Lily of the Springs (28 page)

“But the chicken,” I protested. “I already…”

“Yeah, I know. Thawed it out. The
devil
take the damn chicken, Lily. We’re going out tonight, and that’s final!”

***

I wasn’t at all surprised to find the apartment empty when I stepped inside with a whining Debby Ann just after midnight. When Jake said he’d be late, he meant
late
. Still, I couldn’t help but be disappointed—and a little put out—that he was still out honky-tonking.

Debby Ann was already in her Bugs Bunny pajamas so all I had to do was put her into the crib. By the time I tucked the soft pink blanket around her small body, she was asleep, her thumb plugged into her mouth. Alarmed, I stared down at her. Something was definitely wrong here.

She’d been sleeping when I’d taken her over to the Kelly’s this evening; she’d been sleeping when we returned from dinner. On Betty’s insistence, I’d stayed for several hours, listening to records on their brand new hi-fi while Eddie and Betty taught me how to play Pinochle. And Debby Ann had slept through it all.

Gazing down at her, I touched a finger to her petal-soft, white cheek-- so pale it could’ve belonged to a china doll. “What’s wrong with you, baby girl?” I whispered, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

Forget making an appointment
! I’d take her into the emergency room first thing in the morning. If I had the car, I’d do it right now. But then…

I brushed a hand through her golden curls—so like little Charles Alton’s—and felt her forehead. Cool. This made me feel a little better. If the baby was really sick, like Charles Alton had been, wouldn’t she be feverish?

Assuring myself this was so, I turned away from the crib and began to unbutton my knit dress, another Betty hand-me-down. I slipped out of it and carefully hung it on a hanger, sliding a hand down its soft, ribbed bodice. Such a pretty color of turquoise. Betty must’ve spent a fortune on it, if the fancy California department store label was any indication.

Would there ever be a day when I could walk into an I Magnin and buy a dress like this? My lips curled at the thought as I perched on the stool in front of the dressing table and reached for my brush.

Yeah,
that
would happen. With Jake getting out of the service and us moving back to Kentucky, I’d be lucky to be able to walk into Grider’s Drugstore and buy a bottle of Evening in Paris.

I sighed and began to brush out my hair. This time next week, I’d probably be back sitting in Gladys Tatlow’s living room, watching a snowy TV and listening to old man Royce snoring in his chair by the woodstove.

Tears blurred my vision at the thought. It just wasn’t
fair
that I had to go back to Russell County and live under Gladys’s roof…no, it was worse than that. I’d be living under her blame
thumb
! No cooking my own meals anymore, no taking pride in cleaning my own house…and what would it be like with Debby Ann there? Just those few days we’d spent at the Tatlows’ over Christmas last year had demonstrated that my mother-in-law had some strong opinions on child-rearing and not a bit of compunction in expressing every one of them. I’d just gritted my teeth and smiled politely, knowing I’d soon be back in Texas and doing exactly what I saw fit. But there would be no grinning and bearing it once I had to do it on a daily basis. I’d up and die first.

I gently placed my brush on the dressing table and gazed into the mirror, seeing an attractive, dark-haired woman wearing a full-length white slip, her brown eyes watery and mournful, her still girlishly round cheeks wet with tears. I was only 20 years old…had my whole life ahead of me.

And I was going back to Russell County, Kentucky, where I’d live with my in-laws, probably spit out a baby every year like clockwork, and grow old before my time just like Mother and Gladys Tatlow had…like just about every woman did down there in the sticks. It was my destiny, I supposed. What had made me think I’d escape it?

I dropped my face into my hands and burst into sobs.

Lord, I’d rather die than live a life like that
. Even as I sobbed my heart out, I knew that wasn’t true. In fact, in a secret place in my heart, I had to admit a tiny part of me was looking forward to going home.

I’d grown up so much since that cold January day I’d left Kentucky, pregnant with Debby Ann, and clinging to Jake as if he were a life-buoy keeping me afloat as I drifted out to sea. I would return home a different person—a sophisticated and worldly lady, thanks to Betty’s influence. Why, everybody in Russell Springs would sit up and take notice. I could just imagine the faces of Katydid and Daisy. They’d be so impressed at the change in me.

And Chad. I caught my breath in mid-sob and slowly lifted my head. Lord, if Pat-Peaches looked half as bad as she had in the drugstore the Christmas of ’52, Chad would take one look at me and wish he could turn back time.

Sniffling, I grabbed a tissue out of the Kleenex box on the dressing table and dabbed at the smudged mascara under my eyes. Going home wouldn’t be all bad, I reckoned. One thing was for sure. If Royce Tatlow gave me any grief—about anything!—I’d tell him to stick it where the sun don’t shine! Gladys, too. Them two was going to find out that the scared little wallflower they’d bossed around two years ago had grown into a tiger-lily with claws that could draw blood if need be.

And of course, it
would
be nice to be back home with Mother and Papa and Norry and Edsel and Landry. I’d never heard much from the boys but every week, a letter had arrived from Norry, so regular you could set your clock by it. Lord, that girl had probably grown like a weed since I left. After all, she’d turned ten back in July.

A noise from the living room drew my attention. It was the jangle of keys followed by the sound of the front door opening. Relief flooded through me. I grabbed the brush, ran it through my hair once more and got up from the stool. I really hadn’t expected Jake to be home before the wee hours, but I was glad he was.

“Oh, honey, I’m glad you weren’t out too late,” I called out, hurrying into the hallway to meet him. “I really think we need to take Debby Ann to the doctor tomorrow. She’s just not…” My voice died away as I stepped into the living room.

Jake stood swaying just inside the front door, a drunken grin on his face, a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand--and a harlot in the other.

“Well,
there’s
my purty little wife,” Jake said, his grin widening. “Lily Rae, this here’s Lou Ellen.” He nudged his bottle at the harlot. “I figgered she could give you a love lesson on how to please your man.”

***

When I stepped back into the living room with the butcher knife in my trembling hand, I saw what was happening in a blur—the harlot on her knees in front of Jake…my husband cradling her head, his eyes rolling back with passion.

“You lowdown good-for-nothin’ bastard,” I said with icy calm. I marched over to them and grabbed a handful of the woman’s hairspray-stiff bottle-blonde hair and yanked with all my might. “
Get your filthy mouth off my husband, woman
!”

“
Ouch
!” The woman shrieked, tumbling onto the floor at Jake’s feet. “
Son of a bitch! That hurt
!”

I glared at her. “It was
meant
to hurt. Now, get the hell out of my home before I use this here knife to scalp you bald as an Injun!” I didn’t wait to see if the woman would take me at my word, but turned my attention to my low-life husband who was gaping at me like I was an escapee from the loony bin. “And
you
, you disgusting piece of dog-shit, get yourself and your filthy little ding-dong out of my house or I swear to God Almighty, I’ll cut it off at the root and
feed it to the pigs out on Rt. 82!”
To emphasize my words, I thrust the butcher knife at his exposed penis. He flinched and quickly pushed it back into his pants and zipped up.

“Now, Lily,” he said, a wary look on his lean, handsome face. “Don’t go all batty on me. I was just kiddin’ around.”

I took a step closer, moving the knife in threatening little circles, and stared him in the eye. “You
dare
to tell me you’re just
kiddin’ around
? That whore had your goddamn
penis
in her mouth! Now, I mean what I say, Jake. Get the
hell
out of my house! And don’t come back, you hear me? It’s
over
!”

Even though he was still drunk, my words apparently penetrated into his beer-pickled brain. His slack face took on an expression of fear and remorse. “Come on, I…”

“
No
!” I cut him off. “I
mean
it this time, Jake. I’ve had enough! You don’t love me. I don’t think you ever did! A man who loves his wife don’t bring a tramp home to give her ‘love lessons.’” I flicked a glance toward the harlot, and saw that she was gone. Apparently, she’d realized I meant business. “Now, get on out of here. Go find your little whore and finish what she started. I don’t
care
anymore!”

He extended a placating hand. “Lily Rae, you don’t mean that…”

The nausea I’d felt earlier threatened to engulf me. With as much strength as I could muster, I stepped closer to my husband and positioned the knife just beneath his jaw.

“You care to make a wager on that?” I whispered, my gaze holding his. “I’ve never in my life been as mad as I am right now, Jake Tatlow. A little slip of this here knife and you’ll be pumping blood all over the floor. And you know what? Even a Texas court won’t put me away when they find out what happened here tonight.”

For a long moment, we stared at each other. Seconds ticked by. Finally, Jake swallowed hard and backed away. Relief swept through me. Despite everything, I hadn’t wanted to kill him, but if he’d touched me…I knew I would’ve done it. I’d never felt rage like this. Never thought it was
possible
to feel rage like this.

He waited until he stepped out into corridor before summoning his courage. Straightening his shoulders—as well as he could with being dead dog-drunk, he pasted a half-assed sneer on his face. “Well,
fine
, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes! If that’s the way you want it,
fine
! You go on and file for divorce. You just go right ahead.” His eyes blazed. “I’ll find me a wife who knows how to please her man! Who’s not so damn persnickety that she can’t perform oral sex on her own blame husband. Well, fuck you, Lily Rae.
Fuck you
!”

I slammed the door in his face and locked it. I heard him shuffle off down the hall, still screaming “fuck you” at the top of his lungs.

I crumpled to the floor, my hands covering my ears to block out his shouting. Rocking back and forth, I released the sobs that had been held tight in my chest since the moment he’d walked into the apartment with that tramp in his arms.

A pounding came at the door, and I stiffened, thinking he’d returned, and this time, I’d really
have
to kill him.

“Lily! It’s Betty. Open up!”

I tried to get to my feet, but my legs were trembling so badly, they refused to work. “Betty, I…” My voice came out ragged and weak.

“Lily!” Betty’s voice rose in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I whispered, and tried again to stand. This time I was successful, but it took me a moment as I fumbled at the lock.

“Lily, goddamn it!
Answer me
!” Panic rang in Betty’s voice. “What the hell did he do to you?”

The lock gave, and I opened the door, leaning against the jamb to support myself. I looked at my friend and said softly, “I almost killed him, Betty.”

She stepped inside. She wore a plain white cotton nightgown and had her hair up in rollers. Moving quickly, she wrapped an arm around me, helping me over to the sofa. I hugged my bare arms, realizing how drafty it was in the apartment, and here I was, wearing only a thin nylon slip.

“I’m cold,” I murmured.

“Hold on.” Betty disappeared down the hall and came back with a blanket she’d pulled off the bed. She draped me in it and sat down beside me, pulling me close. “Tell me what happened.”

In halting words, I told her everything. She remained quiet, but I felt the tension in her body. The heat of her growing anger was so intense it almost burned my skin.

“I
could’ve
killed him,” I said, after finishing the story. “If he hadn’t left when he did…” I looked down.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you a bit,” Betty said. Her hand fastened on my chin. “Look at me, hon.”

Lifting my head, I gazed into her livid blue eyes.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Her grip tightened on my chin. “It’s
over
, Lily. No woman has to put up with this kind of treatment. You’re a young, beautiful woman. You deserve so much more than Jake Tatlow. You
do
know that, don’t you?”

Tears welled in my eyes. I nodded, and Betty released my chin. “Well, then,” she said matter-of-factly. “Tomorrow I’m going to find a good divorce lawyer for you. And don’t you worry a bit about money. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to help you get that man out of your life.”

Shock was settling in now. My thoughts spun. How could everything change so quickly? A half-hour ago, my life had been normal; now, it had turned upside down.

Betty stood, running her hands down her cotton nightgown. “Okay, you’re coming over to my place tonight, just in case that piece of slime decides to come back. I’ll pack you some overnight things while you go get Debby Ann, okay?”

Moving as if I were in a fog, I glided down the hallway to the bedroom. The thud of my heart seemed to keep time with the shuffle of each foot. I went over to the crib and gazed down at Debby Ann. For a long moment, I just stared at the tiny form lying motionless. Finally, I reached out to wake her. And a chill crept up my spine. The baby’s skin felt odd—cool and clammy. Turning, I flicked on the light. “Debby Ann?” I scooped the little girl into my arms and cradled her.

No response. Her legs dangled listlessly like the rag-doll Mother had made for her last summer. Her face looked like yellowed cottage cheese.