Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

  A few minutes later, we settled into lawn chairs, the ice clinking in our aluminum glasses of soda pop. And I told her the whole story. After I finished, Katydid crossed one white hosiery-clad leg at the knee and swung her rubber-soled white shoe back and forth, staring off toward the western sky where a line of thunderheads had gathered like an army on the march.

  Finally, she spoke in her soft, matter-of-fact, Katydid way, “Lily, RJ and I were married a little over two years. And up until he had a fling with that little Vanderbilt cheerleader girl, he was a good husband. With both of us going to school, we were on crazy schedules, and there were times we didn’t lay eyes on each other for days.” She reached up, unpinned her cap from her head and laid it gently on her lap. Giving her head a shake, she ran strong-looking fingers with neatly trimmed nails through her gold-red hair, and the faraway look in her eyes disappeared as they focused on me.

  “I reckon some folks would say he fell in bed with that cheerleader because he was lonely. My own mama thought I should give him another chance. And you know what? I actually considered it.”

  She reached down for her drink and took a long sip. In the neighbor’s back yard, a screen door slammed, and I glanced over to see Bill Adams carrying a bag of charcoal toward a grill on his patio. He glanced at me and waved.

  “Looks like a storm brewing,” he called out with a grin as I waved back. “Guess I better rustle up these hamburgers for my hungry boys pretty quick.”

  “I reckon so,” I called back, wincing at the pain searing through my jaw. It was almost time for one of those painkillers the dentist had prescribed. “So, did you give RJ another chance, Katydid?”

  “Sweetie, do me a favor…” Katydid placed a hand on my knee, giving me a wry smile. “Call me Kate. That old nickname just doesn’t fit me anymore. It belongs to that naïve, sunshiny, Pollyanna girl I used to be. Not who I am today. You know who that is? A smart, accomplished gal who’s done her part in saving at least a couple of lives since I got that nursing degree. A woman who demands respect, not because of my gender, but because I’m a member of the human race. A woman who said wedding vows in a Baptist church in Russell Springs, promising to love and obey a man who’d been the love of my life since I was 14. He was the one who broke those vows, Lily, not me. No, I couldn’t give him another chance. I knew I deserved a husband who’d love me unconditionally, through thick and thin. RJ proved he wasn’t that man. And as much as my family—and his—tried to convince me that ‘boys will be boys,’ that I should just put his ‘little mistake’ behind me and start over with him, I just couldn’t do it. And I’ve never once regretted that decision.”

  I didn’t know what to say. In the silence, thunder rumbled in the distance, still too far away for concern. Katydid—Kate—lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip. Over in the Adams’s back yard, Bill had the fire going in his grill. The smell of charcoal drifted toward us, and my mouth began to water. I closed my eyes and pressed a hand to my mid-section.

  “So, I guess my question for you, Lily, is…” Katydid turned and looked me square in the eye. “How long are you going to put up with this barbaric caveman who vowed to love you ‘til death do you part?”

  My stomach spasmed. Bile rose in my throat. Cupping my hands over my aching mouth, I jumped up from the lawn chair and ran into the house. A moment later, I sank to my knees in front of the toilet bowl, retching. The clear chicken soup I’d had for lunch—the only thing I’d been able to eat for the past three days—came up.

  I was still on my knees in the bathroom when I heard the rustle of a starched uniform, followed by the gush of water in the sink. And then I felt the blessed coolness of a wet washcloth pressed against my forehead. Katydid didn’t speak; she just stood there patiently, waiting for my nausea to pass.

  Finally, it did. I lowered my body to the bathroom floor and wiped my tender mouth with the washcloth. Weakly, I lifted my head to look at Katydid. “How long will I put up with him?” I said softly. “Well, seeing as how I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant, and I ain’t got a pot to piss in without Jake, I reckon I’ll just have to put up with him for the rest of my life.” My lips twisted in an ironic smile. “Like my mother once told me …I’ve made my bed. Now, I have to lay in it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  January 1957

  Bowling Green, Kentucky

  I looked in on Debby Ann, saw that she was sleeping, and closed the door to her bedroom. With a relieved sigh, I lumbered into the living room, grabbed my library copy of Peyton Place, the scandalous new novel Betty had written me about, and plopped down on the couch to read a few more pages until Jake got home from work. That is, if my darn bladder would let me. It felt like the baby inside me was taking its tiny little hands and squeezing it like it was a ripe melon.

  Lord, was I ever going to give birth to this child? I felt like I’d been pregnant forever. But it’s only three days past my due date, I reminded myself as I opened the novel to where the bookmark held my place. Releasing a contented sigh, I glanced out the sheer-curtained window to make sure the snow was still falling. It had started just after noon, and now, I could see it was coming down thicker than ever. Across from the sofa, the black pot-bellied stove crackled and popped, sending out a comforting warmth on this cold winter’s afternoon—a perfect afternoon for reading! With a smile, I turned back to my book.

  Despite my interest in this potboiler, though, my eyelids began to grow heavy after reading only a few pages.

  I’ll just close my eyes for a few minutes. Debby Ann will be up from her nap soon…and now that Jake is on the day shift, I’ll have to get up and start supper…not that there’s a lot to do to make soup beans and cornbread…

  My thoughts began to drift…

  “Mommy…Mommy! I made poo-poo in my potty. You come see.”

  At first, I thought I was dreaming. But when Debby Ann’s sharp little fingernails dug into my arm, I bolted up from the couch. “Ouch!!! Lord, Debby Ann! What are you, part cat?”

  “Come see my poo-poo,” she insisted, tugging at my arm, her dark eyes guileless.

  I sighed and swung my feet to the floor. Lately, my daughter had shown an inordinate amount of interest in her bowel movements, another pleasant stage of childhood, I presumed, one that, oddly enough, I didn’t find all that delightful.

  “Did you wipe?” I asked, following her to the bathroom.

  “Uh huh!” On bare feet and wearing only a pair of pink terrycloth training pants and a T-shirt, she toddled ahead, almost tripping over Debby Ann Kitty who jumped a foot into the air and scampered off into the safety of my bedroom. Inside the bathroom, Debby Ann pointed in triumph at her Minnie Mouse potty-chair. “Look, Mommy! Poo-poo!”

  Oh, she’d wiped all right, I saw. What looked like half a roll of toilet paper was scattered across the bathroom--some in the potty-chair, some in the toilet, and most on the floor.

  Debby Ann beamed up at me. “See, Mommy?”

  “That’s a good girl. Next time, though, call Mommy before you go so I can help you with the toilet paper. You don’t have to use so much, you know.”

  Debby clapped her hands and stamped her feet on the tile, a proud grin on her face. “I did poo-poo, I did poo-poo,” she sing-songed.

  Lord a-mighty, I thought. You’d think she’d just pooped out the Hope Diamond.

  A sound came from the living room--the front door opening. Oh, damn, I thought. Jake’s home. And I’ll bet Peyton Place is laying right out there in plain sight. Not that it had a lurid cover. But still, Jake might’ve heard about it, and he certainly wouldn’t approve of me reading “such trash.”

  “We’re in the bathroom, Jake,” I called out. “Be right out!” To Debby, I muttered, “Let me check and make sure you wiped good, sweetie. Not that I don’t trust you…” I tucked an index finger under the elastic of her training pants for a quick peep.

  Debby pulled away, giving me an indignant look. “I did!”

  “Okay, I guess you did.” I g
ave her bottom an affectionate pat. “Now, go get your clothes on, girl. It’s January, not July. I swear, you’d go naked year round if I let you!”

  “Lily Rae!” Jake called from the living room.

  I frowned. He sounded mad. “Butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” I muttered, stepping out of the bathroom. He’d found the book, sure as H-E-double hockey sticks. Well, if it was a fight he was rarin’ for, I’d give him one. Being nine months pregnant with an aching lower back, swollen feet and a bladder that felt like a 400-pound hippo was sitting on it, hadn’t done a thing to put me in a good mood.

  “What?” I snapped, stepping into the living room.

  Jake stood just inside the front door, wearing his heavy wool coat, splotched with melting snow. His face looked as gray as the waning daylight through the window. My gaze darted to the book still lying facedown on the floor where it must’ve dropped when I fell asleep. Whatever his problem was, it wasn’t that, thank the Lord.

  “What’s wrong, Jake?” I asked. “Why are you home from work so early?”

  He stared at me a long moment without speaking. And I felt the first icy fingers of fear crawling over my spine.

  He swallowed hard and said, “You better get on over to Jinx’s, Lily. She’s gonna need a friend tonight.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Why? What happened?”

  Jake stared out the window at the falling snow. “There was an accident at the plant.” His voice was so soft, I could barely hear him. “A forklift went out of control and pinned Lonnie against a steel girder.”

  “Oh, my Lord,” I gasped, my stomach dipping. “Is he okay?”

  Jake turned his head and looked at me. “No, Lily. He’s not. The poor bastard was killed instantly.”

  ***

  The six inches of snow that had fallen on the day of Lonnie Foley’s death had barely begun to melt by the morning of his funeral. But on the night before he was to be laid to rest in the Poplar Grove Baptist Church graveyard near Webb’s Crossroads in Russell County, the cold spell broke with the onset of an unusually warm air mass that brought steady rain to the region. I was huddled beneath an umbrella, dressed in a double-breasted wool coat that couldn’t be buttoned over my distended belly and a black soft-brimmed hat, watching as Lonnie’s casket was lowered into the yawning grave carved out from the red Kentucky clay. Jake stood next to me, holding the umbrella, one arm wrapped around me tightly. A few feet away, Jinx Foley leaned against her father and sobbed as the gray casket disappeared into the earth.

  My heart ached for my friend. I’d never seen her this bad off—eyes reddened from crying, her face without make-up, as pale as what was left of the dingy snow on the ground. I could only imagine how awful it must be for her to see her husband dead and buried. And once that shock wore off, she’d have to deal with the other one—the sudden change in her life.

  Of course, the company had been good to her. Since Lonnie had been killed on the job, word had come down from Lute Dawson that Jinx could stay in the house, rent-free for six months in order to figure out her future plans. I supposed that was a generous offer, but it still left a funny taste in my mouth. After all, the poor guy had been killed on the job, and it hadn’t been his fault. It seemed to me that Dawson Ironworks should sign over the deed to the house, free and clear, especially considering the paltry pension she’d be living on.

  Over in front of the grave, Brother Joe Bob led the gatherers in a warbling verse of “Amazing Grace,” ending the service. As the mourners turned away and headed back to their cars, I heard a voice call out my name and I turned to see Glenodene Cook, Jinx’s mother, picking her way across the soggy grass toward me. I felt Jake stiffen.

  “Here.” He thrust the umbrella in my hand. “Take the umbrella. I’ll be in the car.” And he loped off.

  I understood why. Glenodene was one of the most long-winded talkers in the county. And just because she’d just watched her son-in-law being buried didn’t mean she’d be at a loss for words.

  “Lawsy, me,” she moaned even before she reached me as her high heels sank in the muck. “Have you ever seen the like of this weather? I swan! It just takes the cake. All that snow the other day, and now this.”

  “I know. It’s just awful.” When the woman finally reached me, I reached out a sympathetic hand. “I’m just so sorry for your loss, Glenodene.”

  The woman blinked reddened dark eyes behind thick-lensed spectacles, her ruby lips twisting in anguish. “Thank ye, kindly, Lily Rae. I know Jenny Lynn appreciates all of you’ve done for her since Lonnie’s passing.”

  “I just wanted to do something. It wasn’t much.”

  In addition to taking over some fried chicken, an oatmeal cake and a freshly-baked apple pie to the Foley home, I’d brought the twins over to the house while Jake helped Jinx with the funeral arrangements.

  “I just don’t know what’s to become of her,” Glenodene said, dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “You tell me…what’s that girl supposed to do now? Here she is with them two-year-old rambunctious twins and another baby on the way, and all she has to live on is that measly little pension Lonnie left her. How is she supposed to survive on that, I ask you? And Lord knows Festus and me ain’t got an extra dime to our name to help her out. I’m just worrying myself sick over it, I tell you.”

  She paused to snatch a breath, and I grabbed the opportunity to get in a word edgewise. “I didn’t know Jinx was expecting, Glenodene.” I squeezed the woman’s hand in sympathy. “Oh, this just makes it even more tragic. But you know Jake and me will help out just as much as we can. I reckon, though, she’ll probably want to move back to Russell County?”

  Glenodene shook her head as fresh tears gathered in her eyes. “I just don’t know what my girl will do. She’s too upset to think, much less make plans. Oh, Lord! Lonnie was just too young to go. A man in his prime, he was. Well, none of us knows the will of the Lord, do we? And it’s not our place to question it, I reckon.”

  I nodded and tried to pull my hand away from her clutches. “Well, Jake’s waiting for me in the car so…” Suddenly I stiffened as a pain knifed through my lower back and then radiated around my belly, tightening like an iron vice.

  Oh, I remembered that pain well. Too well.

  Clutching my bulging tummy, I turned away from Glenodene. “I think maybe Jake better get me to the hospital.”

  Of course, I’d p1anned to have the baby at City Hospital in Bowling Green where Katydid worked, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen now. Oh, well. I supposed Glenodene was right about the will of the Lord.

  She immediately realized my predicament, and helped me to the car.

  “The baby’s coming,” I said to Jake, slumping into the front seat as a new labor pain began in the small of my back. “I reckon you better get us into Columbia Hospital as fast as you can.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Tatlow,” said the pretty redheaded nurse, approaching my bed with an apologetic smile. “It’s time to take your baby girl back to the nursery.”

  I looked up from Kathy Kay’s sweet little face with a worried frown. “I think something’s wrong with her. She barely took any formula before she fell asleep.” With the baby cradled in my left arm, I picked up the four-ounce glass bottle of formula with my free hand and jiggled it back and forth. “You see? Not even half of it’s gone.” I knew I was probably being silly, but after what had happened with Debby Ann, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  The redheaded nurse—Enola Huddleston, her name tag said—reached over and took the baby from my arms. “Now, little mother, don’t you be worryin’ about this youngun. She’s only a day old. It usually takes two or three days before they really start eatin’ good.”

  I gave the girl a do-you-know-what-you’re-talking-about look. How old was she, anyhow? Maybe 18? She sure didn’t look old enough to have graduated from college with a nursing degree. Not only that, but there was something awfully familiar-looking abo
ut her. I narrowed my eyes as the nurse placed Kathy Kay into the plastic basket of a steel cart and tucked the blanket around her.

  “Well, I’ll be,” I murmured as the light dawned. “I know who you are now. You’re Pat-Pea…” I caught myself, realizing that the girl had probably never heard the nickname of her big sister. “You’re Patty Huddleston’s little sister, aren’t you?”

  The nurse flashed a big smile. Lord, she was pretty! Much prettier than Pat-Peaches in her wildest dreams. I wondered if Enola was as much of a tart as her sister had been.

  “Why, yes!” Enola said. “You know my sister?”

  “I did. We went to Russell Springs High together.”

  “Well, what do you say?” Her grin widened. “I went there, too! Small world, huh?”

  “Sure is,” I agreed, but thinking it wasn’t that big of a deal. After all, we were here in the hospital in Columbia, only about 16 miles away from Russell Springs. I supposed a good portion of the employees at the hospital came from Russell County, which meant they’d graduated from RSHS.

  Enola flashed me another smile and began to push the baby cart out of the ward. “You get some rest now, Mrs. Tatlow. Feeding time will be here again before you know it.”

  “Wait! How is Patty and…Chad doing?”

  The girl’s brown eyes lit up. “Oh, they’re just fine,” she gushed. “They have three younguns, two boys and a girl. Charlie just turned four, Jimmy is two, and the baby, Maggie, is seven months. Just precious as all get-out! And they have this beautiful house down in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Chad bought this golf course down there and fixed it up, and from what I hear, business is really booming. I go down there for vacation every summer, so I’ll be sure and tell them you said ‘hey,’ okay?”