Face the Winter Naked

by Bonnie Turner

"Take off your clothes," Daniel said. "Nobody around to see you naked, and I've seen boys before."

  "Why should I?"

  "Because I say so. If you're coming with me, you're having a bath to get the bugs off."

  "I don't have bugs."

  "How do you know?"

  "I just do. I ain't scratching. I'd know if I had any."

  "You might. But some bugs are sneaky little sonofaguns, so you're getting a bath just in case."

  He reached in the gunnysack for the sliver of soap as Chris pulled off his shirt and pants. He wore no underwear, but Daniel had an extra pair. They were holey and too big, but a boy needs underwear.

  He helped Chris into the cold water as a couple of heifers leaned over the fence.

  "I'm freezing," Chris said. "You got soap?"

  Daniel handed him the bar. "Go easy, it's all I have." He looked at the cows and smiled. "Hope you ladies don't mind drinking soapy water. Can't be helped."

  "I'm getting warm now," Chris said.

  "Wash your hair good. Want me to soap it up?"

  "I can do it myself."

  Chris scrubbed his long hair with the bar of Lava, building up the suds. Then he tossed the soap to Daniel and ducked his head under the water. He came up sputtering and shaking his head like a dog. After a minute he climbed out of the trough and stared at the cows.

  "What the heck they staring at? Guess they never seen a naked kid before."

  Daniel laughed. "Never seen one take a bath in their drinking water, either." He found the extra underwear in his bag. "Here. You can wear these. We'll just dunk your dirty clothes in the water and spread 'em on the ground. They'll be dry by morning."

  Chris pulled on the shorts. "Got some rope? These are miles too big."

  "Nope, I don't. Wait, maybe I have something else."

  He reached in his bag and pulled out two banjo strings, twisted the ends together with his pliers and tied the result around the boy's waist.

  "There ya go. They'll keep your pants up and play a tune while they're at it." Daniel looked at his handiwork again. "I'll try to find something to wrap around the wires so you won't get scratched."

  Chris rolled his eyes. "If you had something to wrap it with, I wouldn't need the wires."

  "True enough."

  Chris grinned. "Guess you know how to do lots of stuff."

  "When a man's bumming around, he learns how to survive." Daniel unfastened one of his overalls' straps. "See this here? I lost the buckle, so I found me this big ol' cocklebur and stuck it on. Works just fine."

  He rinsed Chris's filthy pants and shirt in the trough, rung them out, and spread them over the fence.

  The sun was slowly sinking in the west. Daniel sat with his companion for a while, then stood.

  "Can you excuse me for a little bit? I have to go someplace."

  "Where?"

  "Have to see a man. You wouldn't understand."

  "Not my ol' man, is it?"

  "Someone else."

  "Okay."

  "Watch my things," Daniel said. "I trust you not to walk off with them, and you won't if you know what's good for you."

  Chris's eyes drooped with sleep.

  "I won't be long," Daniel said. "Just stay right here where I can find you." He grinned. "Hope I recognize you with the dirt off."

  He left the boy with the gunnysack and banjo and walked back uptown to St. Louis Street. Millie's Diner was still open.

  Glenn recognized him and came over.

  "Coffee?"

  "Sounds good." Daniel counted out some change and laid it on the counter. "I found a stray kid, or he found me, I guess. About yay high." He held his hand out to the side. "Dark hair, shaggy and long. Real dirty."

  He picked up his cup and drank. The coffee was too strong and tasted of chicory.

  "Wonder if you know him. He was hungry, so maybe he came by here." He waited expectantly.

  "That's Chris Davis." Glenn untied his apron and folded it neatly.

  "Know where he lives?"

  "Everybody knows Chris."

  "What about his folks? He said they don't want him."

  Glenn laid the folded apron on the counter.

  "Wouldn't surprise me. Good for nothing scum, that bunch. Six more kids they don't want. Probably another one on the way. Some folks don't know when to stop."

  "Or what causes them, either."

  "Millie and I fed Chris sometimes," Glenn said. "But I don't trust him. You shouldn't, either. He'll steal everything you got."

  Daniel laughed. "He already tried that." He finished the coffee and chewed some grounds from the bottom of the cup, then pushed the coins over, rose and touched his brim. "Well, much obliged. I'll go see those folks in the morning."

  "I wouldn't."

  "Chris wants to go north with me," Daniel said. "I'd feel like a kidnapper if I didn't get permission. Getting picked up for kidnapping's all I need right now. Besides, someone has to look out for him. He's too young to be on his own. If nothing else, the court can find him a foster home till he grows up some more."

  Glenn shook his head. "I doubt his family would miss him."

  "It's worth a try." Daniel went to the door then turned back. "Another thing—"

  "Yes?"

  "I hate to say this, but he picked my pocket and blamed it on you."

  "I'm not surprised at that, either," Glenn said. "Not the first time someone did." He took a set of keys from a nail and walked Daniel to the door. "I'm closing up now. Good luck with the kid."

  "Thanks. I'll try to talk to his folks. If they don't care, I'll let him tag along for company. Know where I can find him a pair of shoes?"

  "There's a cobbler a few doors down. He might have an old pair he doesn't want."

  Daniel found the shoe shop still open. The smell of leather and shoe wax reminded him of the shoe-shine parlor back home on the Square, across from the courthouse. He picked out a pair of secondhand brown shoes the proprietor said someone had failed to pick up last year. Daniel was welcome to them free of charge, just to get them off his hands.

  A few minutes later, he went back to where he'd left Chris and his belongings. The gunnysack and banjo were right where he'd left them, but Chris and his wet laundry were nowhere to be found. Maybe he'd gone to pick some pockets before bedtime. Damn his little hide.

  He placed the shoes beside the sack and sat down to wait, and promptly fell asleep.

  Before dawn, a bawling cow brought him to his feet. He looked around, saw the Jersey's big, brown eyes staring at him.

  "Which way did he go?" he asked her.

  Chapter 18

  LaDaisy heard Saul's voice and thought she was dreaming. She lay in a stupor for the next hour, with Mary sleeping on her arm. And when the next voice she heard was her mother's, she opened her eyes.

  "What's wrong, LaDaisy?"

  She tried to speak, but her words were thick and slurred.

  Vera tried again.

  "Saul came to tell me you were sick. He nearly did himself in walking across town in this heat. He wouldn't have done that unless he thought you were dying." She leaned down and looked in her daughter's eyes. "My Lord, girl, you look terrible. Have you been drinking?"

  "Mama, no." She tried to sit up. "So sick. Take Mary."

  Vera picked up her granddaughter. "She's soaked. When did you change her diaper last? You both smell."

  "Sorry."

  Mary awoke and began crying as Vera rocked her back and forth.

  "Oh dear, I don't know what she wants. Is she hungry?"

  LaDaisy lay back down and rolled her head from side to side. Her brain hurt so much she thought it would explode. Her underpants were wet, probably urine from straining when she puked. She wouldn't know for sure what it was till she could check, and she couldn't with her mother standing there.

  "No," she said. "She just nursed."

  Vera changed Mary's wet clothes. "So small," she said, picking her up again. "I worry about this one, LaDaisy. You never should've h
ad another baby."

  LaDaisy closed her eyes and ears.

  "Shut up, Mother."

  "Don't talk to me that way. If she's not hungry, then she's unhappy. I'll go make her a sugar tit, and when I come back, you'll tell me what's wrong. If you need a doctor, I'll see you get one."

  She left the room, and LaDaisy managed to sit up on the side of the bed. Her head swam as she got up and followed her mother.

  She stood in the kitchen doorway as Vera took a clean dishrag from the drawer, put a dab of lard in the center, and sprinkled on some sugar. She rocked the fussy child in one arm and gathered up the cloth with one hand, twisted it into a ball around the lard and offered it to Mary. Mary seized the sugar tit eagerly, and was soon dozing again.

  "Thank you," LaDaisy said.

  "I hated to use plain lard, but I couldn't find any butter."

  "Butter doesn't last long in this house."

  "Oh well, she seems satisfied with this. She just wanted comforting." Vera observed LaDaisy carefully. "But a sugar tit won't help you. How long have you been this way?"

  LaDaisy filled a jelly glass with water from the bucket, swallowed a few drops and set it down on the cabinet. Her mouth was so dry, but would anything ever taste right again after the bitterness of quinine?

  "A few hours," she said.

  She started back to the bedroom and noticed Saul in the front room rocker. He rose and came over, gently touched her shoulder.

  "Are you okay, LaDaisy? I brought your mother. I didn't know what to do."

  "Thank you, Saul." She patted his hand, fighting back tears. "You did the right thing. I'll be fine."

  "Well, I'll go out back and attack them weeds now." He paused at the door. "Then I'll go tell Bernie to keep the kids another night. No sense in them getting whatever you got."

  "What I have isn't contagious," she said.

  After he left, she went back to the bedroom without checking to see what the stickiness was. If abortion fluids, they'd probably come out in a flood. She sat down on the bed.

  Vera followed her and settled Mary in the cradle. She glanced at LaDaisy.

  "Feeling better?"

  "Some. Not as dizzy, but still queasy."

  "What brought this on? Did you catch something?"

  "No."

  "This room smells like vomit."

  "I puked."

  She could only imagine what was going through Vera's mind. Upset stomachs and throwing up. Morning sickness. Pregnancy. Has she guessed?

  Vera sat down next to her.

  "I left a note for Ida. She went to the doctor. She's having cramps, but still has a month to go."

  LaDaisy nodded. "I know she's been uncomfortable, and with the weather so hot."

  "It takes a woman to know what another one's going through at a time like this."

  LaDaisy's heart softened toward her sister. Both were grown-up women now, and women shared the miseries of pregnancy and childbirth.

  "She'll be okay, Mama."

  "I hope so. Maybe she'll stop by here before going home."

  LaDaisy thought of the red coupe. "Is she driving herself?"

  "I believe so. I worry about that girl. She shouldn't be gallivanting all over town at a time like this."

  LaDaisy got up and found the key to Daniel's closet.

  "She'll be fine, Mama. Babies don't come so fast. Remember when Wayne was born? Three days. I thought I was dying."

  "Well, that was you," Vera said. "Ida might not take so long, at least I hope she doesn't." She smiled as LaDaisy unlocked the closet and opened the door. "I can't wait to get my hands on that baby."

  LaDaisy removed the bottle from the closet shelf and turned to her mother.

  "She'd be better off not to have Clay's baby."

  "What?"

  "Anybody's but his."

  "Well, I never. Surely you don't mean that."

  LaDaisy looked in on Mary, who now slept peacefully. She wished she could relive this day. Wished she'd made a different decision. She looked at the half-filled bottle of quinine and felt like throwing up again.

  "This isn't like you," Vera said. "I know you haven't always gotten along with your sister, but—"

  LaDaisy turned and glared at her mother. "I do mean it. I'd give anything if she wasn't having his baby."

  "But why?"

  "Why indeed." LaDaisy thrust out the bottle to Vera.

  "What's this?"

  "It's poison, if you take too much."

  "Wh—?"

  "Quinine."

  Shock registered on Vera's face and she rose shakily. She turned the bottle around in her hand, staring at it. "Why would you—what's this got to do with Ida? Where did you get it? Are you saying you took quinine and it made you sick?"

  "Exactly."

  "They treat fevers and malaria with this. You're not saying you've got malaria. How could you?"

  "No, I don't have malaria."

  "Then what? I know some women have taken it to ... oh no." She shoved the bottle back at LaDaisy.

  "Women take it to abort unwanted pregnancies," LaDaisy said. "I've heard it works sometimes. But sometimes not."

  She waited for Vera to speak. When she didn't, she replaced the bottle on the shelf and locked the closet. The sound of a car out front caught their attention, and they hurried to the other room.

  "There's Ida Mae now," LaDaisy said. "I see Clay brought her after all."

  She breathed a sigh of relief as Ida Mae climbed out of the auto and Clay backed it into the street.

  Ida opened the screen door and came inside. Her face was puffy and she looked miserable.

  "Sit down, Ida. We were just talking about you."

  Vera frowned at LaDaisy and shook her head.

  "I told your sister you went to the doctor," she said to Ida. "What did he say? I thought you were driving."

  "I was going to, but Clay said he'd drop me off. I can ride back with you." Ida Mae turned to LaDaisy. "So you've been sick? What seems to be the matter?"

  Before LaDaisy could reply, Vera cut in.

  "Do tell us what the doctor said, Ida."

  "He said I'm big and fat and shouldn't eat so much, or I'll have a baby elephant."

  LaDaisy snorted and sat in the rocker as Ida Mae took a seat next to her mother on the davenport.

  "A lot men doctors know. First time one gets pregnant, he'll change his tune. How much longer does he think you have?"

  "He thinks I'm farther along than he realized. Maybe he miscalculated, I don't know. The baby can come any time."

  "I see."

  Ida's brows shot up. "You see? Is that all you have to say? You don't sound very excited for someone who's about to become an aunt. But if you can deliver babies, I can do likewise." She pouted. "Don't you want to be an auntie?"

  "Not really."

  "Oh for God's sake, LaDaisy," Vera said. "Leave her alone."

  "You both want to know what made me sick?"

  Vera shifted her eyes toward Ida.

  "Yes," Ida Mae said, "tell us what happened. One day you're fine. The next day your father-in-law hikes across town because you're dying. Obviously, you didn't die."

  "I took poison."

  "Hush!" Vera said. "This isn't the time or place, LaDaisy."

  Ida lay a hand on her mother's arm. "No, Mama, let her talk." She turned back to LaDaisy, her eyes big, bright, and curious. "You don't mean you really took poison. You'd be ... you'd be dead. What kind?"

  "No!" Vera jumped off the davenport and marched up to LaDaisy. "Don't you dare."

  She knows.

  LaDaisy ignored her mother and addressed her sister. "Clay should've come in with you, Ida. Do you know why he didn't?"

  "He said he'd come another time. He needs to pick up the rent anyway."

  Tears pooled in LaDaisy's eyes. The back door slammed, and she could see Saul in the kitchen drinking from the dipper. She waited for him to leave, then turned her attention to Ida.

  "I already paid the rent." The
tears broke loose and spurted out.

  "What do you mean?"

  LaDaisy's lower lip quivered. She had to make Ida Mae realize what kind of man she'd married. She wanted to lash out and hurt somebody.

  Vera came over and shook a finger in her face.

  "Stop it this minute, LaDaisy. You're talking crazy."

  "La Lazy, La Crazy. I've been called that all my life. Behind my back and to my face." She tossed her head and laughed with tears streaming down her face. "What kind of poison, Ida? Well, not really poison. Just quinine. You know what quinine does, don't you?"

  Ida stared at her. "Are you saying you ... I know quinine can cause miscarriages, and sometimes abortions. But Daniel's gone. Surely you couldn't be that way. How?"

  Vera grabbed Ida's arm.

  "Let's go home, dear. You can see she's not thinking straight." Mary let out a wail from the bedroom. "Now see what happened."

  Ida brushed her mother's hand away. "No, I'm not leaving yet."

  LaDaisy's face flooded. "I don't want to tell you!"

  "Tell me what?"

  Vera left them to attend Mary.

  "I paid the rent, Ida." LaDaisy felt like throwing up again. "I paid your husband his rent. I don't owe the bastard another goddam cent. You tell him if he comes here again—"

  She turned and ran to the bedroom, relieved her mother of Mary, and sobbed into the baby's hair.

  "You have some explaining to do," Vera said. "You're hysterical."

  "Go away, Mama. Take Ida Mae and—and just go the hell home."

  "What you did is unforgivable." Vera lowered her voice. "To think while your sister's burdened with her pregnancy, you had an affair with her husband. How despicable of you."

  "Just leave."

  "Someday you'll pay for what you've done."

  LaDaisy held her child tightly and scrunched her face up.

  "Oh Mama! For once, will you listen to me? Do you think I wanted him to rip my insides out? I should've known you'd blame me."

  "But I don't—" There was something in Vera's voice, and a hint of shock on her face, as if she suddenly grasped the situation, but didn't fully believe it. She reached for LaDaisy, then hastily drew her hand back. "What am I going to tell Ida? This will destroy her."

  LaDaisy silently pleaded for her mother to show some real concern, some glimmer of understanding of the shame Clay had brought to their family. But there was none forthcoming.