After her sister Louise left, Leta finished the cookies they
had started together. As she had not been to the grocer’s in several days, and
even when she went only purchased what she needed immediately, she was lacking
some of the usual ingredients. So she improvised.
While Leta was feeling refreshed, dread still clung to her
like Dale’s wet coat clung to him when he arrived home from school. She
stripped him right there at the front door, toweled him dry and then made him
put on fresh clothes while she set out his cookie and milk. Once he tramped
down the hall, she held the towel to the face to breathe in her son’s damp boy
smell and choked back a tear. She was his mother. He belonged with her. In
those brief five minutes, she had made up her mind on what she needed to do to
retain custody of both of her children. She pushed the dread and fear to the
back of her mind and fixated herself on the task at hand. That evening, after
the children were in bed, she would tell Al that in order to retain custody of
the children, they could not keep a moonshine still in the basement.
Over the next two hours, she occasionally questioned her
resolve, but never truly wavered. In order to stay strong, she kept herself
busy. Then Al was late. Instead of coming right home from work, he told her via
telephone, he needed to run some errands. This usually meant that he would be
hitting a blind pig with some of his work friends and then arrive home in some
state of inebriation. Although she asked him quite firmly to come home, he
stuck with his itinerary. So she ate with the children, fixed him a plate,
cleaned up the kitchen and spent a quiet evening with Dale and Vivian. She was
determined that Vivian would wear her new dress to church on Sunday, and it was
Friday evening. After Louise had left that morning, she finished the lace
collar, and all that remained was the skirt hem, which Vivian did beautifully
while Leta put Dale to bed. After a final inspection, she handed her daughter
the dress and instructed her to put it on.
“Go into my bedroom,” she said, “and then let me see how it
looks.”
“Yes, Ma,” Vivian answered. While the girl retained her
gentle and composed demeanor, Leta noted a quicker step that indicated some
excitement.
She was a little excited, too. After all, this was her
daughter’s first time sewing her own dress. The girl had just gone into the
bedroom when Al came bounding in the door.
“Leta!” he shouted, his voice reverberating like thunder. A
moment later he was standing in the living room facing her, his face flush with
drink and excitement. She had been putting the sewing materials back in the box
and stood the moment she heard his voice.
“Leta,” he said after calming himself enough to be clear,
“we got him!”
It took Leta’s brain a few seconds to catch up with him.
“Ralph?” she questioned.
“Yes, Ralph!” he exclaimed and grabbed her hands.
But she pulled them away and held them up. Then she leaned
her torso around her husband and shouted toward the bedroom door.
“Darling, give Daddy and me a few minutes before you come out,”
she called. Then she looked at her husband, gestured and mouthed, “Vivian.”
“Oh.”
He grabbed her hands and took her into the kitchen where
they could speak without their daughter’s sensitive ears picking up their
conversation. Leta still had not told Vivian or Dale about their father’s
custody claim.
Once they were in the more private location, Al lowered his
voice but maintained his intensity.
“So I was having some of the fellows from work check out
Ralph’s comings and goings, you know,” Al explained.
“Al!” Leta scolded.
“Just listen,” he instructed and then continued. “I don’t
know how a grown man without a job and living with his parents can be as
squeaky clean as Ralph appears to be. I’ve been there, Leta. Sometimes a man’s
just got to let loose, if only for his own sanity.”
“Al, I told you. I don’t want to know about your behavior
before we were married,” she protested.
“I know, I know,” he agreed, “but my own experience, and
that of a couple of my friends, tells me that in all likelihood Ralph would
have done something that might be useful to us in our custody battle.”
“So you had your friends spy on him?”
“Not exactly. We just asked around, and followed his
footsteps, so to speak.”
Then he paused for permission to continue.
“And?” she asked.
“I won’t tell you if it’s going to upset you, darling.”
“Al, you have to tell me, whether I like it or not. These
are my children we’re talking about.”
“Very irregularly, once every few weeks or so, your former
husband, gets all dressed up and heads over to 342 Vine—“
“—Three hundred forty-two Vine!” Leta exclaimed. “But that’s
a—“
“—Cathouse,” Al finished. “Yep.” He paused before continuing
to give Leta time to process the information. “I am sure that Mrs. Chetister
would be none too pleased to know what her boy was up to.”
Leta sat at the table, equally relieved and surprised.
“Well, what do you know?” she sighed and then let out a
chortle.
“A man has needs, Leta,” Al shared.
“And do you think that some of your friends would tell this
to the judge?” she inquired. “They would be putting themselves at risk.”
“Do you think he would do it?” Leta asked. “Wouldn’t he have
to just arrest everyone there?”
“Leta, darling, that’s not how it works,” Al said.
“Certainly, the police are supposed to stop everyone from doing bad, but there
are so many people out there doing something they shouldn’t and really not
harming anyone that they need to pick and choose. We’ll just explain to him the
situation.”
“He is fond of Dale,” Leta noted.
“And you cooked for them when his wife was sick,” Al added.
“But that was nothing. She’d do the same for us.”
“Precisely.”
Leta started to smile. She could feel the surge of
hopefulness strengthen and grow as it coursed through her body.
“So it’s a plan then?” Al asked.
“Let’s first talk to Ralph,” she said.
Ralph folded almost immediately, and on September 22, he
withdrew his petition for custody.
But the possibility of Ralph renewing his claim persisted,
as long as they had the still in the basement. And Leta’s children were growing
and changing, particularly Vivian.
End of story.
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