Maude

by Donna Mabry

  I went upstairs. George was still sound asleep. I shook his shoulder gently. He stirred a little, but then went back to sleep. I shook him a little harder.

  He opened his eyes. “What?”

  “If you don’t get up now, we’ll be late for church, George.”

  He sat up in the bed and started rubbing his chin, but didn’t look me in the eye. “I don’t go to church, Maude.”

  “What do you mean? Everybody goes to church.”

  “Well, I don’t. I’ll hitch up the wagon and I’ll drive you, and I’ll wait outside for you to bring you home, but I don’t go to church.”

  I was shocked. I’d never heard of such a thing. “Why not?”

  “Ma doesn’t believe in it. She keeps the old ways, and I just never started up.”

  “What does that mean, the old ways?”

  “It’s the religion of her people. They call their idea of God Wakondah.”

  “What does that mean, their idea of God?”

  “It’s not like we think of our God, but more like a spiritual force that directs their lives. The holy man is kind of like the preacher and he teaches the people how to act and what to do to honor Wakondah.”

  “But Bessie never missed a meeting.”

  “When she was a girl, Bessie went to church with one of her girlfriends, and when she came home she said she’d been saved and she got baptized and that was that. She went to church every meeting from then on.”

  “But you came to church with her.”

  “When you’re in Bessie’s house you do what she tells you to do, but this is my house, and I’m not going to church.”

  “You said that they don’t think of God the way that we do. Does that mean you believe in Jesus, like us, or in this Wakondah, like your mother?”

  “I guess I believe in both of them. I believe in God and I believe in Jesus being his Son and all that, but I don’t go to church.”

  “You never accepted Him for your Savior or got baptized?”

  “No.”

  I thought about this for a few minutes. Finally, I said, “Well, Lulu and I will go to church every Sunday, and I’d appreciate it if you hitched up the wagon and drove us, but if you don’t want to do that, we’ll walk.”

  He got up and in a few minutes, he pulled the wagon to the front door and waited. Lulu and I had been watching for him, and we went out and climbed up. George made no move to get down and help us.

  I thought about the tattoos I’d seen on the old woman’s forearms. “Do those pictures on your mother’s arms have something to do with her religion?”

  “Sort of, her people all wore them in the old days. I’m surprised she showed them to you.”

  “She didn’t. I saw them when she was cleaning chickens.”

  I didn’t speak another word on the way to church. My mind was turning over what we’d talked about that morning. If I’d known George wasn’t a born-again Christian, I wouldn’t have married him, and I wouldn’t have cared what anybody said. Besides, no one would have blamed me then for turning him down, even if I had gone for an unchaperoned buggy ride.

  It was too late. I would have to live my life as an example to him and hope that someday the Lord would call him, the same way He called me, back when I was only eleven years old, and Lulu, when she was nine.

  The way to the church was straight through town. I couldn’t help but notice how everyone we passed greeted George with a smile and a wave. It seemed to be true what his deputy’s wife, Sarah, had told me. Everyone liked George. He stopped a few times to introduce us to people, and they were all friendly to both Lulu and me.

  When we got to the church, several people came over to say hello. Our neighbors, the Taylors, were with them. Clara’s husband wasn’t at all what I’d pictured. Clara was a few years older than I was, but her husband looked to be at least fifty, and was as plump as an October hog. Her being so slim, that surprised me. He met us with a cheerful expression. “I’m happy for Clara to have a woman friend right next to us,” he told me.

  George got down from the wagon and helped Lulu and me down, but then he climbed back up on the seat. He looked down at me. “I’ll be back here to pick you up when the service is over.”

  I’d hoped he would change his mind and come inside for the meeting, but I could see that it wasn’t going to happen--today--so I just nodded. Clara smiled up at George. “You go on home, George. Our buggy is big enough for us to bring them home. There’s no need for you to sit out here three hours with nothing do to.”

  He tipped his hat. “If you say so, Clara. Is that all right with you, Maude?”

  I was embarrassed and I just nodded. Clara hooked her arm in mine and took me to meet some of the other women. Maggie pulled Lulu’s hand and led her over to meet some other girls their age. I looked back and saw George was driving off.

  It was time for the service to begin, and we filed inside and took our seats. Lulu and I sat next to the Taylors, about halfway to the back. We sang and prayed for a half-hour and then the preacher took his text from Matthew 25:34, his voice rich and full, rising and falling as he read the words of Christ about welcoming strangers.

  The words were a happy challenge to me, and I was sure they were the same to every Christian in the church that day. Every person I’d met in the town of Kennett, Missouri, had greeted me with Christ’s attitude, except, of course, George’s mother. I couldn’t help but wonder if Wakondah wouldn’t rebuke the old lady for being so rude.

  After the preaching, we sang some more songs, and a few people repented of unexplained sins. Several people testified to God’s goodness in their lives. Finally, the preacher gave the invitation, and Lulu and I went forward, handing him the letters of membership my home pastor had given me. He asked for a vote, and we were accepted into the church. We stood at the front with the preacher while another song was sung, and every member walked around in a circle to shake our hands and welcome us. I was so happy I cried. I didn’t yet feel that the house I was living in was mine, but I did have a church home there in Kennett.

  Chapter 16

  Things at the house settled into a sort of miserable peace between me and George’s mother. I was satisfied to let the old woman do the chores she had always done, the cooking and most of the cleaning. I did my own laundry separately and spent my extra time sewing for myself or Lulu and George. I talked to Clara for a while every day and gave thanks to God for sending her to me and sending Maggie to Lulu. It was only a few weeks before she filled the hole left in my life when we moved away from Bessie.

  I saw Clara hanging out her wash one Wednesday morning and went over to chat for a while. As I came close to her, I saw she had dark circles under her eyes.

  “Are you feeling all right?” I asked.

  She didn’t look at me. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “I hope you’re not taking sick. Do you have a fever?”

  “No, no fever. Really, I’ll be all right,” Clara said, shaking out a sheet before hanging it on the line. I took the other end of the sheet and held it up while Clara pinned it. Something wasn’t right. I could tell, but I didn’t want to be nosy, so I held my peace.

  “I never knew you to do your wash on a Wednesday,” I said. “Maybe my odd habits are rubbing off on you.” I did my own clothes any time it struck my fancy. Clara shook her head, “It isn’t that, but I do like how you wash clothes any day you want.”

  I laughed. “That’s just because Mom Foley does hers on a Monday, and I don’t want to mix in on her routine.”

  Clara looked over at my back door. “I wouldn’t want to upset her, either.”

  Clara and I finished hanging up the sheets, and Clara stretched her back. “Let’s sit for a spell and have some tea.”

  She and I fetched the drinks from her kitchen and sat in the twin rockers on Clara’s back porch. I knew that she needed to unburden herself of something, but I didn’t want to force her to talk about it before she was ready. We sat quie
t for a few minutes and then Clara began, “If you don’t want to answer this, don’t, but I was wondering, how are things with you and George, I mean, you know, in private?”

  I knew what she meant, but my private life was something I’d never talked about much with anyone, even my husbands. I swallowed hard and stared out at the oak tree like I was examining the branch arrangement. Normally, I wouldn’t think of talking about so personal a thing to anyone, but maybe it would be all right to confide in Clara. I trusted her, and she had something on her mind that she needed to talk about with another woman. I said, “Not like it was with me and my first husband. James and I fit together, you see, and George is, --is different. He can’t do all he wants because he’s so big it hurts me.”

  “Well, that part of my married life isn’t what I expected with Alfred and me, either.” Clara stared off in the other direction, neither of us wanting to look one another in the eyes. I waited for her to go on, and when she didn’t, I asked, “Is that why you look so peaked this morning?”

  “Yes, he bothered me last night.”

  “Is he too much for you, like George is for me?”

  “No, he isn’t so big he hurts me,” she sighed and took a deep breath. “I been wanting to talk to someone about this for fifteen years, but I was always afraid to, Maude. You’re the first one I felt close enough to that I can tell it, and I’ve only known you a few weeks.”

  “Go ahead, Clara. It’ll be between you and me.”

  Clara took another deep breath. “Well, he’s older than I am, so he doesn’t bother me as often as he used to, and that’s some help. It’s just that when he does, he won’t wear anything, so he does it naked and he wants me naked, too.”

  I waited. Being naked didn’t seem like a problem. James and I almost always had relations without any nightclothes, especially in the warm days of summer. When Clara didn’t go on, I urged her a little. “That doesn’t seem bad, Clara.”

  “No, not by itself it isn’t, it’s just that when he--, ah, when he--, oh, I don’t know how to say it.”

  “Just go ahead and tell me, Clara.”

  “When he gets done, he passes out and messes the bed. It gets all over him and the bed--, and Maude, it gets all over me.”

  I tried to think of some sort of words that might comfort Clara. “He doesn’t hit you or hurt you, or anything like that, does he?”

  “Oh, no, he’s never hit me once in all the years we been married. But,--it’s awful, Maude. When he passes out like that, he’s so heavy I have to push him off me, and I can’t get him out of the bed to clean up after him until the morning.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I get up and clean myself and then go sleep on the sofa. I asked him to wear his underwear, because that might help keep things cleaner, but he refuses.”

  “Has he always messed the bed like that?”

  “Ever since the very first time we did it. Back then, he was younger and not so heavy and he wanted it a lot more. When we were first married, he bothered me almost every night.”

  I nodded, kept my eyes on the oak tree, and considered that there were worse things than going to bed with George. Finally, I looked at Clara, who still had her head turned, and reached out and took her hand, “We all got something to bear, Clara. At least he doesn’t want it as much as he used to. Maybe someday soon he’ll get to where he won’t want it at all.”

  “That would be an answer to prayer, Maude. There’s just that one thing wrong with him. He’s a good husband to me. He treats me kind, and he loves his little girl, and he gives us anything we need.”

  “There’s a whole lot of women would wish for that from their husbands, Clara, a whole lot.”

  “I don’t know if they’d want to take what comes with it, Maude.”

  I reflected that they probably wouldn’t. After that day, I could just look at Clara and know by her face when Alfred had bothered her the night before.

  Chapter 17

  It was on a Monday, about a month after I came to Kennett, when I walked to town to check on my order for fabric and wallpaper. I was excited when the shopkeeper told me they’d finally received what I wanted for the bedroom. He gathered up the paste and brushes and other things I would need, added them to the bill that George paid once a month, and said he would hold them in the back room until George came to bring them home.

  I stopped by to tell him that my order was in. I found him like I always did, with his feet up on the desk, his chin on his chest, and sound asleep. I put my hand on his knee and shook it to wake him. He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Maude, what brings you to town?”

  “My things are in at the store. You can pick them up on your way home. I can’t wait for us to start work on the bedroom. It’s going to be so nice, George.”

  He smiled at how excited I was, nodded a little, and closed his eyes to go back to his nap. “I know you’re going to have a good time with it, Maude. I’ll see you for supper, like always, unless someone robs the bank or something.” Before I could answer him, he was asleep.

  I left the office and stopped to talk to several people on my way home. They all asked after George and smiled when I said he was just fine. Again, I thought how nice it was that everybody liked George.

  I’d been looking forward to the decorating ever since the day I had George’s permission to place the order. When he came home that night, I almost ran out to meet him, but he hadn’t brought the supplies home with him.

  I tried to hide my disappointment. “I thought you’d be bringing my things home with you, George.”

  “I’ll have to hitch up the wagon one day. I can’t bring all that on the horse.”

  “You’ll do that tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  But when I saw him ride off to work the next morning, he wasn’t driving the wagon. He was riding his horse like he always did. I asked him again that night, and again, he said he’d forgotten, but would do it the next day, but he didn’t.

  On Friday morning, when George rode his horse into town again, I went over to Clara’s.

  “I’d like to borrow that little play wagon of Maggie’s if I could, Clara. Looks like the only way I’m going to get my things here is if I go get them myself.”

  “Go right ahead and take it, Maude. We haven’t used it in a long time. You can keep it. I’m not busy now and it’s such a pretty day. I’ll walk in to town with you.”

  After the storekeeper loaded my decorating supplies into the wagon, I wanted to show George what I’d chosen. “Let’s stop by the Sheriff’s office on our way home,” I told Clara.

  She chuckled. “All right.”

  As usual, George was napping when we arrived. I shook his leg a little harder than usual. He smiled sheepishly at us when I told him why we’d come, and rubbed his chin that way he always did when he needed a minute to think of what he was going to say. “I kept intending to bring it, but I forget.”

  There were no smiles from me this time. “I’ll get it home by myself. We brought Maggie’s little wagon to put it in.”

  “All right, Maude. Just let me know if you want anything else. Nice to see you, Clara. Say hello to Alfred and Maggie for me.” He closed his eyes.

  Outside, Clara saw my frown and noticed that my lips were pressed tightly together. She knew I was angry, so she kept quiet while we began the walk home. It was such a pretty day, like Clara had said, and it wasn’t long before my anger went away. I finally had my things, but even though we talked happily about my plans for the bedroom, in the back of my mind, I kept thinking about George.

  He slept soundly every night and was asleep every time I saw him at work. How in the world could anyone sleep that much? When I left home that morning, the dogs and cats were all lying around the back yard taking their morning naps. It would be about an hour before they woke for lunch and settled down to take their afternoon naps. He must be part dog or cat.

  On Saturdays, George didn’t stay at the office all day. His habi
t had been just to go in to see the deputy, who was in charge for the weekend, and after chatting with one person or another, he would have a few beers at the saloon and then ride home. I didn’t approve of drinking anything with alcohol, but after he told me he didn’t go to church, I wasn’t surprised.

  Most Saturdays, he was back at the house by noon for his dinner. I’d been thinking we would start putting up the wallpaper after we ate. When he didn’t get home at the usual time, I walked out to the road and looked to see if he was coming. I did that every half-hour until five o’clock, but there was no sign of him. His mother was putting supper on the table at six, the usual time, when he finally rode up. I watched out of the upstairs window as he went to the barn and began his nightly ritual of taking care of his horse.

  I was jealous of Pawnee. He paid a lot more attention to that horse than he did to me. We ate in silence, the usually chattering Lulu picking up on my mood. After supper, Lulu went to play in the yard with Maggie, and I went upstairs and sewed for a while until it was dark.

  George didn’t come upstairs until I was in bed. I waited until he got under the covers to say anything. He settled his body down with his back to me. I lay on my back, not touching him. “I was thinking that we’d put the paper up today, George. Did something happen in town to keep you there?”

  “I had a few beers with some of the boys from one of the farms that I hadn’t seen for a while, and time got away from me. We can start on the paper tomorrow.”

  It would never occur to me to raise my voice but I couldn’t help tell him how disappointed I was in him. “You know good and well that I’d never do such a thing on the Lord’s Day, George.”

  He yawned loudly. “Suit yourself, but I can’t do it by myself you know. It takes two people to hang wallpaper.”

  I sparked at that. “I’ve seen Tommy hang paper at Helen’s house all alone and do a fine job of it, too, but I won’t ask you to work on Sunday, even if you’re not a Christian.”

  He sat up in the bed and sighed deeply. “Maude, it isn’t that I’m a heathen, just because I don’t go to church.”