Chapter Twenty-One

Mrs. Renee Beck drove directly to the modest motel she had checked into that morning to be closer to the hospital. She hadn’t mentioned the shift from her plush digs to anyone. Changing into her jeans, one of Clint’s bullfighting jerseys with an advertising slogan splaying across her belly, and her scuffed boots, she gathered up the rest of her Walmart clothes in a bag and laid the wedding dress out on the bed, a gift for some lucky maid to find.

Then, she hesitated. The fabric was so beautiful, the lace wonderfully lavish. If one of the babies should be a girl, she might want the dress some day. Renee put the gown back on its padded hanger and slipped it inside the zippered bag. Even with this extra baggage hanging from a loop in the back seat, she traveled light. Renee stuck her straw hat on her head and put the toy tiger on the dashboard. Grateful she had the rental car with the big engine and wide leather seats Clint had leased upon their arrival and would not have to fight the gears of the Belly Nelle, Renee slipped the luxury vehicle into drive, set the cruise control at eighty, and began the three day drive back to Rainbow.

****

Just her luck that Rusty’s goody-goody wife, who had never slept with anyone but her own husband, was the only person available to come get Renee at the airport after she’d turned in the rental car. Renee got into the mom-mobile with three-year-old Katie of the coppery curls strapped into a car seat in the back, slouched down in the front seat, and hoping to avoid conversation, stared out the window. No luck with that either.

“So, how is Clint? We all saw him get hit by that bull. Everyone has prayed for him, even Bodey.”

“Must be working. He got out of ICU and was mending three days ago.”

“You and he are expecting twins. That’s wonderful.”

Renee closed her eyes and compressed her lips. She kept her eyes on the scenery. “How did you know?”

“Well, Eve and I thought you looked a little plump at the funeral, and we sort of guessed you might be expecting because you never let yourself go that way—unlike me. When Bodey got in touch with Snuffy to see how Clint was doing, we heard the news. He said you two were going to get married in the hospital.”

“We did—for the sake of the babies. It was a marriage of—what do they call it in those old novels? You’re the history major.”

“A marriage of convenience? I don’t believe that, not after the way Clint beat on Dewey for doing—you know.”

“Look, Noreen, you believe in soul mates and all that crap, and hell, Eve believes in miracles, but it’s not like that. I had to sign papers saying I’d give up the babies to the Becks. It’s the best for all of us. What kind of mother would I be anyhow?”

“A good one if you tried. Rusty and I will vouch for you, Eve and Bodey, too, if you want to fight for custody.”

Noreen had that pitying stare on her face, Renee knew without looking. “What would your testimony be—that I helped you sneak around with your boyfriend until you got pregnant—that I slept with Bodey at the age of seventeen and a few times after that.”

“You helped bring about a reconciliation between the Niles and Courville families.”

“I made trouble. That’s all I ever do. I’m no good. Stop praying for me. I cannot be redeemed.”

A small voice came from the backseat. “Auntie Renee, don’t cry. We can get some ice cream to make you feel better.”

“Thanks, Katie-bug, but ice cream won’t help this time.” Renee regarded her belly pushing against the fabric of Clint’s bullfighting shirt. “It will only make me bigger sooner.

****

The terrible drive over at last Renee refused any help with her scanty bags and let herself into her house. If Noreen got in the door, she’d insist on staying and talking. First thing she did was turn the thermostat down to seventy from its setting of eighty. Louisiana—still hot as Hades in September. She threw open the living room curtains hiding the view the garden. Le Grand Pisseur still tinkled mightily with his oversized dick into the birdbath, not as amusing as he used to be.

She straggled back to the bedroom past the parade of partially nude male portraits she’d done mostly of former lovers and into her lair. Instead of finding comfort in her home, all seemed wrong, unsuitable, out of joint. Renee jerked off her boots and stretched out on the tiger-striped comforter. She couldn’t rest. She’d had her own bedroom suite when married to the heart surgeon who came and went at odd hours. Dear, sweet Gerry had taken himself off to a snoring room after he completed his business. Except for Clint, men rarely spent the night with Renee. She missed his warmth, the steady sound of his breathing, the arm always ready to enfold her if she had one of those wretched dreams of Uncle Dewey entering her room.

Renee tossed, finally found a comfortable spot, and let her mind drift. Maybe if she got rid of the erotica, Clint would allow the children to visit sometimes. She closed her eyes. A short nap might help to banish such ridiculous sentimentality from her mind.

The doorbell rang. Someone persistent outside laid on the bell. She wished they would go away. Close to eight o’clock, darkness fell. Her stomach rumbled and her bladder ached. Pregnancy was a real pain in the—belly.

The visitor couldn’t be the one person she wanted to see. She’d seen him last tied to a hospital bed by tubes and wires a thousand miles away. A scowl on her face, Renee stalked down the hall and flung open the front door. There stood Eve Landrum, tall, pale and pure, the mother goddess holding a hot covered dish by its handles.

“If you’ve come to save me, you’re too late,” Renee snarled, ever ungrateful for pity and comfort.

“I believe you have to save yourself, Renee. I’ve only come to feed you because I know you rarely cook. Let me put this down. I have groceries in the car.”

Oh, how she wanted to slam the door in Eve’s face, but steam escaped from under the lid of the covered dish. A rich, cheesy aroma filled the air. Renee’s stomach betrayed her with a loud growl.

“Come in if you must. I have to pee.” She stalked away and let Eve do as she wanted.

By the time Renee returned to the kitchen, Eve had filled a dish with a generous portion of shrimp fettuccini, the kind made with cream cheese and Velveeta and featured at every church social. She had shaken salad from a bag and added a tall glass of milk poured from a gallon container for a beverage.

As Renee sucked up tiny pink shrimp embedded in noodles, Eve put away the contents of a dozen plastic bags from Rainbow Liquor and Groceries. She filled a bowl with fresh fruit: grapes, bananas, apples. She stocked the empty vegetable drawer with tomatoes, green peppers, carrots, and celery, and threw away a sealed bag of moldy cheese cubes.

Holding up a loaf of seven-grain bread from the Herbarium, Eve asked, “Should I leave this out, or do you want to refrigerate it? No preservatives. It goes bad fairly fast but makes great toast. I put a dozen eggs in the rack, and there’s sliced low-fat ham in the meat keeper. Say, your answering machine is blinking. Should I turn it on for you?”

“No! I’ll get to that later. Look, Eve, I appreciate this. I really do. But, don’t you have a baby to nurse or something?”

“I pump breast milk and put it into bottles so Bodey can help out at night.”

“Too much information!”

“Don’t you plan to nurse?”

A lump formed in Renee’s throat. “Implants, remember? I don’t think I can even if …” For a moment all she could recall was Clint doing his yokel cowboy routine about her not being able to feed his babies with those breasts.

Eve watched her face and changed the subject. “Why don’t you come over and go for a swim with me tomorrow? Afterward, we could paint together in my new studio.”

Renee licked cheese sauce from the corner of her mouth. “My bikinis won’t fit anymore.”

“There wasn’t much to them in the first place. Just let it all hang out. Bodey won’t mind.”

“Okay, after all that driving I could use some exercise, but I’m not sure what I’m allowed to do.”

“Swimming is great for pregnant women. I swam in the pool the day before I had Shea. But, we need get you set up with Dr. Maddox in Opelousas. He is wonderful. And we must shop for some really stylish maternity clothes. Does that cheer you up?”

“Oh, I don’t need them yet. Besides, my cards are maxed out.” Renee glanced down at her full stomach and realized she still wore Clint’s bullfighting shirt, stretched out over her breasts and belly and defaced by a fettuccini noodle, along with an unzipped pair of jeans. She wanted to cry about losing her figure, but mostly about losing him.

“Hey, finish your salad, and there’s frozen yogurt for dessert,” Eve said a little too brightly.

“Maybe later. I think I want to lie down again.”

“You will come over tomorrow. Promise me. You need good food and exercise for the sake of the babies. Your figure will recover faster if you stay in shape, too.”

“Fine, I promise. Go home to your husband and son.”

As soon as she got Eve Landrum out the door, Renee turned on the answering machine clogged with messages—Clint in a slurred voice asking her to come back—Mama Lena, no, that would be Mrs. Beck, telling her she would make Gunter fix everything—Snuffy saying he sure thought Clint might heal faster with her at his side—Norma Jean claiming other women, those damned nurses, would cut into Renee’s territory if she didn’t get her ass back to Washington now that she’d showed ’em she couldn’t be pushed around—Sr. Helen telling their former student that she and Sr. Nessy prayed for both her and Clint—and Clint again and again and again. She erased all but the ones with Clint’s recorded voice and played those over and over until she got to sleep.