Lily of the Springs (27 page)

He rolled his eyes and pushed away his plate. “Anyhow…” He took a sip of coffee, then cocked his head toward the doorway. “Hear that? Didn’t I tell you? She’s dropped off to sleep. Just goes to prove…coddling ain’t the way to raise kids.”

“Okay, you’re right. Anyway, so what did your sarge say?”

“Just what I expected him to say. No guarantees we’ll be sent to
Hi…wal…ya
, or any other place interestin’. Hell, I might end up in Timbuktu or Southeast Asia somewhere. I hear things are startin’ to heat up over there again.” He took another slurp of coffee and set down the cup. “I just can’t take that chance, Lily, so I told him I’m not going to re-up.”

I stared at him, shock radiating through my body. There was no mistaking what he’d said. It was clear as daylight. But I still couldn’t quite believe it. “But Jake,” I said finally. “We
talked
about this. We
agreed
that the money was too good to give up, especially since you got that promotion to buck-sergeant. Remember how we talked about all the places we’d like to go to? Germany and California…Colorado. Why, there’s a whole world out there we’ve never seen, and the Army will pay for it all! How can you turn down an opportunity like that?”

“Well…” Jake drew a pack of Winston’s from the arm of his rolled up T-shirt, tapped one out and stuck it between his lips. “I just don’t like the odds.” He struck a match and lit the cigarette, taking a long draw of it before releasing a stream of smoke. “Like as not, they’ll end up sending me over to some hellhole in Southeast Asia, and I just ain’t gonna go through that shit again. I did my part in Korea, and that’s enough.”

I just stared at him, my brain spinning. He
couldn’t
be serious! I’d always assumed Jake would be a “lifer.” With a wife and kid to support, a steady pay check wasn’t something to take lightly. How could he give up the security of the military for…
what
?

I suddenly realized how quiet it was in the apartment. When had Debby Ann stopped crying? On the radio, Kitty Kallen sang “Little Things Mean a Lot.” Jake sat leaning back in his chair, smoking his cigarette as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But I saw the wary look in his eyes. He’d been prepared for a fight about this. I took a deep breath and consciously tried to calm down. The only way I could make him see sense about this was to simmer down.

“So, what’s your plan?”

He took another draw on his cigarette and blew out a smoke ring. “Go back home. Get a job. Settle down.”

It took all my strength to hold back a shriek of dismay. I reached for my coffee cup, thinking carefully before speaking. I took a sip, then said, “Last I heard, there weren’t many jobs in Russell County…unless you want to shovel manure.”

Or work for pennies at the gas station.
I practically had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying that out loud.

Jake shrugged. “I can always get my old job back at the gas station.”

I tried not to laugh in his face. “Pumping gas for Slim Jessup wouldn’t pay for Debby Ann’s baby food. And where are we gonna live? Have you even thought about that?”

“My house. Where do you think?”

“You mean your mama and daddy’s house, right? Or are you trying to tell me you’ve up and bought us a place, sight unseen?”

Jake chuckled, making me want to slap him silly. “Now, Lily Rae, you know me better than that.”

That just made me madder. And all thought of remaining calm disappeared. I slammed my coffee cup down on the table. “Well, if you think I’m gonna move back in with your mama and daddy, and put up with all the shenanigans I did two years ago, you’ve got another think coming, Jake Tatlow. Because I
ain’t
gonna
do
it!” I stared him down, my jaw set.

His lips tightened; anger sparked in his eyes. “You ain’t got no choice, Lily Rae,” he said quietly. “I’m the head of the household, and you’re my wife. What I say goes. And I say, come December 1
^st,
we’re gonna be right back in Russell County where we belong. And if that means we gotta spend a few months living with my folks, then that’s the way it has to be and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

I stared at him, blinking back tears of fury. I knew better than to continue the argument. For now, anyway. But somehow, I had to reason with him, make him see that staying in the military was the only way we’d ever be able to make a decent life for ourselves. Later…when he was in a better mood, I’d try to convince him of that.

“Ba-ba?”

The childish voice came from the doorway of the kitchen. I looked beyond Jake’s shoulder to see Debby Ann peeping into the room, her thumb in her mouth, her face flushed and eyes swollen from crying. Jake’s head whipped around; he scowled at her.

I jumped up and headed for the toddler. “How did you get out of your crib?”

“Why, you little son-of-a-gun!” Jake shoved back his chair. “So help me, I’m going to blister your little behind.”

I reached her first and swept her into my arms. Debby Ann, seeing the anger on her father’s face, began shrieking. I turned and glared at him. “No, you’re not! You’re not gonna lay a hand on her!” I placed a kiss on the baby’s forehead. “Come on, sweetie. Mama will go lay down with you.”

My heart pounding, I turned and headed down the hallway, half-expecting Jake to follow me. But there was only silence behind me. It wasn’t until I reached the bedroom door that his voice rang out in disgust.

“No wonder the brat is so goddamn spoiled!”

That was followed by the slam of the apartment door and footsteps as he stomped his way down to the 1
^st
floor. I collapsed on the bed with Debby Ann in my arms. Hugging the whimpering toddler against me, I burst into sobs of my own.

Mother’s Fried Apple Pies

6 oz. dried apples

½ cup water

½ cup sugar

Pastry (see below)

Put apples and water in medium-sized saucepan and let stand for 1 hour or overnight. Cook, covered, over low heat until thick enough to cling to a spoon, about 45 minutes. Stir in sugar.

Pastry:

2 cups self-rising flour

¼ cup shortening

¾ c milk

Cut shortening into flour, using pastry cutter or fork until mixture is well combined. Stir in milk to make soft, but not sticky dough. Add more flour if necessary. Heat shortening in heavy skillet to 1/8” depth to medium hot. While skillet is heating, prepare dough. Pinch off piece of pastry the size of a small egg. Place on well-floured surface and roll into 5” circle. Place 2 T of apple mixture on bottom half of circle, leaving 1/2” uncovered. Fold top of pastry over apples, forming a half-circle. Press sealed edges together with tines of fork. Prick top of pastry with fork in several places. Place in heated skillet and fry on both sides until golden brown. Serve hot.

“
J
esus Christ, Lily. How on earth do you find time to cook when you’re in the middle of moving?” Betty asked.

After flipping the fried apple pie, I glanced back at Betty who sat at the kitchen table, smoking her ever-present cigarette and sipping a cup of coffee. As usual, she looked gorgeous in a trim, royal blue pantsuit, one that reminded me of pictures I’d seen of an airline stewardess’s uniform. For the past year, Betty had been letting her reddish-blond hair grow out, and now it was down past her shoulders, pulled up on the sides and fastened with tortoise-shelled combs, leaving the back flowing sleekly. It was a style that suited her, but then, I doubted Betty could look bad no matter how she wore her hair.

I wiped my hands on my apron. “I’m trying to make something Debby Ann will eat,” I said. “By the time she’s up from her nap, these’ll be cool. And Mother’s fried apple pies is one of the few things she don’t throw her nose up at.” I slid the turner under one and lifted it a bit to see if it was browned. “If she don’t eat these, then I know something’s bad wrong with her.”

“Well, if you ask me, you just worry too much.
No
, Davy!
Don’t throw
!”

From the Linoleum floor near the refrigerator, the little boy looked up at his mother, an innocent expression on his round face. The block he’d just thrown with a pudgy hand had landed a few inches from Betty’s suede slip-on. She reached down to get it and handed it back to the little boy. “Now, play nice, or you’ll have to take a nap like little Debby.”

Davy grinned at his mother and threw the block again. Betty shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’s like talking to a concrete wall.” She looked back at me. “So, what’s the problem, hon?”

I slid the steaming apple pies onto a plate, sprinkled them with powdered sugar, then took off the apron protecting my jeans and draped it over a chair. Sitting down at the table across from Betty, I reached for my cup of coffee.

“She just don’t look right to me. Haven’t you noticed how pale she always is? And lately it seems like all she wants to do is sleep. Yesterday afternoon, she slept for four solid hours. I had to wake her up for supper, and then she’d barely eat at all.”

“When was her last check-up?”

“In August. She’s due, I reckon.” I shook my head. “I keep meaning to make an appointment, but with trying to get all packed up for the move, and all…I just haven’t got around to it.”

“Well, you
better
get to it. Once those discharge papers are signed…no more free medical care.”

I sighed. “Don’t I know it? I’ll make the appointment first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Good.” Betty glanced over at the boxes stacked against one wall. “It looks like you’re getting a lot done. What I don’t understand, though, why are
you
doing the packing? Didn’t Jake tell you the Army will do that for you?”

“Yeah, I know…but he wants me to get a head start on it. Lord, that boy is so anxious to get back to Russell County, he’s got me as busy as a stump-tailed cow in fly time!”

Betty almost choked on her cigarette, and then burst out laughing. “God, I’m going to miss you, girl! No one can turn a phrase quite like you do.” Her grin faded, and a sad look came into her blue eyes. “I still can’t believe you can’t make him see reason.”

I frowned. “I know. But that’s Jake. He gets his mind set on something, and God Himself won’t get him to budge. I’m just
sick
about going back to Kentucky.”

Betty’s lips quirked. “Hard to believe this is the same girl talking that was so homesick when she first got here.”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t want to go home and see everybody. I just don’t want to go back to the kind of life we had before Jake enlisted. Besides…” I nibbled on a hangnail on my thumb. “I like being out in the real world, you know. And I want to see more of it.”

“Too bad Jake can’t change assignments with Eddie.” Betty’s gaze fastened on the plate of cooling apple pies on the counter. “Those look scrumptious. Are they cool enough to eat yet?”

I grinned and got up to get her one. “Probably not, but I’ll let you decide.” I transferred one of the pies to another plate and put it down in front of her. “Lord A-mighty, Betty Kelly, how can you
not
want to go to Germany?”

She raised a slim, arched eyebrow. “Because it’s goddamn cold there, that’s why. I’m a Californian, remember? I’ve got thin blood. And here we are, being transferred to Heidelberg in the middle of
December
, for God’s sake! When does it start getting warm in Germany? July?” She cut into the apple pie and gingerly slid a bite into her mouth. “Oooooh! Too hot…too hot…” She fanned her mouth with a hand, then swallowed. “But
delicious
! Have I told you how much I’m going to miss your cooking?”

Her compliment brought tears to my eyes. I got up from the table again, this time on the pretense of refilling our coffee cups, even though we’d already had two cups each. But I didn’t want Betty to see how her words had moved me. I knew it was more than my cooking that Betty would miss. In the almost two years we’d been next-door neighbors, we’d become as close as I’d been with my girlfriends in high school. It just killed me to think we’d be going our separate ways this time next week.

As I reached for the coffee pot, the phone rang from the living room. “I’ll be right back,” I said, heading toward the door. It was on the third ring when I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Lily Rae, it’s me.” Jake’s voice sounded rushed. “Hey, the boys are takin’ me out tonight...sort of a going-away party. So, don’t wait up for me, okay?”

My hand tightened on the receiver. “But Jake…I was gonna fry up a chicken. It’s already thawed out and everything.”

“You can fry it tomorrow night,” he replied, sounding irritated. “The boys already planned this, and I ain’t gonna disappoint them. Anyhow, it’ll be a late night. Gotta go.” Before I could say a word, the phone went dead. I sighed and placed the receiver in its cradle on the end table.

“What’s wrong?” Betty asked when I stepped back into the kitchen. “You look like…how did you put it last week? A mule eating briars?”

I released an exasperated breath and plopped back into my chair. “Jake! He’s going out with the boys’ tonight. Told me not to wait up.”

Betty licked her index finger, pressed it onto a bit of powdered sugar on her empty plate and slid it into her mouth. “Well, you’ll just have to come over and have dinner with us, then. If you don’t mind having Vienna sausages and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, anyway.”

“Why don’t ya’all come on over here? I can fry up the chicken I’ve got thawed out.”

Betty grinned and sat up straight. “Hey, I have a better idea. Let’s get Merline to come over and watch the kids, and I’ll get Eddie to take us
out
for dinner. It’s about time both of us had a night out, don’t you think? We’ll have our own going-away party.”