Vada Faith (26 page)

“Did you see the newspaper today?” My sister asked. We were having donuts and coffee. The shop would open in another fifteen minutes. Right now everything was quiet. Except for Vince Gill. He was crooning us a love song. Joy Ruth turned on the radio as she walked in every morning and didn’t turn it off until she walked out every evening.

“No, I didn’t see the paper.” I licked powdered sugar from my fingers and tried to keep my mind off my troubles.

“Look,” she said, handing me the newspaper.

“Ah, the new EMT’s.” I knew she’d already seen Bruiser’s smiling face. The newspaper had a big crease by his picture.

“Not that.” She pointed to another article. “This one. It’s interesting.”

“Deacon at the Tabernacle of the Righteous Wanted for Embezzling Church Funds?” I read the caption.

“Not that,” she said, impatiently, “give it to me.” She grabbed the paper. “Here.” She opened the newspaper to a spread of photos of the homecoming picnic.

“Oh, no.” I grabbed the paper from her. “What a hideous picture of me.”

“I thought it was good. I like that maternity shirt,” she said, taking a second donut from the box. “I meant to tell you yesterday but was too caught up in the book sale which by the way made a mint for the library. Not that you care. I can count on one hand the books you’ve read since high school.”

“Sorry, I am not concerned with reading at this point in my life. I’m busy right now as you know. Ugh, that picture makes me look big as a barge and the other night I did read, “Good Night Moon. For the fiftieth time. I have more on my mind these days than reading.” I shook out the paper to get a better look.

She was chowing down on another donut. She could eat more junk food than anyone I knew and never gain an ounce. I was eating healthy and taking vitamins.

“They would blow my picture up to a 5x7,” I moaned.

“Oh, stop complaining,” she said, “you don’t look that big. You are pregnant.” She took a drink of coffee from the white foam cup. “Bruiser said you’re keeping the baby. He thinks you should too. He said you told everybody at the picnic.”

“I didn’t tell everybody at the picnic,” I said, draining my bottle of water which I was now drinking instead of coffee. “Only those at our table. I wanted to tell the family at the same time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me first, Vada Faith? Hello, am I your twin here?”

“I was going to.” I looked at my sister. She looked so much like me it was eerie. “I hated to hear you say I told you so because you were right about Dottie and Roy Kilgore all along.”

“I love it when you say I’m right. I have to admit I’m even happier to hear you say you’re keeping your baby. Those two really are not stable people.” She smiled showing her dimples. “This makes me feel better. Believe me. But,” she paused, “what did John Wasper have to say about you keeping it?”

“He wants me to have an abortion or give it up for adoption.” Tears came into my eyes.

She put down her donut. “What did you say?”

“I said no. I’m keeping it.” I stood up.

“Well, if you ask me, that couple is really unhinged. Him in all that trouble and her fooling around with another man.” She stood and hugged me. I hugged her back and it felt so good.

“He might leave me,” I said, my voice quivering. It was all I could do to keep from bawling on her shoulder.

“He won’t,” she said, hugging me again. “Now cheer up. You’re on the right track.” She busied herself closing the donut box and wiping up the crumbs. “Just give your guy some time.”

“Time won’t change how he feels,” I said, brushing a donut crumb from my maternity shirt. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“I have to tell you something,” she said. “I’m just afraid you’ll hate me.”

“I’d never hate you.” I sniffed and blew my nose.

“You will.” It was her turn to have tears in her eyes. “I hate myself and you’ll hate me too.”

“What are you talking about?” I was puzzled now.

“It’s about me doing something stupid.”

“That’s my department, remember? You trying to take my job? I do the stupid stuff around here.”

“I’ll never do anything like this again if you’ll forgive me.”

“I can’t forgive you until you tell me what you did.”

“I wrote the letter.”

“What letter?” I asked. Then it hit me. The hurtful letter. The one I’d received when this whole thing started.

“I should have known,” I said. “It all makes sense now. The letter was written on the same heavy cream paper you use and I could hear your voice every time I read it. It said everything you’d been saying. I knew it was too clever for Bruiser. I didn’t think his friends were capable.”

“You mad?” She asked, in a voice so low I could hardly hear her.

“No,” I said. “I should have guessed.”

“Can you ever forgive me? It really was stupid.”

“I couldn’t,” I said, slowly, “if I didn’t do stupid things, too. So, I forgive you.”

She hugged me again. I couldn’t remember when we’d hugged so much. “Are you sure you aren’t angry?”

“I’m sure,” I said. “I want to clear up one thing though. Do you love my husband?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I realized recently that I love him as my brother-in-law. It took me a long time to figure it out. You know how I felt about him when you married him. He was my boyfriend first.”

“I know. How could I not know? The world knew.” I smiled. “It’s okay. In my wedding pictures you looked as happy as I was.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, laughing. “You were happy and beautiful.”

“Well, you were too.” I started straightening up, putting crumpled napkins in the trash. I started a fresh pot of coffee for our customers.

“Hey,” she said, “whatever happened to the fancy new car? That was one sharp ride.”

“They finally picked it up. It was just something else to make John Wasper furious.”

“I’d have kept it,” she said, going to unlock the shop door and to turn over the opened sign.

“Not if you were married to my husband.” The words were out before I could stop them.

“Well, there. A reason to be thankful I’m not,” she laughed.

“Next time,” I said, checking the appointment book, “you can be the surrogate.”

“No way,” she squealed, tossing a towel at me. “Put this in the washer.”

“Sure.” I put the towel in the back room and opened my purse. The money was all there. In my green leather checkbook. I knew I’d have to give it back and tell them I’d changed my mind. But how? I dreaded confronting them and Roy scared me a little. His wife wasn’t exactly my best friend either.

However, a plan started forming as I stowed my purse in the closet. I didn’t have time to be upset with my twin over the letter. I had too many important things on my mind. If I could get the television station to agree with my idea it might be the most exciting show Maddie Magill ever did.

“Here Dottie.” Ruth Johnson, the mayor’s wife, handed the blonde a large package tied with a big blue bow.

“Oh, thank you,” she gushed, when she opened the toy fire truck, a replica of the fire truck the city had recently bought. She put the toy next to the other baby gifts.

“I can’t believe these presents,” she said, as she sat on the floor surrounded by stuffed bunnies and teddy bears and sleepers. “You all have been so good to me.” She picked up the set of bottles. “I won’t need these though. Not for a long time,” she said, smiling, “I’m breast feeding my baby.”

There she went again. Talking about breast feeding my baby. She was really getting on my nerves. Already, I was sick of this shower. I thought the idea of her throwing herself a baby shower was dumb. Yet, I’d felt sorry for her and shown up. I was afraid nobody else would come. Wrong! Money attracts money. Most of the women here were women who had it.

“Breast feed!” Ruth Johnson squealed. “How can you breast feed when you’re not even giving birth to the baby, girlfriend?”

“I might as well be having it,” Dottie said smiling, showing her even white teeth. “I feel like I am. I can just feel myself gaining weight and my breasts are filling up.”

“Dottie’s right,” Sissy Lambert said. She was the organist from the Baptist Church and to hear her tell it, she knew just about all there was to know about birth and child rearing, now feeding the baby. “I breast fed all three of my babies and they were adopted.”

“Yuk,” Sonja Stedam, Dottie’s nearest neighbor and the only single woman in the group made a gagging noise. “How gross.”

“It’s not gross at all,” Sissy said, drawing her round dark eyes into a frown. “Dottie goes with me to La Leche. We’re teaching her how. All women can make milk. Even you, Sonja. It’s very natural.”

I sat there and felt my breasts growing heavy as the women talked about breast feeding. Well, if anyone breast fed this baby, it would be me. I should have known when that baby was conceived I would want to nurture it. Just as I protected it now as it snuggled inside me. I would look out for it all of its life. No matter what John Wasper or anyone said. It sure wouldn’t be the woman who sat there in her tight black jeans and red satin shirt and fantasized her breasts were filling with milk. Her red lips were pulled back in a sophisticated smile. No indeed. If anyone held that little baby to a breast it would be me. Not skinny Dottie Kilgore.

“Let’s cut the cake, girls,” she said, jumping up and leading the way to the dining room where the table was set with finger sandwiches, nuts, mints, and a cake, ironically enough, in the shape of a baby bottle.

“Who wants the first piece? Vada Faith?”

“Sure,” I said, “why not.” I was watching what I ate but I wasn’t about to say that to her - she must have worn all of a size two. I took the cake she offered and went into the kitchen where she kept the water dispenser.

I was filling my glass when her husband came up behind me.

“Vada Faith,” he said, quietly, and before I knew what he was doing he had his arms around me and his hands pressed against my stomach. “I feel something there.”

“Stop,” I said, pushing him away from me, “of course you feel something or I’m gaining weight for nothing.” I took my glass of water and sat down on a stool at the bar to calm my nerves.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“I’m all right,” I said, cutting the cake into tiny pieces.

“You look wonderful,” he said. “Hey,” he snapped his fingers, “you know if you change your mind, I still have that car. It’s in the garage.”

“I can’t take the car,” I said, and nervously forked a piece of cake into my mouth. “My husband is still very upset over the car.”

“Now,” he came over and stood close to me, “do you want me to talk to that husband of yours?”

“No,” I said, quickly, “Please, don’t bring me any more gifts.” I dabbed at my mouth with a stork napkin. “I cannot have you bringing me things.”

“Well, now, sweetheart. I want to give you something. A gift when the baby comes. Maybe a piece of jewelry. To celebrate its birth.”

“I can’t talk about the baby right now. I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore.”

“It’s Roy, and I tell you what,” he said, smiling, “we’ll talk about that gift when the baby comes. You may change your mind.” He put his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. “I’ll be out on the deck reading if you need anything. Anything at all. By the way,” he looked back over his shoulder, “I’ll see you in a few days. Maddie Magill is doing that update on the surrogacy. This time no embarrassing questions. She promised.” He whistled and their little white poodle Baby came running and followed him across the room.

“Yes,” I said, with relief, “I’ll see you then.” I pushed a piece of cake around on the plate until he was gone. I could leave now. I’d learned what I needed to know. They were coming on the show.

If the man had known then what I knew he wouldn’t have whistled on his way out to the back deck but he didn’t. He went whistling and smiling out to the deck chair where he stretched out and opened his book on the life of Bill Clinton.

The sweet taste of the cake had given me a queasy stomach and I had to get out of there. I didn’t tell Dottie I was leaving. I was sure I wouldn’t be missed. I was only the unimportant birth mother to her. Not the important person at the shower. Certainly not the guest of honor. The one on whom the gifts were bestowed. That was my friend with all the presents. The mother to be or so she thought.

I left quickly, leaving the cake half finished and the water glass where I’d placed it on the counter.

I opened the side door and slipped outside. It was warm for late October. The air was filled with the scent of burning leaves.

On the drive home, I took the back roads and wound my way through the country. I drank in the beauty of the changing season. The mountains rose around me in crimson and gold.

Despite the beauty, my stomach was uneasy and my emotions were in a turmoil.

As I drove past Our Lady Cemetery, I slowed the car. Some of the tombstones, dating back to the Civil War, had been righted. However many were still down. It was a shame to see a local landmark in such a sad state.

I spotted Midgy raking debris along the fence in her baggy jeans and faded sweatshirt. My sister had worked several evenings raking debris and she’d donated another $500.

The cemetery project wasn’t on my mind as I sped toward home.

I knew what I had to do, but that didn’t make doing it any easier. I wasn’t one to go back on my word. Now that was all about to change. In fact everything in my life was about to change. I felt as though I were about to take a plunge off Lover’s Leap. Without my lover.

“John Wasper,” I said, standing beside him as he lay in our bed, “don’t you want to make love to me anymore? Because I want you to.”

I hadn’t made that request for weeks, not since he’d suggested the abortion. We barely talked anymore.

“Why would you want to, Vada Faith? You’re like a stranger most of the time. We don’t even want the same things anymore.”

“That’s not true,” I said, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I love you.” I laid my head down on his chest. “Why won’t you believe it?”

“Actions speak louder than words.” He was as unmoved by my display of affection as one of the dead logs we used to walk across the creek on when we were kids. “I don’t know if I can make love to you.”