Too Much of a Good Thing

by J. J. Murray

  It’s as if I’ve been baptized again.

  Much later (and much warmer) in front of the fire, my head resting on Joe’s chest, I think about those old men and women, who are still together after all those years, fifty, maybe even sixty years. There’s something about the water in Aylen Lake, all right. Something holy.

  I’ll bet God takes baths up here on His vacations, too.

  71

  Joe

  My parents told me they played Monopoly on their wedding night, Mom winning and Dad stewing ... and they’ve lasted forty-six years.

  Shawna and I haven’t even opened a single pack of cards.

  I wonder how long we’ll last ...

  We watch every sunset and a few sunrises, the ones we’re awake for. We cruise the lake in the Charlenor. We bathe. We cook simple meals for two. We even take the rental car down a dirt road to the west end of Aylen, parking and hiking to Wilkins Lake. So many colors. Just the two of us walking hand in hand through the woods, Shawna worrying about wolves and bears. We find moose tracks, collect more huge pinecones for our own fireplace mantel back in Roanoke, holding each other as if we’re the only two people in the world. And standing on the shoreline of Wilkins Lake, the mountains and rocks perfectly mirrored in the lake, we are the only two people on earth.

  “What are you thinking about?” Shawna asks.

  “Just you.”

  I get a kiss for that one.

  “This place cleanses the soul, Joe,” she says, huddling closer to me. “We will come up every year, even if it’s just the two of us.” She laughs. “Especially if it’s just the two of us.”

  I rub her stomach. “Which won’t happen for eighteen years or more, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  What were we thinking? Shawna is convinced she’s pregnant, and I don’t doubt her. She says her body is sending her messages that there’s a child inside her waiting to be born. And all this thinking about Shawn Joe (or Joshawna) gets me thinking once again about my parents taking care of six kids back in Roanoke.

  “Do you think the kids miss us?” I ask.

  “I hope they do.” She turns to me, draping her arms around my neck. “You have given me a whole new set of memories, Joe Murphy. Thank you.”

  “Same here, Shawna Murphy. Thanks.”

  She buries a cold nose into my neck. “Do we have to go back? I want to make some more memories.”

  “I wish we could stay here forever.”

  “Me, too. I’m going to be so sad to leave.”

  I hold her tightly, kissing her soft ears. “But another adventure awaits,” I whisper.

  “I know.” She takes my hands, and we swing them together like teenaged lovers. “Um, when we get back I’ll, uh, buy a test to make sure that I’m pregnant, but how should we break it to the kids? A family meeting?”

  I blink rapidly. “Those don’t always go over so well.”

  “Maybe the two of us can run one just fine,” she says.

  “It might cause some pain, but it will get feelings out in the open.”

  She smiles. “You remember that?”

  “I remember everything about you,” I say. “I think I have every square inch of your body mapped.”

  “No, you haven’t. There are a few places I want you to visit tonight.”

  Yes! “We better get back, then.”

  We walk through the woods again, and this time Shawna doesn’t jump at every stump. “Okay,” she says, “who’ll be the happiest about the new baby?”

  I think a moment. “Toni. She won’t be the baby anymore.” “That’s what I was thinking, too. And she’ll have a little sister or brother to boss around.” She stops and bumps her forehead against my chest. “But Crystal is going to have a problem with it.”

  “Maybe she’ll surprise us,” I say. And I hope I’m right.

  “I know her. She’s going to have a problem with it because she can.”

  72

  Shawna

  And baby makes seven.

  Or more, if Joe and the ladies at the shivery are right. I hope he isn’t, but if it’s God’s will ...

  God will just have to help me take care of them.

  At least I’ll have several babysitters—who I don’t have to pay—to choose from so Joe and I can go out once in a blue moon.

  If the tester in my hand is correct ... it’s official. I am about to become a twice-married mother of four and stepmother to three. A positive test. Hmm. Lord, You obviously want this child to join us, but I was just getting back into the swing of things in bed with Joe. Now I’m going to balloon up and not be as desirable. Joe assures me that we will always be able to, um, cook. We’ll just have to turn out all the lights after the fifth month.

  I go immediately into our bedroom and begin nesting, moving furniture around to make room for a crib. Joe, the pack rat, has already located Jimmy’s crib in the basement, saying that it will need a little work. He wants to bring it upstairs and let the kids discover the news on their own—the man really doesn’t like family meetings—but I don’t want that. We have to treat them like the little adults that they are. But we’ll feed them first. Maybe happy stomachs will give them happy thoughts.

  At our first full family meeting after more magic meatloaf than I have ever cooked before (I may have to start calling it a “magic meat-log”), we sit around the kitchen table on benches Kaz found at a yard sale. They are almost identical to the ones up on the screened porch at Aylen. But we’re not having the family meeting yet because we’re waiting for Crystal to get off work.

  Since I hate to waste any time, especially when the kitchen needs work—and it always needs work—I point at the chore list, one I made and intend for them to keep.

  “But we’re having a family—” Jimmy starts to say, but I stop him with a stare. “Okay, okay.”

  “Go,” I say, and I watch them do what I taught them yesterday, my first full day back from Canada—and my first full day as their mama.

  The dirty dishes already stacked in the left sink, Rose puts in the drain plug, turns on the hot water, and pours in the dish soap. Junior uses the dishrag to wipe off the counters before laying out five dish towels. As soon as Rose washes an item, Junior will rinse it, laying it on those towels. We will have no broken glass or plates in this house. Joey will dry them while Jimmy sweeps the floor and Toni wipes off the table.

  “Uh-uh, Jimmy,” I say, pointing to his feet. “Take ’em off.”

  Jimmy looks at Joe for help, but he’s not going to get any. Jimmy takes off his shoes.

  “And the socks,” I say. You cannot properly sweep a kitchen floor with shoes or socks on. You have to be able to feel the crumbs.

  We watch the assembly line cranking along, when the doorbell rings.

  “I wish she’d just come in,” Joe says. “It’s her house, too.”

  Joe answers the door, and Crystal moves in, looking so tired.

  “You look beat,” I say.

  She sits at the table, little circles under her eyes. “The Christmas season has begun.”

  And it’s barely October. Those stores should be ashamed of themselves.

  Crystal watches her siblings making my kitchen spotless enough to pass a health inspection. “I got here at the right time,” she says.

  “You could help Joey put some of the dishes away,” Junior suggests.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “She’s a working girl. She’s had a long day.” And I want her in as good a mood as possible for our news.

  After I check thoroughly for the least speck of crumb and the tiniest drip of goo, I pronounce the kitchen “acceptable.”

  I don’t want to build them up too much. They actually do a fantastic job. Having more kids comes in handy sometimes.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Joe says to start the meeting,

  “we have an announcement. We are going to have a new addition to the house.”

  “We’re building onto the house?” Jimmy asks.

  “Anothe
r bedroom?” Rose asks.

  “A game room?” Junior asks.

  We should have scripted this. “By ‘addition,’ your father means ... another child.”

  Silence.

  Joe told me about the mantel clock, and it’s clicking loud and clear right now.

  “I am pregnant,” I say with a smile, “and I am due in June.”

  More silence. A second ago they couldn’t shut up.

  “So,” I say, “what do y’all think about that?” I hear Crystal panting and turn toward her. “Crystal, do you have something to say?”

  “Did you mean to?” Crystal asks.

  What a question! “Yes. We meant to.”

  “At your age?” Crystal asks.

  Two mean questions in a row! “Girl, I’m not yet forty. Plenty of women are having children at my age.”

  “But the complications increase the older you get,” Crystal says.

  I look at the rest of the kids, who obviously don’t know what to say. “Then y’all will just have to take extraspecial care of me, okay?”

  “I’ll help you, Mommy,” Toni says.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” I say. I can always count on Toni.

  “But how,” Crystal asks, “how can you all even afford to have another baby?”

  This is the ultimate unanswered question. I look to Joe for help.

  “Yes, it’s going to be tight, but it won’t be crowded,” Joe says, not even addressing Crystal’s question. “The baby will stay with us in our room.”

  “That’s not what I asked you,” Crystal says.

  Joe sighs. “As for our financial situation, it’s going to be a little different for a while.”

  “How different?” Rose asks.

  Uh-oh. Two children are fussing with Joe, but at least Rose had modified her Goth look since her return, wearing jeans with dark T-shirts and those red ballet slippers.

  “Well, Shawna and I are going to level with you,” Joe says. “We’ve decided that there will be no secrets in this house, especially when it comes to finances.”

  I am totally against this. I don’t believe children should have to know all the gory financial details. Joe, though, was raised a lot differently. “I want you two to know the worst so you can behave your best,” Kaz had told him and his brother when they were old enough to understand money. In a way, I guess, that’s good, because Joe is a financial whiz—except for his credit cards. I have one I use only for emergencies, and somehow he keeps four maxed out. As a concession to me, we are going to spare the kids the credit card debt, because at the present rate of repayment (we’re only paying the minimums), we’ll be paying on those cards for about forty years.

  Joe pulls out a piece of paper listing most of our assets and liabilities. It was so scary making that list because the assets are so few and the liabilities so many, especially with Junior and Rose going off to college this time next year and Joey following the year after with, hopefully, Crystal going to Virginia Western or a college or university someday ... Four kids in college at the same time.

  I am praying that someone goes into the military! But actually, with what’s happening in the world, particularly the Middle East, I don’t want that at all.

  “First, the good news,” Joe says.

  I am against this order, too. Why not end the meeting with the good news?

  “We’ve paid off the van and Joey’s and Junior’s orthodontist bills,” Joe says.

  They have perfect teeth now, but we’re still paying on them. I’m lucky Crystal’s teeth were fine, but Toni’s are starting to scare me, one tooth seeming to grow behind the other.

  “Both Shawna and I make enough to meet most of our long-term bills and debts, and we should get a nice tax refund this spring.”

  How nice, we’re not sure, but it has to be a chunk of change with all these kids.

  “On the other hand,” Joe says, shifting in his seat, “we have college funds to contribute to including the baby’s.” He pauses for anyone to argue. No one does. “Everyone here is going to college. Everyone.”

  And Joe said it just like Rodney had to me all those years ago. Maybe there’s a “go-to-college” gene in all good men.

  “We have a mortgage on this house,” he says. “We may have to refinance that mortgage to make sure we meet all our ends.”

  I am checking offers daily online. It’s all so confusing that even Joe scratches his head.

  “And as you know,” he says with a sigh, “we will have five drivers to cover under our insurance.”

  Luckily we don’t have enough vehicles to go around, but I’m sure they’ll be some fussing about who can drive and when. We’ve already upped the collision deductibles on the van and Crystal’s Sentra. We will be doing a lot of praying while we drive.

  “We don’t have enough money for another vehicle right now,” Joe says.

  I watch Junior’s and Joey’s shoulders sag slightly. Rose just shakes her head.

  “Our food bills,” Joe continues, “have become legendary, despite our judicious use of coupons and finding all the sales.”

  We have to fill two carts every week just to feed them. I feel like a train conductor at Kroger and Food Lion.

  “All of you are still growing—”

  “I’m not,” Rose interrupts.

  I have to say something. “You two know what he means. Buying clothes for y’all is a backbreaker. Y’all are especially hard on shoes.”

  Joe takes a deep breath. “We are going to need your help to make it through.”

  More silence. The clock ticks.

  “Um, Daddy, what do you mean by that?” Rose asks.

  I sigh because this is the hardest part.

  “We’re going to need each of you to contribute in some way,” Joe says.

  Rose’s eyes pop. “Dad, this is my senior year. Junior’s, too. Are you saying that we’ll have to get jobs?”

  “And I have my own bills,” Crystal says. “You can’t expect me to set aside money for this house, too.”

  I can’t believe this child, saying these things after we had just paid for her half of their September rent. So ungrateful.

  “Just hear me out, okay?” Joe asks. “Sometimes contribution means other things, other more important things.” Joe looks to me, but I look away because I can’t soften any of this any easier than he can. “Here’s the deal. We’re all going to have to make some sacrifices to save every penny we can. Shawna and I will be working longer hours and taking fewer or no vacation days so we can both be off when the baby’s born.”

  I am praying for no complications, too. I will have to work at least six days a week through the seventh month of this pregnancy, the eighth month if the Lord lets me.

  “With us being away from the house so much,” Joe says, “you all will have to cook for each other, clean for each other, do the laundry for each other, and take care of each other.”

  I glance at Crystal. She sure looks smug. Joe has just given her a list of all the things she won’t have to do.

  “From now on,” I say, “if your shoes fit and aren’t falling off your feet, you will wear them. No new shoes or clothing at least until Christmas. We can manage with whatever you have in your closets and drawers and hand-me-downs if necessary.”

  Oh, God, I hate saying this since I lived in hand-me-downs from my cousins for years.

  “You boys share most of your clothes now as it is,” Joe says, “so it shouldn’t be a hardship.”

  The real hardship is washing and ironing them. We will have to do an average of two loads a day, everyone pitching in, but only Rose, Junior, and I are qualified—or allowed—to iron them. I plan to teach Joey in the hopes that Joey can teach his father. I tried up at Aylen and gave up after Joe put more wrinkles in a T-shirt than were there before.

  “I can’t believe this,” Rose says.

  “Yeah,” Crystal adds, “didn’t you two consider this before you got married?”

  To be truthful ... no. We knew it would
be tight, but we didn’t have all the numbers then. The numbers in front of us now are scary, and we have to do something to make them less scary.

  “We knew it would be difficult at first,” Joe says, “but if we all work together, it will work out.”

  “I want to help,” Toni says.

  I smile at her. “Thank you, Toni.”

  “Mama, how is she going to help?” Crystal asks.

  “By trying not to grow,” I say, and the boys laugh. The girls don’t even move. “I’m kidding, Toni, but ... Listen, like Crystal said, I am a bit old—just a bit, now—a bit old to have a baby. There may be complications, and I may not be able to work as long as I want to. And Joe and I both agree that if you older ones do decide to get jobs—”

  “You mean,” Rose interrupts, “that we don’t have to get jobs?”

  “No,” I say, and Joe nods. “It’s strictly voluntary. If you do get jobs, that money is yours to do whatever you want with it. Joe and I are going to provide the basic necessities. If you want to keep or get your own cell phones, for example, you’ll have to earn the money to pay for them.”

  “Our contract with Verizon ends in December,” Joe says, “and we do not intend to renew it.”

  And this will save us close to one thousand dollars a year for surplus phones and charges.

  Rose is still mad. “How am I going to get any calls in this house? If I didn’t have my own cell phone, I wouldn’t get a single call.”

  That is so true. Joey has started talking to a nice Hispanic girl named Alexa, and Junior and Amina are still going strong. A little boy keeps calling Toni, too, though after the last time I talked to him, I doubt he’ll be calling her back. I was, well, a little blunt, saying, “Don’t call my daughter! She’s only nine!” Jimmy is probably the only one who gets no calls, but as handsome as he’s becoming, it won’t be long.

  “Rose, you are just going to have to find other ways to communicate.” Joe smiles at me. “E-mail, for instance. There’s a computer in each of your rooms, and you will all still have access to the Internet.”

  Joe, Junior, and Joey have rigged the whole house as a wireless network, so no matter where I am, I can get on the Internet, even in the kitchen. Don’t ask me how it works. Joey tried to explain it to me, and he lost me when he said “cable modem,” “wireless router,” and “USB network adapter” in the same sentence.