by Harry Kraus
“How much’d you pay for that?”
She jerked her leg off the glass counter and stared. “I want my ring!”
“Five hundred dollars. I’ll give you five hundred dollars and not a penny more.”
That was a thousand dollars in Brighton. She held out her hand. “I want my ring!”
“I always wanted a tattoo, but I’m afraid of needles.” He handed her the ring.
She turned it over in her hand, looking for the initials, and took a deep breath. It was hers. “No can do,” she said, hoping she’d said it with the right inflection. “I’ll just have to keep it.”
She walked out exhilarated. A thousand dollars! The thought should have made her smile. But instead, she felt a little queasy, almost like she did after riding the octopus at the county fair. She laid her hand over the little lump in her pocket and walked to her Toyota. There she dropped her head against the steering wheel, still gripping the ring through the front of her shorts. The urge to vomit came suddenly, almost before she could swing the door open to lose her stomach’s contents onto the street.
She wiped her mouth with a tissue and tried to spit away the bitter taste on her tongue. She’d always had a weak stomach. She felt every new excitement this way.
She looked at her watch and smiled. Old Jeb had given her a thousand dollars!
She wanted to scream, but the gnawing feeling in her gut reminded her not to get too excited. It was time to go home and fix supper for Billy Ray. She touched her ring one more time and headed for Briary Branch Road.
After supper and feeding and changing Wally, Claire retreated to the front lawn and sat beneath an October-glory maple. She leaned against the trunk, not caring about grass stains or dirt. Instead, she closed her eyes and listened to the chorus of insects.
A few minutes later, Claire opened her eyes to watch the traffic pass at the end of the lane. The day was coming to a close in the Apple Valley. It was time for people to be home, and the swoosh of each passing car seemed to speak an unsettled frenzy.
That’s when she let her obsession invade. She watched the traffic and began again the mental game. Each truck meant she would develop Huntington’s. Each car meant she was free.
After the third truck in a row, she gripped the sides of her blond bangs. “Uggh!”
“It’s easier if you’d just let me trim it for you.” The voice was her mother’s.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“A few seconds.”
Claire squinted and suspected it was longer. She looked back at the road where a car passed west and a truck passed east. “Did you ever have an obsession you couldn’t control? You know, a stupid thought that you know can’t mean anything, and yet you give it significance?”
“Like avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk so you don’t break your mother’s back?”
“Kind of like that.”
“Whatever you do, do not think about a white elephant.”
Claire looked at her mother. “Whatever.”
“All I’m saying is the best way to beat something like that is not head-on.”
Claire understood. “If you try not to think about something, that’s exactly what you’ll think about.”
“Right. Give the obsessions attention, and they’ll grow. The more you fight it, the more likely it is that you’ll think about it again.” She put her hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Ignore it, kiddo, and it will go away.”
“You aren’t a dumb blond, Della.”
She lifted her hair from her collar. “I’m a gray-blond.”
They sat quietly listening to the night sounds before Claire spoke again. “How do I know John will stick with me if I end up like Daddy?”
“You don’t. You’ll never have complete assurance when it comes to people.” She paused. “Oh, I’d bet on John. He’s cut from the right stuff. But if you’re going to put all your trust in someone, don’t choose a man.”
Claire rephrased her concern. “Would you have married Daddy if you knew he would turn out like this?”
The quickness of her mother’s reply was disconcerting. “Absolutely not.”
Then I shouldn’t risk putting John through this hell either.
The shock must have registered on Claire’s face, because her mother’s tone softened and she patted her daughter’s hand. “But that’s why God didn’t let me do the knowin’. He had a plan, and his plan is good, but his plan always involves pain. No one in their right minds would choose a path of pain.”
“You sound like a pessimist.”
“I’m a realist, Claire. Pain is a part of life. We all have it, in one form or another. It helps us grow. In some way we don’t understand, it works out for good, for God’s glory, but no, none of us would choose it.”
Claire nodded numbly. It made sense. She just wasn’t sure she liked it.
She watched four cars pass in a row, and decided to go to bed while she was ahead.
Chapter Twelve
The day she learned she was pregnant was the happiest day Lena could remember. Of course the day Old Jeb brought her the diamond was T a good one, and now that she could look back from where she stood, that day certainly was a predictor of wonderful things to come.
She tried to enumerate them as she stared at the little blue strip on the pregnancy test kit. Billy Ray hadn’t had a drop to drink in over three weeks. He was attending AA regularly, and he’d taken her out last week after work. They’d gone into Brighton and talked about old times and ate barbequed ribs at Richardson’s. She’d felt queasy that day too, but just told herself she was excited about celebrating with Billy Ray. After dinner, he’d even sprung for a new CD of Garth Brooks and played it in the truck on the way home.
She wanted to be a good mother. She wanted to take good care of this baby. She wanted to call Dr. McCall for an appointment soon, so she could start on all the vitamins like her sister Penny had before Lynn was born. Oh, how she wished Penny was close by to share the news. But they rarely talked anymore. Her husband had moved them to California, and Penny didn’t like Billy Ray. She never could get past his rough exterior to see that the core of him was gold.
Oh, she wasn’t as naive as Penny said. She knew Billy Ray wasn’t perfect. But a good man admits his faults and does something about them. And ever since she’d put that shotgun up under his chin, Billy was a changed man. He’d confessed everything, even that he’d beaten his first wife. She knew what a big step that was. Billy Ray was the type of man to keep things inside. But she was committed to him. She could help him through the rough times. She could help him change.
She’d wanted a baby for months, but Billy said they couldn’t afford it, or that she was too young, or that they’d have plenty of time for that after they’d had some fun. But six months ago, he’d told her to stop those old pills, and even threw them in the kitchen trash can himself in a fit of celebration. She thought he was joking, and was sure he’d pull them out again, but he promptly tied a knot in the top of the bag and sent her out with the trash.
He was naked when she came back from the garbage cans. That’s when he said they’d better get on with the task of procreating. She figured that having children wasn’t really Billy Ray’s goal. It was hers. What Billy Ray wanted was lots of practice trying to get the whole baby thing started. But she giggled and went along with it. He could be so sweet when he wanted something.
Six months of trying. It felt like an eternity to Lena, but she was only nineteen. She wouldn’t be like some modern mothers: too old to play baseball with their sons and too tired to sit up late until their baby girl returned from the prom.
Billy Ray would be home in an hour. That would give her enough time to prepare something special to celebrate the news. She washed her face and put on just the essentials, a lip gloss and eyeliner, then put in four matching earrings, the set of little sterling hearts that Billy Ray had given her on their first-month anniversary.
She wished she had some steaks, his favorit
e, but money didn’t allow for too many luxuries like that. She settled on grilled chicken, with a soy sauce, garlic, and parmesan cheese marinade. She made a tossed salad and put on some rice. She wanted to make biscuits, but Billy Ray would eat white bread and wouldn’t care.
The chicken was on the grill when he arrived, and her appearance seemed to lighten his mood a little. She’d counted on him being moody, this being a bowling night and all. He’d gone only once since he’d stopped drinking, and said it nearly drove him nuts. And for once, since he was sober, three-adjective Eddie started getting on his nerves. But tonight, she had news that would make him forget all about ten pins. Billy Ray was going to be a daddy.
She kissed him at the door and pushed him away so she could finish dinner. “There’s time for that later.”
They ate and made small talk. Billy Ray never liked getting too touchy-feely as he called it.
“Larry quit.”
“What?”
“Handed in his resignation today.” He folded a piece of white bread around a blob of strawberry jam. “He said Mason’s machine shop over in Brighton is looking for supervisors for second shift and he gets time and a half for every weekend.”
“So who’s left?”
“Just Allen, Len, Gene, and me on day shift. But one of us will have to cover Larry’s spot and watch the rookies on second.”
“How’s the meat?”
His full mouth was all the answer she really needed. He gave one anyway. “Are you going to kiss me if I smell like garlic?”
“Do we have to kiss?”
It wasn’t the anwer he wanted. “What’s the occasion? Why the fancy dinner?”
“We’re celebrating.”
He raised his eyebrows in a question.
“You’ve been sober over three weeks. That’s a milestone.”
“I told the guys at work that you scared me straight.”
“Billy Ray!”
“Hey, it’s true. I thought you were going to blow my head off!”
She didn’t like his attitude. “Whatever works, I guess.”
“Baby, you know that’s not why.” He dropped his head. “I wasn’t treatin’ you right.” He shook his head and polished off his strawberry jam sandwich. “But what do you expect me to tell the guys? I wanted to stop beatin’ my wife?”
“Billy, stop.” She scooted her chair closer to his along the side of the table. “Let’s not talk about it. That’s behind us. We’re good together . . .” She paused, then added, “. . . if you’re not drinking.”
She leaned forward and stroked his hand. They were rough, strong, used to work. “I’ve got news.” She thought about telling him about the diamond, but thought she’d tell him about the baby first, so if he worried about money, she could always show him that second.
“What’s for dessert?”
“Be serious, Billy Ray.” She sat up straight. “You’re going to be a daddy.”
You would have thought someone had punched him in the stomach. His hand went to his mouth and he nearly choked on the final piece of chicken he was chewing. “What?”
“I’m not kidding. Remember how queasy I’ve been feeling?” She touched her lower abdomen. “I’m pregnant! We’re going to have a baby!”
His face grew sober. He wasn’t smiling like she’d imagined. He didn’t grab her in his arms and spin her around the room smothering her with kisses the way William Raymond would. “Don’t get your hopes up, Lena. Have you had a blood test?”
“No. I bought one of those tests at the pharmacy.”
“Oh, Lena,” he said softly. “That’s just a moneymaker. Those things don’t half work.”
“They do work!” She scooted her chair away from the table. “Why aren’t you happy? I knew something was different inside. I could tell. The test isn’t wrong, Billy Ray. You’re full of it!”
“Slow down, girl.” He held up his hands. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed, that’s all.”
She marched to the bathroom and retrieved the test strip from the trash can. Then, she came out waving it under his nose. “What color is this, Daddy? Read it yourself!”
She sniffed. This special celebration wasn’t turning out so well.
She started reading the side of the box, rattling off percentages of pregnancies detected in the first six weeks, before stopping to look in her husband’s eyes. What did she see there? Fear? Maybe she’d misjudged his reaction. His denial was just a cover for his fear.
She let the cardboard box fall to the floor and put her arms around his neck. “Don’t be afraid, Billy Ray. You’ll be a great dad. You can teach our boy to hunt and—”
“Are you sure about this?”
She planted a kiss on his lips, but he straightened and stared beyond her as if he was processing this latest bit of information.
“Billy Ray, some things a woman just knows. I only got the test kit because my period was so late.”
He shoved her away, sending her hurling over a kitchen chair onto the table. A water glass shattered on the floor as he screamed, “You slut!”
Lena didn’t understand. She struggled to her feet just as he landed another blow to the side of her face, sending her to the floor.
“You spend your days lost in those silly books. Who’s the father?”
“Billy Ray,” she gasped, scrambling from the floor to a point of protection on the other side of the table. “Are you crazy? What’s gotten—”
He took the table and flung it against the wall. Lena screamed and jumped out of the way. “Billy, stop!”
She picked up the base of the broken glass at her feet. Before she could stand up, he had a handful of her hair, yanking her back upright. She used the momentum of his lift as the initial acceleration to shove the ragged glass deep into his left arm. Billy howled and released her hair to grip his arm. Blood quickly oozed from between his fingers.
Free from his grasp, Lena fell to the floor, gasping for breath. But she knew better than to stop. Billy Ray had a wild look in his eyes. It wasn’t fear. It was madness. And if she wanted to survive, she knew she had to move.
She rolled across the floor which was littered with broken tablewear and food. She picked up a fork and sent it airborne in his direction before scrambling to her feet to get to the utensil drawer.
Billy Ray cursed her and started forward, but by some miracle, slipped to one knee on the wet floor. That one second was all she needed. She pulled out a twelve-inch carving knife and waved it in his direction. He lunged forward to stand as she sliced at the front of his shirt.
“What’s wrong with you?” she screamed.
He stood up panting, but moving slowly for the first time since his anger exploded. Perhaps the uncapped rage was over. But what madness had overtaken him?
Lena wouldn’t release the knife. Her knuckles were white around the wooden handle. She jabbed it forward again, directly toward his neck.
He backed away, tugging at a long tear in his shirt, and dripping blood on the linoleum floor.
“Get out!” she yelled. “Get out!”
“This is my house, Lena,” he said through clenched teeth. He backed through the kitchen as she gave him wide berth. “No woman disgraces me. I’ll kill you and your boyfriend!”
He slammed the door, leaving her clenching the knife long after she heard the rumble of his truck fade to silence somewhere in the distance down Briary Branch Road. Then, she sank to the kitchen floor and cried.
There were days when Wally didn’t speak at all and days when for a time, he seemed to make sensible and recognizable speech. He slurred words and drooled, but there were times when he strained hard to communicate. But just what switch in his brain was responsible remained a mystery.
But that didn’t stop his family from talking to him. John did especially well, and would have Wally laughing at his jokes and self-effacing humor. Claire was just coming back down the hall when she heard John finishing up a story. He had pulled a chair up next to Wally’s be
d and was leaning forward, talking in a low voice through the bedrails. The scene evoked images of someone making a deep confession to a priest, unseen on the other side of the screen. Wally’s head was jerking back and forth and his face contorted into one big open smile. It was a laugh without sound, a tear-jerking spasm that happens only when you can’t get another breath to vocalize your laughter.
John concluded quietly, unaware of Claire’s presence. “And talk about needin’ a clean pair of shorts! After that monster dog, I thought I was a goner, but when that redneck unloaded his twelve gauge, I had to check my pulse. I—” He turned and let his mouth stay open for a moment without words. “Oh, hey, baby.”
“Just what kind of story are you telling back here? I thought you were feeding him supper.”
“Oh, we’re done with supper, aren’t we, Wall?” He stood and stretched his hands over his head. “We were just talkin’ guy stuff. Nothing interesting.”
Wally grunted.
Claire shook her head. “Men.”
“What?”
“Nothing. If you’re done, let’s take a walk. I ate too much pie to sit around.”
He shook his head and slapped Wally on his shoulder. “See you, Wall-man.”
“Why don’t guys ever use real names? You’re constantly calling him Wall, the Wall-man, or Wal-Mart. Why not just Wally?”
“It’s a guy thing.” He slapped at her rump. “Don’t worry about it, Claire-Bear.”
Lena scrambled through the house throwing things into a worn canvas suitcase. She emptied her dresser, then started on her closet, not bothering to remove the hangers as she selected her favorite tops. She lifted her prom dress from the closet bar and threw it into a crumpled heap on the bed. Then she shoved her blow-dryer in between a pair of jogging shoes and her flip-flops, and dragged the suitcase to the bathroom, where she brushed everything on the counter on her side of the sink tumbling over the edge into the bag. She pushed the lid against the contents and managed to get the zipper around to the third corner. Lena lifted the suitcase to see that her curling iron had fallen against the commode. She shoved it in her pants pocket and glanced around the den. She wanted to take everything: his guns, the dishes, even Old Jeb, but she knew that was a crazy notion. The important thing was that she needed to get away, and soon, before Billy Ray came back to make up.