Leech Hoose, part twelve

All had gone so well in October, when Leta and her children Vivian and Dale celebrated her fiance Leech Hoose’s birthday, that Leta was confident that adding Leech to her family, moving her children into his home and setting up house would be a smooth and easy transition.

On their first evening as a family, however, only two days after she and Leech married and the first night that the four of them were together for a meal, hostility and uncertainty floated in the air. She had merely been attempting light conversation, but her new husband ferociously told her to stop.

They continued their meal in silence. Leech finished first and rose.

“I will be back,” he said.

He left the kitchen. Leta and her children listened to him retrieve his coat and hat. As the temperature had dropped significantly that evening, Leta almost reminded him to wear his scarf, but thought better of it and refrained. A few moments later the front door opened and closed. Leta was relieved he did not slam the door. But she was perplexed by his hostility. The children were watching her.

“Now,” she said after a few more moments, “finish your supper. You have some unpacking to do and then bed. Have you done your homework?”

“Yes, Ma,” Vivian said. Both finished eating, more picking at their meal than enjoying it. As for Leta, she sipped her coffee quietly.

She had been drinking coffee much of the day, with cream. She liked cream, but forfeited it as a luxury when she and her children suffered hard times.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Ma?” Dale asked as he finished his meal.

“No my darling,” she answered. “I’m not very hungry.”

“May I have your chicken?”

“Of course,” she said, lifting her plate. “Do you want the beans, too?”

“I’ll take them,” Vivian offered.

She served her son the chicken and her daughter the beans. Then she stood with the empty plate. She watched her children eat for a moment. They both looked thin.

“I also want you to each have another piece of bread and butter before you get up from the table.”

Vivian looked up quizzically.

“You’re looking a little thin,” Leta explained.

“I’m really hungry,” Dale said as he reached for the bread.

Leech returned to the house two hours later. Dale had just gone to bed. Leta and Vivian were sitting in the living room. Upon his arrival, Vivian put down the book she was reading and started to leave the room.

“Good evening, ladies,” Leech said with a smile. “May I join you? What are you reading, my dear?”

He reached for Vivian’s book, and she handed it to him. “Dickens?”

“It’s for my literature class,” Vivian said.

“Great Expectations. Do you like it?”

“Yes, pretty much. Last year we read Oliver Twist, and I liked that one much better.”

“He’s a foreigner, isn’t he? Dickens?” Leech questioned.

“English,” Vivian explained.

“Don’t know why they don’t teach American writers,” Leech said with some disappointment. “These hoity toity Britishers put false ideas into young people’s heads. They have a class system over there, you know. We fought a revolution to keep our money here, and now schools is buying books that support them.”

“He’s a good writer,” Vivian offered weakly.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, carry on,” he concluded with a wave of his hand. Vivian left the room.

Leech plopped down beside Leta, gently pressing against her.

“How are you this evening, wife?” he inquired, planting a kiss on her cheek before she could deflect him. He wrapped one arm around her and squeezed. As her hands were in her lap holding one of Dale’s hand-me-down shirts she was altering to fit his smaller frame, his embrace compressed and trapped her.

“Fine,” she said insecurely. “How are you?”

“Very fine,” he answered with a smile and pressed into her even more.

“Did you have a good evening?” he inquired.

“Yes,” she answered. “After supper, the children and I had a quiet time here.”

“Did they finish unpacking?”

“Mostly,” she answered. “What we brought this afternoon. My brother-in-law Hiram will bring the rest tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said. “I want them to think of this as their home.”

An unexpected warmth rushed through Leta, and without realizing it, she pressed into her husband a little bit.

“And how was your evening?” she asked.

“Just fine,” he said.

“Are you hungry?” she continued. “Can I get you anything?”

“I am hungry,” he said. “Do you have any of that pie left?”

“Why, yes, of course,” she said, pulling herself away from him. “Would you like some coffee to go with it?”

“That sounds excellent.”

He followed her into the kitchen where poured both of them a cup of coffee. Then she cut him a slice of pie. After she put the plate in front of him, she went to the icebox.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting cream for my coffee,” she answered.

“Hold off on that a second and try it without.”

“I like cream in my coffee,” she explained.

“Of course, you do, but I want you to first try it the way it is,” he encouraged. “I—let’s just say I doctored it up a bit.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“All right, but I’m not sure I like this.”

She sipped the coffee, and her face brightened. He had added some alcohol. It was an unfamiliar taste to her.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed. “What is it?”

“Irish coffee,” he said with a smile.

“You got Irish…?” she started.

“…Whiskey,” he smiled. “Yepper. “One of the guys at work brought it back from his visit to the old country.”

Then he produced a flask from his pocket.

“It’s not much, but it sure is tasty.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed, taking another sip.

A pleasant conversation followed, and a short time later they went to bed.

Concluded…for now.