Robert Whitlow: Deeper Water

"Tell me about your classes," he said after his first bite of dumplings.

"This semester I'm taking secured transactions, introduction to labor law, municipal corporations, and civil procedure."

"Which class do you like best?"

"Municipal corporations. It's the study of city government law. The professor is a woman who worked for a firm in Seattle, Washington."

"How did she get to Georgia?" Mama asked in surprise.

"Lawyers move all over the place," I said, planting a tiny seed.

I ate a bite of squash and onions. Compared to Seattle, Savannah was next door. As supper continued, I brought Daddy up-to-date on my strictly regulated life-going to class, eating, studying, sleeping, reading the Bible, and praying.

"And I've been playing basketball. Several girls at the law school invited me to join a team that plays in a graduate school intramural league. We're undefeated in our first five games."

"Have you scored a basket?" Kyle asked mischievously.

"Of course," I replied.

In high school, I'd averaged fifteen points a game during my senior year.

"Ellie and I have been practicing every day since the weather warmed up," Emma said. "Will you play with us later?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

Mama had put extra effort into the meal because it was my first evening home. I complimented every dish individually and the entire meal collectively.

"Have you lost weight?" Daddy asked.

"Maybe a little. I do miss home cooking."

Mama smiled in appreciation.

"We'll have you home in a few weeks so we can take care of you," Daddy said. "When is your last exam?"

"I'm not sure about the exact date," I replied with a glance at Mama, who shook her head.

"The plant is running overtime," Daddy continued. "The company has taken on quite a few new growers, and production is way up. An experienced hand like you can really pile up the cash if you take all the available overtime."

"Is there a place for me?" Bobby asked.

"Next year when you're older would be a better time for you to get on as a temporary worker," Daddy replied.

"Could you ask?" Bobby persisted. "I'll still take care of my share of work in the garden. I want to save enough money to buy another guitar."

"What kind of guitar?" Mama asked sharply.

Bobby smiled. When he did, he looked like Daddy. "Don't worry, Mama. I want a better acoustic, not electric. Some of the best are made by a company called Taylor, so it would already look like it had my name engraved on it."

I wanted to yield my place on the eviscerating crew to Bobby right then. It didn't take long to master the art of cutting open a chicken with razor-sharp scissors and removing its entrails.

"I'll check with Mr. Waldrup," Daddy replied.

Mama surprised me with a lemon meringue pie for dessert. The peaks and valleys of white and light brown meringue were as pretty as a photograph of the Alps. I held the knife in my hand, almost hating to cut the pie.

"What are you waiting for?" Ellie asked impatiently.

I lowered the knife and destroyed perfection. Seven pieces later, the pie pan was empty.

"The twins and I will clean up," I said to Mama when we finished eating. "Sit on the porch with Daddy."

In spring and fall, Daddy liked to sit in the swing on the front porch after supper. It was his way of unwinding after the hectic activity at the chicken plant with its loud noises and fast pace. It was quiet at our house. Except for an occasional logging truck, we rarely heard vehicles passing by on Beaver Ruin Road. That left only the evening sounds of nature-in early spring a few katydids, in summer a more varied chorus. I especially enjoyed it when a great horned owl would issue a call. Daddy liked to hoot in return, drawing the bird into conversation. When I was a little girl, he would interpret the owl's hoots and make up stories about the owl's life. I loved owl stories.

After the twins and I finished cleaning the kitchen, I took my Savannah letter to the front porch. Daddy and Mama were sitting on the swing. The sun was down, but the sky still displayed a broad band of orange. Daddy had his arm draped over the back of the swing behind Mama's shoulders.

"Is now a good time to talk?" I asked Mama.

"Yes," she said.

Emma opened the front door and came outside.

"It's not a good time for you," Mama said to her. "Stay inside with Ellie."

Emma frowned but shut the door. I sat on the edge of the porch with my feet propped on the steps.

"Your mama says you got a job offer with a law firm in Savannah," Daddy said. "Tell me about it."

"Do you want to read the letter?"

"Yes."

I handed it to him.

"They misspelled your name."

"The spelling of my name isn't the important part," I replied with a twinge of guilt. "It's hard to get a summer clerkship like this one. The lady in the job placement office told me less than twenty-five percent of the second-year class is able to find a legal job with a law firm, fewer still with a law firm like this."

"What do you know about Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter?" Daddy asked, reading the names slowly.

I told him about my conversation with Gerry Patrick, leaving out the intrafirm miscommunication concerning the offer.

"There's no harm in getting information about the job, is there?" I asked, trying not to sound whiny.

Daddy handed the letter back to me. "Not if you keep your heart right."

The condition of my heart was somewhat shaky, so I stuck to practical arguments.

"Bobby could take my place on the chicken line. And Savannah isn't as far away as Seattle."

"Did you apply for a job in Seattle?" Mama asked in alarm.

"No ma'am. I was just making a point about the relative closeness of Savannah."

Daddy pushed the swing back and forth a couple of times.

"I guess you could tell the lady in Savannah to send the information to Oscar Callahan's office. Didn't you list him as a reference on your resume?"

"Yes sir, and if the Savannah job doesn't work out, I'll definitely talk to Mr. Callahan about working a few hours a week for him."

"Which is a much better idea than running off to a strange place to be with people you don't know anything about." Mama spoke rapidly. "Where would you live? How will you be able to afford the rent? What kind of cases does this law firm handle? You don't want to be representing criminals. Divorces would be just as bad. And the attorneys who manage a large law firm won't share your moral convictions."

These topics and many others had been discussed in great detail before I started law school, and I didn't want to revisit the debate. I remained silent. The band of orange had lost its hue. The sky was totally gray.

"I only have one question," Daddy said after a minute passed. "Will you honor your parents?"

I knew what he meant.

"Yes sir."

LATER THAT NIGHT I tiptoed into the darkened bedroom. Emmas voice from the top bunk startled me.

"Tammy Lynn."

"Quiet! You're supposed to be asleep."

"Exactly how old were you when we were born?"

I did a quick calculation. `Almost seven months younger than you are now."

"And you didn't mind sharing your room?"

"No, I was excited. But just like now, you were noisy when I wanted you to be quiet."

"I don't mind sharing the room with you when you come home."

"Thank you. I like being with you too."

I sat on the bed and slipped off my shoes and socks.

"When are you going to get married so I can have a baby to play with?"

"Don't be silly," I answered. "I've never even been kissed. Good night."

Emma sighed. Then sighed again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Isn't Savannah the city founded by General James Oglethorpe for people in England who couldn't pay their bills?" she asked.

"Yes. Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Mama and Daddy?"