Proud Flesh by William Humphrey Page B

luck), unless she married before that time despite all her mother could do to poison her mind against that step.
    She bore the child and weaned it—or rather, her; for it was a girl—and that was one year done. And nursed her through whooping cough followed by double pneumonia, learning in the process to forgive her her existence and to live for her and her alone, waiting on her hand and foot ever afterward and spoiling her so as to make her unfit to be any man’s wife, which only made the man who married her all the more uxorious, and that was two years done. And bringing her safely through all the other childhood diseases, not one of which she was spared, and taking her to Sunday school and dancing and piano and elocution lessons and sending her off to kindergarten, and that was five years done, going on six. And found herself pregnant again by legal rape and had to start all over from scratch. This time she told him her plan, once, quietly, and endured his mumbled and confused self-apology and never mentioned it again but saw her daughter married and settled and the boy through school, or through as much of it as he could stick, then off to his military duty, and when he was discharged and immediately married, instructed the lawyer whom she had apprised of her intentions on the day of her remarriage, to proceed with her suit for divorce, looking at him as if he was crazy when he ventured to say he had forgotten about it and supposed she had too, when he said he would have thought she might have changed her mind after all these years, might have grown reconciled, might even have come to feel some attachment to the man with whom she had lived half her life.
    That was three months ago and this homecoming was Lois’s first since then. She had not dared face Ma’s disapproval, and now, full of contrition, blaming herself for their mother’s illness, she could hardly face her sisters and brothers.
    After Lois came Gladys, with her husband Laverne, from Nacogdoches. They were followed by Ross’s girls and their husbands and babies, having done the hundred and fifty miles from Fort Worth in not much over two hours. Calls were received from others en route, but none from Amy. But it was known in the family that Amy’s husband Ira was timid at the wheel and would not let Amy drive, complaining that she was worse than her Barney-Oldfielding brothers. And truly, to hit ninety-five or a hundred on a straightaway was nothing for white-haired Amy, the first-born child. Hazel’s girls, April, May and June, all married and living in and around Corsicana, arrived, and her boys Ben and Arthur, in business together over in Terrell. Ross’s Eugene, Harlan and Elwood came, the first two from Kerens, the other from Waco, where he was stationed. Clyde’s Bryan came from Marshall. Lois’s Gwyn arrived. Glenn and Hugh Childress came from Henderson. Uncle Fred, Aunt Inez and Uncle Seth came from Gladewater; Uncle Cameron and Aunt Beulah, Uncle Quincy, Uncle Monroe, Uncle Leon and Aunt Velma, Aunt Belle and Aunt Flora all came over from Carthage. Uncle Ed and Aunt Lillian came from Big Sandy. Cousin Herschell Kimbrough came from Clarksville, Cousin Calvin Renshaw from Commerce. The Cartwrights came, Duane, Ella and Mae, from Conroe. From Brenham came Cousins Bessie and Meade Vance and Cousins Raymond and Peggy Allen. From Temple came old Cousin Stacey Daingerfield and Uncle Roy Tayloe, who was certainly not an uncle whatever he was, but was too old to be called anything less. Cousin Travis Ledbetter came from Mabank, bringing Aunt Lola and Uncle Dave. But only last week poor crippled old Aunt Nan had taken to her bed for good. They would all be going down to Kilgore to bid her farewell soon.
    And so one by one the Renshaws all came home, all but one, and that one was not going to come.

VIII
    â€œJunya Price,” said the owner of the name, and doubling his sack, hung it on the hook of the scale. He