Part 33 (1/2)
Forney brought her things for the house, too. A set of gla.s.s k.n.o.bs he'd found at a garage sale, and delicate gold frames for the Polaroids Novalee had taken that first day in the Wal-Mart, the day w.i.l.l.y Jack had left her behind.
265.
All three photographs bore traces of damage from the tornado, but Novalee didn't see the spots and scratches and dents. She saw only Sister Husband's miracle smile, Moses Whitecotton's gentle dark eyes and Benny Goodluck's thin brown body, stiff and awkward in his camera pose.
Novalee had hung the pictures on the living room wall before the paint was dry, before the windows were covered, before the furniture was even moved in.
Though she'd been in the house for over six months, it still had unfinished spots-kitchen drawers without handles, a strip of molding missing, some trim work yet unpainted. But it was home, a home without wheels, a home fixed to the ground.
She had designed the house herself. Four rooms and a bath, and a deck that circled the buckeye tree. Some thought she'd never be able to build it for twenty-six thousand dollars, the money Sister had left her. She did, though. But she had a lot of help.
Moses did the foundation work, Mr. Ortiz the framing. Benny Goodluck and his father laid brick; Forney and Mr. Sprock did the roofing. Mrs. Ortiz hung the paper and Certain made the curtains.
Novalee did a little bit of everything. She drilled, nailed, caulked, measured and sawed, lifted, climbed, carried and carted. She sweated, cussed, laughed, ached and cried, putting in weeks of eighteen-hour days and six-hour dead-to-the-world nights.
Then one steamy August afternoon it was finished. The house Novalee had only dreamed of was hers.
a home with old quilts and blue china and family pictures in gold frames gold frames 266.
Forney was at the window when she pulled into the drive at half past nine. He had already sc.r.a.ped the steps and scattered rock salt on the porch.
”I've been so worried about you,” he said as he whisked her inside and took off her coat.
”I would have called, but I couldn't find a good place to get off the highway.”
”Did you have any trouble?”
”Well, traffic was moving, but just barely. I saw some cars banged up south of the Bokoshe turnoff. Overpa.s.ses were like gla.s.s.”
”Mr. Sprock said they'd closed down 31.”
”Was he here?”
”No, but he called twice. Worried about you getting home in one piece.”
”I'll call him in a minute.”
”You look bushed.”
”Yeah. I am.”
”How about a cup of coffee.”
”That sounds great.”
Novalee backed up to the fire, finally letting herself feel the strain of maneuvering the Chevy over miles of ice and snow.
The fireplace was something she hadn't counted on when she built the house, something she knew she couldn't afford. But Moses insisted she could, because he could build it. And he had. A real rock fireplace. He and Forney and Mr. Ortiz had hauled chunks of granite from the bed of Sticker Creek for two days.
Forney came back into the room and handed Novalee a steaming cup.
”Thanks. When did Americus go down?”
267.
”About an hour ago, but it was a struggle.”
”Too excited about the snow?”
”Too worried about the animals. She was scared they'd freeze.
Wanted me to fix them some soup. 'Give them a hot meal,' she said.”
”And you did it, didn't you?”
”Make soup? For a bunch of cats and dogs?” Forney threw his hands in the air to let Novalee see how ridiculous her question was.
”What did you make them?”
Forney ducked his head, dropped his voice. ”A pan of gravy.”
”Forney, you're a pushover.”
”It's freezing out there, Novalee.”
”No doubt about that.”
”And if Americus is determined to take in the strays of the world, I figure she's going to need some help from time to time.”
”Don't suppose you kept any of that gravy for me?”
”Americus wouldn't let me. She said there wasn't enough. But I made you some creamed chicken.”
”Good. I'm starved.” She picked up a brochure from the coffee table. ”What's this?”
”Benny Goodluck left it for you. It's that information you wanted on winter honeysuckle.”
”Did he say his dad ordered it?”
”No.”
”Did he mention the Indian hawthorn I asked about? Or how much it would cost for-”
”Novalee, that would be an awful lot of talking for Benny. He's not real crazy about words.”
”Oh, he talks, Forney.”