And they all nodded at the truth of it.
BY WEEK’S END, CLAIRE FELT WELL ENOUGH THAT SHE began getting up and helping Irma in the kitchen, keeping her company in the quiet afternoons while they prepared the men’s meals. The medicine that Doc Peters had gotten for her had defanged the pain that still occasionally bit her womb, but those stirrings were becoming rarer with each passing day, giving way to a renewal of her strength. It was a blessing to have good health once more, and she swore she wouldn’t take it for granted ever again. With this thought in mind, on Friday afternoon she set out for her mother’s to visit with her children.
It was a long walk from town, but the day was pleasant, with a breezy, indecisive wind that blew this way and that, keeping the heat from feeling too overbearing. Within the first mile, though, she began to doubt her decision. She wore a straw sun hat that her aunt had lent her, but even with its shade, she found herself fading in the hot afternoon sun. Soon her frock was damp with a sweat that smelled unhealthy and foreign to her, the tang of her sickness in it, rising up from some deep well within her.
There was nothing but to keep going. She walked more slowly and found she felt somewhat better, but the afternoon was fading, the sun slanting from the western sky. Once she reached her mother’s, she decided, she’d send Tom to borrow the Clemmons’ wagon for a ride back to town.
When she approached her mother’s house, Claire saw Tom in the front yard, idly pulling at weeds. He stood when he saw her, but wavered a moment. Claire imagined some internal struggle between child and man. After a moment’s hesitation he dropped the handful of grass and ran to embrace her, calling “Ma!”
It felt even better than she had imagined to squeeze him in her arms. She kissed the top of his head and they went together towards the house. Her mother came out on the porch now, Nan on one hip.
“Well, well, it’s lady Lazarus come for a visit,” she said with a grin. “You’re mended?”
“A lot better.” Claire took Nan from her mother. Tears welled in her eyes when she felt Nan’s small arms grip her. My babies, she thought.
“Come on in and sit down,” her mother said. “You still don’t look full well to me. Can you stomach coffee?” Claire nodded and followed her mother into the house.
“Tom,” her mother called.
“Ma’am?”
“Fetch me some more kindling for the fire. It’s dying out on me.”
They watched the boy go out.
“He’s a good, strong chopper,” her mother said. “You sit now. Go on.”
Tom and Nan’s bedding had been folded and set on the floor at one end of the couch. Claire settled herself in beside it, tired from the walk and marveling at being served like a guest. Nan climbed onto her lap and Claire hugged the girl to her.
After she had stoked the fire, Claire’s mother came back to the living room and, knees cracking, sat in her chair in the corner.
“Doc says I’m to take the pills for another ten days,” Claire said. “It’s give or take, but getting better.” After a pause, she added, “I’ve been helping Irma with the cooking and cleaning.”
“Well, you should. We’re beholden.” Her mother stirred her coffee. “Now that you’re getting up and about again, you given any thought to what you aim to do?”
“Irma has said that I’d be welcome to bring the children and live there until I can find a permanent place.”
“Oh, you can’t take children to the boarding house,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Those men are paying for quiet.”
Claire frowned. “She’s had children there before.”
“Irma’s never had any children of her own. She won’t like them. You’ll see.”
“Ma, I have to do something. And I’m not moving back in with Travis.”
“How are you going to pay for your room? Irma’s charity is only going to go so far.”
“Well, that’s another thing. There’s a man at the boarding house, one of the federals. He’s offered me a job.”
“A job?” Her mother frowned, suspicious. “Did he say doing what?”
“He needs help signing people up for the electricity.”
“What do you know about that?”
“I don’t know anything. He just thought I might could help.”
Her mother side-eyed her, skeptical. “You watch yourself girl. I don’t like the sound of this, not one bit.”
“It’s a real job, Mama.”
“Why mess with that when you and the children can just live here? I’ve been thinking. We could get another bed in here. There’s room back there in the bedroom for two of them, if they’re small.”
Claire laughed at this. “We’d be at each other’s elbows in this place,” she said. She was taken aback when she saw the wounded expression on her mother’s face. “Now, Mama. You can’t really want us. I’ll bet the kids have been running you half crazy.”
“We been getting along.”
Claire sat back and scrutinized her mother.
“What are you up to, Mama? Two weeks ago you didn’t like us on the front porch. Now you want us to move on in here?”
Her mother sucked in her chin with affront. “Can’t a grown woman change her mind?”
“Did Travis ask you to?”
“Now, Claire,” her mother said, but Claire already knew that she had nosed out the right track from the way the old woman avoided her eyes, busying herself with setting her spoon on the table.
“Nan, honey, why don’t you go find Tom?” Claire said, easing the girl from her lap. “He might need some help.” She waited until the child was out the door, then turned once more to her mother. “This is his idea, isn’t it? If I moved back out here, he figures I’d be halfway back to him. And I’d have you in my ear everyday, coaxing.” This last thought touched flame to her temper and she stood, incensed. “Why are you taking his side?”
“Why are you so mule-headed? That man is the father of your children. He’s trying hard to change.”
“What he did to me, Mama. What he did. There’s no going back after that.”
“You can’t raise those children alone. Go back. Men make mistakes. They’re mostly just good for two things, giving you babies and breaking your heart, but it’s Christian to forgive.”
“He made me sick!” Claire said. “Struck me down the same as if he’d beat me.”
“Claire, you turn the other cheek. It’s in the Bible.”
“I won’t run back to him, Mama.” She turned and strode out the open front door past Tom. She showed the boy a weak smile, but continued on, her anger fueling her quick legs. No one pursued her, nor were there any calls for her to come back and talk. Taking hold of her skirts to give her legs more room, she continued on.
She hadn’t rested nearly enough. That was clear before she was out of sight of the house. Her breath took on a medicinal taste, a sharp note that echoed the scent of her perspiration. She was a fool not to have sat longer, but