by T. L. Haddix
I am still submitting to the rigors Dr. Milton insists upon. The medication is starting to get into my system, and it’s the oddest thing, Sarah. I still feel, but at the same time, I don’t. I’ve yet to determine whether that’s a good thing or bad.
Mama’s still watching me like a hawk, and I can’t really blame her for that. I’d watch me too, I suppose. I know she does it because she loves me. I only hate that I gave her reason to have to be so concerned.
How’s the house coming along? Do you think it’ll be ready in time for the twins? You’re going to need the room, that’s for certain. In a couple of months, you’ll be up to your eyeballs in sweet babies. I’m truly happy for you, Sarah. I won’t lie and say it’s easy for me to know you’re having a family, but I couldn’t have wished a better outcome for you. I’ve always thought a lot of Owen. He’s a lot like Daddy. He’s a good man.
Sarah had to look away from the letter. She bit her lip as tears threatened. Owen was a good man, and she’d gotten very lucky when he’d come into her life. Kathy, on the other hand… Sarah still had nightmares about what had happened to her sister.
Dr. Milton thinks I need to do some reading. She said to pick something that isn’t like what we were assigned in school but something fun. I don’t even know what fun is anymore, and sure as shooting, I never would have associated it with reading even when I did. I can’t seem to sit still for more than five minutes these days, not with all the thinking Dr. Milton insists upon. I don’t know how in the world she expects me to sit long enough to read a chapter, much less a whole book.
Since you do seem to enjoy the endeavor, I’m hopeful you can point me in the direction of something that won’t bore me to utter tears. I’ve cried enough lately, and I’m sick of it. So send me some names of books or something, sister dear. I’m counting on you.
I’m cooking and cleaning for all I’m worth these days. I’ve rearranged the kitchen cabinets so much Mama’s starting to get aggravated with me. She’s gone to look for something twice now and not been able to find it. I just don’t know what else to do with myself. I took that course last year on being a secretary, and you know I do some typing for folks here and there, but I’m starting to think I ought to look for a job once I get a little stronger. The thought of going outside the house to work scares me to death still. Who am I to think I can possibly get a job as a typist? Little backwards girl from Hazard, Kentucky. That’s a funny thought, isn’t it? Bet you never thought you’d hear that from me, that I was thinking about getting a job.
I’ll close now. You’d best take care of yourself and those babies, and give my brother-in-law a hug. Keep him in line now, and don’t try to do too much. You’re going to need all the strength you can get for when my nieces or nephews get here.
Much love,
Kathy
For a few minutes, Sarah sat there running her fingers along the edge of the envelope. She was bemused by the letter’s contents. Of all things, she’d never have expected Kathy to ask her about books. Oh, sure, Kathy liked Owen’s books. They were children’s stories he wrote and illustrated, and they had a strong sentimental meaning for her sister. But she’d never been one to voluntarily pick up anything more than a magazine.
“How is she?” Owen asked as he stepped outside. “He’s asleep, by the way. I don’t see how he does that—running around like a wild child one minute, conked out on the couch the next.”
Sarah smiled as he sat beside her, and she shifted so he could rub her back. “It comes with being two, I think. And she’s… different. She asked me about books to read.”
Owen’s eyebrows rose. “Kathy?”
“Mm-hmm. Kathy.” She looked at him, laughing softly. “I think she’s turned a corner. Maybe a small corner, but this letter was unlike any other I’ve had from her. A little lower, please.”
“Here?” He pressed gently on one of the spots that was bothering her most.
Sarah closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “Oh, that’s nice.”
He kissed her temple. “So how’s this letter different?”
She considered her response. “I guess… I guess this one sounds like she has some hope for the future. Or at least she’s starting to think about making plans.” And hope was something Sarah had thought her sister had given up on a long time ago.
Chapter Nine
Not wanting to venture into the library until she’d heard from Sarah, Kathy instead picked up a couple of cheap novels from the rack at the five-and-dime store when she went in to get some sundries for the house the day after her visit with Dr. Milton. One of the books was a truly awful pulp-fiction-style lurid novel featuring the exploits of an oversexed housewife who ended up hunting zombies with her lover. The other was a more thoughtful story of a young man’s coming of age in a small town.
To her absolute shock, Kathy devoured them both within two days. She told Dr. Milton as much at her next appointment.
“I hated reading when I was a kid. Hated it. But those books… I forgot, just for a little while as I was reading, I forgot who I am. What I am.”
Dr. Milton regarded her thoughtfully. “What do you think you are exactly?”
Kathy shrugged, her shoulders tight as she laced her fingers together in her lap. “Tainted. An adulteress.”
“Literally, yes, you are at least the adulteress part. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be forgiven.”
“Well, it does if you follow the Bible. That’s just about the only sin that can never be fully erased. Why is that, do you think? Why do you think God forgives murderers and baby killers easier than he forgives adulterers?” Kathy’d been trying to figure out the answer to that question for years, and she’d yet to come up with a single good explanation. “And why do you think it is that a man can beat his wife and cheat on her and strangle her and rape her”—she choked over the hated word—“but in the eyes of God, she still has to cling to him and bow down before him? If she leaves him, if she tries to get away and get her children away, she’s the sinner. How is that good and righteous, Dr. Milton?”
“I personally don’t believe it is,” Dr. Milton said softly.
“Then you’re one of only a handful of people I know who feels that way. Most everyone I’ve ever met outside my family either feels like I was rightfully punished for not being a good wife or they act like I should have just taken what he gave me. I did take it. I took it for years and years until I just couldn’t stand it anymore. And we see where my leaving got me.”
“Do you feel like you were rightfully punished, Kathy?”
Kathy shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know. For the cheating, the leaving? No. That was my right to choose. My choice to make. Not Randall’s, not Clay’s. That’s all on me, and I know I did what I had to do. Most days I know, that is. But…”
Dr. Milton waited patiently, but when Kathy didn’t continue after a minute, she prodded softly. “But what?”
“I didn’t protect my babies the way I should have, and for that… I’ll never be punished enough,” Kathy whispered. “I’ll pay for letting him get his hands on them until the day I die and probably until I burn up in Hell and beyond.”
The rest of the session was slow, excruciating, and Kathy almost got up and ran out several times. But she stuck it out, and by the time she left, she was wiped out.
“That seems to be the pattern though,” she murmured as she leaned against the back of the seat on the bus as she rode home, not seeing a bit of the passing scenery.
When she got off at her stop, it took every bit of energy she had left to make it the half a block to the house. After taking a brief moment to write her mother a note explaining her fatigue, she headed straight to her bedroom where she undressed, crawled between the sheets, pulled the covers over her head, and shut out the world.
“I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”
Reading every book she cou
ld get her hands on in the next few weeks was how Kathy got by. At first, she went back to the five-and-dime and used some of the money she’d set back from the small pension she received after Randall’s death. She bought nearly every book they had, her only criteria being that the title looked the least bit interesting, and read them almost as fast as she got them.
By the time Sarah’s letter with a response came two weeks after Kathy had sent her query, Kathy had started to get an idea of what she liked. She’d written Sarah again to let her know what she’d found, what she was reading, but she was curious to see what her sister recommended. So she opened the missive with eagerness and not a little dread—she wasn’t sure how Sarah would respond.
“If she makes fun of me… but Sarah wouldn’t,” she told herself as she unfolded the pages.
Dear Kathy,
I’m so excited for you and so happy that you’re willing to try reading. I think it will open up a whole other world you never knew about. I hope you’ll enjoy it more now that you’re an adult. There are so many different authors I’d like to introduce you to I’m not sure where to start. Let’s see…
I know you’re not a child, but one of the series I like for younger readers or our new readers who’ve participated in the literacy program are the Trixie Belden Mysteries. Yes, they read a little young, but they’re really good books. I still grab the new installments when they come out (and wrestle Owen for them). I think you might like those.
Anne of Green Gables and the related books by Lucy M. Montgomery are hard to pass up. You can’t really go wrong with her.
If you want something a little more “out of this world,” you might look at authors like Ray Bradbury or Philip K. Dick. They both write science fiction, and it isn’t all about Martians and aliens. It’s just good reading that thinks outside the box. I like them well enough, but they’re some of Owen’s favorite writers. He says hello, and he’s very proud of you, by the way. He also recommends Robert Heinlein.
Agatha Christie is a master storyteller if you want to explore more adult-themed mysteries. Obviously I can’t not recommend the Sherlock Holmes books. Holmes and Watson are phenomenally entertaining.
Louis L’Amour is a great western writer, but I’m not a tremendous fan.
I’d strongly encourage you to visit the library in Savannah and make some contacts with them. A librarian who loves to read and whose tastes are similar to yours is a priceless gift. Of course you have your very own private librarian in me, but a correspondence, as much fun as it might be, isn’t the same as being there in person to show you books and have an open discussion.
That said, I look very forward to seeing what you think of my recommendations.
The house is finished, thank God, and it’s so quiet and peaceful… I know that won’t last for long, but for right now, we’re enjoying it. John doesn’t know what to think about all this room and space. I didn’t realize how small Owen’s studio was until we moved in here. I have so much room I don’t know what to do with myself, but oh, it’s nice. And I’m so glad our bedroom is on the first floor. I don’t know if I could climb those steps every night.
The babies will be here soon, I think, quite possibly before you receive this letter. I’m ready for them in so many ways. At the same time, I can’t help looking at my family, at my ever-growing belly, and feeling pure hate for that man and what he did to you, to all of us. I’d kill him a thousand times over if he rose from the grave, Kathy. And then I’d start over again.
Kathy knew she meant it. As much anger and hatred as she herself had for Randall, Sarah somehow had more. There was so much rage in her sister, Kathy worried about her. Sarah still refused to say his name, only referring to him as “that man” and “the bastard.” Eliza said it was because Sarah blamed herself for what had happened.
I always hesitate to write you about family things because I’m so afraid I’ll hurt you, but time and again, you’ve assured me that you don’t mind, that you enjoy hearing about our little debacles. One of these days, I’m going to have to take you at your word. Just promise me you will tell me if it’s too much. Please?
Gilly is doing well enough. She and Jack didn’t make it up here for the Fourth, so it was just us and John. She still isn’t working, as the poor thing turns green at the least little smell. Jack’s positively beside himself with worry, and Owen Campbell—the beast—sits back and laughs at him as if he wasn’t in those exact same shoes two years ago (and privately now if we’re being honest). If the dirty looks Jack sends him are any indication, our dear brother won’t forget that transgression any time soon. It’s going to be fun to see what form of retribution he comes up with for Owen. I’m sure it will be fitting and tremendously entertaining.
John is growing so fast you won’t know him when you see him again. He’s starting to talk in sentences, though they’re mostly still nonsensical. The poor little guy—I don’t think he has any concept of what he’s in for with these new siblings. He keeps Owen on his toes, and they both keep me in stitches laughing at them.
Speaking of Owen, he laughs so much easier these days, Kathy, and smiles… there are still dark days when he questions why he deserves to be happy, to have this life we’ve built together, and I have to reassure him it isn’t just a dream. Those are the days I condemn Hank Campbell to the pits of Hell itself alongside… we’ll not mention the bastard too. Owen’s father has a lot to answer for.
Thankfully, those days are mostly behind us, I think. It’s very rare that he has to endure them. I’d like to take full credit for that, but honestly, I think my influence is only part of the picture. Chasing after an active two-year-old who adores him has done a world of good for the man. For someone who was scared to death to start a family, my dear, sweet husband has accepted the mantle as though he was born to it. Truthfully, I suspect he was. It just took John David to show him.
There’s a vitally important lesson there for all of us, I think. Second chances do exist, and even first chances too. Even if it feels like they aren’t real, there’s always hope. I thank God daily for placing me in Owen’s path and vice versa. I hope that someday, someone will get placed in your path. I refuse to believe it won’t happen. Remember what you told me about finding a man who loved me and not settling for anything or anyone less? I still have a dream that a man like that will happen for you.
I’d best close now as these boys or girls—heaven help Owen if they’re girls—are kicking up a storm.
With love and kisses,
Sarah
Kathy found herself laughing at the idea of Owen with two daughters even as she wiped away tears at the poignant words her sister had written.
Eliza, who’d been in the kitchen, poked her head around the corner. “What’s so funny?”
“The idea of those twins being girls,” Kathy said as she stood and joined Eliza. “I surely hope they are if for no other reason than to mess with Owen.”
From the time Sarah had announced her pregnancy with John, Owen had been proclaiming his desire for sons only, proclamations that had only gotten louder with this pregnancy, as the odds rose against him.
“Girls are too much trouble,” he’d say with a grin and a glimmer of desperation that indicated the man knew he was up the creek with no paddle in sight.
Her mother snickered and went back to the sink. “You know as well as I do that they’d have him wrapped around their fingers as soon as he got to hold them.”
“Mm, I do. He’s a good father. That’s what Sarah was saying in her letter.” Kathy sat at the small table with a sigh. “I don’t know what to tell her, Mama, to get through to her. She shouldn’t blame herself, but I think you’re right. She still does. She had no part in what Randall did, none at all. There’s no way she could have done anything to stop him, and she might have gotten herself killed if she tried.”
Eliza’s breath caught for a second, though she coughed t
o cover it up. “I wish both my daughters could see that.”
“Both your daughters weren’t married to him, only me,” Kathy shot back. To her surprise, her voice was steady.
“Yes, I know. And I also know that with very little exception, a woman isn’t responsible for how her husband acts unless she deliberately provokes him. Even then, he’s the one who has to decide to respond. I was married to your father, bless the man, for more than twenty years. I was no more responsible for what he did than the man in the moon. I didn’t always agree with Ira, you know. He made some mistakes in his thinking, sometimes big mistakes. Like when he turned his back on you after you went back to Randall.” Eliza looked at her, her eyes solemn. “If he were still alive, I’d have a hard time forgiving him for that now. I blame him, you know. At least in part.”
Kathy was stunned into silence as she stared at her mother. Slowly, she shook her head. “Mama, I… what?”
A couple of years before the accident, Kathy’d caught Randall cheating on her. She’d taken Moira and fled to her parents’ house, outraged, heartbroken, and relieved. But Randall had followed, begging her to not leave him, to give him another chance. For weeks, he worked at her, lying to her and telling her everything she wanted to hear in order to get her to change her mind about divorcing him.
But then she’d discovered she was several weeks pregnant, and too ashamed to tell her parents, Kathy went back. A week later, Randall beat her and caused a miscarriage. Her parents never knew. By then, it was too late for her to get out.
Ira was so angry he’d washed his hands of her. “You’ve made your bed. You go lie in it.”
They’d barely spoken a dozen words until a year later, when he was diagnosed with cancer and her mother needed help. Ira relented then and worked hard to make amends, but the damage was done. Kathy was already pregnant with Clay’s baby when her father died, and her fate was set in stone.
