Page 48 of The Women of Oak Ridge
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:LAUREL
AUNT MAE WAS UP EARLTuesday morning. She greeted me with a smile when I entered the kitchen and acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred the previous day. I thought it best to play along. Despite a powerful need to know what happened to her roommate thirty-five years ago, I didn’t want to spoil things with a repeat of yesterday.
“I thought we could go to the hardware store and pick up some tomato plants,” she said, scraping fluffy scrambled eggs onto my plate once I was seated at the table. “Maybe a couple squash plants, too.”
I grinned, thrilled she seemed her usual self. “That sounds great. Mom tried gardening when the girls and I were little, but none of us has your green thumb. After the excitement of planting a garden wore off, we usually forgot to water it. It’s amazing how much a gardendoesn’tgrow without water.”
She set a plate of yummy-looking biscuits in the center of the table, along with fresh butter and homemade strawberry jam, then took a seat across from me.
After the blessing, she said, “Mama taught me all about growing vegetables and how to can them. Pa’s meager salary at the coal mine barely covered rent and things like flour, coffee, and sugar, so we relied on what we could grow and what Pa could shoot when he went hunting. When we did purchase necessities, we had to shop at the store owned by the coal mining company. They charged exorbitant prices, so Pa mostly had to use credit. The problem is, once you were in debt to the store, you had no choice but to do business with them. It was robbery, pure and simple, but there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it.”
“How long did Grandpa work at the mines?”
Her brow tugged. “He started mining coal when he was thirteen. His pa before him mined coal, too. That’s what most men did in that part of Kentucky. And like many miners, my pa and his pa died from black lung.”
The sobering reality of coal mining.
“I wish he and great grandpa could have had an easier life,” I said.
She sighed and set her fork down. “I did too. The reason I came to Oak Ridge was because the salaries offered here were higher than what I could get in Kentucky. I sent money home every chance I could so Pa could quit the mines.”
I reached across the table to place my hand over hers. “I’m sure your parents appreciated everything you did to help them.”
“Pa passed away soon after the war ended. That’s when Mama and Harris came to live with me.”
“In this house?” I asked, trying to envision my father as a teenager in Oak Ridge.
“No,” she said, “I hadn’t bought this place yet. I lived in a dormitory, but when Mama agreed to move, I rented a small house in town. Harris wasn’t too happy about leaving his friends. As soon as he graduated from high school, he moved to the big city.”
“You never wanted to move away? Go someplace more exciting?” I wriggled my eyebrows.
Aunt Mae didn’t smile. “I couldn’t leave Oak Ridge. I had to stay.”
Once again her choice of words intrigued me, but I let it go.
We finished breakfast, with me volunteering to clean up while she changed clothes for our outing. Within the hour, we were seated in the Z28. Once we arrived at the hardware store, Aunt Mae took hold of a small, wheeled shopping buggy and off we went.
I followed her around like a little kid. I couldn’t recall ever being inside a hardware store and found it new and interesting. She chuckled each time I stopped and asked about this item or that. Who knew replacement toilet seats came in so many different styles and colors.
“I see we need to get your nose out of those psychology books more often,” Aunt Mae teased.
I stood before a rack of colorful gardening gloves, trying to decide which pair to purchase, when Jonas and his father appeared at the end of the aisle. A warm flutter tightened my belly. Jonas wore his police uniform, looking official but devastatingly handsome.
“Well, fancy meeting you ladies here,” Elliot said. I noticed he walked with a cane, but his limp wasn’t too bad. “Getting ready to do some gardening, I see.” He indicated the small pots of plants and bag of potting soil in the buggy.
“Yes,” Aunt Mae and I said at the same time.
“Nothing like homegrown tomatoes,” she added.
Aunt Mae asked Elliot how he was doing. While he updated her on his accident and healing process, Jonas stepped closer to me.
“I’m looking forward to our dinner tonight.” His lowered voice was only for my ears.
I smiled. “Me too.”
“Do you like Mexican food? There’s a new place out on the turnpike that’s pretty good.”
“I love it.”
