Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

Jinx laughed and headed toward me. “It’s Jinx Foley now! You stinker, you didn’t even make it back to Russell County for our wedding! Your mama had some sorry excuse…you were off gallivanting around Texas. Having babies and stuff. Come here and give me a hug.”

  Laughing, I threw my arms around my old friend, sandwiching the unborn baby between us. Then I drew back and scanned her. Jinx was just as pretty and sassy as she’d looked in high school, if not prettier, thanks to the glow of expectant motherhood. Lord, either she has triplets in there or that’s one humongous baby! And it looked like she could drop it at any moment.

  Me and Jinx were still shrieking over each other when Debby Ann reached up and tugged on the hem of my black wool car coat.

  “Mommy, who is that fat girl?”

  My cheeks burned. I pulled away from Jinx and frowned down at my daughter. The little imp stood with her hands propped on her tiny hips, gazing up at us like a stern librarian scolding a couple of rambunctious kids. “Debby Ann, that was a very rude thing to say!”

  But Jinx was laughing. “She’s right! I am a fat girl!” She bent over so she could look Debby Ann in the eyes. “You must be Lily Rae’s little girl. I’m your mommy’s old girlfriend from high school. We were like two peas in a pod back in the good old days.”

  Well, that was an exaggeration, I thought. We’d run in the same circle but hadn’t been particularly close. Jinx had been so besotted with Lonnie, she’d barely given any of the other girls the time of day.

  Debby, having decided she didn’t particularly care for being addressed by a “fat girl,” stuck her thumb in her mouth and tried to hide behind my leg.

  “Yes, this is my little Debby Ann. Spoiled as the day is long, she is.” I stood back and gave Jinx another once-over. “It looks like you’re ready to give birth any minute now. Is this your first?”

  Jinx brushed a lock of wavy blond hair away from her forehead. “Lord help me, yes. My first, and it was due four days ago. I told Lonnie if it didn’t come soon, I aim to go back to Bowling Green and check myself into City Hospital and have them yank this baby out, surgically, if necessary. I don’t aim to be in a hospital bed when his company throws the big Christmas shindig. It’s the only chance I have to doll up in sparkly clothes. And you ought to see the dress I ordered from the Montgomery Wards catalog, thinking I’d be trim and slim again by the 21st.” She shook her head. “But this ornery child is determined to mess things up for me.”

  I laughed. “Get used to it. Everything changes when the kids come along. Like sleep. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since March 9, 1953, the last night before I went into labor.”

  Jinx rolled her blue eyes. “Thanks for sharing that, Lil.” Her face brightened. “But I do declare, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, hon. What say we head over to Grider’s for a milkshake? I’ve been craving chocolate milkshakes ‘til the cows come home.”

  ***

  Debby Ann twirled on the soda fountain stool between me and Jinx, stopping every once in a while to take a messy slurp of her strawberry milkshake. On the counter in front of Jinx rested a frosted glass containing what was left of the chocolate milkshake she’d been craving so desperately. I’d ordered a Coke and French fries, more by habit than because I was hungry.

  When Wallie, the soda jerk, placed the red and white checkered cardboard box of hot golden fries in front of me, I said, “You two are going to have to help me eat these. I don’t know what it is about Grider’s, but every time I come in here, I crave these things.”

  Jinx smiled, eyeing me speculatively. “Hmmmm…maybe I’m not the only one who’s expectin’ here.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “Bite your tongue! Lord, that’s all I need. Jake out of a job and us living with his folks. And expecting on top of that? Huh! Why, I’d sooner take a swan dive, naked as a jaybird, off Cumberland Falls.”

  Jinx picked up her milkshake and took a long draw from the straw. Afterward, she dabbed at her lips with a napkin and said matter-of-factly, “Lonnie could get Jake a job if you’re willing to move to Bowling Green.”

  I almost choked on a french fry. “Are you serious?”

  Jinx nodded, finishing off the last of her milkshake. “He just made foreman at the iron factory outside of town, and he’s looking to hire a few more men to work the second and third shifts. You think Jake would be interested?”

  I caught my breath and tried to remain calm. For a moment, I was at a loss for words as hope swelled up inside me. Finally, I found my voice. “Oh, he’ll be interested,” I said, my jaw tight with determination. “God help him if he’s not…because this is my ticket out of this podunk town, and I aim to use it.”

  ***

  Amazingly enough, Jake didn’t put up a fight about the job, and he promised to get in touch with Lonnie after the holidays. As it happened, Lonnie got in touch with him first.

  Two days before Christmas, he showed up on the Tatlow’s front porch with news that Jinx had delivered twin boys the day before, and she’d made him promise to come by and tell me—and to set up an interview for Jake after the new year.

  I began counting down the days. I’d listened as Lonnie discussed the job with Jake. He’d start out on day shift doing training, and after a few weeks, would be moved to the 2nd shift, 4:00-midnight. The starting pay was even better than he’d made in the Army, and best of all, it included a health insurance plan and a housing allowance if we chose to live in a rent-to-own subdivision close to the factory. We’d actually have our own little house! When I heard that, I was so excited I had to jump up and run into the kitchen on the pretense of getting them more coffee just to expend some energy. A flour-dusted Gladys stood at the table, rolling out pie dough.

  “We’re gonna get us a house!” I whispered, unable to contain my delight. “Oh, Gladys, he’s just got to get this job.”

  “Now, don’t count the chickens before they hatch,” Gladys said without looking up.

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s got an interview on January 3rd. And Lonnie says it’s just a formality and he’s got the job if he wants it.”

  Gladys looked up at that. “Well, let’s just hope he wants it then.”

  My jaw tightened. “Oh, don’t you worry. He’s gonna want it. I’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

  ***

  Jake used the tip of a corn pone to push the last of yesterday’s good luck black-eyed peas into his spoon. He shoved them into his mouth, and still chewing, got up from the supper table.

  Mildly curious, I watched him. Usually, he didn’t get up from the table until after Gladys had served him dessert.

  “They’s chocolate cake, Jake,” Gladys said. “Sit yourself back down and I’ll cut you a slice.”

  Jake headed for the door. “No time, Mama. I got to wash up.”

  My mouth dropped open. Now, where did he think he was going? Before I could say a word, though, Royce did it for me.

  “Where you off to in such a hurry, boy?” he barked, shoveling in a big spoonful of mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas. “The least you can do is thank your mama for fixin’ these vittles for you.”

  I looked away from the mess in Royce’s mouth as he chewed with his big yellow horse-teeth, thinking, yeah, you’re one to talk, Royce Tatlow. You’re always thanking Gladys for doing for you.

  Jake stopped in the doorway, wearing a look that was half-irritated and half-ashamed. “Good supper, Mama. Thank you.” He turned to his father. “I told the boys I’d meet ‘em down at the pool hall for a few minutes.”

  Alarm rippled through me. Jake’s idea of “a few minutes” usually meant “three or four hours.”

  “Jake,” I said. “You can’t be serious!”

  He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Don’t start with me, Lily Rae.”

  Debby Ann, sitting on a stack of Sears & Roebuck catalogs, pointed a greasy finger at her father. “Daddy go! Debby Ann want to go, too!”

  “You can’t go, Debby,” I snapped. “And Daddy can’t either!”

&n
bsp; Silence fell. Every eye at the table settled on me. The motor of the old Westinghouse refrigerator clicked on, unnaturally loud in the quiet room. The moment of silence stretched. Across from me, 14-year-old Inis shrank back in her chair, her brown eyes wide and fearful. Poor girl hated scenes, and Lord knew she’d suffered enough of them in this family. I hated putting her through yet another one, but this time, I just had to put my foot down. Royce, at the foot of the table, munched on a corn pone, his eyes gleaming in anticipation as they darted from Jake to me. He was just the opposite of his daughter; he loved a good knock-down, drag-out, and the uglier, the better.

  Gladys, at the other end of the table, stared down at her plate, her lips stretched in a thin, stern line. It was the expression of the old Gladys—the one who wouldn’t give me the time of day. And I’d actually believed I was making progress with the woman. Well, I should’ve known it wouldn’t last. After all, her darling son could do no wrong.

  I lifted my chin and met Jake’s outraged gaze.

  “What did you say, woman?” he asked. His tone was quiet, but the menace behind it was unmistakable.

  I stared him down. “I said you’re not going anywhere tonight. You’ve got that interview in Bowling Green tomorrow morning, and if you go out with your hooligan friends tonight, you’ll get drunk and you’ll either miss the interview or you’ll go and make a blame fool of yourself and you’ll throw away our only chance at a decent life. And I don’t aim to let you do that.”

  I held his gaze defiantly. Across from me, I could almost feel Inis cringing in her chair.

  Jake stared back, his jaw clenched. Finally, a slow grin spread over his face, but it was anything but pleasant. His eyes told the real story as they flared with rage. He looked at his father. “I know she ain’t talking to me. ‘Cause Tatlow women know better than to talk to their men like that, ain’t that right, Daddy?”

  Royce gave a snort of laughter and started to say something, but just then Gladys’s head snapped up and she shot her husband a look that stopped him cold.

  She turned to her son, and said quietly, “Jacob Royce Tatlow, you sit your behind back down in that chair, and have yourself another helpin’ of supper. Or I can get you a slice of chocolate cake. But you ain’t goin’ anywhere tonight. The only way you’re gonna take that car of yours out onto that dirt road leading to town is over my cold, dead body. You hear me, son?”

  When Jake just stood there staring at his mother in total disbelief, her eyes narrowed and she barked, “Move, I said! Sit yourself back down!”

  Two patches of red stained Jake’s cheekbones as he moved back to his chair and fell into it. A shocked silence filled the room.

  It was Gladys who broke it. “I reckon your wife knows what she’s talking about,” she said in a normal tone of voice as she reached for a platter of pork roast. “Tomorrow’s a big day for you, son, and I reckon a few hour’s extra sleep won’t do you no harm.”

  No one said anything. Another moment of silence passed as Gladys calmly finished her supper. Finally, she looked up and gazed around at everyone as if she’d just noticed they were all there.

  “Ya’all ready for a big slice of chocolate cake?”

  ***

  Jake waited until we turned the lights out in the bedroom, then he turned to me as I climbed into bed.

  “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again in front of my folks, Lily Rae,” he said softly. “If you do, I swear to God, I’ll knock your teeth out.”

  I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but I knew what it looked like. Stone-cold. I knew better than to respond to him when he was this angry, so I simply got into bed and turned on my side away from him.

  He didn’t speak again, and a few minutes later, I heard his soft snore.

  He was up the next morning and gone before I awoke.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  May 1955

  I looked up from my magazine and glanced around the tiny back yard, still finding it hard to believe it belonged to us. Well…sort of. We were renting the house, but on a rent-to-own basis, so if we wanted to, we could own it someday.

  It was just after four on a beautiful, summery May afternoon, and as the brilliant sunshine baked down on my Coppertone-slathered skin, I realized I’d never been happier in my life than I was at this very moment.

  Jake had left for work at the iron factory 20 minutes ago, and Debby Ann was still napping. I hadn’t wasted a moment after he took off. When Jake walked out the door, I’d been singing along with Pat Boone’s new hit, “Two Hearts” as I ironed a basket of clothes. It was hotter than blazes in the house, even though I had the table-top revolving fan going at full-blast, and my sleeveless cotton blouse and shorts were splotchy with sweat. As soon as his car drove off, I turned off the radio, tip-toed into our bedroom and opened the dresser drawer as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to wake Debby across the hall. After slipping into my swimming suit, I’d gone out the back door and dragged one of our brand new striped lawn chairs ($4.99 a piece at the 5 & Dime) from the concrete patio into the back yard. I’d settled into it with a glass of sweet iced tea, the bottle of Coppertone, a pack of Winston’s, and the latest issue of Housekeeping Monthly.

  But I was finding it hard to concentrate on the magazine. Every couple of minutes, I found myself looking around the back yard like I thought it was going to up and disappear or something. It was just that I was so confounded thrilled about the way everything had changed in the few short months we’d been here in Bowling Green.

  A yellow butterfly flitted past my face, briefly landing on the wide daffodil-yellow stripe on my black swimsuit, and then darted off to inspect a rose bush growing along the side fence. The sight made my heart feel like it was about to bust with pride.

  I grinned, reached down for my iced tea in its metallic-blue aluminum glass and took a sip. It surely was the best iced tea I’d ever tasted in my life. And that’s how it had been with everything in my new home. Special. Even the scuffed up old furniture we’d bought at the Salvation Army and Mother’s sun-faded blue gingham curtains at the kitchen window looked new and special here in our new house.

  And I knew why. Because it was ours. No longer were we dependent on Jake’s family…or even the military to provide a roof over our heads. We were on our own, and everything was just wonderful.

  I glanced down at my Timex and saw it was almost 4:15. Debby Ann probably wouldn’t be sleeping much longer, and my peace and quiet would be over. Especially if that durn Good Humor truck came by again at 4:30 like he had every blame day since the weather got good. Lord help me, if Debby Ann heard it, there would be no peace if I didn’t scrounge around for a nickel to buy her something. Her reaction to the calliope music of that ice cream truck reminded me of what I’d learned in high school psychology about that Pavlov guy and his slobbering dog.

  Well, maybe I’d be lucky today, and she’d sleep through the ruckus. It felt like a day that a miracle could well happen. I turned a page in the magazine and saw an article titled “The Good Wife’s Guide.” The picture showed a cheerful housewife in pearls and heels, stirring something on the stove, and a husband in a suit who’d obviously just arrived home, a newspaper under his arm, a smile on his face. At his feet were two well-scrubbed blond children, digging through Daddy’s briefcase for the surprise he’d apparently brought them.

  “Hmmmm…” I figured I was already a pretty good wife, but it wouldn’t hurt to see if I could pick up a few new tips. Taking another sip of iced tea, I began to read the advice.

  • Have dinner ready.

  No problem there. I make Jake a big supper before he goes into work every day. But when he gets off at midnight and comes home, he’s on his own. This wife is sleeping.

  • Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking.

  Well, with him working the second shift five blessed days out of the week, by the time he gets off work, I’m in bed fast asleep, and I ain’t got a smidgen of make-up on, and I’m not
about to wear a ribbon in my hair to bed.

  I smiled. And I might not be all that fresh-looking at one in the morning, but it didn’t stop Jake from kissing me awake and having his way with me if he was in the mood, so I reckoned I was fresh-looking enough.

  • Over the cooler months…light a fire for him to unwind by…catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

  I frowned at this one. Now, that’s interesting. I remember those days back in Texas, spit-shining his Army boots, laundering, starching and ironing his uniform and cooking three meals a day for him after being up all night, walking the floors with a screaming baby, and I never felt anything close to personal satisfaction.

  I shook my head and read on.

  • Listen to him...Let him talk first—remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

  I rolled my eyes. Huh? Who says?

  • Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night.

  Well…guess I just flunked this test.

  • Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

  Like hell I don’t! I tried picturing Betty reading this, and what her reaction would be, but heck, I couldn’t do it. Betty wouldn’t be caught dead reading a magazine called Housekeeping Monthly.

  But it was the last “rule” that really got my goat.