The Widows of Braxton County (6 page)
Summer 2012, the Krause family farm
T
he last thing Kate wanted to do was to attend a party in her honor. For the past two days, the old house had creaked with tension. She still followed Trudy’s instructions, but she was done acting bright and shiny for the woman. She couldn’t forgive Trudy’s lack of empathy toward her over the dead cat.
Joe had tried to make amends. After she’d calmed down, he’d gently explained that the hogs, chickens, and cattle were part of their livelihood and anything that put that at risk had to be eliminated. He also cautioned her against getting attached to any of the animals. Baby calves grew up to be steers that were shipped off to the slaughterhouse. The fluffy baby chicks that had cost the tom his life would one day be Sunday dinner. It was part of life on a working farm and she’d have to learn to accept it.
Kate grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. In a way, she felt sorry for him. In showing compassion to her, he’d driven a wedge between himself and his mother. Yesterday, Kate had overheard a conversation where his mother accused him of coddling his new wife. He was willing to find Kate a kitten and allow her to keep it in the house, but Trudy’s response to Joe’s plan was swift and to the point. She had no intention of sharing her house with a cat.
Kate, of course, had a remedy for that—move Trudy into the retirement apartments. And as soon as this party was over, she’d insist Joe keep his promise.
Leaning closer to the mirror, she put the finishing touches on her makeup. Not that it would do any good. It was so hot that once she stepped outside, it would melt off her face. She cocked her head to the side. The skin underneath her tan looked pasty, but two quick swipes of her blush fixed it.
“Kate, honey,” Joe called up from downstairs, “our guests are here.”
By the time the party was in full swing, some of Kate’s tension had vanished. She’d never remember all the names she’d heard this evening, but everyone seemed nice. The men had drifted off to one corner of the yard, and Kate caught snatches of their conversation while they discussed the current heat wave, crop prices, and sports. Once or twice she’d heard one of the men mention Ed Rodman, but she was too far away to hear Joe’s response.
The women sat clustered in lawn chairs near the back porch and the conversation flowed easily. Trudy hadn’t joined them. She flitted back and forth between the house and the yard, picking up plates and replenishing drinks. A couple of times the women had tried to draw her into the group, but she’d declined their overture. When she’d hustled off yet again, one of the women turned to Kate.
“How do you like Dutton?” she asked.
Kate gave a little shrug. “I really haven’t seen much of it—just the grocery store.”
Another one of them spoke up. “We heard about it. You ran into Rose Clement. What did you think of her? Did—”
“Doris,” another woman interrupted, “you shouldn’t put her on the spot.”
“Oh, come on, Betty. Kate’s living with Trudy. I’m sure she got an earful about Rose.”
Kate squirmed in her chair. “Ah no. Trudy didn’t say much.”
“That’s a first,” Doris replied, rolling her eyes. “According to my mother, Trudy’s been feuding with Rose ever since she married into the Krauses.”
“I know your mother is Rose’s friend, but Kate doesn’t need to hear about that old fight,” Betty chided.
“She does if she’s going to live with Trudy,” Doris argued.
Kate sat forward. “I don’t expect to be living with her much longer. She’s planning on moving into the retirement apartments as soon as one’s available.”
“What do you mean? I heard there’s—”
Betty’s foot shot out and nudged Doris before she could complete her sentence. “That’ll be nice for you, Kate,” she said smoothly. “My dad always made jokes about too many hens in the henhouse,” she finished with a laugh.
A third woman leaned forward and placed her hand on Kate’s forearm. “You mustn’t let Trudy get to you, sweetie. And take anything you might hear about her with a grain of salt. She’s led a hard life and it’s turned her into a hard woman. Ninety percent of the people in Dutton are intimidated by her.”
“Rose isn’t, Marjorie,” Doris interjected, “and that’s why Trudy and her don’t get along.”
Marjorie gave a snort. “I know your family’s friends with her, but there
are
those who don’t think Rose is all that sweet either.”
The questions that had been troubling Kate since meeting Rose came to the surface. These women wanted to gossip, why not make the most of it?
With a quick look over her shoulder to make sure Trudy wasn’t nearby, she leaned forward. “I really would like to know why Rose and Trudy don’t get along,” she said in a low voice.
Doris and Betty exchanged a look, then Betty shrugged.
“Rose has never liked the Krauses,” Doris said, scooting closer to Kate. “No one knows exactly why, but it has something to do with the murder—”
Kate drew back. “Murder!”
Doris’s glance darted to the side. “Shh, not so loud. Joe and Trudy don’t like it when people bring it up.” She looked over at Joe before returning her attention to Kate. “Jacob Krause was found murdered in his bed.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Right here in this house. Rose’s great-grandfather was the sheriff—”
Kate quickly did the math, then held up her hand. “Wait, wasn’t Jacob the one who homesteaded this farm?”
Doris nodded.
“That was over a hundred years ago,” Kate said, her eyes widening in surprise. “How could that matter now?”
“The Krause family curse,” Doris replied calmly.
Kate shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Doris, I think you’d better leave well enough alone,” Betty said sternly.
“No . . . no . . . that’s okay,” Kate murmured. “I want to hear the story.”
“Well,” Doris said, settling back into her chair as she warmed to her subject. “On July 2, 1890, someone slipped into the house and killed Jacob. Rose’s great-grandfather was the sheriff and the case was never resolved.”
“No one was found guilty?”
“Not exactly. Jacob’s oldest son accused Rose’s great-grandfather of botching the investigation. Shortly afterwards he resigned and moved his family over by Montgomery. According to Rose, those accusations ruined her great-grandfather’s life, and it took her family a long time to regain respect.”
“How does a family curse play into this?”
“The Krause family won’t talk about it, but from what people have pieced together over the years, they’ve always believed Jacob’s restless spirit roams—”
“Whoa . . . wait a second. You’re telling me this place is haunted?” Kate shot a nervous glance toward the house.
“Stop it, Doris,” Betty said, “you’re scaring her.”
Kate shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I want to hear the rest of the story.”
“Not much more to tell . . . because the killer was never brought to justice, they believe his ghost wanders this homestead and any sighting is an omen of bad luck.”
Kate glanced toward the old cabin. Was Jacob’s spirit there along with the mice and pigeons? She stifled a nervous laugh.
“That’s just a bunch of bull,” Marjorie interjected.
“But, Marjorie,” Doris began, “you’ve got to admit the Krauses have suffered a lot of tragedy. Fred was killed in Vietnam; two of Joe’s great-uncles died in World War Two; another great-uncle was killed in a farming accident. And they haven’t exactly prospered. At one time, they were the richest farmers in the neighborhood, but now Joe is barely—”
“Kate,” Betty broke in, glaring at Doris, “your glass is empty. Let me fetch you some lemonade.”
“I’m fine,” Kate muttered, trying to digest all this information about her new family. “I do have one more question—how many people have claimed to see Jacob?”
“Oh, they don’t see him,” Doris replied. “It’s a scream heard at midnight.”
The glass fell from Kate’s numb fingers.
Kate cornered her mother-in-law later that night after all the guests had left. Joe had gone to bed and they were alone in the kitchen.
“Trudy, I know you resent me—”
“I don’t resent you,” she sputtered. “I don’t know how you could think that.”
Kate chose not to remind her of the disapproving stares, the snide remarks, and the way Trudy treated her like a slave. “Okay, but do you agree that we got off to a bad start?”
Trudy’s attention shifted away from her. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’m sorry for the part I played, but I am a member of this family now and I’m going to be the mother of your grandchild. Don’t you think I deserve to know this family’s secrets?”
Trudy bristled. “It was that Doris Hill, wasn’t it? She never could keep her mouth shut, and her and her mother are thick as thieves with Rose Clement. I figured she’d stir up trouble when Joe wanted to invite them.”
“It doesn’t make any difference who did the talking. Do you believe this family’s cursed?”
Her mother-in-law crumpled into a chair and covered her face with her hands. “Joe doesn’t want me talking about it.”
“I won’t tell him.”
Trudy’s hands fell away from her face as her eyes grew hard. “I knew you’d bring trouble to this house from the minute Joe told me he planned to marry you,” she said in a vehement voice. “Finding you on that damn computer, like the women around here weren’t good enough for him. Getting you pregnant. Sneaking off to marry you. I told him then no good could come from it, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“You didn’t answer my question—do you believe there’s a family curse?”
“Yes,” she exclaimed, “ever since Jacob Krause was found murdered, this family has suffered.”
“But every family has problems,” Kate argued.
“Not like ours . . . too many deaths . . . too much loss. And now you’re here, and I see my son pacing the floor in the middle of the night and worrying about losing this farm.”
“I imagine Joe’s money problems started way before I came into the picture.”
“But if he’d have married Denise Michelson like I told him to do, her daddy would’ve helped him. He’s a banker and got plenty of money.”
Kate was shocked. “You wanted your son to marry for money?”
“There’s a lot of reasons to get married and love doesn’t always have to be one of them. It can come later.”
Kate rubbed a tired hand across her forehead. This conversation was going nowhere, but she’d finally learned why Trudy disliked her.
“I’ve seen my son change since he met you.” Trudy’s eyes narrowed and she looked Kate up and down. “You’re going to destroy him, just like Hannah destroyed Jacob.”
“What? Who’s Hannah?” Kate asked, confused.
“Hannah was Jacob’s second wife and you’re just like her. She didn’t fit in any better than you do.” Trudy wagged a finger at Kate. “Mark my words . . . history is going to repeat itself.”
Kate had had enough. She stood tall and glared at her mother-in-law. “I don’t care if I’m not the woman you wanted for Joe. I love him and I will make my place here, whether you like it or not,” she exclaimed. “This family curse is a bunch of crap and you’re crazy to believe in it.” She spun on her heel, then called over her shoulder. “History
will not
be repeated. I won’t let it.”
Halfway up the stairs, Kate heard the old music box begin to play. She paused and her teeth clenched as the tune skipped. Grabbing the stair railing, she stomped up the stairs.
I don’t care if the music box
is
an antique. At the first opportunity, that sucker’s getting fixed, she thought as she tromped into the bedroom.
A
fter church, Trudy busied herself frying chicken while Kate mashed the potatoes. As she whipped them into creamy mounds, she thought about last night’s conversation. Joe’s financial problems worried her, and what was more worrisome, he hadn’t bothered to share them with her. Trudy was well aware of them, but they’d kept her in the dark. That’s not the type of marriage she wanted.
She stole a glance at Trudy. She’d been colder than usual this morning. Joe had picked up on it and had spent the morning trying to ease the tension by first paying attention to his mother, then to Kate. He’d been back and forth like a tennis ball and Kate felt for him. She wanted to be his partner, but it wasn’t fair to force him to choose. He’d spoken very little about his father. Most of his childhood stories had revolved around Trudy. If she’d paid attention going into this marriage, she would’ve realized how close he and his mother were and would have been better prepared, yet doubted she could have anticipated this.
What a mess
. She needed to find a some way to be more to him than just the mother of his children. She wanted to be his partner.
Thoughts were still racing around in her head when Joe slipped up behind her and planted a kiss on her neck. He turned her around and gave her a big smile.
“I’ve been on the phone with David Turner and we’re joining him and his wife, Sandra, for dinner.”
“Oh, wow,” Kate teased. “I get to dress up two nights in a row.”
At the same time, Trudy clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, son, that’s wonderful.”
He ignored his mother and kissed Kate’s forehead. “Have we been keeping you on the farm too much?”
She shook her head. “No, I know work comes first.” Her answer pleased her. There—she’d showed him that she took his work seriously.
Joe reached around her and swiped a scoop of the mashed potatoes. After licking off the spoon, he stepped back. “This is work, too. David Turner is the head of Turner Farms and—”
Kate’s eyes widened. “You’re not thinking of selling, are you?”
“ ’Course not. Farming’s all I know. Turner Farms are pork producers. They lease land and build hog confinements.”
“Like the ones I saw on our way here? The ones I smelled?”
Joe’s gaze darted away. “Not exactly. This one would hold less than twenty-five hundred head.”
“Less than? That sounds like a lot of pigs,” Kate exclaimed.
“But,” he said quickly, “it wouldn’t be near here. We own land over by the Clement place, and that’s the land they’re interested in leasing.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate caught Trudy’s sly smile.
“So,” she said, stepping away from the counter and crossing her arms, “we wouldn’t have to put up with the stink, but Rose Clement would? That’s not right, Joe.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “Would it be right to lose this farm?”
“No, that’s not what I meant . . . but everything I’ve read about those confinements . . . They can pollute the water, damage the air quality—”
He stepped toward her. “You grew up in the city. You don’t understand this way of life.”
“Maybe not, but I understand protecting the environment, being responsible—”
“You’re like the rest of those bleeding hearts,” he cut in, his voice growing louder. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this farm. And this lease is a good deal. I get my cut off the top and don’t have to worry about the risk. It’ll be a steady income every year.”
“But what about Rose and her neighbors? Will it be a good deal for them?” she argued back.
“You don’t get it—I don’t care about Rose and her neighbors. If they don’t like it, they can move.”
“But, Joe, there has to be another way—”
He grabbed her upper arm and gave it a shake. “There is no other way, and you either—”
“Joe,” Trudy said in a stern voice, cutting him off.
He dropped her arm, but his glare remained constant.
Kate’s attention turned to her mother-in-law, then back to her husband. Tears stung the back of her eyelids and her insides crumpled. Spinning on her heel, she fled to the safety of their bedroom.
She was still there three hours later when Joe entered the bedroom fresh from his shower. Without a word, he strode to their closet and grabbed a dress shirt and pair of pants.
“Joe, I’m—”
“Forget it, Kate. Ma’s going with me.”
The words cut and the tears threatened to start again.
“But—”
He whirled around and stared at her. “I said to forget it. I’ll make up some excuse why you’re not with me. It’s better this way. The last thing I need is you shooting off your mouth and screwing me out of this opportunity.”
“Can’t we talk about this?”
“I’m done trying to explain things to you. I’ll dress downstairs.” He threw his clothes over his arm and headed for the door, then stopped and looked at Kate curled in a ball on their bed. “And while we’re gone, I suggest you think about being the kind of wife I need.”
Fifteen minutes later over the sounds of her crying, Kate heard the sound of the car pulling out of the driveway.
Kate spent the next few hours alternating between anger and hurt. What chance did her marriage have if they couldn’t have a reasonable discussion? How dare he treat her like an idiot? Okay, so maybe she didn’t understand the financial stress her husband faced, but it was no reason to fly into a rage. She hated confrontations and wanted to avoid them. Was this her fault? Should she have kept quiet and trusted him to do the right thing? Perhaps that was what he expected of her?
Thoughts chased around in her mind until she was exhausted. Curling on her side, she had begun to drift off to sleep when the sound of heavy footsteps made her sit up in bed. A moment later, Joe came through the door.
“How did the meeting go?” she asked in a thick voice.
“Fine,” he replied brusquely as he picked up a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and walked back toward the door.
“I’m sleeping on the couch.”
The warmth of the sun on her face woke Kate up the next morning. Memories of yesterday made her heart twist. She’d never seen that side of her husband—withdrawn and hard. She wanted the man who’d courted her so thoughtfully, the one who’d tried to steer an even course between her and her mother-in-law. How could she get him back?
She rolled over onto her back and patted her eyes. Without seeing herself in a mirror, she knew how she looked. Eyes swollen, face puffy, and her hair a tangled mess. Part of her wanted to play the coward and stay in their bedroom, but other than bathroom breaks, she’d been alone in this room for close to twenty-four hours. She had to face her husband and mother-in-law eventually. Might as well do it now. She’d get Joe alone, away from Trudy, and they’d talk. In the middle of the night, she’d come to the conclusion that she’d started the fight yesterday by arguing with him. Today, she’d change her approach. Apologize for questioning his management of the farm, then gently explain how she felt. The kind, sensitive man that she’d fallen in love with would listen as long as she went about it the right way.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and started to stand. Suddenly a sharp cramp doubled her over and she fell back on the bed, clutching her lower abdomen. Kate took a deep breath and the pain eased. Pushing off the bed, she tried to stand again, but another cramp hit her, followed by heaviness in the lower part of her body. She looked down in horror as blood soaked through the bottom half of her nightgown.
“Joe . . . Joe,” she screamed.
When he came into the room, she stared at him helplessly as the life of her baby leaked away.
Kate spent the next three days in a haze of medical terms, being poked and prodded by the doctors, and finally suffering through the surgery to remove the rest of the fetal tissue. How had the life she’d carried gone from being a baby to nothing more than a group of cells? It wasn’t fair, and the pain of her loss squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.
Joe had been wonderful. The angry man she’d faced a few days ago had disappeared, and she had her husband back. In a way, it made it worse. Every time he came near her, the guilt she felt for failing him and losing their child pushed her grief away. She was on a roller coaster of emotion and wished she could get off.
And the neighbors, the women whom she’d met at the barbecue, came to call. Loaded with cakes and casseroles, they tried to comfort her, but if she heard the words “it was meant to be” one more time, she’d flee, screaming from the house. She knew they were trying to be kind, but in their kindness they weren’t allowing her to mourn.
Lost in her thoughts, Kate didn’t notice Trudy standing next to the couch.
“Here,” she said, handing Kate a plate, “you need to eat.”
Kate turned her head toward the window. “I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” she said, brooking no argument and placing it on Kate’s lap. Instead of returning to the kitchen, she sat down in one of the armchairs and watched Kate with a pensive expression on her face.
“It gets better, you know,” she said abruptly. “You simply need a little time to grieve.” She settled back in the chair and slowly rubbed its arms.
Astonished at her insight, Kate stopped midbite and stared at her.
Trudy leaned forward. “Joe was my fourth baby,” she said with a sigh.
“You had three miscarriages?”
“Yes, I never made it past the second month with the other three.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I got so tired of everyone’s sympathy and their platitudes. Each time was worse than the last.”
Kate placed her sandwich back on her plate. “I’m sorry . . . it must’ve been hard for you.”
“Humph,” she said, moving back in the chair. “They wouldn’t leave me alone and let me deal with my loss in my own way. Everyone just kept picking at me . . . I hated it.”
Kate’s heart was broken after one miscarriage. She couldn’t imagine the pain Trudy had suffered after three failed preganancies. The hole in her heart getting bigger with each lost child. The bitterness she must’ve felt.
“How did you live through it?”
She waved Kate’s question away. “You just do. I do think about what might have been once in a while, but then I see my son . . . and—” She rose to her feet unexpectedly. “I need to get the dishes done.”
“Thank you, Trudy.”
“You’re welcome. Rest and don’t worry. If you’re lucky, you’ll be blessed someday with a son like Joe.”
A soft touch on her arm woke Kate from a sound sleep. Opening her eyes, she saw her husband grinning down at her in the moonlight.
Scooting up in bed, she rubbed her tired eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Shhh,” he replied, placing a finger on her lips. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Kate’s brow wrinkled. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” he answered with a chuckle as he tugged her out of bed and handed her a robe. “Come on.”
They snuck down the stairs and through the house like a couple of little kids up past their bedtime. When they reached the kitchen, Joe handed her a dish towel.
“Cover your eyes,” he instructed in a whisper.
“Joe—”
“Hey, don’t spoil it,” he chided.
Reluctantly, Kate held the towel over her eyes and let him lead her out of the house.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Don’t let me trip and fall,” she warned.
“Never, sweetheart, never,” he responded and placed a warm kiss on her temple.
A quiver shot through her. This could be fun, she thought as the dew-covered grass tickled her bare feet.
Abruptly Joe stopped. “Okay, you can look now.”
Kate dropped the towel and her eyes widened in amazement.
A blanket, circled with lighted candles, lay spread out beneath one of the apple trees. On it sat a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a basket.
“A picnic.” Kate gave a little squeal and threw herself in her husband’s arms. “This is wonderful,” she murmured, then kissed him deeply.
After a few moments, Joe drew away, his eyes dark. “If we keep this up, we’re going to wind up back in the house,” he said with a playful slap to Kate’s bottom.
“Okay,” she said and, after stepping over the candles, settled onto the blanket.
Joe joined her and opened the picnic basket to withdraw a plate of cheese, summer sausage, and grapes. He filled a small plate and handed it to her. “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook, so this was all I could come up with.”
Kate laughed, remembering the disastrous meal she had prepared. “Neither am I.”
“You’ll learn,” he said, opening the wine and pouring a glass for her.
Kate took a sip and let the fruity liquid slide down her throat. “Mmm, this is good.” Her gazed traveled the romantic setting. “This reminds me of the night you proposed.”
Joe poured a glass of wine for himself, then leaned back against the tree. “But that meal was a little fancier.”
“Foie gras, wild rice, Cornish hen—”
“I thought they were just little chickens,” he interrupted with a grin.
“Joe . . . it was wonderful,” she said with a half-smile. “It was one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done for me.”
“We haven’t had much time for romance lately, have we?”
