child, catch the babe as he came into the world? If she were his, he would fight for her, work for her. She and the child would be his to love and to cherish.
Dear God! Where had those thoughts come from?
He didn’t want to be attracted to her.
He wished desperately that he had found something about her to dislike. She was not a ravishing beauty, but there was gentleness about her, an innate femininity and dignity. He didn’t want even to like her, but he found himself drawn to her like a mouse to a baited trap.
Why in hell did she have to be Bobby’s widow?
He closed his eyes to will the image of her away and, instead, pictured her again as she had been this morning: a man’s shirt covering her pregnancy, her hair pulled back and held with a ribbon, her cheeks flushed and eyes open and honest, blue as the sky.
He threw an apple core far out into the brush alongside the riverbank. He wanted nothing to do with her. Hell, it was one thing to have a sexual need, but, Christ on a horse, not with a pregnant woman! Besides, what woman of goodness, gentleness and intelligence would have anything to do with a man who had spent two years in prison?
A bell clanged. He got slowly to his feet, steeling himself to climb the giant girder again.
Chapter 5
B Y LATE AFTERNOON the mattress had been delivered and four cabins were clean and ready to rent. Eli had raked along the front of the cabins, and the trash had been picked up. He had helped Mary Lee feed the sheets into the wringer, carried the wet clothes basket and then held the two ends of the sheets together while she fastened them to the clothesline. He had been such a help that when the last cabin was cleaned, she had put her arm across his shoulder.
“I’m so glad you stopped here, Eli. Please don’t leave for a while.”
“If . . . ya don’t want me to.” His face turned a bright red, and he refused to meet her eyes.
The only blot on the day came at noon, while Eli and Mary Lee were sitting at the kitchen table. Dolly came from her room. She was wearing an old wraparound robe. Her hair looked as if she had been in a tornado. Hungover from the night’s drinking spree with Pearl and Frank Pierce, she was in a foul mood.
“Who’re you?” She squinted at Eli.
“This is Eli Stacy, Mama. He’s going to help us for a while.”
“Sh . . . it. Whose kid is he?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Stacy’s,” Mary Lee said, and winked at Eli. “He can get his skinny ass out of here. We ain’t feedin’ no tramps.”
“He’s staying here,” Mary Lee said firmly.
“Not in my house, he ain’t.”
“It’s my house, too, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m setting up a cot in the washhouse.”
“Sh . . . it!”
“Watch your language, Mama,” Mary Lee said sharply.
“You think a kid like that ain’t never heard the word ‘shit’ before?”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s heard it or not. I hate it when you talk trashy.”
“Well, la-dee-da. You sure got uppity all of a sudden.”
“Is Pearl still here?”
“She left last night. Happy now?”
“Sit down and eat, Mama.”
Dolly ignored Mary Lee and opened the icebox. “Not a goddamn thing in there fit to eat.” She filled a glass with ice chips, poured tea from the pitcher on the table and went back to her room.
Mary Lee got up and closed the door to the icebox.
“My mother . . . isn’t well,” she said to Eli. “She’s usually out of sorts in the morning.” When he said nothing, she added, “You may as well know. She drinks.”
“My uncle drank moonshine whiskey.”
“Did you live with him?”
“Little while.”
“When Mama goes on a drinking spree, she keeps at it until she gets good and sick. Then she’ll leave it alone for a while. My daddy spent his life trying to help her. I used to think that she drank because of me. She said many times that she hadn’t wanted to have me, that Daddy made her. He told me to pay no mind to what she said when she was drunk, that she was my
Dear God! Where had those thoughts come from?
He didn’t want to be attracted to her.
He wished desperately that he had found something about her to dislike. She was not a ravishing beauty, but there was gentleness about her, an innate femininity and dignity. He didn’t want even to like her, but he found himself drawn to her like a mouse to a baited trap.
Why in hell did she have to be Bobby’s widow?
He closed his eyes to will the image of her away and, instead, pictured her again as she had been this morning: a man’s shirt covering her pregnancy, her hair pulled back and held with a ribbon, her cheeks flushed and eyes open and honest, blue as the sky.
He threw an apple core far out into the brush alongside the riverbank. He wanted nothing to do with her. Hell, it was one thing to have a sexual need, but, Christ on a horse, not with a pregnant woman! Besides, what woman of goodness, gentleness and intelligence would have anything to do with a man who had spent two years in prison?
A bell clanged. He got slowly to his feet, steeling himself to climb the giant girder again.
Chapter 5
B Y LATE AFTERNOON the mattress had been delivered and four cabins were clean and ready to rent. Eli had raked along the front of the cabins, and the trash had been picked up. He had helped Mary Lee feed the sheets into the wringer, carried the wet clothes basket and then held the two ends of the sheets together while she fastened them to the clothesline. He had been such a help that when the last cabin was cleaned, she had put her arm across his shoulder.
“I’m so glad you stopped here, Eli. Please don’t leave for a while.”
“If . . . ya don’t want me to.” His face turned a bright red, and he refused to meet her eyes.
The only blot on the day came at noon, while Eli and Mary Lee were sitting at the kitchen table. Dolly came from her room. She was wearing an old wraparound robe. Her hair looked as if she had been in a tornado. Hungover from the night’s drinking spree with Pearl and Frank Pierce, she was in a foul mood.
“Who’re you?” She squinted at Eli.
“This is Eli Stacy, Mama. He’s going to help us for a while.”
“Sh . . . it. Whose kid is he?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Stacy’s,” Mary Lee said, and winked at Eli. “He can get his skinny ass out of here. We ain’t feedin’ no tramps.”
“He’s staying here,” Mary Lee said firmly.
“Not in my house, he ain’t.”
“It’s my house, too, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m setting up a cot in the washhouse.”
“Sh . . . it!”
“Watch your language, Mama,” Mary Lee said sharply.
“You think a kid like that ain’t never heard the word ‘shit’ before?”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s heard it or not. I hate it when you talk trashy.”
“Well, la-dee-da. You sure got uppity all of a sudden.”
“Is Pearl still here?”
“She left last night. Happy now?”
“Sit down and eat, Mama.”
Dolly ignored Mary Lee and opened the icebox. “Not a goddamn thing in there fit to eat.” She filled a glass with ice chips, poured tea from the pitcher on the table and went back to her room.
Mary Lee got up and closed the door to the icebox.
“My mother . . . isn’t well,” she said to Eli. “She’s usually out of sorts in the morning.” When he said nothing, she added, “You may as well know. She drinks.”
“My uncle drank moonshine whiskey.”
“Did you live with him?”
“Little while.”
“When Mama goes on a drinking spree, she keeps at it until she gets good and sick. Then she’ll leave it alone for a while. My daddy spent his life trying to help her. I used to think that she drank because of me. She said many times that she hadn’t wanted to have me, that Daddy made her. He told me to pay no mind to what she said when she was drunk, that she was my
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