The Cotton Queen (9 page)

I shrugged. “A while I guess, I came over after the funeral.”

“Have you seen your mother?”

I shook my head.

He took my hand and led me to the beautiful nursery at the end of the hallway near my mother’s bedroom. Babs had decorated it in bright yellow gingham with Peter Rabbit wallpaper. Sometimes she had let me help. Acee opened the door and I saw her. She sat next to the crib. She looked up with surprise.

“Laney,” my mother said. “I forgot you were here.”

She forgot that I was there.

“I’ve been in my room forever,” I said. It was a complaint, but nobody seemed to notice.

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“Nope.”

“Is Hannah still here?” She glanced up at Acee questioningly. “Maybe she can fix Laney something.”

“I’ll do it,” he answered. “I’m hungry myself. Do you want something?”

Mom shook her head and gazed back into the empty crib.

I was ushered out of his room. Acee took me to the kitchen and we made ham sandwiches.

“Is that all you can cook, ham sandwiches?”

He nodded. “That’s pretty much it for me,” he said, grinning. “Before I married your mother, I either ate at restaurants or at my mother’s.”

He handed me my sandwich and I took a bite.

“It’s pretty good,” I told him.

He smiled and nodded. “That goes along with my philosophy of life,” he said. “If I can only do one thing, I want to do it better than anybody else.”

“I want to do lots of things,” I told him.

“Most people feel that way,” he said. “But sometimes it’s better to do one thing really well than to be mediocre at a number of things.”

“What’s meaty oaker?” I asked.

“Everything.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” he said. “You’ll find out about the world too soon anyway.”

I shrugged and let that go.

“What’s wrong with Mama?” I asked him. “How could she forget I was here?”

Acee reached over and tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. “She’s just sad, Laney,” he said. “Her whole heart is full of sadness right now. But she’ll get better. She’ll be fine.”

He said it with such certainty, that I had no choice but to believe him.

“For the last few months Marley has been the center of our lives,” Acee said. “I hope you don’t think that it means that you’re no longer important to us.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to me, but it did then.

“The little fellow was just so sick that we’ve had to focus all our attention on him.”

“I know.”

“You are definitely a part of this family and don’t think for a moment that you are not.”

“Okay.”

When we finished our sandwiches, Acee went to his study to catch up on some work. I went back to my room.

I played with my SoupKids inside the dollhouse.

“Are you my brother?” the girl kid asked the boy kid.

“Yes, I’m Marley. I’m your brother Marley.”

“How’d you get that broken place on your hat?”

“My mama threw me in the trash,” he answered.

B
ABS

I
SHOULD
HAVE
spurned Acee’s proposal of marriage. That’s what a good, decent woman would have done. That’s the course that an heroic, admirable mother would have chosen. I chose the path that made my life easiest. I didn’t even hesitate. Acee offered a lifeline and I would have been a fool not to take it.

But I never wanted him to feel like a fool for throwing it to me.

My intention was that he would never know the true origin of our child. A baby is a baby. No one can ever truly know who the child might favor. If it grew up to look like Burl, I would just say he reminded me of my father. No one would argue with me.

I married Acee as quickly as I could. The key to pulling off such a deception would be timing. I’d been unwilling to wait even until after the holidays. If he was surprised, he didn’t act like it.

“I don’t want a big wedding,” I explained. “It just wouldn’t be appropriate. It is my second marriage and widows are not blushing brides in yards of white organza.”

“We don’t want to...to insult Tom’s family,” he said. “There’s no need for haste.”

I waved off his concern. “I don’t want to wait,” I told him. “There’s no reason for us to delay being happy. Tom would understand.”

Acee didn’t argue with me. He wanted me to have things exactly how I wanted to have things.

His mother wasn’t quite as biddable, but Acee was her only son. She wanted him to be happy and he wanted me to be happy.

It all turned out quite well. The courthouse wedding included all his colleagues and co-workers. It was a very public wedding with both my family and his present and approving. The reception in the Grange Hall was tasteful and refined, rather than lavish and showy. Everyone in McKinney was aware of what was happening. And while not everyone could be invited, no one could truly feel left out.

All in all, I was very pleased with the wedding day.

The wedding night was a disaster.

I suppose I should have anticipated problems, but I didn’t. I didn’t expect fireworks or the earth to move. I didn’t even expect the oneness I’d felt with Tom. But I did expect to be able to tolerate intimacy.

I couldn’t.

Acee was very patient, very gentle. I told myself over and over that he was my husband and that he was not attacking me, he had a right to touch me. But my mental arguments made no difference. It felt like I was being violated. And unlike my experience with Burl, I fought back.

Acee was shocked. He stopped immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“You don’t want to do this?”

“Yes, yes, of course I do,” I insisted. “I’m just...I guess I’m nervous.”

“Then we’ll take it real slow,” he assured me.

That only helped to a point. As long as he was holding me, kissing me, whispering in my ear how much he loved me, then I was fine. As soon as things got more direct, I panicked.

He was gentle. He was considerate. But I just couldn’t bear to be touched.

Finally we chalked it up to “nerves” and decided to try again the next night. That didn’t work, either, nor the night after that. I began to dread the approach of evening, knowing that we were going to have to try again.

Mostly I held myself in rigid coldness. He attempted to tenderly, patiently arouse me. I didn’t want that. Somehow arousal was much worse. When I felt desire, it was a loss of control that was even more upsetting.

“I am so sorry,” I told him over and over. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

He kissed my shoulder reassuringly. “I know you loved Tom,” he said. “I know the memories of him are strong always, especially at a time like this. But he’d want us to be happy. And I know that we will.”

I shouldn’t have let him believe it was Tom. I shouldn’t have allowed him to think that it was only modesty and reluctance, but once a lie gets rolling, the force of it just bowls over everything that I should have done.

A month later with only two moderately successful encounters, I had no choice but to tell him that I was pregnant.

“That’s impossible,” he said. “You can’t be sure so early.”

“I’ve been through this before,” I told him. “I know all the signs.”

I tried to be upbeat, happy, cheerful. I thought it would make my deceit less obvious. Acee saw right through my ploy.

He looked down into my smiling face, glancing at my lying lips, and then he stepped backward. He folded his arms across his chest, perhaps angrily or stubbornly, or maybe just to protect his heart from breaking.

“It’s not so early, is it,” he said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

“I mean, that you were pregnant before we married,” he said. “You’ve been pregnant all this time.”

“No, no, of course not.”

“I wondered why you married me,” he said. “I thought, well, it’s the money and she has that child to support. ‘Fair enough,’ I told myself. You want her and she wants security. Lots of good marriages have been based on less. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? You were in trouble and any husband was better than none.”

“Acee, I...”

“Who’s the baby’s father? Why didn’t he marry you?”

“You’re the baby’s father,” I insisted.

“I’m not, I know I’m not,” he said. “Surely you know the man. Or were there so many, you couldn’t be sure.”

I raised my hand to slap him. A man should be slapped for such an insult. But I didn’t follow through. The lying was too hard. I was just too tired of it.

“The baby’s father was married,” I said. “But I wouldn’t have him anyway. He forced me. That’s the truth. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

I did, of course, care if he believed me. If he thought me a slut, he could put me out on the street, drag the truth through a divorce court and everybody in Collin County would know. I’d lose my daughter and everything I’d done would be undone. I’d be ruined. I’d be alone. No decent person would speak to me again. Even members of my own family, Aunt Maxine and Uncle Warren, would have to risk their reputations to stand by me. McKinney was like most small towns, close-knit and caring. But the inhabitants could be brutal to those who strayed from the straight and narrow. Especially so to women, for whom the straight and narrow was very tightly defined.

“I suppose, since you know this man was married that you weren’t attacked on the street or assaulted by some masked stranger in an alley?”

I shook my head. “No, he...he was a man I knew.”

“You led him on?”

“He thought I did,” I admitted. “But I didn’t, Acee, I swear I didn’t. Please believe me. And...forgive me.”

He didn’t answer. He turned and walked away. We didn’t speak, except in passing, for two days. Then he called me into his study just after I’d put Laney to bed.

“Is she asleep?”

“Yes.”

“No one else is in the house?”

“No.”

“Shut the door and come sit down,” he said.

I did as he told me, taking a seat on the chair by the window.

I wondered if I should be afraid of him. I learned how violent men could be. And that a cruel man could disguise himself as kind. We were all alone. He could beat me or even kill me and probably get away with it. Worse than beating or killing, he could expose the truth about me, ruin my life and cause my daughter to be taken away.

But it was Acee across the desk from me. Somewhere deep inside I understood that he would never hurt me. I trusted that the day I’d tricked him into marrying me. And I trusted it now.

“We do need to talk,” I admitted.

“
You
have already talked,” he said. “Now you’re going to listen.”

I swallowed nervously.

“I am angry,” he said. “I admit to that. And I have a perfect right to be. I was lied to and I was betrayed. There is nothing that can be said or done to undo that.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t acknowledge my words.

“I believe your story about being forced,” he said. “I can’t, even in the deepest hurt of my heartache, think that you would be untruthful about such a thing.”

“Thank you for that,” I said.

“Actually it explains a lot about your distaste for sex. I was beginning to worry that you simply found me personally repulsive.”

“Oh, no, Acee, no,” I assured him.

“I assume you had a more normal intimacy with Tom.”

“Yes,” I said.

Acee nodded. “Good. Then there is still a chance that we can pick up the pieces of this catastrophe and fashion some sort of marriage out of it.”

“That’s...that is what I want, too, Acee.”

“I’ve decided what we’ll do,” he said. “I’ll go ahead and pretend that this child is mine. I won’t have him, or her, inheriting any of the Clifton business interests, but I will feed, clothe, house and educate him. Just as I plan to do for Laney. They are your children, but I have chosen, as their stepfather, to be responsible for them. As far as the ultimate disposition of my property upon my death, we will sort all that out at a later date. You will agree to whatever I decide about that.”

His words were very firm, his expression was hard as stone and the formality in his voice distant.

I nodded meekly.

“I can only imagine that your decision to choose me as your husband was based on the mistaken assumption that I would be easily manipulated. That merely by batting your eyes and flashing me that little dimpled smile, I would do your bidding. Let me assure you, Barbara, that I am not that man.”

He certainly didn’t seem so at that moment.

“Can you ever forgive me, Acee?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “My first thought was to have the marriage annulled.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

“I’d do it, except the truth is I still care for you, I always have. I’m hoping that eventually we can put all this behind us and have the kind of life that I’ve imagined for us.”

“I will try,” I assured him. “I will make this up to you. I’ll be a very good wife. I can be, you know. I can make your life very comfortable.”

Acee nodded.

“After the baby is born and things begin to settle down,” he continued. “You will see some sort of doctor. Someone in Dallas. Somewhere unknown to us. You’ll take whatever medicine or therapy that’s required to make you capable of fulfilling your obligations to me in the bedroom as well as the rest of the house.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded agreement.

Acee retrieved some papers from his desk.

“I’ve put this agreement in writing,” he said. “I can’t say exactly why. Maybe just because I’m a lawyer. Or maybe it’s that your lies have made me distrustful, but I want your signature on this paper. I’ll keep it here in the office safe. No one will ever see it but you and me.”

I didn’t even question that. I took the pen he offered and signed my name.

“We will never speak about this again,” he said. “I don’t want the slightest chance that we might ever be overheard.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “We won’t talk about it ever.”

That sounded wonderful to me. Never to talk about it again, never to think about it again. But, of course, it couldn’t be exactly that way. I was still pregnant and Acee and I had to pretend that we were both delighted about it.

“I know it’s very early to give this news,” he said, making the announcement at a special party with both our families gathered. “But we want you to be as excited and happy as we are.”

His mother gasped. I observed his aunts and cousins gossiping together behind their hands. We had been married for only eight weeks. Still everyone was very kind and wished us well.

As the news spread I made a point of saying that the baby was due in September, though I knew I’d be lucky to get past June. I did what I could to undermine McKinney’s wagging tongues. I wore a girdle for six months. I followed a strict diet of vitamin pills, hard-boiled eggs and water. It worked pretty well. I gained only twelve pounds for the whole pregnancy. My arms and legs got reed thin. The bones in my face etched my features so sharply, it was as if I’d aged ten years.

Still, nothing could stop the rapid production of life in my womb. I knew that when the baby arrived in midsummer, there would be talk. The world was not a place of tolerance. It’s hard to explain what it was like to those who haven’t lived it. There were rules that had to be obeyed. And those who broke the rules of society were made to suffer, even those who had been forced. It was how order was maintained. How people were kept in line.

When the baby was born small and sickly, it was like a miracle, an answer to prayers I’d been afraid to ask. Marley was late enough, weak enough, frail enough that no one would dare to question his arrival. I was secretly celebrating my good luck.

Unfortunately that buoyancy did not last past the moment I held him in my arms. It was as if the baby had not been real to me until that moment. He had been only a pregnancy, an unwanted pregnancy, the terrible result of a horrid, sickening experience. If I could have given him away, I would have. But he was here now and he was mine. I had no choice but to take care of him. And he needed a lot of care.

We named him Marley. It was Acee’s mother’s maiden name. It gave him an instant sense of family and I hoped would get his grandmother permanently on his side.

He needed all the cheerleaders and well-wishers he could get. Marley was tiny, just five pounds, with thick tufts of light-colored hair. He was pale and puny. He hardly cried. It was more a mewing sound, like a frightened kitty.

His weakness, his sickness, could be laid directly at my door. I was the one who failed to take care of myself, I’d not eaten right, I’d worn those girdles. I was the one who had not wanted him.

I tried to want him now. He was so tiny, so precious. His little eyes unable to focus, his tiny fingers and toes, hesitant to grasp. I touched him and kissed him and whispered sweet words of love to him.

I also watched him, scrutinized him, looked for the mark of evil on him.

Could I hate the man who had given him life and still love the life he’d given?

I didn’t know. But I wanted to try. I wanted to be his mother. I wanted to feel for him all those wonderful things I’d felt for Laney. I tried.