Winter 1945
Airing out her secret to her mama and sister had given her mind license to let its other private thoughts roam. Her doubt, it turned out, was almost as strong as her faith. In most ways she trusted Renard. When she thought about him a certain way, she could be sure he would muster the strength or nerve or whatever it took someone to do the right thing. But these were difficult circumstances, and when she thought about it that way, she’d remember how he’d collapsed when it was time for him to meet her father; and later, how when he told her he was going to war, everything she’d thought he was made of flew out of him, and she was left with a shell of a man. Not to mention, she’d never met anyone from his family. He could be of any constitution, and she’d have no idea. It was easy to pretend to be good when you were courting someone, and everything rode on their quick opinion of you, but when you had secured their love, and there was nothing left to fight for, it was the rare man who was in constant war with his own sense of himself.
Her mama tried to distract her with baby bonnets and receiving blankets.
“You had colic the first year, so you better expect the same from her.”
“Mother, don’t be so negative,” Ruby would shout.
“I’m not saying it’s destined; sometimes it skips a generation, but I just want you to be ready in case.”
Mama had opinions about how long Evelyn should stay in the bathtub, how much pork she could eat, what her relentless heartburn meant. Mama sewed a season’s worth of baby clothes and knitted booties; she bought beef broth from the outdoor market and mixed it in Evelyn’s grits; she forbade her from attending Miss Georgia’s son’s funeral although Evelyn wouldn’t have considered it anyway—she barely left the house save for the walks her mama mandated in the evenings. Most of the time, Evelyn just succumbed to Mama’s whims without a word. The one thing they agreed on with enthusiasm was that Evelyn was carrying a girl.
“I had a dream,” her mama announced one morning. “The girl was a beautiful shade of brown, one I hoped would show up in one of my own children, but—” she shook her head. “A head full of hair, that’s why your indigestion has been paining you so. She was a perfect angel, just as beautiful as you were when you were born.”
Evelyn, for one of the first few times since her confession, felt her own joy pulsing inside her.
“I thought it was a girl, too,” she said.
“No thought about it,” her mama repeated. “Women make themselves sick to have a boy first, but the truth is,” and she lowered her voice to a whisper, “when I’m old and feeble, Brother will be off with his wife and his new family. You and Ruby will be the ones to see after me.” She shrugged. “Sons are nice in the beginning, a boy who might never leave you, but once they hit fifteen, it’s the girls you can count on.”
It was like her parents were one body, and her mama had usurped all the happiness there was between them. Mama confirmed that she relayed the information to her father, but otherwise Evelyn wouldn’t have known he knew. Just as he didn’t look in her direction before, he didn’t now. He stopped talking to her and touching her too, but the piece she missed most was the looking. They had shared so much through glances, apologetic eye gestures when Mama made a negative comment, or shining eyes when a shared joke between them cemented their love. Often when she heard him creaking through the house, she longed to go to him, apologize, assure him that she had made a mistake, but she could rectify it. All wasn’t lost. Maybe he would echo the same sentiments back to her, but he didn’t linger inside long, and before he’d leave, she’d lose her nerve.
On one of the few days she didn’t make it out to the mailbox with Brother, Brother came back in with a letter. It was only the third one she’d received from Renard, the one before it stating more of the same as the first, a little less upbeat but only in tone, and when Evelyn thought back on the words that she memorized, she actually couldn’t find any that made a difference.
She brought this one back to her room, her heart racing from walking faster than she had in weeks. She sat on the bed, fingering the envelope for a long while, holding the actual paper up to her nose and searching for a scent that she could link to Renard. There was none. Finally she splayed the paper out. Three pages, all in blue careful ink, his handwriting better than her own. She skimmed the letter first, drifting again to the last page, but she couldn’t find anything that her mind could grasp.
Finally she started at the beginning.
Dear Evelyn,
I am coming home. I can scarcely believe it. I’m afraid to. But I’ve been granted a convenience of the government discharge and I’ll be back on the 21st of January. I have missed you more than I can say, and every day that gets closer to reuniting me with you is one I want to toss away, throw back at God, say “here take it.” I didn’t want to scare you, but it has not been as great as I’ve let on. Still it’s over now. And in a few short weeks, we can be together and put it all behind us.
She felt a tightening in the bottom of her stomach. She’d been having early contractions all week, but Mama said not to worry, it didn’t mean it was time. She didn’t cry out or even grimace. She sat down and rubbed her belly.
Ruby walked in and called out to her, but when Evelyn didn’t respond, Ruby ripped the note out of her hand. She didn’t need to read the whole thing to grasp the gist.
“Oh,” she said, dropping the letter, then peeling down her slip and unzipping her girdle on one side. “Well, that’s good then.” Ruby forgot to smile though. “That’s real good. Mama will be real pleased. Daddy too, if he’d admit it. You’ll have your little family, sister.” She paused. “I’m happy for you.”
She went on talking, her words pouring out like an avalanche.
“I’m not having any children. I thought I might with Andrew when I first met him, but what if he got called off again? Then what? I’d be by myself taking care of something he had half the mind to make. I don’t think so. Wouldn’t be me.
“Don’t even make me mention what it does to your body. Have you ever looked at Mama’s stomach when she takes off her nightgown? Woo, I wouldn’t want to be Daddy or even a fly in the room. So many stretch marks sliding across that belly you’d think it was a railroad station. No, ma’am, not me. Mama’s an old lady, Daddy’s probably not even interested in that anymore, but I’m young, I’ve got to maintain what the good Lord has given me.”
She rubbed her hands over her body and let out a sharp laugh.
“Anyway, all children do is tie you down. Maybe I might travel the world the way you used to say you would. No chance of that happening anymore. Maybe I’ll take the money Mama and Daddy saved, go off to Boston University. They might accept me. They might.”