While she was walking toward us she never once looked in our direction, but picked her way carefully with her head lowered so that all we saw was the crown of her hat. "Is that Mindy?" I asked Jake.
"Naw, it's the warden."
"Well, I don't know what Mindy looks like."
"It's Mindy, all right," he said. "She never did dress like she had any common sense."
For she was close enough now so that we could see what she was wearing: a print sundress not meant for anyone so pregnant, with straps as thin as the joint lines on a Barbie Doll's shoulders. Her hat was ringed with little embroidered hearts. The bundle in her arms turned out to be a cat. "Gripes, a cat!" Jake said.
Mindy raised her head then and looked at us. She had a childish round face with a pointed chin, and white-blond hair that streamed to her waist. Some ten feet from the car she stopped and set her suitcase down, not smiling. "Well,"
Jake sighed, and he opened the door and got out. "Hey there, Mindy," he called.
"Who's that you got with you."
"Hmm?"
"Who's that lady, Jake?"
"Oh, why, she's just going to ride with us a spell," Jake said. "Get on in, now."
"How'm I going to get in with the doors chained shut?"
"Use my side. Move it, Mindy, they'll be after you."
"Oh, everybody's still sleeping," Mindy said. She came around the car, lugging the suitcase stiff-armed and just barely hanging on to her cat. Jake drew away from her, but without actually stepping back.
"Now I am not going to drive no cat about," he told her.
"But he's mine."
"Look here, Mindy."
"He belongs to me." Jake rubbed his nose. "Okay, okay," he said. "Make sure he stays in your lap, though." He opened the back door, shoved her suitcase in, and stood aside to let her follow it.
Mindy stayed where she was. "Aren't I going to sit in the front?" she asked him.
"How come?"
"We been separated all these months and now you want to ask how come?" She stood on tiptoe suddenly and twined her free arm around his neck. She really was a tiny girl. The biggest thing about her was that stomach, which Jake carefully wasn't looking at. "We got a lot of plans to make," she said, and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then she slid into the car, bounced a little, and turned to me. 'Tin Mindy Callender," she told me.
"I'm Charlotte Emory."
"Pee-ew! Where'd this old car come from? Smells like a dustbin." Maybe it did, but all I could smell was her perfume: sugared strawberries. As soon as Jake had settled in the driver's seat, he rolled down the window a crack. "Won't you be cold?" I asked Mindy.
"Oh, no. I've got the hot flashes."
"The what?"
"Been hot as Hades the whole seven months. Can't stand a blanket, won't wear sweaters. It only happens with some rare few women." She cast a sudden look at Jake, who didn't say anything.
He started the car and set off down the road. "What's that funny noise?" Mindy asked him.
"What noise?"
"Jake, I just don't know about this car. Where'd you say you got it?"
"Off a friend," Jake said.
"Some friend." She settled back, hugging the cat. This cat was a marbled brown color, with glaring yellow eyes and chipped ears. It was plain, he didn't like to be held. First he tried to struggle free and then he gave up, but not really: his eyes were squared, the tip of his tail twitched, and every time Mindy patted him he would shrug her off. "I believe that Plymouth would rather he hadn't come," said Mindy.
Jake said, "Who?"
"Plymouth. My cat."
"Well, I go along with Plymouth," said Jake. "What you want a cat for? You never used to like them."
"At the Home there's a pet for everyone," Mindy told him. "They say it's therapeutic.'
"Therapeutic."
"Some of the girls have dogs. Some have birds."
"Well, I don't hold with having birds," said Jake.
"We make things, too; that's therapeutic. And we have a lot of activities, speeches and lessons and things. Last night we had Child Care; that's why I couldn't meet you. We were going to give a bath to a rubber doll and I didn't want to miss it." Jake slammed on the brakes, though the highway was deserted.
He turned and stared at Mindy. "Watch the road, Jake," Mindy said.
"Now, let me get this straight," said Jake. "You couldn't meet us last evening because you had to give a doll a bath."
"Well, there was a lot of other stuff too," Mindy said.
"Mindy Callender, do you know where we spent last night? Sleeping out. Shut in a car in the middle of the woods, and with no hot flashes to warm us, neither."
"Well, who is us'?" Mindy asked.
"Me and Charlotte, who'd you think?" She gave me a closer look. Deep down, her eyes were speckled. "I didn't quite catch it," she said. "
"Where is it you come from?"
"Clarion," said Jake.
"She been riding all this way with you?"
"She's, ah, going as far as Florida," Jake told her. "Then shell be saying goodbye."
"Florida! Oh, Jake, is that where we're headed?" And she rose up to hug him, covering my lap with a billow of skirts, pulling Jake sideways. The car swerved. The cat made a leap and landed in the back seat, shaking various parts of himself and looking insulted.
"Watch it, will you," Jake said. "Well, I figure we might as well be warm the next two months, no harm in that. Besides, Oliver's in Florida."
"Oh, Oliver, Oliver, always Oliver," said Mindy, picking brown hairs off her dress.
Now that the cat was gone I could see that she also had a purse: shiny white vinyl, heart-shaped, like something a child would carry to Sunday School. She caught me looking at it and spun it by its strap. "Like it?" she asked me. "It's new."
"It's very nice," I said.
"I thought it would match my other stuff." She raised a thin, knobby wrist, with a bracelet dangling heart-shaped charms in all different colors and sizes.
The pink stone in her ring was heart-shaped too, and so was the print of her dress. "Hearts are my sign" Mindy said. "What's yours?"
"Well, I don't really have a sign," I told her.
"You married, Charlotte?"
"Of course she's married, leave off of her," Jake said.
"I was fust asking."
"She don't want all your busybody questions."
"Look here, Jake, we were just having this ordinary conversation about my purse and all, and the only thing I asked her was-"
"You got any money in that purse?"
Jake said.
"Huh? I don't know. A little, I guess."
"How much?"
"Well, talk about busybody!"
"See, I left home without my wallet," Jake said.
"How could you do a thing like that?"
"Never mind how, it just happened that way. How much you got?" Mindy opened her purse and riffled through it. "Ten, fifteen… sixteen dollars and some cents, it looks like."
"That ain't very much," said Jake.
"Well, la-de-da to you, mister." We passed a truckful of crated chickens.
There was a silence. Then Jake said, "They let you carry money around that place?"
"Sure."
"But what would you use it for?"
"Oh, like if we want to walk into town or something. Buy us a soda or shampoo or movie magazine."
"You just walk on into town," said Jake. "Any old time you want"
"What's wrong with that?"
I took tight hold of the door handle and waited. But Jake didn't say a thing, not a word. He merely drove on, with his face as still as a stone.