by Lisa De Jong
Saying that aloud reminds me of the dream I had in the night. I was holding my baby and she was a perfect little girl. I could see her as clear as day. I grin for the first time in days.
“Okay, baby girl. We’re in this together.”
Before I go to work, I stop by and hug Brenda, avoiding her eyes. She sees my face and knows.
“Oh, Caroline. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’ll tell you everything later, I really will. I have to get to work.”
“I’ll come by your room tonight.” She gives me a tight hug and looks like she’s going to say more but stops herself.
It’s a quiet day at Shelby’s. A few regulars stop in, but I think most everyone is with their family on New Year’s day. We close earlier than usual. I go back to the room wiped out and sleep through the night. In the morning, a note is taped to my door. It’s from Brenda. I must have slept right through her visit.
When I do finally tell her the details of my visit to Tulma, she cries with me. She also says it might not be what I think, but I tell her how he looked at her and she sadly accepts that I’m probably right.
Over the next few weeks, Shelby’s is busy, and it makes the time go much faster. I find myself taking more time with the customers, investing in longer conversation, getting to know people better in one sitting than I have in the previous weeks of waiting on them. It takes my mind off my heartache, and also, I think I’ve accepted that I’m in Bardstown to stay. At least for the time being. And when this baby is born, I’m going to need some allies.
I have a pile of money growing. One day I’ll have a house of my own somewhere. With no history but mine with my baby. I hope it will work here—I like this place. But if not, we’ll search until we do find a place to make it work.
****
The day I kill off my pretend husband, I meet ol’ Dr. Harrison for the first time. He’s been retired for years and besides coming to Shelby’s, seems to stay to himself. No one seems to know exactly how old he is. I’ve heard everything from seventy-five to ninety-two. He’s old enough that everyone tacks that ol’ on the front of his name.
I’ve just told Shelby my horrible news and feel like a lily-livered goat of a person when I tell her I need to keep working that day to stay sane for the baby. She cries more than I do and keeps saying I must be in shock or something. I know I’m going to hell.
Usually Shelby takes care of Dr. Harrison because she’s says he’s an old coot with a toothy bite. She’s in the back when he comes in and I don’t even think about it—I walk right up to Dr. Harrison’s booth to take his order.
“Hello, what can I get for you today?”
He looks up at me as best he can under his huge mound of bushy eyebrows. They’re white as meringue and I can’t take my eyes off them. I’ve never been this close to him before. I come to with him snapping his fingers under my nose.
“Pardon me, what was that?”
“I said, I’d like my reg’lar.”
“All right. Would you mind telling me what that is?” I look at him and smile, holding a pencil over my small tablet.
“Well, I’ve come in here every day for years and I’ve never had to tell anyone my reg’lar.” He huffs and I notice his blue eyes finally, since they’re glaring at me.
“Yes, but this is the first time I’ve waited on you.”
“I know it. Whatcha got against an old coot like me?”
I guess he’s heard his title. I can’t help it, I laugh. And not just a little laugh, but a long, loud hysterical laugh—the kind that comes after you’ve cried far too long. He huffs and blows little Pffts out of his mouth, but as I’m wiping the tears from my eyes and still giggling, I see something shift in his eyes. A softening.
“How far along are you, girl?”
“I’m not sure,” I whisper.
His eyebrows collide in a huge V and I get tickled again. He is the cutest old man I have ever seen.
“Well, I’ve delivered plenty babies in my day and I’d say you’re near ‘bout five months? That sound ‘bout right?”
I hope and pray I’m only five months. With everything that is in me, I wish for that, but I know that I might just be smaller than some.
“Yes, sir,” I answer. “That’s probably right.”
“You and your husband excited ‘bout the baby?” he asks.
Shelby comes up then and says, “That’s okay, honey, I can take over from here.” Her eyes are huge and she tries to shake her head at Dr. Harrison without me seeing but doesn’t know subtle from her backside. She gently shoos me off.
“Hey, I want the girl!” Dr. Harrison scowls at Shelby, and she backs away, looking at me with her doe-eyes.
I smile at her. “He’ll have his regular, please.”
Shelby nods and hustles off to the kitchen.
“Now, what were you sayin’ ‘bout your husband?” he continues.
I bite the inside of my cheek and take a deep breath before answering. “My husband was a soldier and I just got news that he didn’t make it…” Oh God, forgive me, I don’t wanna go to hell.
Dr. Harrison blows a big breath out and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says softly. “So many boys, gone. Generations lost. I lost my boy in the first war…and my beloved grandson in the second.” His eyes get even bluer with the tears that fill them. I reach out and take his hand and give it a squeeze. The gesture seems to shock him. He pats my hand and I let go.
“Thank you, girl,” he says quietly.
“Caroline,” I tell him.
“Thank you, Caroline girl.”
****
He’s my customer from that moment on. And when he comes through the door every day, Shelby excuses me being with him just about as long as he desires because she’s so happy to not have to wait on him anymore. She says I’ve brought out the nice in him, but when she tries to come around and get friendly with him, he pulls out the grouch act again, so she’s given up.
Every time he leaves, I can’t wait to see him again. He makes me laugh and seems genuinely interested in knowing what I think about things. Brenda laughs at all my Dr. Harrison stories, and we both swoon over the way he talks about his wife, Eileen, who passed away twenty years ago. He still talks about her like she’s right there.
“Caroline girl,” he says one Saturday morning, “I brought you something.” He holds up a handful of daisies and hands them to me. “I picked them from my garden just before I came and remembered you saying you loved daisies.”
“Oh, Dr. H. Thank you,” my voice gets caught in my throat and to my embarrassment I get tears in my eyes, “I haven’t been given flowers in a long time.”
Memories threaten to wash me away, but I squelch them down. Every last caramel-skinned one.
“Well, I’ve got a garden full. You should come over for iced tea sometime and pick all the flowers you want.”
“I would love that!” I tell him and mean it with my whole heart.
I’ve missed gardening. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have a yard or the space to grow anything or I’d just miss Miss Greener and home more than I already do. But when I walk into my little place from work, especially when Brenda is working, the time drags on endlessly.
“When would you like to come?” Dr. H asks.
“I’m off tomorrow. After you get home from church maybe?”
He throws his head back and barks out a laugh. We tease each other about our lack of church attendance every chance we get, trying to one-up the other on how non-spiritual we are in a town of spirituals.
“Well, I’ll probably beat you there then, since you seem to hightail it away from the altar when the prayer time comes.” His shoulders shake as he says it.
“I bet I can be at your house before the offering plate has even reached the third row,” I chime in.
“That’s doubtful since I will still be seeing the back of my eyelids at that point.”
“Pfft. You’re an early riser and don’t
you dare deny it.” I pour his third cup of coffee and it’s not even eight o’clock yet.
He looks up at me and beams. “I guess that means I’ll be seein’ ya before nine? I’ll let you make the coffee, and if you stay long enough, we’ll get to that iced tea!”
That afternoon I ask Shelby if I can make a pie after the restaurant closes. She’s fine with me using whatever I want, so I make Dr. Harrison’s two favorite things—coconut cream pie and blackberry cobbler. As I’m rolling out the dough into strips for the cobbler, I think about Ruby and all the times I spent in that kitchen with her at Harriet’s. I miss her so much, my heart physically aches. The tears roll down my nose and I try to catch them before they drip into the blackberry mixture. I finally lean back on the counter and have a good cry.
All of a sudden, the baby gives me a walloping kick. I’ve felt little taps here and there and it never ceases to fill me with wonder—that there really is something alive in me, growing in there. This was no tap, though, this one means business. I press on my stomach where I felt the kick and get another jab. I start laughing, along with the tears.
“Hey, little one. I love you. Everything’s okay. Mama’s gonna be okay. Don’t you worry.” I cover my stomach with both hands and she shifts. “I’m gonna worry about you, not the other way around, so you just settle on down in there, baby girl.” And she does.
****
The next morning I wake up with new purpose. I put on one of the few things that still fits me—it’s time to go get some new things, I’m definitely growing steadily now. I have the desserts set in a box and place it on the front seat next to me, as I head over to Dr. H’s house. I haven’t been much of anywhere besides across the street, so venturing off the only road I know in Bardstown is already an adventure. I look at the little map he drew for me on a napkin and remember he said it would take about twelve minutes to drive to his house. That’s quite a trek around here, where everything is within a couple of minutes, at most. I guess I’d expected it to be closer, since he comes to Shelby’s just about every day in his truck. I take a turn here and there, loving the pretty scenery, when I finally see his house down a long road lined with trees on either side.
Spring has already arrived, far earlier than usual, and it’s fully apparent on Dr. Harrison’s property. He didn’t tell me he lived on a plantation. I clamp my gaping mouth shut and slowly creep down the driveway, taking in the beauty. The brick estate is something out of a storybook. I’ve certainly never been inside such a place. Nellie has told me stories of going through plantations in Louisiana on one of their vacations, but I’ve never seen one up close myself.
Land sakes.
Seeing a place like this I would have expected roses, rather than daisies, and sure enough, they’re blooming in abundance. Peonies, daffodils, tulips, and forsythia are sprinkled throughout, too. Clematis winds over two iron arches on either side of the house. Hydrangeas and roses and even magnolias are everywhere I look.
Once I’ve gathered my senses, I pick up the box and walk toward the front door. Dr. H opens the door before I’ve even knocked.
“Caroline girl! Right on time. I couldn’t wait—I made some coffee without ya!” He hurriedly takes the box out of my arms and peeks in. “Heavens, girl, what have we got here? Did you do all this?”
I bashfully nod and go inside. Oh my goodness, it would take me all day and then some to see all the pretty things in this house.
“Come on, let’s get you inside. I think it’s gonna rain out here pretty soon.” He shuts the door and looks out the window at the clouds. “Have a seat. Well, first, come, let’s get started on these things you made. They look good enough for Jesus.”
And just like that, my nerves disappear.
Chapter 21
Movin’
After that first visit with Dr. H, I go all the time. Every day off and some afternoons when I get off early, I head over and help him in the garden. Or make supper for him. Or read a book while he reads his. Sometimes when his eyes get tired, I’ll read the paper to him. He seems to love me being there just as much as I do, and I feel so much better when I’m around him.
I take Brenda over there once in a while, and she loves it there too. He’s never grouchy with her either. I’m starting to think he just didn’t care for Shelby. He’s taken me through all the rooms now. There are eight large bedrooms, one large kitchen and a smaller one off of the servants’ quarters. Dr. H lives in the servants’ quarters, which still shocks me to no end. I think about it for days after he tells me that. I just can’t believe he’d have all those rooms and stay in the tiny stark room off the kitchen.
“Once the children grew up and moved away, there was no use for all this room. And then when Eileen died…I just didn’t even want to try to stay in the same bedroom any longer. But this home meant everything to my daddy. I don’t want to leave it.”
All three of his children died long ago, even most of his grandchildren. I get the impression he regrets not having a close relationship with his boys or with the rest of his grandchildren. It sounds like he was always working so hard to keep the plantation afloat after his father died, that he missed out on a lot of years with his children. When we talk about his family, he gets sad, so we rarely talk about any of them but Eileen.
I still haven’t gotten the nerve to ask just how old he is, but I’m thinking he has to be over 90.
One night in early April, I’m visiting Dr. H and feeling particularly tired and huge. He asks me to come sit with him. I set the drying towel over the sink ledge and go sit on the couch by his chair. I feel the beginnings of a waddle coming on and I’m trying to avoid it with every step. My back hurts. I worked a long shift at Shelby’s and had already said I’d come see Dr. H before I knew I’d have to work such a grueling day. He hasn’t been in the diner for a few days, feeling a little under the weather. It feels good to sit down. I must let out a huge sigh or something because Dr. H turns to me and chuckles.
“You work too hard, Caroline girl. You’re in the last stretch, aren’t ya? Needin’ to take it more easy now, hear me?”
“I hear ya. I just have to keep workin’ as long as I possibly can.”
Dr. H looks at me with his watery eyes and studies my face and my stomach. “I don’t know why you don’t just come stay here. You know there’s more than enough room.”
He brings this up now at least once every visit. I would love nothing more than to stay here with him, but as long as I’m working, it’s handy to be across the street from the diner. And I don’t know how he’d really feel about having a baby in the house later on. It’s one thing to say that I’m welcome now, and another when there’s a baby crying in the middle of the night. Although as big as this house is, he probably wouldn’t hear a thing.
“You drinkin’ enough water?” he asks.
“Yes, sir, I think so.”
“Taking vitamins?”
“I started once you told me to.”
“What has your doctor said lately about everything? You on schedule and all? You never do tell me what the doctor’s sayin’.” The way he looks at my stomach, I can tell he’s assessing it with his medical eye.
I usually avoid the topic of the doctor and specifics with my due date like it’s the plague, but for some reason, tonight the evasions don’t come quickly for me. I stare back at him and my face crumbles. Shoot, fire, save the matches.
“What is it, dear?” He leans forward in his chair and lays his leathery hand on my arm. His eyes look so concerned, it makes the tears start flowing.
“I never went to the doctor, Dr. H,” I confess.
I put my face in my hands and try to wipe the tears as fast as they’re coming, but there’s no catching them all.
“Child, why ever not?” he asks in alarm. “You’re saying you haven’t been at all? Is it money? I don’t know why you’re fighting me on that.”
I know without looking that his eyebrows are doing that thing I love where they’re all bunched up
in one big fluffy white mess.
“Well, we’re going tomorrow and that’s that. I can call Dr. Mansfield first thing in the morning and he’ll fit you in.” His voice softens. “You’ve already proven you are quite independent, my dear. Let me help you. I don’t know what you’re trying to pr-”
“You know I can’t take it, Dr. H,” I interrupt. “I’m doing fine. I’m saving money even, it’s just-”
The sob gets stuck in my throat and I can’t gulp it away. It comes gushing out.
He gets up and sits next to me on the couch, leaning my head over onto his shoulder. I sit there and cry for I don’t know how long. He pats my head gently and makes soothing sounds until I catch my breath and stop wailing.
“I haven’t been honest with you, Dr. H,” I whisper.
“Oh? Well, I reckon we all have secrets we want to keep,” he says. “But you ought to know, I have a few of my own. Maybe we have some surprises left in us after all?” He laughs. “I’ve lived long enough that I don’t think I have a judgin’ bone in my body. That left, along with my pride, a long, long time ago. Whatever you say here won’t go past these walls.”
I look over at him and pat his hand that rests on my arm. Distractedly, I push along the old man veins on his hand and arm. When I push down, with barely any resistance, the skin indents and stays that way for a few minutes. Slowly, with lots of starts and stops, I tell him my story. Just as when I told Brenda, he doesn’t react like he wants to hang me by the toes when I tell him about loving Isaiah. I have a feeling he knew the story about my husband wasn’t true. Tears slowly roll down his cheeks when I tell him about Les and Leroy.
“I’m scared to know,” I whisper. “I want this baby to be Isaiah’s more than anything, but…I’d rather just not even know. I’m gonna love this baby whether it’s his or not.” I blow my nose in the hankie Dr. H hands me. “Oh, and I’m not quite sixteen, but I will be next month,” I finish. “And that really is everything—pretty much all the secrets I’ve got.”
“Fifteen?” He shakes his head. “Mercy me.”