If Wishes Were Horses (32 page)

When Leon was leaving, he said, “We’ll need to discuss the mortgage, Etta. Edward is back from Chicago and ready to settle this.”

Etta looked at him for a moment, then down at Lattie Kate. “Oh, I’m sure we will, Leon,” she said and kissed her baby, whispering, “Mama loves you so much.” She let Latrice see Leon out the door.

Later in the nursery, Etta changed Lattie Kate’s clothes, then turned out the overhead light, leaving on the dim clown lamp. Humming, she scooped Lattie Kate up into her arms and swayed her around. The next instant, she found herself looking into the shadowed recesses of the room that had belonged to her and Roy together. She saw nothing. His scent was gone, too. The only thing she smelled was baby lotion.

“Here’s your daughter, Roy,” Etta said, just in case. “You made a beautiful baby. I’m so sorry you aren’t here with her. I’ll take very good care of her.”

Etta kissed Lattie Kate’s sweet-smelling head and, humming, she danced her across the room and out the door and down the hall to the guest room that had become Etta’s own now. She placed her gently into the bassinet sitting on its stand beside the bed. Lattie Kate, her eyes squeezed closed, made a funny face. Etta slipped into bed and lay there for fifteen minutes, before bringing Lattie Kate into bed and holding her close.

Sometime in the night she opened her eyes to see Roy standing beside the bed, looking down and smiling sadly. “She’s beautiful,” he said, and Etta said, “Oh, yes."

Then he was gone, and Etta came fully awake to find herself staring at nothing but the window curtain, which stirred softly in the night breeze. She felt, however, that Roy truly had been there, but that now, with Lattie Kate’s birth, he was gone, never to return. She hoped wherever he was, someone was looking out for him. Some strong angel could no doubt do better than she, a mere mortal.

Latrice considered the first days as those of Kate’s newborn life and Etta’s newborn motherhood. They were needed days of discovery and adjustment, and Latrice was intent on providing her charges with peace in which to discover and adjust as required. She screened telephone calls, and she herself went for the mail and set it aside on the desk  in the den, not even looked at.

It was not hard to screen the calls, as Etta had no desire to answer. She had no eyes for anything or anyone beyond her little daughter. Latrice would see Etta holding her baby and gazing lovingly at her, and Johnny Bellah sitting there lovingly gazing at Etta.

Leon Thibodeaux came the second day, too, which caused Latrice to wonder about him, and caused Johnny Bellah to come inside and sit right there with them in the living room, in his dusty clothes and spurs, too, until Mr. Leon left. Mr. Leon and Johnny Bellah looked at each other as if they were squaring off, but Etta never really saw them, as she was so thoroughly focusing on her baby and her motherhood.

Heloise Gardner, Roy’s cousin, came bringing a big box—a new dress for Etta and a fancy one for the baby, too, who Heloise laughingly said would be a future Style Shop customer. Latrice’s cousin Freddy, the cab driver, surprised them by bringing by a Raggedy Ann doll for “the new little girl God sent Latrice.”

The third day Harry Flagg came driving in with a bunch of his horses, and Etta took Kate outside to Harry to show her off. Latrice had thought herself immune to life’s surprises, but she was a little amazed when the big man came, hitching up his sagging britches, and sat for an hour on the porch, giving forth the entire time on his vast knowledge of children at every age.

Etta sat there with little Kate and sopped up his words, most of which seemed sound to Latrice, except the one about putting a clove of garlic beneath the baby’s pillow as a cure for a cold.

Mr. Harry was still sitting there when Johnny Bellah, sweating from the work of putting Mr. Harry’s horses in the barn, came up and joined them, gazing at Etta and the baby, while she listened with rapt attention to Mr. Harry. Every once in a while, she would look at Johnny and smile, showing that she had not completely forgotten him, and he would sort of glow.

Latrice watched this and wondered at what was being built in these days that Etta discovered another facet of herself and the life stretching ahead of her. If Johnny Bellah did not get tired of waiting this out and take his leave, undoubtedly things were going to get wild and crazy around there.

On the fourth morning of Kate’s life and Etta’s motherhood, Miz Alice Boatwright made her appearance. When Latrice opened the door to the ringing doorbell, she almost shut it again. She and Miz Alice stared at each other, Miz Alice saying with her eyes:
You’d best not shut this door.

Then Latrice saw the woman carried a very pretty pink package.

“I want to see my nephew’s daughter,” Miz Alice said and stepped forward, and there was nothing to do but step out of her way or be run down by her tiny ass.

Watching the woman breeze on past into the living room, Latrice mused that for some peculiar reason she always found herself admiring Miz Alice’s gumption. She closed the front door and went upstairs to where Etta was dozing with Kate.

"Miz Alice has come to call,” she said.

Etta surprised her by jumping right up and putting on the new dress Heloise had brought—the only one Etta could now fit into (Heloise was a very smart woman)—while Latrice put darling Kate into her best gown and booties. The three of them went downstairs, where Alice Boatwright waited regally in the tall, wingback chair.

Etta stopped in the living room archway, gazing with sudden apprehension at the woman. She had not thought of anything but showing off her little princess; she had forgotten exactly who Alice was. Now their previous encounter came full-blown into her mind, bringing swiftly the anger and the shame.

Then came a surge of confidence, however, with the thought:
I am a mother now
, sending Etta stepping out and crossing the room to show Alice the perfect treasure Etta herself had produced.

“May I hold her?” Alice asked, her pale eyes looking upward with combined eagerness and anxiousness.

Carefully, magnanimously, Etta relinquished her daughter into the older woman’s arms. She saw Alice’s hands with sudden clarity; they were finely drawn, veined by the years, and—most surprisingly—shaking. The lonely hands of a woman who had never held her own child.

Etta backed up to sit on the sofa, on the edge. Beside her, Latrice propped herself on the arm, keeping one foot on the floor as if to be ready for any contingency.

Etta watched a slow, gentle smile soften Alice’s pinched face as she gazed at Lattie Kate. She gazed at her for long minutes, rocking her back and forth, beginning to murmur baby things and actually seeming a little foolish, so that Etta and Latrice glanced wonderingly at each other.

Alice finally said quite clearly, “She looks like my sister,” and looked at Etta. “What have you named her?”

Etta told her, “Latrice Katherine . . . we call her Lattie Kate.” Latrice did not contradict.

Alice tightened her lips, obviously disapproving. Looking again at the baby, she said, “Well, you will bear up underneath that, won’t you, Katherine Rivers?” She smiled. “Katherine was my mother’s name,” she added with some triumph.

She seemed lost again for long minutes of rapture with the baby, then she said to Etta, “Won’t you please open the gift I brought her?”

“Oh, yes . . ." Etta took the pink box. She opened it, peeled back tissue paper, and beheld a silver cup and spoon and rattle, all bearing the letter R.

“You know you should have called me,” Alice said, her voice both wounded and accusing. “It was despicable to hear about the birth of Roy’s daughter by way of Leon Thibodeaux.”

Etta gazed at her, thinking and swallowing each comment that came to mind, intent on keeping peace if at all possible.

Latrice said, “Miz Alice, would you like some cake and coffee?”

Alice’s eyes jumped. Then she said, “Yes, thank you,” and again looked down at the baby and swayed her back and forth. “You look like your daddy, too, sweetness . . . beautiful like he was when he was born. All of our family, the Richardses of St. Louis are a handsome people.”

Observing her appreciation of Lattie Kate, Etta felt her heart grow more tender toward Alice. There were so many sides to people—a revelation that made her think of Roy and smile inwardly. She supposed she could learn to get along with Alice. She knew in that moment a sense of power over the woman. It came, she thought, from a fresh, and surprising, recognition of her own strength.

Latrice brought coffee and chocolate cake she had just made, and Alice stayed an hour in which she alternately cooed at Lattie Kate and commented on what she had heard (apparently by way of Leon) about Etta selling the furniture and deciding to keep the house.

“You have Katherine to think of now,” Alice said. “You really have to consider practicalities. Leon seems assured that you could get a nice profit from this place. And you can’t keep all this up by yourself, a woman alone. Besides, it would be better for Katherine in town.”

She continued on about the better schools and the hospital being in town, and how her sister had never been happy this far from town, and that she herself believed her sister would have lived longer, if she had been closer to a hospital.

“I think Lattie Kate will do well here,” Etta said.

Alice’s eyes rested on her. “We own several nice rent houses in town. There’s one I think would be right for you—and Latrice, too, of course. I’m certain we can work out an arrangement where you can afford it.”

Etta, somewhat stunned, said, “Thank you for the offer, Alice, but this is our home.”

“You won’t need to worry about runnin' into Corinne Salyer. I had a talk with her and made her realize that it would be best for her and everyone if she moved away. Her mother agreed, and persuaded Corinne to go down to Wichita Falls to live for a while with Amy’s sister, I believe.”

“I’m sorry you did that,” Etta said tightly. Her spine had gone suddenly rigid, her lungs compressed. “It was none of your business. Corinne had every right to remain where she was.”

“Her rights weren’t at question. The best thing was. She would never really find happiness because people would always talk, at least for a number of years.”

With great surprise, Etta saw Alice’s lips quiver. Then she breathed deeply. “I really was tryin’ to help. People talk for a long time about such juicy gossip, but without her around, it will all be forgotten. She’ll have a new start, and you will, too. Without Corinne there, you and Katherine and Latrice can move into town, and Edward and I would be able to help you when you need it.”

Etta said, “I appreciate what you tried to do in my behalf, Alice. But this is our home and where we wish to live.”

Alice simply blinked and said, “Yes . . . well, I imagine you’ll want to think it over,” and then returned her attention to cooing at the baby.

When Lattie Kate began to fuss to be nursed, Alice finally took her leave. On her way out, she stopped and said to Etta, “Thank you for letting me see her.” Her eyes were blank as a blackboard, but there was something in her voice that touched Etta.

“You can come out and see her anytime you like,” Etta said.

Etta and Latrice, holding Lattie Kate, stood in the doorway and watched Alice’s Cadillac drive away—and Alice even waved out the window.

Latrice shook her head. “Looks like Kate has turned that woman to butter . . . well, strong sour cream anyway.”

Etta chuckled and waltzed Lattie Kate across the entry and through the house, singing, “Lattie Kate, sweet Lattie Kate, you melt hearts wherever you go.”

Saturday came, and Johnny took Little Gus to a bush track he had heard of over in Caddo County. It was nothing more than a track scratched into a flat piece of ground owned by a farmer who also raised horses, where riders and owners gathered to race and bet and have a good time now and then. Obie went with him, and Woody met them there.

Etta remained at home. She could not leave Lattie Kate for an entire afternoon, nor did she believe Lattie Kate, at only a week old, should yet be taken out and exposed to the sun and wind. Etta missed going terribly, though, and the instant she heard Johnny’s pickup coming up the drive, she raced out onto the porch.

Johnny came tooting his horn, and Obie waved his blue ball cap out the window, instantly setting Etta’s heart thumping. Johnny stopped the truck, leaned his head out the window and smiled at Etta.

“We won another, Miz Etta,” he said, his eyes twinkling like bright stars.

This was good news. It appeared the most natural thing, too, as if the horse had been predestined for this winning, and Johnny awfully smart for seeing it.

After putting Little Gus away in his corral, Johnny came into the kitchen for supper and waved bills at all of them, licked his fingers and counted out Etta’s share with exaggeration. She had given him twenty dollars to bet, should it turn out he could get a promising race for Little Gus. He put sixty dollars in her hand, so very proudly.

“The boy’s in tall cotton,” was Obie’s expression. Etta just had to grin at him. She took his hat and put a cold drink in his hand and set a plate of pork chops in front of him. She didn’t know what she enjoyed most—that Little Gus had proved out again, or that Johnny was so happy about it.

Obie was already telling tales of the afternoon, and Johnny jumped in with further elaborations as to how after Little Gus had won his race, a number of men had wanted to match their horses against him, but Johnny would not.

“The less we race him, the more unknown he is, and I think we’ll do better to keep him that way. I want to save his best for some real races with good-sized purses.”

With the added work of Harry Flagg’s four horses being stabled in the barn, Etta arranged for Obie’ s youngest nephew, who was actually named Nathan Lee Lee, to come clean stalls and help out after school each day. Johnny gave him free riding lessons, and Etta paid him a small salary, which she had to increase when Jed Stuart brought two three-year-old geldings to stable.