As they bumped along on the rutted road, she asked, “Whose car is this? I can’t believe someone would let you keep a car overnight. When do you have to give it back?”
Joe drove with his eyes fixed on the road, both hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t. It’s ours.”
“What do you mean, ours?”
“Augie Mathis was getting a new car. He gave us a deal on it.” Joe finally glanced over at Liddie, a grin on his face. “We’re automobile owners, Liddie!”
“What?” she gasped.
“The first in the neighborhood!”
“Oh my,” Minnie said in a very small voice.
The car was theirs? She bit down on her cheek.
“No need to harness up the horse and buggy when you want to go someplace. Besides, it’s economical. We don’t have to feed it. Or water it.”
“Or shovel shit,” Vern interjected.
“That’s a fact,” Joe said. “You can drive it, too, Liddie. I’ll teach you.”
The more Joe talked, the less Liddie heard and the harder she bit on her cheek. Only the coppery taste of blood caused her to unclench her teeth.
When they got back to the house, Vern and Minnie left at once. As Liddie and Joe watched Vern’s wagon disappear down the lane, he draped an arm around her shoulders.
She swatted at his hand and whirled to glare at him, anger pulsing under her skin. “How could you do this without talking to me?”
“We have been talking about how to spend the money.”
“To buy this farm. That’s what we talked about.”
“And we will. It’s taken care of. We sign the papers this week.”
Without warning, the pressures of the past months—another flare-up of her mother’s gout, a new baby, lack of sleep, the war—all came crashing together.
“What did it cost? How did you pay for it? How could you do this?” She peppered him with questions as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
Joe stared at her. “We’ll talk when you calm down.” He swung toward the barn. “I’m going to do chores.”
“Don’t walk away from me!” she yelled, the shrillness of her voice shattering the still afternoon air.
He kept walking as she bored holes in his back with her eyes. Just then, Rose’s cries pierced the air. It was feeding time. Again.
As Liddie turned toward the house, confusion, shock, embarrassment, and anger raged through her. She walked over and kicked the motorcar’s fender, stepped back, and kicked it again. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and headed up the steps. She wished she did not have to see her mother.
In the kitchen, Margretta held the squalling baby on her shoulder, patting her back.
Liddie avoided her mother’s eyes as she reached for Rose.
“Everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine.” Liddie spoke through clenched teeth. She had no privacy. None.
“Hmm.” Margretta picked up her knitting needles. “She’s not going to nurse if you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.” Liddie fumbled with the front of her dress, the buttons defying her words and her fingers.
“If you say so.”
The baby latched on to her breast with a vigor that vindicated Liddie. At least Rose was with her.
“That’s quite a surprise.” Margretta nodded toward the door.
“He bought it.” Liddie struggled to keep her voice even.
“So I gather.”
As Rose suckled, Liddie stroked the baby’s cheek and relaxed in the pleasure of being with her baby. Gradually, the pressure in her breast eased, and she felt a little of the anger she’d been holding drain out, too.
Then her mother said, “I thought you’d put the money on the farm. Getting started on a farm is costly.”
Liddie felt her hackles rise. That was exactly what she had thought, but coming from her mother, the comment felt critical of her as well as of Joe.
“I know getting started on a farm is hard,” Margretta said. “Especially renting. At least with the mortgage you can make your own decisions.”
“Mama.” Liddie held up a hand. “We’re doing fine.”
“I never said you weren’t. Joe works as hard as any man, but he didn’t have anything to start with.”
Liddie looked up sharply. “That’s what’s always mattered, hasn’t it?” she accused her mother. “Not just finding a man, but the right man.” An ache grew in Liddie’s chest. Had Joe heard her mother’s true thoughts the day she gave them the check? If they didn’t have everything right away, did that make him a poor husband? The idea made her mad.
“All G. W. and I ever wanted was for you to be happy. Then I saw how you loved your pictures. I was glad for you.”
“You wanted me to get married. Now I am, and honestly—between cooking and laundry and taking care of the baby—who has time to make pictures?” She switched Rose to her other breast.
Margretta lowered her voice. “I won’t be here forever.”
“Oh, Mama, where did that come from? And what does that even mean? You have years ahead of you.”
“That’s what I always said to my mother.”
Liddie frowned. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Of course not. No one knows the day or the hour.” Margretta brushed Liddie’s question aside. “It’s important, Liddie. You both have to be happy.”
“I am happy.” Liddie prickled.
“All right, then.” Margretta was silent for only a few moments. “Why did he buy the car?”
“I have no idea.”
“Men have their reasons.”
“What reason is there to buy something like that and not talk to me first?”
“You need to talk to him.”
The memory of her standing there in tears, yelling at Joe’s back, made her cringe.
“When the baby’s done, go find him. Talk to him. Take something to eat. Make up.”
Liddie bristled. “I didn’t do anything to make up for!” The baby scrunched up her face and began to cry. “Oh, Rosie, no,” Liddie crooned. “It’s okay. Mommy’s sorry.” She caressed the baby’s cheek and brought her breast back to Rose’s mouth.
“You keep peace whether it’s your fault or not.”
Liddie chewed her lower lip. Was this always to be her role?
After Rose finished nursing, Liddie laid her in the cradle. Though it galled her, she wrapped two pieces of crumb cake in a checkered towel and headed to the barn.
She found him sitting on the feedbox, one hand resting on the back of the yellow tomcat. Joe looked up when he heard the barn door open and then turned away.
A calf stuck its head through the slats of the pen and stretched to lick her hand. She scratched its head. The silence in the barn was thick. “I’m sorry I yelled,” she said.
Joe rubbed his neck, then nudged the cat off the feedbox and slid over to make room. “Sit with me.”
Anger flared under her skin, but she swallowed her pride and edged up onto the feedbox, holding the napkin on her lap, keeping several inches of space between them.
“Why, Joe?”
“Truthfully, I thought you’d like it. A car will make things easier. You want to visit Minnie? You need to get into town? You crank up the car and go.”
“That’s not the point. We agreed my money would go to the farm.” The moment “my money” slipped out of her mouth, she regretted it. “You went to town to buy this farm. You came home with a car.”
“I wanted to do something for you. A surprise.”
“It was that,” she said dryly.
“I ran into Augie at the bank. The car’s used but in fine shape. It’ll last for years. The banker agreed we can roll the cost of the car into the farm mortgage. We’ll only have the one payment, and the payment won’t
be much different than what we pay in rent. This will get us almost a quarter of the way to owning the place outright. We’ll hold some of your money back in the account. A cushion.”
His emphasis on “your money” told her she’d wounded him.
“I still don’t understand. This farm is what we’ve been working for. When we finally get the money, you buy a car?” Liddie’s voice rose.
She stopped, lowered her voice, willed her anger to subside. She straightened the edges of the towel in her lap. “Do you know what we were talking about before you and Vern came back from town?”
He shook his head.
“Taking pictures. Minnie wanted me to take their family picture, and I couldn’t say yes. Because we’ve been saving every cent for the farm, so I don’t have money to buy film, let alone pay for the developing.”
“What made you think you couldn’t take pictures?”
“When we came back from Wyoming, you said I couldn’t take pictures because of the cost.”
“God, Liddie, I didn’t mean you couldn’t take any.” He looked at her, dumbfounded. “Is that why you don’t take pictures anymore?” He shook his head. “I figured you were too busy with the house and the baby.”
Joe bent forward, his elbows on his knees. When he spoke, his voice was so low she strained to hear.
“When I was in Canada, it was just me. If there wasn’t food in the cupboard, I could get another job or bum a meal or go hungry. But now there’s you. And the baby.”
She waited.
“Every day I go out and do the chores, take care of the pigs, the crops, the fences, the barn. It’s what I wanted, what I still want. But then I thought, what if it isn’t enough? What if a day came when I couldn’t take care of you? Then this money drops right into our hands.”
“How does buying a car make any of what you’re saying right?”
“I want you to have everything. I want to give you everything.”
“Oh, Joe.” Liddie nudged him with her shoulder. “I have you. We have Rose. There isn’t anything else to want.” She remembered the crumb cake and unwrapped the napkin. “I brought a peace offering. But I’m afraid it’s smashed.”
“We’ll make peace from the pieces.” Joe didn’t smile. “Do you forgive me?”
Liddie nodded. “Might Augie take his car back?”
Liddie kicked the fender each time she walked by the car on the way to collect eggs or milk the cow. However, the intensity of her kick eased after a week or so. Eventually, she only gave the hood a firm slap with the flat of her hand as she passed.
As much as his buying the car irked her, she had to admit she enjoyed the jaunts they took on nice afternoons. Picnic lunches by the river reminded her of when she lived in Maquoketa. Plus, the pleasure he took in driving that car was so evident she could not stay angry.
Even so, the cost of what he had bought (and she hadn’t) continued to surface in her mind. She compared the cost of gas—sixteen cents a gallon—and the cost of film—fifteen cents for six exposures. Though Joe maintained the car himself; she had to pay to develop film and print pictures. But if he wasn’t concerned about cost, why was she?
Each time he started the car, he talked through the steps out loud. Pull the sparker lever down. Hold the right tire with your right hand; turn the crank with your left. “Don’t ever want to forget that.” He smiled. “Too many fellas get their arms broke when it kicks back.”
Though he offered to let her drive, she refused, content to let him take the driver’s seat. But one day, when Mama and Rose were napping and Joe was working in the field farthest from the house, she walked out to the car.
“You and I, we have to get along,” she said. To her delight, the car started the first time she pulled the crank.
“There!” she said. “That wasn’t so hard.” She almost wished Joe were here to see her success. She climbed into the driver’s seat and put her hands on the wheel. The car vibrated; she tightened her grip. Looking down at the pedals, she reminded herself. Left: go; right: brake; center: reverse.
She released the hand brake and stepped on the left pedal. The car shot forward. Panicking, she yanked the hand brake. The car jolted to a stop. Only then did she think of the brake pedal. Sweat broke out on her palms.
“Don’t be an idiot!” she chided herself. Drying her palms on her skirt, she gripped the wheel again. She released the brake and stepped on the pedal.
Steering in a big circle, she guided the car around the walnut tree, past the barn, past the house. Around and around. She stopped and started until she could do it and still breathe evenly. Then she stopped and looked at the pedals. “You’re going to have to go backward sometime,” she muttered.
Holding the steering wheel in a death grip, she stepped on the reverse pedal. The car lurched back. She stomped on the brake pedal and gasped for breath. She tried again. And again. It took most of an hour, but by then she felt she had a pretty good handle on this driving business.
She steered the car back to where Joe parked it. Though her legs quivered when she finally stood with both feet on solid ground, she gave the fender a friendly pat and strode to the house. She felt as though the world were hers.
“You better take the buggy,” Joe said. “The road’s still soft after that rain.”
“I’ll be fine,” Liddie insisted.
“I could drive you,” he said.
“You have work to get done. You said so.” Liddie buttoned her coat and bundled Rose in a blanket. “Minnie is waiting for us. Ready to go, Mama?”
“She’s a stubborn one, isn’t she?” Margretta whispered to Joe as he helped her to the car.
“I heard that,” Liddie said.
“Get in,” Joe said. “I’ll start her for you.”
She nestled Rose in her mother’s arms. “Honestly, Mama. He wanted me to drive, and then he resists.”
“He wants to take care of you. It’s what husbands do,” Margretta said. “A smart wife lets him.”
“Hmm.” She reached over and adjusted Rose’s blanket.
It took Joe three tries to get the car running.
“I didn’t expect it to be so hard,” Liddie said.
“She was a little cold. If she’s that way in town, get someone to help you.”
She kissed his cheek. “I couldn’t have got her going without you, Joe. Thank you.”
Rose gurgled and waved her arms. “She’s lovely, Liddie,” Mrs. Tinker said with a smile. “I’m so glad you came to visit.”
“I wanted you to see my greatest creation.” While Minnie and her mother shopped, Liddie had come to show off her baby. Sitting in Mrs. Tinker’s front room felt so familiar. “I see you have a new girl.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Tinker lowered her voice. “She does well with the work we have now.”
“Now?”
“With the war on, most women make do rather than making new. Even in the cities, it is considered unseemly to wear fancy new things. It’s more appropriate to tell how you remade one of last season’s dresses.” She poured more tea. “Someday, this war will be over, and women will want new dresses again. Everything comes around.”
“I expect it does.” Liddie nodded. “By the way, when Minnie and I stopped at Becker’s today for a pastry, we found the shop empty.”
“That is a sad situation. It started when they found glass in their flour.”
“We’d heard about that. Did they ever learn who did it?”
“If anyone knew, they didn’t say,” Mrs. Tinker said. “Poor Mrs. Becker was so distressed she was sick in bed for a week.”
“Surely people didn’t really think they’d done it themselves?”
“Some believed it. Some didn’t. But that’s not the worst of it. That same week, Mrs. Becker called a cousin who lives near Davenport. Of course they spoke in German. Well, someone on the
line reported it to the state Council of National Defense. Both women were thrown in jail on charges of sedition.”
“Oh, Mrs. Tinker. Surely no one could believe those two old ladies were plotting against the country.”
A darkness clouded Mrs. Tinker’s eyes. When she spoke, her voice was tight with barely concealed anger. “I like to think the governor didn’t have people like Mrs. Becker in mind when he passed the law making it illegal to speak anything other than English in Iowa.”
After a pause, during which more thoughts crossed her face, she took a careful sip of tea and continued in a more relaxed tone. “Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and they were only in jail overnight. But the damage was done. Mrs. Becker was too embarrassed to wait on customers anymore. One morning, the shop didn’t open, and we learned they’d left town.”
“Maquoketa without Becker’s Bakery.” Liddie sighed. “It was always such a treat to go there. And what will Mrs. Caither do? The Beckers made those pastries for her parties. Or with the war on, is she even having her party this year?”
“Oh yes, Anna is of an age to be interested in young men. Though I expect the party will be more subdued.”
“Can she be so old already?”
“Time passes. The party is an opportunity. With so many young men gone to fight, the mothers are anxious for their daughters’ chances.” Mrs. Tinker’s voice faltered.
“Has something happened?”
Mrs. Tinker shook her head. “No. No. I just worry about my sister’s son.”
“What do you hear from him?”
“Precious little. His last letter came from France. He said he and the other fellows have been training since they arrived. He can’t say more.” Mrs. Tinker squared her shoulders. “We are proud of him.”
“We all are.” Liddie put her hand on Mrs. Tinker’s. “He’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Tinker smiled resolutely. “I know he will.”
Chapter 43
“Where did you . . . ?” Liddie looked at Joe and then back at the camera nestled in her lap amidst wrinkled wrapping paper. A red velvet bow lay on the floor at her feet. “How did you . . . ?”
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