Vada Faith

by Barbara A. Whittington

  “Umm,” was all he said as he stared up at the angelic mother and baby in the gold gilded frame. Then he made his way over to the bar. I followed.

  “Would you get me a ginger ale?” I asked, watching a woman in a black sequined dress smiling at Roy across the room.

  “Hey there!” From behind us, Bruiser slipped his big arms around my husband’s waist and lifted him off the floor.

  “Hey yourself!” John Wasper grinned as though his brother hadn’t recently whipped his butt, like a halfhearted apology was enough for all the trouble he’d caused. The big guy set his brother back on the floor and grinned.

  “What’re you doing here?” My husband asked, and handed his brother a drink.

  “I was invited.” Bruiser smiled broadly.

  “He’s my guest, surprise.” My sister popped out from behind him.

  I sighed. That was all I needed. Those two thinking of rekindling something.

  “Dottie said to bring a guest.” Joy Ruth beamed up at the big man beside her.

  They’d gone out a few times and hadn’t hit it off. Now here they were holding hands and smiling.

  “Your guest. My enemy,” I said, staring at the big guy beside her who gazed down at her as if she hung the moon and stars.

  “Oh, come on,” she said, “he apologized.”

  The two men turned to the bar.

  “Big deal,” I said, in a low voice to keep my husband from hearing. “He made a spectacle out of himself. At our shop and in front of our customers.”

  “Customers?” She rolled her eyes. “That old woman who screwed up her own hair so bad, she didn’t care who was making a nuisance of himself out front. I’m over that incident and you should be too.”

  “Well, it was my ox that got gored not yours and I’m still hurting.”

  “Look who’s on her high horse now.” Joy Ruth frowned. “You might as well get off it. You’ve got more important things to think about. Like having a baby for a couple who isn’t wound too tight.”

  “That comment,” I said, watching my husband and his brother laugh over something, “is uncalled for. I’m tired of those remarks of yours.”

  “It’s true and you know it but I’ll keep my remarks to myself tonight.”

  “Here you go.” John Wasper handed her a soda. “Me and Bruiser will be out on the deck if you need us.”

  “We’ll see you in a while,” I said, watching my sister take a handful of pretzels from a silver bowl on the cherry side table.

  “Dinner will be served in just a few minutes.” Roy Kilgore came up behind me. He leaned over my shoulder, putting his mouth way too close to my ear, and whispered, “Let’s talk, honey. Before you leave. Just the two of us.”

  That man could have sold ice to Eskimos. He was that smooth. He had this knack for making what he had sound so good you wanted some too.

  Before I could respond, a man across the room beckoned to him.

  “My attorney, girls,” Roy said, “excuse me.”

  When they were out of earshot the two men went into a huddle.

  I wondered what kind of business was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until after a dinner party.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” My sister’s eyes had been taking in everything. She put her drink down on one of the glass topped tables scattered around the room. “I want to see this place while I have the chance.”

  “You’ve got to stop making snide comments in front of John Wasper.” I glanced at the wide staircase. “I don’t know about going upstairs.”

  “Dottie just told a young couple to tour the house. Besides, she’s busy helping herself to another drink and a pill from that little bottle she carries.”

  She was right. The woman was taking another drink from a tray one of the waiters carried. I saw her throw back her head and I knew she was swallowing one of her little pills.

  “Come on.” Joy Ruth pulled my arm. “If anyone has a right to look around this place, it’s you. This is your party too.”

  “All right.” I glanced out the window. The two guys were settled on the back deck talking. Unless someone interrupted them, they’d stay out there for hours.

  As I made my way up the wide staircase behind my sister, I saw Dottie below joining Roy and the attorney. She held a drink in each hand now.

  “This must be the master bedroom.” My sister opened the first door we came to. Over her shoulder I could see a spacious room beyond the bedroom. “Look.” She moved inside. “A sitting room.” She disappeared through the other doorway.

  “Get back here! Someone might come.” I glanced back at the stairs.

  “There’s a powder room and bath in here,” she called.

  “Come on!” I hissed from the doorway of the room. There was no sign of her. Sometimes she could be so exasperating.

  She appeared and strolled leisurely around the large bedroom checking out the beautiful cherry bedroom suite as if we had all the time in the world to browse.

  “I’m going to look for the nursery,” I whispered, turning away. “You can stay here and get caught.”

  “Look!” She had picked up something from the dresser. “A fertility goddess it says,” she said, shaking an object at me. “They say if you rub this when you have intercourse you’ll get pregnant.”

  “Let’s go!” I went over and grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.

  “We’re looking for the nursery.”

  I opened the door to the room next door, a smaller bedroom just as tastefully decorated. No nursery.

  “Here it is!” She had entered the room across the hall. “Welcome to babyland.”

  Babyland indeed. I moved into the room on her heels. In one corner sat a cradle stuffed with plush teddy bears. A huge rocking horse rested in front of the lace curtained windows. There was a Victorian doll house, a bassinet draped in tulle. A canopied crib. A bookcase filled with children’s books and encircling it all in the pale cream room was a border of whimsical bears and rabbits.

  It felt peculiar to be in the nursery. The room of this child I was carrying and to know that he or she would soon be here and I might not be welcome.

  An overwhelming sadness ran through me as I walked over and touched the soft crib blanket. I picked up a pair of tiny white shoes. They were exactly like the ones my own babies had worn. “Oh, look here.” I ran my fingers over the satin edges of the shoes.

  Joy Ruth was across the room rummaging through a desk drawer.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed, quickly putting the shoes back in the crib. I crossed the room. My sadness was replaced by anger. “Close that drawer and let’s get out of here.”

  “Dottie and Elvis.” She held up a picture.

  “Who?” I took the picture from her. It was Dottie with Elvis Rodriquez, the civic club performer, standing arm in arm, smiling at each other.

  “They look cozy if you ask me.” She sniffed.

  I handed her the picture. “Put it back.”

  “Wait.” Joy Ruth held up a newspaper clipping. “Dottie tried to commit suicide in Mississippi. She had to be hospitalized.”

  “Give me that.” I grabbed the paper and read the short article. Sure enough, the woman had taken an overdose of drugs when their business was under investigation.

  “Here.” I handed her the clipping. “Put it back and let’s get out of here.”

  “Wonder what it all means?” She placed the newspaper back into the drawer and closed it.

  “It means we should mind our own business and we shouldn’t be up here.” I closed the nursery door behind us.

  Across the hall, the door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar. “I can’t,” Dottie’s soft pleading voice drifted through the doorway.

  My sister leaned closer to hear. I didn’t have to move closer. Her voice floated over to where I was flattened against the wall.

  “I can’t leave him now, El. Not before I get my baby. I’ve waited all my life for this. You know I have.” Then, there was a muffled sou
nd. The woman was crying. “I told you, the settlement will keep us forever. You don’t have to perform anymore.”

  I grabbed Joy Ruth’s hand. Her palms were as sweaty as mine. “She’s going to leave Roy.” My sister’s mouth dropped open.

  “I love you, too,” Dottie said lowering her voice, her next words becoming inaudible.

  “Come on.” I pushed Joy Ruth down the hallway. “I’ve heard enough.” For once she didn’t talk back.

  Downstairs, the guests were moving toward the formal dining room where already a line was forming at the elegant table. She paused at the dining room window and stared out at the rose garden. I stood behind her. Neither of us said a word. All I could see was the picture from the drawer upstairs. Was she really leaving her husband for that performer and taking my baby? Would she change her mind and leave the baby too? What had I gotten myself into?

  “Check out the size of those shrimp,” my sister said, faking her light mood, trying to pull my attention to the buffet table as she got into line. “Look at those scrumptious canapés. Come on. Let’s get in line.”

  “It’s quite a spread all right.” Blindly I followed her lead and picked up a plate. The smell of food was making me sick.

  Just before leaving the house to come to this party, I’d looked at the picture of my dream house, the Queen Anne. I hadn’t been able to work up one ounce of enthusiasm for it lately. The words of my mother rang in my ears.

  “Honey,” she’d said, recently, as I held the picture of my dream house, “that place is grand but this house is already your home. The great grandparents of your children lived here. You can’t buy that. This is a real home and you and John Wasper have put your stamp on this place.” She looked around at the things we’d changed. “The new house in Crystal Springs might have more space but sometimes more ends up being much less.”

  I looked around me at the beautiful home before me and all the expensive furnishings. I wasn’t sure about more being less. I could see having everything hadn’t made this couple happy.

  I caught sight of John Wasper and Bruiser out on the deck. Both guys held plates of food and were talking to some men who’d joined them.

  Joy Ruth and I took our plates and went into the empty breakfast room next to the dining room.

  “Girls. There you are.” It was Fannie, Dottie’s sister, following us. She sat down beside me at the wicker table.

  “Aren’t you eating?” My sister asked the woman, taking a healthy bite of a fancy roll.

  “I ate earlier.” Fannie turned to me. “Tell me, dear, how are you feeling now that you are pregnant?”

  “Okay,” I said. I picked up a carrot stick and turned it around in my hand. “I guess you’re excited for your sister.”

  “Yes,” she said, hesitantly. “To tell you the truth, I’m worried.” She glanced at the doorway. “Dottie hasn’t been herself lately. All the stress. Roy’s business.” She sighed. “All that trouble before they left Mississippi.”

  “You mean the young girl who was pregnant?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Roy didn’t get any girl pregnant. Someone trumped that up. For money I guess. There were other disturbing things.”

  She looked into the next room where the couple stood talking to a group of people.

  “You mean your sister’s affair?” I lowered my voice. “I saw it on national news. If you can believe the news.” I stared at her. “Did you believe it?”

  “I honestly don’t know. It was on the news down home. Some say yes.” She frowned and took a sip of her drink.

  “What do you think?”

  “I just don’t know.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t even know my sister. At times I think she made up the story about being infertile. She can’t always recognize the truth.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “Oh, I know,” she said. “It sounds terrible. She’s caught up in herself and her own appearance. Look at her in that satin dress. Poured in. If she thought pregnancy would ruin her looks she wouldn’t have any part of it. Not that Roy would agree with that. If he knew, that is. He genuinely wants a baby.” She tapped her long red nails on the table. “Dottie does too. In her own way. She likes the idea of it, anyway. I’ve tried to talk to her. I can’t. Sometimes It’s hard. Talking to a sister.”

  “Yes. Sometimes it is.” I glanced at my own sister. Her attention was on her plate as she ate. She appeared oblivious to our conversation but I knew she could repeat every word if she wanted.

  “This is my son, Jeff,” the woman said, pulling out a photo of a boy in his early teens.

  “He’s cute,” I said. “I’ll bet Dottie is crazy about him.”

  She shook her head. “No. She’s jealous. She hardly acknowledges his existence.” She tucked the photo back in her pocket.

  “How sad,” my sister said. “I love my nieces.”

  “Yes, sad,” the woman nodded. “Sad, indeed.”

  “Who’d they say she had an affair with in Mississippi?” I asked, wanting to know everything I could about this situation. It seemed to be growing by the minute.

  “Some singer.” She glanced through the doorway at Dottie who was talking to the attorney again. “An Elvis impersonator. He travels around the country performing. People have seen them together.”

  “An Elvis impersonator?” My sister raised her eyebrows. She put down her fork and leaned forward. “Did you say an Elvis impersonator?”

  “Why?” The woman’s eyes narrowed.

  “Do you think she’s still seeing him?” I asked.

  “Well, there you are!” Dottie popped through the doorway, her hands on her hips. “What are you all doing in here?” She ran her hands down the clingy red dress.

  “Girl talk,” Fanny said, picking up her drink from the table. “Catch you girls later.” She ignored her sister as she passed.

  I watched her approach Roy who stood alone at the bottom of the stairway, a drink in his hand. He laughed at something she said and followed her to the buffet table. I could see from their easy banter they cared for each other.

  “How’s the shrimp?” Dottie didn’t seem to mind that her sister had brushed past her and was laughing up at her husband in the other room.

  “Delicious.” My sister added another shrimp tail to those already stacked on her plate. She’d devoured a dozen already. Her appetite didn’t seem to be bothered by all the tension.

  “I do hope you’re having a good time, Vada Faith.” Worry lines creased the woman’s face. I stood and picked up my plate.

  “Yes, but it’s time to leave. We have to pick up the girls.”

  I’d asked about bringing them but Dottie had stressed that this was a grown up party. So far, she’d turned down all invitations that had included my children. Alarms should have gone off in my head then. They hadn’t. Now it was too late.

  “Roy will want to say good bye.” She walked away. “I’ll get him.”

  “I have to find a bathroom.” I turned to Joy Ruth. I was suddenly conscious of my full bladder. These days when I had to go I had to go.

  “Well, I want a piece of that cheesecake but I doubt that even that can salvage this evening.” My sister picked up her plate. “Did you see the baby cake?”

  “Baby cake?” There it stood on a table by itself in the dining room. A wedding cake with a big stork perched on top. Where roses should have been there were rows of pink and blue booties.

  “I’ve got to go to the bathroom now,” I said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Joy Ruth headed to the dessert table for cheesecake. I couldn’t force down another bite of anything. I felt too sick.

  I hurried down the long hallway, opening the first door I came to. Inside, at the far end of the room, Roy Kilgore and another man were shooting pool. Several guys were playing darts. I started to ease the door closed but not before I caught some of the conversation.

  “Your shot, Stud Man,” Roy’s pool opponent laughed.

  “You couldn’t do it,
Sam.” I could just see Roy aiming his pool stick at the balls. “One shot and she’s having my baby.”

  “Hey,” the man said, “you had to use a middle man.”

  “Sammy, boy,” Roy Kilgore said, chuckling, as pool balls whacked together, “one shot from me and that girl is pregnant. Middle man or not. Now that’s potent stuff.”

  All the balls on the pool table must have shot into holes. Roy whistled.

  I closed the door and backed into the hallway. In my haste I hit the wall with a thud, banging my head with a loud crack.

  I backed up and held my head.

  “Vada Faith!”

  I turned around, suddenly sick to my stomach.

  Roy Kilgore was behind me, putting his arms around me as if to steady me.

  However, I wasn’t unsteady on my feet.

  “I’ve been looking for you, honey,” he said. He kept his arms around me.

  “I’m looking for the bathroom,” I mumbled, moving away from Roy and down the hallway.

  “I’ll show you,” he said, “but first I have to tell you something. Please.” He grabbed me. “Stop.”

  I was conscious of his hands turning me around until I stood facing him. I could feel his breath on my face. The scent of his expensive after shave was so strong I thought I’d faint. Roy Kilgore was a handsome man. Why had I never noticed it before?

  “I’m falling in love with you, honey.”

  “No!” Bile was welling up in my throat. “You are not in love with me.” I twisted away from him. “I’m married.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He smiled at me. “Don’t you know that by now? I can’t get you off my mind. You and our baby. It excites me so I can’t stand it. Will you let me hold you, Vada Faith, please?”

  “No.” I moved away from him. “I don’t feel well, and, and, you’re married.”

  “Dottie.” He sighed. “I’m afraid Dottie and I, well, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you. You and our baby. It’s all in the world that matters to me.”

  “Please understand me. I love John Wasper.”

  “Forget him.” His voice became impatient and I could smell alcohol on his breath. “I can make you very happy, sweetheart. If you’ll only let me.”