The Widows of Braxton County

by Jess McConkey

  “It’s not that easy,” Kate said with a sigh. “I’ve already told you that the subject of Trudy is taboo. It’s been easier to let it slide.” Reaching across the table, she squeezed Doris’s hand. “It’ll be okay. Once I get settled in this job and things even out, I’ll give it another shot.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” Doris warned.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Trudy’s church group.”

  “What about them?”

  “Let’s just say that they’re talking more about you than they are God,” she answered sarcastically.

  Kate’s eyes flew wide. “They’re gossiping about me? But I haven’t done—”

  “Of course you haven’t, but it’s not stopping Trudy from dishing a load of crap.”

  “Such as?”

  Doris began counting off on her fingers. “You come from trailer trash and you married Joe for his money. You’re not a proper wife and couldn’t boil water without burning it.” She stopped. “Personally, that’s my favorite—who else besides those old biddies would care. And,” she said, holding up a third finger, “you’re so sloppy that Trudy has to clean up after you.”

  Kate wadded up a napkin and threw it on her plate. “That’s so untrue.” She picked the napkin up and began to shred it. “Well, maybe not the boiling water part, but the rest of it is a lie.” She tilted her head and gave Doris a shrewd look. “Do you suppose Trudy’s lies are why Mr. Forsyth gave me the fish eye when he came in for his checkup?”

  “Probably. His wife is in Trudy’s group.”

  “What does she hope to gain by trashing me?”

  Doris settled back and crossed her arms. “It’s obvious. She wants to turn people against you so—”

  Kate felt sick to her stomach. “So Doc starts losing patients because of me and has to let me go,” she finished for Doris. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Look, sweetie, she won’t succeed. People in town like you. You’re not like the rest of them.”

  “Huh?”

  “The rest of the women who’ve married into that family. Except for Trudy, who’s been a bitch since the day she was born, the others jumped at their own shadows. You’ve got spunk.”

  “Me?” Kate was shocked. “No, I don’t.”

  She thought back to all the things her grandmother had said about her over the years, and the word spunk had never been included. Screw-up, yes. Spunk, no.

  “One more thing.” Doris moved her empty plate to the side and leaned close to the edge of the table. “I don’t think this is common knowledge, but someone has said that they saw you in Flint Rapids with Will Krause.”

  Kate’s breath hitched in her throat and she felt the blood drain from her face. “It’s not like what it sounds . . . it was completely innocent . . . I swear,” she stumbled. “Will helped me pick out my Jeep. Joe didn’t want me to have a car.”

  “Humph, I’m sure he didn’t,” Doris said with a frown, then switched to a tight smile. “It’s okay. I believe you. Will’s a good guy. He wouldn’t take advantage of anyone.” She sobered. “But you might have a problem convincing Trudy and Joe of that.”

  Chapter 18

  Fall 2012, the Clement family farm

  After work, Kate was still worried about her conversation with Doris, and the last place she wanted to go was home. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. If she went home, she’d have to hold her temper and she didn’t know if that would be possible once she saw Trudy. Over the summer, she’d seen how vindictive Trudy was, but to smear her own daughter-in-law . . . Why?

  And the tales about her and Will. Kate gnawed on her bottom lip. She had two choices—tell Joe about her trip to Flint Rapids with Will before he heard the rumors, or keep her mouth shut and pray it all died down without Joe ever finding out.

  Turning the key, Kate started the Jeep and slowly backed out of her parking space. Neither one of her choices had much appeal. She made a left onto Main Street and headed out of town, but at the stop sign, she turned right. Might as well drive around a bit. It would give her a chance to compose herself before facing Joe and his mother.

  Scattered farmsteads marked by clusters of trees dotted the flat landscape, while fields of corn and soybeans stretched to the horizon. Kate thought back to the comment Joe had made about these roads in the winter. Without groves of trees and hills to block the wind and snow, this area would be desolate in the winter. She could imagine the cold gusts blowing across the flatlands and she shivered. Would her marriage survive until winter?

  Kate glanced down at her hands. Her simple wedding band didn’t gleam as brightly as it once had. Neither did her dreams.

  Returning her attention to the road, she spied a piece of heavy equipment parked near the edge of the road on her left. A large square out of the middle of the field had been stripped of its crops. A wide path led from the square to the machinery. Kate had a sinking feeling. She’d found the location of Joe’s project with David Turner.

  After stopping and turning off the ignition, Kate got out and walked across the road to the entrance of the field. She rotated slowly, and her attention swept the landscape. A farmstead to the east, a couple more to the west, and one to the north. She paused, looking toward the house to the north. It was closer than the other three.

  “It’s going to stink to high heaven every time the wind’s out of the south,” a voice next to her said.

  Kate’s hand flew to her chest. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I know,” Rose Clement replied, pointing to the machinery with the large stick she carried in her hand. “I was over there.” She caught Kate focused on the stick and chuckled. “I wasn’t bashing in the windows with this, if that’s what you’re thinking. But,” she continued, her face sober, “I was trespassing, if you want to run home and tell your husband.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kate mumbled.

  Rose turned her attention to the fields surrounding them. “I’ve lived on this land for sixty years, and I never once thought I’d be driven from my home.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Clement,” Kate said in a hushed voice.

  Looking over at Kate, Rose appraised her slowly. “Yes, I believe you are.” She strode past Kate, moving toward the Jeep. “Instead of standing here jawing on the side of the road, we might as well finish this conversation at my house. You will give me a ride, won’t you?” she called over her shoulder.

  With a shake of her head, Kate met her at the Jeep, then drove down to the Clement place. A few minutes later she found herself sitting in Rose’s kitchen.

  Vintage 1960s, she thought to herself. White appliances, low-pile kitchen carpet, and avocado green walls—it looked like something out of an old Better Homes and Gardens.

  “Have a seat,” Rose said, waving toward the Formica and chrome table in the center of the room. “Would you like coffee or a beer? Personally, this time of day, I prefer a beer.”

  “I’d better have coffee,” Kate replied.

  Rose raised her brow. “Afraid Trudy might smell it on you and think you’ve been hitting the bars?” she challenged.

  “Okay,” Kate shot back defiantly, “make it a beer.”

  She was rewarded with a wink. “Good girl. Don’t let that old cow buffalo you.” After getting the beer from the refrigerator, Rose sat in front of Kate.

  “Do you want a glass?” she asked.

  “This is fine.”

  Rose popped the top on her can and took a long drink, then placed it on the table. “I’ll say this for you, young lady, you’re not afraid to sleep with the enemy.”

  Thinking of the rumor about her and Will, Kate’s face blanched. “Ah—”

  Rose flapped her hand, stopping Kate. “I meant it figuratively not literally. First, you sashay into Krause Hardware bold as brass, then have a beer in my kitchen.” Her eyes sparkled. “Trudy would not approve.”

  “Look,” Kate said and began to rise, “if you’ve invited me in to cause tr—” />
  “Oh, sit down,” Rose exclaimed. “I’m not going to tell her or anyone else about your visit. As far as I’m concerned, there’s too much gossip as it is, and I don’t intend to add to it. I learned a long time ago how to keep my mouth shut.”

  The talk about gossip made Kate uncomfortable, so she sought to change the conversation. “You’ve always lived here?”

  “Like I said, sixty years.” Her attention traveled the kitchen. “I came here as a bride with my first husband, then after he died and I married my second husband, he moved in and took over the farming.” She gave a wide grin. “And contrary to what Trudy might have said, I’m not interested in a third.”

  “Do you have any children?”

  “A son down in Des Moines and a daughter and her family over in Flint Rapids,” she answered. “My daughter’s close enough that I can see her whenever I want, but far enough away for me to stay out of her business.”

  Kate chuckled, then sipped her beer. For an old lady, Rose wasn’t bad. Why couldn’t Trudy and her grandmother be more like Rose? She grew thoughtful and pulled on her bottom lip.

  “I’m sorry about the disagreement between you and Joe.”

  “You don’t have to keep apologizing for your husband, young lady,” Rose replied sternly. “Besides the battle’s not over yet. Hasn’t he told you that the project’s been halted?”

  “No.”

  Rose’s lip curled. “That doesn’t surprise me.” She took a deep breath. “We formed a neighborhood action group, and so far, we’ve been able to tie up the approval on their building permits.”

  “So it might not go through?”

  “Too early to tell, but we’re not giving up without a fight.”

  Kate drained her beer and debated about her next question, then plunged ahead. “I know this hog confinement thing is the latest thing, but I’ve been told you’ve never cared for Joe’s family. Why?”

  Rose examined her with open curiosity. “How much do you know of his family’s history?”

  “Please,” Kate exclaimed with exasperation, “you’re not going to trot out the story about ghosts and family curses, are you?”

  “You don’t believe in that?” Rose asked in a shrewd voice.

  “No. Do you?”

  “I believe that wickedness can live on.”

  “How so?”

  “Greed and violence can be passed down from one generation to the next.”

  “But you’re friends with Will, and he has the same great-great-grandfather as Joe.”

  “But Will’s great-grandfather broke the cycle. With Jacob’s death, he grew up without Jacob’s influence.”

  “So you do believe in the family curse?”

  “I would say that in some ways, Joseph, Jacob’s son, was cursed. He buried four daughters and a wife during the Spanish flu epidemic. Only two sons were left—Joe’s grandfather and his brother. Then the brother was killed in a farming accident.” She sat back in her chair. “Joseph remarried to a much younger woman, who presented him with twin boys. By all accounts, he adored them to the point he neglected Joe’s grandfather.”

  “Were they the great-uncles killed in World War Two?”

  Rose nodded. “Yes, and it broke what little heart he had. He died a year later, leaving the farm to your husband’s grandfather.”

  “Then Joe’s grandfather lost a son in Vietnam,” Kate said carefully.

  “Right, Joe’s Uncle Fred.” She halted. “So whether it’s simply a trick of fate or not, in each generation, there’s only been one surviving son to take over the farm.”

  “And Joe’s the last.”

  “That’s right. All the deaths combined with some shaky business dealings have fed the legend of a family curse and given your husband’s family their reputation.”

  “I mean no disrespect, but I think that’s silly. A person shouldn’t be judged by the way their great-great-grandfather, or even their grandfather, acted.” Kate grimaced. “We all have a choice as to what kind of person we want to be.”

  “Yes, we do. But those choices are governed by what we see growing up.”

  “By what we learn from our parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, I’m mean and stingy,” Kate muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  Kate looked chagrined. “Nothing . . . ahh.” She played with her empty beer can, then shrugged. “My grandmother . . . she tends to be selfish.”

  “I see.” Rose gave Kate a kindly smile. “I don’t think you’ll be like your grandmother.”

  “But if what you said is true—that we become like our parents—that’s exactly the way I’ll be.”

  “I said we’re influenced by them. Your grandmother’s influence pushed you in the opposite direction. From what I’ve heard about you, you’re a fixer, a people-pleaser.” Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Kate wisely. “In fact, maybe in your desire not to be like her, you’ve carried it too far and let people take advantage of you.”

  Kate thought about her marriage and the way she’d tried so hard to please both Joe and Trudy. “Do you have a degree in psychology?”

  Rose answered her with a laugh. “No, child, I don’t, but I’ve lived a long life. I would’ve been stupid not to have learned a few things by now.”

  Kate grinned. “I doubt anyone’s ever accused you of being stupid.” Her grin faded. “So you and Trudy . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  “Don’t care for one another because she’s a Krause and all that folderol about my grandfather and his investigation of Jacob’s death?”

  “Yeah.”

  She rolled her eyes. “A bunch of nonsense. Jacob’s death did have a big impact on my family, but not in the way everyone thinks.”

  “How so?”

  “Oh, we’ll leave that story for another day, but back to the trouble with Trudy. Do you want the truth?”

  Kate nodded emphatically.

  “You’re going to be disappointed. It’s not as dramatic as stories of ruined lives . . . Joe’s dad liked the ladies and it didn’t matter that he was married. After my first husband died, he offered to help me out.”

  Kate’s mouth dropped.

  “That’s right . . . he wanted an affair. Even though he was several years younger, I guess he thought as a widow, I’d be an easy mark.” She laughed. “He thought differently after he’d come sniffing around, and I ran him off with my late husband’s shotgun.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Kate responded in a shocked voice.

  “Why? I didn’t always look like this you know,” Rose huffed, straightening in her chair. “At one time, I was considered quite pretty.” She softened her words with a smile. “Trudy has always blamed me for her husband, shall we say, trying to jump the fence.”

  “She didn’t hold him responsible?”

  “Of course not. Joe’s father did what he wanted, when he wanted. And Trudy either put up with it or paid the price.”

  Kate looked at the clock and jumped to her feet. “Oh no! I had no idea it was this late.”

  As Kate passed, Rose laid a hand on her arm. “I like you. If you ever need anything, call me.” Her face was somber. “Even if you just want to talk. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  Kate patted Rose’s hand. “Thanks, Rose.” She glanced at the clock again nervously. “I’d better get home before I get in trouble.”

  Chapter 19

  Fall 2012, Braxton County, Iowa

  The stones cast long shadows over the newly mown grass by the time Rose made it to the cemetery. As she made her way, she noticed the headstones bearing the names of people she’d known over the years—once the last date was blank, now chiseled in. Her neighbors from down the road; they’d been a devoted couple who died within months of one another. The headstone of the young man who’d shown such promise in school, but whose life had ended in a car accident thirty years ago. He’d rested alone for so long, but his parents had finally joined him last year.

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nbsp; She walked past the older stones and tried not to notice the number of markers that featured angels and lambs. Too many children back then died before they had a chance to live, and it always saddened her thinking of them. Rose kept moving until she’d reached a plot in the back of the cemetery, sheltered by pine trees.

  She paused before the stone bearing the names of Dr. William Krause and his wife of sixty-four years, Clara. They had been a wonderful couple, and she had fond memories of the good doctor. He’d been close to her great-grandpa Gus Winter, and had visited him often when Great-Grandpa lived with her grandmother, Essie. When she was a child, the two men had allowed her to play cards with them. She smiled. Thanks to them, she still played a mean game of pinochle. After Great-Grandpa’s passing, William’s visits continued, and her whole family felt the loss when William died.

  Rose patted the top of the stone, then moved to an unpretentious stone to the left of Dr. William and Clara’s. Carved in gray granite, the stone bore only the name—HANNAH KRAUSE, and an epitaph. Using the stone for balance, Rose slowly lowered herself to her knees. After brushing away the grass clippings from the base of the stone, she placed a small pot of mums in its center. The dark bronze flowers looked nice against the gray granite.

  “I think you’d like her, Hannah, even though she is married to Joseph’s kin,” Rose murmured, moving the pot a couple of inches to the left. “Trudy wants her gone, but if she’d quit her meddling, I think that girl could break the cycle.” She gave a long sigh. “I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye on her.”

  As Rose walked away from the grave, she felt a soft whisper brush against her face and she smiled.

  Chapter 20

  Fall 2012, the Krause family farm

  When Kate pulled in the driveway, Trudy was waiting for her on the porch.

  “Where have you been?” she called down to Kate as she exited the car.

  Flashes of her conversation zipped through Kate’s mind and her temper spiked. “None of your business,” she answered, moving around her.

  Trudy grabbed her arm and Kate yanked back. “Don’t touch me,” Kate warned.