A Thousand Acres_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [73]
“How are you, Dollie?”
“My granddaughter’s going to Soviet Russia on a church exchange trip, did you hear about that? Six church members and six 4-H-ers. She’s the youngest. She’s going to take along some project she did on hog scours. Bob Stanley rigged it up through Marv Carson, somehow. Marv knows Senator Jepsen now, through some bank thing.”
“Hmm.” I must have sounded preoccupied. She looked at me sharply as I turned from the counter, and said, “Those Clark boys should know that Harold’s all talk. They shouldn’t be counting any chickens. My guess is he don’t have a will at all, and certainly no provisions for paying off any taxes.”
I thought she must be telling me this as a sideways compliment to my father, to our whole family, for being prepared. Or else as a veiled insult. It was hard for me to tell what the neighbors thought of us. I said, “If I’m talking to Loren or Jess and it comes up, I’ll tell them, Dollie.”
“Somebody ought to. But you know, Loren is like Harold’s shadow, and I don’t really feel comfortable with that older one. I’ve known him since he was a little boy, but when he comes in here, I always mistake him for a tourist. He’s just not familiar any more.”
Pammy opened the door and said, “Come on, Aunt Ginny, we’re boiling.”
Then the Clarks’ deep freeze gave out, and Jess brought over packages of steaks and chops for us to keep until they could get the repair man out from Sears. Ty was sitting at the table, eating his breakfast. Jess asked how Daddy was, if we’d seen the truck, then said, “You’d better go downstairs with me, Ginny, and show me where to put these so they don’t get mixed in with your things.”
When we were leaning into the freezer, he kissed me on the ear, and whispered, “Meet me at the dump tomorrow afternoon. Harold is taking your dad to Zebulon Center for some extension program, and Ty is going along to the auto parts store.”
I stepped away from him. “He told me.”
“I want to talk to you.”
I turned from the freezer and walked up the cellar steps. My luck held. The kitchen was empty; Ty was out starting the truck. He waved to me as he turned toward the road. When Jess came up from the cellar, I said, “Want me to help you bring the rest of the stuff over?”
I could hear Harold yelling as soon as I opened the door to get out of Jess’s truck. He shouted, “Who told you to leave the sprayer in that field?” and then something unintelligible. Loren came around the corner of the house, and I realized I was standing and staring. I smiled, and he smiled sheepishly back at me. I followed Jess into the house. Through the kitchen window on the barn side of the house, I could see Harold heading toward the barn, kicking at some dirt or gravel in his path, but then, when Loren appeared again, carrying a socket wrench, Harold spun toward him with his hands out, as if he were going to strike him or strangle him. Loren set down his tool and kind of deflected Harold’s progress toward him. Jess said, “Fuck this!” and went out of the kitchen. Soon he appeared with the other two, and shouted, “Harold! Dad! Hey!” He grabbed Harold by the arm. I found a brown paper sack and started filling it with the white packages of meat that were wedged into the refrigerator. The freezer stood open, pulled away from the wall, stinking of that sour frozen smell, and, faintly, of meat and blood.
The door opened, and Jess manhandled Harold into the kitchen. Harold’s face was purple. Jess said, “Now sit down!” and half pushed him into a chair. Then he said, “I told him to leave the sprayer in that field! It was my mistake. Now leave him the