Dunaway's Crossing (13 page)

Will slapped Buster’s behind lightly with the reins, and the horse pulled the wagon onto the road to travel the last mile to the crossing. His memories of last night’s dream receded to make room for present concerns. How would he manage building coffins and running the store? Could he ask Bea Dot to help out even more? He hated taking advantage of her willingness to pitch in. Then again, she did seem to enjoy the work more for herself than for him. He liked that. His requests for assistance always made her beam, and those beautiful grins always made his insides swim like minnows circling a bait pail. He smiled at the thought of Bea Dot humming behind the counter, dutifully keeping track of all the sales.

Then he checked himself.
Damn it, Dunaway, stop it
. Ralph and Netta had encouraged him to seek out a young lady’s company. Just his luck that the first woman he’d taken a liking to was married.

#

Knit two, knit two together, knit two, slip…No, that wasn’t right. Netta pulled her stitches out again. She’d pulled out three rows in the past hour.

Purl two, purl two together…

She put her needles in her lap and wiggled her fat fingers, tingling at each movement. Her swelling worsened each day, making more difficult her knitting and writing, the two tasks she had to do most of. When she wasn’t working on the layette, she composed her daily page to Ralph, praying for him constantly. She also prayed the telephone would ring and Ralph would tell her to come home.

She shifted in her rocker—she just barely fit in it now—as the back door opened. Bea Dot entered with a large basket on her hip, her cheeks pink from the October breeze. Her black curls had sprung from their pins, and she swiped them away from her face with a raw, cracked hand. “I must look like Medusa,” she said. “The wind is picking up out there.”

“Well, I look like Jack should chop me down from a beanstalk.” Netta chuckled and waited for a contradiction that didn’t come. Stung by Bea Dot’s silence, she picked up her knitting again.

“I’ve gotten my sleeves wet doing the laundry,” Bea Dot said after a short pause. “And my hands are blocks of ice. I’m going to stand by the stove.” And with that, she went into the kitchen.

Oh, no thank you, Bea Dot
, Netta grumbled in her head.
I don’t need anything, but it’s so thoughtful of you to ask
. Netta closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, chastising herself for her grumpiness, which grew with her girth. In her discomfort, Netta often let Bea Dot’s poor housekeeping skills irritate her. Repeatedly, she’d had to check her surly attitude and remind herself her cousin was trying her best at doing the laundry and minding the kitchen. Still, Netta assured herself she’d never again complain about Lola’s work.

When she stood to stretch her back, her large middle shifted on its own. She put her hand on her side and felt a little lump—was it a foot or a hand?—roll under her skin and across her torso. “How big will you be when you’re born?” she asked her child, whom she’d taken to calling Little Ralph. The baby’s recent activity made her think it was a boy. “I hope you’ll fit into these clothes I made for you.”

Voices from the kitchen interrupted her thoughts. Will must be home. Her heart thumped in her chest, but she told it to stop, daring not to get her hopes up. She’d received no other telephone calls, no letters, nothing, since she spoke to Ralph three days ago. She waddled into the kitchen to hear whether Will had news from town, willing herself not to be disappointed if he didn’t.

“Where’s Netta?” he asked. She found him holding a plate of last night’s ham while Bea Dot stood by warming her hands at the stove. Netta shook her head in disbelief, wondering how Bea Dot could stand there and let Will make his own lunch.

“Will, you’re home sooner than we expected,” she said, shuffling to the table and resting her hands on one of its straight-backed chairs. These days, sitting was no more comfortable than standing. “Are you hungry?” She lilted her voice, a signal that Bea Dot should offer to make him a plate. But Bea Dot only turned to face Netta, warming her back side. Giving up on her cousin, Netta reached for the plate of ham. “Let me make you some lunch.”

“No, no.” Will pulled the plate away before Netta could touch it. “I’m making sandwiches. Have a seat. You’ll eat one, won’t you?” He cut thick slices of ham, and Bea Dot went to the cupboard and pulled out three cups, which she filled with water. At least her cousin had the wherewithal to do that.

“How were things in Pineview?” Netta asked tentatively, unsure whether she really wanted news. She eased herself into a chair.

“About the same,” Will said, now slicing the bread. “I didn’t see Ralph, but I didn’t stay in town long—just picked up my order and came straight home.” He gave her an apologetic look.

Netta lifted her eyebrows and nodded. Why should the report be any different?

“I do need to talk to you about something,” he said, placing a plate in front of her. The chunk of ham between thick slices of bread resembled a tongue poking out of a fat man’s mouth. Netta missed Lola’s cooking.

Will and Bea Dot joined her at the table. Will bit into his sandwich, but Bea Dot picked up a piece of bread and spread butter on it and ate her ham with a knife and fork. Netta did the same.

“What do you need to tell us?” Bea Dot asked.

Will swallowed, then spoke. “I talked to Harley this morning.” He turned to Bea Dot. “That’s the undertaker’s man.” To both of them he continued, “He says Pritchett is overwhelmed with work. Evidently his supplier hasn’t kept up with demand, and he can’t conduct funerals without making coffins.”

The morsel of ham Netta had eaten turned to stone in her stomach. She put down her knife and fork. Just how many coffins did Pritchett need?

“But what does that have to do with you?” Bea Dot asked. Netta already knew.

Will cleared his throat, obviously stalling his reply. “He, uh, he wants me to build some coffins for him.” He turned a knife in his hand, gazing at it as if it were a puzzling new tool.

After a pause, Bea Dot asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“A few days, I think. Depends on how fast I can work.” He faced Bea Dot. “I hope you won’t mind helping me out at the store.”

Netta couldn’t help noticing that Will wouldn’t meet her own eyes. She knew he was trying not to alarm her, but what he didn’t seem to realize was the more he didn’t say, the more nervous she became. Fear and disappointment gripped her, and she searched for words. Fortunately, Bea Dot found them for her.

“Are you the only person who can help?”

Will gave her a puzzled frown.

“I mean,” Bea Dot continued carefully, “does this Mr. Harley know that Netta and I are here? Does he know Netta is so close to her time?”

“He knows you’re here.” Will nodded and finally eyed Netta with a considerate smile  “But I didn’t offer particulars about Miss Netta’s condition.”

How irksome. He was about to leave her in the pine forest with no way to get to town. Protecting her privacy was the least of her concerns at the moment. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure Bea Dot and Will could see her chest thumping.

“While I hate to be an obstacle to Mr. Pritchett’s needs,” she said, “I must say I’d feel terribly insecure without you here.” She patted her forehead with the rough rag she used as a napkin. Suddenly the room was too warm.

“How will we get Netta to Pineview when the baby comes?” Bea Dot asked. “You’ll have your wagon in town.”

Will frowned at Bea Dot as if she’d asked him to untie a Gordian knot. “Miss Bea Dot, I doubt Ralph intended for you two to return to Pineview for the birth.”

“What?” Bea Dot asked.

Netta’s jaw dropped as her muscles tensed in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is,” Will raised his hands in defense, “I don’t think Ralph has thought that far ahead. No one expected influenza to be this serious.” He lay his palms on the table. “But I’ve given it some thought, and I think I have a solution.” He turned to Bea Dot. “I’ll need you to come with me for a while.” To Netta, he said, “I’ll have her back before you know it.”

Netta’s chin wrinkled as a lump clogged her throat. She willed her tears to stay put. How could this be happening? After all the trials she’d endured, how could she face having her first and likely only baby in the back room of a country store? Now was no time for risks. She must have Ralph’s help. As Will and Bea Dot rose from the table, they left Netta in the kitchen, still biting her lip to keep from crying.

Damn this influenza.

Sniffing and wiping an errant tear with her sleeve, Netta cleared the dishes and put away the ham and bread before escaping to the back porch, where she let the tears flow freely. She already knew Will’s plan, that Eliza Taylor could deliver the baby. Well, that wouldn’t do. Netta put her hands on her hips in silent determination. So what if Eliza had delivered all of her children at home? She hadn’t suffered three miscarriages. This baby should be born in  under Ralph’s care.

The back door opened, and Bea Dot emerged wearing a riding shirt and pants that hung loosely on her petite frame. She looked like a little girl playing dress up. Bea Dot smiled self-consciously as she tugged at her clothes. “They belonged to Will’s mother,” she said, pushing the shirt’s cuff off her knuckles and up to her wrist. She had rolled the pants up to shorten them. “I suppose he got his height from her.”

Netta turned her face away, almost sickened by Bea Dot’s silly smile. Honestly, if she didn’t know better, she’d think her cousin had developed a school girl crush on Will Dunaway. The cousins stood side by side, gazing over the water. To the left of the porch, the laundry billowed in the breeze, the sheets and shirts snapping in the wind.

“I’ll bring that laundry in when I get back,” Bea Dot said quietly.

Netta stared at the water, refusing to respond to such a trivial remark. Who could think of laundry anymore? After a few seconds, Bea Dot spoke again.

“Netta, I can tell you’re nervous. I am too, but I think we must trust Will that we’ll be all right.”

“I suppose so, considering I have no choice in the matter.” Aggravation got the best of her. As dependable as Will was, some problems he couldn’t fix.

“I’m…I’m just as concerned as you are, but I doubt Will would put us in harm’s way.”

Out of patience, Netta turned sharply on Bea Dot, whose big round eyes widened in surprise. “We are already in harm’s way, dear cousin. We have been ever since this flu came to Pineview.” Her voice cracked as it escalated, and she raised her arms to each side as she spoke. “My husband is especially in harm’s way. So please do not speak to me as if I’m a child, Bea Dot Ferguson.”

“On the contrary, Netta, I am trying to look at this situation like a practical adult, which is far from what I see you doing.” Bea Dot’s stern voice also revealed an attempt to keep its volume in check. “Do you think I’m not scared of what might happen? If you give birth out here, guess who gets to deliver it?” She pointed her finger at her chest. “Me. I certainly do not relish the thought of that possibility.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be in this predicament,” Netta held her palm to her chest, then leaned in closer, so close that she could see the flecks of gold in Bea Dot’s brown eyes. “I’ve lost three babies already.” She held up as many fingers. “Three. And now that this one’s survived this long, I’m going to bear it out here in the middle of nowhere while my husband’s tending other people’s wives and children.” She clinched her fists in frustration. “And there’s not one thing I can do about that.”

Bea Dot stiffened as she stepped back. She didn’t frown, but anger flashed in her eyes. Netta braced herself for Bea Dot’s petulant temper, but surprisingly, Bea Dot replied with cool reserve.

“No, I don’t know what that’s like. But I’ll tell you what I do know.” Bea Dot pointed to Netta’s middle. “I know that your baby has done nothing but thrive and grow since you arrived here. And in spite of your good health, you’ve done nothing but worry about a possible disaster. If the worst thing that happens is you deliver a healthy child at Dunaway’s Crossing, then you have much to be thankful for. I’m sorry you lost three babies, Netta, but at least those babies weren’t beaten out of you the way mine was.”

That last remark slapped Netta with shame. Bea Dot had never spoken of her ordeal, and Netta had forgotten about it.

“Will has to take me somewhere,” Bea Dot said calmly. “We won’t be long.”

“Bea Dot, wait,” Netta stammered. “I’m…”

But Bea Dot had already turned her back on Netta and gone inside.

Bea Dot pushed the door closed a little too hard as she left Netta on the porch calling after her. Invoking Ben’s abuse had been a low blow, especially considering Bea Dot’s miscarriage had been a relief. But she’d had enough of Netta’s incessant worry. Sometimes one had to play the cards she was dealt. Bea Dot had learned that lesson the hard way.

What the cousins needed now was time apart. Bea Dot crossed the store and took a wool coat off a hook by the front door. She slipped it on before stepping outside, and it swallowed her whole. Clutching it close, she walked around the building and found Will in the barn strapping a bit between Buster’s teeth. The barn smelled of hay, and golden dust floated in the sun peeking through the barn’s wooden slats.