Face the Winter Naked (12 page)

He
unhooked his suspenders, dropped his overalls and underwear just in time. A few
minutes later he looked for something to wipe with and found a stack of
ripped-up newspapers on the seat next to him. He sat for a minute, considering
what Anna had said about Jesus and the tramps.

Then
a movement in one corner of the outhouse floor caught his eye—a white hen
sitting there all nice and quiet.

"Fine
place to lay your eggs."

The
hen stared at him.

He
hitched up his pants and picked up his supplies again. Before opening the privy
door, he leaned over and felt underneath the hen. Finding what he was looking
for—still warm from her feathers—he put it in his bib pocket. And soon he was
on his way down the road, belly full, bowels empty. Purse a little fatter and
an egg for tomorrow's breakfast.

Chapter 8

Saul
entered through the back porch and set his peck basket on the kitchen table.

"Brought
you a few spuds and t'maters." He removed them from the basket one by one
and lined them up on the checkered oilcloth. "T'maters ain't doing so
good."

"It's
still early yet," she said. "Sit down and rest. It's hot."

"Hey?"

She
raised her voice. "I said sit and rest. It's hot outside."

"Gonna
rain." He hitched up his overalls, went to the water bucket and drank a
dipperful of water. "The air's close." He pulled out a chair and sat
down.

LaDaisy
looked out the window. "It wouldn't surprise me if we didn't get a
cyclone."

The
old man pulled off his battered straw hat and laid it on a nearby chair.

"Nope,
we won't. Sky's the wrong color. We'll get straight winds, no twisters."
Saul's shaky voice continued. "But rain? I don't know, maybe a few drops.
Not hardly enough to help the crops."

"How
do you know?"

"Just
do. Sometimes I smell the rain. Other times I get feelings what's going to
happen."

Saul
had aged considerably during the past year, but he was still spry for age
seventy- nine. His nose had sharpened and his ears stuck out like jug handles.
His mouth was caving in fast, the more teeth he lost. Without money for a
dentist, he extracted his own teeth, almost bleeding to death each time.
Sometimes he got lucky and his teeth fell out by themselves, or got stuck in an
ear of corn. Daniel used to say his dad didn't know how many teeth he swallowed
when he ate roasting ears.

LaDaisy
put the tomatoes in a sunny window and the potatoes in the bin underneath the
cabinet.

"Thanks
for these," she said. "Stay for supper?"

Saul
arose and put his hat back on. "I reckon not," he said. "They're
for you and the kids."

"They're
not here. Just Mary and me. The other three are staying over at Rose's tonight.
I can make us a good meal with this, you're welcome to stay."

"I
reckon not," he said again. "I need to hoe the turnips before it
rains."

"If
it rains." She shook her head. "It keeps on looking like rain, and
the air feels like it. But it won't rain. Everything's dusty. Even the sheets
are black when I bring them in off the line. I never saw such a hot, dry year.
Something's just not right with this weather." Then she added with a
little smirk, "Bet it's something the politicians in Washington's done to
aggravate us more than we already are. Wouldn't put it past them."

"Nope."
Saul picked up his basket and let himself out the door. He turned once, spoke
through the screen. "Much obliged for the invitation. Another time."
He waved, and was soon out of sight.

She
went to the door and watched him move up the dirt path to the outhouse, then
turn off toward his own shack before he reached it. The sky was darkening, with
clouds hanging in the west like full udders. But they would not release one
single drop of rain. The udders would grow bigger but the storm would pass
over, as it always did these days.

She
sighed, thinking of Daniel and how he'd look like Saul when he got old. She
shook her head and brushed away the thoughts that always made her cry when she
thought of her husband.

She
sliced herself a piece of stale yeast bread, then opened the icebox and took
out the dish of butter Elizabeth had brought last time. She spread some on the
bread and forced herself to eat. Her appetite had decreased with the heat, but
somehow she had to keep up her milk supply. The last thing she needed was to
dry up before the two babies could be weaned. If she could last another three
or four months, she'd be all right.

Finally,
she went to the front room and looked out the door. She could still see Clay's
red Deuce Coupe parked on the road beyond a row of poplars separating her yard
from a vacant lot overgrown with weeds. She wondered if Saul had seen it. He
probably had, because nothing escaped his attention. She'd hoped he would stay
longer, had silently pleaded with him. Clay never came to the house as long as
the old man was there.

A
feeling of apprehension—a slight sensation of fear—washed over her at the
thought of her brother-in-law intruding on her privacy again. What did he want?
She'd already given him a small payment toward the rent. He was coming to the
house on a regular basis, just hanging around and staring at her. Examining the
furniture and Daniel's carvings. He even looked in the icebox. Next he'd be
going through her dirty laundry, when he should be home tending his pregnant
wife.

Damn
him. He's waiting for Saul to leave before he comes in busting his suspenders,
drooling at the sight of a woman who isn't big with his child. Demanding money
she doesn't have.

She
stepped back from the door so he couldn't see her, not that he could through
the trees, but she wasn't sure. She watched the car from behind the faded
curtains, willing it to start its own engine and drive off. With a deep sigh,
she turned away from the window and went to the bedroom to check on Mary. The
little girl was awake and smiling.

"Well,
are you awake already?" LaDaisy scooped her up. "My goodness, you're
all hot and sweaty. A nice bath will help you sleep tonight."

She
glanced at the basket of dirty clothes by the bedroom door. If it didn't rain
after all, she needed to wash tomorrow.

She
carried Mary to the kitchen and put the wash pan in the sink, filled it with
hot water from the teakettle and cooled it down with a dipperful of cold water.

"Such
a good girl!" LaDaisy hummed as she removed Mary's diaper and shirt and
lowered her into the warm water. Mary cooed as she soaped the small body.
Rarely did this baby even smile. But now her blue eyes came alert as she
giggled and splashed in the water.

"I'm
going to scrub the sweat right off of you," LaDaisy sang as she leaned
down and kissed Mary's forehead. "Ummmm. You smell good already." She
washed the fine blond hair with homemade soap and rinsed it with a cup of
water, then lifted the dripping baby out and wrapped her in a towel.

"There
now. Let's put some cornstarch on the heat rash."

Mary
tugged at her mother's smock and fussed.

"Soon,
honey, after you're dressed. Would you like some mush first?"

She
returned to the kitchen after dressing Mary and propped her up in the old
wooden highchair, securing her around the waist with a tea towel. She cooked a
bit of cornmeal mush and spooned in a few bites that rolled right back out.

"Oh,
Mary. When will you stop pushing food out with your tongue?"

She
wiped her chin and mouth, then carried her back to the bedroom. There, she lay
on the bed, cradling her little girl in her arms as she opened her smock.

There
was more than enough milk tonight. Ralph was only coming in the mornings now
Elizabeth had decided to supplement cows' milk with breast milk. Whether the
change in diet agreed with him or not, LaDaisy was able to get some rest and
tend to her chores without breaking so often for nursing. Her own baby was
enough. Thankfully, the Channings continued to bring extra food.

She
dozed off as Mary nursed, patting her mama's breast.

All
at once, she was wide awake, staring in horror at the man in the doorway. She
eased the nipple out of the sleeping baby's mouth and struggled up on one
elbow, her heart pounding.

"H-how
did you get in?"

"Walked
in, how else?"

"You—you
can walk right back out," she said. "What business you got sneaking
in here and scaring the daylights out of a mother feeding her baby?"

Clay
smirked and stuck his thumbs in his suspenders, leaned back against the
doorjamb and thrust out his chest.

"The
door was wide open. I thought it was an invitation."

"I
didn't invite you. You're trespassing."

His
features gave her the creeps. The face her sister regarded as handsome soured LaDaisy's
stomach. His eyes were too close together—little pig eyes—and his long face
ended in a pointed chin. His mouth was startling—too wide for his face, as
though someone had tried to cut off his head and missed.

"Trespassing?
Lady, lady, you forget I own this house. Lock the damn doors if you don't want
company."

"I
forgot, okay? But it doesn't mean you can come in any time you want." She
sat up on the side of the bed and pulled the smock over her breast. "I—I'd
appreciate it if you'd leave now." She got up and put Mary in the cradle,
gave it a little push and turned to him again.

"You've
got a wife at home. Does Ida Mae know where you are? What would she
think?"

"She
thinks I'm collecting the rent. What else would she think?"

"She
knows I don't have any money. I told you I'll pay when I can, so go away and
leave me alone."

He
moved toward her. She tried to slip past him but wasn't fast enough. He whirled
around and grabbed her arm.

"Let
go—you're hurting me!"

He
pulled her up against his fat belly. "Come on now, be nice."

"No!"

"You've
got a pretty mouth, especially when you pout and push your lips out. Cuter'n
hell when you're mad."

"Stop!"

"Always
did think you were better looking than your sister."

She
tried to wiggle away, but he held firmly and brought his cruel mouth down on
hers. She pushed hard against his chest as he tried to force his tongue between
her teeth. Finally, he pushed her away.

"You're
no damn fun."

She
shook with anger and fear. "Go—go away." She tried to adjust her
dress, knowing he was getting a big kick out of upsetting her. "You stink
like whiskey. I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can forget it.
Just go."

Clay
sat down on the edge of bed, his eyes filled with lust. Suddenly, he grabbed
his crotch.

"Got
something for you. I'll make you an offer."

"Wh—?"

"You
be nice to your brother-in-law and he'll wipe out the back rent. How's that
sound?"

"You're
crazy."

"Nah,
I'm not crazy." He patted the bed. "Come over here like a good girl
and sit by me."

She
shook her head and backed away. Where could she run? How could she leave her
baby in the same room with this monster?

"W-we
might be related, but I'm a married woman. You're my sister's husband."

"Like
I said." He jumped up and grabbed her arm, and the rusty old bedsprings
protested as he pulled her down on top of him.

"No!
Please, no. I don't want to, Clay, I can't. Go away."

"Just
relax. I ain't going to hurt you." He laughed. "We both need some.
What's the harm?"

He
leered at her. His nose was close enough she could've bit it off had the
thought not been so nasty.

He
rolled her over on her back and fumbled with her clothes, ripped the smock down
to expose her breasts. Ran his hands over them. Licked the nipples, making
animal sounds.

"Ummm,
nice big titties."

She
shuddered, tried to push him away, but his weight was too much. Overcome with
grief, she squeezed her eyes shut.

"No
... please!"

He
raised his head. "What woman wouldn't want it with her husband gone? How
long's it been, a year? Two?"

She
sobbed and moaned as he pushed her shoulder down hard and reached for the
bottom of her dress with the other hand. She tried to press her legs together,
but he found his way through the folds of the dress, then her underwear. She
almost screamed when he pushed a finger in hard enough to hurt—where was Saul?
God
help me.
The scream wouldn't come—Clay's mouth was in the way, his tongue
snaking between her teeth as his fat finger twisted its way in and out. She was
dry, and it hurt. He forced his tongue to the back of her throat as she pounded
his back with her fists and scratched his arms.

His
breath was hot in her ear. "Stop fighting me!"

She
opened her eyes as his erection pushed against her. He unzipped his pants, and
with one hand, he hiked her dress above her hips and lowered his disgusting
body over hers with a knee between her legs. He shoved her legs apart and
entered her with a hard thrust that almost made her black out.

"For
the back rent." He laughed. "Maybe next month I'll collect more. Bet
you'll like it by then."

She
choked back a sob as he pumped into her. At one point, her vision fell on the
closet door. The shotgun. But there was no way in hell she could reach it. No
chance to get the key from the dresser and unlock the door.

Her
head swam. All she could think of was blowing Clay's brains out as he finished
with a groan and collapsed on top of her.