Leta lay in bed. Beside her, Curtis was snoring, but his man
sounds didn’t disturb her. Her former husband Ora talked in his sleep. What was
keeping her mind active, even though her body ached for rest, was his notion
that she knew how to smoke and can a hog. Up until now, her husband had not
requested of her anything that she could not do, but her farm-wife skills were
limited. As a girl, she assisted her mother and aunts when they made preserves
or canned vegetables and fruits, but she had never canned these items on her
own, let alone meat.
And how was she going to prepare enough food on a daily basis
for a family of twelve children, and when would she be able to clean the living
room, even though none of them had the time to use it. She had married into a
large, disorderly situation, and the needs of the large brood were overwhelming
her mind. How was she going to ensure
that they all bathed?
At least, she sighed to herself, she had clean sheets to sleep
in. And, after all, tomorrow was another day.
Except they woke to rain. A windblown rain that forced a
dampness into the decrepit farmhouse. And Leta heard the drip. It was dark, she
was confused about her location, and then she had to listen closely for the
location of the drip. It was a muffled sound, unlike one that she would have
heard on the floor or dresser. The room was so dark that she couldn’t see at
all, so she rose and lit the lamp her husband had hung on a hook near their
bed. The drip was steady; she could hear it even with the volume of the wind
and outside patter. A draft caught her by surprise, and she shivered outside of
the warmth of the bed.
“Dammit,” she snapped. The drip was landing on the pile of
clothes in her opened suitcase on the floor in the corner. She set the lamp
onto the floor and quickly moved her suitcase out of the way of the drip.
Everything was wet, and she regretted not fully unpacking it previously. But
she had wanted to clean out the dresser before putting her clean clothes in it.
Now she would have to wash them all.
With the cushion that her clothes provided moved out of the
way, the leaks splattered loudly onto the floor. Leta grabbed the empty wash basin
on the nightstand and and used it to capture the unwelcome water. The drip
turned into a ping, as the water hit the china.
Guided by the lamp, she left her room and instinctively
checked on the girls. When she stepped on a cold, wet spot,
she stifled a shriek. Taking a closer look, she could see that a puddle
extended from the doorway into their room. She reached for the door handle and
opened it. As far as she could tell, the puddle extended from a corner of the
room, where the water was trickling down the wall, forming a kind of river to
the lowest geographic point.
She lifted the light to see if there was something she could
use to sop up the water, at least a little. Then she saw how small the room
was. There were hooks on the wall for dresses, a trunk, a small table and chair
and two small beds which each contained a bundle of children. The room was
cool, damp and smelled faintly of urine
A little pang struck her heart. She and the oldest girl would
definitely clean this room before the end of day, she decided. No children should
live like this, and definitely not those under her care.
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