Unwelcome

Leta stood in the living room with her mother Julia, her mouth nearly hanging open in shock. While she was embarrassed and surprised, she could feel those emotions quickly churning into rage.

They had invited their guests to sit, sip coffee, enjoy one of Leta’s raisin-filled cookies, but the guests refused politely. The quartet of three men and one woman were content to stand close together, as if for protection, in the doorway that separated the small entrance of Julia’s house from the living room.

“Is it true, Sister Chetister, that you have left your husband to be with another man?” the spokesperson of the group, an older man called Brother Adamson, asked.

“Not quite,” Leta responded questioningly.

“As we understand it, you have left your lawful husband, our blessed Christian Brother Ralph Chetister, taken his beloved children away and moved in with your mother.” He gave a conciliatory nod to Julia who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “All this in order to fraternize with a man who is not your husband. Correct?”

Leta nearly scoffed. While her estranged husband Ralph did attend church with her and the children, he did so reluctantly, referred to the preacher as an old windbag and rarely participated in other activities, such as Bible study or helping to maintain the property. When he was invited to undergo deacon training, he informed Leta that he told the church elders that his work schedule prevented him. His interest in faith was based almost exclusively on his understanding that a churchgoing man was more respected in the community.

“And we know that you have previously prevented him from deacon training,” the second man, Brother Roberts, a pale, sniffling, mostly timid fellow, added in a rare moment of aggressiveness.

At this comment, Julia scoffed loudly enough for all to hear, and Leta quickly turned her head to send a firm, silent request that her mother refrain from further outbursts. Immediately, Julia’s face resumed its blank expression, but anyone who knew her well could see in her body language that the older woman, well into her sixties, was poised to launch an all-out verbal attack on their increasingly unfriendly visitors.

“Yes, well,” Leta stammered a little, but grew more confident as she spoke, “I am sure that you have come here out of the goodness of your hearts. I greatly appreciate your concern for me and my children. To set the matter straight, though, while it is true that my husband and I have separated, and the children and I felt compelled to move in with my mother, it was not to pursue a relationship with another man. I did not meet my friend until after trying every means at my disposal to reconcile with Ralph.”

That was what she said. In her mind, she was screaming at them for their unacceptable and vicious assault on her and their unbelievable support of Ralph who had immediately ceased attending the parish when he moved back in with his parents. When Leta finished, there was a short pause. She could—everyone could—hear the asthmatic breathing of the third gentleman, older brother to the woman. While he rarely spoke and seemed to never posit his opinion, he was always present at such actions. Leta’s church friends referred to him as “the doom.” Finally, Brother Adamson spoke again.

“Nevertheless, a good Christian church cannot abide having a woman who has rejected the blessed marriage bond remain in our company,” he declared, “and far less can we abide having such a woman as to do this and take up with another man remain. Women are to submit to their husbands and remain steadfast to the marriage bonds, Sister Chetister. That is what the Bible teaches us.”

“This sin is just…just…shameless,” their female companion, Sister Rose, added, so frustrated that she clung to her brother for support.

Sister, we beseech you,” Brother Adamson continued, “turn away from this great, grievous sin, repent and return to the husband God has so generously selected for you. Your current situation is unacceptable to the Lord and good Christian people. When you are ready to come back to the godly life, we will be happy to receive you. Until then, please do not darken the glorious house of our Lord.”

“We are a generous people, Sister Chetister,” Brother Roberts added condescendingly, “but in this matter you have gone too far.”

After a moment, Brother Adamson nodded his head, turned and left the house, with Brother Roberts gently guiding their silent companions to follow. Just as she reached the door, the woman turned back, tears streaming down her reddened face, to beseech Leta to heed the command of her companions so that she might return to the faith.

Then they were gone, and Julia, moving like a flash of light was standing at the closed door. She locked it with a ferocious flourish and turned to Leta.

“The nerve of some people!”

Birth of Lucille Scott, part two

"So is she faring well?" Leta asked as she and her brother Aaron bounced along in the carriage.

“The doctor thinks so,” Aaron answered.

“Then why—?”

“—Because Florence keeps asking for you. I think she’s a little scared.”

It was nearly four-thirty in the morning. A deep quiet hung in the air, but the atmosphere in the carriage that carried brother and sister to Aaron’s wife, who was in the throes of delivering her first child, was tense. The horses were zipping as fast as Aaron could drive them, and he was breathing heavily. When she realized the baby was coming, Florence first sent Aaron for the doctor and then urged him to collect her best friend—his sister Leta—to be with her. The siblings lived quite a distance, and then there was the time taken to rouse Leta, convince her husband Ralph that she was needed and return to the farmhouse. And Aaron was a temperamental type, so remaining calm and composed was a challenge for him.

Leta reached over and patted her brother on the knee, a rare gesture of affection between siblings. Aaron seemed to calm and permitted the horses to slow their pace a bit.

When they reached his door, however, he leaped out of the carriage and immediately ran to the other side to assist his sister. She was also excited and nearly out of the carriage by the time he reached her. They rushed into the house and them immediately became subdued. No sounds emanated from the bedroom, so they remained very still.

“Aaron, is that you?” the doctor called.

This was followed by a large moan from Florence, one that sent a wave of anxiety and excitement through the room.

“Yes, doctor,” Aaron called back, “and I brought my sister Leta.”

Aaron gestured for Leta to go into the bedroom.

“Leta!” Florence beckoned.

Just then the doctor appeared at the door.

“She’s very close,” he said, wiping his hands on a cloth. “The contractions are two minutes apart.” He looked at Leta. “If you are going to help, young lady, get in here.”

Even though she had given birth to her own child and had seen dozens of newborns during her 21 years, this was the first one, aside from her own daughter’s, that she had been privy to, and it was far different to assist than to go through the delivery. While the doctor provided instructions and watched for the baby, Leta held Florence’s hand, wiped her perspiring forehead and encouraged her beloved sister-in-law through the process. Just when it seemed like the strain would overtake the mother-to-be, Leta heard a flush, like water when it first hits the faucet, and then the sharp squeal of a baby. A moment later the doctor handed her a bundle, and she saw the wet, red, screaming face. She looked at the doctor, and he said, “girl.”

As the tears started to flow, Leta pulled the newborn close and whispered, “Welcome, little baby girl.”

“Lucille,” Florence croaked. Naturally, she was exhausted, but made a feeble gesture, and Leta took the newborn to her.

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron called from the doorway, and both women registered surprised. They had all but forgotten that there was a man, a father, smoking and waiting outside the door.

“I’ve got this,” the doctor said, leaving the sisters-in-law to share the good news.

Ten minutes later, Lucille was bathed and sleeping with her mother, the doctor was packing up his things, and Aaron and Leta were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping cups of freshly brewed coffee. The sun was flooding the room with light.

“Congratulations,” the doctor said.

“Thank you,” Aaron replied and saw the physician to the door. When he returned, he stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and looked at Leta. “I’m a father,” he said.

Birth of Lucille Scott, part one

Ralph was displeased. He had been sound asleep, they both had been, when the hard knocking at the door awoke them. After realizing that there actually was a need via a sharp conversation with his wife Leta, he hurriedly put on a pair of pants and stumbled through the house to the door.

“What?” he demanded irritably as he opened it. The cold autumn air whisked through him and into the house.

In the shadow he could see Leta’s older brother Aaron standing in the doorway.

“Aaron?” Leta inquired. She, too, had left the comfort of their warm bed to learn who was knocking.

“Christ, Aaron,” Ralph moaned, “it’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“The baby’s coming,” Aaron said calmly. “Flo wants Leta.”

“Is everything all right?” Leta asked with uncertainly. While it was time for Aaron’s wife Florence to deliver, the devoted sisters-in-law had lost a friend early in the summer during a complicated breach delivery.

“Come into the house,” Ralph ordered. “We’re letting all the cold air in.”

“No time,” Aaron said. “The pains are close.”

“Let me get dressed,” Leta said, as she started to return to the bedroom.

Ralph grabbed her shoulder. “Hold on,” he ordered. “You can’t just leave. It’s four in the morning.” Then he turned back to Aaron. “Get in here.”

With a gruff sigh, Aaron walked in and Ralph slammed the door closed, which almost immediately awoke Vivian, Leta and Ralph’s toddler, who began to cry.

“Shit!” Ralph growled. “Now, let’s figure this out.”

Leta had pulled away from her husband. “There’s nothing to figure out, Ralph. Florence is about to have a baby. She wants me there. I’m going.”

“But what about our baby?” Ralph demanded.

“She’s fine,” Leta answered. “Just go in there and rub her back, and she’ll go back to sleep.”

“How long are you going to be gone?” he returned.

“I don’t know, Ralph” Leta replied. “However long it takes.”

“What if she needs to have her diaper changed or gets hungry?” Ralph persisted.

“We don’t have time for this,” Aaron muttered loudly enough for both of them to hear. He was standing right at the door with one hand holding the doorknob.

As if to confirm the urgency, one of Aaron’s horses whinnied.

“Ralph,” Leta said with finality, “it will be all right” Then she turned to Aaron, “I’ll be ready in a minute.

Five minutes later, she was sitting beside him in the carriage, and Aaron was pressuring the team to go more quickly. Sensing the urgency of the situation, the horses complied, making for a bumpy ride.

To be continued.

Vivian's High School Graduation, part three

The older woman and the younger woman stood only two feet apart, but a great chasm flowed between them. Their communication had never been effusive or even relaxed, had never relied on continual chatter or even concealed animosity or disappointment, as the conversation in other mother-daughter relationships. Leta might have liked it to be so, but her daughter was far too observant and pensive to maintain an ongoing conversation, and Leta had too many secrets to be that vulnerable to a daughter’s insatiable need to live vicariously through her mother.

That Leta had betrayed her responsibility for her daughter and younger son by depositing them three years earlier on their father’s doorstep, because she could no longer take care of them adequately, clung to her shoulders like some giant vulture, ready to devour any expression of warmth or kindness. More devastating to maintaining any semblance of closeness was that after she left her children with their father, she barely stayed in contact.

In fact, mother and daughter had not spoken in over a month, not since Leta bought Vivian’s dress and gave her daughter the hat that she had made for the occasion. Leta had wanted to make a dress for Vivian, but feared they would not be able to meet frequently enough to fit it.

Leta stood before her very grown-up looking daughter, and her heart ached. Gone was the little girl who liked to watch her every move. Gone was the girl who frequently forgot to wear her glasses when she did her homework at the kitchen table. Gone was the receptive student—in the kitchen and with a needle. Gone was the clever girl who knew when to ask for assistance and when to puzzle it through. If ever Leta entertained thoughts of becoming a companion to her daughter, a friend, an advisor, this moment terminated them.

“Congratulations,” Leta said.

“Thank you, Ma,” Vivian responded, raising her eyes to meet her mother’s.

“I like what you did with the dress,” Leta added, noting the subtle flourishes Vivian had no doubt made to the garment. “Satin?”

“Yes,” Vivian answered, “Grandmother suggested it.”

Leta politely turned and nodded to Vivian’s paternal grandmother Ida, who had assumed primary caregiver responsibilities when Leta took her children to live with their father Ralph. After his divorce from Leta, he had moved back in with his parents, and still remained there, having brought his second wife Eunice into the household as well.

“Thank you for coming,” Vivian said after a short silence.

Leta looked at her inquisitively, but before she could respond, June pushed her way through the members. “Congratulations, Viv!” she cheered and aggressively hugged her older and gentler cousin.

Finally, Vivian gave up a genuine smile, and a moment later, the rest of the family chimed in with their own compliments. Upon conclusion of the jollities, as the rain clouds began to gather and a cool wind started to pick at them, the families registered the time.

“We better be going,” Ida said, “before it starts to rain.”

“So much for our picnic,” Ralph said dejectedly.

His mother gave him a brutal look, and he cowered sheepishly.

“Yes,” Leta agreed, “it is time we all head home. Congratulations again, Vivian, and I will see you for lunch next Saturday, correct?”

“Yes, Ma,” Vivian agreed.

The rain started as the divided family separated to make their way back to their automobiles. Dale waved farewell to his mother, but there were no words, no other gestures, just ducking and dodging the water droplets falling from the sky. As she got into the motorcar and they began the slow drive back to Aaron and Florence’s house in the rain, Leta simply felt alone, more alone than she had ever felt in her life. She was husbandless and childless. This aloneness was a darkness that grew inside of her and would engulf her life for a long time.