She shook her head. “You go ahead. I’ll be up later.” His eyes dropped in disappointment, but he turned from her slowly and left the room.
Ava sat at the table and turned the letter repeatedly in her hands as she made her final decision. Much emotion welled up in her again, and tears spilled over. With a ragged breath, she wiped her wet cheeks, ripped the seal, and began reading.
She pushed the bedroom door open sometime later to find Jonathan sitting in the dark on the side of the bed, his hands and head positioned as if in prayer. She held the letter limply at her side.
“She loved you,” Ava whispered. “She loved you enough to make peace with me, so I wouldn’t keep putting you through this. She didn’t want either of us to be tormented by the past.” He remained motionless, except for a deep, grateful exhale. “She said a lot, actually.” Ava glanced down at the letter that hung by her side. “Explained a lot. There’s not a lot of it I want to talk about. I just wanted to tell you, it’s over. I’ll never bring her up in anger again.” He reached one hand back to her without looking up. She crossed the room slowly, dropping the letter on the foot of the bed and took his hand. He didn’t change his posture as he guided her to settle beside him, and they sat in hushed darkness for many moments, neither one knowing where to start. “I’m sorry,” Ava said remorsefully, “for bringing him up, suggesting that I would go back to him. I was really angry.”
“I know. But still, I never want his name spoken again. By either of us.”
“You really were going to do it,” she said, turning his hand over and running a finger over the slightly raised scar.
“I was.” He nodded, in shame. “I’m not proud of it, and I never wanted you to find out.” He self-consciously turned his hand over. “And honestly, I thought you’d have more of a reaction.”
“I guess I didn’t because it had crossed my mind recently, too.” Her words were laced with shame. His eyes squinted to see her face in what little moonlight shone through the window. “When Jean showed up, and I saw her, after just telling you I was pregnant. Of course, I couldn’t do it. But it crossed my mind, and I wished for a long time that I wasn’t pregnant, so I could. I just felt like that was the final straw, you know? I couldn’t deal with everything that had happened and right when you started acting like yourself again, here was Jean and I was sure that I would be pushed to the side for him.” She stared at the floor during her confession.
“You know that’s not true, don’t you? I’ve tried so hard to show you that it wasn’t going to be that way.”
“You have. And I don’t feel like that anymore.”
Jonathan watched her for a moment before he leaned over to the bedside table, pulling open the bottom drawer. He dug around blindly. “Aryl found me and thought quickly to save me. But Maura helped, too. Remember on the walk to the church she wanted to talk to me alone? She knew. I don’t know how she knew, but she talked to me all the way to the church. Got me thinking and gave me this. I carried it in my pocket for months, like a kid with a security blanket. It came to mean a lot more to me than the story behind it or even the things Maura tried to get across to me. I've stopped carrying it with me everywhere only recently. Like her, I have the story and the meaning in my heart.” He handed her the cross.
“It’s beautiful.” She turned it over in the dim light, not really seeing the detail of design or the antique strand that ran throughout. “That was nice of her to give it to you.”
“Well, now I’m giving it to you,” he said, closing her fingers around the heart of it. “Maura told me it should always be with someone who needs it. It’s yours now.”
“Thank you, but . . . .” She looked up at him, astounded. “How can you give me something after all the horrible things I said? I yelled at you, threw things.”
He took her head between his hands, squeezing it slightly for emphasis.
“Don’t ever question the fact that I love you more than anything.”
She met his concentrated stare.
“Don’t ever keep anything from me again. I don’t care how small it might seem at the time, or how difficult it may be to tell me. Don’t you ever keep another secret from me.” He placed her hand over his heart and held it there. She could feel it beating strong beneath the thin material, slightly damp from the balminess of the incoming storm.
“I swear. On my life, Ava. No more surprises.”
With nothing left to explain, he lay down, tucked an arm behind his head and pulled her close to him.
The wind blew the sheer, white curtains away from the frame into large swells that suspended momentarily, then rippled to the side with a graceful shimmer and quickly gusted out again. The hypnotic motions in the silvery moonlight lulled both of them to sleep quickly.
June 15th 1930
“Let’s stop by on the way home and tell them.”
“You sure?” Aryl cocked an eyebrow at her from behind the wheel of his parents’ car.
“Yes,” she said and smiled sweetly.
“You’re going to be nice, aren’t you?” Aryl looked from the dirt road to Claire and back several times, warily.
“Yes, I’m going to be nice. All smiles,” she promised with a big toothy grin. They bumped along the rutted road in silence for a while before Aryl began apologizing again.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t stay another day. I have to get ready for tomorrow and–”
“I told you, it’s fine, Aryl. I had a wonderful time. Very relaxing.” She gazed out the window at a patch of dark clouds that lurked out over the ocean. “Wonder when that’ll blow in?”
“Probably later this evening,” he surmised as he sized up the shadowy billows.
They pulled into the driveway and Aryl honked twice. His mother was at the door in seconds, waving and smiling. Claire walked along the cobble path to the door ahead of Aryl and he peeked around her, glaring at his mother, putting his finger to his lips.
“I know you’re right around the corner, but I miss ya so much!” She hugged her son tightly and then Claire. “So,” she said with dancing eyes and a smirk that gave away her knowledge. “How was it?”
“Oh, it was lovely,” Claire said and smiled as she sat down in the living room, folding her hands in her lap, staring at her mother-in-law with a sweet, innocent expression.
Kathleen fidgeted with the fold of her apron. “Just lovely?” she asked, her voice slightly high in pitch. “A plain old lovely weekend?”
“Just lovely.” Claire stared at her, waiting and enjoying watching her squirm.
“Huh.” She turned to Aryl, her forehead scrunched up in question. “Nothing exciting happened then?” She looked slightly deflated.
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Claire said, pulling her attention back.
Kathleen lit up and wiggled slightly in her seat, as if wanting to be settled just right to receive the news of her first grandchild. She smiled, waiting eagerly. Claire spoke with a perfectly straight face.
“We had sex a lot. And I mean, a lot.”
Aryl snorted, coughed, and left the living room. Kathleen’s face had frozen in place as Claire continued. “Practically all we did. Thank you for sending the biscuits and jam, by the way. They were delicious.”
“You're w-welcome.” Kathleen stared, dumbfounded.
“When I first walked up the stairs, I was completely amazed. Aryl had it set up so beautifully. Everything was almost exactly the way it was the first time we were there. Only this time I didn’t have to pick splinters from my rear the next day, since he thought to bring the feather tick. Aryl is so,” she looked toward the kitchen with a sigh, “well-endowed. I hope for your sake that runs in the family,” she said and grinned playfully at her mother-in-law. “And it was good that it stormed almost the entire time we were there. That thunder was loud, wasn’t it? Not as loud as us, mind you. Good thing there were no close neighbors–”
“Claire, I’m not sure this is–”
“It really was pointless to go on and
on like we did,” Claire interrupted, “from a procreative point of view, since I’m already pregnant. But you knew that, didn’t you?” She tilted her head and smiled sweetly at her mother-in-law. Kathleen still hadn’t moved her statuesque posture, eyes still wide with shock at the unique confrontation.
Claire stood up, gathered her purse, and called out to the kitchen. “Aryl, darling, we’d better get going.” She rolled her head back to Kathleen with her eyes bulging. “I really need a bath.” Michael’s laughter came in spurts of coughing fits from the kitchen, and Aryl walked to the door quickly, his own face quivering as he tried desperately to contain his hysterical outburst. Outside, he bent over laughing for a moment and then grabbed her arm to pull himself up.
“What in the world got into you?” he asked.
“Well, I decided that since she stole my moment, I was going to steal hers.” She nodded triumphantly. “Think it worked.”
Aryl laughed again. “Oh, I think it worked. Served her right, too.” He closed the passenger door behind her, laughing still.
∞∞∞
“Maybe she doesn’t like her name?” Caleb paced the living room with Savrene wailing on his shoulder. “Ever since we gave it to her, she’s done nothing but cry.”
“Don’t be silly.” Arianna peeked at the baby over his shoulder. “Try holding her the other way.”
“I’ve held her every way there is to hold a baby. Nothing helps.” He began pacing again, patting her back with a bouncing shuffle. Jean sat on the couch with a worried look and his fingers in his ears.
“It’s colic.” Hubert leaned on the doorjamb with a look of sympathy on his slightly reddened face. “You had it something awful when you were about this age. Seems to be when it starts. I think you cried for two months straight, didn’t get a wink of sleep.” He shook his head reminiscing.
“Well, I’m sorry I was such a difficult child, but how do you fix it? There has to be something we can do.” He looked down anxiously at Savrene, whose little red face was quivering with one piercing cry after another.
“Well, if I remember correctly, the only thing that quieted you down was a ride in the wagon. Damn near drove two of my best horses to an early grave from exhaustion.”
“Again, sorry I was so much trouble,” he said sarcastically. “Maybe I could try that.”
“Can’t. Got rid of the wagon last year. Maybe you could take her for a horse ride, though.” Hubert wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Sure is getting hot,” he said. Caleb glanced at Arianna in concern, then watched his father closely.
“You feeling okay, Dad? You don’t look so good.”
“Just getting a cold.” He lumbered back to the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll turn in early tonight,” he called.
“Mom’s not back yet?” It would be dusk soon, and he didn’t like the idea of his mother being out alone at night.
“You know how she gets when she and the other hens get together.” He flapped his fingers to his thumb several times. “The gossip alone could go on for hours before they ever get to playing cards. I’m just glad they have their meetings over at June’s house.” Caleb stood at the back door, staring through the screen.
“Maybe a walk outside would calm her down. We’ve got that old pram.”
“I’m willing to try anything. You want to take her or do you want me to do it?” Arianna asked.
“Why don’t both of you get some fresh air. I’ll stay here with Jean and Samuel,” Hubert offered, leaning over the table to light the oil lamp. The amber light from the small flame brought out the shadows and sallow color in his face. “C’mon, Jean, I’ll show you where Ethel hides the cookies,” he said.
∞∞∞
Less than twenty paces from the house, distracted and calmed by the bounce of the pram as it wobbled along the dirt drive, Savrene quieted and nodded off.
“Great. We’ll just do this all night,” Caleb said sarcastically with a sigh. Arianna hooked her arm around his and leaned her head on his shoulder as they slowly made their way down to the main road. When they got back, Caleb slowly and carefully lifted her from the bed of the pram and she wailed instantly. His head fell in frustration and he laid her back down, tucked her in, and then turned to make the trek once more.
∞∞∞
Hubert reached to the top of the pantry and pulled out a large jar. He held it out to Jean. He smiled with effort, his face glistened with the sheen of a cold sweat, and his breath was hard and short.
“Here you go. I think I better sit down,” he panted while groping for the chair in front of him. “Think you can manage the milk from the icebox?” Jean nodded and skipped to the icebox, having to move several items around to get to the round milk pitcher.
“Jean.”
Jean turned toward Hubert’s pained whisper. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his hands clutching his chest and then, to Jean’s horror, watched him fall onto the table, tipping it over. The lamp skidded across the room, spraying oil in a circular pattern as it spun on its angled side. The fire quickly jumped from the wick and chased the oil in all directions. Jean stood frozen in fear, watching the fire grow. He heard Samuel’s crying from upstairs and looked around anxiously.
Fire, a foot tall in some places, stood between him and the stairwell. He watched frantically as the fire jumped to the curtains of the back door and the kitchen quickly filled with smoke. He dumped the pitcher of milk over his head and ran full on at the fire, jumping over it in spots and raced up the stairs.
Samuel was screaming hard, choppy wails as Jean stood on tiptoes to reach him in the crib. He couldn't quite reach him; he dropped to his knees to reach a thin arm through the bars and pulled him close to the edge. Back up on toes, he grabbed two fistfuls of Samuel’s sleeper and pulled with all his might to raise him over the edge of the crib wall.
∞∞∞
“Make sure she’s tucked in,” Arianna said. Dark clouds from the approaching storm caused dusk to fall quickly, and Caleb noticed the threatening clouds in the distance on their third trip down the drive.
“Looks like it’s going to be a hell of a storm tonight,” he mentioned, too tired to sound more than casual. Arianna nodded, head down, watching the pebbles fly in all directions as she drug her feet.
“Do you smell that?” He sniffed the air several times to the left and right.
“Maybe the lightning caught something.” Arianna shrugged. A sizzling pop from behind them caused Caleb to turn around slowly and his eyes grew wide. Flames reached high out of the kitchen window and teased at the door below billows of black smoke. The screen door hung to the side, the bottom-half glowing red.
“Samuel!” Arianna screamed and scooped up Savrene as they both began running toward the house.
It was a long road to begin with, but in this moment, it seemed to go on forever. Caleb lowered his head, willing his legs to run faster and Arianna screamed for Jean and Samuel in turn.
Caleb stopped at the edge of the porch and pumped the well handle furiously, drenching himself as best he could, instantly grateful his mother had insisted on a well pump near the kitchen. He ducked his head under the stream one last time as something caught his eye. He pulled his head up, shook it wildly, and wiped his eyes. He made out a little figure engulfed in the smoke and a second later, Jean emerged, coughing and holding Samuel tight to his stomach, his little fists locked under the infant’s arms. The baby began to slide from Jean’s hold, and Caleb took a huge step to catch the baby before he fell to the porch. He tossed him onto his shoulder and then scooped Jean up, hugging him tightly with one arm.
“Thank you, Jean. Thank you,” he whispered repeatedly as he raced to Arianna. She laid Savrene on the ground and grabbed Samuel in one fell swoop, dropped to her knees and pulled Jean to her, holding them both tightly as she cried in relief.
“Jean, where’s my dad?” Caleb asked frantically.
“. . . kitchen . . . ,” he replied through a cough.
Caleb took off again
toward the house, covered his mouth and nose with his shirt, and lowered his head as he entered the burning kitchen. Arianna scarcely breathed as several minutes passed and Caleb hadn’t returned.
“Jean. Stay here with the babies. Don’t move, all right? Ne bougez pas!”
He nodded wide-eyed, moved himself between the babies, and held each of their hands. Arianna raced to the porch and could feel the wall of heat radiating from the house. She looked around frantically for the bucket at the other end of the porch. She grabbed it, returned to the pump, filled it with water, and threw it in the doorway that was now thick with flames.
Someone from behind her yelled, “Form a line!” She turned to see more than a dozen neighbors, all with buckets in hand, forming two lines from the well pump to the door.
“Caleb!” she screamed desperately over the roar of the flames. Arianna stumbled backwards from the burning doorway.
“There he is!” someone yelled, pushed past Arianna and stepped into the smoke to help Caleb pull his father’s body out of the house.
A safe distance from the house, his limp body dropped to the ground with a deafening clap of thunder overhead. Caleb leaned over him to listen for breath, ripped open his shirt and put his ear to his chest but heard nothing. Arianna stood over him with her hands over her mouth, crying.
“He’s gone,” Caleb whispered, looking up at Arianna with tears in his eyes. “He’s gone.” He remained on his knees by his father’s body, staring blankly at him while a number of neighbors raced to save what they could of the house. A flash of lightning followed by another thunderclap preceded a sudden downpour by only seconds. Arianna ran to the children to move them to the dry barn. One of Hubert’s friends stood behind Caleb and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. He reached around and handed him a wadded up sheet that he had pulled from the clothesline. And even though it was already wet from the sudden rain, Caleb draped the sheet over his father and slowly rose. His eyes found Arianna standing in the threshold of the barn, safe; he turned his attention to helping the effort to save the house. He grabbed a bucket and began racing in and out of the house with the others.
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