Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

"Bobby starts at the chicken plant tomorrow," Daddy said.

"Is he going to be an eviscerator?"

"No, it wouldn't be good to throw him in with all those ladies. He's going to work on the loading dock."

"Coming in or going out?"

Dealing with frozen dead birds in cardboard cartons was much easier than the noise and stench of the live ones in wire-mesh crates.

"Coming in," Daddy replied.

Kyle's truck didn't have air-conditioning, and the late spring air blowing through the window was warm. I brushed a strand of hair from my face and returned it to the ponytail behind my head. I looked at Daddy. He was a relaxed driver, not stressed by the responsibilities of being on the road. Before he met Mama, he worked for a couple of years as a long-distance truck driver.

"What was it like driving across the country?" I asked.

"I liked it. But once I got married, I didn't want to be away from your mama for weeks at a time. Then when you came along, I had to come home every night and plant a new kiss on top of your head."

"What did you do about driving on Sunday?"

"My partner did it. He was a Seventh-Day Adventist. I drove on Saturday; he drove on Sunday. It worked out good for both of us."

"Did you ever go to California?"

"Los Angeles."

"What was it like?"

"Oh, the land out there is dry but green where they irrigate. It made me think about the verses in the Bible where the desert blooms like a rose. It's a fragile place. Unless people pipe in water, not much can live there. There are trees up in the mountains, but no forests on the flats."

"What about the city?"

He shrugged. "Every truck terminal is the same whether it's in Omaha or L.A. I couldn't tell you much about Los Angeles except that once it started it never seemed to stop. I never made it all the way to the Pacific. We'd drop a load, eat a steak at a truck stop, and head back."

I stared out the window. Trees had always been part of the landscape of my world. I wondered if there were trees where Zach Mays' family lived.

"One of the attorneys at the firm in Savannah is from Los Angeles," I said.

"How did he get to Georgia?"

"I'm not sure."

We stopped for gas.

"Do you want me to drive?" I asked.

Daddy stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. "That would be nice. I talk about being a long-distance truck driver, but those days are long gone."

The gears on Kyle's truck grated when I started off. Once I reached highway speed, Daddy leaned against the door frame and went to sleep. His ability to catch a nap at a moment's notice amazed me. He could stretch out on a blanket beneath the poplar tree in front of the house and doze off within seconds. Flip and Ginger would see him and curl up at his feet.

A small convoy of large trucks passed us, and I thought about Daddy driving across the country. I wondered what other dreams he'd sacrificed to be home at night to kiss me on the top of the head. Like Daddy's truck-driving career, my summer job at the law firm in Savannah might be no more than a detour through Los Angeles on the way to a greater good.

Daddy didn't wake up until we were close to the coast. He sat up and blinked his eyes as we passed a mileage marker.

"Did that say twenty miles to Savannah?" he asked.

"Yes sir. You must have been really tired."

"It's been a long week. Your mama got her money's worth out of me yesterday. I spent several hours in the crawl space underneath the house spreading tar paper on the ground and treating for termites. Do you want me to take over?"

"Yes sir, I'll pull off at the next exit. I don't trust myself shifting gears on the short streets of Savannah."

WE ENTERED the historic section of the city, and I gave directions.

"You already know your way around pretty good," he said as we made the third turn in four blocks.

"Yes sir. It's not far to her house."

The spring flowers I'd enjoyed during my first visit were giving way to summer's less-vibrant colors. Daddy had never been to Savannah.

"It doesn't remind me at all of Los Angeles," he said as we passed the James Oglethorpe statue in Chippewa Square.

"It's not Powell Station either," I said, wiping perspiration from my forehead. "There aren't any mountain breezes."

We made a final turn, and I pointed to the house.

"That's it, the one with the two large live oaks in front and ironwork up the steps. You can park at the curb."

"How is living in a fancy place like this going to affect you?" he asked as the truck rolled to a stop.

"Don't worry. I'll be living in the basement like a scullery maid."

Daddy didn't smile. "Don't underestimate the power of the world to pull you into its grip."

I pointed to my heart. "The truth you and Mama put in here is as alive as you are."

I led the way up the steps and pushed the doorbell. Mrs. Fairmont answered wearing an expensive blue dress with pearls around her neck and the same diamond rings on her fingers. I introduced her to Daddy. He shook her hand and bowed slightly.

"Hello, dear," she said to me. "Did you have car problems? I was expecting you yesterday."

My eyes opened wider. "No ma'am. I thought you were out of town at a friend's funeral. Mrs. Bartlett sent me an e-mail the other night telling me you wouldn't be home until this afternoon."

Mrs. Fairmont waved her hand in dismissal. "I told Christine about the change in plans. Didn't she get in touch with you? And it was a cousin who died, not a friend. The funeral was yesterday morning, and I came directly home. Sometimes Christine is worse about remembering than I am." The older woman's eyes brightened. "Today is a good day. I woke up feeling chipper this morning. How do you like my dress?"

"It's beautiful," I managed, still processing the information that Daddy and I could have driven to Savannah on Saturday.

"You have your father's eyes," Mrs. Fairmont said. "Come inside."

"But thankfully she mostly looks like her mother," Daddy said as we entered the foyer.

I turned to Daddy and mouthed an apology. He smiled and shook his head.

"Would you like to see Flip? I told him you were coming."

"Yes ma'am."

"Have a seat in the blue parlor while I get him. He's in the courtyard."

We went into the blue parlor. It was exactly the same except for a new arrangement of flowers. I heard the patter of little feet. Flip dashed into the room and began barking furiously. Daddy and I both lowered our hands in greeting. The little dog sniffed me briefly then spent more time examining the back of Daddy's hand. Daddy scratched the dog's neck.

"Another friend." Mrs. Fairmont beamed as she came into the room. "Your whole family must have a way with animals."

Mrs. Fairmont sat down, and Flip jumped into her lap.

"I never let him do that when Christine is here," she said. "Now, Mr. Taylor, I want to thank you for letting Tami stay with me this summer. Are there any instructions about her conduct you want to share with me? I've raised two children, imperfectly I must admit, but I'm willing to do what I can to help mold her character."

To my surprise, Daddy launched into a laundry list of guidelines, most of which would have been suitable for the twins. He included everything from cleaning my living area and helping with household chores to not staying out late at night and notifying Mrs. Fairmont when I wouldn't be home for supper. She nodded her head in agreement.

"That's very helpful," she replied when he finished. "I'll try, but you know how young people can be."

"Tammy is a fine young woman," Daddy replied. "All her mother and I ask is that you do the best you can. Now, we'd better unload her things from the truck."

Daddy got up from the chair and left the room. Slightly numb, I followed him outside.