Serena Farley pinned another diaper to the clothesline under a blue cloudless sky and turned toward the road when she heard the sound of a car on the loose gravel. Not many vehicles made it that far down the dead-end road, and it was always an occasion for curiosity.
The past year it had been more than simple curiosity for Serena. It could be Darrell coming back for her and the baby
"He ain't coming back, girl," her father had told her repeatedly. "When you gonna face the truth, Serena? He's forgotten you. Good news don't come down no dead-end road."
It was something Coy Farley's father had often said, but Coy had learned the truth of it early on. He grew up in the valley surrounded by pine trees and post oaks in the same house where he raised Serena. The road, now too rough for most cars, had gone clear across the valley once. Coy remembered when it was kept in good repair and was well enough traveled that his mother sold fresh eggs to the passing traffic. When Coy was eight or nine, though, the old wood bridge on Slaughter Creek washed away in a flash flood, and suddenly the valley's best days were in the past. The County Commissioner, who no longer had kin living across the creek, did not replace the bridge and rarely ordered maintenance on the road. Over the years it became deeply rutted and was entirely impassable when it rained.
On the rare occasions when a vehicle did come down that dead-end road, it was usually a tourist who had strayed off the highway or a neighbor bringing bad news. Good news, when there was any, came by mail and it had to be collected from the box a quarter-mile away up on the main road. No one ever came for a social visit to the Farley place -- not since Serena's mother died nearly seven years ago. Sarah's grave was up on a bluff overlooking the Creek. Coy went there often while he was out hunting with his redbone hound, Jake. Jake was the only one he ever talked to about Sarah - the only one he ever wanted to talk to. Coy Farley was never a friendly man, but his wife's death left him bitter, as well. He greeted everyone who drove down their road -- be they loggers, hunters, revenuers, or lost city folk -- with the same suspicious stare. And when they left, more often than not, the truth of those oft-repeated words was confirmed. "Good news don't come down no dead-end road."
Serena hadn't seen it that way, though. She'd been sixteen, lonely, and ready for life to change when Darrell Wilkerson pulled into the long bumpy drive from the road to ask directions. It had been another sunny October afternoon a little over a year ago. Serena had been in the garden at the side of the house pulling green tomatoes from flagging vines while her father was off hunting in the woods. If Coy had been there, he would have chased the boy off. As it was, Darrell stayed around and drank lemonade with Serena. He had been as captivated with Serena's fresh features and open innocence as she was with his robust good looks and stories of life in McAlester. He was just out of high school and looking for work. By the time Coy came home, Darrel was gone, but not before making a date with Serena for the following day.
Coy disapproved of the relationship from the start. "Nothin' but grief can come of hooking up with that no-count boy," he told Serena.
She was a headstrong girl, though, and the young couple found ways to meet secretly and soon became lovers. Within a month they were talking about marriage and making plans for a life together.
"Far away from this valley," Serena told Darrell. "There's nothing here but rocky soil and living in the past since Mama died. Besides, Papa will be mad as damnation when I leave. He won't have no one to keep his house."
One day when the young lovers were together in their secret meeting place in Conner's abandoned barn, Coy came upon them with a squirrel rifle. He had suspected as much, so he and his hound dog had followed Serena. That was the last time she had seen Darrell. "Stay away from my girl, you hear?" Coy's eyes were wild with rage.
"I'll come back for you, Serena," Darrell said as he backed away from the gun. The hound bared his teeth and barked as the boy added, "Soon as I find work, I'll come back."
Her father cocked the gun and took aim. "Get outa here -- now. If'n I shoot, I ain't gonna be missin." He sicked Jake on the boy, who turned to run with the dog nipping at his heels.
With Darrel gone, Coy's fury was directed at Serena. For days he seethed in stony silence, speaking only a word or two to his daughter through gritted teeth. After a week of unbearable silence, when Serena finally begged him to talk with her, his anger boiled over with an explosion of merciless insults.
"Your mama would be too ashamed to look at you, girl," he said in the cruelest outburst. Serena cried for days. Nothing Coy said or did changed the way she felt about Darrell, though. It only deepened her anger at her father for spoiling her one chance for happiness. "He was the only good thing that ever happened to me, Papa. I love him."
Nothing could change, either, the fact that a life had begun to grow in Serena's belly. When it became obvious to even Coy that his daughter was going to have a baby, his anger shifted back to Darrell Wilkerson. He'd seen boys like that all his life - taking whatever they can get from a young girl. It was hard to tell what made him the angriest- that Darrell had sullied his daughter, or that Coy would be the one responsible for supporting the child born of the boy's reckless seed. He often made it sound like Darrell had run off rather than face his responsibilities.
Serena's faith in Darrell did not waver throughout the months of her pregnancy. She knew in her heart that he would return for her, even though he didn't know about the child. Darrell loved her and had sworn they would be together. His last words echoed in her memory: "Soon as I find work, I'll come back."
It became harder to believe in the days following the birth of their beautiful baby girl the following September. Darrell should have already come for them. Serena didn't want to raise their child in her father's house. Coy's attitude had softened only slightly with the arrival of his granddaughter, whom Serena named after her mother. The worst of his anger went underground, adding another layer of resentment to his perpetually sour mood. Serena was glad when her father began to spend more time hunting down along Slaughter Creek. At least for a few hours she could relax and pretend she was keeping house for Darrell.
When he and Jake returned, though, it was always the same. She was used to her father's foul temper, but she couldn't bear his complaints about having another mouth to feed. Serena did everything she could to placate him. She cleaned the house meticulously, baked his favorite apple pies and put up preserves the way her mother had, but nothing she did to earn her keep and the baby's had any effect on Coy's disposition. Serena knew the truth of it even as she tried to pretend her father would someday change. Coy might grudgingly accept the baby, but he would never be happy - and she and the baby could never be happy under his roof.
Serena wanted more for Sarah than the bitterness of life on that dead-end road. She wanted more for herself, as well. She wanted Darrel. Serena couldn't give up the dream that he would be coming for them - it was the thread that kept her going through the harsh days of servitude to a master who was never appeased. She lay in bed at night and tried to conjure up an image of what her life with Darrell would be like - living with a man who loved her and the baby - a man who did not resent their existence. But it had been a year since he had made the promises, and his face was fading from her memory.
Still, Serena's heart quickened whenever she heard the gravel crunch under the tires of a car on the road. Maybe this time it will be Darrel coming back like he promised.
Serena stood at the clothesline with a diaper in one hand and a clothespin in the other with her attention trained to the road. She squinted to see the figure in the strange vehicle as it slowed to a crawl and turned into the long driveway. The car pulled to a stop closer to the road than the house, but the door did not immediately open. When the door finally opened, Serena dropped the clothespin in her hand when a man in uniform got out. It was Darrel Wilkerson, looking older and taller than she remembered.
Serena ran to him as he walked up the hill toward her. He stretched out his arms as she neared, and they held each other and kissed with all the passion of the day they parted.
"I was afraid you didn't want to see me again," he said holding her close to his chest. "When you didn't answer my letters, I didn't know what to think."
"Letters?" Serena pulled back and looked into Darrell's eyes. "I didn't get no letters - not a one."
"I wrote almost every day for a while," he said.
"My father - he must have —" Serena said through tears. "He told me you didn't love me - that you had forgotten all about me. He knew all along it wasn't true. "
"I guess he really hates me," Darrell shook his head and then wiped a tear from Serena's cheek. "I'm sorry I'm so late coming for you. When I couldn't find a job I finally joined the army. I wrote you about it. I just got out of boot camp in Fort Jackson, South Carolina; and I'm on leave for two weeks." He looked toward the house. "I knew your father would probably kill me if I didn't have some kind of job. I thought he might, anyway. I felt better when I didn't see his truck. Is he around?"
"He's off hunting with Jake down at the creek," Serena said, smiling through tears that would not stop. "I don't expect he'll be back for a while." She kissed him again and said, "I just knew you'd come."
"I'll be stationed in South Carolina for the time being. I won't earn much - probably not enough to satisfy your father, but we can make it. I just couldn't wait any longer to be with you again."
Darrell looked nervously over his shoulder when he heard a sound.
Serena pointed back to the large basket under the clothesline where their daughter slept peacefully. "Don't worry, Daddy is not going to shoot his granddaughter's father."
Darrel appeared confused, then astonished. His face brightened into a big grin, and he ran up to the clothes line and knelt down beside the basket. When he reached to touch the infant's hand, she wrapped her fingers tightly around his thumb and gurgled. Darrell looked up at Serena and said, "She's beautiful!"
He stood and held Serena close to him again. "You know, Serena. When I didn't hear from you for all those months, I really wasn't sure if you wanted to see me again. I knew there was the possibility that your father may have kept the letters from you, but I remembered looking down the barrel of that gun -- how frightened I was. What I mean is, I ran like a coward. I shook for two days, and I was ashamed of myself. I would have understood if you felt the same way."
"Papa would've killed you, Darrell. I'm glad you ran."
"Well, I'm not running anymore. I've done a lot of growing up in the last few months, and I'm here to take you with me this time, whether your father likes it or not." He laughed, "Who knew I'd be taking two girls back to Fort Jackson."
There were no threats and little conversation when her father and the dog returned from the hunt. Coy Farley knew it was over. With a hard look that revealed nothing of what he was feeling, he helped Serena carry to the porch some of the things she had hurriedly packed.
"How could you keep his letters from me, Papa?" Serena said while Darrell was at the car arranged things in the trunk. "You knew he loved me - how could you?"
"Love don't keep trouble away," he said as if that settled the matter.
Only once did he meet Darrell's eyes. "Where do you mean to take them?" he asked.
"Back east to Fort Jackson, Sir," Darrell answered. "That's in South Carolina. I'll be good to them, I can promise you that. And we'll always let you know where we're at."
Coy handed Darrell a box of baby clothes and said, "I'll appreciate that."
Before the sun set through the pine trees to the west, Darrell was backing out of the driveway taking Serena and the baby out of the valley while Coy watched from the porch. They didn't hear him say to the redbone hound, "I knew that boy was bad news from the get go. Ain't no good news ever come down that dead-end road. I got nobody now, Jake. All of 'em is gone."
THE END