by Mallory Rush
"C'mon, woman, get your butt in gear. We've got a job to do. Crying time's over, so go get that rope, unless you want to nurse this baby yourself. The calf needs cleaning and some milk. Both of those chores go to you."
Sol caught a foul word from his usually proper wife, who seemed to have assimilated more from him than just the techniques of dairy farming. He was still grinning when she practically knocked him in the head with the twine.
"There's the rope. Tie it up and I'll pull."
"Sounds like a deal." Sol looped a noose around the calf's neck and silently asked its forgiveness for what he needed to do. Cinching it tight, he threw the end to Mariah, then slapped the calf's backside. "Get outta here, you runt!"
"Sol!" The calf trotted toward Mariah when she gently tugged the rope. "You're hurting it."
"Since when do you care?" he said, then slapped its flanks once more when it stalled.
"You don't have to mistreat the poor thing," she yelled. "It's just a baby." Stooping to stroke the matted hair as it moooed against her neck, she shot Sol a censuring glare.
"It's a dogie, Mariah. It doesn't have a mama and we'll be lucky to find a willing substitute. It could die of starvation if the other cows reject it. Then who's going to feed it? A bottle takes time, and I don't have it to give."
"I'll feed it a bottle," she retorted hotly. "Now go about your business, since you obviously don't care one way or the other. I've got some cleaning to do and so do you."
Mariah whispered something into the calf's ear while it looked at her as if she could be trusted.
"Oh, Mariah," he said offhandedly when it affectionately nudged her legs. "Got a name picked out yet?"
She looked from him to Besse to the dogie. "Cow," she said, swiping at her eyes.
Sol laughed silently.
Chapter 13
"Got that calf fed yet, Mariah? It's already two and we need to get to town and back before milking time."
"Almost done, Sol," she yelled back as the ten-day-old calf emptied the bottle. "Hurry up, Cow," she whispered. "Beth's waiting for me to call." Thank God for the library and the nearby pay phone, since privacy was scarce at their cottage. Though this would be her last clandestine checkin.
"Want me to drop you at the library?"
Mariah jerked at the unexpected closeness of Sol's voice. There was a terseness in his tone that caused her to yank the bottle from the calf, which promptly sounded its dismay.
"That would be great," she said, getting to her feet and risking a glance at his unsmiling face.
"What are you reading up on this time... baby?"
His odd emphasis on the endearment prickled the fine hair on her neck.
"A name-your-baby book. I decided that Cow needs a proper name. Names are very important, you know. They stick for life."
"And a few come to mind right now that I could apply to you." His lips twisted strangely, and he looked at her strangely too. Mariah held her breath so long her lungs began to burn. But then he quirked a brow and smiled devilishly.
"Names like Sweet Heat, Hot Mama, and, of course, love. Now give me a hug before we head for town. Be a good girl and I'll buy you a frozen custard, and maybe even that antique rocker you've set your heart on."
She hugged him, all right—hugged him to keep from slumping to the barn floor. She must be paranoid. Sol would never toy with her, would he? Make her think he was about to break a ground rule and call her a yellow-bellied coward and a sneaky little cheat, then once he'd made her squirm, heap on some affection. He'd never be that devious, would he?
No. No, she was the devious one, not him. She had to be projecting her anxieties onto Sol, that was all.
Cow nuzzled her jean-clad leg and Mariah was grateful for the comfort. At least she had told a bit of truth—by the time she returned she'd have a name picked out for her little dogie.
*
Sol pulled into the library parking lot and cut the truck's engine. Mariah hesitated before she reached for the door handle.
"You're going to wait this time?" she asked. "But I thought you had some errands to run."
"They shouldn't take long, and neither should checking out a name-your-baby book." He reached over and pulled the handle that she seemed so close to strangling. "Hop out I'm coming along."
Sol smiled grimly when she darted a furtive, frantic glance at the nearby pay phone. Yep, she was anxious all right. Mad as he was, he was going to enjoy stretching her anxiety until she snapped and the lid blew.
Calculating his next move, he stayed on her heels as they went through the library. While she checked out a book of names, he decided that Mariah was damn lucky she'd chosen today to name her cow, what with the state he was in. He'd gone to the barn to confront her about a very disturbing bit of news he'd received over the phone. But at the sight of her and Cow and her announcement about the name, he'd known the confrontation would have to wait. If it weren't for that tragic night and her just getting over it, he'd probably still be shaking her like a dog just out of a tick bath.
"Second stop, frozen custard," Sol said. They emerged from the library and Mariah glanced around nervously. "Why don't we walk?" he said. "It's only a block away and the weather's beautiful— for now. Don't you agree, love?"
"Uh, yes—no. What did you just say?"
"After the frozen custard we'll go to the antique store. I think my lovely, sweet, darling wife deserves that rocker for a special occasion." Laying it on so thick he was ready to gag, Sol continued, "Six weeks and five days since you threw down my crutch and knocked me off my feet." A crutch I'd like to take to your butt, little lady.
"Really, Sol, you don't have to do that. It's too much and, besides, I can wait."
"I can't," he muttered. Then, remembering he wanted to butter her up so much that she'd slip when he dropped the bomb. Sol forced a smile and graciously waved her up to the frozen-custard stand.
After insisting she get a triple hot fudge custard boat with sprinkles—"Only the best for my beautiful bride"—he led her to an outside table, making sure the pay phone was in sight.
He downed his own cone quickly, then dabbed away the rich confection beside Mariah's mouth.
"I need to make a short stop at the County Records Office for some paperwork on the farm. A few documents Ma asked me to check on. Want to come along?"
"That's okay," she said eagerly. "You go ahead and I'll just enjoy the breeze." All chatty now, she went on, "Why, can you believe it's sweltering in Mobile right now, and here we sit eating ice cream that's not even melting?"
"It's cool today, babe, but things could heat up pretty quick."
When she hit him with a did-you-mean-that-the-way-I-think-you-did expression, he smiled innocently.
"Enjoy yourself while you can." Getting up, he stretched and added, "Yes, sir, the weather's fickle around here. Never can tell if a storm might blow in or when a sudden change could overtake the pleasant climate."
She caught his hand on the crutches.
"Sol... I—"
"Yes? Something I need to know before I take off?"
"Will you be gone long?"
Sol swallowed a foul word and shrugged. "Say, twenty minutes. Of course, if you'd rather I wait—"
"No, no, you go on. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back."
And the sooner she could use those quarters he'd heard jangling around in her purse.
Sol left her with a kiss, then set off in the direction opposite from the phone. Half a block down, he ducked behind a building and checked his watch. Five minutes before he backtracked.
He did a few knee bends, hoping to work some of the fury out of his system. He still couldn't believe it. All this time, and he'd just found out the holdup on their marriage certificate wasn't because of the government—it was his wife!
Brother, had Turns had some explaining to do. That silent treatment he'd warned Mariah about had the desired effect: Turns had kept talking, stammering, apologizing.
"See, man,
it was like this. She said her birth certificate got lost the first time—"
As if she'd actually sent it to begin with, Sol thought with a snarl. She didn't want anyone to know her age, no doubt, but that was no excuse. Mariah was going to grow up and face some facts of life real fast.
"I didn't say anything 'cause you were ranting and raving about wanting out and I—do you still want out? You're sure this marriage is going to work?... Okay, sorry, I'll mind my own business... Sure, Sol, sure, I'll be looking for it, get the marriage certificate pronto and put it in the works for the Unit Diary... Yes, yes, they'll back-date it to the day the wedding took place... Yeah, I know you're mad—okay, damn disgusted... No, you don't have to fly over here and chew me up while you walk it through yourself..."
Adrenaline and anger surged through Sol's legs. It blended with The Vision—an image so embedded in his mind he could taste it, see it, feel it. The two mixed and collided and he swore he felt strong as a bull.
Sol glanced around to make sure he was alone. He was either going to take his first step alone or he was going to be kissing concrete.
Straddled between the urge to strangle Mariah and to pick her up in his arms, he set his crutches aside. Pressing a hand against the nearby wall, he willed his right leg a few inches forward. Gritting his teeth, he held his balance, released the wall, and slid his bad leg up. Wobbling, he repeated the movement seven times. Seven steps without a crutch or a bar for support.
"Hot damn!" he whooped in a whispered shout. "Hot damn. Call it the cripple's shuffle, but it's a dance that feels better than the Beer Barrel Polka."
He raised two fists in victory and almost toppled over. After managing a few more steps, he clutched the wall once more. His head hung down while he drew in ragged gulps of air.
Five minutes had passed—five miraculous minutes. His spirits were high and his body was still pumping adrenaline as he latched on to the crutches and took off.
Standing across the street from the custard stand, he didn't see Mariah at any of the tables. But when he peered down the block, he could just make out her figure before she whirled around and hung up the phone.
Probably checking to see if Mommy and Daddy were back. Damn, how could she keep anything from him after all they'd shared? He'd given her more than ample time to come clean, even a few pointers on how to do it.
Once she named her calf, the first domino was going down, and he couldn't wait to watch them all fall.
Hiding behind a tree, Sol could almost hear the slap of her tennis shoes on the sidewalk as she quickly made her way to the stand. Several minutes after she'd seated herself at a table, he approached. She stretched as if she'd been warming her buns the entire time. The urge to warm them up with his palm was real tempting.
"Back so soon?" she chirped, grabbing her purse, which had ceased to jingle.
"Let's head for the truck and pick up the rocker. Looks like we're in for some thunder and lightning."
Book in hand, Mariah looked to the sky as she hurried to keep up with him.
"Are you sure? Everything looks clear to me."
"Not to me, babe." He wet a fingertip and held it in the air between them. "Yep, my inner barometer says there's a storm on the horizon."
"If you say so," she said breathlessly.
"I say so. Decide on a name for your calf?"
"Hilda," she said. They reached the truck, and as Mariah got in, Sol leveled her with a meaningful one-eyed glare. Then he twined a hand in her hair and yanked her for a mouth-to-mouth assault. He administered an angry kiss, one she likely took for passion. Once he was done and she was gasping, making sure no one had seen, he slammed her door, got into the driver's seat, and peeled out.
After they had driven in silence for a few minutes, Mariah said uncertainly, "I decided to name her Hilda because it means 'battle maid.' She lost Besse when I did, and it's been a struggle ever since for Cow—Hilda—to buck the odds. She's strong, but she's still fighting a tough war. No one really wanted to take her in but me, and sometimes I worry that no matter how much I care, how hard I try to see to her needs, it's just not enough. Do you think I picked the right name?"
"Apt handle," he said with conviction. "Trust me."
The low rumble of thunder rolled prophetically in the distance.
*
"Talked to Turns yesterday," Sol said nonchalantly.
Mariah looked up from her knitting and was greeted with nothing but the back page of a newspaper and Sol's bare feet propped on an old ottoman.
Mariah resumed knitting Sol's soon-to-be thirty-first-birthday present and glanced uneasily at the phone on the Shaker table between them.
"How was Turns?" she asked uneasily.
"Fine." Sol turned a page. "Except he's run into a problem with our marriage certificate."
"A problem? What kind of a problem?" Mariah's heart turned over, skidded to a halt, then slammed against her ribs at his next words.
"Seems there's a birth certificate that got lost... or never showed on his end of the paper jungle. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you... love?"
The knitting needles stilled. "I—I have no idea what happened. Maybe I should send him another copy."
"'Maybe'?" Sol folded the newspaper into a neat square, then flipped it onto the floor and stabbed her with a glare. "Tomorrow's not soon enough to suit me. Got it handy? I'll make a copy first thing in the morning and get it in the mail to where it should've been weeks ago."
The yarn and needles dropped from Mariah's numb fingers into her equally numb lap. She was numb all over. Her vision had narrowed to Sol's menacing expression, and her heart speeded up, thudding rat-a-tat-tat before climbing into her throat to raise her voice an octave.
"W-what makes you th-think I didn't s-send it?"
With a snarl, he got to his feet and reached for his crutches. If she hadn't been so terrified of how he was stalking toward her, she might have been amazed to see him move with a new agility. But as it was, he was looming over her, his hands clenching and unclenching, his blue eye glowering down at her. The patch seemed like a death flag.
"Game's up, Mariah," he gritted out. "My patience has run out, and you've got some explaining to do. I'd suggest you start talking fast, because as it is I'm itching to shake the truth loose from your pretty little head, which must be spinning like crazy right now."
"I—I can't talk to you when you're mad like this." She started to rise, but he pushed her back into the antique rocking chair. "You're scaring me, Sol."
"You oughta be scared, because I'm not mad." He leaned down, shoved his face an inch from hers, and whispered, "I'm furious."
Chapter 14
Her teeth were chattering so hard, at first she thought it was she making the jangling sound. Suddenly realizing it was the phone, Mariah lunged for it.
Sol grabbed her wrist, knocking the receiver off the cradle.
Seizing the phone before she could, he barked into the mouthpiece "Yeah? Hello." Mariah flinched at his abrasive tone, then flinched some more when he made some barely polite small talk before shoving the receiver into her trembling hand.
"It's your sister, Beth. Says it's important. Make it fast."
Clinging to the phone as if it was a lifeline, Mariah said shakily, "What's the matter?"
"Sorry, sis." Beth's voice was hushed. "You know I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't urgent. Mom and Dad got worried and cut their trip short. They're home now, and you'd better do something quick because they took one look at your empty closet and didn't buy for a minute that you'd gone on a short trip."
The room went black and Mariah wondered if she'd fainted.
"Mariah?" Beth whispered sharply. "Mariah, are you still there?"
"Oh God," Mariah moaned. D day was at hand. "How long have they been back?"
"They've been home a few hours and grilling me the whole time. Mama's half crazed. Daddy's threatening to cut me out of his will, and I have never seen them lose their cool like this.
They're positive you either ran away or lied about the annulment. If you don't get in touch by tomorrow I don't know what they'll do. Call the police maybe, or more likely the Coast Guard."
Mariah closed her eyes against the spinning room and Sol's harsh face. He was listening to her every word. First Turns and now this. It was a nightmare. No, it was worse, because this was no dream, and she was trapped in a reality that was more horrible than she'd ever feared.
"I've got to go, Mariah," Beth said. "No later than tomorrow, okay?"
"No! Don't—" Don't leave me alone with all my lies and a husband who looks as if he'd love to skin me alive and hang me out for vulture bait. "Talk to me some more, please, Beth."
"No can do, sis. Dad could come in my room any minute, and let me tell you, he'd probably crawl through the phone wire to drag you back home."
Mariah caught her breath. "Thanks for calling, Beth," she finally said.
"Tomorrow."
"Yes."
Beth hung up but Mariah kept the receiver glued to her ear, as though it could save her from the inevitable. After a few moments Sol yanked the phone from her hands and disconnected the cord.
"So what was the emergency?" His tone was impatient, as if he were making sure no one had died before he did some killing himself.
"Nothing," Mariah said faintly. "Nothing important."
"Yeah, right. Probably no more important than my own wife treating our marriage irresponsibly and lying to me. Am I right, Mariah? Dammit, answer me! And for once, tell me the truth. If you're capable of it, you little—"
"No name-calling," she stated. Latching onto something, anything that seemed real, she began reciting his list of rules. "No in-laws, tacky—tacky presents. And you're not doing this right. Smelly socks, salt in the soup—and just a nip to begin with you said, you said nothing's insurmountable when two adults—"
'"Adults'! Listen to yourself, baby. The lesson's over. Now we're going to give the art of fighting some real practice. Let's just see how fast you really learn."
With a cry, Mariah surged from her chair, nearly knocking Sol down as she rushed past him.