“Oh?” I stared out at the water.
“Yup. She seemed pretty upset—said she didn’t feel well, and asked Earl to take her home. Veronica packed up two plates of dinner to take with ’em.”
“Hmmm.” I bit my lip to keep from saying something I’d regret. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Funny thing,” he said. “After they left, Atticus was huddled in conversation with Veronica, and then he pulled Father aside. When they were done talkin’, Father insisted it was time for him and Mother to go home as well.”
“Hmmm,” I said again. “That’s strange.”
Pulling his arm back, Will skipped another rock across the water’s surface. “It is, isn’t it?”
The silence stretched thick between us, as though Will was waiting for me to respond. When I said nothing, he continued. “The interestin’ thing is, Veronica refused to make a plate for Mother and Father to take with ’em, and Father refused to wait for Mother to make ’em herself. It seems he couldn’t get her home fast enough.”
“Hmmm.”
Will turned toward me, his eyes studying me while he decided upon his next words. “So, ya see, I finally asked Veronica what’d happened.”
“What’d she say?” I whispered.
“She said it wasn’t her place to say, but she sent me out here to find ya. She said you’d tell me, if ya wanted.”
I swallowed hard, my throat now aching with unshed tears. “I see.”
“So I’m thinkin’ something happened when we were workin’ on the corral. Julianne couldn’t get away fast enough, and Veronica’s hoppin’ mad at my mother. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her so angry. Then there’s you. Here y’are out alone by the creek skippin’ rocks—poorly, I might add—and I have the distinct impression you’re upset. Maybe more upset than I’ve ever seen ya.”
I bit hard on my lip, counting on the pain to keep my focus on not crying.
Will took my shoulders and turned me to face him. Then, taking both of my hands, he stared into my eyes. “Tell me what happened. I know it was somethin’ to do with my mother.”
I’d held the tears as long as I could. Will’s words were the catalyst that set them free. As the first drops of tears landed on my cheeks, he pulled me into his arms and whispered words of comfort.
“Shhh—Just tell me. What’d she say? We’ll work it out.”
Once the first tears had fallen, there was no holding them back. To my embarrassment, they ran like rivers down both sides of my cheeks. Will’s mother had not only shocked me; she’d shamed me. I knew I would never gain acceptance from this woman, and I was finally done trying.
Will leaned back and lifted my chin with the knuckle and thumb of his right hand. “Tell me what she said.”
“Oh, Will,” I whispered. “Ya don’t wanna know. Truly. It’s not somethin’ ya need to hear.”
“Wrong. Whatever she said has upset ya. I need to know what it is. Now, tell me.”
I took a deep breath and stared at the ground at my feet. “She overheard us talkin’ about the baby. I had no choice but to tell her. She asked me …”
“What’d she ask, Victoria? I need to know.”
I took a deep breath and lifted my chin even higher, then closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at Will when I said the words. “She asked me who the baby’s father is.”
Will went completely still, and anger radiated from him in hot waves. “She didn’t.”
I nodded. I was deeply hurt; but, more than that, I was embarrassed. Is that really what she thought of me? If so, how many others would she tell?
Pulling me close once again, Will kissed the crown of my head. “I’m done. This is somethin’ I can’t tolerate. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. If she were a man, I’d beat her within an inch of her life.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, Victoria. It’s not fine. Nothin’ about the way she’s treated you—or Hannah before ya—has been fine. I thought she’d eventually come ’round, but I can see that’s not gonna happen. She wants me to choose? Fine. I choose you.”
“What’re ya sayin’?”
“I’m sayin’ I’m done. She’s backed me into a corner, and I don’t like bein’ backed into a corner. There is only one decision in this situation. I choose my wife. She’s not welcome here anymore, and we won’t be goin’ to see Veronica and Atticus so long as they’re still livin’ on the same property. It’s that simple.”
“No! Ya can’t do that. She’s your mother!”
“She was my mother, and you’re my wife. She should know by now I’d never choose her over you. Now c’mon. Let’s go on up to the house. I need to pay a visit to my mother, and I wanna make sure you’re okay.”
Taking my hand and placing it in the crook of his arm, Will led me back toward the house.
“What’re ya gonna do?” I asked.
“Don’t you worry about that, Victoria. I can’t tell ya how sorry I am, but I promise it’ll be the last time she says or does anything to ya so long as I’m here on this earth.” Will gritted his teeth until I thought they might crack.
“I don’t wanna come between you and your mother,” I said. “Really. I was upset by what she said, but I’ll get over it.”
“Ya might get over it, or ya might not. But I swore to honor ya. I can’t honor ya if I allow my mother to get away with treatin’ ya so dishonorably. What she said is reprehensible! Don’tcha see that? I could almost ignore her rudeness, but she’s gone too far this time. If I don’t draw a line now, where and when does it stop?”
“Let’s just sleep on it,” I pleaded.
“No.” Will shook his head. “I should’ve done this long ago. This isn’t your fault; this is my mother’s doin’. It ends tonight.”
Reaching the house, we found Veronica and Atticus cleaning up the leftover dinner that had never taken place. Veronica sent me a questioning glance, while Will addressed Atticus.
“I need to run over to your place and talk to Mother and Father for a bit. Can ya stay here with Victoria and keep her company? I don’t think she should be alone right now.”
“Will, I’m fine,” I interrupted. “Really. Don’t go. Please.”
“I have to, Victoria.”
Veronica stepped toward me and looped her arm through mine. “He’s right, Victoria. It’s been comin’ a long time. Go on, Will. We’ve got it covered here. D’ya want Atticus to go with ya?”
“Doesn’t matter what Will wants,” Atticus said. “I’ll go, too. Mother has behaved badly for the last time. It’s long past time she understood her behavior won’t be tolerated.”
“Okay, then. We’ll be here,” Veronica said, leading me into the house.
“Will?” I said, resisting Veronica. “Please don’t go. Ya really don’t need to do this.”
Coming toward me and taking me once again in his arms, Will held me tight and kissed my forehead. “Yes, Victoria. I really do need to do this. I’ll be back soon.”
With those words, Will and Atticus saddled the horses and rode out to see their mother.
I NEVER LEARNED what Will said to his mother. He never would say. I do know she and his father never visited again. They continued living with Veronica and Atticus, who visited us from time to time, but we never made the short trip over to visit with them. Will meant what he’d said. His mother was dead to him. As far as I know she never laid eyes on him again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE FINAL DAYS OF SUMMER CREPT TO A close, and soon it was autumn. In late September we celebrated my nineteenth birthday. The girls took over my chores for the day and prepared a special meal that evening. Will found a meadow of black-eyed Susans and presented me with a lovely bouquet. Carefully, I trimmed the stems and placed them on our table to show them off. They’d not only become my favorite flower, but they were the only flower I ever again wished to receive.
Winter came early that year and, with it, the blistering cold. And Christmas. Anticipating my dislike for the holiday, Will to
ok extra care to make it unique and festive. For the first time in many years, I enjoyed the celebrations and participated with joy; and nearly forgot the pain that, for me, had always accompanied the season.
In March, Julianne delivered a healthy baby boy, whom she and Earl proudly named Theodore James. I was too large with child by this time to travel even the one mile for the baby’s birth, but Veronica was summoned and helped bring this new little person into the world. Julianne survived the delivery with ease, visiting us only days later to show off her new bundle. Studying his tiny face, excitement raced through me. My own baby would arrive soon.
March bled into April, and I neared the end of my term. The chores had become difficult, so Caroline and Olivia pitched in. They were wonderful girls, and I felt truly blessed to call them my friends.
On April 12, 1925, with the help of Veronica and Julianne, our first child was born—a girl. Grace Elizabeth Harrison came into the world angry and purple, not at all pleased at leaving the warmth of the cozy home she’d enjoyed for nine months. Her hair was fiery red, the exact shade my mother’s had been. Her eyes were the color of cornflowers, almost identical to my daddy’s. Gazing at her tiny features, the fear I’d carried for so long disappeared. Grace’s birth brought with it healing, and I finally understood my mother’s despair at the loss of my brother.
As Grace wrapped her tiny fist around my pinky, my anger vanished as though it hadn’t been my constant companion for eleven years. My heart was too full of love, and there was no room left for anger to reside.
AFTER GRACE’S BIRTH, the babies came fast and at regular intervals. Jackson Ellis was born in January 1927, followed by Ethan Thomas in May 1929, and Sara Jane in November 1930. All but Ethan inherited the brilliant copper of my mother’s hair. Ethan, on the other hand, was the image of Will. From the golden wheat color of his hair, to the deep dimple in his left cheek, that boy was his father’s son.
Julianne only had one more baby, Constance Marie, born in April 1930. As we’d hoped, our children were playmates and the best of friends.
In the spring of 1929, Caroline and Olivia—now twenty and eighteen—began courting brothers from a neighboring farm, about three miles down the road. The young men, John and Jefferson Janicek, were the grandsons of Czechoslovakian immigrants who’d staked a claim in the original Land Run of 1889. They had recently inherited that same land from their grandfather, who had raised them, and soon erected a second house some quarter of a mile away from the first. Now settled and searching for wives, their attentions turned to Caroline and Olivia, who both eagerly returned their affections.
Late that summer of 1929, Caroline and Olivia married John and Jefferson Janicek in a dual ceremony in the back yard of our home. Presiding over the ceremony was Reverend Patterson, now bent with age, but pleased to perform this rite for the next generation.
I was happy for Caroline and Olivia, but sorry to see them leave our home. They’d both been good friends to me. They’d welcomed me and treated me with kindness, and I would forever cherish them for that love.
In the fall of 1929, Will’s father suffered a stroke and never recovered his full energy. Though Will frequently visited his father to check on his health, he was always careful to arrange his visits around his mother’s trips to town. The years had passed, and he still refused to see her. I didn’t miss her, but I’m sure he must have. He never said.
In late October of that same year, the stock market crashed in what became known as Black Tuesday. As farmers, we had nothing invested in the stock market, so we weren’t directly affected by the crash. We knew people who were, though. Many of those we’d grown up with, or who’d been my neighbors in town, lost everything.
It was now November 1931. Will and I had welcomed four children in eight years, and I was expecting our fifth in late March. I was happier than I’d ever been. Will was as excited with the announcement of each baby as he had been with the first. Together we now had nine children, with the tenth due in only a few short months.
Thanksgiving that year was joyful. We’d invited Mother Elizabeth and Father Caleb for dinner, along with Caroline, Olivia, and their families. Caroline was expecting her second child, and Olivia was due with her first in mid-April. Julianne and Earl came with both of their children; but Jacob was spending the holiday with the family of a young lady he’d begun courting, and whom we were certain would become part of the family soon. Joseph and Daniel had passed their eighteenth birthday, and Will had gifted them each a plot of land adjacent to our own. As single young men with limited cooking skills, they spent as many mealtimes at our home as they did at their own.
The house overflowed with food, laughter, and the pounding of far too many children’s feet in such a confined space. Our family had grown, and Will and I were the head of this boisterous family. The joy I’d never known as a child now consumed me. The only thing missing was Veronica and Atticus with their boys. Due to the continued estrangement of Will and his mother, Atticus felt they should spend the holiday with his parents. He couldn’t leave them alone, and I understood.
Dinner was a raucous affair, with each person talking over the other, and different conversations taking place in each corner. Our table was too small for everyone, so the boys carried in several sawhorses from the barn and laid large sheets of plywood over the tops to make one table that extended the entire length of the front room. We covered this makeshift table with bed linens for tablecloths. In the center of everything was a large tom turkey Will had butchered from our back acres the day before. He and the twins had plucked the feathers, then presented it to me that morning to prepare and stuff with dressing. Caroline and Olivia brought casseroles of sweet potato and green beans preserved from their gardens, and Julianne brought potatoes she’d stored in her cellar. With the cream and butter from our cows, we made fresh mashed potatoes. Mother Elizabeth supplied the desserts. It was the most delicious meal I could ever remember having.
With the adults and older children seated at the large table, and the youngest children seated around a smaller table nearby, we dined in grand fashion. All except Will, who wasn’t feeling well. Though he enjoyed the conversation, and loved having the family around us, his stomach was giving him trouble. He barely touched his food, instead pushing it around his plate without eating. I watched him throughout the day with concern—nobody hated waste more than Will. The last thing we needed was for him to get sick. The boys needed him on the farm. Our family counted on him to get by.
CHAPTER TWENTY
PREPARING FOR BED THAT NIGHT, I WAS BOTH exhausted and exhilarated. I’d never dreamed I’d have so many people under one roof, all of them my own family.
“Ya didn’t eat much at dinner,” I said to Will as I crawled into bed beside him.
“My belly’s been hurtin’ somethin’ fierce all day,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I could keep anything down.”
“I wondered at that. Doesn’t seem like you not to be hungry.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“Don’t be. I’m just sorry ya couldn’t enjoy the day. That’s the best meal we’ve had in ages, and I’m not sure we’ll have another like it again anytime soon.”
“Anythin’ left?”
“Not much. I put a plate aside for ya in case ya felt like eatin’ some later.”
“Thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”
Will sat up and pulled his shirt over his head then slipped out of his overalls, one leg at a time, leaving himself clad in only the long underwear he wore beneath his clothing during those cold winter months. Stretching slightly, he winced as he hung his clothes on the peg by the door.
“Is it that painful?” I asked.
“Ah, it’s nothin’.” He pulled back the bed sheets and climbed into bed.
Scooting over to Will’s side, I snuggled up close to him.
“Careful, darlin’.” He stiffened. “My gut’s not feelin’ right, and I don’t know if I’m gonna be sick or what. Best not get too close.”
“Maybe a water bottle.”
I slipped out of bed, not bothering to throw a robe over my nightgown, and padded on bare feet to the kitchen. Finding a water bottle in the cabinet, I placed a pot of water on the stove and warmed it.
When I returned, Will was lying on his left side with his knees tucked up toward his chest. He exhaled and inhaled in shallow puffs. I watched him a moment then, lifting his left arm, I gently laid the water bottle next to his belly, anchoring it with a pillow to keep it snug.
“Careful, darlin’,” he said. “It’s pretty painful at the moment.”
“Are ya sure you’re okay?”
“I’m alright. It’ll pass on here shortly.”
Crawling into bed, careful not to jostle him unnecessarily, I scooted close behind him and draped my arm over his shoulder to share his warmth.
“Does that help any, d’ya think?” I asked.
“Some maybe,” he said, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. He was in far more pain than he let on.
I closed my eyes and listened to Will breathe. Each time I thought the pain had eased, his body stiffened and his breathing became exaggerated.
“Can I do anything?” I whispered, in case he’d dropped off to sleep.
“Nah, honey. It’ll be okay. If I don’t feel better here soon, I’ll get up and take some bakin’ soda.”
With not much I could do to help, I eased off to sleep.
WILL SLEPT RESTLESSLY that night, and I lost count of how many times I was awakened by his quiet groans of discomfort. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I refreshed his water bottle and found some baking soda and insisted he take it. It wasn’t until nearly 3:00 a.m. before he settled down into a deep sleep.
The sun was just peeking above the horizon when I awakened. Sitting up, I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Will was resting easily, but it had been a long night for him. Slipping out of bed, I dressed in the quiet of the morning, then gently eased open our door to begin breakfast.
The Edge of Nowhere Page 11