Love in a Small Town

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  Then she slipped out of his shirt, let it drop on the floor, and stepped into the shower with him. Tommy Lee’s eyes popped wide, and then he grinned and caught her to him. They kissed with the water running in rivulets over their bodies. They washed each other’s backs and then some. Leaving her to finish washing her hair, Tommy Lee got out, and Molly heard him humming as he shaved. Peering around the shower curtain, she saw he was brushing his teeth, with her toothbrush.

  He was in the bedroom, looking for his socks, when she came in wrapped in a towel. Molly threw herself over him and began to pester him. He was surprised, but then he kissed her.

  “I do have a job . . . and so do you,” he said when he lifted his head.

  “Oh, Tommy Lee, I’m not suggesting we should let our responsibilities go—heaven forbid—even for one full day.” She dared to boldly caress his chest and willed away the sad, desperate fluttering in her chest.

  “But the world certainly will not come to an end if we spent a few hours, or even the entire morning in the bed.”

  She looked up at him. “I just want time with you, Tommy Lee.”

  Immediately she ducked her head, wishing to hide, feeling that she was asking Tommy Lee for intimacy he wasn’t prepared to give—feeling the familiar sickening terror of need of him and that she was about to fall into the empty abyss.

  She turned to push away from him, but he grabbed her and held her and forced her to look at him. His eyes were deep blue and intent. Then he kissed her long and hard, and he kissed her again.

  “I love you, Molly.”

  “Oh, Tommy Lee . . . I don’t want you to feel you have to . . ."

  “I don’t feel like I have to. I want you, Molly. I just have trouble sometimes lettin’ go of all that I know needs to be done. Maybe that isn’t romantic . . . but that’s me. Don’t pull away from me, Molly.”

  The panic in his voice caught her. She gazed at him and saw the earnestness on his face. She reached up and stroked his cheek. He ran his hand up her thigh and over her hip. Together they sank across the bed. Tommy Lee held her gaze and caressed her belly. The intent in his eyes and in his touch took her breath.

  Then his eyes twinkled. “Are old married people supposed to do this?” He whispered a lewd suggestion in her ear.

  “Oh, Tommy Lee!”

  “Well, we’re married.”

  Then he was kissing her and she was kissing him, and they were having a wonderful time, when into it all the telephone rang.

  “Leave it,” he said.

  Thinking her mother or Rennie would get the phone, Molly tried to ignore the incessant ringing and let Tommy Lee’s sweet touch take her away. But. “It could be Savannah.”

  “Your mother will get it.”

  But the telephone kept ringing, so now it was Molly turning away from Tommy Lee in order to answer the telephone. He gave her an annoyed look, and she wondered if either of them would ever get it right.

  She followed the cord to find the phone and answer. Stephen's voice came across the line. “Savannah’s started with contractions.”

  Molly and Tommy Lee raced around the room, trying to find clothes.

  “Oh, this is your sock.”

  “Give me my shirt.”

  “It’s in the bathroom. Tommy Lee, do you see Mama’s car out there? What about Rennie’s?”

  “No. Neither one. Why did Stephen call here? Shouldn’t he call the doctor? Did that idiot say they called the doctor?”

  “I didn’t ask. I do think they should handle it.”

  “You don’t look like you’re lettin’ them handle it.” Then he added under his breath, “Lettin’ them handle things is how they got at our house, and we got over here.”

  “Not at all, Tommy Lee, don’t blow it all out of proportion. You always do that. You exaggerate to make things just how you want them.”

  “I’m the calm one, remember?”

  He did look calm. He looked calm and annoyed at Molly, who kept telling him to hurry up. “I don’t really know why I’m goin’,” he said.

  “To drive, Tommy Lee . . . you’ll have to drive.” The entire time they were dressing they were making their way to the Corvette. Molly was slipping on her Keds while Tommy Lee turned the car around. She had the sudden thought that it was a strange howdo-you-do that their daughter had started into labor just as the future grandparents were enjoying sex. She wondered oddly if it showed and looked down at herself.

  “Do I look all right?” She brought sunglasses out of her purse.

  Tommy Lee cast her a puzzled frown as he shifted and pressed the accelerator. “You look like you just got out of the shower. I have to say that.” He shifted and sent them forward.

  “Oh, dear.” She stuck on her sunglasses and hoped they helped.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, do we look like we’ve just been havin’ sex?” She thought he did. There was a look about him, his hair on end and just a look, until he looked totally shocked at her question.

  Then he frowned. “We didn’t get that far.”

  Molly’s thoughts had gone on way ahead by then, though, and she told him to forget it and to honk when he passed the Hardee’s, because she was willing to bet that’s where Mama was.

  “See . . . there’s her car.” She waved and called, “Come on, Mama,” just as if her mother could hear her.

  * * * *

  They found Savannah perfectly composed and Stephen only slightly less so. Savannah was so confident that she was in the bathroom, fixing her hair. Yes, Stephen said to Tommy Lee’s terse question, they had called the doctor.

  “I’m not a complete idiot,” Stephen stated, as if reading Tommy Lee’s mind.

  Savannah said, “My contractions are twelve minutes apart—there’s plenty of time.”

  She had a contraction shortly after speaking, stood and held her belly, and breathed to Stephen, who counted. When the contraction passed, she took a deep, confident breath and told them all she was doing just fine. Then she focused Molly and Tommy Lee with a look and said, “Just where were you two last night, and why didn’t you tell us you were leavin’, Daddy?” She was totally pleased with her proper attitude. Tommy Lee blushed and told her not to be smart.

  Molly didn’t think Savannah was paying enough attention to just what was at hand. “Honey, this is your first baby. You can’t tell how things might go. I think we should hurry along here.”

  “We know, Mama. We’ve had classes.” So, in other words: Get out of our life. Savannah returned to curling her hair.

  Tommy Lee gave Molly a skeptical glance and then headed without a word back down the stairs, probably to get a Coca-Cola. Molly vaguely considered finding a cigarette from somewhere. Stephen went to put Savannah’s bags in his car, promising to return within the prescribed twelve minutes to meet her next contraction.

  In the face of all that calmness, Molly felt a little deflated. She wandered down to her and Tommy Lee’s bedroom, thinking about the night that she had awakened Tommy Lee and they had hurried to the hospital for Savannah’s delivery. The hurrying had been premature; Molly had been in labor twenty-four hours before Savannah decided to make an appearance. Savannah had been one to tarry all through her life, Molly thought, going on to remember how Tommy Lee had stood beside her the entire time. She wouldn’t let go of his hand. He’d been so long on his feet in one place that his knees had swollen to the size of cantaloupes.

  When Boone had been born, Tommy Lee had missed it because Boone had come in twenty horrible minutes in which Molly had barely made it to the hospital, and Tommy Lee had not made it at all. Colter had settled on having a nice predictable labor of four hours, and Tommy Lee had helped the doctor “catch,” as Tommy Lee had called it. Molly said she had had headaches worse than Colter’s delivery.

  In their bedroom, Molly went over and ran a finger across the dust atop the dresser. The photograph of herself and Tommy Lee was once again sitting in place, and seeing it brought a strong feeling to her chest. Sh
e ran her gaze around the room and then went over to make the bed, which appeared not to have been made since she had last done it. Finished, she ran her hand over the solid cherry wood bedpost, then looked at each of the pieces—furniture she and Tommy Lee had saved for and bought one at a time. It was all solid cherry wood, and someday the set would be handed down to one of the kids and on to the grandkids.

  Grandchildren . . . oh, my. With this thought, she lowered herself to the edge of the bed. It felt strange to think she was going to be a grandmother.

  Tommy Lee, holding a can of Coca-Cola, appeared in the doorway. Their eyes met and held. Slowly he came across the room, propped himself up on the pillows. Molly moved to lean against him. He handed her his Coke, and she took a swallow and handed it back. She felt his warmth through her clothes and caught his scent, so familiar, that of cologne and cotton and sunshine and male skin.

  “So, how are you with the grandmother thing?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m gettin’ use to it. I’ve figured out I’m not gonna be gettin’ a cane the minute the child pops out. How about you?”

  Tommy Lee gave a wry grin. “I guess I’m gettin’ use to it, too. I don’t think it would do any good to not get used to it.”

  They chuckled together at that. The sounds of Stephen and Savannah down the hall came to them, and they both stilled and listened. Then Tommy Lee’s arm came around Molly, and he pulled her back against him and nuzzled her neck. She savored the feeling.

  “Molly,” Tommy Lee whispered hoarsely into her ear, “I know I’ve taken you for granted . . . but you’ve always been there. I guess I just always feel like you will be. I can’t imagine my life without you, Molly. That’s how it is. Not neglect, but that you’re so much a part of my life that I just don’t even consider what it would be like without you there.”

  For an instant, her heartbeat stopped. Then she grabbed his hand and entwined her fingers into his calloused ones. His grip tightened on hers, holding her, willing her to him.

  “Sometimes . . . ," she said, her voice thick, “sometimes I need you so much that it scares me. And I know that my need scares you, and then I feel that something’s wrong with me.”

  In the silence that followed, she heard her heartbeat in her ears and felt his breathing against her back. She tried to hold her tears. She didn’t want to upset him, or make him feel obligated.

  Then he said, “I do get scared . . . because I’m afraid I can’t be what you need. That I’ll let you down. And I guess I get mad at you for putting me in that position.”

  “Oh, Tommy Lee.” She twisted and laid her face on his chest, rubbed her cheek against the smooth cotton of his shirt. “We’re goin’ to be married twenty-five years, and I would not trade a single day of those years. I wouldn’t even trade away the days we argued or the days we let each other down, either. Those times are what have made us grow into where we are today.”

  “Where are we, Molly?”

  “Well . . . I guess we’re here . . . with each other.” She lifted her head and gazed into his blue, blue eyes, and he gazed back.

  They each began to grin, and no words were necessary.

  An alarming cry from down the hall rent the moment. Molly and Tommy Lee looked at each other, and then jumped to their feet and raced down the hallway, Molly calling, “Savannah?”

  Savannah was bent over and gripping the side of the sink and sucking in great breaths. Molly went over and rubbed on her back, saying, “You’re doin’ fine, honey.”

  Tommy Lee hovered in the doorway, and Stephen came clamoring up the stairs and crowding beside him. Both of them looked in with helpless faces.

  “Oh. That was a surprise.” Still stunned, Savannah gave a shaky smile. “Gosh, I guess we’d better get goin’.”

  Stephen took her gingerly, helping her down the steps, while they said to each other, “We’re about to have our baby. . . . Oh, I love you, honey.”

  Molly told Tommy Lee, “Get out there and get the car goin’.”

  He looked startled, then hurried around Stephen and Savannah down the stairs.

  Molly pulled two sheets out of the linen closet and grabbed one of the baby blankets Rennie had bought, too.

  Savannah had another contraction on the back porch, one so strong that she cried out and sank to the floor. Stephen urged her to breathe, and she tried, then smiled weakly at him and said, “I’m okay,” and struggled to her feet.

  Molly’s mother, in her fuchsia robe, was just getting out of her car. Seeing her, Savannah perked up. “Oh, Grama! I’m havin’ the baby!” as if she were about to climb on a carousel horse and go for a ride.

  Tommy Lee ordered Stephen to put Savannah in the back of Mama’s Lincoln, which had just neatly blocked in all the other vehicles. Stephen balked for an instant, then gave in. As she got into the car, another great contraction took hold of Savannah, one so great that she groaned through gritted teeth until she could tell Stephen to shut up about breathing.

  Mama suggested that it might be a better idea to get Savannah back inside the house, but Stephen and Tommy Lee and Savannah, too, all said, “No!”

  Savannah added, “Get me to the hospital. . . . Oh, get me there, Daddy.”

  Her words were like the on button for Tommy Lee, who jumped in behind the wheel and started the engine, even while Molly was still helping Stephen and Mama to settle Savannah in with them in the backseat. Before Molly got her own door closed, Tommy Lee raced away up the drive, sending dust and gravel flying. He plowed right through the chickens in front of Eulalee Harris’s house, sending them every which way. He slowed only enough so as to not throw everyone around when he turned onto the state highway, and then he floored the accelerator. It seemed as if they were a plane zooming over the blacktop, passing every car they approached. Glancing over at him, Molly was startled to see Tommy Lee sitting relaxed, one elbow propped on the arm rest, while his fingers maneuvered the wheel.

  In the backseat, between some lighter contractions, Savannah told Stephen she was sorry for yelling at him and that she was doing fine, and then she immediately went into another hard contraction and alternately groaned and tried to breathe. Then she said, “Oh!”

  “Her water just broke,” Mama said, in the same tone that she would have said the sky is blue.

  And Stephen said, “Oh, God,” as if he might be sick.

  Molly stretched over into the backseat, passing one of the sheets to Mama and stroking Savannah’s head helplessly. She started to tell Tommy Lee to drive faster, but she thought they could not possibly go any faster. Savannah began having contractions one right after another, alternately groaning and praying.

  “How did I get into this?” she asked, whimpering. “Oh, Daddy, hurry. . . . Oh here comes another pain.”

  Stephen made a valiant effort at trying to get back on track with their birth training. “Breathe, honey, see, now pant. You can handle this contraction. Think contraction, honey, not pain.”

  Savannah yelled, “These are pains, Stephen! Why don’t you have a few and see?” The next minute, with panic, “It’s comin'. . . . The baby is comin’.”

  “Pull over, Tommy Lee,” Molly ordered.

  “No!” Stephen said, and he put his hands on Savannah’s stomach. “She isn’t. We’ll make it.”

  “Pull over,” Mama said in that tone and began tugging Savannah’s underpants off.

  Tommy Lee pulled over, and Stephen was saying, “Oh, God, oh, God,” and Mama told him to keep praying and told Savannah not to be frightened, in the same manner she would tell her not to comb her hair at the table.

  Molly looked over at Tommy Lee and said, “We’ve had three children, and Mama has had five. We should be able to handle this.”

  Tommy Lee clamped his jaw tight while Mama said from the backseat, “I was asleep during all my deliveries, Molly. But hasn’t Tommy Lee delivered cows?”

  Stephen said, “Cows?”

  Tommy Lee said, “Call the hospital emergency, Molly.”

 
Until that moment, Molly had forgotten all about the cellular phone Mama always kept lying in her front seat. While she dialed the emergency number, there was a quick debate about whether Savannah should lie on the backseat or get out of the car. Mama cut into it, saying she had a quilt in the trunk and for Tommy Lee to get it. With the phone to her ear, Molly instructed as to just where on the grass to spread the quilt.

  They got Savannah laid down and draped the remaining clean sheet over her bent knees. Stephen had another moment’s panic, where he stood back and almost fainted, but after one look at Tommy Lee, he came around and propped Savannah’s head in his lap and gripped her hand and tried to get her to remember her breathing. Mama produced bottled water and a handkerchief and went to wiping Savannah’s face while Tommy Lee and Molly crouched down to see what was going on with the baby. By then a medic had answered on the other end of the line, and Molly began telling her what was going on.

  “Oh . . . the head is showing,” Molly said. “Tommy Lee—there’s the head! Savannah, honey, your baby’s almost here.”

  Everything started going so fast. Savannah’s urge to push intensified, and the baby’s head got bigger and bigger. Excited, Molly told the voice on the phone to just hang on, and barely even realizing her actions, she tossed the telephone aside and reached for Savannah’s hand.

  Seeing the phone fly three feet, Tommy Lee felt fear grab him by the throat. This was his baby about to deliver a baby, and he was a bit embarrassed all the way around, too, but he didn’t have time to consider any of it because his daughter went to groaning and straining and Molly went to telling her to push all she wanted, and Tommy Lee saw the dark head getting bigger. The contraction ended, and the dark head receded. Tommy Lee told Stephen to hold Savannah up and help her with the next push, which came immediately, and the head came popping right out, which thoroughly shook Tommy Lee. The cord was looped at the baby’s neck.