Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Jesus Christ, Lily. How on earth do you find time to cook when you’re in the middle of moving?” Betty asked.

  After flipping the fried apple pie, I glanced back at Betty who sat at the kitchen table, smoking her ever-present cigarette and sipping a cup of coffee. As usual, she looked gorgeous in a trim, royal blue pantsuit, one that reminded me of pictures I’d seen of an airline stewardess’s uniform. For the past year, Betty had been letting her reddish-blond hair grow out, and now it was down past her shoulders, pulled up on the sides and fastened with tortoise-shelled combs, leaving the back flowing sleekly. It was a style that suited her, but then, I doubted Betty could look bad no matter how she wore her hair.

  I wiped my hands on my apron. “I’m trying to make something Debby Ann will eat,” I said. “By the time she’s up from her nap, these’ll be cool. And Mother’s fried apple pies is one of the few things she don’t throw her nose up at.” I slid the turner under one and lifted it a bit to see if it was browned. “If she don’t eat these, then I know something’s bad wrong with her.”

  “Well, if you ask me, you just worry too much. No, Davy! Don’t throw!”

  From the Linoleum floor near the refrigerator, the little boy looked up at his mother, an innocent expression on his round face. The block he’d just thrown with a pudgy hand had landed a few inches from Betty’s suede slip-on. She reached down to get it and handed it back to the little boy. “Now, play nice, or you’ll have to take a nap like little Debby.”

  Davy grinned at his mother and threw the block again. Betty shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’s like talking to a concrete wall.” She looked back at me. “So, what’s the problem, hon?”

  I slid the steaming apple pies onto a plate, sprinkled them with powdered sugar, then took off the apron protecting my jeans and draped it over a chair. Sitting down at the table across from Betty, I reached for my cup of coffee.

  “She just don’t look right to me. Haven’t you noticed how pale she always is? And lately it seems like all she wants to do is sleep. Yesterday afternoon, she slept for four solid hours. I had to wake her up for supper, and then she’d barely eat at all.”

  “When was her last check-up?”

  “In August. She’s due, I reckon.” I shook my head. “I keep meaning to make an appointment, but with trying to get all packed up for the move, and all…I just haven’t got around to it.”

  “Well, you better get to it. Once those discharge papers are signed…no more free medical care.”

  I sighed. “Don’t I know it? I’ll make the appointment first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Good.” Betty glanced over at the boxes stacked against one wall. “It looks like you’re getting a lot done. What I don’t understand, though, why are you doing the packing? Didn’t Jake tell you the Army will do that for you?”

  “Yeah, I know…but he wants me to get a head start on it. Lord, that boy is so anxious to get back to Russell County, he’s got me as busy as a stump-tailed cow in fly time!”

  Betty almost choked on her cigarette, and then burst out laughing. “God, I’m going to miss you, girl! No one can turn a phrase quite like you do.” Her grin faded, and a sad look came into her blue eyes. “I still can’t believe you can’t make him see reason.”

  I frowned. “I know. But that’s Jake. He gets his mind set on something, and God Himself won’t get him to budge. I’m just sick about going back to Kentucky.”

  Betty’s lips quirked. “Hard to believe this is the same girl talking that was so homesick when she first got here.”

  “Well, it’s not like I don’t want to go home and see everybody. I just don’t want to go back to the kind of life we had before Jake enlisted. Besides…” I nibbled on a hangnail on my thumb. “I like being out in the real world, you know. And I want to see more of it.”

  “Too bad Jake can’t change assignments with Eddie.” Betty’s gaze fastened on the plate of cooling apple pies on the counter. “Those look scrumptious. Are they cool enough to eat yet?”

  I grinned and got up to get her one. “Probably not, but I’ll let you decide.” I transferred one of the pies to another plate and put it down in front of her. “Lord A-mighty, Betty Kelly, how can you not want to go to Germany?”

  She raised a slim, arched eyebrow. “Because it’s goddamn cold there, that’s why. I’m a Californian, remember? I’ve got thin blood. And here we are, being transferred to Heidelberg in the middle of December, for God’s sake! When does it start getting warm in Germany? July?” She cut into the apple pie and gingerly slid a bite into her mouth. “Oooooh! Too hot…too hot…” She fanned her mouth with a hand, then swallowed. “But delicious! Have I told you how much I’m going to miss your cooking?”

  Her compliment brought tears to my eyes. I got up from the table again, this time on the pretense of refilling our coffee cups, even though we’d already had two cups each. But I didn’t want Betty to see how her words had moved me. I knew it was more than my cooking that Betty would miss. In the almost two years we’d been next-door neighbors, we’d become as close as I’d been with my girlfriends in high school. It just killed me to think we’d be going our separate ways this time next week.

  As I reached for the coffee pot, the phone rang from the living room. “I’ll be right back,” I said, heading toward the door. It was on the third ring when I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Lily Rae, it’s me.” Jake’s voice sounded rushed. “Hey, the boys are takin’ me out tonight...sort of a going-away party. So, don’t wait up for me, okay?”

  My hand tightened on the receiver. “But Jake…I was gonna fry up a chicken. It’s already thawed out and everything.”

  “You can fry it tomorrow night,” he replied, sounding irritated. “The boys already planned this, and I ain’t gonna disappoint them. Anyhow, it’ll be a late night. Gotta go.” Before I could say a word, the phone went dead. I sighed and placed the receiver in its cradle on the end table.

  “What’s wrong?” Betty asked when I stepped back into the kitchen. “You look like…how did you put it last week? A mule eating briars?”

  I released an exasperated breath and plopped back into my chair. “Jake! He’s going out with the boys’ tonight. Told me not to wait up.”

  Betty licked her index finger, pressed it onto a bit of powdered sugar on her empty plate and slid it into her mouth. “Well, you’ll just have to come over and have dinner with us, then. If you don’t mind having Vienna sausages and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, anyway.”

  “Why don’t ya’all come on over here? I can fry up the chicken I’ve got thawed out.”

  Betty grinned and sat up straight. “Hey, I have a better idea. Let’s get Merline to come over and watch the kids, and I’ll get Eddie to take us out for dinner. It’s about time both of us had a night out, don’t you think? We’ll have our own going-away party.”

  “But the chicken,” I protested. “I already…”

  “Yeah, I know. Thawed it out. The devil take the damn chicken, Lily. We’re going out tonight, and that’s final!”

  ***

  I wasn’t at all surprised to find the apartment empty when I stepped inside with a whining Debby Ann just after midnight. When Jake said he’d be late, he meant late. Still, I couldn’t help but be disappointed—and a little put out—that he was still out honky-tonking.

  Debby Ann was already in her Bugs Bunny pajamas so all I had to do was put her into the crib. By the time I tucked the soft pink blanket around her small body, she was asleep, her thumb plugged into her mouth. Alarmed, I stared down at her. Something was definitely wrong here.

  She’d been sleeping when I’d taken her over to the Kelly’s this evening; she’d been sleeping when we returned from dinner. On Betty’s insistence, I’d stayed for several hours, listening to records on their brand new hi-fi while Eddie and Betty taught me how to play Pinochle. And Debby Ann had slept through it all.

  Gazing down at her, I touched
a finger to her petal-soft, white cheek-- so pale it could’ve belonged to a china doll. “What’s wrong with you, baby girl?” I whispered, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

  Forget making an appointment! I’d take her into the emergency room first thing in the morning. If I had the car, I’d do it right now. But then…

  I brushed a hand through her golden curls—so like little Charles Alton’s—and felt her forehead. Cool. This made me feel a little better. If the baby was really sick, like Charles Alton had been, wouldn’t she be feverish?

  Assuring myself this was so, I turned away from the crib and began to unbutton my knit dress, another Betty hand-me-down. I slipped out of it and carefully hung it on a hanger, sliding a hand down its soft, ribbed bodice. Such a pretty color of turquoise. Betty must’ve spent a fortune on it, if the fancy California department store label was any indication.

  Would there ever be a day when I could walk into an I Magnin and buy a dress like this? My lips curled at the thought as I perched on the stool in front of the dressing table and reached for my brush.

  Yeah, that would happen. With Jake getting out of the service and us moving back to Kentucky, I’d be lucky to be able to walk into Grider’s Drugstore and buy a bottle of Evening in Paris.

  I sighed and began to brush out my hair. This time next week, I’d probably be back sitting in Gladys Tatlow’s living room, watching a snowy TV and listening to old man Royce snoring in his chair by the woodstove.

  Tears blurred my vision at the thought. It just wasn’t fair that I had to go back to Russell County and live under Gladys’s roof…no, it was worse than that. I’d be living under her blame thumb! No cooking my own meals anymore, no taking pride in cleaning my own house…and what would it be like with Debby Ann there? Just those few days we’d spent at the Tatlows’ over Christmas last year had demonstrated that my mother-in-law had some strong opinions on child-rearing and not a bit of compunction in expressing every one of them. I’d just gritted my teeth and smiled politely, knowing I’d soon be back in Texas and doing exactly what I saw fit. But there would be no grinning and bearing it once I had to do it on a daily basis. I’d up and die first.

  I gently placed my brush on the dressing table and gazed into the mirror, seeing an attractive, dark-haired woman wearing a full-length white slip, her brown eyes watery and mournful, her still girlishly round cheeks wet with tears. I was only 20 years old…had my whole life ahead of me.

  And I was going back to Russell County, Kentucky, where I’d live with my in-laws, probably spit out a baby every year like clockwork, and grow old before my time just like Mother and Gladys Tatlow had…like just about every woman did down there in the sticks. It was my destiny, I supposed. What had made me think I’d escape it?

  I dropped my face into my hands and burst into sobs.

  Lord, I’d rather die than live a life like that. Even as I sobbed my heart out, I knew that wasn’t true. In fact, in a secret place in my heart, I had to admit a tiny part of me was looking forward to going home.

  I’d grown up so much since that cold January day I’d left Kentucky, pregnant with Debby Ann, and clinging to Jake as if he were a life-buoy keeping me afloat as I drifted out to sea. I would return home a different person—a sophisticated and worldly lady, thanks to Betty’s influence. Why, everybody in Russell Springs would sit up and take notice. I could just imagine the faces of Katydid and Daisy. They’d be so impressed at the change in me.

  And Chad. I caught my breath in mid-sob and slowly lifted my head. Lord, if Pat-Peaches looked half as bad as she had in the drugstore the Christmas of ’52, Chad would take one look at me and wish he could turn back time.

  Sniffling, I grabbed a tissue out of the Kleenex box on the dressing table and dabbed at the smudged mascara under my eyes. Going home wouldn’t be all bad, I reckoned. One thing was for sure. If Royce Tatlow gave me any grief—about anything!—I’d tell him to stick it where the sun don’t shine! Gladys, too. Them two was going to find out that the scared little wallflower they’d bossed around two years ago had grown into a tiger-lily with claws that could draw blood if need be.

  And of course, it would be nice to be back home with Mother and Papa and Norry and Edsel and Landry. I’d never heard much from the boys but every week, a letter had arrived from Norry, so regular you could set your clock by it. Lord, that girl had probably grown like a weed since I left. After all, she’d turned ten back in July.

  A noise from the living room drew my attention. It was the jangle of keys followed by the sound of the front door opening. Relief flooded through me. I grabbed the brush, ran it through my hair once more and got up from the stool. I really hadn’t expected Jake to be home before the wee hours, but I was glad he was.

  “Oh, honey, I’m glad you weren’t out too late,” I called out, hurrying into the hallway to meet him. “I really think we need to take Debby Ann to the doctor tomorrow. She’s just not…” My voice died away as I stepped into the living room.

  Jake stood swaying just inside the front door, a drunken grin on his face, a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand--and a harlot in the other.

  “Well, there’s my purty little wife,” Jake said, his grin widening. “Lily Rae, this here’s Lou Ellen.” He nudged his bottle at the harlot. “I figgered she could give you a love lesson on how to please your man.”

  ***

  When I stepped back into the living room with the butcher knife in my trembling hand, I saw what was happening in a blur—the harlot on her knees in front of Jake…my husband cradling her head, his eyes rolling back with passion.

  “You lowdown good-for-nothin’ bastard,” I said with icy calm. I marched over to them and grabbed a handful of the woman’s hairspray-stiff bottle-blonde hair and yanked with all my might. “Get your filthy mouth off my husband, woman!”

  “Ouch!” The woman shrieked, tumbling onto the floor at Jake’s feet. “Son of a bitch! That hurt!”

  I glared at her. “It was meant to hurt. Now, get the hell out of my home before I use this here knife to scalp you bald as an Injun!” I didn’t wait to see if the woman would take me at my word, but turned my attention to my low-life husband who was gaping at me like I was an escapee from the loony bin. “And you, you disgusting piece of dog-shit, get yourself and your filthy little ding-dong out of my house or I swear to God Almighty, I’ll cut it off at the root and feed it to the pigs out on Rt. 82!” To emphasize my words, I thrust the butcher knife at his exposed penis. He flinched and quickly pushed it back into his pants and zipped up.

  “Now, Lily,” he said, a wary look on his lean, handsome face. “Don’t go all batty on me. I was just kiddin’ around.”

  I took a step closer, moving the knife in threatening little circles, and stared him in the eye. “You dare to tell me you’re just kiddin’ around? That whore had your goddamn penis in her mouth! Now, I mean what I say, Jake. Get the hell out of my house! And don’t come back, you hear me? It’s over!”

  Even though he was still drunk, my words apparently penetrated into his beer-pickled brain. His slack face took on an expression of fear and remorse. “Come on, I…”

  “No!” I cut him off. “I mean it this time, Jake. I’ve had enough! You don’t love me. I don’t think you ever did! A man who loves his wife don’t bring a tramp home to give her ‘love lessons.’” I flicked a glance toward the harlot, and saw that she was gone. Apparently, she’d realized I meant business. “Now, get on out of here. Go find your little whore and finish what she started. I don’t care anymore!”

  He extended a placating hand. “Lily Rae, you don’t mean that…”

  The nausea I’d felt earlier threatened to engulf me. With as much strength as I could muster, I stepped closer to my husband and positioned the knife just beneath his jaw.

  “You care to make a wager on that?” I whispered, my gaze holding his. “I’ve never in my life been as mad as I am right now, Jake Tatlow. A little slip of this here knife and you’ll be pumping blood all over the fl
oor. And you know what? Even a Texas court won’t put me away when they find out what happened here tonight.”

  For a long moment, we stared at each other. Seconds ticked by. Finally, Jake swallowed hard and backed away. Relief swept through me. Despite everything, I hadn’t wanted to kill him, but if he’d touched me…I knew I would’ve done it. I’d never felt rage like this. Never thought it was possible to feel rage like this.

  He waited until he stepped out into corridor before summoning his courage. Straightening his shoulders—as well as he could with being dead dog-drunk, he pasted a half-assed sneer on his face. “Well, fine, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes! If that’s the way you want it, fine! You go on and file for divorce. You just go right ahead.” His eyes blazed. “I’ll find me a wife who knows how to please her man! Who’s not so damn persnickety that she can’t perform oral sex on her own blame husband. Well, fuck you, Lily Rae. Fuck you!”

  I slammed the door in his face and locked it. I heard him shuffle off down the hall, still screaming “fuck you” at the top of his lungs.

  I crumpled to the floor, my hands covering my ears to block out his shouting. Rocking back and forth, I released the sobs that had been held tight in my chest since the moment he’d walked into the apartment with that tramp in his arms.

  A pounding came at the door, and I stiffened, thinking he’d returned, and this time, I’d really have to kill him.

  “Lily! It’s Betty. Open up!”

  I tried to get to my feet, but my legs were trembling so badly, they refused to work. “Betty, I…” My voice came out ragged and weak.

  “Lily!” Betty’s voice rose in alarm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, and tried again to stand. This time I was successful, but it took me a moment as I fumbled at the lock.

  “Lily, goddamn it! Answer me!” Panic rang in Betty’s voice. “What the hell did he do to you?”