Dust Eva Everson (story reading txt) 📖

planted on her hips. “Good land of the living, what’s happened?”

“I woke up sick and then Westley …” I didn’t continue. At twenty-one months, Michelle had begun repeating my words, sometimes to my delight. Often to my chagrin. “I feel fine now though.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ro-Bay said with a knowing look toward Miss Justine as she closed the front door and Michelle reached for one of her large-hoop gold-filled earrings. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Miss Justine?”

“What are you thinking?” I asked them both.

“Auntie Flo come to see you in a while?” she asked.

“Auntie who?”

Miss Justine chuckled as she reached me. “Come on, darling. Let’s go have a talk. Rose Beth, bring us a little hot tea, will you? We’ll leave you in charge of Little Bit for a while.”

“Ain’t I always …”

Miss Justine and I walked arm in arm toward the back of the house, Michelle’s giggles becoming more distant. “Cindie’s coming into town this Friday,” I said both confidentially and quickly.

We stopped and Miss Justine looked up at me. “Oh, dear. I reckon I’d hoped … but of course not. She’s the baby’s mother.” Her face grew firm. “How did Westley take it?”

“Like you,” I answered with a grimace. “She’s …” I couldn’t say the word. I wanted to, but right then, I couldn’t.

We continued toward the sunroom. “Westley is in a tough place.” She tapped the center of her chest. “In his heart, he’d like nothing better than for you and him to be all the family that child needs. But he made a deal with Cindie and he’s trying to keep it. Can’t fault a man for being a man of his word.”

“No, and I don’t, but is this the way it will always be?”

We reached the sunroom then, its comfort and light welcoming me as it did most weekday mornings. “Until Cindie gets tired of the game and simply goes her own way … makes another life for herself … or …”

“Or she comes back and takes Michelle for good.”

“Is that what made you sick? The thought of losing that baby?”

“No, but it didn’t help any. I woke up sick.” We sat on one of the wicker sofas and I sighed. “I felt so bad when I woke up that I thought a truck had run over me during the night and left me for half dead … but I-I really do feel better now.”

Miss Justine raised her chin as Ro-Bay ambled in carrying a tea set kissed with tiny rosebuds and green leaves and all on a silver tray. Michelle waddled behind her, her Tommee Tippee cup clasped between both hands, the morning’s sun casting an angelic halo over silky blond curls. “We come up with a date yet?” Ro-Bay asked as she placed the tray on the coffee table.

“A date for what?” I asked.

“The last time Auntie Flo came to visit.” I scrunched my brow as Ro-Bay poured the tea and Michelle leaned her weight against my knee. “Honey, didn’t your mama ever teach you nothing ’bout Auntie Flo?” She handed first one cup of tea to Miss Justine and then one to me.

“Aunt Flo,” Miss Justine whispered, her tone filled with dignity. “Your period.”

“My—”

“When was the last one?”

I paused a moment. Thinking. Calculating. “I’ve been so busy with Little Bit …” I rubbed her back and she grinned at me, her clear green eyes smiling.

Ro-Bay scooped Michelle into her arms. “Y’all let me know what you work out. Me and Missy here are gon’ color a pretty picture.” She kissed Michelle’s neck and the child giggled. “Aren’t we, sweet thing?”

“Yes!” Michelle sang out.

I smiled at the child who had stolen my heart, a smile that fell when I turned back to Miss Justine. “Well?” she asked.

“Six weeks? No … eight. Yes, eight.”

“And you and Westley … what kind of birth control are you using?”

Flames ignited in my cheeks.

“Never mind. That is 100 percent none of my business.” She nodded toward my cup. “Drink up. I’m going to make a phone call … see if we can’t get you in to see Dr. Sharpe this afternoon.” She was halfway to the telephone bench that sat angled in the corner of the room.

I took a sip of tea, then set the cup and saucer back on the tray. “You don’t think …”

“Only one way to find out.” She picked up the handset and dialed a number she apparently knew by heart. “We need to see—as we used to say back in the day—if the rabbit dies or not.”

I reached again for my tea, my hand shaking. A baby … a baby of my own. Not that I didn’t love Michelle enough to call my own … but a baby … formed from the love Westley and I shared. Purely and wholly ours.

Another thought hit me … a baby … and a toddler. Not that it hadn’t been done before. Hillie … Hillie had five of her husband’s children when she gave birth a year into the marriage. Which meant that Hillie and I were nearly on the same schedule.

“We’re set,” Miss Justine said. “Two o’clock this afternoon.” She plopped down on the sofa. “Now, tell me. Have you ever had your feet in a doctor’s stirrups before?”

Chapter Twenty-three

Cindie

She stood in front of her mother, hands on her hips, fingers splayed wide. Shoulders back. Breasts jutted forward. Chin up. “What do you think, Mama?” she asked the woman who filled the occasional chair in the corner of the room. A cigarette dangled between her lips and her eyes narrowed before she took a long drag, then exhaled slowly.

“What do I think about what?”

“How do I look? I’m picking up Michelle from Westley this morning.”

“And since when do you care what I think about anything?”

Cindie’s shoulders dropped. “Come on, Mama. Don’t start this again. For the love of all that is holy, do not start this nonsense again.”

Lettie Mae pulled another drag into her lungs. Held it for a few seconds before exhaling. The