Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [5]
The old man looked down, shaking his head. “Got mud all over myself when I fell down in the cornfield out at Earl’s. He was irrigating. I couldn’t get dirt all over the seats, so I took off my britches. You know I haven’t even had this Buick a month.” He smiled. “Have I shown you the trunk?” he asked.
“About four times,” Millie answered.
“It’s big,” Oris noted.
Millie made a kind of clucking noise, shaking her head, as she steadied herself over the trash can. She usually walked with a walker. “You went way out to Lemitar this morning? You must have left before dawn.”
“Four o’clock,” he answered. “Before this wind picked up.”
“You get any corn?” she asked, sounding very matter-of-fact.
“A couple of bushels,” Oris answered. “He’s charging more this year. Said he needed a new tractor.” He scratched his chin. “You want yours now or you want me to shuck ’em for you?”
Millie studied her neighbor. “I’d prefer you put on some pants.” She turned back to face the direction she had been heading. “I can come for the corn after dinner.” She wheeled the can ahead, walked through the gate, and placed the garbage can by the back door. She went into the house, leaving Oris outside by himself.
He walked around to the other side of the car and was leaning inside, grabbing his pants and shoes from the floorboard when his daughter, Malene, drove past and skidded to a stop just beyond the front of his driveway. She threw the engine in reverse, made a hard turn to her left, and pulled in behind her father’s new Buick.
She flew out of her car, looking much younger than her fifty-plus years. “Jesus Christ, son of the Living God, Daddy, have you gone and lost your mind for good?” She hurried toward Oris, pulling off her sweater and, once she got beside him, throwing it around her father’s waist.
“Do not drive up here using that kind of language, Missy,” he said, twisting to try to face her as she yanked the sweater sleeves into a knot behind him, his butt still uncovered. “Your mother will not have it.”
“What my mother will not have is your ass hanging out for the entire neighborhood to see.” She glanced around to notice who was watching. She shook her head. Fortunately, it appeared as if everyone who lived near her dad was away from home, everyone it seemed except Fedora Snow, who lived directly across the street and was clearly peeking out her front window. Malene smiled and waved, moving in front of Oris.
“I told you Fedora threatened to call the police on you the next time you did something crazy.” She rolled her eyes and faced her father. “I bet she’s calling Roger right now.”
Oris looked at the house across the street. As he peered in that direction, the curtains fell shut where his neighbor had been watching. “Fedora Snow didn’t pay her phone bill. She can’t call the sheriff because she doesn’t have a phone.” He flipped his third finger up, knowing he was still being watched.
“Jesus, Daddy!” Malene grabbed her father’s hand and pulled it down. “Am I going to have to get you a room in the Alzheimer’s unit?”
Oris yanked his hand away from his daughter and reached down, grabbing his pants. He stuffed the sweater, still tied around his waist, inside them as Malene tried to shield him. “You can’t put me in your fancy nursing home because I have it written in my will that if you try to put me away I’ll take back the land I gave you when you got married.”
“Daddy, that was thirty-five years ago that you gave me that land. I sold that parcel and the house we built on it after Roger became sheriff. You can’t get that land back because it’s a business zone and Frank has his garage there and Midford built the pool hall behind it. It’s gone. It’s been gone. And I’m tired of you threatening me with it.” She sighed, backing away from her fully dressed father. “Here,” she said, letting out a long breath, “let me help you with the corn.” She walked around to the rear of the car while he opened the trunk with his key, and she pulled out a basket. “Looks better this year,