Chapter Three
1917
1917
“Come on, Cy,” she pleaded.
He looked past her, exhaled and ran his fingers though the
waves of his hair. “I’m tired. Just leave me alone, and can you get her to
stop crying?” He turned away from Mary
and headed to the bedroom. “Welcome hooooome,
Cy,” he sing-songed defeatedly to himself.
The afternoon had been unseasonably warm for May and the bricks
of the house tended to sponge up the heat until the early morning hours. Of course he would be short with her. He hated the heat and judging from the
temperature in the valley, the return across the west desert must have been
dreadful.
“I’ve got your favorite meatpie with shortcrust ready for
you. I could bring you some fresh water
so you could wash up.”
“Did you get that…good Lord!
What is up with that child, Mary?”
“Cy, please. I think
she’s cutting a molar. She’s had a fever
and it’s been so hot and we’ve been so looking forward to you comin’ home. Can’t you just come sit down on the porch
with me for a while?”
Cy’s father had built them a porch swing when the house was
about halfway done and it became obvious that there would be a covered front
porch that spanned the front. There was
always a bit of a breeze coming down from the canyon and the porch tended to be
cooler than inside. Maybe if she could
just get him on the swing and away from Ivy’s wailing, he’d calm down and they
could have a few moments of peace like when they first set up housekeeping. Maybe she could even get a smile out of him.
Their wedding had been simple. Pastor Hodge from the Methodist church in
town married them. She wore her best
Sunday dress. Cy did his best to look
good, but since he didn’t go to church often, he wasn’t very practiced at
cleaning up. Both sets of their parents
walked into town with them and Cy’s folks paid to get their picture taken. Pictures were expensive and the only person
in town that had a camera was the undertaker, Tiffin Gram. Most families didn’t take pictures of their
loved ones until they died, because it cost so much. Mr. Gram was pretty well-to-do, between
embalming and taking photos. Cy’s
parents had a little more money than most folks. His dad, Jim Earl, was a beet farmer and he
supplied the entire northern portion of the state and some of the counties just
over the border with his “bloody gold.”
Cy looked up from where he sat on the bed, removed a boot
and let it drop to the floor. “Woman,
why are you hounding me?”
“It’s just that, well…you’re finally home and I wanted to pass
some time talking. It gets lonely without
you here and I was just looking forward to some conversation. Ivy’s been a handful the last week and your
mother hasn’t been over to help for a while.
I guess I just thought that you’d be happy to see me.”
“What? You must be
joking! Why are you doing this to
me? Isn’t it enough that you have this
house and you don’t have to work like most of the wives around here? If I was a farmer, you’d be toiling away. But, no…you have a nice house. You don’t have to work. You got the baby and now your pressuring me
‘cuz I’m not worrying about taking care of you and your loneliness?” His voice became louder the longer he
talked. “I get back home and all you can
do is complain about how rough your life is?”
Ivy was crying louder now and Cy was scowling back and forth
between the nursery and Mary.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all! Please let me explain.”
“You ungrateful little bitch! You have been leading me to think that you’re
happy, but now I find out that everything I’m doing just ain’t enough for
you! You’ve been lying to me! Do you know the kind of pressure that puts on
me?”
“Lying? You’re
misunderstanding what I’m saying! I
swear! Give me a chance!” She was begging and found that her fingers
were intertwined in front of her as if she was praying. She thought about Pastor Hodge.
Cy picked up his discarded boot and she tried to stop him
from leaving the bedroom by filling the doorway with her body. He took a deep breath, jutted his bottom jaw
forward, gritted his teeth and shoved her out of the way. “I am gone!”
He hopped several times as he tried to put his boot on as he proceeded
out the side door.
She stood in the doorway, sobbing. “I’m sorry!
Where are you going? Please come
back! Don’t leave like this!”
He waved her off and kept on moving.
Tears ran down her face.
Ivy was screaming. Mary spun
around and awkwardly stumbled into the nursery.
“Stop it right now, Ivy!” she screamed.
Ivy was standing and holding the edge of the crib. The child’s eye opened wide; she paused with
fear for a moment and then started wailing again. Mary’s hands flew to her
temples, she grabbed her hair and she started screaming and muttering
unintelligibly. Both mother and daughter
continued their delicious duet until night began to fall. Ivy finally went down and her tears gradually
diminished as she dozed off. Mary
eventually slipped to the floor and slept, as well, her tears staining the
wooden floor beneath her face.
3 comments:
Wow... Cy's got a short temper. *sigh* Poor Mary.
OMG, I want more! I can't wait to continue. Can't you just write a piece everyday, LOL!! Way great story!! Thanks you for entertaining us.
Well done, it hurt to read her pain.
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