Dunaway's Crossing (5 page)

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I hope she gets better soon,” Netta said. Poor Mr. Bradley looked so helpless. His wife must have been feeling terrible to cause such a concerned expression. “There’s no telephone at the Taylors’ house, but I can call Dunaway’s Crossing and ask Will to convey a message.”

Mr. Bradley raised his eyebrows with a bit of hope. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m much obliged.” He put on his hat and left.

As Netta closed the front door, the back screen door slammed again, making Netta flinch. She opened her mouth to reprimand Lola, but she stopped, remembering Ralph’s words. Netta shuffled back into the kitchen, where she found her maid putting on an apron.

“Thank you for running that errand for me, Lola.”

Lola cocked her head with surprise in her eyes. “Yes ma’am.”

“Doctor Coolidge has already come and gone,” Netta said. She thought she detected a glint in Lola’s eyes that said, “I told you so,” but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “But he’d like to have chicken salad for dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lola replied. “What you want for lunch?”

Netta picked up a
Farmer’s Almanac
and fanned her face with it. How could she eat anything in this heat? For the baby’s sake, though, she had to.

“Could you just put some milk on ice chips for me please? And maybe some toast and jam?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Just call me when it’s ready.” She started down the hallway toward the telephone. Thank goodness Will had installed a phone at the crossing. Ralph would be able to help more patients that way.

Dear Netta,

Thank you for your letter and for your gracious invitation. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I must decline. In your last weeks of pregnancy, the last thing you need is a guest in your house. I would be more of a hindrance than a help—

“Why’d you write that?”

“Good Lord,” Bea Dot exclaimed as she jumped, scratching black ink across her note paper. “You scared me to death, Cal.” She tore the page of stationery into small pieces. “Why do you look over my shoulder like that? You know I hate it.”

California placed a glass of iced water on Bea Dot’s desk. Bea Dot picked it up immediately and held it against her cheek, then her chest. The water vibrated at the rapid thump of her heart, and the cool glass relieved her from the heavy, sticky midday air.

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” California fussed. “You asked for a glass a water. I can’t help it if I see what you writing.” She held out her wide hand, and Bea Dot placed the torn paper in it. “Why you ain’t going to Pineview?”

Bea Dot rose and stood next to the open window. A breeze blew her shift against her body. The warm air was little relief, but moving air was better than nothing. California dropped the shreds of the letter into the waste paper basket, then joined Bea Dot at the window.

“Why you ain’t going, Miss Bea Dot?” This time her voice was softer, even maternal. She handed Bea Dot a fan, which she waved furiously in front of her face.

“The only reason Netta invited me is that Aunt Lavinia asked her to.”

“Your aunt put the idea in her head, but Miss Netta a grown woman, and you know her. She make her own decisions. If she invited you, she want you to come. She said she miss you.”

Bea Dot raised her eyes at California. “You read her letter to me?”

“Well, you left it on the desk yesterday,” Cal avoided Bea Dot’s eyes as she answered. “I couldn’t help seeing it as I was dusting.”

“You shouldn’t have read it.”

“Why you being so private now? I know everything about you,” Cal’s voice rose with petulance as she turned to face her mistress. “Go visit your cousin, Miss Bea Dot.”

“Hmph.” Bea Dot put her hand on her hip. “First thing she’ll do is tell me I should have listened to her about marrying Ben. Always has to say ‘I told you so.’ And she’ll have me knitting and sewing night and day. I can hear her now.  ‘You’re doing the cross stitch?’” Bea Dot mimicked her cousin’s polite but bossy voice.  “‘Don’t you think the chain stitch would be prettier?’”

California offered a knowing smile, then crossed her arms in front of her. “So you’d rather put up with Mr. Ben’s bullying than Miss Netta’s bossiness. That’s what you saying?”

Bea Dot studied California’s face, the lips drawn tight, the wrinkles across the lifted forehead. She hated it when Cal was right.

“You got no good reason to stay, Miss Bea Dot, but you got lots a reasons to go.”

Bea Dot sighed. “All right. I’ll go.”

California nodded. “That more like it.” She pulled a dust rag out of her apron pocket and turned to leave the room. “You might as well call for a ticket on the morning train. Your trunk’s all packed.”

#

Bea Dot and Ben faced each other from opposite ends of the dining room table, the only sounds the clinking of silver against china. Their eyes barely met, but instead focused on the baked flounder, cucumbers and tomato slices. Throughout the meal, Bea Dot had been summoning the gumption to tell Ben she was leaving, but with each swallow, she lost her nerve. She glanced at his plate, almost empty.
It’s now or never
, she told herself, then pulled Netta’s letter out of her pocket and placed it on the damask tablecloth. “I’ve had a letter from Netta.”

Ben stopped his fork in mid air and eyed Bea Dot with surprise. “I saw no such letter in this afternoon’s mail.”

“Please don’t misunderstand.” Bea Dot’s heart pounded at Ben’s suspicion. Her temperature rose in anticipation of an outburst. “I didn’t touch your mail. This letter came yesterday. It was special delivery, so the postman brought it to me in the morning while you were at the office.” She held her breath, bracing for a reaction.

His shoulders relaxed, then Bea Dot’s. Good. He’d believed her. He put his fork down, leaned back in his chair and put his napkin on the table. “A special delivery, eh? Must be an important letter. You haven’t heard from her in…How long has it been?”

“Well, it is important, actually.” She picked up the envelope and turned it in her hands as she spoke. “Netta’s expecting a baby, and she’s entered her confinement. She’d like me to come to Pineview to help her.” Bea Dot had kept her eyes on her hands, but she forced herself to meet Ben’s gaze.

Skeptically he asked, “Help her do what?”

“Oh, you know,” Bea Dot continued casually, her heart still galloping in her chest, “prepare the nursery, make the layette. I’m sure she has some house chores she can’t do on her own.”

“She doesn’t have a girl to do that for her?”

Bea Dot paused. Why was he being so contrary? She thought he would be glad for her to go.

“I don’t know about that. She didn’t say anything in the letter.”

“You’ve deceived me before,” he said coolly, as if reading her mind. “How do I know you really intend to visit your cousin?”

So that was it.

“I have her letter here,” she told him.

“Let me see it,” he said, holding his hand out.

Bea Dot rose and took the envelope to him, then returned to her seat, a knot growing in her stomach. Ben’s inquiry made her feel like a criminal before a judge. She waited as he read the letter. What would she do if he said no? Leave anyway?

He put the letter down and eyed Bea Dot again, this time from under the hood of his brow. “My parents still expect me to have a son. We can’t very well do that if you’re off in Pine Needle.”

“Pineview,” Bea Dot corrected him. At the thought of conceiving a child with him, she pushed her plate aside. “Remember that Dr. Arnold advised me to take some time before having more children. Actually, he recommended that I get away for a while.” She felt her pulse quicken again. Ben hated being corrected.

“So he did,” he nodded. “When would you want to leave?”

Bea Dot almost deflated with relief. “In the morning.”

“So soon? You have this trip all planned out, don’t you?”

Bea Dot shrugged and attempted a smile. “No time like the present.”

Ben he pondered her request. Then he stood and said, “Two weeks. Then I’ll expect you home. I’ll not have people thinking you’ve run off and abandoned me.”

He left her at the table, where she stayed a few minutes, unsure if she should feel insulted from his remark or relieved at his consent. She opted for feeling nothing and went to her room.

What Bea Dot loved most about her bedroom was the adjacent bathroom, which Ben had had installed for her as a wedding gift, before he knew about her deception. Especially during the sweltering summer, Bea Dot relished a soak in a cool bath. Some days she’d have to peel her clothes off before washing away the sweat, grime, and shame of her sham of a marriage. Since her miscarriage, Bea Dot’s bathroom had become even more of a refuge. She reclined against the porcelain and wondered if Netta had indoor plumbing. Probably not, in such a small country town. Tonight’s bath might be her last for a couple of weeks, so she stayed in the water until her fingers and toes pruned.

When she got out, she dusted herself with talcum powder and slipped into her seersucker robe, her drabbest, but also her coolest. California must have packed her other one in the trunk sitting at the foot of her bed. Bea Dot sat at her dressing table, took the pins out of her dark, curly hair, and brushed it.

After a soft knock at the door, California poked her head into the room. “Miss Bea Dot?”

“Yes, Cal. Come in.” Bea Dot met her gaze via the reflection in the mirror.

She entered and stood in front of Bea Dot, towering over her as Bea Dot sat on her stool. California held a brown canvas sack. She’d removed her apron, so her fraying shirt and skirt revealed their age. Her brown boots, dull with miles of wear, must have taken her to Atlanta and back over the years. Bea Dot wondered if they had holes in the soles.

“Less you got something else for me, I’ll be going. My niece just come and say she need me home cause Matilda gone to see Miss Jubilee who got the sick headache.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, California. I hope she feels better soon.”

“She always do. Well, I spose this goodbye for a spell. You have a good trip and say hello to Miss Netta for me.”

“Thank you, Cal. I will, and I’ll see you when I get home.” Bea Dot smiled and joked, “You might enjoy having me gone for a while.”

California chuckled and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Miss Bea Dot. Mr. Ben ain’t no cake walk, but I’ll look after him.” She paused a beat, then added, “I sorry I got you in this mess, but I think this trip gone help both of you.”

Bea Dot sighed, and then, as if taking a giant risk, stood and embraced California. “Oh, Cal. Nothing is your fault. You’ve always taken good care of me.” She breathed in the odor of sweat, dinner, and dishwater. California had smelled that way as long as Bea Dot had known her.

“Child,” California said, taking Bea Dot’s shoulders and holding her at arm’s length, “you done had your bath. Don’t go hugging on me and getting dirty again.”

Bea Dot nodded and smiled.

“You gone be fine. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Bye, Cal.” Bea Dot watched her close the door behind her. As she gave her hair a few more strokes with the brush, she ambled back to the dressing table. Her curly black hair, fluffy from the brushing, hung behind her shoulders.
I look like the madwoman in the attic
, Bea Dot thought as she opened a drawer to find a night gown. As she rummaged through the camisoles and shifts, a sound at the door startled her.

“Cal, I thought you went home.”

“It’s me.”

Bea Dot’s chest tightened as she turned to face Ben. He hadn’t been in her bedroom since the day he knocked her down. Nerves humming, she stood and approached him, trying to keep him from coming further into her refuge. “Did you call me? I didn’t hear you.”

He took another step forward so that he stood immediately in front of her. More than a head taller than she, he looked down at her with his hands clasped behind his back. His thick black eyebrows came together over his nose like a large caterpillar.

“No, I didn’t call. I heard you in here, and I thought I’d come in.”

The whiskey on his breath failed to cover the fish he’d eaten for dinner. When he put his hands on Bea Dot’s waist, she tensed, and his slight frown registered her reaction. She couldn’t help herself, though, since the last time he’d touched her he’d been looking for a fight. He untied the sash of her robe, and Bea Dot took a step back. The robe fell open, and she clutched it again, her heart racing like a scared rabbit’s.

“Easy,” he said, as if talking to a skittish filly. He grabbed her arm, then pulled her to him again.

Bea Dot pushed against him, but he was too strong for her.

“Ben,” she urged him, “remember, Dr. Arnold said—” Fear’s simmer escalated to a boil.

“Hush,” he said sharply before pressing his mouth to hers so hard that her lips hurt from mashing against her teeth. Disgust ignited inside her, as it had done before with forced, drunken kisses.

She wiggled away from his grasp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Ben, stop. Please.”