Laurie had said something, and I tried to focus on her words. “What?” I asked.
“I said I’m sure Dr. Driscoll will understand...”
“Have you met Dr. Driscoll? That man’s hard as nails. I’ve only worked one day — not even half a day. He will not keep me on if I don’t pull my weight.”
“Today’s only Wednesday. Do you think you can do this full time? And do you really want to work with someone so heartless?”
“I don’t have a choice.” I couldn’t meet her eyes.
“We always have a choice.”
I shrugged my shoulders and changed the subject. “Were you going to cook breakfast?”
“I thought I’d scramble some eggs, fry some bacon, and make biscuits.”
I gagged at the thought of bacon. I shook my head vehemently. “I can’t eat bacon. I might be able to eat the scrambled eggs.”
“You go lie back down while I cook breakfast. If you hold down your breakfast, maybe I’ll let you go to work.”
I walked over to her and tugged on one of her braids. “Listen at the runt talk!” I was surprised to see tears come to her eyes.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I stroked her back. “What’s wrong, Laurie?”
“William always called me runt.” She swiped at her tears. “I miss him.” She shuddered. “And how he could have married that woman...”
“Maybe he thought he loved her... and, I miss him, too. Him and Michael.”
“You don’t need to dwell on it — the war, I mean. It’s not good for the baby.”
“That’s one reason I need to work, to keep my mind off Michael...” My voice broke.
Laurie pushed me away. “Go lie down now and let me cook.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s much better than runt.” And we both smiled as I did as I was told.
Chapter 19—Friends
The day before, I’d left Michael’s truck at the vet’s office and ridden with Dr. Driscoll. So after breakfast, I walked with Laurie toward her house, planning to ask Uncle Colt if he could take me to work. Marla’s car came by, and she pulled to a stop.
I walked over and leaned in the open window, happy to see her. “Good morning, Marla.”
“Oh, Jay. I heard you were sick. I was coming over to check on you.”
“I’m fine — at least I feel better. But I do need a ride to work. Can you take me?”
“Sure, get in.”
Laurie was already walking away.
I called after her. “Bye, Laurie. I’ll see you later.”
She came to a stop and faced me. “Take it easy today.” Her hazel eyes flashed in the morning sun, and her look was one of sternness.
“I promise.” I went around to the passenger’s side and got in, plastering on a smile. Marla drove past Laurie, and I waved, saying a little prayer for her and for me. I turned to chat with Marla, refusing to dwell on Sylvia, the war, or my persistent sickness.
Marla dropped me off, promising she’d meet me back home later that evening. If Dr. Driscoll was surprised to see me, he didn’t let on. He told me what the plans were for the day, once we were in the truck, on the way. On Wednesdays, he scheduled visits to farms. Today, two farmers had pigs to castrate.
Actually, the job wasn’t as tough on me as the calving the day before had been. The farmers had the pigs penned, ready for the procedure. They would bring me the pigs, and I’d hold them for Dr. Driscoll to castrate. Most sows had farrowed in February, so we didn’t have many of these March litters to deal with.
When Dr. Driscoll finished each castration, I’d swab the area with mercurochrome.
Thankfully, I was even able to hold down a few saltine crackers and cheese at lunch. We finished early, around three, and the doctor dismissed me.
Although I had an aching back and feet, I forced myself to go to the grocery store to stock up on lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, ginger, and local honey. I bought a few other supplies and then drove over to see Momma and Zeke. Zeke was out with friends, but Momma readily agreed to move back to the farm. When Zeke came in and heard Momma had agreed, it was easy to persuade him. We made plans. I wanted to build a small addition, since I had taken over Momma’s old room. I was sure it would be best if she had a private place to retreat to — I knew it would be the best solution for me.
The construction of the room would take a couple of weeks, at least. I had already talked to Mr. Paul and Mr. Aaron — they were both such good carpenters, and Uncle Colt also said he would help. It would just be a matter of me getting the materials and them finding the time.
Was I doing the right thing, letting Momma move back? I shrugged. Only time would tell. I had no idea what to do about Sylvia, so I simply put her out of my mind, planning to deal with the problem later.
The sun was setting by the time I pulled into the yard and parked the old truck. Marla’s car was there and light streamed from the windows. We still did not have electricity out this far in the country. It was rumored we would be getting it in a year or so, unless the war stopped the construction of the power plant. Of course, the war might actually accomplish the opposite and expedite the process.
Marla, wearing a navy blue dress with a spattering of flowers, came out on the porch — she must have heard the truck — and Laurie followed her. Concern shone on both their faces.
Laurie looked me up and down and must have decided I wasn’t about to fall. She simply took the box of groceries from me and carried it in.
I linked arms with Marla. “I’m so glad you came over.”
“I had to come see how you were doing... you were so pale this morning.”
“I feel better, just exhausted.”
“Well, no wonder, in your condition...” She put a hand to her mouth.
She knew, and only one person could have told her. “Laurie!”
Laurie glanced over her shoulder. “You can’t keep something like that secret.”
Marla patted my arm. “Don’t blame Laurie. I dragged it out of her.”
I gritted my teeth. “Right.”
Marla laughed and hearing her laughter somehow made me feel better. I didn’t mind if Marla knew. As everyone kept reminding me, soon the whole town would know.
I caught a whiff of baking bread, and for once, my stomach didn’t object. I stopped as I stepped into the kitchen. My mouth gaped open as I stared around. The girls had been busy. I whirled around, taking in the sights. Fresh curtains covered the windows. The furniture, that had been stored in the barn, was now back... some of it rearranged... but still it looked like home, my old home, welcoming me, comforting me. A mixture of emotions struggled within — nostalgia, happiness, but also guilt that they had done so much work, and I hadn’t helped. This had taken a lot of time. Marla couldn’t have done it by herself.
I pointed my finger accusingly at Laurie. “Did you skip school again?”
She faced Marla and jerked her thumb at me. “How did you put up with her obsession with school? Jeeze.”
I caught Laurie’s arm, and she turned to face me. “Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” I said firmly.
“What?” Her brows were drawn down in confusion, and she looked to Marla for help.
Marla’s face registered sympathy. “I think Jay sees ‘Jeeze’ as a euphemism for ‘Jesus.’”
A look of incredulity passed over Laurie’s face. “Jeeze!” Her face reddened. “Sorry... do you mind giving me a list of words I can say in your presence?”
I could feel the heat rise in my own face. “Sorry, Laurie. And I don’t have a right to say anything. I had a little run-in with Sylvia yesterday and said some things I shouldn’t have.”
Laurie’s eyes brightened. “What happened? What did you say?”
I started to sink down on the kitchen chair, to tell them at least part of the story, but Laurie grabbed my arm. “We just cleaned those chairs. We pulled the furniture out of the barn and scrubbed it down with lye soap. And we toted in buckets of w
ater that we poured on the floors and walls and scrubbed with sage brooms. Do not get anything dirty.”
I looked down at my dirty overalls and dusty shoes. “Sorry and thanks. I appreciate all y’all have done.” The old table, the one with the cigarette burn, was there, along with the chairs Poppa had made. I ran my hand over the worn wood. “Everything looks great.”
The cleaning had left the house smelling fresh, and the queasiness I had felt off and on all day dissipated.
“And we cooked supper.” Marla lifted the lid off a pot on the stove and the smell of simmering dumplings wafted through the air.
My stomach growled. I was actually hungry. “When do we eat?”
“Not until you clean up.” Laurie had her hands on her hips. “We filled the tub for you, in the bedroom. The water’s probably cooled off by now. You’re late.” She narrowed her eyes at me accusingly.
I had to laugh. “I had to get groceries, and I went by to see Momma and Zeke. Let me wash off, and then we can talk.”
Marla eyed me anxiously. “I can heat up some more water...”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” They had done so much already. I went into the bedroom and closed the door. The kerosene lamp had been lit in here, and my night clothes were lying on the bed. My heart constricted at their kindness. I hurriedly stripped off the blood-stained overalls and my other clothes and stepped in the tub. The water was lukewarm, actually the perfect temperature. I sank into the water, letting the stress wash away with the dirt and smell of the pigs.
Chapter 20—Friendship
By the time I got back to the kitchen, I felt almost like my old self.
I couldn’t help but tease Laurie. “Do I have your permission to sit?”
“Where did you put your dirty clothes?” she asked.
“Oops. I left them on the floor.” I started back to the bedroom, but she waved me back.
“Sit. I’ll get them for you.”
Bowls and plates of food were on the table, and it had been set. Marla was pouring tea — iced tea. My eyes widened. “Marla, where did you get ice from?”
“Don’t get upset with me. I ordered a block of ice.”
“But I don’t have an icebox.”
“You do now.”
“Marla, I can’t afford an icebox, especially not now.”
“The icebox is a gift. I bought the kind that can be converted, if we ever get electricity out here. For now, I’ve paid the iceman to bring you ice once a week.”
“I can’t let you pay for that...”
“It’s my gift to you. What good is money if you can’t help out your friends? And you’ll pay me back one day.”
Laurie came through, carrying my overalls, the stench from the hogs drifting through the air.
“I’m going to let these air out on the front porch,” she said.
I nodded and waited until she came back in before I started to tell them about Sylvia. “I have a problem...”
Laurie held up a hand. “Can we eat first? I’m starving.”
“Sure. It can wait.”
They both took a seat, and we held hands while Marla said grace. I had thought I could eat, and I did manage to get down a few bites before my stomach objected. Marla sliced off a piece of freshly baked bread and slathered it with butter, urging me to eat.
It was delicious and a welcome change from my usual fare of biscuits or cornbread. I’d have to get her to teach me how to make it. When I finished, the girls shooed me into the sitting room while they cleaned up the kitchen. The room was chilly, and I made a small fire in the fireplace. I blew out the lantern, preferring to watch the flames flickering in the dark.
In a few minutes, Marla and Laurie joined me. Laurie rubbed her hands together, whether warming them by the fire or in anticipation of the story about Sylvia, I didn’t know.
I had decided to tell them everything. They were my two best friends. If I couldn’t tell them, whom could I tell?
I cleared my throat. “Marla, I don’t know if you know this...” I shot a glance at Laurie. “Sylvia is pregnant.”
Marla nodded her head, her golden hair shimmering in the light from the fire. “Yes, I know.” Her voice was calm, soothing, encouraging me to continue.
“Sylvia told me Michael is the father. And I’m beginning to believe her.”
Both Laurie and Marla gasped. And then, inexplicably, Laurie laughed, shaking her head.
“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny.”
Laurie studied me, her eyes darting back and forth, as if she watched a ping pong match. “Why do you think Michael is the father of Sylvia’s baby?”
“Why? Because she told me!”
Laurie laughed. “There you go! That proves it’s not true. Sylvia would rather tell a lie than the truth when the truth would serve her better.”
“Just because she lies, doesn’t mean she’s lying this time,” I said.
Marla shook her head at me as if she was deeply disappointed. “Have you talked to Michael about this?”
“No...”
“Talk to him. Trust your husband, not some floozy.” Laurie said.
I pulled both legs up in the chair, sitting Indian style, pondering their words. Why did I believe Sylvia? Why hadn’t I given Michael a chance to explain? Had living with Momma caused me to not trust anyone?
Laurie looked at me. “Never understood how you can sit like that.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s easy. So, you’ve made up your mind pretty fast about Sylvia.”
Laurie’s eyes flicked to Marla and back to me. “Anyone can see what kind of person she is... except William and you.”
“I know what she’s like, believe me.”
“But you take her word at face value. Phtt. You are a lot like William.”
I started to protest and then realized she was probably right. “Why do you think William married her?”
Laurie watched the flickering flames for a second. “William has a good heart. He felt sorry for her... and she probably conned him, or he allowed himself to be conned.”
“So, you don’t think... William may have... Y’all think it’s William’s baby?”
“No,” Marla and Laurie said together.
“William...” Laurie’s ears turned bright red, and she cleared her throat. “William would not have sex before marriage.” She cast her eyes down, the red creeping into her cheeks.
I pressed her. “Why do you say that?”
She glanced at me through her lashes. “Because that’s the way Momma taught us, like your poppa taught you. William does not break rules... not usually, anyway.”
I nodded my head. “That’s true.”
Laurie made a twirling motion. “Sylvia’s one of them people always stirring up stink... not happy unless she’s got a stick in manure.”
“And the more you stir it...”
“... the worse it smells. Can’t understand people wanting to cause problems.” She shook her head at me. “What do you want, Jay? To help keep the manure stirred? Doesn’t the Bible tell us to be peacemakers? That means no stirring!”
I laughed. Marla rose and stretched. “I need to get home.”
Laurie and I both stood. Their friendship meant so much to me! I threw my arms around Marla’s neck.
I blinked back the tears when I thought of all they had done. “Thank you so much! You and Laurie are spoiling me.”
She smiled. “Nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
I went with her, out to the car, with her protesting. “You don’t need to walk me out. You need your rest.”
“I have all night to rest.” The air was cool, and I shivered, wrapping my arms around me.
“We’ll get together later and talk this over. We can’t let Sylvia get away with this.”
I nodded my head. “I don’t know what to do...”
“Right now, trust God. He’ll get you through it.” She gave me another quick hug. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I watched her drive away and then went back in. Laurie had the covers pulled back.
“Laurie!” I exclaimed. “You’ve already done so much for me...”
“What? I only pulled the covers back.” She looked at me through narrowed eyes, challenging me to say more.
“Well, are you going to spend the night?”
“If you’re okay...” Here she paused and studied me as if I were an insect on a pin. “I reckon I’d better get going. I haven’t been home much, since last night.”
“Yes, you need to get back. I’ll be fine.”
“You do look better...”
I shooed her toward the door. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
“Shoot...” Her eyes widened. “Is that one of the words you don’t want me to say?”
I put my arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. I’m being hypercritical.”
“What?”
“Too harsh on you. I’m sorry, Laurie.”
“That’s okay, Jay. I’ll come by tomorrow and bring you some supper.”
“Sounds great. Do you need me to drive you home?” I asked again.
“Shoot no.” A big grin split her face. “I’ve been walking these dusty roads my whole life. I ain’t scared of nothing.”
I tried to hide my smile. She sounded so much like the twelve-year-old who hit the ditch when Dan rode up on his horse.
“Well, watch for snakes.” It wasn’t likely any would be out since the weather was so much cooler.
“I will. ’Night.” She raised a hand and then she was gone, skipping like a schoolgirl.
Well, she was a schoolgirl. Sure, a senior, but still just a schoolgirl.
But all she had done for me... she was being responsible and caring... maybe not about school, but about the things that mattered.
I went in, locked the door securely, and got out pen and paper, writing Michael a long, loving letter. I would trust him until I had reason not to.
When I climbed into bed, my last coherent thought was a prayer to God, thanking him for my family and my friends.
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