Lily of the Springs (30 page)

“But she’s okay now?” Jake asked.

I shrugged. “For now, I reckon. We’ve got to make sure she eats right from now on, and you know that’s not going to be easy.” I grimaced.
I should’ve said I, not
we
.
“He’s put her on iron supplements,” I added. “So maybe that’ll help.”

Jake looked relieved. He kissed the top of Debby Ann’s head again. “Poor little girl.”

I watched him. He lowered his head to the baby’s and sat motionless for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his words came out in a rough, husky tone, “So, what are you going to do?”

Silence hung between us.

“I don’t know,” I said finally.

He lifted his head to look at me, and shock radiated through me. His eyes were awash with tears, his face ravaged with pain. “I’m not going to beg you to stay,” he said quietly. “Let’s face it, Lily Rae, you deserve more than I can give you. You deserve a man who’ll worship the ground beneath your feet. Not an asshole like me. Don’t you see, Lily, I love you, but I
can’t
show it. I don’t know
how
to show it. That’s why I do these awful things to you. I guess your family is right. I come from bad seed. And that’s what I am. A bad seed.”

Debby Ann, who’d been watching her father with wide eyes, reached up and touched his bristled face where a tear had left a moisture trail. “Don’t cry, Daddy,” she said, concern in her sing-song voice. “You got boo-boo hurt, Daddy?”

Jake swallowed hard and gazed down at his daughter. “I reckon I do, Debby Ann. Inside…where you can’t see it.”

My throat had tightened. And I felt my heart thawing. I tried to stop it by summoning Betty’s voice to my mind.
Don’t let him talk you into staying, Lily. You need to get that man out of your life
.

“Debby Ann got boo-boo hurt, too. See?” She stuck out her tiny arm and pointed to the tape-covered cotton ball on the inside of her elbow where the I.V. needle had been inserted. Then she looked up at her father with solemn brown eyes. “It feel better, Daddy. Boo-boo hurt go away.”

Jake swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. Then he nodded. “Yeah, your boo-boo hurt will go away. But I’m not so sure about mine.” He turned his gaze back to me. “I reckon we can file for divorce here or…if you want to move back home, we can do it there. Up to you.”

The word shook me to my core.
Divorce
. It wasn’t as if this was the first time it had been said out loud. That’s all Betty had been talking about this morning. And it had been reverberating in my mind since I’d started considering it. But to hear Jake say it out loud made it so…final.

I studied him. After a moment, I walked over to the couch and sat down on the other end of it, leaving a large gap of space between us.

“Jake, do you love me?” I said quietly. “Because sometimes…
most
of the time…it don’t…
doesn’t
feel like you do.”

Jake closed his eyes and shook his head. I’d never seen him so vulnerable-looking. “I’ve always loved you,” he whispered.

I sat quietly, unable to find an adequate response.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. There it was again—that wounded look. “I know that’s not enough. You deserve a man who can give you more than that. And I know if I let you go, it won’t take you long to find one. You got so much to offer, Lily Rae.”

My heart skipped a beat and my throat went dry. “Is that what
you
want, Jake? A divorce?”

He stared at me a long moment, then nodded. “I want that for
you
. Because I know I can’t make you happy. But for me?” He shook his head slowly. “The selfish bastard that I am wants you to stay. Because the selfish bastard that I am knows if you walk out, Lily Rae, I’ll lose the best thing that ever happened to me.” His voice choked, and he turned away, blinking back fresh tears.

Despite everything, my heart ached for him. Silence fell between us. Even Debby Ann seemed to sense the tension in the air. She looked up at her father and then turned her wide brown eyes to me.

It seemed she, too, was waiting for my answer.

Gladys’s Blue Ribbon Peach Cobbler

6 ripe peaches, poached and sliced

1 - ½ cup sugar, divided

½ cup butter (do not substitute margarine)

1 cup self-rising flour

½ cup milk

Combine sliced peaches with ½ cup sugar and ¼ cup water. Bring to boil, and simmer for 20 minutes. Melt butter in 13x9” pan in oven at 350. Mix together remaining sugar, flour and milk. Pour batter over melted butter. (Do not spread.) Spoon peaches and juice over batter. Bake 30-45 minutes until golden brown. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

December 1954

“
C
ome on, Mommy! Debby Ann hungee!”

Running as fast as her little legs could carry her, Debby darted through the woods in front of me, stumbling twice over fallen tree branches blocking the path.

“Debby Ann, you’d better slow down, girl, or you’re gonna land flat on your face,” I warned, picking my way carefully through rotting leaves and other decades of debris from trees felled by lightning and wind. It was clear in the two years I’d been away that no one had used the trail that connected the Tatlow’s to my family home.

Debby Ann stopped in the middle of the path, turned around, placed her hands firmly on her tiny hips and glared at me. “Mommy! I
hungee
, I
said
!”

“Don’t you sass me, you little pipsqueak.” I gave her a stern look even as I tried to hide an amused smile. That blood they’d given her back in Texarkana must’ve been full of orneriness; Debby Ann was like a different little girl these days, and it wasn’t just her uncommonly big appetite that had changed. She’d become a bossy little squirt since we’d come back to Kentucky—probably the result of having two sets of grandparents waiting on her hand and foot and giving in to her every whim like she was Queen of Sheba or something.

“I don’t know how in the world you could be hungry again. Didn’t you have two bowls of soup beans and cornbread
and
butterscotch pie at Mother’s house?”

Debby didn’t bother to answer. She was already off and running through the woods again, the fluffy white ball on her red-striped knit cap bobbing behind her.
Two bowls of soup beans
! Lordy, that gal was probably tootin’ all the way home.

I hoped to heaven she was all done by bed-time; when we’d first arrived at the Tatlow’s, we’d figured Debby Ann could sleep in Meg’s old bed across from Inis, but the little brat would have none of it. She’d screamed her head off until a disgruntled Gladys had moved an old army cot into our room for her, and that’s where she’d been sleeping ever since, the little tyrant! It had been weeks since me and Jake had had any…privacy. No wonder he’d been going to the pool hall in town after supper two or three nights a week. I couldn’t really blame him for that, could I?

I shook my head and followed after Debby Ann. My tennis shoe sank into a soft spot in the ground, muddying a quarter-inch of the white canvas, and I muttered one of Betty’s favorite curse words. Last night’s rain had been a drencher.

It had been a mild winter so far in Kentucky; at least that was what everybody was saying. Here it was, mid-December, and folks said there’d been only one good frost back in late October. Since we’d arrived back in Russell County three weeks ago, the weather had been pleasant with just a few soaking rainfalls like last night’s. But on the walk over to Mother’s this morning, I’d seen a black woolyworm with a half-inch thick coat—a sure sign of a bad winter to come. And according to Daddy, the Farmer’s Almanac said the same thing.
Lord help me
! If I had to stay cooped up in the Tatlow’s little house with Gladys and Royce all winter, I just might murder somebody.

Up ahead, Debby Ann reached the clearing that marked the boundary of the Tatlow’s property. I could hear her high-pitched cry of delight as she caught sight of Hero, a scrawny black mutt that had replaced Bandit, the old three-legged dog that had finally died after years of mistreatment from his owners. It had been mutual love at first sight for Debby Ann and Hero from the beginning. And hate at first sight for me and that blasted dog.

The thick, homey fragrance of wood smoke carried on the afternoon breeze, a scent that would always and forever remind me of Kentucky, no matter where I ended up living. I reached the clearing and saw the mongrel sitting on his haunches, staring longingly at the back door of the house. So…Debby Ann had already gone inside. I quickened my pace. I knew exactly what was going to happen if I didn’t get in there lickety-split.

Hearing my approach, the dog turned, saw me and began to bark like he thought I was a mad-dog killer intent on slaughtering the family. I sighed. It was clear he, like Gladys and Royce, still considered me an outsider.

“Aw, shut your yapping,” I growled as the mutt ran up to me, barking his fool head off. “So help me, sometimes I’d like to knock you to Kingdom-come.”

I wouldn’t, of course. Poor dog probably had enough abuse from his new family. I was usually fond of any animal, but God’s truth, this one sure annoyed the heck out of me.

I skirted the barking dog and climbed the rickety steps of the back porch. Slamming the screen door in Hero’s face, I stepped through the pantry area lined with shelves holding jars of Gladys’s summer canning frenzy, neatly arranged in groups of tomatoes, string beans and limas. There were also three rows of peaches, six deep, because peach cobbler was Gladys Tatlow’s claim to fame in Russell County.

Gladys’s voice came from the kitchen. “What do you say, Miss Debby?”

“Thank you, Grandma Gladys,” piped Debby just as I stepped into the room.

“Oh, no, you
don’t
!” I swooped down and grabbed the chocolate moon-pie from Debby’s hand. “What did I tell you about eating junk like this right before supper?”

Debby Ann began to howl, stamping her red rubber boots against the linoleum like she was auditioning for
The Ed Sullivan Show
. Gladys folded her arms over her chest and glared at me, her mouth fixed in a disapproving straight line.

I ignored her, focusing a matching glare on Debby Ann. “Hush yourself this instant, young lady!”

Gladys made a sound that reminded me of one of the hens out in the yard—something between a “cluck” and a hiss, and it always meant the same thing--that I didn’t have a brain
one
in my head.

“Now, Lily,” Gladys said. “You need to simmer down. A little moon-pie ain’t gonna hurt that youngun’s appetite. Why, Jake and the rest of my younguns like to eat themselves silly during the day, and they still put away enough supper to feed a half-dozen farmhands.”

Debby, smart little minx that she was, took her grandmother’s words as a sign of encouragement, thinking perhaps I’d give in. She stopped in mid-scream and looked from me to her grandmother, her tearful brown eyes gleaming with new hope.

Purposely avoiding Gladys’s gaze, I focused on my daughter. “Debby Ann, I want you to go to your room and lay down for a while before supper.”

As my words sank in, Debby’s heart-shaped face grew dark as a thundercloud. Her lower lip poofed out and her blonde brows furrowed. “Debby Ann want moon-pie,” she said in a deep, growly voice that at one time had amused me enough that I’d dubbed it her “demon-child” voice.

But I wasn’t amused now. “You are
not
getting a moon-pie before supper, young lady!”

With an outraged shriek, Debby Ann threw herself on the floor and began to thrash back and forth, kicking and screaming to raise the devil. I stared at her a moment and then turned to my mother-in-law. “Well, I hope you’re happy, Gladys.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over Debby’s tantrum.

Gladys gave me an outraged look. “Don’t you go blaming this on me. I’m not the one who has spoiled that youngun rotten. Why, I’ve never seen such behavior! If my younguns ever threw a fit like that, well, I’d just have to whop the daylights out of them. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child.’ That’s what the Bible says.”

That did it; I’d had enough of Gladys and her endless insults. I released a groan of disgust and narrowed my eyes at her. “Well, it’s pretty clear you and Royce are the holiest of the holy, then. You sure didn’t spare any rods when you raised your hellion boys, did you? Maybe that’s why you never see hide nor hair of Tully! Or why Jake is always off at the pool hall getting drunk with the old gang, and doesn’t know an
iota
about how to be a decent husband and father! Maybe that’s why you have a daughter half-way around the world in a military uniform who won’t even drop a line to anybody in this family except her little sister. And speaking of that little sister,
Lord help her
living in a family like this! It’s amazing to me she’s as normal as she is when she’s lived her whole life surrounded by
lunatics
like you
Tatlows
!”

Gladys sucked in a shocked breath and took a step backward. I realized that Debby Ann had stopped screaming, but my gaze remained focused on my mother-in-law.

“And now that I’ve got your attention, let me tell you again why it’s so important not to give Debby Ann snacks before supper. I know I’ve said it before, and I guess I’ll have to say it ‘til I’m blue in the face, but Debby Ann
needs…to be…hungry…when she comes to the supper-table
. So she
doesn’t
…get…
anemic
…again. Now, is that
clear enough
English for you, Gladys? That means
no
moon-pies, no
brown sugar toast
, no
Fig Newton bars
,
no Jell-O pudding
, no
Oreos
, no
shoofly pie
,
no
apple dumplings, no
peppermint sticks
, no
Sugar Babies
…Gladys, I don’t even want you to give a
sugary smile
to that child if it’s within
two hours of suppertime
. Do I make myself
crystal clear
?”