needs a lift to town. He’s been walkin’ some and he’s probably plum tuckered, ain’t you, Mr. Parker?" She squinted up at him with a crooked smile.
Will had never played such games before. He felt conspicuous and unimaginative, while they all watched him, waiting for a reply. He frantically searched his mind and came up with a sudden stroke of genius. "Next time, boys." He lifted one scuffed boot above the grass. "Just got this here new pair of boots and I gotta get ’em broke in before the dance Saturday night."
"Okee-dokee, mister. Bbvvrr-n-n-n!" More spit accompanied the engine noise, and more laughter from Eleanor Dinsmore. She and Will stood in the dappled light from a wide oak, in grass and honeysuckle to their knees, and Will felt himself becoming a child again, experiencing delights he hadn’t known the first time around. The day was warm and smelled green, and for the moment there seemed no need to rush or plan, to wish or regret. It was enough to watch two blond tykes drivin’ down to Atlanta in a 1928 Whippet.
Eleanor’s laughter faded, but her smile remained as she studied Will. He leaned against the side of the car with his weight on one foot, arms crossed loosely over his chest. The sunlight lit the tip of his nose. On his lips was a genuine smile. "Well, now, would you lookit there," she said softly.
He glanced up and found her studying his mouth. So she’d done it; she’d made him smile. It felt as revitalizing as a full belly, and he neither dimmed nor hid it, but rained it on Eleanor Dinsmore.
"Feels good, don’t it?" she asked quietly.
His brown eyes softened as they appreciated her green ones. "Yes, ma’am," he replied quietly.
Smiling up at him, noting the pleasure in his eyes, Eleanor thrilled at the realization that she and the boys had succeeded in putting it there. Heaven’s sake, what a smile did to Will Parker’s face-eyes hooked down at the corners, lids lowered to half-mast, lips softened, the emotionlessness gone. I could get along with his man quite easy, now I know I can get him to smile.
His smile traveled from her mouth to her rounded stomach, a tarrying trip. She remained unflinching under his steady regard, wondering what he was thinking. "For life" was a long time. Let him look, let him decide. She’d do the same. She had never cared one way or the other about how people looked. But Will Parker, relaxed and smiling, made a fetching sight, no question about it. Only after the thought struck did she grow uneasy beneath his perusal. His gaze lifted and meeting hers, made Eleanor blush inside.
"You know, Mrs. Dinsmore-"
Thomas’s scream interrupted. Will glanced over his shoulder. "What the-"
Donald Wade screamed-pained and panicked.
Will snapped around and shouted, "Jesus Christ, get them out of there!" He lunged toward the car and hauled Donald Wade out by one arm. "Run! Get away from here! Bees!" Half a dozen of them buzzed around Will’s head. One stung him on the neck, another on the wrist, as he reached for a yowling Thomas. By the time he withdrew from the car, the insects swarmed everywhere. Ignoring the stings that fell on him, he swatted the bees off Thomas with his cowboy hat. Eleanor and Donald Wade took off at a run, but just as Will caught up to them Donald Wade tipped over, face first, screaming. Will scooped him up and kept running. His legs were longer than Eleanor’s and he soon outdistanced her. Halting uncertainly, he turned back. Behind him, she struggled along at an awkward gait, supporting her stomach with one hand, fanning the air about her head with the other. The bees had thickened and set up an angry hum.
"Mrs. Dinsmore!" he called.
"Take them and run!" Eleanor hollered. "Don’t wait for me!"
Will saw the terror in her eyes and paused in indecision.
"Go!" she screamed.
One landed on Thomas’s arm. He screamed and began thrashing wildly on Will’s arm. Will turned and barreled up the lane, with the boys bellowing and bouncing. When he’d outrun the swarm, he paused, panting, and spun just in time to see Eleanor stumble and go down on her face. His heart seemed to jump into his mouth. He dropped the boys in the middle of the lane and ordered, "Wait here!" Then he was pounding back to her, ignoring the howls behind him. He ran harder than ever before in his life, toward the woman who rolled over slowly and pushed herself up. On one hip she sat, eyes closed, rocking, clutching her stomach. Oh, Jesus, sonofabitch, Christ-almighty- Will prayed in the only way he knew how-don’t let her be hurt! He skidded to a halt on one knee, reaching for her.
"Mrs. Dinsmore…" he panted.
Her eyes opened. "The boys-are the boys all right?"
"Mostly scared." He took off his hat and flapped angrily at two buzzing bees that hovered about her head. "Git out of here, you sons a bitches!" From up the path the screams continued. Will threw an uncertain glance at the boys, then at Eleanor, fighting panic. He took her by the arms and forced her back. "Lay down here a minute. The bees are gone."
"But the boys-"