She smiled at him. "That's all right. This is plenty cold."
He helped her take another sip, then started to put the water pitcher down on top of the Bible on the nightstand.
"Don't put it there," Wynette said. Then she saw the look in his eye. "I mean, let me get this out of your way." She reached for the Bible, meaning to put it into the drawer of the nightstand, but Duke took it from her first.
"Where'd that come from?" he asked.
"Reverend Sweeney came to visit this morning and left it for me."
"Why? Does he think we can't afford a Bible?"
"Of course not," Wynette said quickly. "He was just being nice."
"Next time you see him, you tell him that when you need a Bible, I'll get you one."
"I'll be sure to. I was going to give him that one back anyway."
Duke nodded, but he put the Bible back on the nightstand and made a point of putting the pitcher right on top of it. "Are they treating you all right? You tell me if they don't."
"They're being real nice."
"They damn well better be. I'm paying them enough."
No matter what happened in private, Duke made sure everybody else treated her the way they should.
"I've been talking to the doctor," he said, looking serious. "We think it would be better if you went ahead and had a— If they gave you a—"
"What, Duke? Is there something else wrong?" She breathed in sharply. "It's not cancer, is it?" Her mama had died from cancer, and her daddy's father had been sick with cancer when he had his heart attack. That meant she had it on both sides.
"No, it's nothing like that."
"It's not—" She couldn't even say AIDS out loud. She'd never slept with anybody but Duke, but she knew Duke had been with other women before they got married, and probably since then, too.
"You're not sick," Duke said, with that edge in his voice that told her she better not interrupt him again. "It's just that we think you ought to get your tubes tied so you don't get pregnant again, not after what happened this time."
"But Dr. Patel said I could get pregnant again in a few months."
"It's not getting pregnant that's the problem. He says you can't carry a child."
"Why not? Why didn't he tell me?"
Duke shrugged. "I guess he didn’t know for sure right off. But he looked at your test results and figured it out after I told him about your family history, the way your sister and your mama lost all those babies."
"Lots of women lose babies," Wynette protested. "I heard on Oprah that half the women in America miscarry. Almost all of them go on to have babies."
"Maybe so, but you can't. There's something wrong with you, otherwise you wouldn't have lost this one just from falling down a couple of steps."
That's what Duke had told Dr. Patel, that she'd fallen. She'd been surprised that he believed it, but Dr. Patel was young and new in town. Besides, Duke had a way of saying things that kept most folks from arguing with him.
He went on. "Anyway, he said we ought to take care of it while you're still here in the hospital. We've already met the deductible, so it won't cost us a penny more than what we owe now."
No more pennies, Wynette thought, but it'd cost her all her babies. "Is he sure?" she asked anxiously. "Can't he do some more tests? Or get a second opinion. Oprah says that you should never have something serious done without getting a second opinion."
"It'd just be a waste of money," Duke said. "You can't carry a child and I'm not about to keep carting you up here to the hospital every time you get yourself knocked up."
"But Duke—"
"Besides, I don't want any children."
"Duke!" she said in a shocked whisper. "You never told me that. When we got married, you said you wanted a house full of kids."
"That was before I saw how much trouble they are. Look at your sister's crew. A man can't hardly hear himself think with those three rug-rats running around. They're loud, and they talk back, and they make the worst mess I've ever seen."
"I can keep kids quiet, Duke—they don't talk back if they're taught not to. And I can keep the house clean. Don't I get it all cleaned up when you have your poker games, even before you get up the next morning?"
There was a glint in Duke's eye, as if he thought she was criticizing him, but he let it go and Wynette relaxed. Then he said, "You can't carry a child anyway, so none of that makes any difference. They've scheduled the surgery for first thing Monday morning. It'll be over with before you know it, and if everything goes the way it's supposed to, you'll be home Tuesday."
"Do we have to do it so soon?"
"It's already been scheduled," he said impatiently. He picked up a clipboard with a bunch of papers that had been lying at the foot of the bed. "You need to sign these."
"What are they?" she said, taking them from him and starting to read the one on top.
"Just sign where I tell you," he said, sticking a ballpoint pen into her hand.
"Oprah says that you should never sign anything without reading it first."
"I don't care what that black bitch says," he said quietly, so nobody passing by could hear. "Just sign it!"
Wynette thought about her sister's children, the two girls and a boy Lynn had carried with no trouble at all, even if she had lost her first baby. And she thought about the trash bag filled with hand-me-down baby clothes that Lynn had given her. It didn't seem right that those clothes would never get worn again. Didn't the Bible say that wasting was a sin?
Then she pictured a little girl limping when she walked, the way Wynette did that time Duke kicked her so hard. She imagined a boy with her daddy's blue eyes, but not hardly being able to tell what color they were because of swelling. Surely God didn't want that to happen. So maybe He didn't want her to have babies. Maybe it was like Reverend Sweeney had said, that this was God's way of being merciful.
She signed the papers.
Duke said, "I've got to give these to the nurse, and then I'm heading out."
"So soon? The nurse said husbands can stay as late as they want to."
"I've already wasted most of the weekend here, and I've got things to do. I have to call old man Crawford to see about getting a substitute for Monday morning, and then I need to get me something to eat. You never did the grocery shopping."
"Will you be back tomorrow?"
"I don't know. It depends."
Wynette wondered if Duke meant to go out drinking with the boys or maybe even with one of the other women she'd always suspected. "But you will be here Monday morning for the operation, won't you?"
"Why the hell would I need a substitute if I wasn't going to be here?"
"I'm so glad," she said, smiling at him.
Only he didn't see it because he was reaching for his ball cap, and muttering, "Maybe Crawford will let me make the time up so I don't have to use any of my vacation time."
"Good night, Duke." But he was already gone.
After the nurse brought her dinner, Wynette watched TV for a little while, but she had to change channels whenever anything with children came on the screen. Then she tried to call her sister, but when there was no answer, she remembered that Lynn and her family had gone to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. Wynette had written the name of the hotel where they were staying on the pad beside the phone at home, but she couldn't remember it and knew that calling Duke would be a waste of time. Even if he was home, he probably wouldn't want her calling Lynn. Maybe it was just as well. By the time Lynn got back Sunday night, visiting hours would be over anyway. She'd have to wait to talk to her after the... Afterward.
Wynette closed her eyes, but she couldn't sleep. She just kept thinking of the way babies smell and the little noises they make. Duke was right about Lynn's children being wild, but her sister wasn't good with children the way Wynette was. It was Wynette who'd babysat the kids at church during services, and watched over the younger cousins at family weddings and such. Lynn had said herself that the only reason her three minded as
well as they did was because of the time Wynette had spent with them before she and Duke got married.
She wriggled in the bed, trying to get comfortable. Maybe Duke would let her spend more time over at Lynn's after she got back home. That would be almost as good as having her own kids, wouldn't it? She rolled over and saw the Bible still sitting on the nightstand. The pitcher of water on top of it had sweated so that there was a ring of water on the black leatherette cover, hiding the words Holy Bible.
Wynette's mama had always told her to never put anything on top of a Bible, not even another book, so she knew she should move the pitcher and wipe off the water before it ruined the cover. She didn't—she just looked at it, watching more droplets form and run down the sides of the pitcher and onto the Bible. She wondered if Reverend Sweeney would be mad at her, or if God Himself would be mad at her. Then she snorted. What had God ever done for her? He'd given her Duke and taken away her babies. Mad at her? Well, damn it, she was mad at Him, too!
"Damn it," she said, but in a whisper, as if lightning would strike if she said it too loud. Nothing happened, not even when she repeated it a minute later. It seemed pretty plain that God wasn't listening to her. Maybe He never had.
She said, "Damn it," once more, this time in a good, strong voice. Then she rolled over and went to sleep, leaving the pitcher to drip onto the Bible.
The next morning, the nurses helped Wynette get up and walk around, and it didn't hurt nearly as bad as she thought it would. It seemed as if it should hurt more to lose a baby. Of course, she'd heard that having tubes tied didn't hurt much at all, and having that done would lose Wynette her babies for good.
Then the nurse asked if she wanted help going down to the chapel on the first floor for what she called nondenominational services. Wynette started to say that she did, but then she remembered that she didn't care about what God wanted anymore. So she said she didn't feel up to it.
The only thing was, that didn't leave her anything to do with herself. Somebody would come in once in a while to check on her, and people came by to deliver meal trays and clean the bathroom, but otherwise, she was left alone. Reverend Sweeney's Bible was still on the nightstand, but Wynette didn't even look at it. Instead she watched TV and dozed all day long.
The door to her room opening woke her late in the afternoon, and she put on a welcoming smile for her husband, but it was Belva who walked into the room.
"Hey there, Belva," she said, not having to fake the smile anymore.
"Hey there, yourself. I brought you something." She held out a tin that was decorated to look like a merry-go-round.
"Isn't that the cutest thing!" Wynette said, delighted.
"No big deal," Belva said. "I was just going to get a bag of kisses, but every time I open one of those bags, I spill the candy all over everywhere, so I thought you might want something to keep them in."
"Thank you, Belva."
"I was afraid I'd missed you. I meant to get by sooner, but I had to go into work after church."
"Actually, I'm going to be here for a couple more days," Wynette said, trying to sound casual about it.
Belva's eyes narrowed. "Did Duke—"
Wynette quickly said, "It's because I'm having surgery tomorrow morning."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, I'm just getting my tubes tied."
"I thought you wanted children."
Wynette looked away, not wanting to talk about her failings. It was embarrassing enough that Duke and Dr. Patel knew there was something wrong with her. "I guess I changed my mind."
That's when Duke walked in. "What's she doing here?" he said to Wynette, glaring at the deputy.
"I'm visiting Wynette," Belva said. "Is that a problem, Cloyd?"
They always talked that way. Duke called Belva Deputy Tucker because he didn't think a woman should be a police officer, and Belva called him Cloyd because she knew that he hated his given name.
"I hear there aren't going to be any little Cloyds," Belva said. "I suppose we should thank the Lord for small favors."
Duke's face changed colors the way it did when he got mad but couldn't do anything about it. "I'd just as soon you didn't make fun of my wife. It's not her fault that her parts aren't right."
Belva turned to Wynette. "Is that true?"
Wynette nodded.
In a much softer voice, Belva said, "I'm sorry, Wynette. Why didn't you say something?"
Wynette shrugged, her throat too tight to talk.
"You're sure there's nothing they can do about it?"
Duke said, "I think the doctor can do his job without your help, Deputy. In fact, I think the whole town would be a lot better off without you sticking your nose into everybody's business."
Belva stepped forward until she was right in Duke's face, and just stared at him while his face got redder. Cloyd leaned closer to her, as if he wanted her to move out of his way, but Belva didn't so much as move a muscle. Wynette could tell from the way her husband was breathing that he wanted to hit Belva something fierce, but he didn't dare, not with her being a deputy. Finally he had to back down, and aimed his glare at Wynette instead.
"What's that?" he asked, thumping the can on her lap.
"Just some candy Belva brought me," Wynette said. "Do you want some?"
"Hell, no," he snapped, picking the can up and putting it on the nightstand, on top of the Bible. "You shouldn't be eating candy anyway."
"The nurses said—" Wynette saw his face darken and said, "You're probably right, Duke. I don't suppose it's good for me."
"I brought you something nice," he said, looking at Belva pointedly as he dropped a heavy book on Wynette's lap.
"It's a Bible," Wynette said, surprised. Covered in white imitation leather, it had a color picture of Jesus on the cover, and gold curlicues and plastic gemstones framing the picture. She'd never seen a such a flashy Bible.
"You can tell Reverend Sweeney that he can just take that cheap copy back," Duke said.
Now Wynette understood. Reverend Sweeney hadn't meant anything by leaving her the Bible, but Duke couldn't stand the idea that somebody might think he couldn't afford one for her. Or maybe he didn't even want her talking to God without knowing what was being said. Still, it was a nice gift, and she said, "Thank you, Duke. This sure is something."
"Yeah, it sure is," Belva said. "You must have had to go all the way to Charlotte to find something that fancy." Only she didn't sound as if she thought "fancy" was a good thing, and Duke clenched his jaw.
"You didn't go to all that trouble, did you, Duke?" Wynette asked, worried that he'd hold it over her if he had.
"Of course not," Duke snapped. "I bought it at the flea market, not that it's any of Deputy Tucker's business."
"A flea market Bible," Belva said. "Why am I not surprised?"
Duke shot Belva a dirty look, but with no way to get the mad out of his system, he reached into his back pocket for his pack of Winstons.
"You can't smoke in here," Belva said with a mean smile. "It's against the law, which means that I'd have to arrest you if you lit up."
"There's laws about police harassment, too, you know," Duke said, shoving the cigarettes back into his pocket, and he stomped out of the room.
"Wynette, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Belva said as soon as he was gone. "You don't have to make up your mind right now. You just had a miscarriage—don't you want to take a few days to think it over?"
"It's all been arranged, Belva."
"Have you talked to your sister? What does she think?"
"I couldn't get her. Besides, it wouldn't make any difference."
"What about Reverend Sweeney? Did you speak to him?"
"I don't think he can help me, Belva. Not with this." She couldn't imagine talking to any man about not being able to carry a baby.
"Listen to me," Belva said, touching Wynette's hand. "You don't have to put up with what Duke does to you. There's services and shelters and people who understand wha
t you're going through. There's places you can get help."
Wynette wanted to believe her, she really did, but she just didn't. She looked down in her lap, and opened the Bible to the front, where they'd put in spaces to record family births. Almost without her realizing it, tears started to roll onto her face and onto the page.
"Oh, Wynette," Belva said, closing the Bible and taking it away. "Why won't you let me help you?"
"Nobody can help me, Belva." From over her friend's shoulder, she saw Duke come back into the room. "You better go."
Belva took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "All right. I'll be back tomorrow to check on you."
Duke said, "That won't be necessary, Deputy. I've told the nurses that I don't want you bothering my wife anymore."
Belva didn't so much as look at him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Wynette." Then she did something kind of peculiar. She started to put Wynette's new Bible on the nightstand, but stopped and looked at the back cover. Then she looked up at Duke with her eyes narrowed before heading for the door.
"Bitch!" Duke said, long before Belva was out of earshot. "She's got no business coming here."
"I like Belva," Wynette said, not willing to let him bad-mouth her friend. "She's always real nice to me."
"Of course she's nice. She's trying to get into your pants."
"Duke!"
"Hell, Wynette, anybody with two eyes can see that she's nothing but a bull dyke. Why do you think I keep telling her to stay away from you?"
Wynette didn't believe it, but she knew better than to argue with Duke.
He stayed around a little while longer, but Wynette suspected it was mostly to make sure Belva didn't come back. She tried to make conversation with him about what else he'd seen at the flea market, but all he wanted to do was watch TV. When the nurse brought in Wynette's dinner tray, he told her he'd see her in the morning, took a handful of candy from her merry-go-round can, and left.
Wynette wasn't all that hungry, but she dutifully ate her food, and when the nurse offered her something to help her sleep, she took that, too. The last thing she wanted was to be up all night thinking.
Two nurses woke her up early the next morning, even earlier than she usually got up to fix Duke's breakfast. They put an IV in her arm and did things to get her ready for the operation. Then they left her alone for a long time, and she wondered why they hadn't just let her sleep the extra half an hour, so she wouldn't worry so much. She knew from Oprah that having tubes tied was a routine procedure, but she was feeling awfully nervous by the time Duke finally showed up, a little while after the time the operation was scheduled for.
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