Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

  Jake swallowed hard and gazed down at his daughter. “I reckon I do, Debby Ann. Inside…where you can’t see it.”

  My throat had tightened. And I felt my heart thawing. I tried to stop it by summoning Betty’s voice to my mind. Don’t let him talk you into staying, Lily. You need to get that man out of your life.

  “Debby Ann got boo-boo hurt, too. See?” She stuck out her tiny arm and pointed to the tape-covered cotton ball on the inside of her elbow where the I.V. needle had been inserted. Then she looked up at her father with solemn brown eyes. “It feel better, Daddy. Boo-boo hurt go away.”

  Jake swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. Then he nodded. “Yeah, your boo-boo hurt will go away. But I’m not so sure about mine.” He turned his gaze back to me. “I reckon we can file for divorce here or…if you want to move back home, we can do it there. Up to you.”

  The word shook me to my core. Divorce. It wasn’t as if this was the first time it had been said out loud. That’s all Betty had been talking about this morning. And it had been reverberating in my mind since I’d started considering it. But to hear Jake say it out loud made it so…final.

  I studied him. After a moment, I walked over to the couch and sat down on the other end of it, leaving a large gap of space between us.

  “Jake, do you love me?” I said quietly. “Because sometimes…most of the time…it don’t…doesn’t feel like you do.”

  Jake closed his eyes and shook his head. I’d never seen him so vulnerable-looking. “I’ve always loved you,” he whispered.

  I sat quietly, unable to find an adequate response.

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. There it was again—that wounded look. “I know that’s not enough. You deserve a man who can give you more than that. And I know if I let you go, it won’t take you long to find one. You got so much to offer, Lily Rae.”

  My heart skipped a beat and my throat went dry. “Is that what you want, Jake? A divorce?”

  He stared at me a long moment, then nodded. “I want that for you. Because I know I can’t make you happy. But for me?” He shook his head slowly. “The selfish bastard that I am wants you to stay. Because the selfish bastard that I am knows if you walk out, Lily Rae, I’ll lose the best thing that ever happened to me.” His voice choked, and he turned away, blinking back fresh tears.

  Despite everything, my heart ached for him. Silence fell between us. Even Debby Ann seemed to sense the tension in the air. She looked up at her father and then turned her wide brown eyes to me.

  It seemed she, too, was waiting for my answer.

  Gladys’s Blue Ribbon Peach Cobbler

  6 ripe peaches, poached and sliced

  1 - ½ cup sugar, divided

  ½ cup butter (do not substitute margarine)

  1 cup self-rising flour

  ½ cup milk

  Combine sliced peaches with ½ cup sugar and ¼ cup water. Bring to boil, and simmer for 20 minutes. Melt butter in 13x9” pan in oven at 350. Mix together remaining sugar, flour and milk. Pour batter over melted butter. (Do not spread.) Spoon peaches and juice over batter. Bake 30-45 minutes until golden brown. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  December 1954

  “Come on, Mommy! Debby Ann hungee!”

  Running as fast as her little legs could carry her, Debby darted through the woods in front of me, stumbling twice over fallen tree branches blocking the path.

  “Debby Ann, you’d better slow down, girl, or you’re gonna land flat on your face,” I warned, picking my way carefully through rotting leaves and other decades of debris from trees felled by lightning and wind. It was clear in the two years I’d been away that no one had used the trail that connected the Tatlow’s to my family home.

  Debby Ann stopped in the middle of the path, turned around, placed her hands firmly on her tiny hips and glared at me. “Mommy! I hungee, I said!”

  “Don’t you sass me, you little pipsqueak.” I gave her a stern look even as I tried to hide an amused smile. That blood they’d given her back in Texarkana must’ve been full of orneriness; Debby Ann was like a different little girl these days, and it wasn’t just her uncommonly big appetite that had changed. She’d become a bossy little squirt since we’d come back to Kentucky—probably the result of having two sets of grandparents waiting on her hand and foot and giving in to her every whim like she was Queen of Sheba or something.

  “I don’t know how in the world you could be hungry again. Didn’t you have two bowls of soup beans and cornbread and butterscotch pie at Mother’s house?”

  Debby didn’t bother to answer. She was already off and running through the woods again, the fluffy white ball on her red-striped knit cap bobbing behind her. Two bowls of soup beans! Lordy, that gal was probably tootin’ all the way home.

  I hoped to heaven she was all done by bed-time; when we’d first arrived at the Tatlow’s, we’d figured Debby Ann could sleep in Meg’s old bed across from Inis, but the little brat would have none of it. She’d screamed her head off until a disgruntled Gladys had moved an old army cot into our room for her, and that’s where she’d been sleeping ever since, the little tyrant! It had been weeks since me and Jake had had any…privacy. No wonder he’d been going to the pool hall in town after supper two or three nights a week. I couldn’t really blame him for that, could I?

  I shook my head and followed after Debby Ann. My tennis shoe sank into a soft spot in the ground, muddying a quarter-inch of the white canvas, and I muttered one of Betty’s favorite curse words. Last night’s rain had been a drencher.

  It had been a mild winter so far in Kentucky; at least that was what everybody was saying. Here it was, mid-December, and folks said there’d been only one good frost back in late October. Since we’d arrived back in Russell County three weeks ago, the weather had been pleasant with just a few soaking rainfalls like last night’s. But on the walk over to Mother’s this morning, I’d seen a black woolyworm with a half-inch thick coat—a sure sign of a bad winter to come. And according to Daddy, the Farmer’s Almanac said the same thing. Lord help me! If I had to stay cooped up in the Tatlow’s little house with Gladys and Royce all winter, I just might murder somebody.

  Up ahead, Debby Ann reached the clearing that marked the boundary of the Tatlow’s property. I could hear her high-pitched cry of delight as she caught sight of Hero, a scrawny black mutt that had replaced Bandit, the old three-legged dog that had finally died after years of mistreatment from his owners. It had been mutual love at first sight for Debby Ann and Hero from the beginning. And hate at first sight for me and that blasted dog.

  The thick, homey fragrance of wood smoke carried on the afternoon breeze, a scent that would always and forever remind me of Kentucky, no matter where I ended up living. I reached the clearing and saw the mongrel sitting on his haunches, staring longingly at the back door of the house. So…Debby Ann had already gone inside. I quickened my pace. I knew exactly what was going to happen if I didn’t get in there lickety-split.

  Hearing my approach, the dog turned, saw me and began to bark like he thought I was a mad-dog killer intent on slaughtering the family. I sighed. It was clear he, like Gladys and Royce, still considered me an outsider.

  “Aw, shut your yapping,” I growled as the mutt ran up to me, barking his fool head off. “So help me, sometimes I’d like to knock you to Kingdom-come.”

  I wouldn’t, of course. Poor dog probably had enough abuse from his new family. I was usually fond of any animal, but God’s truth, this one sure annoyed the heck out of me.

  I skirted the barking dog and climbed the rickety steps of the back porch. Slamming the screen door in Hero’s face, I stepped through the pantry area lined with shelves holding jars of Gladys’s summer canning frenzy, neatly arranged in groups of tomatoes, string beans and limas. There were also three rows of peaches, six deep, because peach cobbler was Gladys Tatlow’s claim to fame in Russell County.

  Gladys’s voice came from th
e kitchen. “What do you say, Miss Debby?”

  “Thank you, Grandma Gladys,” piped Debby just as I stepped into the room.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” I swooped down and grabbed the chocolate moon-pie from Debby’s hand. “What did I tell you about eating junk like this right before supper?”

  Debby Ann began to howl, stamping her red rubber boots against the linoleum like she was auditioning for The Ed Sullivan Show. Gladys folded her arms over her chest and glared at me, her mouth fixed in a disapproving straight line.

  I ignored her, focusing a matching glare on Debby Ann. “Hush yourself this instant, young lady!”

  Gladys made a sound that reminded me of one of the hens out in the yard—something between a “cluck” and a hiss, and it always meant the same thing--that I didn’t have a brain one in my head.

  “Now, Lily,” Gladys said. “You need to simmer down. A little moon-pie ain’t gonna hurt that youngun’s appetite. Why, Jake and the rest of my younguns like to eat themselves silly during the day, and they still put away enough supper to feed a half-dozen farmhands.”

  Debby, smart little minx that she was, took her grandmother’s words as a sign of encouragement, thinking perhaps I’d give in. She stopped in mid-scream and looked from me to her grandmother, her tearful brown eyes gleaming with new hope.

  Purposely avoiding Gladys’s gaze, I focused on my daughter. “Debby Ann, I want you to go to your room and lay down for a while before supper.”

  As my words sank in, Debby’s heart-shaped face grew dark as a thundercloud. Her lower lip poofed out and her blonde brows furrowed. “Debby Ann want moon-pie,” she said in a deep, growly voice that at one time had amused me enough that I’d dubbed it her “demon-child” voice.

  But I wasn’t amused now. “You are not getting a moon-pie before supper, young lady!”

  With an outraged shriek, Debby Ann threw herself on the floor and began to thrash back and forth, kicking and screaming to raise the devil. I stared at her a moment and then turned to my mother-in-law. “Well, I hope you’re happy, Gladys.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over Debby’s tantrum.

  Gladys gave me an outraged look. “Don’t you go blaming this on me. I’m not the one who has spoiled that youngun rotten. Why, I’ve never seen such behavior! If my younguns ever threw a fit like that, well, I’d just have to whop the daylights out of them. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child.’ That’s what the Bible says.”

  That did it; I’d had enough of Gladys and her endless insults. I released a groan of disgust and narrowed my eyes at her. “Well, it’s pretty clear you and Royce are the holiest of the holy, then. You sure didn’t spare any rods when you raised your hellion boys, did you? Maybe that’s why you never see hide nor hair of Tully! Or why Jake is always off at the pool hall getting drunk with the old gang, and doesn’t know an iota about how to be a decent husband and father! Maybe that’s why you have a daughter half-way around the world in a military uniform who won’t even drop a line to anybody in this family except her little sister. And speaking of that little sister, Lord help her living in a family like this! It’s amazing to me she’s as normal as she is when she’s lived her whole life surrounded by lunatics like you Tatlows!”

  Gladys sucked in a shocked breath and took a step backward. I realized that Debby Ann had stopped screaming, but my gaze remained focused on my mother-in-law.

  “And now that I’ve got your attention, let me tell you again why it’s so important not to give Debby Ann snacks before supper. I know I’ve said it before, and I guess I’ll have to say it ‘til I’m blue in the face, but Debby Ann needs…to be…hungry…when she comes to the supper-table. So she doesn’t…get…anemic…again. Now, is that clear enough English for you, Gladys? That means no moon-pies, no brown sugar toast, no Fig Newton bars, no Jell-O pudding, no Oreos, no shoofly pie, no apple dumplings, no peppermint sticks, no Sugar Babies…Gladys, I don’t even want you to give a sugary smile to that child if it’s within two hours of suppertime. Do I make myself crystal clear?”

  Locking gazes with my mother-in-law, I thought, Lord Almighty, I can’t believe I heard them words come out of my mouth. I’m actually standing up to the old biddy, and now she’s gonna haul off and knock my block off.

  Instead, the oddest thing in the world happened. Gladys smiled. Well, if a stranger saw that stiff twist of the lips, they’d think she was having a spot of indigestion, but I knew it for a smile. I’d seen it once or twice before when Gladys had claimed victory in a battle with Royce. This time, though, I saw something else—a flare of respect in the woman’s ice-cold blue eyes.

  And as if that wasn’t enough, she went a step further and gave a throaty laugh. “Well, I’ll be! It appears Texas and the army life grew you some backbone.”

  I was so taken aback by Gladys’s reversal that I couldn’t find a word to say in response.

  Just then, Debby Ann let out a mournful howl from the floor. “Debbbeee Annnnnnnnnn waaaaannnnts mooonnn-piiiiiiiie!”

  It was all I could do to stop myself from wrenching the brat off the floor and slapping her silly. And lord, I knew that was flat-out wrong, but that child surely could annoy the dickens out of a saint.

  But before I could move a muscle, Gladys turned her piercing gaze on Debby Ann and spoke in a voice that even an almost-Terrible Two couldn’t ignore. “Pick yourself up off that floor, young lady, and get along to your room like your mama says. I’m not gonna put up with that temper tantrum nonsense. No grandchild of mine is gonna get away with that as long as I’m around.”

  Debby’s eyes had widened to the size of half-dollars. Her mouth slammed shut so hard, I thought I heard the crack of her jaw hinges. The little girl looked up at her grandmother, a wounded expression on her face that plainly said, “You talkin’ to me?”

  “You heard me,” Gladys said briskly. “Haul yourself up off that floor and get on out of here. I don’t want to see you again until you can act like a little lady, not a heathen.”

  Debby obeyed her, but not without a final show of rebellion. She puffed out her bottom lip as far as it would go, lowered her brows to thunderstorm-level and got to her feet. Then she stomped out of the room as loudly as she possibly could in her rubber boots.

  Staring after her, Gladys shook her head grimly. “Mark my words. That one is going to be a pill when she’s a teenager. ”

  And I just couldn’t resist. If I’d been lined up against a stone wall opposite a firing squad, I wouldn’t have been able to hold my tongue after that statement. “Well, she is a Tatlow, isn’t she, Gladys?”

  And again, Jake’s mother surprised me by giving another dour smile.

  “Yes, I reckon she is,” she said. “I can see that ornery streak in her a mile away.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back.

  “It’s all from his side of the family, I reckon.” Gladys gave a disgusted nod towards the garage where Royce was doing an oil change on his truck, then looked away from me as if suddenly embarrassed by the moment of kinship. She wiped her knobby hands on her apron and turned to the cook stove where something simmered in a blue-speckled pot, giving off a savory aroma that suddenly had my stomach growling. “I reckon the beef stew will be ready directly. You want to go out to the garage and tell Royce and Jake to clean up for supper while I make the cornbread?”

  “I can do that,” I said. I was still smiling as I stepped out the back door and headed across the yard to get the men.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I didn’t even try to pretend to myself that Jake hadn’t gone back on his word and started drinking again. True, he wasn’t out to all hours when he went off to the pool hall in town. He hadn’t come in a minute past 11:00, and although I clearly smelled beer on his breath, he’d never been so drunk that he couldn’t walk a straight line. So, he was trying to live up to the no-drinking, no carousing bargain he’d made back in Texas.

  Trouble was, I knew it couldn’t last forever. It was just a matter of time before he tied one on
, and that was why it was so important to get him out of Russell County where he was under the influence of all his old cronies, the sorry lazy-ass good-for-nothing high school drop-outs who had nothing better to do than hang around the pool hall all day and drink themselves cross-eyed all night. But how in the world was I going to get him out of this county where he was born and raised?

  The answer came on the Saturday a week before Christmas, the first frigid day since we’d arrived back home. Temperatures had plummeted the night before, and gathering gray clouds had the old-timers predicting snow by nightfall. I’d planned to go into Russell Springs for a little Christmas shopping that day (it could only be a little shopping because Jake’s last paycheck from the military had dwindled from grocery shopping we’d done to help out Gladys.) After talking Jake into letting me borrow the car, I’d tucked Debby Ann into the back seat and headed off to town.

  I hadn’t been in Gracie’s Drygoods more than ten minutes when the door opened and Jenny Lynn Cook─also known as “Jinx” in high school─sashayed in…as well as someone could sashay with a belly that exceeded her by a good foot.

  When Jinx caught sight of me, her blue eyes widened and a big grin crossed her face. “Lily Rae Foster!” she shrieked. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

  It was true. The last time I remembered running into Jinx had been at the Russell County Fair just before I’d left for my ill-fated job in Louisville. Jinx and Lonnie hadn’t even gotten married yet, although she’d sported that gleaming diamond ring on her finger like it was as big and fancy as the one Eddie Fisher gave to Debbie Reynolds.

  I finally found my voice. “Oh, my Lord! Jinx Cook, would you look at you!”