Prodigal Summer - Barbara Kingsolver [168]
“So I’ll get those sent off to Shel,” Jewel said after a minute. “Just to get that part squared away. I’ll do that today. I’ve been putting it off.”
“Nobody could blame you,” Lusa said, and then they sat still again while the clock out in the hallway chimed half past the hour. Lusa collected several questions in the silence, but she waited until Jewel opened her eyes again before asking them. It was impossible to be too eager about any of this. She tried to talk slowly.
“Do you even know where Shel is? And will he sign the papers?”
“Oh, yeah, I know where he’s at. He moves around a lot, but the state’s got a garnishee on his wages. See, I had to go to court for that, after he took off. Any employer that writes him a paycheck has to take out three hundred dollars a month and send it to me. That’s how I keep track of him.”
“Gosh,” Lusa said. She had never remotely pictured Jewel in court, standing up to her abandonment. She could imagine the gossip that must have generated. And there were people in this county who would shun Jewel to the end of her life on account of it.
“That’s exactly why he’d sign off his claim to the kids,” Jewel said. “So he could quit paying. I think he’ll sign in a heartbeat. But would you want him to?”
Lusa studied Jewel’s furrowed brow, trying to follow the quick turns this conversation had made. “Would I take the kids without the money, you mean?” She thought about it for less than ten seconds. “It’s the safest thing. Legally, I think it would be best. Because I’d like to be able to put their names on the deed to this farm. So it would go to them, you know, after me.” She felt a strange movement in the air as she said this, a lightness that grew around her. When she gathered the will to look up at Jewel again, she was surprised to see her sister-in-law’s face shining with tears.
“It just seems right to do that,” Lusa explained, feeling self-conscious. “I’m thinking I’d add ‘Widener’ to their names, if that’s all right with you. I’m taking it, too.”
“You don’t have to. We all got over that.” Jewel wiped her face with her hands. She was smiling.
“No, I want to. I decided a while ago. As long as I live on this place, I’m going to be Miz Widener, so why fight it?” Lusa smiled, too. “I’m married to a piece of land named Widener.”
She got up and sat on the arm of the green chair so she could put her arm gently across Jewel’s shoulders. They both sat looking out the window at the yard and the hayfield behind it, across which Lusa had received her husband’s last will and testament. Today her eyes were drawn to the mulberry tree at the edge of the yard, loaded with the ripe purple fruits that Lowell had christened “long cherries” when he discovered and gorged himself on them, staining his teeth blue. At this moment in the summer the mulberry had become the yard’s big attraction for every living thing for miles around, it seemed. It dawned on Lusa that this was the Tree of Life her ancestors had woven into their rugs and tapestries, persistently, through all their woes and losses: a bird tree. You might lose a particular tree you owned or loved, but the birds would always keep coming. She could spot their color on every branch: robins, towhees, cardinals, orchard orioles, even sunny little goldfinches. These last Lusa thought were seed eaters, so she didn’t know quite what they were doing in there; enjoying the company, maybe, the same way people will go to a busy city park just to feel a part of something joyful and lively.
“I’m going to have to talk to my sisters about it,” Jewel said suddenly. “The other sisters,” she amended.
“Oh, sure. I know. Please don’t feel any hurry or pressure or anything. God knows I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. If they don’t think I’m in a position.”
“You’re in a position.”
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never