Three weeks had gone by, and even though Eleanor had not smelled beer on Vic’s breath during that time, she had a feeling he was not being honest with her when he said that he’d had no beer to drink since that last time. Sometimes he appeared to be calm, relaxed, and more talkative than usual. At other times, however, Vic appeared sulky and seemed jittery and unresponsive if Eleanor tried to make conversation. She didn’t want to keep asking if he’d been drinking, but she couldn’t help worrying about him, as well as their strained marriage. What if Vic never snapped out of his depression? How could they have a happy life together?
Eleanor picked up the canning jars she’d placed on the kitchen counter and put them in a cardboard box. She had finished all her canning for the season, and several empty jars were left over, so it was time to put those away.
After hanging the handle of a battery-operated lantern over her wrist to guide the way, Eleanor hoisted the box and went carefully down the creaky wooden stairs. When she reached the bottom and her bare feet touched the cold, hard cement floor, Eleanor wished she’d had the good sense to put on a pair of shoes or bedroom slippers before coming down to the basement. Around the house, Eleanor often went barefoot and had since she was a child. She enjoyed the freedom of not wearing shoes, although she guessed it wasn’t very practical at times.
Eleanor made her way over to an old wooden table and placed the lantern and box on it. Between the light spilling into the room through the basement windows, plus the glow of the lantern, she could see fairly well.
The shelves in the cellar had been lined with jars full of a variety of produce from her bountiful garden. Although it seemed like a lot of food, the jars would quickly empty over the winter months, especially if they had visitors for any meals. No doubt they would have some company during the upcoming holidays. At least Eleanor hoped so, because it would be nice to share some meals with other people who would be full of good conversation, not sullen like Vic.
Thinking about the holidays caused Eleanor to frown as she picked up the first two jars and placed them upside down on one of the empty shelves. What if my folks want to come here for Thanksgiving or Christmas? It would not be good for them to see how Vic has been acting, and I’m sure they would catch on to the fact that things aren’t going well in our marriage. She pursed her lips. Maybe having people over to our home isn’t a good idea right now, no matter who they are. I’m actually glad Doretta didn’t come for a visit after Eddie died. She can be kind of assertive at times and may have said something to Vic about his attitude toward me.
Vic’s affections toward Eleanor weren’t what they used to be before the accident that took his brother’s life. He still kept his distance, which hurt her feelings. Eleanor often found herself tearing up whenever he ignored her or treated her unkindly. It was frustrating to do kind things for him, like making his favorite foods, keeping the house neat and clean, giving him space to relax, and pitching in to help whenever he needed her to, only to have him unappreciative of her efforts. It was hard to keep praying about the situation and seeing no results. I wish someone who had been through a similar situation could tell me what to do. I suppose the best thing for me to do at this point is not to give up praying and never lose hope.
Eleanor grabbed two more jars and set them in place. If we went to Grabill for Thanksgiving or Christmas, it’s doubtful we could hide the way things are between us.
She stared across the room at her wringer washing machine, which was not in use at the moment, and continued to ponder the situation. I wish we could go somewhere for the holidays that’s far from here and where nobody knows us. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with any of this for a while, and maybe that would help. Taking a vacation can often help a person relax, and Vic and I both could surely use a little relaxation. Eleanor released a deep sigh. I guess that’s not likely to happen. Knowing Vic, he will say he’s too busy to go anywhere. But if we stay here for the holidays and have any company, most likely he won’t be very sociable. Staying home by ourselves would be even worse, because Vic would probably avoid me as much as possible by hiding out in our room or going to the barn. He’ll let Thanksgiving and Christmas go by without any celebration on his part at all.
She glanced at the box of jars again. I’d better stop feeling sorry for myself and finish this job. When I go back upstairs, I’ll put on some shoes and a jacket, then get out to the barn and check on the gray-and-white cat whose kittens should be born almost any day.
After Eleanor put on her warm outer garments, she left the house and headed for the barn. On the way, she paused to look at the half-built chicken coop Vic had started two weeks ago and never finished. After she’d asked him if he would mind if she raised some chickens, he’d said, “If that’s what you want to do, I have no objections.” Vic had even said he would build the coop, but of course he hadn’t followed through with that, so they hadn’t bought any chickens.
“It’s nothing new,” Eleanor muttered as Checkers raced alongside her. “Vic rarely follows through with anything anymore. There’s probably no point in bringing up the idea of raising chickens again.” With the weather turning colder, Eleanor was aware that it would be more of a challenge to keep baby chicks alive. If, by some chance, Vic finished the coop and she got some chickens at this late date, they would have to be fully grown.
Maybe I’ll wait till spring to bring the topic up again, she thought. Hopefully by then Vic will feel better and might be more willing to finish the chicken house project.
Eleanor put the dog in his pen and moved on toward the barn. When she entered the building through the tall double doors, she heard the horses’ huffing breaths and the swish of their tails coming from the stalls. “I’ll be there shortly, Buttons,” she called. “I know you and Domino want to be let out of your stalls so you can roam free in the pasture.”
Before tending the horses, Eleanor decided to take a quick peek inside the cat’s box she had fixed up last evening. It would only take a few minutes to see if the kittens had been born.
Eleanor hurried across the room and was surprised when she looked into the box and saw no sign of the gray-and-white cat. From the looks of the undisturbed bedding she’d placed inside the box, it didn’t appear that the cat had slept in there at all. After Eleanor had made up the birthing box for the mother-to-be, the cat had seemed kind of restless. Eleanor was sure it wouldn’t be long till the kittens were born, and she looked forward to the pleasure of seeing them.
I wonder where that cat went. Sure hope she didn’t leave the barn and find someplace outside to have her babies. It’s too cold out there for that.
Eleanor moved toward the horses’ stalls but halted when she reached the ladder leading to the hayloft and heard a distinctive meow coming from above. She looked up. I bet the cat didn’t like the box and went up there to make her own birthing bed.
Curious to know if she was right, Eleanor climbed the ladder. At the top, she stood quietly and listened. Meow. Meow. There it was again. Crunching through the prickly straw, Eleanor followed the sound until she came to the place where the mama cat and four adorable kittens lay. “Oh, they’re so cute. You did good, little mama.” Eleanor resisted the urge to pick up one of the wee felines because she didn’t want to upset their mother. There would be plenty of time to hold and pet the kittens when they were a few days older. She was glad the cat had found a safe place to give birth to her babies.
Eleanor was about to go back down the ladder when a section of what looked like a cardboard box, sticking partway out of the hay, caught her eye. Wondering what might be inside, she went to investigate.
Sure enough, it was a cardboard box, and when Eleanor pulled the flaps aside, she gasped. The box was filled with beer cans. Many were empty, but some had not been opened.
Heat rushed through her body. No wonder Vic has been coming out to the barn so often. He’s been up here drinking, and this is his hiding spot. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Eleanor slowly shook her head. She’d had an inkling that Vic had been lying to her, and now she knew for sure. Eleanor picked up one of the cans. I wonder what he’s going to say about this when he gets home this evening and I show him what I found.
Vic stepped onto the porch that evening and was greeted by Checkers with a few loud barks and several wags of his tail. “Hey, buddy, just give me a sec, okay? I just got home and I’d like to wash up.” Vic opened the front door. “Just stay outside and have a good romp. I’ll be back to throw your stick soon.”
After Checkers ran into the yard, Vic shut the door and headed for the kitchen, wondering why there were no delicious smells floating from that room this evening. When Vic entered, he saw Eleanor facing him with her hands behind her back. “I see you finally made it home.” Her lips flattened. “Did you and Tom stop somewhere for a few beers, or were you waiting till you got home to drink your hidden stash?”
“Wh–what do you mean?” Vic’s voice cracked, and he lowered his gaze, unable to look her in the eye.
“Please, look at me, Vic. This is what I mean.”
He forced himself to lift his head and flinched when he saw the can of beer Eleanor held, as she brought her hands out from behind her back. “Where’d you get that?” He could barely get the words out.
“I found it in your secret hiding place in the barn.”
Vic grimaced and bit down on his bottom lip until he tasted blood.
“What do you have to say about this?”
“What were you doing being all schnuppich up there in the hayloft?”
Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to talk about who’s being snoopy? You hid the truth and have been drinking again, even though you said you would stop.” She planted her free hand against her hips. “And for your information, I wasn’t being all snoopy. I heard a meow and went up to see if the gray-and-white cat had found a place to have her babies.” Eleanor set the can of beer on the table. “I not only found the katz and her busslin, but I discovered a box full of beer cans—some full like this one and some empty.”
Vic cleared his throat a few times. “Okay, I believe that you weren’t being snoopy, but let me explain—”
“You’re obviously addicted to this stuff and apparently need it more than you do me.” She gestured to the can of beer.
Vic felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest as his thoughts filled with self-loathing. In addition to living with being the cause of his brother’s death, he’d been hiding the truth about his drinking from Eleanor, and now he felt guiltier than before. He couldn’t deny it—she’d seen the proof—and now Vic had to find a way to make it up to her. So far the stupid things he had chosen to do had only made things worse.
If the tension continued mounting between him and Eleanor, soon there would be no more trust. Vic wasn’t listening to any good advice from his folks or even his wife. It was easier for him to go off alone and brood in the barn. He didn’t make any quality time for the Lord in his life or for his wife and members of his family. They seemed to only get the crumbs from Vic these days. But he had no problem taking care of his need to drink alcohol to help calm his nerves. It was all about number one—himself—and he felt like a selfish brat.
“Eleanor, I am truly sorry.”
She placed both hands over her face and sobbed. “Am I not enough for you, Vic? Is that the problem?”
Vic couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Look what my lies and selfish ways have done to the woman I love.
He pulled Eleanor gently into his arms and patted her back, not even caring that his breath most likely smelled like beer, even with the gum he’d chewed on the ride home in Tom’s truck. She’d found him out anyway, so he no longer had anything to hide. “You are everything I need, Eleanor.” He blinked against the hot tears pushing the back of his eyes. “Please don’t ever leave me. I couldn’t make it without you.”
She sniffed deeply and remained in his embrace. “I am not going to leave you, Vic, but things have to change. You can’t go on trying to drown the pain of losing Eddie by getting drunk or even drinking until you’re relaxed enough to squelch the pain.”
“I know. It’s just that being here, where I see my family all the time, is a constant reminder that my little brother is gone. If we could get out of here for a while, maybe I’d feel better and wouldn’t need to drink.”
She moved closer again and looked up at him with a hopeful expression. “Would it be possible for us to make a trip someplace where it’s warm, like Florida? Maybe we could go there for a couple of weeks and be gone for Thanksgiving. I was thinking about that idea this morning and wishing it could just be the two of us, without spending the holiday with either of our families.”
“That does sound nice.” He clasped her cold hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I have some vacation days coming, so I’ll talk to my boss about it tomorrow. If he says I can take a few weeks off, we can make our plans, start packing, and see if my folks will keep Checkers for us while we’re gone.”
She pressed a palm against her chest as a faint smile formed on her inviting lips. They were lips Vic wanted desperately to kiss, but he couldn’t do it right now—not with beer on his breath. So instead, he wrapped his arms around Eleanor and held her close. He hoped that his boss would be okay with him being gone for a couple of weeks. He also hoped that his craving for alcohol would not go with him on their vacation. He somehow needed to break free from his apparent need for the intoxicating stuff.