Curtis, part twenty-seven

"Ma'am?"

The voice startled Leta awake. She had only intended to sit at the kitchen table momentarily, before assessing the cleaning needs of the living room. Over the four days she had been living with her new husband Curtis and his 12 children, she had yet to devise a plan of attack on this obviously little-used and filthy room. Even she, who liked to relax with a beer and some sewing in the evening, had not had time to do so since her arrival. The other needs of the household took precedence. And by eight in the evening, she was too exhausted from the unrelenting labors of the day to sit. Instead, she collapsed into bed.

“Ma’am?” Curtis’s oldest girl said again.

“Yes, my darling?” Leta responded, standing slowly. Her body felt stiff and her arm and shoulder ached from resting her head on them.

“Mr. Wilcox is at the door,” he girl answered.

“Who?”

“Mr. Wilcox,” she repeated. “That’s the man that lives down the road a bit. He’s here for his car.”

“His car?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The girl lacked guile and deviousness, so Leta was very confused.

Mr. Wilcox was standing on the front porch. He was an older gentleman dressed in rough cotton trousers with suspenders to hold them up and a faded flannel shirt. He had obviously been spending his morning working on his own farm, for his face was smudged and his clothing dirty. He wore a large straw hat over what Leta presumed was a round bald head. He was neither fat nor skinny, but his face was blotched with red spots, and his cheeks were puffed.

“Mr. Wilcox?” she said gently.

“Ma’am,” he responded politely.

“Hello,” Leta continued as she exited the front door with the girl remaining in the doorway.

“I apologize for intruding, but I come for my auto car.”

“Yes, that’s what I heard,” Leta said.

“Curtis borried it on Friday and told me he would be bringing it back this morning,” Mr. Wilcox explained. “I wouldn’t ordinarily be so demanding, but I have need for it myself.”

“I’m afraid my husband isn’t here,” Leta shared, giving the girl a quick glance to affirm her contention. “He’s out in the fields working.”

“But, if you’ll pardon my insistence, ma’am, my automobile is right there.”

Mr. Wilcox gestured to the vehicle parked in the dirt driveway on the side of the house, the very same automobile that Curtis had been using to transport the two of them since she had first ridden in one with him.

“Pardon me?” Leta questioned. She was simply stunned, and needed a moment to collect herself.

“I’d like to take it, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Wilcox was so polite and kind that Leta could do offer no protest, and in spite of her instinct to lay claim to the vehicle, if only to secure her own dignity, she assented.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “But I don’t know where Mr. Curtis keeps the key.”

“Papa always leaves the keys in the ignition,” the girl said helpfully.

“Oh yes, then let’s see for ourselves,” Leta stammered.

Mr. Wilcox stepped aside to let her pass, and followed her through the still wet lawn, dodging a few puddles remaining from the heavy rains of the prior day, to the automobile itself. Sure enough, when Leta looked opened the door of the vehicle, she saw the keys in the ignition.

“The girl was right,” she noted. “The key’s right there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Wilcox agreed.

He was standing close, and she could smell the combination of fresh soap and hard work on him.

There was a long pause. Leta’s entire body was in turmoil. She felt deceived and betrayed yet again by her new husband. Throughout their relationship and into their marriage, she had believed that this automobile was his. To learn that he had been deceiving her the entire time weakened her feelings for him and assaulted her own judgment, not only of him, but also of, at least momentarily, everything. Nonetheless, if the automobile was his, then he had every right to claim it.

“Very well, then, Mr...,” she began.

“…Wilcox....” he interjected.

“…Wilcox,” she finished, “if the automobile is yours and you have need of it, then by all means, you must take it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Curtis,” he said graciously, seeming to understand her distress by the entire situation.”

He offered his hand for her to shake, and she took it. After shaking it, he got into the car.

“Have a good day,” he wished, as he started it up.

“Thank you,” she said. “You, too.”

As he drove away, she felt as though she was watching hope leave her forever. She followed the vehicle with her eyes as it disappeared down the road and then stood for a few more minutes too fatigued to move.

“What are you looking at?”

To be continued.