The Ladies Farm

by Viqui Litman

  “Don’t pull that crap on me!” She slammed a metal measuring cup down onto the counter, and it rang throughout the kitchen. “I’m not asking you to dance attendance. I’m not asking you to dance at all.”

  It must have sounded as stupid to him as it did to her, because he fought back a grin as he shook his head and advanced. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll dance anyway.”

  He hummed something she didn’t recognize at all, then realized as they stumbled around the island that it was “Red River Valley.” “I’m not mad at you,” Della said. She had forgotten his penchant for kitchen dances to smooth over fights. At one time, it had been one of his most endearing traits. “And I’d love to sleep with you again. I just have a lot going on here.”

  “Just remember the Red River Valley,” he crooned. “And the cowboy who loved you so true.”

  They stopped.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Tony said slowly.

  “Sleeping with me?”

  “That too. I mean, this problem of all those things you have going on.”

  “Well you have to admit, between Barbara, and Hugh Junior and the gravel mining and the OSHA inspector—”

  “I know. But there’s always going to be something. The problem isn’t how much is going on, it’s how much we’re willing to do to be together. So, if I live here, we could be and you could still manage this whole mess.”

  “Live here like at the Ladies Farm?”

  “Well, yes. We’re selling the house anyway, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And I’ve got to reinvest the money and find another place to live, right?”

  She nodded.

  “So, I put it into a share of the Ladies Farm, you get a little more cash, and you and I can play all those night games you’re so fond of.”

  “You want to buy into the Ladies Farm?”

  “Well, it would give us a chance to be together.”

  Della listened to the muffled sounds from outside, trying to connect the ripping noises with a picture of Dave erecting the shed. Finally, she realized the pieces must have been packed in cardboard, and he was unpacking them. Where had Tony gotten this idea?

  “You think instead of the Ladies Farm we could have the Couples Farm: You and I, Rita and Dave, Kat and whoever?”

  “All I’m trying to do is give us a way to live a normal life in the place you seem determined to live it.”

  “You want us to live together at the Ladies Farm?”

  “I want us to live together. You want to live at the Ladies Farm. Why is it so complicated? I’ll commute into Fort Worth, you stay home and run the farm. It’d be great!”

  “Tony, I can’t talk about this now. Everyone’ll be down here in a minute, we’ve got to start breakfast. Here,” she reached up on the shelf and pulled down another mug. “Take a cup of coffee out to Dave.”

  “That’s okay, we picked some up on the way over.”

  “You’ve already had coffee?”

  “Just one cup,” he said, lifting his mug. “This is my second. I didn’t need to make up a reason to talk to you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “No. Of course not. Is Dave moving in too?”

  “Well, he and Rita have to live somewhere,” Tony said lightly. “And Rita is buying a share, isn’t she? Though I don’t think anybody wants to make any plans with Barbara … you know.”

  “You mean, while Barbara’s dying? She says it all the time, it’s okay for us to.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem right to be assigning her room out from under her,” Tony said. “I guess I’d better get back out there. Dave’s liable to put that thing together inside out. He’s good with motors, but he doesn’t much care for construction.”

  The discussion about Barbara drove him off, leaving Della alone for only a minute before Kat and then Rita popped in and they began breakfast.

  She said nothing to the others, glancing up only to smile at Flops, who wandered in to sniff around, then retreated back to Barbara’s room.

  Where would Tony fit in this? she wondered, arranging muffins in a basket. But she said nothing until they decamped to the office after breakfast, while the home health worker was helping Barbara bathe.

  “She has her good times,” Rita explained. “Usually first thing in the morning, and then around two. She’ll have some lunch and then she’ll feel like talking for awhile. Yesterday, she showed me how we could print the recipes off the computer onto file cards and then use those colored stamps Pauline made to decorate the cards.”

  “I told her we’d finish them,” Kat said in a shaky voice. “Just the way she intends, with those stupid little carrots and apples stamped all over them.”

  “Don’t sell her short,” Rita warned. “She may finish them herself.”

  “Will she be okay for the wedding?” Della asked.

  “Well, I hope,” Rita replied. “Two is her good time.”

  Della tried to focus on logistics. “Who’s coming? Do we have enough folding chairs? Don’t you want flowers?”

  “Well, my kids of course. Carla and her gang are driving over from Dallas, and Darlene and Tiffany are right here. You know, Darlene’s always though of Dave as her daddy anyways, so she’s pretty excited. And we told little Tiffany she could be our flower girl.”

  “You’re having a flower girl?” Kat asked.

  “Well, she’s already five and if she can’t be her mamaw’s flower girl, she’s going to miss her chance. I don’t think Darlene’s remarrying anytime soon. Anyway, we’re not having a procession, or anything. Darlene’ll just dress her up in her Easter dress and she can sprinkle a few petals up there over the JP’s feet, then Dave and I’ll say our vows.”

  “We’d better count the folding chairs,” Della said to Kat. “And check the freezer. And get some beer and wine.”

  “Now, Dave’s already taking care of the drinks,” Rita said. “You keep forgetting who owns the convenience store. I just need y’all to be there. To help Barbara. And, you know, to be there for me.”

  Her eyes had started tearing up, and now she broke down completely. “Here,” Della said, grabbing a tissue from Kat’s desk and bringing it to Rita. “All this is just such a surprise.”

  “Well, it’s not like Dave’s a stranger, we’ve been sleeping together for fifteen years if you don’t count the years I was married to Larry the second time, and maybe some of them anyway, I don’t even remember anymore. It’s just a relief to make the decision and be ready to go on. It’s like he’s already living here anyway, all the work he’s doing.”

  Kat and Della exchanged glances but remained silent while Rita wiped her eyes and blew her nose. When Rita finally looked up, Della said, “So you’re planning on Dave living here at the Ladies Farm?”

  “Well, yes. Husband and wife do usually live together, you know. That’s one of the benefits of marriage, especially in a place like Sydonia.”

  Della could see that Kat was thinking that Sydonia’s moral code had always proved elastic enough for whatever behavior Rita imposed on it but, thankfully, Kat said nothing. Della wasn’t sure what to say.

  “With the lodge up there, and all, we need a man,” Rita said, “and Dave’s certainly handy.”

  “Well, of course,” Della said automatically, not bothering to point out that the lodge conversion was only theoretical. “But we’ll have to talk about it … Kat and I. I don’t think we should until … you know, with Barbara.” She took a quick breath. “I’d like to wait until after Barbara’s death to start redistributing the Ladies Farm, if that’s okay with both of you.”

  “Why that suits me fine. As long as you don’t object to my husband and me sleeping under your roof in the meantime.”

  “We never objected before,” Kat said mildly.

  Chapter 19

  The WaLuKa trio brought the wedding cake over first thing in the morning. While Wanda had baked and iced the three tiers, Lu had busied herself producing a profusion of candied bloss
oms, gas pumps, and hair clippers to adorn the creation.

  “Isn’t this the most colorful thing you’ve ever seen?” Rita bragged. Kathy’s contribution was the Ken and Barbie couple that topped the cake. The Ken sported coveralls with the name Dave stitched over the left breast pocket; Barbie wore a jewel-studded denim jumpsuit and a head of spiky black hair.

  “Old teddy bear,” Kathy confided. “I ripped Barbie’s hair off, cut up a plush toy, and pieced together a wig. Thank God for Super Glue!”

  “It’s amazing,” Della assured her.

  “Don’t touch,” Darlene warned Tiffany, who had run in from the kitchen, where Kat had been showing her the little heart-shaped sandwiches they had put together the previous night.

  The child wore shorts and a T-shirt; her pink, flounced dress hung from a hanger hooked over the back of a chair. “Are you ready to get your hair done?” Rita asked her. “I told her I’d pile it high on her head,” she explained to Wanda, who stood blinking critically at her handiwork as if she wished she had a few more sugared gas pumps with which to edge the cake.

  “How’re you doing yours?” Wanda asked.

  The trio regarded her quizzically, but Rita breezed past with Tiffany in tow. “Oh, not much to do with a head full of bristles,” she sang out. “Darlene found me a little wreath to sit on top: baby roses. I’m thinking that’s all I’ll need. Barbara’s lending me her diamond pendants. I don’t want to look too busy.”

  Wanda, Lu, and Kathy exited though the kitchen; Rita and Tiffany disappeared through the living room. Darlene lifted Tiffany’s dress off the chair and paused to admire the cake once more. “That sure is my mother,” she laughed, shaking her head.

  Della nodded. “I think so, too.”

  “Can I help you all?” Darlene offered. “I’ll bet you could use a hand.”

  Della showed Darlene to the kitchen, where Kat was slicing celery and carrot sticks. Kat looked up. “We’re just stowing them in these Baggies with marinade,” she told Darlene. “Knives are on that magnetic bar over the counter.”

  Darlene was an adept slicer, and she, Della, and Kat had worked their way through celery, cucumber, carrots, and red and gold bell pepper before Dave and Tony started unloading the drinks.

  First came the keg. Then came the trash can lined with Hefty bags and filled with ice and cans of soda.

  Then they stomped inside, where Dave spied the cake. “How’d she like it?” he asked.

  “She’s overwhelmed,” Della replied.

  “She around?”

  “In the salon.” Della waved her hand toward that side of the house.

  He nodded and started off. “I don’t think she’ll be superstitious,” he muttered. “She didn’t see me before our first wedding and that one didn’t work out at all.”

  Tony grinned at Della, then studied the cake. “It’s something.”

  “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Knew what?”

  “About Rita and Dave. That he was planning on living here.”

  “Well, honey, that’s what I told you yesterday. But I don’t think it was ever a secret about where they were heading. Rita has an inclination to marry.”

  Della sighed. He was right, but irritating. “So you figure if Dave can, why shouldn’t you?”

  “I figure Dave and Rita hit upon a good idea. I’m not too proud to copy it.” He stood with one foot resting on a rung in the dolly.

  “You feel like this would work for us?” Della asked. “Even when we couldn’t live together before?”

  “Yes ma’am. I do.”

  Della tried to imagine it. Maybe Rita and Dave would take the place up the hill and she and Tony could carve themselves a suite out of her own and Pauline’s room. Tony’d go off to Fort Worth every morning and would stop at the store for them on his way home. There’d be picnics on the hill, canoe trips down the Nolan, and deep conversation by the river under the stars.

  Of course, reflected Della, Tony had never enjoyed picnicking, canoeing, or conversing. But he seemed more indulgent now.

  “Maybe we ought to talk about it,” Della granted. Tony’s eyes widened, and Della wondered if that were panic at possibly achieving what he’d pursued. “We could go out in a canoe, next week. I’ll fix us some lunch and we can paddle down to the landing below Wendells.”

  He grinned. “Are you asking me for a date now?”

  “I guess I am,” Della conceded. “But just a date. An afternoon date.”

  “A little regression therapy might be good for us,” Tony allowed.

  Della started to snap about calling an intercourse-free social occasion a regression when Kat poked her head into the dining room. “It’s Melissa. On the phone.”

  “I’ll just see how our shed’s doing,” Tony excused himself.

  “I think I might have caused a problem,” Melissa said.

  “What’s up?”

  “Well, Hugh called this morning, and we talked.”

  “Well, we knew he’d be mad.”

  “Oh, he’s more than mad,” Melissa said. “He’ll be filing writs for the next twenty years.”

  “What happened?”

  “I think he called Castleburg, and he told Hugh something about y’all buying the neighbors’ place—the Huttos’—and Hugh just thinks the whole thing’ll fall apart, so he’s heading your way!”

  “Well,” Della chuckled, “I’ll be happy to talk to Hugh.”

  “Oh, Aunt Dell, he doesn’t want to talk with you. He’s going right to Aunt Barbara! That’s why I’m calling. I think you better tell her—you know, about everything with you and Uncle Richard and all, because he’s thinking when she hears it she’ll sign her half over to him.”

  Della shook her head at Kat to indicate there was nothing to worry about, but Kat looked unconvinced. “What time did you talk to him?”

  “Just now!” Melissa said. “From the car. I’m telling you, he’s on his way there.”

  “Well, honey, we’ll deal with him when he gets here. First, we’ve got a wedding to do.”

  “Aunt Dell,” Melissa warned, “he’s really mad. He won’t even give me some of mother’s things I wanted. It’s real petty,” Melissa continued. “And I don’t think he’s ever letting go of those journals. He’s going through those things with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “Well, we can’t control Hugh.” Della tried to sound calm.

  “I know. But I can control what I do, and I want you to know I’ll sell my half to you all.”

  “Oh! Melissa,” Della felt her eyes welling up and she turned away from Kat. “Honey, that’s so … you are so wonderful and we appreciate this so much.”

  “It’s what my mom wanted,” Melissa assured her.

  “I think so, too.” Della gave Kat a thumbs-up. “Even so, this is a big step for you. You and your brother … that’s sure not what your mother wanted.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Melissa said. Della could hear the effort to sound breezy.

  “Honey, you take care of yourself.” As she hung up the phone, Della turned her back to Kat and held the receiver in place for a moment to calm herself. Think carefully, she counseled herself. Think it all through.

  She murmured a few words to Kat to dismiss any fears, then walked down the hall to Barbara’s room.

  If Hugh gets to Barbara, Della thought, she might just blow him off. She might already know what he’s going to tell her. She might not care anymore. She might recognize him for the bitter, obsessed loser he is and not pay any attention to him.

  Della put one hand on the door knob and knocked with her other hand. “Barbara?” she called.

  “Come in.” It was the voice of the home health aide, a young Jamaican named Lydia.

  The odor hit her as she opened the door. It was the smell of shit and it came in a wall of warm air that made the room shimmer in its own heat. “We are just getting cleaned up,” said Lydia. Her Caribbean lilt made getting two words: gett ting.

  The soiled linens made a hug
e, tightly wrapped ball on the floor next to another ball of red plastic bag, which no doubt was the receptacle for the articles with which Barbara had been cleaned.

  “The bridesmaid wore a diaper,” Barbara whispered. She sat in the wheelchair and wore a cotton robe over what looked like a hospital gown. Flops, oddly patient, settled next to the chair.

  “Better than a maternity dress,” Della rejoined. She stepped over the balled-up linens and sat on the edge of the freshly made bed. “How you doing?” She reached over to take Barbara’s hand. Flops lifted her head a moment to look at Della, then laid it back down.

  “Oh, smelly but okay,” Barbara said. Her voice grew a little stronger. “Lydia’s going to help me in the shower, then I’ll get dressed.” She managed a smile. “Can’t keep the bride and groom waiting.”

  They sat awkwardly for a few moments, Della leaning forward and stroking Barbara’s hand as Lydia busied herself carrying bundles out of the room. “Anything I can get you?”

  “Makeup,” Barbara said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Do my makeup, after the shower?”

  “Oh, sure,” Della agreed. She stood as Lydia approached the bed to lay out Barbara’s clothes. “Just like a high school pajama party.” Barbara managed a smile. “Are you in pain?” Della asked.

  “No, no.” Barbara lifted a hand, then dropped it. “Just weak.”

  “You are ready now for your shower?” Lydia asked. Barbara nodded, and Lydia wheeled her away, Flops following a step behind.

  Della supposed she should shower and get dressed now, too. Most of the kitchen work was done; Nancy and her sister would take care of serving the food after the wedding. There was no point hanging around in her work clothes.

  She wandered through the living room and peered out back. The folding chairs were lined up under the live oaks before two pedestals, which sported arrangements of white gladiolus, purple irises, and flaming birds of paradise.