Chris took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"There's nothing to hear."
"That's not what the padre was sayin', and I wanted to hear it straight from you," the man said. He looked remarkably like he was going to be sick.
"But if you say there ain't nothing to the talk, then there ain't nothing to the talk."
"Talk is cheap," Chris said flatly. "If the preacher wants to know what's going on in my life, or in Miss Bainbridges, then he ought to come and speak to us directly about it. But since you came all this way, I'll put it real blunt for you: there's nothing to talk about. Now, class is in session, so if y'all don't mind, could you just keep on movin?"
The woman looked like she'd never been spoken to like that in her life. Well, if that was the case, Chris thought, then she ought to get used to it.
Twenty-One
Marie usually took note of anything that was going on. She wrote it down in a little notebook that she kept on the corner of her desk, if something happened during the day that needed to be addressed after classes ended.
The two outside, the ones that Chris had gone to speak with, didn't make the list. There wouldn't be any need to write it down, she knew, because she couldn't stop wondering about them long enough to forget to find out what they'd been there for.
Most of the time, she still didn't recognize everyone's face. The folks who she knew well, she knew well. But even in a small town like Applewood Junction, there were still faces she didn't recognize, from social circles she didn't move in. From circles she didn't particularly want to move in.
Marie may not have known the woman outside, or the man beside her, obviously her husband, but it didn't take a mind-reader to know how they were feeling. Even in New Orleans, people got angry. Out west was no different, and the people getting angry tended towards certain patterns. For example, most of the time when folks you didn't know showed up angry, they were angry over something stupid. And stupid or not, they usually had gotten themselves worked up to a fit without any sort of reasonable cause.
But they hadn't come in. In fact, after a few words with Chris, they'd left, and now that the big hole in the roof was patched over, aside from the rapping of the hammer above them, they couldn't hear quite so easily what was being said.
So all she had to go on was body language and the sure knowledge that they didn't come around to welcome her into town with open arms.
When the kids left, she checked the notebook. Nothing for the day. Nothing, because the only thing that she'd noticed, she knew she wasn't going to forget. She stepped outside into the afternoon sun, and as the door closed behind her, Chris pushed himself off of where he'd been standing by the door.
He made a habit, most days, of telling her what sort of progress he'd made that day, what was left to do, and how well things were going. It was a comfort, because the truth was that Marie hadn't the foggiest idea about carpentry, and being in the dark about the entire process wasn't her idea of a good time.
Beggars can't be choosers, of course, so if he was going to do the work for nothing, then she was going to take the status updates that she could get without complaint. That it happened to be daily was a bonus, but it wasn't a bonus that she deserved or even required. It was just something that she appreciated.
"The shingles are up. As far as it goes, the job is pretty much finished, at this point," he told her. "Unless there's something else needs doing."
"Oh, I couldn't ask you—"
"But there is something, then."
"Nothing really," she answered, trying to give him the hint that she wasn't interested in discussing it. Mr. B
roadmoor had already done far too much for her, and she knew it would be some time before she could even imagine having the money to pay him for any of the work he was doing.
"Well, if you say so, then fine. I'm gonna go get ready for work. It's been fun, in a way, doing work like this again. I didn't know how much I'd missed it."
"Well, I'm glad you could find some enjoyment in it." She didn't realize until he'd stepped off the boardwalk and into the grass that she'd lost herself in manners and completely forgotten to ask about the ruckus outside. She stepped off and followed behind. "What was that thing about earlier?"
He didn't stop to answer. "Thing? I'm not sure what you mean."
"That couple. You talked to them for a few minutes, and they walked off all in a huff."
"Oh. That thing. Nothing, really. I dealt with it myself."
"What do you mean, nothing? Were they looking for you?"
"They were looking for you, I guess, but they settled for me. Had some questions, and I answered them."
"What about?"
Marie didn't like being ignored. She could stand being condescended to, if the need arose. She could deal with false praise, or neglect, or disbelief, or even disrespect, but being ignored was simply a bridge too far. And yet, the more Chris didn't stop to talk to her, the more that she dug in her heels.