As she drew closer, the woman folded her arms over her chest. She made no attempt to roll up the window, and when Sadie was within a couple of feet, the woman looked down. She was shaking her head and fidgeting, like the underside of her skin was crawling with ants.
Sadie stopped and took a step back, hoping the woman would realize she was no threat. But the woman never looked back at her. “My name’s Sadie,” she said. “What’s your name?”
Gaze still anchored on her lap, the woman did not speak.
“Can I offer you some ripe tomatoes? I got a few extras I’d be glad to share.”
The woman looked up at her with a sadness that felt as deep as the caves that burrowed into the mountains. She slowly shook her head and then looked away.
Finally, Sadie turned toward the store and, balancing her crate on her knee, opened the door. Bells rang overhead as she stepped inside the store. Mr. Sullivan was behind the counter, boxing up an order for a tall, broad-shouldered man. Thankfully, there was no sign of Ruth.
She settled her crate on the end of the counter and glanced around the countertop for an old magazine. There was a Harper’s Bazaar that dated back two years, but that did not dampen her excitement.
“That will be two dollars, Mr. Black,” Mr. Sullivan said.
The man fished change and a crumpled bill from his pocket and carefully counted it out. She recognized him from the hospital. He had been dragging that girl toward the front entrance.
“Mr. Black, my name is Sadie. Is that your daughter in the truck?” Sadie asked.
Black did not spare her a glance. “What of it?”
“I just said hello to her. She seems nice.” That was not exactly what she meant, but she did not think she would win any points with a stranger by saying his daughter looked lost and sad.
“Stay away from my Sally.” He scooped up his purchases. “The last thing she needs is a friend like you.”
Sadie waffled between retreating and fighting. “You don’t know me.”
“I know your type.”
As Mr. Black turned around, he regarded Sadie. His gaze hesitated, as if he might know her. He shook his head and strode out of the store.
“I’m trying to recall where Mr. Black lives in the valley,” Sadie said to Mr. Sullivan.
“About ten miles from here. He doesn’t come into town that often.”
“I’ve never seen his daughter before.” She glanced at a page in the magazine, as if she were just making conversation.
“I don’t think I’ve seen her since she was a little girl. Pretty little thing but simpleminded.”
Did that explain the odd look in the girl’s eyes? “She doesn’t look much older than me, but I never saw her in school.”
“She never went to school. No point, I suppose.”
Sadie was smart enough to realize that whatever was happening in the hospital was not good. “She looked smart enough to me.”
Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “Did you come in here to gossip about the Black family or sell me tomatoes?”
“I came to sell tomatoes.”
Mr. Sullivan reached under the counter and set a stack of older magazines on the counter. “These are for you.”
“Me? When did you start giving me magazines?”
“They are from Olivia Carter. She was in the other day and left them for you.”
Sadie smoothed her hand over the magazines, catching a hint of Miss Olivia’s perfume. “She left these for me?”
“Said they would go in the trash otherwise.”
“How’s she looking?” Sadie asked.
“Seems well enough. Her husband was with her. He frets over her.”
The old truck outside rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb. She turned and watched through the window as it drove off. “He loves her.”
“I haven’t seen much of you the last couple of weeks. Where have you been?”
She faced him, gathering her magazines. “Had a touch of the flu. Mama said it was best not to drive into town. But I’m right as rain now.”
“You look different,” he said. “Getting fat.”
“With Johnny and Danny gone, Mama’s been lavishing all her cooking on me. She makes the best biscuits.”
“How are your brothers faring?”
“Doing well.”
“Six more boys from the county have left for the army. There won’t be anyone left.” He carefully inspected the tomatoes.
“When do you think it’ll be over?” she asked.
“I hear now that we’re in the fight, it’s a matter of time before the war turns. But that’s what they said last time. Everyone thought we’d be done by Christmas.”