Farnham's Freehold (14 page)

We keep up our bodies, too. I’ve become pretty good at cutting hair. Duke grew a beard at first but Hugh shaved every day and presently Duke did, too. I don’t know what they will do when blades are no more. I’ve noticed Joe honing a Gem blade on an oil stone.

It’s still Christmas and I’ll cut back in when the rubber in progress is finished. Dinner was lavish; Grace and Karen spent two days on it—brook trout savory aux herbes, steamed freshwater prawns, steaks and broiled mushrooms, smoked tongue, bouillon Ursine, crackers (quite a treat), radishes, lettuce, green onions, baby beets a la Grace, and best of all, a pan of fudge, as condensed milk, chocolate, and sugar are irreplaceable. Nescafé and cigarettes, two cups and two cigarettes each.

Presents for everybody—All I saved besides clothes I had on was my purse. I was wearing nylons, took them off soon and haven’t worn stockings since; I gave them to Karen. I had a lipstick; Grace got that. I had been plaiting a belt; Joe got that. In my purse was a fancy hanky; I washed it, ironed it by pressing it against smooth concrete—Duke got that.

It was this morning before I figured out anything for Hugh. For years I’ve carried in my purse a little memo book. It has my maiden name in gold and still has half of a filler. Hugh can use it—but it was my name on it that decided me.

I must run; Grace and I are due to attempt to clobber Hugh and Joe.

I’ve never had a happier Christmas.

Karen and Barbara were washing themselves, the day’s dishes, and the week’s laundry. Above them, Joe kept watch. Bushes and then trees had been cut away around the stretch they used for bathing; a predator could not approach without Joe having a clear shot at it. His eyes swung constantly, checking approaches. He wasted no seconds on the Elysian tableau he guarded.

Karen said, “Barbie, this sheet won’t stand another laundering. It’s rags.”

“We need rags.”

“But what will we use for sheets? It’s this soap.” Karen scooped a handful from a bowl on the bank. It was soft and gray and harsh and looked like oatmeal mush. “The stuff eats holes.”

“I’m not fretted about sheets but I dread the day when we are down to our last towel.”

“Which will belong to Mother,” Karen stated. “Our rationing officer will have some excellent reason.”

“Nasty, nasty. Karen, Duke has done a wonderful job.”

“I wasn’t bitching. Duke can’t help it. It’s his friend Eddie.”

“‘Eddie?’”

“Edipus Rex, dear.”

Barbara turned away and began rinsing a pair of ragged blue jeans.

Karen said, “You dig me?”

“We all have faults.”

“Sure, everybody but me. Even Daddy has a shortcoming. His neck pains him.”

Barbara looked up. “Is Hugh having trouble with his neck? Perhaps it would help if we massaged it.”

Karen giggled. “Your weakness, sister mine, is that you wouldn’t know a joke if it bit you. Daddy is stiff-necked and nothing will cure it. He doesn’t have weaknesses and that’s his weakness. Don’t frown. I love Daddy. I admire him. But I’m glad I’m not like him. I’ll take this load up to the thorn bushes. Damn it, why didn’t Daddy stock clothespins? Those thorns are as bad as the soap.”

“Clothespins we can do without. Hugh did an incredible job. Everything from an eight-day clock—”

“Which got busted, right off.”

“—to tools and seeds and books and I don’t know what. Karen! Don’t climb out naked!”

Karen stopped, one foot on the bank. “Nonsense. Old Stone Face won’t look. Humiliating, that’s what it is. I think I’ll yoo-hoo at him.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Joe is being a gentleman under trying circumstances. Don’t make it harder. Let that load wait and we’ll take it all up at once.”

“Okay, okay. I can’t help wondering if he’s human.”

“He is. I can vouch for it.”

“Hmm—Barbie, don’t tell me Saint Joseph made a pass at you?”

“Heavens, no! But he blushes if I squeeze past him in the house.”

“How can you tell?”

“Sort of purple. Karen, Joe is sweet. I wish you had heard him explain about Doc.”

“Explain what?”

“Well, Doc is beginning to accept me. I was holding Doc yesterday and noticed something and said, ‘Joe, Doc is getting terribly fat. Or was he always?’

“That was a time when he blushed. But he answered with sweet seriousness, ‘Barbara, Dr. Livingstone isn’t as much of a boy cat as he thinks he is. Old Doc is more a girl-type cat. That isn’t fat. Uh, you see—Doc is going to have babies.’ He blurted it out. Seemed to think it would upset me. Didn’t of course, but I was astonished.”

“Barbara, you mean you didn’t
know
that Dr.-Livingstone-I-Presume is a female?”

“How would I know? Everybody calls him ‘he’ and he—she—has a male name.”

“A doctor can be female. Can’t you tell a tomcat?”

“I never thought about it. Doc is pretty fuzzy.”

“Mmm, yes, with a Persian one might not be certain at first glance. But a tomcat’s badges of authority are prominent.”

“Had I noticed, I would have assumed that he had been altered.”

Karen looked shocked. “Don’t let Daddy hear that! He never allows a cat to be spayed or cut. Daddy thinks cats are citizens. However, you’ve surprised me. Kittens, huh?”

“So Joe says.”

“And I didn’t notice.” Karen looked puzzled. “Come to think of it, I haven’t picked him up lately. Just petted him and tried to keep him out of things. Lately it hasn’t been safe to open a drawer; he’s into it. Looking for a place to have kittens of course. I should have twigged.”

“Karen, why do you keep saying ‘he’ and ‘him’?”

“‘Why?’ Joe told you. Doc
thinks
he is a boy cat—and who am I to argue? He’s always thought so, he was the feistiest kitten we ever had. Hmm—Kittens. Barbie, the first time Doc came into heat we arranged for Doc to meet a gentleman cat of exalted ancestry. But it wasn’t Doc’s métier and he beat the hell out of the tomcat. So we quit trying. Mmm—Calendar girl, how long have we been here?”

“Sixty-two days. I’ve looked it up; it’s sixty days with a normal range to seventy.”

“So it’s any time now. I’ll bet you two back rubs that we are up all night tonight. Cats never have kittens at a convenient hour.” Karen abruptly changed the subject. “Barbie, what do you miss most? Cigarettes?”

“I’ve quit thinking of them. Eggs, I guess. Eggs for breakfast.”

“Daddy did plan for that. Fertilized eggs and a little incubator. But he hadn’t built it and anyhow, eggs would have busted. Yes, I miss eggs. But I wish cows laid eggs and Daddy had figured out how to bring cow eggs along. Ice cream! Cold milk!”

“Butter,” agreed Barbara. “Banana splits with whipped cream. Chocolate malts.”

“Stop it! Barbie, I’m starving in front of your eyes.”

Barbara pinched her. “You aren’t fading way. Fact is, you’ve put on weight.”

“Perhaps.” Karen shut up and began on the dishes.

Presently she said in a low voice, “Barbie, Doc won’t hand this household half the surprise I’m going to.”

“How, hon?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“
Huh?
”

“You heard me. Pregnant. Knocked up, if you insist on the technical term!”

“Are you sure, dear?”

“
Of course I’m sure!
I had a test, the froggie winked at me. Hell, I’m four months gone.” Karen threw herself into the arms of the older girl. “And I’m
scared!
”

Barbara hugged her. “There, there, dear. It’s going to be all right.”

“The hell it is,” Karen blubbered. “Mother’s going to raise hell…and there aren’t any hospitals…nor doctors. Oh, why didn’t Duke study medicine? Barbie, I’m going to die. I know I am.”

“Karen, that’s silly. More babies have been born without doctors and hospitals than ever were wheeled into a delivery room. You’re not scared of dying, you’re scared of telling your parents.”

“Well, that, too.” Karen wiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Uh—Barbie, don’t be mad…but that’s why I invited you down that weekend.”

“So?”

“I figured Mother wouldn’t raise quite so much hell if you were present. Most girls in our chapter are either squares or sluts, and silly heads besides. But you are neither and I knew you would stand up for me.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Thank me, hell! I was using you.”

“It’s the finest compliment another woman ever paid me.” Barbara wiped a tear from Karen’s face and tweaked her cheek. “I’m glad I’m here. So you haven’t told your parents?”

“Well, I was
going
to. But the attack hit…and then Mother went to pieces…and Daddy has been loaded down with worries and there’s never been the right time.”

“Karen, you aren’t scared to tell your father, just your mother.”

“Well… Mother mostly. But Daddy, too. Besides being shocked and hurt—he’ll think it was silly of me to get caught.”

“While he’s certain to be surprised, I doubt the other.” Barbara hesitated. “Karen, you needn’t take this alone. I can share it.”

“That’s what I had hoped. That’s why I asked you to come home with me. I told you.”

“I mean really share it. I’m pregnant, too.”

“
What?
”

“Yes. We can tell them together.”

“Good Lord, Barbara! How did it happen?”

Barbara shrugged. “Careless. How did it happen to you?”

Karen suddenly grinned. “How? A bee sprinkled pollen on me; how else? ‘Who’ you mean.”

“‘Who’ I don’t care about. Your business. Well, dear? Shall we go tell them? I’ll do the talking.”

“Wait a minute. You hadn’t planned to tell anybody? Or had you?”

“Why, no,” Barbara answered truthfully, “I was going to wait until it showed.”

Karen looked at Barbara’s waistline. “It doesn’t show. Are you sure?”

“I’ve skipped two periods, I’m pregnant. Or I’m ill, which would be worse. Let’s gather up the laundry and tell them.”

“Uh, since you don’t look it—and I do; I’ve been careful not to undress around Mother—since you don’t, let’s hold that back and use it as a whammy if things get sticky.”

“If you like. Karen, why not tell Hugh first? Then let him tell your mother.”

Karen looked relieved. “You think that’s all right?”

“Hugh would rather hear it with your mother not around. Now go find him and tell him. I’ll hang the clothes.”

“All right, I will!”

“And quit worrying. We’ll have our babies and won’t have any trouble and we’ll raise them together and it’ll be fun. We’ll be happy.”

Karen’s eyes lit up. “And you’ll have a girl and I’ll have a boy and we’ll marry them and be grandmothers together!”

“That sounds more like Karen.” Barbara kissed her. “Run tell Hugh.”

Karen found Hugh bricking up the kiln; she told him that she would like a private talk.

“All right,” he agreed. “Let me tell Joe to get this fired up. I should inspect the ditch. Come along and talk?”

He gave her a shovel, carried a rifle. “Now what’s on your mind, baby girl?”

“Let’s get farther away.” They walked a meandering distance. Hugh stopped, exchanged rifle for shovel, and built up a stretch of wall.

“Daddy? Perhaps you’ve noticed a shortage of men?”

“No. Three men and three women. The usual division.”

“Perhaps I should say ‘eligible bachelors.’”

“Then say it.”

“All right, I’ve said it. I need advice. Which is worse? Incest? Or miscegenation? Or should I be an old maid?”

He placed another shovelful, tamped it. “I would not urge you to be an old maid.”

“That settles that, I feel the same way. How do you size up those other fates?”

“Incest,” he answered, “is a bad idea, usually.”

“Which leaves just one thing.”

“Wait. I said, ‘Usually.’” He stared at the shovel. “This is not a problem I ever expected—but we are facing many new problems. Brother-and-sister marriages are not uncommon in history. They are not necessarily bad.” He frowned. “But there is Barbara. You might have to accept a polygamous household.”

“Hold it, Daddy. ‘Incest’ isn’t just brothers.”

He stared at her. “You’ve managed to startle me, Karen.”

“Shocked you, you mean.”

“No. ‘Startled.’ Were you seriously suggesting what you implied?”

“Daddy,” she said soberly, “it’s one subject I can’t joke about. If I had to choose between you and Duke—as a husband, I mean—I’d take you and no two ways about it.”

Hugh mopped his forehead. “Karen, such a statement can be honored only by taking it seriously—”

“I’m serious!”

“And I so take it. Do I understand that you have eliminated Joseph? Or have you considered him?”

“Certainly I have.”

“Well?”

“How could I avoid it, Daddy? Joe is nice. But he’s just a boy, even though he’s older than I am. If I said, ‘Boo!’ he would jump out of his skin. No.”

“Does his skin have something to do with your choice?”

“Daddy, you tempt me to spit in your face. I’m not Mother!”

“I wanted to be sure. Karen, you know that color does not matter to me. I want to know other things about a man. Is his word good? Does he meet his obligations? Does he do honest work? Is he brave? Will he stand up and be counted? Joe is very much a man by all standards that interest me. I think you are being hasty.”

He sighed. “If we were in Mountain Springs, I would not urge you to marry any Negro. The pressures are too great; such a marriage is almost always a tragedy. But those barbaric factors do not obtain here. I urge that you give Joe serious thought.”

“Daddy, don’t you think I
have
? I may marry Joe. But I wanted you to know that if I had my choice, out of you three I would pick
you
.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me, hell! I’m a woman and you are the man I would most like to. And a fat lot of good it will do me—and you know why. Mother.”

“I know.” He suddenly looked weary. “We do not what we wish, but what we can. Karen, I am dreadfully sorry that you do not have a longer list to choose from.”

“Daddy, if I’ve learned anything from you, it is that it’s a waste of tears to cry over anything that can’t be helped. That’s Mother, not me. And Duke, though not as bad. I’m just like you on this point—You count your points and play accordingly. You don’t moan about how the cards aren’t fair. Dig me, Daddy?”