Pauline stood outside of the shed waiting to be invited inside by her sisters.
She twisted her light-brown hair streaked with gold around her finger. Gingerly, she put the ends into her mouth and sucked. She liked to suck on her hair even if mean old Mara-Joy would yell at her and say she was disgusting. That just made Pauline want to suck on her hair more. She would have thought Mara-Joy would be nice to her, considering she couldn’t have any little kids of her own on account of the “miscarriage” that happened two years ago and wasn’t allowed to be mentioned. But that didn’t matter. Mara-Joy continued to be mean to Pauline. She would always find something to hit her for. Whether it was for slurping her milk or dragging her feet, which Pauline did all the time when Mara-Joy came over to the house. She liked getting Mara-Joy angry. The only problem was that whenever she got Mara-Joy angry, Mama got furious and would start declaring that Mara-Joy should not be made upset in her own home.
Her own home?
Pauline thought she lived with Chad in their home. Mara-Joy only came over to get Alan-Michael and take him on special trips to the zoo and movies.
She never took Pauline on these special outings. She never even asked if Pauline wanted to go. Maybe it was because Alan-Michael was younger and it made Mara-Joy feel like she had a child to care for. Alan-Michael was only two years younger than she. Not that much younger. Besides ten years old wasn’t all that grown up.
Pauline sighed. It didn’t really bother her that Mara-Joy neglected to take her anywhere. What bothered her was that Mama never told Mara-Joy to include Pauline as well as Alan-Michael on these outings. Mama insisted Joanna and
Constance take Alan-Michael with them whenever they took Pauline out.
Why didn’t Mama uphold the same rules with Mara-Joy?
It didn’t matter. Joanna and Constance liked taking Pauline places, and not Mikey.
When Joanna and Constance found Pauline in their secret hiding place, they weren’t angry with their little sister. They let the shed be her special place too.
Pauline kicked a few stones with the toe of her shoe. The pebbles flew up and made a pinging noise as they hit the side of the shed. Joanna and Constance both turned around from their crouched positions, startled. Relief spread across their faces when they realized it was only Pauline.
“What are you doing lurking over there? Come on, get out of the shadows and sit with us,” Joanna waved Pauline over.
Pauline smiled, releasing the sticky strand of hair from her mouth. She clumsily ran over to her sisters who sat huddled together like conspirators, and she crouched between the two girls. All three looked alike except for a slight difference in hair color. Joanna’s long hair was light brown and poker straight, very much like their mother’s. Constance’s hair was a wavy blonde that fell to just below her chin. Pauline’s was kind of a mix between the two. It was brown with lots of gold highlights sprinkled throughout her shoulder length hair. It was not wavy like Constance’s, but not as straight as Joanna’s either.
All three had their father’s eyes: large, slanting green eyes. All the girls had tan complexions, as did their brother Alan-Michael, who, unlike the girls, had inherited their father’s looks. The only one who was fair skinned was Mara-Joy.
She didn’t resemble any of them, not even Alan-Michael, who looked a little like his other sisters.
Joanna turned to Constance, bent on continuing her conversation where she left off.
“How can I get him to notice me?” Joanna asked, firmly pressing her lips together, strained. At fifteen, nearly sixteen, Joanna had transformed from a plain, gangly girl into a strikingly pretty one. She was tall and lean with an attractive oval face. She had grace and elegance that were appealing, but not threatening, to the opposite sex.
“I have it all planned out,” said Constance as she waved her hands into the air, a habit she employed when wanting to explain herself. Pauline lifted her hands, mimicking Constance.
Joanna gently, but kindly stopped Pauline’s waving hands and observed Constance’s animated face.
“Well, don’t keep me in the dark. Tell me. How can I get Chad to notice me?” Her eyes twinkled. The time had finally come. It was the opportunity to get back at Mara-Joy for all her years of torment, to teach her a lesson and give her a dose of her own medicine.
“Mara-Joy comes over every Friday to take Alan-Michael out to God knows where. When she comes back, she always stays and visits with Mama and
Pappy. When Mara-Joy leaves with Alan-Michael, tell Ma and Pa you have a date.” She looked at both Pauline and Joanna, making sure she had their full attention.
“Go over to Chad’s. He will be there,” she said before Joanna could interrupt.
“He works over the bills on Friday. You know, trying to figure out some way to pay for the stuff Mara-Joy buys.”
Joanna began to get excited. It did make sense. Mara-Joy and Chad enjoyed the same routine every Friday for months. She couldn’t remember the last time it had not been so.
“But what if she comes home before I have left?” Joanna stuttered, trying to find a hitch in Constance’s plan. The prospect of actually proceeding with their plans they had schemed up two years prior both excited and frightened her.
“I’ll call when she leaves home,” Constance said matter-of-factly.
“You are so smart, Connie,” Joanna squealed, grabbing hold of Pauline and hugging her. Pauline had stopped listening to the two girls and proceeded to daydream. When Joanna clutched her, squealing in delight, she then squealed back in tune, caught up in the excitement.
Constance shrugged but laughed. She loved Joanna dearly and only she had permission to call her Connie. Everyone else, including Pauline, called her Constance. Connie was a term of endearment meant only for Joanna.
Constance firmly believed that the name Connie did not evoke an image of intelligence. She knew Joanna thought she was smart, but to everyone else she had to prove her mind worked. With a no-nonsense name like Constance, people had to see that she was more than just a girl, but an astute person.
“Then it is set.” Constance beamed, crossing her arms across her swelling chest. Her plan was foolproof.
“I suppose it is.” Joanna covered her mouth with her hands, not knowing what to do. She didn’t know if she should burst out laughing or throw up.
“You can do it, sis. I have faith in you,” Constance said, reaching out and placing her hand gently on Joanna’s knee.
Joanna smiled weakly, placing her hands on top of Constance’s. They felt warm and smooth, familiar and safe, and at that moment she needed to feel safe. What they planned to do was uncharted territory to them. There would be no turning back after she succeeded in her plan.
“I hope so, Constance, and I hope I know what I am getting myself into.”
That Friday, Mara-Joy began her usual ritual of preparing herself to take her brother to the movies. They enjoyed going to the silent films, particularly the comedies. The world was moving fast. She had even heard rumors of “talkies.”
How she dreamed of becoming a movie star. She just knew she could do it if given the chance. She had the looks and the talent. She admired herself in the vanity mirror and pretended to be surprised by Charlie Chaplin.
Chad stood by the bedroom door watching his wife’s performance. He shook his head, wondering again what was on her mind.
“Can’t you stay home tonight for once?” Chad asked. Mara-Joy turned around venomously. She didn’t like to be snuck up on. Chad had a way of suddenly being there when she least expected. If there was one thing Mara-Joy didn’t like, it was to be startled. She had to be in control.
Always.
She scowled at Chad and turned back to the mirror. Picking up a brush, she began to brush her hair. She had it set that day, so the tight curls were somewhat tamed for the moment.
“You know how important my brother is to me.” She brushed harder into her black locks, glaring at Chad’s reflection in the mirror.
“What about me? Am I not important to you?” Chad asked. He had aged a lot in the two years since his marriage to Mara-Joy. He didn’t look his nearly twenty years.
They fought constantly. Mara-Joy was always demanding something of him and cruelly making him do it for her. The mask was off. He knew who Mara-Joy was now. Anytime he threatened to leave her, she held some kind of blackmail over his head, saying he beat her--or worse--raped her when she refused to make love to him. He felt weak and like not much of a man because he stayed. When she wanted him, he went to her like a dog in heat.
He couldn’t seem to help himself. She knew how to make him fall to her feet.
This alone made Chad loathe himself. Every time he climaxed in her arms, he hated himself more for being so weak.
“Have you forgotten that I will never have a child of my own?” She didn’t turn to Chad but continued to glare at him through the mirror.
Chad turned away from her ice-cold stare, unable to stomach looking at her. It was almost as though she blamed him for her failure to have children. As if it were his fault she had lost the baby and couldn’t get pregnant again.
“Do you not realize that he is the closest thing I will ever have to a son?” She turned around forcing Chad to look at her. “Are you so selfish as to deny me the only mothering experience I shall ever have? You know how close my brother is to me. You can see me any time. I am your wife.”
Chad pulled away from her stinging words.
“Go,” he said, turning his back to his wife.
Heading toward the front door, Joanna called back to her parents in the other room. Jobeth didn’t look up from her knitting. She wanted to finish the matching sweaters she was making for Mara-Joy and Alan-Michael. Alan looked up from his newspaper. He had never been a strikingly handsome man, but time had given him a debonair look. Many women found him nice to look at and envied Jobeth’s married status.
“Where are you going, love?” he asked, smiling up at his daughter. Joanna smiled back feeling a tinge of guilt for what she was about to embark on. She loved her father dearly. He was a good man and was kind and loving to all his children.
“Out with friends, Pa,” Joanna said nervously. At least it wasn’t lying, really.
If she kept telling herself that, she would eventually believe it. Then the guilt of lying to her father would hopefully fade.
“Well, are you too old to give your father a kiss good-bye?” Joanna went over and planted a dry kiss on Alan’s whiskery cheek. She went to leave and thought twice about it, turning and giving her Pa a hug too. Alan warmly patted her back, gently kissing the top of her forehead.
“Be in by nine,” he said, rearranging his paper again.
“Oh, Pa!” Joanna implored, and gave him a frown that melted his heart.
Only Alan’s children and Jobeth could make him do as they pleased. Everyone else listened to Alan Benson. But when it came to his family, he was all heart and couldn’t turn any of them down. He thought of the childhood he had, alone and unloved by his parents.
Life with Jobeth had changed all that. With Jobeth they had formed the family Alan had always dreamed of.
“Ten, please? It is Saturday tomorrow,” Joanna requested.
“Ten, no later,” Alan said firmly.
“Thank you,” Joanna squealed and kissed Alan once more on the cheek, before running out the door.
Alan looked at his paper and chuckled to himself. His children were leading lives so different from his own childhood.
“Alan, that girl has you wrapped around her baby finger. Ten o’clock indeed!” Jobeth tried to look upset with her husband, but she wasn’t really. She enjoyed watching Alan dote on his children. He was a good father and she loved him dearly. She went back to her knitting, faking disapproval.
“Oh why not, darling? Mara-Joy was out ‘till ten many nights when she was younger than Joanna. Besides, this is the first time I have ever heard Joanna mention a friend. Other than Constance and Pauline she never mentions any other children,” Alan sighed, “It’s nice that our daughters are close, but it is also nice to see them interact with the outside world.”
“Mara-Joy and Alan-Michael have always been popular, unlike our other girls. I just hope Joanna won’t be naive and get mixed up in trouble. She is not sophisticated with the outside world like Mara-Joy is,” Jobeth said, busily attacking her yarn. Alan rolled his eyes at his wife.
“What?” Jobeth asked, looking up from her work.
“She is not a moron, Jobeth. Joanna is just as sophisticated as Mara-Joy. She is just not as flamboyant.”
“Well, whatever,” Jobeth said, placing her knitting down and going to her husband. “I went to see Shawna today. I just cannot believe that little girl of hers. She is the spitting image of her mama when she was six.” She sat down beside Alan.
“Yes dear, she is.” Alan placed his arm around Jobeth’s shoulders.
She snuggled into his familiar, safe embrace.
“You are going to miss them terribly when they leave.”
Jobeth wiped away a tear already forming in the corner of her eye. She would never forgive Oliver for taking Shawna away again. Why did he have to move to the country?
Was it not he who insisted they move to the city?
“I will.” Jobeth wiped away the tear and leaned into Alan more for support. “She is like a daughter to me. I just find it hard to believe sometimes that she is all grown up with a family of her own.” Jobeth frowned and looked up into her husband’s face. He had aged, he looked thirty-nine instead of thirty-three, but then she had aged too and she was only thirty-one. Life had been hard for them and although they still looked quite good, their faces sometimes showed the weary roads they had traveled. They didn’t look hard or rough, but they had never really been young.
“At least Alan-Michael is still young.” She grinned, erasing the signs of time in her eyes.
“Do I get the feeling you want another baby, Jobeth?” Alan asked, placing his hand on her belly. Even after giving birth to five children, Jobeth’s stomach was still flat and smooth.
“Oh, Alan!” Jobeth laughed and clutched his hand to her. “I only wish Mara-Joy could have given us a granddaughter who resembles her. It seems so unfair to her.” She sighed heavily.
“We do have three other daughters and a son who will all give us grandchildren one day.” Alan could not believe how much he loved Jobeth.
After all their years together, he loved her more with each passing day. She was more beautiful to him that day then she was the day before. He still wondered how he had been so lucky to have her as his own, his wife, and the mother of his children.
His forever.
“I need to hold you, my love,” Alan whispered into Jobeth’s ear as he held her tightly.
She felt a shiver run up her spine and tucked her head under Alan’s chin.
“Let’s go to bed, Jobeth,” he said huskily. She reached up and kissed Alan tenderly on the lips.
“Lead the way, my darling,” she whispered into his lips. “I will always follow.”
Chapter 32 —