Lily of the Springs

by Carole Bellacera

  A moment later, we’d situated ourselves on another big rock far enough away from the kids that they couldn’t overhear, yet close enough so we could keep an eye on them. Betty lit cigarettes for both of us. I sat quietly, waiting for her to begin.

  She took a drag on her Virginia Slim, fastened her eyes on the moss-covered river, glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “Okay. What is it you want to know?”

  I gazed at the lit cigarette in her right hand. It trembled in her grasp. “What did you mean with that remark about Jinx? About not trusting her. What is it you suspect?”

  Betty studied me, eyes wary. “Hon, it’s probably nothing. You know how I am. I always think the worst of everyone. And you know Jinx and I didn’t get off to a good start. It’s probably my dislike that’s affecting my thinking.”

  I bit down hard on my bottom lip and then said bluntly, “You think Jinx and Jake are sleeping together, don’t you?”

  I watched Betty absorb the question. Laugh, I silently urged her. Laugh it off and tell me that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard. That I’m over-reacting.

  She didn’t laugh. She looked away from me and stared out at the river, lifting her cigarette to her lips. Instead of taking a draw on it, though, she held it motionless for a long moment. Finally, her hand dropped, and she turned to me.

  “Lil, the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” Her eyes glimmered with sadness.

  The knot in my throat thickened. My stomach felt as if a bowling ball had lodged inside it. I tried to speak, but found there wasn’t enough air in my lungs to drive the words. Betty reached out and took my hand, squeezing it hard.

  Finally, I found my voice. It came out scratchy and hoarse. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. I’m sure Katydid didn’t want to hurt me, either. She knows. That’s why she and Jinx haven’t spoken to each other in seven years.” I looked up and met Betty’s gaze. “I need a friend who’ll be straight with me. No matter how much it hurts. I need to know the truth, Betty…even if it destroys my life.”

  “You can’t get the truth from me,” Betty said softly. “You know there’s only one person you can go to for the truth.”

  “But you do believe it, don’t you?” I said. “You think Jinx is having an affair with my husband.”

  Slowly, Betty nodded. “Yes, that’s what I think. But I hope I’m wrong.”

  I swallowed hard. It was all or nothing now. I might as well get it over with. “And you also think…that Paul John is Jake’s son, don’t you?”

  “Oh, God, Lil!” Betty jumped down from the rock and strode a few feet away. She whirled around and stared hard at me. “You’ve seen Paul John and Kathy Kay together. They look like just alike! The blonde hair, blue eyes. Even their noses are identical. Yes, Lil. Yes. I think it’s likely that Jake is Paul John’s father.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry! I never should’ve said anything last night. I should’ve just kept my big mouth shut.”

  I felt a strange calm settle over me. I climbed down off the rock and went to her, slipping my arms around her. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For being honest with me.”

  She hugged me tight. “We don’t know it’s the truth,” she said softly. “Maybe I’m letting my imagination run away with me. Maybe if you talk to Jake, he’ll…” Her voice faded away.

  I gave a soft, bitter laugh. “What? Deny it? Yes, I’m sure he will.”

  Our gazes locked. Betty’s eyes were still filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  I shook my head. “Don’t be. You tried to tell me 15 years ago that I needed to leave him. That I deserved better. And I chose not to listen.” Betty’s face blurred in front of me. I blinked away my tears. “Maybe it’s time I started listening.”

  ***

  To everyone else, it was a Sunday afternoon like any other. Well, that wasn’t quite true, I realized as soon as the thought went through my mind. It wasn’t just any Sunday that an American space ship had entered the moon’s orbit and was getting ready to land on its dusty gray surface. And it wasn’t just any Sunday that my 16-year-old daughter had spent most of the day in her bedroom, crying her eyes out because the boy she loved had gone away.

  And it definitely wasn’t just any Sunday that I would confront my husband, asking him if he’d been carrying on a 12-year affair with a childhood friend and classmate. I still wasn’t sure I could do it.

  It was now just after five p.m., and me and Jake, like millions of other Americans, were sitting in the living room, our eyes glued to the TV as the Apollo 11 lunar lander, manned by Commander Neil Armstrong, descended toward the moon’s Sea of Tranquility.

  “Seventy-five feet…” reported the crisp, calm voice of Buzz Aldrin, the lander’s co-pilot. “Lights on…down two and a half…40 feet…picking up some dust.”

  Jake looked toward the hallway and yelled, “Debby Ann, get the hell in here! History’s happening! You need to see this!”

  Debby Ann’s door opened, and the voice of Lesley Gore spilled out from her record player. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to… For some reason, every time Debby Ann went into a funk, she played Lesley Gore.

  “I’m busy!” She called out, her voice slightly hoarse from all the crying she’d been doing. “Besides, I don’t care about any stupid astronauts and whether or not they land on the stupid moon!”

  Jake’s mouth dropped open. It took about two seconds for him to understand what he’d just heard. “Get your ass in here right now, Debby Ann!”

  I tried to defuse his anger. “Jake, she’s upset.” I placed my plate of barely-eaten Cheez-Whiz and crackers on the coffee table, my stomach roiling. So much for pretending the afternoon was a normal one.

  He threw me a dark look. “Your fault! Didn’t I tell you it was a mistake to invite that highfalutin’ Kelly woman and her horny little son to stay with us?”

  I stiffened and glared at him. “You did not! And if you had, do you think I would’ve listened to you?” I looked back at the grainy images on the television, half expecting Jake to explode.

  But his gaze was fixed upon the hallway as Debby Ann stomped toward the living room. She entered with the latest issue of Teen Magazine in her hand and a black scowl on her face. “God! What is this, a dictatorship or something?” She threw herself onto the sofa on the other side of me, just as far away from her father as she could possibly get. “How come you’re not forcing Kathy to watch it? What makes her so special?”

  “You’re not too big for me to set your britches on fire, girl,” Jake growled, reaching for his glass of whiskey and Coke on the coffee table. The ice rattled as he took a long draw from it.

  “I’m sure she’s watching it over at Paul John’s, Debby,” I said quickly, still trying to keep the peace. I’d had second thoughts about Kathy going over to Jinx’s, but had decided to go ahead and let her. After all, if my suspicions were true, there wouldn’t be many days left together for the two best friends.

  “Now, look here, girl.” Jake pointed at the TV. “We’re about to witness history in the making, and one day, your grandchildren will ask you what it was like to watch the first moon landing, and you’ll be able to tell them all about it.”

  I glanced at Debby Ann. She’d defiantly opened her magazine and was leafing through it, her jaw rigid. Stubborn as a mule, that one. A younger female version of Jake.

  “Honey,” I placed a hand on her bare knee. “Daddy’s right. This is one of those times you’ll remember all your life. Like what you were doing when JFK was assassinated. You don’t really want to miss it, do you?”

  She shrugged and flipped a page in the magazine. “When are we going school shopping?” she asked sulkily.

  “Hush!” Jake threw her a dark look. “Can’t hear the goddamn TV!”

  Buzz Aldrin’s voice came from the television. “…contact light…okay. Engine stop.” He paused, then said, “Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.”

 
; The grainy images on the TV screen looked as if they were being broadcast from…well, the moon.

  Debby Ann shut her magazine with an audible smack and stood. “Well, they’ve landed. Can I go back to my room now?” She glared at her father, waiting for his response.

  “Jesus Christ!” he snarled. “Get the hell out of here, then!”

  Lifting her chin haughtily, she turned and headed toward the hall.

  “She’s turning into such a little bitch,” he said, loud enough for her to hear. He reached for his Winston in the ashtray on the coffee table. “That girl is becoming one huge pain in my ass.”

  I looked at him for a long moment, and then said quietly, “I wonder if your son will be a pain in your ass when he’s her age?” I studied him, waiting for his reaction.

  He stared at the TV, still showing grainy, ghostly images of the United States landing craft on the moon’s surface. He held his cigarette suspended between the table and his lips, and for a second, I thought I saw his hand tremble. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and slowly, he turned his head and looked at me.

  “What the hell did you say?”

  A cold blade of despair sliced through the pit of my belly. Until this very moment, somewhere deep inside, I’d held onto a tiny shred of hope that I was wrong. That Betty was wrong. Now, looking into Jake’s wary blue eyes, that hope dissipated like a thin stream of smoke. I knew in my heart I was looking at the face of a guilty man—a man who knew he’d done wrong, and had been found out.

  “You heard me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Your son. Paul John. You know…the baby you conceived with Jinx.”

  The blood drained from his face. He stared at me silently. Finally, he jabbed his cigarette into the ashtray, grinding it viciously into the glass. “What did that bitch Betty put into your head?” he said, his voice thick with fury. He grabbed his glass and got up from the sofa. At the doorway to the kitchen, he stopped and gave me a scornful look. “I don’t know what you’ve been drinking, Lily Rae. Or what kind of fairy tales Betty Kelly has been telling you, but she’s about as full of shit as that old outhouse we used to have on Opal Springs Ridge.” He gave a harsh laugh and disappeared into the kitchen.

  I sat on the couch, my eyes fixed on the TV screen. From the kitchen, I heard ice clinking into a glass. I knew what he was doing. Buying himself some time. Trying to come up with a good story to cover his ass. Well, that was fine. I’d give him enough rope and let him hang himself.

  He returned with a fresh drink and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Christ!” He shook his head. “You’re really something, you know that? That trouble-making Women’s Lib witch comes here for a few days, and tells you some bull-shit story that she makes up out of thin air, and you believe her without batting an eyelash. What does that say about our marriage? What does that say about trust?”

  I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to remain silent, and stared at the TV, even though there was nothing to see except The Eagle sitting there on the barren landscape of the moon. I understood what he was trying to do—trying to deflect the blame from himself and turn it onto me. My only defense was to be silent.

  He took a long swallow of his whiskey and slammed the tumbler onto the end table. “I suppose you went running to Jinx as soon as Betty Boop put the idea in your scatter-brained little head. I’ll bet she thinks you’ve finally lost your marbles, doesn’t she?”

  Here it was. The rope. I turned and looked him dead in the eye. “And if I did? You really don’t think she denied it, do you? When she’s been in love with you all these years?”

  His face paled. He reached for his glass and downed the remainder of his drink. This time, I was certain I saw his hand shaking. “Aw, shit.” He ran his hand through his hair. “What kind of crap did she put in your head? That girl is crazy as a loon.”

  Deciding to gamble, I looked at him pointedly. “You tell me what she said. You apparently know her so well.”

  Jake dropped his head into his hands. “Jesus,” he muttered. Slowly, he looked up at me. “She doesn’t love me, Lil. She loves the excitement of sneaking around. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else.”

  I got up from the sofa. Amazing, I thought. I should be screaming and crying and hurling accusations and threats. That’s what the old Lily would be doing. But this one…the one I’d grown into…was just too tired—and too disgusted.

  “It only happened a few times, Lil. I haven’t touched her in years!”

  I headed for the door to the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” Jake shouted. “We’ve got to talk this out.”

  I felt his gaze on my back, and imagined it to be pleading. But I wouldn’t look to confirm it. “I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about.”

  “She came on to me, Lil. She wouldn’t leave me alone. And even after she got pregnant with Paul John, those first months after Lonnie died, she kept calling me…just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lily! Don’t you walk away from me!”

  I’d reached the hallway. His footsteps approached behind me.

  “Lillian, goddammit, listen to me! It didn’t mean anything!”

  That stopped me. Slowly, I turned around and my eyes swept over him.

  At 37, he looked even more handsome than he had at 20. His face had filled out, the creases along his mouth deepening into attractive grooves. Tiny crinkles at the edges of his sparkling blue eyes—laugh lines, some people called them—gave him a Clint Eastwood movie-star-ish kind of appeal. His brown hair, grown out from the duck-tail he used to wear now sported long sideburns and longer layers on top. Even Jake wasn’t immune to the fashions of The Love Generation.

  With a curious detachment, I realized his eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

  He lifted a hand toward me. “You’ve got to believe me, Lily. It didn’t mean anything.”

  I stared at him for a long moment. From Debby Ann’s room, Lesley Gore sang “You Don’t Own Me”—a song that, under the circumstances, seemed uncannily appropriate.

  I nodded. “You’re right,” I said. “It didn’t mean anything. And that, Jake, is the problem. Nothing means anything to you. Not Jinx, not Paul John. Not me, not the girls, and most of all, not our marriage. In fact, I’d venture to say…there are only two things in this world that mean anything to you. One of them is booze…and the other one is your dick. And I’m tired of playing second fiddle to both.”

  I turned and walked on down the hall.

  There was a brief silence, broken finally by Jake’s voice, angry now. “Well, fuck you, then, bitch! Who needs you? I’m better off without you, anyway. Always have been! You’re the one who trapped me into marriage—getting knocked up like you did. Don’t you forget that! You were just an easy lay for me, and if it hadn’t been for your daddy and your sanctimonious brother, I would no more have married you than I would’ve married my mama’s old sow in the pig-sty.”

  My step faltered, and my heart contracted as if his words were bullets piercing into my flesh. I wanted to turn and slap him for talking about poor dead Landry like that. But some sane part of my brain told me it would be counterproductive to my next step. I straightened my shoulders and kept walking. Outside of Debby Ann’s door, I hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath to calm myself, then tapped on it.

  “Come in.” Debby’s voice sounded muffled.

  I opened the door. She was face-down on her bed, her face buried in her pillow. “Honey?”

  She turned over. Her anguished eyes stared at me from a face streaked with tears. And I knew she’d heard everything.

  ***

  Jake was gone when I stepped back into the living room a half-hour later, and so was his pick-up truck. Either he’d gone to one of his favorite drinking holes, or maybe over to Jinx’s house to have it out with her. I didn’t care. I was glad he was gone. It would be easier to leave if he wasn’t here to stop me.

  An hour later, the three of us were packed up and ready to g
o—Kathy Kay, confused, asking one question after another, and Debby Ann, morose and silent. I tried to placate Kathy with the promise of a stop at White Castle on our way out of town. I couldn’t tell her the truth now. Time enough for that, later.

  The last thing I did before hustling the girls into the car was to go into the armoire in our bedroom and draw out the old cedar jewelry box from my childhood. I opened it and gently took out the bit of cloth that held the ring of blackberry twig Jake had first given me when we were children. I’d kept it safe all these years. Taking it out of its protective wrap, I gazed at it until the tears in my eyes made it impossible to see. I left it on my dressing table on top of the cloth—along with the gold band he’d bought me in Korea.

  It was just starting to get dark after we pulled out of White Castle onto Highway 31 heading toward Russell Springs. That’s when I saw it—the quarter moon shimmering above the trees to my right. It wasn’t a Shepherd Moon. Not at all like the one me and Mother had gazed at that night on the wharf so many years ago.

  All the same, it was calling me home.

  Mother’s Orange Slice Cake

  3 ½ cup sifted flour

  ½ teaspoon salt

  A pound of orange slices candy, cut up

  An 8-ounce pack pitted dates, chopped

  A cup of margarine or butter

  2 cups sugar

  4 eggs

  1 teaspoon soda

  ½ cup buttermilk

  1 3 ¼ ounce can flaked coconut

  2 cups chopped walnuts or pecans

  Sift together flour & salt. Combine orange slice candy, dates, walnuts, coconut and add the ½ cup flour. Cream butter or margarine until light; gradually add the sugar while beating. Beat well. Add eggs, one at a time, beating thoroughly after each addition. Combine soda & buttermilk. Add alternately with the flour mixture. Blend well after each addition. Add candy mixture, mixing well. Turn into large tube pan which has been greased & floured. Bake in 300 degree oven for 1 hour and 45 minutes. Combine a cup orange juice and 2 cups sifted confectioner’s sugar, pour over hot cake. Cool, then let stand in refrigerator overnight before removing from pan.