Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

stumbled out the words. “Of course, I can work.”
    “You’re a Thornton woman. Fedora has lots of help. Even Wiley George got Hettie for Tillie. It ain’t right that you don’t have help after all these years.” He bobbed his head.
    “Fedora needs all the help she can get, and Hettie’s wet-nursin’ Tillie’s baby until my niece can get the hang of it.” In her confusion, she put a half smile on her face. “Wiley George can’t afford to keep a real hired girl.”
    “I wouldn’t be much of a man if I couldn’t give you what you should have, now would I?”
    “That’s not the way of it,” Eula managed.
    “I’m gonna set you down.”
    “Alex, I’m not near ’bout worn out yet.” Was that what he thought of her after their astonishing night? That she was too old and too broken down to do what a good wife ought? That she needed help?
    “I ain’t gonna let you get worn out, Eula. I’m gonna get you a hired girl.” Alex couldn’t have sounded more jubilant.
    “A hired girl?” She couldn’t remember who let go first, but her rough hands were suddenly free. “I don’t need no hired girl.”
    Alex moved back to the rocker. “Of course you do. She’ll do a lot of the heavy work around here. She’s a strong woman.” He laid a hand on the cradle and set it into gentle motion.
    “Nooo.” Eula felt her stomach sway in time to the old baby crib. He knew how she hated to look upon it.
    “Best part about the hired woman is that she’s comin’ with company.” He ignored her cry as he gave the cradle another gentle push. He laid the baby doll in it. “I know it’s been hard on you all these years since you lost the baby.”
    “Please, Alex, put it back,” she whispered as she turned her eyes away.
    “It took me hard, too…the loss…God’s will, I said. Best not to dwell on it.” He left the cradle and walked back to her. “But that ain’t helped much. I still felt mostly like I was missin’ something. A baby will put life back into the both of us.” He stood there looking down on her as though every word he said didn’t feel like he was slicing the skin right off her bones.
    “I can’t talk about no baby.” The tears were on the verge of falling, but Eula knew her husband would never tolerate them. She blinked them back.
    “The hired woman will be here in a few days and she’s bringin’ a baby with her.” He grinned at her.
    Eula swallowed her spit so many times she was sure it would dry up in her throat before she could get the words out.
    “Baby? What baby?” Missing preserves, disappeared hams, lost nights, her silver-trimmed wedding bowl, all popped out of their hiding places and marched before her eyes. She knew the answer.
    “Looks like I’ve got to let out the mid-forty to some new tenants.” His eyes didn’t meet hers.
    “The mid-forty?” Her voice croaked.
    “Yeah. The new hired man’s family is movin’ in. The other one…the woman on the mid-forty…she’ll make a very good hired girl for this place.” His eyes slid back to the cradle.
    “The…the woman on the mid-forty…” The words coming out of her mouth belonged to another voice. “Her name. What is the name?” If Alex could speak the syllables, could she bear to hear the sound? She glanced out the kitchen window.
    The sun, the new leaves on the trees, the blue on the jaybirds, all looked painted, unreal, frozen into their places like on a play-acting stage. Only her breath, trying to fight its way out of her tight chest, made any noise in the room. Hours passed as Eula watched Alex’s mouth set itself to form the words.
    “It’s Laurie…ah…Annalaura. I mean Welles…Annalaura Welles.” Alex’s face showed that he had no idea that the stops and starts of his voice made her ears hurt.
    “Laurie…” She let her mouth form the noises into order and push them back out into the dull, dead world that was now hers.
    She heard the pantry clock tick five times. Each click felt like a knife cutting the inside of her throat. Her one night of perfect, exquisite pleasure banged against those sounds coming out of her husband’s mouth. The only laurel wreath Alex had called out in ecstasy that night belonged to Annalaura…Laura Welles.
    “The ba…baby?” She coughed each syllable through the heavy grit of sandpaper.
    Alex finally turned his eyes back to her. “Dolly. Her name is Dolly.” He said it like he was praying soft in church. He said it like it was the most precious name ever