“Just a minute!” Jessica yelped from the bathroom where she was wiping a cold rag over her face, her head having been in the toilet again. Pretty soon the door between the office and their home opened and in she came. She was carrying Sarah Sue on her hip and they both had red eyes, as though they’d been crying.
“Dorothy! I’m so glad you stopped by!”
“Am I interrupting anything? You look . . .” Now who would want to hear that! Don’t go causing more trouble! “You look as beautiful as ever.”
Jessica’s face turned crimson. “You’re too kind, Dorothy. I know for a fact I do not look beautiful.” She gave a lame smile but it was clear she’d had to work at it. She turned her head toward her daughter. “Now there’s a beautiful face, even when it has snot running down its nose.” Jessica sighed, grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt and swiped Sarah Sue’s nose, causing her daughter to have yet another hand-batting fit, which she’d been doing all day. Jessica invited Dorothy to please come in to her home and sit down. “I’m sorry the place is such a mess,” Jessica said as she preceded Dorothy into their living room, moving a couple of items from here to there on her way.
“Don’t go to a lick of trouble, honey. It’s you and Sarah Sue I stopped to see anyway, not your place. Besides, I rather prefer a rumpled nest myself. Suits me just fine! Says, ‘Somebody LIVES here!’” Dorothy plunked down in Paul’s chair realizing she was winded. Jessica put Sarah Sue down on the floor on her tummy, pulled a few toys in front of her, then sat herself down on the couch. Although Sarah Sue wasn’t quite old enough to sit up by herself or crawl after anything, she liked grabbing hold of the toys and banging them on the floor.
“Would you like something to drink? Or maybe a bite of lunch since it’s nearly noon?” The thought of putting anything in her own mouth made her stomach roll.
“No, thank you. I’m still filled to the brim with two doses of May Belle’s caramel pecan coffee cake and about a dozen cups of coffee.” Suddenly the unasked question about Jessica’s absence at the meeting hung awkwardly in the air. Jessica’s neck turned red and she diverted her eyes in embarrassment. There was no good excuse to offer without telling the truth, since there weren’t any guests at the motel. But she wasn’t ready to accept the possible truth herself, let alone share it, especially since she hadn’t told her husband yet. She’d just kept telling him “I think I have a touch of the stomach flu.” When he’d left for work this morning, which he did before dawn, he’d kissed her forehead as she’d laid in bed then whispered “If you don’t feel better today, honey, I want you to call Doc Streator. Hear me? I’m beginning to wonder if you don’t have food poisoning or something.” A quiet uh-huh was her only response. She groaned after he was out the door. Not only did she feel physically lousy but now her conscience bothered her for holding back. But first she had to be sure. Please, God! No sense both of them being crazy, especially if it turned out not to be true. PLEASE, God!
But how could it not be when here came another wave of nausea so powerful she knew she had to run to the bathroom. “EXCUSE ME!” she yelled as she ran down the hall. Sarah Sue started to pucker up in the wake of her mother’s sudden departure. Dorothy quickly pulled the sleeve for the armrest off the chair and began playing peek-a-boo with it. Some age-old tricks never lost their ability to work. Soon Sarah Sue was giggling and so was Dorothy. They were sure making happier sounds than Dorothy heard coming from the bathroom.
Jessica finally entered the room, her face blotched from retching and red from blushing. “Goodness, Jessica! Is that why you weren’t at the meeting? And come to think of it, you weren’t at church on Sunday either. Oh, honey, how long have you been sick? And here I am just dropping in on you . . .”
“I’m not sick.” Jessica stared at Dorothy, tears welling in her eyes. Her bottom lip began to quiver so she bit it, hard enough it actually hurt, which made her eyes pool all the more.
Dorothy studied the tear spilling over Jessica’s lower right lashes, took note of her lip, thought about the retching. And she knew. She knew what Jessica was unwilling to admit. “Oh, honey!” Dorothy moved toward Jessica and simply opened wide her arms. Jessica rushed right into them and sobbed on her shoulder, which caused Sarah Sue to start bawling. Dorothy held Jessica and gently patted her back, stroked her hair, spoke words encouraging Jessica to just let it out, which freed her to unabashedly wail and so she did.
“It just can’t be,” Jessica finally whimpered after her sobbing subsided, although Sarah Sue’s had kicked into full volume. She picked up her daughter and plopped down in the chair with her. Although Jessica had looked at Dorothy when she’d spoken, she couldn’t maintain her eye contact without breaking into more tears. She lifted the bottom of her sweatshirt and wiped Sarah Sue’s nose as well as her own. “Oh, Dorothy, I’m a mess in more ways than one.”
Dorothy held out her arms and Sarah Sue came right to her. She backed up and carefully seated herself, her balance not being what it used to be.
“Let me go get some tissues first,” Jessica said as she popped back up and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. She returned with a wad of four or five of them bundled in her fist. She sat down, selected one and blew her nose. Then she handed another to Dorothy for Sarah Sue.
“What am I going to do, Dorothy?” Jessica blew her nose and actually contemplated the question now that it was out there.
“Why, you’re going to have a baby! Partonville is going to have a new citizen and I just know,” Dorothy said, swiping at Sarah Sue’s face and chin while Sarah Sue batted at her hands, “that he or she will be just as sweet and as beautiful as this little cherub.” Sarah Sue beamed at Dorothy then suddenly buried her head in the crook of Dorothy’s neck. Dorothy wrapped her arms around the warm wiggly bundle and held her close. “What does Paul have to say? I’m sure he’s happy. It’s just so clear when I see you how much he adores the both of you.”
“He doesn’t know yet,” Jessica whispered. Dorothy raised an eyebrow and Jessica’s face and neck turned red again. “I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but I’ve known it in my heart of hearts for some time. I haven’t had the courage to tell Paul. Honestly, I kept hoping I’d wake up and find . . . But all I’m finding is more assurance that it’s true. I can’t put off telling him much longer, though. He’s worried I’m really ill with more than a touch of the flu.”
“How far along do you reckon you are?”
“Just far enough to be sick. With Sarah Sue, the nausea began about a month into it. I think the worst of it lasted about two more months, which is sure terrible timing with the holidays coming and business always picking up then. I tell you, I just now got caught up from the Pumpkin Festival weekend when we were all booked up.”
“You need to ask for help, honey, at least until you get through this phase.”
“We can’t afford anyone right now. We just bought that new neon sign out front. Did you see it? (her face brightening for a moment), and an answering machine and . . .”
“Your new sign is just perfect, Jessica. Why it would make anyone want to stay here. And I’m sure we can figure something out to get you some help. Don’t fret yourself now. Just be good to yourself. Do the best you can, honey. That’s all any of us can ever do anyway.”
“This is going to be a huge financial mess.” As quickly as Jessica began to look hopeful, she’d deflate again as another piece of reality hit. “And where are we even going to put another child in this tiny place?”
“I remember one single momma I knew who set up a crib right in a closet. I always thought the baby looked so cozy in there, surrounded by all those colors, soft fabrics. . . . Sleeves of the arms that held her so safe dangling right above her. . . . I’ve never forgotten those images. And think how happy Sarah Sue will be to have a little sister or brother.”
“And think how she won’t even be potty trained before this one gets here. I mean, good grief! I’m still nursing! I didn’t think I could get pregnant while I was nursi
ng.” Jessica’s shoulders slumped so low she’d nearly rolled into the posture of a lifeless slug.
“How about we don’t think anymore at all right now. How about we just have a little prayer. Okay?”
“Okay.” Jessica straightened a fraction and folded her hands together.
“Lord,” Dorothy said, bowing her head, “here we are, just as we are.” Sarah Sue grabbed hold of a few strands of Dorothy’s fine hair and gave it a yank. Dorothy kept her eyes closed but reached up to untangle the pudgy little fingers. “We are all Your children, so how about You remind us about that, especially Jessica as she struggles to come to grips with the idea she’s growing another child of Yours in her womb right as we speak.” Jessica put her hand over her abdomen and tried to will herself to ponder a child of God within her rather than a complication. “How about You give her an extra dose of peace, even in the midst of . . .”
Jessica flew up from her chair and bolted back to the bathroom. Dorothy heard the sounds of retching again shortly after the bathroom door slammed closed. Sarah Sue was too distracted with Dorothy’s fine hair and pink scalp to notice her mother was gone. “Sometimes, God, things . . . kids, are not as easy as they seem. But then You know all about that because look at us, and we’re Your kids! I’m trusting You to give us all what we need, and that includes giving Jessica the courage to tell Paul. Please soften his heart to receive the news with grace and comfort for his sweet wife. I don’t know what else they’re going to need, but I’m trusting You to supply it.” Sarah Sue was now sticking her fingers into Dorothy’s mouth, making it difficult for her to speak out loud. Dorothy, eyes still closed, heard Jessica return to the chair across from her. Sarah Sue giggled as she hooked a finger into one of Dorothy’s nostrils before flinging her hands toward her mother. Dorothy opened her eyes and looked at Jessica. With a smile and a wink she said, “I covered your back while you were gone.” Jessica gave a light chuckle, which, under the circumstances, felt mighty good. “I reckon there’s nothing left to do but say ‘Amen,’” and so they did.
As happy as it made Dorothy’s heart to learn about Jessica’s news, her heart was also pierced by the thought of all that was lost when her daughter had succumbed to breast cancer ten years ago. Dorothy adored Vinnie’s boys, her grandsons. But OH, LORD! How she would have been blessed to watch Caroline Ann, her only daughter, become a mother, had it been in God’s will for her to do so. Jessica was sweet spirited like her Caroline Ann had been. A quietness, yet so many gifts. . . . Never a day went by when Dorothy didn’t ache with the loss of her only daughter. She’d once heard someone say you never got over the loss of a child but that you eventually learned to live with it. So true. Lord, Dorothy said, brushing a tear from her eye as she walked toward her home, hold me close to Your heartbeat since I know that’s where Caroline Ann’s head is resting right now.
9
“Edward Showalter, you sure do know how to treat a lady,” Nellie Ruth sighed, her eyelids all but batting. The two of them were seated across from each other at a table for two complete with a “fabric tablecloth and napkins,” she told Dorothy the next Sunday when they were setting up the altar for church.
Edward Showalter had phoned Nellie Ruth bright and early on her day off saying he could use a ray of her sunshine on such a cloudy day, tempting her to bow out of the Social Concerns Committee meeting, which she had—a scandalous first for the ever-responsible Nellie Ruth McGregor. When he suggested either a late breakfast or an early lunch, Nellie Ruth asked him if they might try this new little place she’d recently heard about. Turned out Edward Showalter already knew it firsthand: a buddy of his owned the little café just down the street from the Now and Again Resale shop on the outskirts of Yorkville.
Nellie Ruth had first heard about A Little Piece of NYC (“Isn’t it cute how it rhymes!” Jessica had chirped) during the last Happy Hookers’ meeting when Jessica (before the mere thought of food made her stomach roll) mentioned she’d spied it during her recent visit to Now and Again Resale, which was her favorite place to shop along with Swappin’ Sam’s, of course—but he didn’t have a dedicated crafters’ corner. Although Jessica hadn’t actually been to “the Piece,” as it would quickly go on to be nicknamed, she described in great detail each clever nuance of the attractive look of the place, from the window flower boxes filled with fall foliage—but she was sure there would be geraniums in them come spring—to the romantic shadowed wooden cutouts of a couple mounted on the exterior. They were sitting at a table, forks to their open mouths. There had been quite the discussion during bunco as to what kind of food they’d find at this NYC place. “Maybe a glorified hot dog stand.” “No! It’s Chicago that’s famous for hot dogs.” “Could be bagels. Lox. Things like that.” “I think that’s ethnic, Jewish to be exact. Yes, my friend Sylvia is Jewish and she likes bagels and lox. But maybe it also implies New York. Not sure.” “Maybe it’s those sandwiches with the steak and onions, cheese and . . .” “You mean a Philly Cheese-steak? Well, that definitely isn’t New York. It’s New Jersey!” “Maybe the waitresses are just rude. Aren’t people in New York always rude? I’ve heard they’re rude.” Nellie Ruth’s curiosity had been aggressively piqued at that meeting, but now she would learn firsthand what “it” all meant.
Edward Showalter and Johnny Mathis (“No, not that one!”) had first met in a tavern “some plenty odd years ago,” they’d tell folks. It was hard to determine which one was more skunked that evening; they’d both spent the afternoon on their stools, neither employed, each having lost his job due to the bottom of countless bottles. They got to meeting up just about every afternoon until one night Johnny rolled his car on the gravel road, breaking four ribs, a leg, an arm, rupturing his spleen and peeling back his nose before the car settled on its roof and rocked to a halt in a cloud of dust. His wife, Mary, looked at him wrapped from nearly head to toe in the hospital and said, “Johnny, you either get help before you drink yourself to death or kill somebody, or I’m leaving. In fact,” she said, swallowing hard on her way out that evening when visiting hours were over, “I won’t be home when you get there. It’s time I stop paying the bills, picking up the pieces and replacing totaled cars. (This hadn’t been the first.) I’ll be at my mother’s house. You can let me know what you decide. And if you do decide you want me, then you have to first prove to me you can stay sober for more than a few weeks.” Her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, a few of them dropping to the floor with each step she took away from the man she loved.
By the time Johnny left the hospital, which was going on two weeks later, he hadn’t heard from Mary; she would neither receive nor return his calls for fear the sound of his voice would erase her resolve to stay away. He’d decided if he could stay sober this long he had a fighting chance to conquer what had surely become a demon in his life. But as his addiction would have it, he went straight to the tavern the evening of the first day he was home since he didn’t know where else to go. His house was too quiet without Mary who had, this time, meant what she’d said. At least he could count on his friends. When he swung open the tavern door he was greeted by the familiar strains of country western music wafting from the jukebox. The bartender nodded a greeting and automatically started to draw him a beer. Johnny waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before he headed toward his usual stool. He was aware of every sore bone and muscle in his body as he climbed up and he didn’t even attempt to hide the painful grimace on his still somewhat black-, blue- and yellow-bruised face. Although the doctor had warned him about drinking while taking the medications, he figured a beer or two wouldn’t hurt. In fact, he figured they could probably do a better pain-killing job than the drugs anyway.
“Welcome back,” Edward Showalter said, raising his mug in a toast before gulping his last drops and ordering another. As the bartender plunked a cardboard coaster down in front of Johnny and set his beer on it, Edward Showalter instructed him to “Put the gimp’s on my tab.” He winked a
t Johnny who picked up the beer and lifted it to Edward Showalter in a thank-you salute. Johnny thought about how good that beer looked: perfect head, golden wheat color, enticing fragrance . . . he could hardly wait until that first refreshing swallow slid down his throat and he could lick the delicious froth from around the corners of his mouth. They clinked glasses and simultaneously said, “To liquid gold.” The two of them had come up with the familiar toast—and countless life-altering inventions they would never pursue—shortly into their daily ritual.
Before the brew was to Johnny’s lips, out of nowhere an image of his wedding day flashed into his mind. Mary was looking at him with adoring eyes. “For better or for worse,” he heard her saying in his head, “but Johnny, I never thought it could get this bad.” He shook his head to clear it. His sweet Mary, gone now, unless . . . He started to again raise the glass to his mouth, but she was still in his mind’s eye, her sorrowful eyes shooting unspoken pleas his way while she choked back her tears as she left the hospital room. He looked at the mug perched in front of his face, licked his lips and swallowed down his own spit.
“To hell with liquid gold!” He slammed the mug down on the bar sending a geyser of beer into the air causing Edward to jump and the bartender to reach for a bar towel. There would be no easy wipe-up, though, since Johnny next shoved the mug away from him and it skidded sideways through the spill until it fell crashing to the floor.
Dearest Dorothy, Who Would Have Ever Thought?! Page 9