Sold on a Monday: A Novel
Sold on a Monday: Part 3 – Chapter 38

Somewhere along the way, they took a wrong turn. Two, in fact. Traversing unfamiliar highways and country roads was difficult enough in and of itself, much less on a moonless, rainy night. Add in weariness from the week, and it was no wonder Lily had misread the map. Twice.

All the backtracking was costing them more time, and civility. Her apologies for the errors had prompted assurances from Ellis, but only of the compulsory sort. From his growing aloofness, her own defenses arose. Combined, they formed an imposing third passenger. When at last they found Tilikum Road, she was more anxious than ever to reach their destination.

Car slowing, they rolled down their windows. There were fewer chances of locating the home through rain-streaked glass. The scents of mud and wet straw wafted in, as did moisture that dampened their seats and clothing. Minor grievances, given their objective.

“There’s a house.” Lily pointed toward lights set back from her side of the road. Could Calvin finally be this close?

“Look for the mailbox.”

She strained her vision. Sprawling fields appeared to dominate the area. The irony that Calvin had landed in a place so similar to the home he’d lost was as comforting as it was cruel. “Right there.” A tin postal box caught the beam of the head lamps.

Ellis stopped within reading distance and cleared his windshield with the manual wiper blade. The documents remained on Lily’s lap, yet the couple’s names and address were already etched into her mind.

She sighed at the painted numbers on the box. “It’s not theirs.”

“Just keep an eye out for the next.”

He was right to sound unfazed. On the map, the road wasn’t all that long. The correct house had to be here somewhere.

She resumed her focus as they drove on. The rattling of the engine was nearly lost to the pattering of rain and chirping of crickets.

Another wrong mailbox, and another. A fourth bore no markings, and the absence of lights implied that the residents had retired for the night. Ellis opted to bypass them for the time being, saying he would circle back if needed. As they continued, however, the chance that it was the right one gnawed at her.

“Could we go back to that last one now?” It likely meant waking the household, but past nine o’clock in a farming area, that was going to be a common challenge. And they simply had to present their case before the director had a chance.

Ellis gave her an assessing glance, as if to decide if she was acting on a hunch or out of impatience. Whichever the conclusion, he replied, “I’ll flip around after this hill.”

“Thank you.”

The car sputtered up the remaining half of the incline, then coasted down. When the road went level, Ellis eased over to the side, allowing them the width to double back. As soon as they swung around, Lily spied another mailbox. Lit by the head lamps, its black letters on a white background read like a marquee.

GANTRY

“Stop,” she said, and he did. The A was partially worn off, the Y obscured by rust, but there indeed was the surname. It matched the document signed by Bob and Ada Gantry. “That’s them.” Her pulse jittered.

Ellis leaned toward her, just enough to peer out her window.

A light was moving in the distance, being carried by someone. Then the figure disappeared into what looked to be a house.

“At least one person’s awake,” Lily said brightly.

Ellis agreed. But there was no racing to the finish line. He simply closed his window, cueing her to do the same, and rumbled slowly up the dirt drive. Scattered stones caused bumping and more rattling.

They parked near the barn. “Let me do the talking,” he said. There was no arrogance in the statement, no note of condescension.

And it dawned on Lily that his stoicism over the course of the drive had been from contemplating his approach, as every word could be crucial.

“Are you sure?” she said. “I’d be glad to start it off if you’d like.” True, her discussion with the orphanage director hadn’t been fruitful—not directly so—but it had given her practice.

“I need to fix this.” He sounded dutiful as he angled to face her. “They’ve had him only a few months. If they’ll just agree to speak with Geraldine, I’m sure they’ll understand. She’s a caring, decent person. And she’s Calvin’s real mother. How in good conscience could they say no?”

“They couldn’t,” Lily agreed. Now she was the one who needed to instill confidence, regardless of her stirring fears. She even smiled. “I’ll go with you.”

He nodded, a flash of appreciation in his eyes.

Through the rain, they hustled toward the covered porch. The two-story farmhouse was light-colored and typical in structure, from what she could tell at night. Ellis didn’t hesitate to knock, though the wait lasted an eternity.

Finally, the front door opened halfway. Behind the screen door, a woman held a kerosene lamp. She wore a house robe and slippers, a long braid draping her shoulder. Yellow flickered over her elongated face.

“Mrs. Gantry?” Ellis began.

“Yes?”

“Ma’am…I realize it’s late to drop by—”

“Who’s down there?” a gruff voice cut in, startling Lily.

In lieu of answering, Mrs. Gantry made way for her husband—presumably. He arrived barefoot in a long, plaid nightshirt that covered his hefty paunch. The back of his hair stood on end as if molded by a pillow.

Lily reflexively lowered her eyes a little.

“Well?” he barked, this time at Ellis.

“I do apologize if we woke you, sir.”

“This damn well better be important. Come mornin’, I got fields to tend to,” he said as Mrs. Gantry set the lamp on the entry table. She receded into the background, looking timid but curious as her husband continued. “And if you’re out to sell something, you can keep right on going.”

“Not at all, Mr. Gantry. We’ve come about something else entirely.”

The man slid his gaze toward Lily, who smiled amiably to no reaction before Ellis went on. “You see, we’re here about a child you and your wife recently took in. A boy named Calvin. From the Warren County Home for Children.”

Mr. Gantry appeared dubious. “Yeah. What about it?”

While “it” could have been in reference to the topic, Lily couldn’t help balking at the idea that he was referring to Calvin.

At least the man had inadvertently confirmed the adoption. The realization sent Lily’s mind wandering past the couple and into the house. Was Calvin upstairs, tucked into bed? Would he come running if she hollered his name?

She held herself back as Ellis presented the essentials of their predicament—of a child taken in error, a loving mother all alone—ending with hope for a solution, if only the couple would meet with Geraldine.

Mr. Gantry folded his arms over his nightshirt, his raised sleeve exposing a torpedo tattoo on his forearm. Surely from his time in the Great War, it suited his abrasive bearing well. “I see the problem you all got,” he acknowledged. “Now this here’s mine. I gave up good money for that boy. Bought him fair ’n’ square.”

Lily must have misheard. “Bought him?”

“That’s right. Had fees for his shots and paperwork, and all that business. So, I got no interest in talking to no woman. I don’t care what her story is. Boy’ll be working the farm, like I got him for.”

Lily made no effort to hide her disgust. No wonder his grown sons had up and left, rather than staying to help work the land. She glanced at Mrs. Gantry, who cowered with a look of shame before slinking out of sight.

“I’ll pay you,” Ellis said, preventing a retort from Lily.

Mr. Gantry squinted an eye. “What’s that you say?”

“Whatever you spent, I’ll reimburse you in full.”

Laying the groundwork, that had been the plan. But that was prior to learning of Calvin’s servitude.

Mr. Gantry studied Ellis through the screen. He was still leery but plainly, horrendously tempted. “That’d amount to twenty dollars.”

“Done.”

Ellis answered too quickly to have given it thought. The farmer appeared to catch that himself. He curled his bottom lip in a wry, calculating way. “Course, that’s not including food and clothing and other troubles we gone to. Kids can be expensive, you know.”

Ellis fell silent for several breaths. “How much?”

“Oh, I’d say doubling it to forty would be more in line.”

It was clear from the tension in Ellis’s jaw, if not the fisting of his hands, that his polite front was wearing thin. This was a human being, a child, they were bargaining over.

But if the men went to blows, Lily realized, even that option would vanish.

“Forty, you say?” Her question pulled Mr. Gantry’s attention. She reduced her pace to feign thoughtfulness. “It would…be a stretch. But I think we can manage it.”

“All right, then.” He nodded smugly. Then he opened the screen door, holding it wide, and wiggled the fingers of his free hand. “Let’s see it.”

She looked to Ellis. He had told her earlier: with his account blocked, after buying gasoline for the trip, he had a mere three dollars to his name. As for Lily, she didn’t have to scour her purse to know she didn’t have more than five.

“We actually don’t have it here,” she admitted, “but I’d be delighted to get it to you straightaway.” She would gladly take it out of the money she had saved at home.

“That’s what I figured.” Mr. Gantry huffed, concluding the negotiation—or maybe it had all been a test from the start. “Get off my property. And don’t neither of you come back, or I’ll sic the sheriff on ya.” With that, he released the screen door. Before it could slam, Ellis grabbed on.

“Now, just wait—”

Mr. Gantry skewered him with a glare. He fed out his words through gritted teeth. “You get your paws off, or things are gonna go bad real quick.”

Ellis surrendered his grip, letting the mesh return as a flimsy barrier, yet his tone gained an edge. “There’s a little boy we need to think about here.”

“Ada!” Mr. Gantry yelled without turning around. “Get me my shotgun.”

Lily grabbed on to Ellis’s arm and drew him back. “No need for that, sir. We’re leaving. We’re going right this minute.”

Ellis resisted for an unnerving moment before thankfully giving in. “Sure,” he said. “We’ll go.”

And they did.

Still, the farmer’s gaze followed and didn’t let up until the start of the engine. When the front door of the house closed, they stayed true to their word and drove away.

Though not as far, perhaps, as Mr. Gantry would have liked.