Curtis, part twenty-eight

Perhaps she had stood in the front yard too long. Perhaps she was too tired to move. Perhaps she had looked to wistfully at the departing automobile as it disappeared down the road. Whatever held her in place for those few minutes, she had not heard her husband come up behind her or realized that he had been watching her. She jumped when he spoke.

“Curtis,” she gasped, holding her hand to her breast, “you startled me.”

Her husband was glaring at her in a way she had not yet experienced.

“I said, what are you looking at?” he repeated, scowling at her with his arms folded.

“That was Mr. Wilcox,” she answered. “He came for his car.”

“And why, pray tell, were you staring after him like that?”

“Curtis,” she said defensively, “I didn’t even know that was his car. I thought it was yours. Do you know how embarrassed I felt when he showed up here like that?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Curtis persisted, becoming angrier by the minute.

“What question?” she responded.

“Why you were staring after him like that?”

“Like what?” she answered, incredulously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You are my wife now, Leta,” he stated firmly. “I won’t have you staring after Wilcox or any other man. If I so much as catch you looking in the direction of his house, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand me?”

Leta was flabbergasted. She simply stood where she was and stared at her suddenly ferocious husband. Somehow he had grown in stature over the past several minutes and seemed to her to be like a rabid animal ready to pounce.

“Curtis,” she stammered, “I assure you that I have no interest—“

“Enough said,” he interrupted. “Now get back in the house.”

He glared at her as she made her way back into the house, and although she felt no amours or any other kind of feelings for Mr. Wilcox, for a fleeting moment, she considered how life might be more pleasant with their neighbor than her glowering and threatening husband.

As she, the girl and the two little ones harvested more vegetables from the neglected garden, she realized that in the turmoil over Mr. Wilcox, she had been unable to question her husband about the automobile. If the vehicle did not belong to them, then all they had to transport themselves to the market or anywhere else was a rusted truck that spewed smoke every time it started, idled and was turned off.

However, she barely saw her husband over the rest of the day. Late in the afternoon, three of the boys brought her seven squirrel carcasses that she was to prepare for supper, and with the girl’s help, she cleaned and prepared them. Individually, the creatures did not hold enough meat on their bones to justify serving each one separately, so she breaded them, browned them, and then stewed them with onions, carrots and black pepper.

As far as she was concerned, she could not use enough pepper to drown the unpleasant taste of the animal. Throughout the meal, Curtis continued to express his displeasure at her imagined indiscretion, and she was far from hungry. She had one piece of bread and butter. After the meal, she gave the children strict instructions to clear the table and wash the dishes, and then dragged her exhausted body up the stairs and into bed.

Later that night, Curtis arrived and crawled on top of her.

To be continued.