The Weight of Blood

CHAPTER 29

 

 

 

 

GABBY

 

 

Lila kept saying she didn’t need a baby shower, but Gabby knew for a fact there wasn’t a single damn thing in that baby’s room, and Carl was working like a dog trying to save up money. It was already January, and Lila was nearly seven months along, so Gabby told her there’d be a shower whether she liked it or not, and she’d have to sit there and open gifts and let people rub her belly. The problem was, Gabby didn’t know who to invite, because Lila didn’t get out much, and since most folks didn’t know her, they naturally saw her in a bad light. Half the town was caught up in witch gossip, whispering some nonsense about her and Joe Bill Sump. So it wasn’t easy to come up with a guest list. There were Birdie and Ransome, of course. Birdie said she’d talk to the ladies at First Baptist and come up with something. There was no way Gabby could back out on the shower after pushing Lila into it, so she vowed that even if only the two of them showed up, they’d have a good time.

 

She’d been to only one baby shower, for her friend Darla who got pregnant junior year, so Gabby was basing everything on what she remembered from that. They’d need sherbet punch, cake with frilly icing, and some dumb games—but not drinking games, like at Darla’s shower. She knew Birdie and Ransome and Lila wouldn’t want to drink, but the more she thought about the shower, the more she wanted a drink, so she had one, and another, and then Duane, the guy she was seeing, came by and they messed around for a while. He always kept his eyes closed, and Gabby couldn’t tell if he was thinking of her or imagining someone else. When he came, he reminded her of a soldier, grunting, thrusting his bayonet in the enemy. In world history, one of the few classes she’d stayed awake for, men killed their enemies and raped their enemies’ women. She wondered why men fucked what they hated and fucked what they loved and fucked what they didn’t give a fuck about. Maybe they wanted to fuck everything, nothing to do with the way they felt, just an uncontrollable urge. Thrust, grunt, conquer.

 

When Duane finished, he pulled his pants back on and asked her to loan him some cash. For once she said no. She was saving to buy something nice for Lila, for the shower. She didn’t know what, because Lila needed everything, but it would be something good. Bitch, Duane muttered before the camper door slammed. Gabby curled up on the wet sheets and pretended she didn’t want him to come back. She would pretend hard enough to make it true.

 

 

The day of the shower, Gabby went over to Birdie’s early to decorate. She had pink and blue crepe paper, even though Lila kept saying she was having a girl, because Gabby knew it was never a good idea to get your heart set on something that might not work out. Birdie had made the sheet cake and had it sitting out on the sideboard, still in the pan. She’d done it up in plain white without any sort of sprinkles or frosting flowers or anything. It looked like the sort of cake you’d get to celebrate joining a convent.

 

“You got any sprinkles?” Gabby asked. “Colored sugar, something?”

 

Birdie frowned. She was wearing a stiff black dress, to carry on the convent theme, Gabby guessed. “What for?”

 

“Nothing. Never mind.” Birdie fussed with the punch bowl and cups while Gabby twisted the crepe paper and taped it across the front of the sideboard. Two gifts sat next to the cake, one from Birdie and one, in a green paper bag, from Ransome Crowley. “Ransome’s not coming?” Gabby asked.

 

Birdie shook her head. “No, she dropped that by yesterday. That woman is plum wore out. Didn’t feel up to the festivities.”

 

Festivities? A few people eating cake in a deathly quiet house? Gabby wanted to drive over to the farm and drag Ransome’s bony ass to the party. Not like she’d liven things up, but at least Lila knew her. They heard somebody pull up outside, and Birdie hurried to the door to see if it was her church friends. Gabby’s pathetic attempt at decorating was all done, so she followed her.

 

Ray Walker’s truck sat in the driveway, and he was in the back untying a bentwood rocking chair. “Hello, there,” he said, stepping down from the tailgate. He wore a crisp button-down shirt like he did every single day of his life—probably slept in one, too. “I apologize for arriving unexpected,” he said, his voice warm and smooth, like good bourbon. “But I heard about the shower, and I wanted to bring something.” The first party crasher. Gabby could only hope there’d be more. “If I can just take this inside, I’ll be on my way.”

 

“That’d be fine,” Birdie said.

 

“Let me help,” Gabby said, hopping into the bed of the truck before he could stop her. They got the chair lowered to the ground and carried it up to the house. “This is some chair,” she said as they set it down in Birdie’s front room.

 

He rubbed his hand over the polished armrest. “I wanted her to have something nice. A keepsake.” Red splotches spread across his face, and Gabby realized he was blushing. Even the civilized Mr. Walker had a hard-on for Lila. Gabby wasn’t going to let that love go to waste.

 

Birdie was still out front, sweeping the walkway of dirt that only she could see. “Come here,” Gabby said, dragging Ray by his shirt cuff. “We need some help.” She gestured at the cake, the limp streamers. “It’s depressing. We need sprinkles. Flowers. Balloons. Anything.”

 

He cleared his throat. “I suppose I could run into town. Pick up a few things.”

 

“Great,” she said. “And you have to stay for the shower. We need bodies in here. Bring your wife, too, if she wants to come.” Gabby knew that Mrs. Walker was infertile and either avoided baby showers or cried her way through them, but now that Ray was coming, it felt rude not to invite her.

 

The church ladies arrived while Ray was gone. There were five of them, all with identical old-lady haircuts. One brought a tray of sugar cookies that fit right in with the rest of the bland display. At least the gift table was filling up a bit, though one of the ladies had the nerve to wrap her gift in newspaper. The women all stood in the kitchen with Birdie, talking about some churchy thing or another, shooting Gabby bitchy looks through the doorway.

 

Ray came back alone, loaded down with goodies. He’d brought a package of sugar roses and tubes of colored icing for the cake, a fruit tray and a deli tray from Ralls’, and a rainbow of helium balloons tied with ribbon.

 

“Nice work, Ray,” Gabby said, making him blush again. There was something handsome about him, something sexy behind that button-down shirt, and she wondered briefly what he was like in bed.

 

When Lila and Carl showed up, Lila went on about how great everything looked, giving Gabby a huge tearful hug. Lila hugged Birdie, too, which horrified the church ladies. They clutched their punch cups in front of them with both hands, lest she try to hug them, too. Gabby didn’t know how Birdie had talked them into coming but guessed one or two had shown up just to lay eyes on the witch of Toad Holler Road. Ray stared at Lila with a reserved smile, taking his eyes off her long enough to shake hands with Carl. The way he looked at Lila wasn’t pure lust—Gabby recognized that well enough—there was something more to it, though she wasn’t sure what. She fetched Lila some punch and a plate of food and got her situated in the bentwood rocker.

 

“Attention, everyone,” Gabby said, clanging a fork on her cup. “It’s time for a few games, and then we’ll get to the presents and cake.” Birdie herded the ladies into the front room, and everyone found a place to sit on the sofa, recliner, or folding chairs. The small room was pretty well filled up, and despite the crabby expressions on a couple of ladies’ faces, the shower was starting to feel festive, just as Gabby had wanted it to be. She handed out pens and strips of paper. Crete slipped in the front door just as she was about to explain the rules. She hadn’t invited him, but the more, the merrier. “Hey, look, it’s the uncle-to-be,” Gabby said. He rolled his eyes at her and took a spot standing in the corner, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

 

Gabby went on, “Okay, write down what you think the baby will be—boy or girl—and what day you think it’ll be born. Whoever gets closest to being right’ll win a prize.” She was hoping everybody would forget about the prize by the time the baby came, because she didn’t have any prizes. She collected all the scraps of paper in an envelope and handed it to Lila. “Why don’t you read ’em out loud?” she said.

 

That would kill some time, if they were lucky, because she had only one other game.

 

Lila didn’t look right. Her hand shook as she held up the little pieces of paper. Half the guesses had the baby coming way after the due date—the old ladies trying to scare her, most likely. When she got to the last one, she opened her mouth to read but then quickly folded the paper in her palm and slid her hand down into her pocket. Gabby waited a minute, but Lila just sat there staring at her lap, so she went on to the next game. She’d have to ask Lila about it later.

 

“For this one, we need a roll of toilet paper. You’re gonna tear off as much as you think’ll fit around Lila’s belly. Then you have to wrap it around her, and we’ll see who gets closest.”

 

The old ladies looked embarrassed to be holding toilet paper in public and were unwinding the roll so slow that Gabby couldn’t stand to watch. She glanced over at Lila, who’d all but turned to stone. Carl had gone to the kitchen for more punch. Gabby walked over and nudged Lila’s foot, and she about jumped out of the chair. “You okay?” Lila nodded unconvincingly. “Sorry these games are kinda dumb,” Gabby said. “We’ll be done in a minute.”

 

Lila stood in the center of the room while everybody took turns wrapping toilet paper around her. Ray went first, and from the warm smile that brightened his face when he touched her belly, Gabby could see what she’d missed before. He wanted Lila, all right, but in a different way than the rest of the jerks in Henbane. Ray and his wife were wrecked over not being able to have kids. He spoiled that niece of his, Janessa, like she was his own child, but she’d left town a few years back and never even came to visit. So poor Ray must have been thrilled when a pretty orphan like Lila showed up. In his head, he’d probably already adopted her.

 

Crete and Carl were too manly to take part in the game, and one of the church ladies won. She asked what her prize was, and her face turned all sour when Gabby said, “Bragging rights.” Birdie served cake, and Gabby carried the presents in and set them next to Lila’s chair. Lila opened Ransome’s first. It was a baby quilt made of what looked like old shirts. Lila ran her hands over the squares of plaids and florals, staring hard like she recognized the fabric. The quilt was backed with a soft flannel teddy-bear print. Lila folded it so the bear side showed and stuffed it back in the bag.

 

It turned out the church ladies had sewn matching pieces for the nursery: a crib skirt and bumper, curtains, pillow shams, and a diaper-changing pad. Birdie had made a rag rug for the floor and a cloth doll with an embroidered face and yarn hair. Lila couldn’t talk, she just sat there with tears running down her face, so Gabby went over and hugged every one of those old ladies hard enough to crack their brittle ribs, because it was such a nice thing they’d done, even if Birdie had made them do it.

 

Next Gabby announced that the chair Lila was sitting in was a gift from Ray, and he hugged Lila and brushed at her tears, but they just kept coming. Finally, with Ray’s help, Gabby brought in her own gift, a crib from the secondhand store that she’d cleaned and painted white. Lila kept saying it was too much, too much, but Gabby knew it was just right. She looked around for Crete, but he was gone and hadn’t left a gift. Carl and Ray loaded everything into Carl’s truck while the rest of them sat around eating. Gabby didn’t get a chance to talk to Lila in private about the unread scrap of paper, and after a while she forgot about it. She was feeling good, a little high, even, that she’d pulled off the party. She, a piece of slut trash from the holler, had hosted a successful shower. Even Birdie looked at her with newfound respect.