Making a choice out of necessity, part four

Her sisters supported the marriage. That made sense. They always considered her late husband Al a degenerate, and at one time she overheard Louise say he was a “gangster.”  Both were content in their marriages and wanted the same for their younger sister. They also wanted to be sure that Leta and her children had a good provider in their lives.

Still, Leta knew she didn’t love Ora. Her heart, even her soul if she could make such a claim, belonged to Al. Anger rose in her every time one of them even hinted that Al was not a good provider or devoted to her, Vivian and Dale. Yet Al was gone now, and she had to make a decision about whether or not to marry Ora.

Ora had been so kind to her and the children over the recent months that she wondered if love was all that important, and, after Al, could she even love anyone else?

Three months had passed since Al was killed. The shock had dissipated, but the grief continued. At the same time, she and her children had needs. She was their mother; she must do what she must to provide for her children. She had been sitting at the kitchen table for well over an hour and needed to begin her day.

Ora was coming for supper, and she would give him her decision then. While he had given her time to respond to his offer, recognizing that this would be difficult and his proposal had taken her by surprise, he deserved an answer, even though she still didn’t know what that answer would be.

Then she heard the chirping. A dozen or so finches were sitting in the trees in the back, resting and fueling for their migration south for the winter. Although it was only September, winter was coming soon. The Farmer’s Almanac on the coffee table indicated that this was to be a hard one. The money was nearly gone, and she needed to take care of her children. With a great sigh, she stood and carried her coffee cup and uneaten toast to the sink.

Some decisions, she realized then, make themselves.

That evening when Ora arrived, she could tell he was anxious. She had waited one day too long to respond, and his feelings were altering. Even so, he had taken the time to bathe and refresh himself after work. He wore a clean shirt and slicked down his thinning hair. While he had cleaned his teeth, she could smell the remnants of gin on his breath.

She, too, had dressed for the evening, styled her hair and applied a little perfume. They were like young people at a first meeting—eager, insecure and anxious.

Leta brought them both a small glass of brick wine that had just fermented. While not her favorite, it was less expensive than other illegal beverages. The children were in their rooms. The meal was nearly ready. The setting sun had just dropped behind a bank of heavy clouds rolling in. Leta closed the living room window, through which a gust of wind had just ruffled papers.

“Rain is coming,” Ora said, breaking the silence. “It’s gonna be a big storm, I think.”

Leta sat down beside him on the sofa. He looked right at her. She looked right back and after a moment, spoke:

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other evening. I confess that I was surprised. It’s been very … overwhelming … since Al died. As you know, I’ve been at a loss without him. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and the children….”

Ora’s countenance started falling. She was taking too long. Her stammering was sending the wrong signal.

“Yes, let’s get married,” she blurted out.

They were married three months later, right after Christmas.