The Woman in Traffic

Chapter 3: Talks with Papa Clyde

The Moreau family were sharecroppers who had come over to Texas, settling about an hour outside of Houston from Louisiana. For decades, the family farm had been passed down, finally coming into the possession of Clyde Bartholomew Moreau, June's Papa Clyde. He had taken the farm and made it home, rebuilding the farmhouse and moving his young family onto the estate many years ago. Now, it June's home as well.

The farm sat on an old dirt road with only a small mailbox on the corner, Moreau faintly painted on the side, the only sign of residents for miles. On the east-facing side sat the Moreau home. A small slave house; her grandfather's pride and joy. June's father and his siblings had grown up there, over the years, Papa Clyde built on the tiny slave house into a decent-sized home, complete with a porch and an extra-large kitchen for Nana Adelaide.

To the west was the pasture filled with cows and horses; it seemed to stretch for miles, enclosed in an old wooden fence. This was one of June's favorite spots. She'd sit on the fence post after finishing her chores, watching the sunset listening to the cicadas in the trees until her grandmother called her inside for supper.

To the North sat June's bungalow about fifty yards from the stables. Her grandfather had remodeled the old stablehand shack the summer of her 18th birthday. She loved it. It was the best gift anyone had ever given her. It had a cute bathroom with hand sew curtains, a small kitchen with a stove with only two burners.  Her small thrift couch and tv in the front room and her bedroom in the back, with a closet full of June and Alex's clothing. This was supposed to be where they started their life together.

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As June arrived home after her busy day, she could finally decompress. She changed into a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt slid on Alex's baseball cap, and took off to the stables. June had been taking care of the animals since childhood. June's parents would drive her out to the countryside every summer to spend a month with her grandparents. Her parents would drop her off with quick hugs and kisses on their way to catch a flight somewhere tropical. A tradition they stuck to even now. June's father didn't get along with his father, Papa Clyde, so he spent as little on the farm as possible.

June had a lot of responsibility on the farm as an only child, and she loved every minute of it. Bathing and brushing the horses, milking the cows, and feeding the pigs, but talking with her Papa Clyde after a long day's work, was her favorite.

Even as an adult, she still loved the farm. Caring for the animals was the only time her mind could rest. Working on the farm was muscle memory at this point; she didn't even have to think about it. This evening though, she worked with haste, spilling feed across the barn as she raced to feed the cows. Forgetting to refill the horses' water trough, completely ignoring the pigpen. June's grandfather watched from the house.

"She's just making a damn mess," Clyde grumbled, watching June fumble about the farm from the kitchen window.

"Maybe something is wrong," Adelaide added, tending to dinner. "Go check on her; if anyone can calm her down, it's you."

Clyde nodded and put on his boots, pushing through the backdoor. June had finished her chores sloppily by now and was perched on the fence overlooking the pasture, taking in deep breaths of the warm, humid air.

"Somethin' botherin' ya Junebug?" Papa Clyde's deep voice breaking her concentration.

"I'm not sure," June replied.

"Well, when you sit up there on the fence doing all that sighin', it's somethin' wrong." Clyde continued, "so go on."

Clyde Moreau was a traditional man; that's one reason he and June's father never got along. He never forgave June's father for moving away from the farm as the oldest son. A large man. He stood almost six foot eight. June used to think he was as tall as the trees as a little girl looking up to him. His skin was as rich as a Hershey's bar and just as smooth. His salt and peppered shadow covered his cheeks and chin.