Distant Flame

July 22,1914

July 22,1914 C HARLIE HAD BARELY TOUCHED his meal, and Mrs. Knight cleared his plate away with a snort. A brief storm cleared rapidly after it struck, and a rainbow, so sharp he thought he could almost hear it chime, stretched north from Branton toward Athens. He walked upstairs to his bedroom, slow on the stairs, trying to focus on his life and the singular Battle of Atlanta, not the falling back from Dalton but the engagement half a century before, when the air had been saturated with death. Afterward, he wondered if corn could grow in blood. He was considering a nap when he heard a car arrive, slide to a parked stop in the long driveway that went from front to the back of Grace House. He knew who it would be, and when he walked across the hall and looked out the window, he saw her climbing out, lithe and strong, unbowed by age or disease. Her hair was gray and carved around her head like a hat, and she wore a pale blue dress, light against the heat and dripping sunlight. Steam rose in unfocused undulations from the top of her car. She walked toward the house without glancing upward; Charlie had noticed most people rarely looked up except when rain began. Now that the rain was over, there was no reason. He went back downstairs and met her in the kitchen as she entered. He was smiling and looked almost boyish, hands in his hip pockets. A Distant flame 201 "Don't tell me," he said, grinning. "You heard I haven't written the speech I have to give tonight, and you've come to see if I'm lazy or stupid ." "Catherine called me and said she was worried about you, that she didn't think you looked good and that you might be worried about all this hubbub," said his sister, Martha. Charlie looked at her with nearadoration . She had been his goad and conscience for much of their life, a woman of plentiful certainties who had four children and nine grandchildren of her own. Her late husband, Jack Wilkins, lay in the cemetery not three hundred yards from Grace House, struck down by apoplexy while singing a hymn in church, which most people considered a lovely death. Martha sawonly irony,went on, lived alone in afine home on the growing south side of town. "I haven't looked good since 1900," he said. "I'm so glad you people have agreed to turn my slight concern over this event into a panic." "You don't look good," said Martha. "Your skin is gray. If you're going to die, you have to wait until tomorrow. If you ruin the anniversary celebration, I'll never be able to attend church again without all the biddies thinking I'm pathetic and alone. Come on, let's sit in the parlor. I want to ask you something." "It would be a great pleasure for me." A sudden tipping on the polished oak floorboards: Belle coming down the hall, Mrs. Knight rapidly coming after her with soft quick steps. "I opened the door, and she come running in," said Mrs. Knight. "Dog has no manners and don't obey." "It's all right, she's come to nuzzle Martha," said Charlie. "Belle's always loved her more than me anyway." "She has," said Martha,who knelt and hugged the waggingdog.Mrs. Knight muttered back into another room, while Belle ran ahead of Martha and Charlie and sprawled panting on the cool floor. They sat in the old but excellent furniture, and Marthalooked closely at her brother. "I hear Mr.Josiah Biggswanted to make a speech and is a bit peevish ," she said. "But everyone knows he stammers. Mr. James Felden is said to be unclear whether it's his wedding anniversary or something else. And of course T.D. Varnell can't fit into his uniform. So that leaves you to be the sane and sensible one, Charlie. Plus they're more than ten years older than you are and in their wandery years. Now what I want to know is this. Are you up to this? Because I'd rather have you alive and here rather than dead on the stage at Ezra Atkinson Park." 202 PHILIP LEE WILLIAMS He looked at his sister with quiet pleasure. She had suffered in this...