Prodigal Summer - Barbara Kingsolver [177]
“I know,” Jewel said with a dry little laugh. “It sounds like the name of a king or something, doesn’t it? Anyways not a little old rat with a blond mustache.”
“No, but…” Lusa struggled to put knowledge and words together. “I know that name. I’m friends with his, well, his grandfather, it must be. With that same name. He’s this funny old man who lives over on Highway Six.” Lusa looked from the signature to Jewel. “He’s even been over here, to this house. He helps me with my goat problems.”
“Oh, well, see, Mr. Walker, that’s Shel’s daddy. He was my in-laws, him and his wife, Ellen. He’s come up here, when? Lately?”
“Yeah. Not ten days ago. He came up to diagnose my worm problem. He didn’t act like he’d ever set foot on this place before. He wouldn’t even step through the barn door till I’d invited him in, like it was a living room.”
“Well, that’s just like him. They were funny people, him and Ellen. Just kindly old-fashioned I guess. And old, period. I think Shel was a change-of-life baby that came after they’d given up, and they never got over the shock.”
Lusa realized this was more or less what she’d been to her own parents. They’d never known what to do with her.
“She died of cancer,” Jewel added.
“Who did, Mr. Walker’s wife? When?”
“Right around when Shel ran off. No, a couple of years before. Lowell wasn’t born yet. She never had a thing to do with Crystal, either, but I guess she was already right sick by that time.” Jewel sighed, too familiar with the lapses caused by illness.
Lusa was amazed. She’d simply pegged the old man for a lifelong bachelor. “He’s your father-in-law. I can’t believe it. How come you never told me?”
“Because I had no earthly notion you even knew him, that’s why. We haven’t any of us spoken to the old man since her funeral, as far as I can think. I’ve got nothing against him. It’s more like he was funny towards us.”
“He’s funny toward everybody,” Lusa said. “That’s my impression.”
“What it is, I think, is they were embarrassed to death by Shel’s drinking. Shel Walker has shortchanged about everybody in this county, one way or another. He used to paint houses and do odd jobs, and after we got married he got to where he’d take their money for a deposit, go drink it up, and then never come back and do the work. I felt like I couldn’t hardly show my face in town. His daddy probably feels worse.”
“I had no idea,” Lusa said.
“Oh, yeah. Shel spent many a year running around wild. And see, I was part of the wild, to begin with, in high school. Then after Shel left me and ran off, that was just finally the last straw. I think old Mr. Walker decided to put that whole chapter on the shelf and pretend me and the kids never happened.”
“But he’s their grandfather, right?”
“That’s sad, isn’t it? They never really got to have any mammaw or pappaw. Daddy and Mommy died before they got the chance. And if Shel’s got no legal tie to them anymore, Mr. Walker’s not hardly obligated to start being a pappaw now, is he?”
“Not obligated, no. But would you care if I called him up? Maybe not right now, but sometime. The kids might like to go over there; he’s got a beautiful farm, he grows trees. And there’s an apple orchard right nearby, I saw. Wouldn’t it be fun to take the kids over there to get cider in October?”
Jewel looked pained, and Lusa could have bitten her tongue off for taking a thing like “October” for granted. “You could call today, I don’t care,” she told Lusa, “but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. He’s a sour old pickle.”
Lusa didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure where Jewel’s heart lay in all this. Jewel was looking out the window now, miles away. “They came to our wedding,” she said. “It was here, in this house. But they left before the reception—that’s how they were. They never approved, they said we were too young. We were too young. But just think.” She looked back at Lusa, intense. “What if I’d been sensible and waited, instead of marrying Shel? There’d be no Crystal