“Otis, honey, it’s getting on late. Save some stories for another time.”
He went deep red, and started sulking. Rae Lynn worried Cornelia would be made to pay. Sure enough, she wore her dress with the long sleeves the next day, even as the temperatures rose close to a hundred.
Rae Lynn pointed and said, “Nellie, did he . . .”
Cornelia cut her right off and said, “I meant to tell you yesterday, we got to get some canned goods out on the shelves over to the commissary.”
Rae Lynn let it go. That evening Otis had made a snide comment about Cornelia’s appearance.
“Damn, woman. You looking about as wore-out as a old flat tire.”
He slammed a palm on the table and belted out a laugh that was more like a bark. Rae Lynn actually saw Cornelia’s shoulders sag as if the very weight of him sat entirely on her.
She said, “Yes, honey.”
Otis mimicked her. “Yes, honey. You’re pathetic.”
He went back to shoveling his food in, while Rae Lynn wanted to slap him. She didn’t know how Cornelia stood it.
The next morning when Cornelia came from their room, walking with difficulty and wearing a blue bracelet of bruises on her wrists, anger shot through Rae Lynn, but she stayed calm.
Her voice troubled, she said, “Nellie.”
Cornelia said, “It ain’t nothing. Don’t you say a word, now, Rae Lynn!”
Rae Lynn raised her hands in the air, concerned. “But, he shouldn’t treat you like he does.”
Minutes later, Otis came into the kitchen hiking up his pants with a self-satisfied, smug look. The fear on Cornelia’s face kept Rae Lynn quiet. All day, Cornelia was subdued. Midday she dropped into a chair and rested her head on her arms.
“I’m so tired, but I got to do them sheets.”
Rae Lynn’s mouth dropped. “Again?”
Cornelia didn’t look at her.
Rae Lynn said, “I can help if you want. It ain’t no problem atall. I got most everything else done for right now.”
Cornelia kept her head on her arms. “It’s all right. I just need a minute.”
Rae Lynn was worried for her. Cornelia had always been careful about her looks, but she hadn’t washed her hair in some time, and the dark curls capping her head, typically glossy, lay lackluster over her arm as if they too were too exhausted to shine.
Rae Lynn touched her again, on the arm, and said, “Why’re you having to wash them so many times in a week? Are you okay? Are you not well?”
Cornelia raised her head. She stared toward the bedroom first, then turned to the window where the commissary building could be seen. She got up and went to the front of the house and stood half inside the doorway, half out, staring toward where Otis ought to be busy working. Experience had shown, like a summer storm, he might appear unexpectedly and bring thunderous yelling along with lightning flashes of temper. Rae Lynn observed how cautious she was, and understood. Living with Otis Riddle meant always being watchful for his storms.
Cornelia came back to the kitchen and said, “I’ll show you why I wash them sheets all the time, but we got to hurry. He’ll be here any minute looking something to eat.”
Rae Lynn followed as Cornelia led her to the main bedroom, where she pointed at the bed, her arm trembling, whether with weariness or anger, Rae Lynn wasn’t sure. The window was open, but an odor hung in the room like Cornelia hadn’t emptied the chamber pot.
“Look a there. This is why I’m always washing them sheets.”
The bed sat against a wall, hidden in the shadows. She could see the sheets were rumpled, but not much else.
Cornelia pulled her closer to the bed and said, “There. Right there.”
Rae Lynn could now see the large wet spot, yellowed at the edges where it was starting to dry.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Nellie. I imagine something could be done if you was to see a doctor.”
Cornelia put a hand over her mouth, smothering her amusement. “No, no, it ain’t me. It’s Otis. He’s the one wets the bed. First time it happened, he tried to say it was me who done it. I pointed out it was his drawers that was wet, not mine. That was the first time he hit me. Now, when it happens, he goes on a tirade, takes it out on me like it’s my fault. It’s getting to where I dread going to bed. I can’t sleep, waiting for it to happen, knowing how he’s gonna get the next day.”
Rae Lynn said, “Gosh, Nellie. No wonder you’re bone tired.”
The screen door gave a rusty screech, and Otis yelled, “Where you at?”
It was as if the air got sucked right out of the room. There they both were, and him already in the house and no way to get back to the kitchen without being seen. There’d be hell to pay, and the fear blooming on Cornelia’s face once again reminded Rae Lynn of the kind a man Otis Riddle was. She gripped Rae Lynn’s arms, her fingernails digging in.
She whispered, “Wait here, behind the door. Don’t make a sound. Let me fix him his dinner and while I’m doing that, see if you can’t sneak out somehow.”
Cornelia’s distress at being caught set Rae Lynn’s own stomach to churning. It was senseless to be so afraid of one’s own husband. Cornelia had certainly drawn the short straw marrying him.
They heard splashing at the kitchen sink, then Otis bellowed, “Cornelia! Where you at!”
Cornelia rushed from the room using a light singsong tone as she replied, “Right here, honey. I was just straightening the bedroom.”
“Where’s my dinner? Why ain’t it on the table? It’s twelve o’clock!”
“It’s coming. I got it all ready.”
Rae Lynn peeked and had to draw back quickly. He sat facing the bedroom door. There was no way she’d be able to sneak out without him seeing her. Without another thought, she stuck one leg through the open window and straddled the edge. Holding on to the raised window sash, she brought her other leg through and dropped to the ground. The garden was right there, and she picked a couple of ripe tomatoes. As she went in the back screen door she let it slam good and hard. Cornelia was at the stove, spooning black-eyed peas onto Otis’s plate, and she jumped.
Rae Lynn said, “Here you go,” as if she’d been asked to pick the tomatoes.
The terror in Cornelia’s eyes melted away to relief. “Oh, thank you. Nothing better’n fresh tomatoes with peas. Otis, honey, would you want some?”
Otis, none the wiser, waved his fork in a grand manner.
The women’s eyes met over his head, and Cornelia mouthed, Thank you.
Over the next couple of days things went on like they normally did in the Riddle household, with her and Cornelia working sunup to sundown at the commissary, keeping meals on the table, cleaning, and canning what they were getting out of the kitchen garden, their bit of funning forgotten under the harsh glare of Otis’s watchful eyes. Saturday afternoon they were in the kitchen, and despite the fact the day was sweltering, they were busy canning tomatoes and beans, while enjoying a rare moment of peace because Otis had gone to get supplies to restock the store. They’d talked this and that, but mostly, they worked in the quiet, side by side, until someone knocked on the front door.
Cornelia glanced at Rae Lynn, frowning, and said, “Wonder who it could be? Might be Del Reese. He ain’t been around lately.”
Rae Lynn said, “Want me to get it?”
Cornelia was about to lift some jars from the pot of boiling water and said, “Would you?”
Rae Lynn wiped her hands on the front of her apron, smoothed her hair back off her forehead before going to the door. She stopped short, immediately crossed her arms at the sight of Crow staring at her through the screen. In the heat of the day came an uncommon chill, as if he’d blocked the sun.
He said, “I come to see what the real Cobb looks like.”
Rae Lynn managed to keep her voice steady. “Well, you seen me. What do you want?”
Cornelia had come to stand behind her, and she felt better with her there.
Cornelia said, “Mr. Sweeney, what can we do for you?”
“Considering what I recollect, I don’t see much difference than the scrawny boy you was playing, if you ask me.”