Favorite Wife
Page 41
Lillie’s baby boy was born late in the afternoon. They named him Christian Bruce. Bruce—the name Verlan had agreed to save for my second son.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
"Susan, you do know that Joel is planning to begin a mission in the San Diego area?”
Setting my bucket of paint down on the window frame of what was soon to be my bedroom, I held the brush suspended and curiously regarded my visitor, Lillie’s mother, Jeannine LeBaron. What, I wondered, did this have to do with me? “Yes, I remember Verlan mentioning something about it.”
Jeannine fidgeted and pulled her jacket tighter around her thin body. Damp November wind blew hard against the west wall of my new house, rattled the windowpane in front of me, and seeped in cold gusts through invisible cracks. Tiny grains of sand began to stick to the fresh paint on the sill. Disgusted, I tapped the lid back on the paint can and gave Jeannine my full attention.
“Joel asked me to go to San Diego for a few months and keep house for him and the other men. I’d love to do it; I could use a break. Would you consider keeping Ivan for me?”
As I cleaned the paintbrush and other tools, I considered and nodded. “I’ll be moving in a week or so. Meantime Ivan could sleep on the trailer couch. Sure, Jeannine, sure he can. I’d love to have him.”
She grinned her relief. “He’ll be more help than trouble,” she promised. “Lillie will be taking care of the little girls. She offered to keep Ivan too, but I don’t want to burden her with all three kids, with her new baby and all. The girls will be right next door in case Ivan gets lonesome, and I’ll be coming down on the weekends. I’ll have him get his things together.” Smiling brightly at me, Jeannine dashed out the door and cut across the field toward Lillie’s.
I’d always liked Jeannine, even though she was Lillie’s mother and never hesitated to sing her perfect daughter’s praises. Having Ivan around would be good for me. He would be someone at home to visit with who didn’t talk baby talk.
The tarring of my roof was a big day for Verlan’s family. It completed our frantic six-week building project, and life for Verlan’s families returned to normal. He immediately left for Las Vegas, and I began the move into my new house.
True to Jeannine’s word, Ivan was a great help. With the old family pickup and Ivan’s and Kaylen’s assistance, the trailer was soon cleared of everything that wasn’t glued in or tacked down. The thirteen-year-old boys worked hard and steadily, and once my belongings had been hauled to the new house and unpacked, I gathered James into my arms and slowly, almost reluctantly, wandered through the half-finished rooms.
For the past three years I had looked forward to this day with excited anticipation, fantasizing how wonderful it was going to be to have my very own house. I’d looked forward to making it a comfortable, warm, and cozy home for Verlan, and he would love to stay with me. My home would be filled with good smells and laughter and beautiful things.
Wryly, I glanced around. The walls were of rough gray plaster, the floors cold gray cement; dismal winter sky showed through the bare windows. The bedroom doors needed to be hung, and kitchen cupboards needed to be built. Trash and leftover building materials, in piles around the yard, were too trivial for Verlan to worry about.
The furniture in my bedroom consisted of a double bed—its box springs resting on cinder blocks—James’s crib, and a kitchen chair. No time or material to build closets, so my clothing hung on a broom handle suspended from the ceiling by baling wire. In the kids’ room, a cot for Melanie and a mat on the floor for Ivan were the sole furnishings. Cardboard boxes along the wall held their clothing.
The old orange couch, brought from the trailer, was the solitary piece of furniture in the living room. The kitchen boasted an old stove, a table, and three rickety chairs. My dishes, pots, and pans were in boxes on the floor.
I sighed and looked out the kitchen window, past my new outhouse, to the desolate, treeless field between my lot and Charlotte’s. “You knew in your secret mind it would be like this,” I reminded myself. “At least you have a real house of your own now. One of these days Verlan will get you the other things you need. Until then you will just have to make do.”
Yet as I remembered the scanty furnishings in Lucy’s, Beverly’s, and Charlotte’s houses, I knew that it would most likely be years before I had much. Verlan was a fair man. He wouldn’t fix my place up until the others had what they needed.
Of course, I couldn’t compare Lillie’s house to mine because she had bought her own furniture. I’d seen the inside of her house the day Beverly and I had stopped in to see her baby. White metal cupboards and sideboards, a lovely oak table and matching chairs, bedroom groups, plush couches, and overstuffed rockers. Carpets, drapes—everything a woman could want.
I shook the thought away. “I won’t do it!” I said through clenched teeth. “I will not allow myself to envy Lillie!”
“What, Aunt Susan? What did ya’ say?” Kaylen called, peering at me.
“Oh, nothing. I was just rattling to myself.” I kicked a scrap of sheetrock out of the way, then grabbed it up and slung it into a box of trash.
Ivan glanced up at me, his lips tightly pursed over the nails held in his mouth. His eyes briefly met mine, then he dropped his gaze, and began hammering nails into my new water bench. I watched him in silence. Ivan was a quiet boy, but there was an active brain behind those bright blue eyes. At times I felt as though he could read my mind. Kind of depressing because my thoughts today were anything but cheerful. I was all moved in, finally into my own place, and it was absolutely dreadful.
“There!” Ivan announced as he pounded the final nail. “It’s sturdy as can be. Go ahead, Aunt Susan, just try to wiggle it.”
I sniffed and turned my back to the boys, pretending not to hear, as I fought back tears of dejection.
“Come on, it’s solid as a rock and big enough for two buckets. Just try to wiggle it!” Kaylen insisted.
“I don’t want to wiggle it!” I snapped. Striding to the door, I yanked it open. “You boys leave me alone for a while. Go on over to Aunt Charlotte’s and fill those buckets with water. Go! Now!”
Kaylen’s and Ivan’s mouths dropped as they stared at me. They glanced at each other, picked up my empty pails, and strolled out the door.
From her seat at the table, Melanie watched me with tears in her eyes. “I’m goin’, too,” she sniffled. Grabbing her coat, she hurried outside, her tiny body braced against the wind, as she struggled to catch up with the boys.
I stared after her until she took Ivan’s hand, and then I closed the door and leaned against it. “You ugly old witch!” I said out loud. Startled, James turned in my arms and regarded me with solemn eyes as I scornfully whispered, “Now look what you’ve done! Your own little girl can’t even stand you. Those boys have been so good and tried so hard, and you’ve been mean as hell just because your house isn’t as fancy as Lillie’s. Stop feeling sorry for yourself; you’ve got a lot more than you’ve ever had, and crying about it won’t solve a thing.”
Carrying James to his crib, I laid him down and looked around me again. I needed to think positive, that was my problem. If I took one project at a time and practiced a little ingenuity, I could make this place livable. I would do it! I had to do it.
I wandered through the empty rooms, my thoughts racing. A sheet, dyed and cut in half, would make presentable curtains for the kids’ windows. I could hang another sheet up to my bedroom door for privacy.
I stopped in the kitchen and thoughtfully eyed the boxes of odds and ends littering the floor. I needed something to store my dishes in, and obviously I was going to have to solve the problem myself. Frowning, I searched my mind. If I remembered right, there was a piece or two of plywood out behind Lucy’s in the goat sheds. If I scrubbed the manure off them and rounded up some two-by-fours, I could build a cupboard and sid
eboards for the kitchen. Ivan was good with tools. He would help me.
By the time Melanie and the boys returned with the water, I was in a better mood and ready with an apology. Holding the door open for them, I offered my best smile. “Hey, you guys, I’m sorry that I yelled at you. You’ve all been such good helpers, and I’m ashamed of myself. The water bench is a masterpiece, Ivan. I didn’t mean to be so cross.”
Kaylen set his bucket down on the new bench, lazily scratched his thigh, and grinned at me. “Cross? You call that bein’ cross? That was nothin’. You should hear my mother. She hollers so darn loud at us, the Tippettses can hear her swear—” Kaylen bit off the last of his sentence and looked guiltily at me.
“Don’t worry,” I chuckled, “I won’t tell her what you said.”
He nodded, relieved. “I wasn’t worried. Well, I’ve got to go, Ivan. I gotta milk.”
Thanking Kaylen again for his help, I escorted him to the door and watched him saunter to the road. Suddenly I giggled. Kaylen walked with the same loping gait as his father and the rest of the LeBaron men, definitely in the blood.
Ivan puttered around the kitchen, putting away his tools and sweeping up the sawdust, and he seemed absorbed in thought. I caught him glancing at me several times as I sat on the couch and nursed the baby.
“What’s on your mind, buddy?” I finally asked.
He took a breath and mumbled, “I, uh, I . . . would it be okay if I go to see Lillie for a while?”
“Of course you can! Anytime you want to, you can go. Whenever you start to feel lonesome, or whatever, you just go have a visit with her. It’ll make you feel better.” I inclined my head toward the door. “Don’t be gone too long, though, ’cause I’ll be making supper soon, our first meal in the new house.” I grinned at him.
An hour later I stepped outside into the cold, early evening air. The wind had died down, and the sky had cleared somewhat. Half the sun was visible through pink and red clouds dipping into the ocean.
I glanced around, located Melanie’s blond head on the other side of the sand pile left over from the building project. She’d become bored watching me make supper, donned her coat, and headed outside to “dig.”
“Mel,” I called, “come on in now, it’s time to eat.” While I waited for her, I glanced toward Lillie’s, wondering about Ivan. I’d had guilty thoughts ever since he left—aware that he had gone to his sister’s place because of my wretched attitude. I’d upset him, and he’d gone for comfort. It rankled me.
Bright orange rays from the sunset glistened off of Lillie’s dining room window and off of the old family pickup that was backed up to her front door. Shielding my eyes, I stared. What was that woman doing now?
The pickup was piled high with furniture. Even as I watched, Lillie and Ivan loaded something heavy onto the end of the truck and slammed the tailgate closed. The two of them climbed into the cab, then Lillie started the truck and pulled it onto the dirt road. It swerved in my direction and slowly bumped through the potholes, drawing closer and closer. “What is she doing?” I muttered. “What on earth is she up to now?”
Melanie’s cold little hand slipped into mine. Together we stood on the cement step and watched Lillie maneuver the pickup through the break in the barbed wire fence that was someday to be my driveway. She stopped in front of us, opened the door, and stepped out.
“Hi.” Her voice was low, her dark blue eyes holding a hint of embarrassment, “I brought you a few things.”
A knot began to form in the pit of my stomach, spreading heat upward to my face and cheeks. My heart pumped shallow surges of guilt and shame. “What—what things?” I croaked.
“Uh, just some furniture for your house. I couldn’t stand to have so much when you don’t have anything. I wanted to share with you.”
In a daze I stumbled to the pickup. Lillie’s gold bedroom set, complete with dresser and huge mirror, were carefully arranged along one side. Another smaller dresser, Lillie’s nice, plush sofa with the oak trim, and her old-fashioned green rocker with the cream ruffles, the one I had secretly admired the day I’d gone to see her baby, filled the remainder of the truck bed.
“Oh!” I gasped in horror. “Oh, Lillie, no! I don’t want it. These are your things that you worked for! No, don’t do this. Just take them home again where they belong!”
She determinedly reached out and opened the tailgate. “I want to give them to you! See? I can’t stand to live next door to you and know that you don’t have anything, and I do. Now, don’t argue, Susan. I’m giving you this furniture, and that’s that.”
I stepped past her and slammed the tailgate closed again.
“Nope. Uh, uh!”
“Yes,” she shouted, wrestling with me over the tailgate. “Yes! I want you to have nice things. Susan, can’t you understand? I—I love you! We’re family!”
Suddenly Lillie’s arms were around me and she was croaking into my ear, “I don’t want you to hate me anymore! Please don’t hate me anymore.”
Tears blinded my eyes. Wrapping my arms around her thin waist, I buried my face against her shoulder.
“I don’t hate you,” I choked. “I never did. Honestly I didn’t. It’s just that . . .”
“I know. I know.” She sniffed. “I love him, too, remember?”
“How can you be so good to me?” I wailed. “I don’t deserve this; I’ve been so rotten to you—so mean! Oh, Lillie, I can’t take your things.”
She dabbed at her eyes and grinned at me. “You might as well. I asked Mom a week ago to stop at garage sales in San Diego and find me some more, so you’ll have to take these or there won’t be room in my house when she brings the new ones. Come on, now,” she ordered, opening the tailgate again. “Stop your blubbering and help me haul this stuff inside. We’re going to fix your house up, and I can’t wait to see what it will look like! Can you?”
Lillie grabbed a firm hold on one end of the long dresser. “Hurry, it’s getting dark!” she giggled.
My brain began slowly to function when I backed into the house with my end of the heavy dresser. It was something how she brought the furniture on this very day, when I had been feeling so low.
Behind Lillie, I caught sight of Ivan as he followed us inside, his arms full with the rocker. Suddenly I froze in my backward movements and searched his freckled face. A dawning realization clutched at my midsection.
No, he wouldn’t have! Ivan wouldn’t have said anything. Yet, he avoided my eyes. Why?
I stood at my kitchen window watching the first golden rays of a beautiful April dawn creep over the distant highway. I caught a flash of metal. I immediately recognized Uncle Bud’s blue pickup slowing down for the bend in the road by the eucalyptus trees. The pickup gained momentum for the short stretch to my place, and with a quick spin of the wheel, Naomi Zarate Chynoweth pulled through the opening in the barbed wire fence that marked the boundary of my lot. Wrapping my robe tighter around me, I opened the back door as she stepped out of the truck.
She smiled a shy greeting and in Spanish said, “Susana, my sister-in-law Victoria is in labor, and my mother isn’t feeling well enough to help deliver the baby. Can you come?”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Why, yes, Naomi. I’d be glad to help, if you’re sure I’ll do. I’ve never attended a birth before.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you what needs to be done.”
“Then I’ll go get dressed,” I motioned for her to come inside.
“My brother Benjamin came by a few minutes ago,” Naomi called after me as I headed down the hall. “Victoria has had contractions most of the night, so we need to hurry. Is there someone who can stay with your children?”
“I’m here,” Ivan answered for me. He had passed me in the hallway, yanking a shirt over his head. “Don’t worry about the kids. I can handle them.”
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br /> I pulled my clothes on and ran a brush through my hair. Giving Ivan quick instructions, I followed Naomi outside. As we drove toward the Zarates’, I stole a sidelong glance at her. She still appeared a bit pale, and I remembered that her own baby boy was only a few weeks old. She didn’t look as though she were back to normal health yet.
I understood why Naomi had chosen me to assist her with Victoria’s confinement. Because of Uncle Bud, Naomi felt a kinship with me. And also, because of Bud’s association with Ervil, she felt uncomfortable asking the other Joelite women of Los Molinos for help. She knew that I was aware of her dislike and mistrust of Ervil. Her life had to be one of constant stress, with Uncle Bud’s home being Ervil’s headquarters in Los Molinos.
Benjamin Zarate Jr.’s two-acre parcel of land was located to the right of his father Benjamin Sr.’s place. Between the younger man’s trailer and his father’s small adobe home was the well Floren LeBaron had witched. New saplings had been planted along the borders of the lots, their green leaves attesting to the success of Floren LeBaron’s trip to Los Molinos. Benjamin’s youthful, dark face broke into a relieved smile as he opened the door of the small trailer for his sister and me.
“Victoria’s lying down,” he said nervously, motioning toward the back end of the trailer. “The pains are too severe for her to walk around anymore. I have hot water on the stove.”
“Good,” Naomi squeezed her brother’s arm, then set her medical bag down, poured hot water into a wash bowl, and began to scrub. As she lathered her arms, she glanced at Benjamin. His angular face showed signs of weariness as he paced back and forth. Stopping a moment, he chewed at his thumbnail and gazed longingly out the window.
“Now, Ben,” Naomi said, “you don’t have to stay unless you want to. We can take care of things. Why don’t you go on outside for a while? If Victoria needs you, Susana’ll come and get you.”