“It’s twins,” she had said. “Your Mama had a hard time pushing you out and she wasn’t a young woman then. She’s forty-four now and she ain’t strong. Wouldn’t hurt if you two did a little praying.”
There was no talking on the porch that day. Not to God. Not to each other. Benjamin sat in the porch swing. Grover sat on the steps, his eyes fixed on the creek. Each time his wife cried out he flinched and cursed under his breath.
Irene had been in labor since before dawn. It was past four now. The sun was sinking below the pine trees on the other side of the creek. “That woman can’t take much more of this and neither can I.” He got up from the steps and went into the house. The screen door slammed behind him.
“Stay out of here, Grover. I’m tending to your wife the best I can.”
“I’m just getting a drink, Sarah. Can’t a man get a drink in his own house?”
Grover opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Benjamin didn’t have to look to know that his stepfather had taken out his bottle of Jim Beam and was standing in front of the sink; his head dropped back, the whiskey pouring straight from the bottle down his throat. He had watched him do it many times. His Adam’s apple would bob up and down as he swallowed. Then he would lower the bottle, wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, let out a satisfied little sound from his throat, check the bottle and put it back under the sink.
“Shit” said Benjamin under his breath. “It ain’t his house. Can’t the bastard even stay sober today of all days when my mother is in there probably dying, giving life to his brats?”
Another cry came from inside the house. It echoed from across the creek. A few minutes later his mother cried out again, weaker, all out of breath and then a baby howled.
Sarah came out to the porch wiping her hands on one of his mother’s dishtowels. The towel was bloody. So was Sarah’s apron. “Where’s your father, Benjamin?”
“He ain’t my father” Benjamin growled. “How's my mama? Is it over?”
“The poor thing passed out from the pain. It’s a blessing. She’s breathing. I got the bleeding stopped. I’ll get the babies cleaned up and you can come in and see your sisters."
“I don’t want to see them. I hate them. I hate that bastard for what he did to my Mama.”
“Now, Benjamin. You need to calm down and get a hold of yourself. Your Mama needs you, son. She is not a strong woman and that man she married is just about worthless. But she's your Mama and those little babies in there are your flesh and blood.”
Sarah returned to her sister’s bedside. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly. Sarah talked softly to Irene as she picked up one of the babies and sponged her carefully with warm water. “Irene, this one looks just like you did when you were born. She already has a full head of hair. Bless her heart. And she sure has the Foreman chin. Goodness gracious.” She wrapped the infant in a clean white cloth and placed her in the basket next to Irene’s bed.
“I don’t know who this one favors. Looks like a little fairy child from one of those stories you read me – Midsummer Night something. Look at those blue eyes. Why they’re big as saucers.”
Irene opened her eyes. “Let me see my babies, Sister.”
Sarah put the second baby next to her twin and brought the basket closer so Irene could see.
“You’re right, Sarah. Maybe I should name her Titania.”
“Hold on honey. Let’s not get carried away. Remember how you wanted to name Benjamin “Orlando” because you were reading “As You Like It” when you were carrying him?” Sarah put the basket down and wiped her sister’s face. “Honey, there’s time enough to worry about names when you get your strength back. You just rest now and let me get you cleaned up so your boy can come in. He’s hardly moved from that porch since dawn. He’s worried sick about you.”
“Where’s Grover? Isn’t he here?”
“He had something to tend to. He’ll be back directly. Now just you rest.”
Benjamin was still sitting on the porch an hour later when Sarah came to the door. Reluctantly, he followed her inside and back to the bedroom where his mother lay sleeping, her face grey as though all the life had been bled out of her, but she seemed to be resting peacefully
The twins were asleep in a basket beside the bed. They were no bigger than kittens, red and wrinkled. One of the babies had a full head of dark hair. The other one had some light colored fuzz on her head.
Sarah put her hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Meet your new baby sisters, Benjamin. What do you think?”
He didn’t say what he was thinking. He didn’t say he wanted nothing more than to take a pillow and smother the life out of them. Instead he shook his head, “They sure are scrawny.”
Grover stayed away all night. He came back around noon the next day. Benjamin met him at the back door. The two of them stood, glaring at each other. Neither of them said a word.
The standoff between the thirty-six-year old man and his twelve-year-old stepson continued until Sarah stepped between them. “Where in creation have you been, Grover? You should be ashamed of yourself running away and leaving my sister like that. She nearly died.” Sarah had not slept for two days. She had delivered two babies and watched her beloved sister nearly die. Any civility she possessed vanished when she smelled the whiskey and cheap perfume that emanated from her brother-in-law. “My sister and her children deserve better than the likes of you, but since it was me that pushed her to marry you I'll keep my peace.”
“That’s the first intelligent thing you said today, Sarah. You do that. You hold your tongue. I’m going to see my wife.”
“Not like that you’re not. You clean yourself up before you go in there.”
Grover pushed Sarah roughly out of the way and walked unsteadily to the bedroom where Irene lay with a baby in each arm. She smiled weakly for a moment, but when her husband failed to return her smile, it faded. The man that glared down at her and her babies was nothing like her first husband.
***
Irene’s mind reached back to the day Caleb had died. It was March 8, 1924 - Benjamin’s ninth birthday. Caleb had been in the kitchen making coffee when Benjamin came in. “Good morning, son. It’s early for a boy to be up on a Saturday – especially on his birthday. I was planning to take care of your chores this morning.”
“I don’t mind. Really.” Benjamin grabbed a biscuit and hurried out.
Irene had been watching from the doorway. She walked into the kitchen just as her son had run out the back door toward the barn.
Caleb took a sip of his coffee. “Our son’s is a natural with those animals. You know he was telling me last night he wanted to be an animal doctor when he grows up. Don’t that beat all, Irene? He could do it too. That boy is smart as they come. He don’t get it from me. That’s for sure.”
Irene tied on her apron, poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her husband at the table. “He takes after you, Caleb. He’s kind and gentle and hardworking. The boy doesn’t even rest on his birthday.” She reached out and touched his cheek. He still had the boyish face she had fallen in love with in thirty years before.
“Nine years old today. Looks like it’s going to be a pretty day. I think maybe Benjamin and I will take a ride into Belhaven. Let the boy have a little fun. I’ve got a few things to attend to and then we’ll be on our way.”
When Benjamin came back inside Irene was busy mixing up the batter for his birthday cake. He walked over and ran his finger along the edge of the bowl.
“Get your dirty hands out of my bowl.” She laughed and pretended to swat her son with her spoon.
Benjamin grinned, licking his finger.
“Your father said something about taking you into town for your birthday, Benjamin. Good thing, too. It’ll keep y’all out of my hair while I get your birthday supper ready. You go get yourself cleaned up now. I don’t want you riding into town looking like a field hand.”
Benjamin gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off to get ready. She marveled that at nine he was nearly as tall as she was. He really did take after his father in every way. “I’m a lucky woman,” she said to herself. Her husband coaxed their livelihood out of the earth that surrounded their small clapboard house on Pungo Creek. Her son was good with the animals and never complained about getting up early to tend to them before heading off to school. He was a good student – never gave them a minute of trouble. Irene worried sometimes that he might be lonely – that he should have a brother or sister to keep him company – but he seemed satisfied being an only child.
She watched from her kitchen window as Caleb led the horses down from the barn. One of the horses was Salvo. She didn’t trust that horse. He didn’t like to be ridden. She walked out to meet Caleb at the back steps.
Caleb cut her off before she could speak her disapproval. “Don’t worry so much, Irene. I can handle this horse. We can’t just keep him corralled up eating our oats. Salvo has to work for his keep - like the rest of us.” He laughed. Irene didn’t.
Irene was still frowning when she stood on the back porch watching Caleb and Benjamin ride away a few minutes later. “You be careful, Caleb.” She called after him. Her husband turned around, grinned, waved good-bye. That was the last time Irene saw him alive.
It had been a freak accident. He and his father had been riding back from town when Benjamin challenged his father to a race. “I’ll wager you that I can beat you to the crossroads. If I win, you have to do my chores for a week.”
Benjamin didn’t wait for his father’s response. He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and took off.
“Hold on, Benjamin,” his father called after him. “Your Mama will have my hide if you get hurt.”
Salvo pawed the ground impatiently. She was agitated, straining against her bit. When Caleb loosened the reins she raced uncontrollably after the other horse. Benjamin turned around in time to see his father's horse rear back on his hind legs. Caleb had a startled look on his face as he fell backward. Benjamin had raced back to his father but it was too late. His neck was broken.
That night Benjamin took down his father’s rifle, walked into the barn and shot Salvo. He blamed the horse for his father’s death, but he blamed himself more. He never told his mother that he had challenged his father to a race. He bore his guilt silently. Irene’s grief had been so enormous, she was only dimly aware of her son.
Benjamin continued getting up at dawn and taking care of the animals before school but he couldn’t tend to the crops. Neighbors helped the best they could, but they had their own fields to plant. When a drifter had shown up and offered to take care of the farm in exchange for room and board, Irene had reluctantly allowed him into their home.
Irene had loved only one man in her life. She and Caleb had been devoted to each other since they were children. It had been a foregone conclusion that they would marry, but Caleb insisted on waiting until was able to care for Irene properly. It was Sarah that finally convinced him not to wait any longer.
“Sarah, I love your sister but I won’t live with her under her father’s roof. When I can afford to build her a house of her own, I will ask her to marry me.”
“You are more of a fool than I thought you were, Caleb. Irene wants a baby. How long are you going to make her wait?”
The next Sunday after preaching Caleb had swallowed his pride, collected all his courage and asked Andrew Foreman for the hand of his daughter. “I love your daughter. It dishonors me that I cannot give Irene a home of her own, but I don’t want to live without her any longer.”
The old man had surprised Caleb by welcoming the idea enthusiastically. “It’s about time you came to your senses, my boy. I’d about given up hope of ever being a granddaddy. You are welcome in my home and I hope you will consider it your own.”
Irene and Caleb had been happy together. When she buried him she swore she would never love another man. But who could blame Irene for allowing herself to become infatuated with Grover? She was a lonely, middle-aged woman left with a young boy and a farm to tend to. Grover was handsome - movie star handsome. He had dark curly hair and blue eyes. He was tall and well built and seemed to have boundless energy. Irene watched him shyly as he worked. She noticed the tattoo of a rose on his right arm, his long fingers and his tanned, hairless chest. But it wasn’t just his looks that captured her. It was his self-assurance and his brashness. Within a year he was sharing her bed.
When Irene’s belly started to swell, her sister persuaded her to marry Grover for the sake of the baby. “It don’t matter whether you love him or not” she said when Irene said she had no feelings for him. “Your children need a father.”
Irene and Grover were married quietly in a somber service at Sidney Church. There was no celebration. Irene soon discovered that her handsome husband had a dark side. While no one would ever accuse Grover of being lazy, when he got home from the fields at night he expected his wife to cater to his every need. He had his own ideas about how things should be done and constantly found fault with Benjamin. He made Sarah feel so unwelcome that her visits became more and more infrequent. But it was his drinking that disturbed Irene most. When he drank Grover’s was unpredictable. A violent rage would erupt at the least provocation or he might become amorous and force himself on Irene, ignoring both her delicate condition and the presence of her young son.
Sarah had been right. The child she was carrying did need a father and so did Benjamin. She just wasn’t sure Grover was the father her children needed.
* * *
The babies wriggled in her arms bringing her back to the present. She looked down at the dark-haired one. “I would like to name this one Rose, and this one Pearl” she said dipping her chin to the smaller twin.”
“Don’t matter to me. They’re yours to do with as you please. But that boy out there is another matter. He’s going to learn to show me some respect, starting right now. You've coddled him long enough, Irene.”
“Grover, don’t you touch my son. He's a good boy. You leave him alone.”
Grover smiled for the first time since entering the room. “There ain’t a hell of a lot you can do to stop me now, is there?”
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