The Seventh Mother

by Sherri Wood Emmons

  “All right,” he said. “But if you get tired, you take a break. No arguments.” He raised his hand as I opened my mouth. “You get tired, you sit down. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir!” I saluted him like a soldier would a drill sergeant.

  He shook his head and walked back into the kitchen.

  “Have ya’ll thought about names yet?” Resa asked as she filled a saltshaker on a table.

  “Not really. We just found out a couple weeks ago.”

  “Naming is the fun part. I had all kinds of names I liked when I was pregnant. I liked Caroline and Lorelei and Madelyn for girls. But Earl didn’t like any of them. He’s kind of particular about the naming.”

  I smiled. Resa’s husband was a quiet, easygoing man with a soft voice and a gentle grin. I couldn’t imagine him being particular about much of anything.

  “When you’re ready,” she continued, “the mission store has lots of maternity clothes, real good prices. I got most everything there. St. Vincent’s, you know it? It’s on Central. Oh, and Fabulous Finds has good stuff, too. I’ll take you sometime if we ever get a day off together.”

  “Thanks, Resa.”

  “Like I said, I’ve done it four times. You got questions, you just ask.”

  “Um . . . actually,” I stammered, feeling myself start to blush. “When you were pregnant, did you and Earl . . . did you, I mean . . .”

  “Did we what?” She looked confused.

  “Did you still have sex?” It came out almost in a whisper.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, laughing. “We had sex right up till the day Sam was born. In fact, I think that’s what finally started my labor. I was past due with him.”

  “So, Earl still wanted to?”

  “Honey, Earl always wants to. I think I could weigh eight hundred pounds and be on a respirator, and he’d still want to jump my bones.”

  She paused and then asked, “Don’t Brannon want to?”

  “Not since he found out I was pregnant,” I said, my cheeks burning. “It’s like he’s afraid he’ll hurt the baby.”

  “Some men are like that, I guess. Not my Earl, of course. Lord knows there’s been times I wish he would lay off, but he’s always ready to go. But some men don’t like sex when their wives are pregnant.”

  She reached for another saltshaker and laughed again.

  “What you need, darlin’, is a BOB.”

  I stared at her, not understanding.

  “A battery-operated boyfriend,” she said, grinning at my red cheeks. “It don’t talk back, it just hums.”

  My eyes widened and I knew I looked like an idiot.

  “Brannon would kill me if I came home with a . . . a vibrator.”

  “Not if he don’t know,” she said, moving to another table. “Sometimes a girl’s got to take care of her own self, if you know what I mean.”

  I shook my head. In a million years I could not imagine myself walking into one of those kinds of stores and buying a vibrator.

  “If you ladies have some time on your hands, how about opening shop?” Harlan’s voice made me jump. I looked back just in time to see him disappear into the kitchen.

  “Oh my God,” I said. “Do you think he heard us?”

  Resa laughed as she unlocked the restaurant’s front door.

  “Don’t worry, Emma. It’ll take more than a vibrator to embarrass old Harlan. Trust me, honey, he’s heard it all before.”

  When school was over, Jenny and Lashaundra came to the diner. Angel was working at the bakery now, so they often came in to have a snack and do their homework.

  “Ya’ll want some pie?” Resa asked.

  “No, thank you,” Lashaundra said, smiling up at her.

  “Yes, please!” Jenny said.

  “How about some cocoa, then?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Those girls are so polite,” Resa said as she passed me. “You and Angel are good mamas.”

  “I can’t take much credit,” I said. “Brannon’s the one who raised Jenny.”

  “Well, he’s done a fine job. My kids think they’re doing you a favor to say please or thank you.”

  I laughed. Resa’s four children were all well mannered, if a little bit rowdy. When they came into the diner, it was like a hurricane of noise and motion.

  I picked up plates from a table and pocketed the tip, then headed for the kitchen when I heard the chimes on the door. Glancing back, I saw three boys enter. One of them looked familiar.

  “What do you have to do to get service around here?” one of the boys, the biggest one, shouted as they all sat down at a booth.

  “Hold your horses!” Resa called back. “I’ll be right with you.”

  I put the plates into the dishwasher, picked up an order, and walked back to the front of the diner. The three boys were sitting in a booth toward the front.

  “Hey, Emma,” Jenny hissed at me as I passed the table where she sat with Lashaundra. “That’s Jasper Rigby, the one who called Lashaundra a jungle monkey.”

  I eyed the boys at the table, wishing I could ask them to leave.

  “Just be quiet and stay out of his way,” I said softly.

  Jenny nodded and dropped her eyes to the social studies book in front of her. Lashaundra turned in the booth to look at the boys.

  “Hey, it’s the jungle monkey!”

  The biggest boy rose from his seat and began walking toward the table where the girls were sitting. I stepped in front of him.

  “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll take your order,” I said, forcing my voice to remain flat.

  “I’m not sitting in any restaurant that serves niggers.” The boy stared past me at Lashaundra and Jenny.

  “Jasper Rigby, that’s enough out of you!” Resa stood behind me, her hands on her hips. “You sit back down and behave yourself or I will call your mother.”

  Jasper rolled his eyes at her and stood still for a long minute. Then he turned abruptly and walked back to the table where his friends sat.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Nothing but niggers and nigger lovers in here.”

  The two boys in the booth rose and they all left, slamming the door behind them.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, walking back toward the girls.

  Jenny nodded. Lashaundra sat in silence, her fists gripped into two tight balls.

  “Don’t you worry, honey.” Resa put her hand on Lashaundra’s shoulder. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. Bullies always do.”

  Jenny’s eyes were wide as she watched Lashaundra’s face. Lashaundra said nothing for a minute, then looked up at Resa and said, “I’ve heard worse.”

  “He’s a pig, just like his daddy,” Resa said. “He’s not even worth your time.”

  Both girls nodded.

  “My dad said he was glad you hit Jasper,” Jenny said. “He said Jasper had it coming.”

  Lashaundra smiled then. “My daddy said he was proud of me, too. But boy, Mama was mad.”

  “Just try to steer clear of him and his friends,” I said. The sheer hatred on Jasper’s face as he stared at the girls had shaken me.

  “Don’t worry, Emma.” Lashaundra gazed up at me, her dark brown eyes wide and clear. “I won’t let him bother Jenny.”

  Just before we closed that evening, the front door slammed open so hard the windows rattled.

  “Resa Lane McCoy!” Damon Rigby yelled as he stalked into the restaurant. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Hey, Damon. Do you want some coffee?” Resa’s voice was calm.

  “Did you kick my boy out of here today?” Damon stopped directly in front of Resa, his red, angry face just inches from hers. He reeked of alcohol and tobacco.

  “No, Damon. I did not kick Jasper out. I just asked him to sit down and behave himself.”

  Damon stared at her, breathing heavily. Then he looked pointedly at the booth where Jenny and Lashaundra sat, watching him with wide eyes.

  “Well, he ain’t coming back in here no more, and neit
her is anyone else in this town that’s got any sense. Not while you keep encouraging that.”

  He pointed at Lashaundra and Jenny.

  “You talking about the cocoa, Damon?” Resa asked with a smile set firmly on her face. “Because lots of folks hereabouts like Harlan’s cocoa just fine.”

  “I’m talking about race mixing, and you know it, you stupid bitch!”

  “That’s enough, Damon.” Harlan stood at the back of the restaurant, slowly removing his white apron. “We don’t need no trouble in here.”

  “I ain’t the one with trouble,” Damon shouted. “You are!”

  “Go on home now,” Harlan said, his voice soft but steely.

  “You’ve had too much to drink. Go home before I call the sheriff to come get you.”

  Damon’s nostrils flared as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. After a long, tense standoff, he turned and stalked out the door, slamming it hard behind him.

  Resa locked the door behind him.

  “I better call Shirley and warn her,” she said. “He’s in a bad way.”

  “Should we call the police?” I asked.

  Harlan sighed and began clearing dishes from a table.

  “Won’t do no good,” he said. “He’ll go home and sleep it off. Just steer clear of him.”

  I nodded.

  “Thanks, Harlan.”

  He gave me half a smile and returned to the kitchen.

  “Come on, girls,” I said. “Help me clear this place up and we can go home.”

  I dropped Lashaundra off at the apartment Michael and Angel had rented. Michael waved from the doorway as we drove away.

  “Why is Mr. Rigby so mean?” Jenny asked.

  “I don’t know, honey. Some people are just born that way, I guess.”

  “Should we tell Daddy about it?”

  I thought for a minute before answering.

  “I guess we should,” I said. “He’ll probably find out from Mr. Johnson tomorrow anyway.”

  Brannon turned off the television as we walked into the house.

  “There are my favorite girls,” he said. “How was school today?”

  “Okay,” Jenny said.

  “Just okay?”

  “School was okay,” Jenny said. “But after school wasn’t.”

  “What happened?” Brannon looked from Jenny to me as Jenny began telling him about the scenes with Jasper and then Damon Rigby. Brannon’s face grew darker by the minute. He rose and began pacing the living room.

  When Jenny finished talking, Brannon stood quietly, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  “Don’t worry, Jenny,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to let Damon Rigby and his thug of a son know that they can’t talk to you or about you like that.”

  “Harlan and Resa said we should just stay out of Damon’s way,” I said, touching his arm.

  He pulled his arm away and spun to face me.

  “No one talks to my little girl like that,” he yelled, his face red.

  He stormed out of the house and a minute later we heard the truck’s motor roar to life.

  “Where’s he going?” Jenny asked, her voice trembling.

  “Probably just to cool off,” I said, hoping she would believe me.

  “What if Mr. Rigby shoots him?”

  “I’m sure that’s not going to happen.”

  But my stomach was churning, just like hers probably was.

  “Come on,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “Let’s get ready for bed. Your dad is probably just driving around for a while to cool off.”

  Long after Jenny had gone to bed I sat in the living room, waiting for Brannon to come home. Finally, just after two in the morning, I heard his truck in the driveway.

  He came in quietly, locking the door behind him.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “Why are you still up? You should be in bed. You’re sleeping for two now, remember?”

  “I was worried,” I said. “Where have you been?”

  “I drove around,” he said. “I needed to clear my head.”

  “I was afraid you were going to Damon Rigby’s,” I said. “I was so afraid he might hurt you or . . . or something.”

  “I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest. “Don’t worry about me, babe. I’m just fine.”

  25

  Jenny

  We were conjugating verbs in Spanish the next morning when the principal’s voice came over the speaker system.

  “Attention, students. I have some very sad news to tell you. One of our students lost his father last night. Damon Rigby, Jasper’s dad, was killed in a car accident. I hope you will all keep Jasper and his family in your prayers. The school counselor is available for anyone who wants to talk with her about it.”

  I stared at Lashaundra and she stared back at me. Neither of us liked Mr. Rigby, but it was still sad to know he was dead. At least I thought so. Then, as I watched in disbelief, a small smile spread across Lashaundra’s face. She composed herself quickly and we listened as Señora Mitchell droned on for a while about what a tragedy it was and how we should all be extra nice to Jasper when we saw him.

  When the bell rang at the end of class, I walked with Lashaundra to our lockers.

  “I know he was mean, but it’s kind of sad that he died,” I said.

  “He deserved it,” she said softly but firmly. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

  She took my hand and squeezed it. “I mean, I’m a little sorry in a way, I guess. He was a person and all. But at least now we don’t have to be scared of him anymore.”

  I thought about Mr. Rigby’s wife. I wondered if she would be sad he was dead, since he was so mean to her.

  “Are you going to pray for Jasper?” I asked. I knew Lashaundra prayed a lot.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so,” she said. “I know I’m supposed to.”

  We rummaged through our lockers for folders and homework.

  “I’ll see you at lunch,” she said.

  The cafeteria was just as noisy as always. Nobody seemed particularly sad about Jasper’s dad.

  “Hi, Jenny.” Sarah Lindner stood by the table where I sat. “Can I sit with you and Lashaundra?”

  “Sure.”

  She put down her tray and sat.

  “Pretty weird about Mr. Rigby, huh?” She took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Pretty weird.”

  “Hey, guys.” Lashaundra sat down opposite Sarah.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “He was pretty mean,” Sarah continued. “But it’s still weird that he’s dead.”

  “Mr. Rigby,” I said to Lashaundra.

  “He was mean,” Lashaundra said, nodding. “He was a bully and a racist. And Jasper is just like him.”

  “Jasper can be nice sometimes, though,” Sarah said. “One time he gave me lunch money when I forgot mine. And he helped Megan with her math all last year.”

  We ate in silence for a minute. Then Sarah said, “I think Jasper was afraid of his dad, just like everyone else was. My mom says Mr. Rigby was mean his whole life, even when he was a kid. And sometimes when we were in grade school, Jasper used to come to school with bruises on his legs. One time he even had a black eye.”

  “You think his dad hit him?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “He hit Jasper a lot. He hit Mrs. Rigby, too. Everyone knew it.”

  “Why didn’t anyone stop him?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s his family,” she said. “My mom always said it was none of our business.”

  That sounded familiar to me. Daddy used to say that what happened in our family was nobody else’s business.

  “Do you think Jasper is sad that his dad is dead?” I asked.

  Sarah nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Mr. Rigby was plenty mean, but Jasper was always trying to make him proud, you know? I
guess he thought if he was just like his dad, maybe his dad would like him more or something.”

  “That’s pretty sad.” Lashaundra’s voice was softer, less hard than it had been before.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. My dad got angry sometimes. I’d seen him get really mad. One time he even slapped Jackie when he thought I was asleep. He slapped her so hard she fell down. But he would never hit me. And no matter how mad or upset he was, I always knew Daddy loved me.

  After school, Emma was waiting for me in the car. It was her day off.

  “Mr. Rigby died,” I said as soon as I got in.

  “What?” She turned to stare at me. “How? What happened?”

  “He got in a car crash last night and died. Some kids are saying he was drunk driving.”

  “He had definitely been drinking,” she said. “We probably shouldn’t have let him leave the restaurant. We should have called the police or something.”

  We drove a ways in silence, then she sighed.

  “His poor wife,” she said. “I wonder what she’ll do now.”

  “Maybe she’ll be happy he’s dead,” I said. “At least he can’t hit her and Jasper anymore.”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” she said. “Even if he wasn’t good to her, he was her husband. She stayed with him all those years. She must have loved him at least a little.”

  “Sarah said Jasper loved him. She said the reason he was a bully was because he was trying to be like his dad, so his dad would be proud of him.”

  “I wonder what they’ll do now,” Emma said.

  “A girl in my math class said Mrs. Rigby has a sister who lives in Bardstown, and maybe they’ll move in with her now.”

  Emma shook her head and sighed again.

  “I hope they’ll be okay.”

  “Me too.”

  When we got home, Emma walked into the kitchen and began rummaging through the pantry.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. It was too early to start cooking dinner.

  “I’m looking for a cake mix or something I can make to take to the Rigbys.”

  “You don’t even hardly know them.”

  “I know,” she said. “But when somebody dies, that’s what you do. You take the family food. It’s a tradition.”