Bodark Creek - 22. Chapter 22

Even though my son Del was younger than Albie, Del quickly left his cousin behind. Del was always tall, and he matched Albie’s height by the time he was four. By that point, Albie was seven. People seeing Rosalind or me with both the boys would sometimes ask if they were twins. That might have embarrassed Rosalind if she wasn’t already used to hearing comments about her son. She simply answered, “No, my sister’s husband’s just taller than mine. That’s all.”

It wasn’t completely true. Dock was probably only a hair shorter than Martin, especially when they were both wearing boots. Dock always picked his heels higher. The shortest man in our family was really Charley. “Well, there was nothing left by the time Daddy made you,” Dougie would kid if he wanted to get Charley riled. Though after Charley went into the Navy, that pretty well stopped. I think Dougie was a little jealous of Charley’s girls.

Still, Del was talking more easily at four, than maybe Albie ever did. Once Albie started reading and writing, there was hope he’d catch up. But that never happened. Albie learned his A-B-Cs well enough, and he could print his name, though it never really got easier to read. But you’d almost think he was Martin’s son, not Dock’s, for as quiet as he was.

“Does the boy stutter?” people would ask. “Is that why he doesn’t talk?”

“Nah, he just doesn’t have much to say,” Rosalind would insist.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dock would add. “Though he always talks well enough with me.”

That was true. I could walk into the woods, hunting for Dock and Albie on a Sunday, to tell them dinner was ready. And before I would even see them, sitting on the wall of the pond, I could hear their voices. Dock would always be explaining something, and Albie was always asking “Why?” It reminded me of the way I used to be with Mama.

When Albie started at the mill kindergarten, there was less reason for Dock to be home all the time. But he stayed anyway. “Something could happen,” he explained. “I might have to go and get the boy.”

“Hardly be a problem,” Sonny commented. “If you and Rosalind were working right there.”

Dock just shrugged, and the rest of us let it go. But two years later, the mill expanded again, hiring back nearly everyone who wanted to work. Oil was being found all over Texas helped everyone.

“What’s Dock’s excuse now?” Sonny would ask. “The boy’s been in real school going on a whole year. It’s not like he’s still in kindergarten.”

Since Albie seemed able to take care of himself, Dock gave in, agreeing to work with Sonny, fixing looms. “I’ll keep my eye on him,” my oldest brother told us. Dougie would be there, too.

Still, there were days Albie would get sick, and Dock had to bring him home early. Dock would walk into town, then walk Albie back. Rosalind and Dock still didn’t own a car, and while my brothers would have easily lent theirs, they never drove it the short distance to work.

“It would be nice to have a car,” Rosalind told me. “If only so I could get out and see you more often. But we really don’t need one.”

“Can’t afford one’s more like it,” Walter griped. “Which they could, if Dock had been working all this time.”

“I’m surprised she never kicked him out,” Dougie put in. “You know how hard Rosalind works.” My brother turned to me. “You could’ve said something about that, Addy.”

“So could you,” I told him. “If it was all that important.”

“She listens better to you,” Dougie insisted. And Sonny and Walter felt the same way.

Their wives didn’t seem to care. They had surprisingly different opinions when they weren’t around my brothers. I was never that close to Sonny’s wife, maybe because Ruth was over twenty years older than I was. But Walter’s second wife, Myra, was near my age, and we talked a lot on Sundays. Dougie’s second wife, Leona, usually joined in.

“I’ve always liked Dock,” Leona said. “Dougie’s a good daddy, though he’s better with Gordon than with the girls. But I’ve never seen him feel for any of them the way Dock does for Albie.”

Myra agreed. “I don’t think Walter even feels towards me the way Dock does towards Albie. And you know Dock feels the same way about Rosalind. She’s a lucky woman.”

“That doesn’t mean I love Dougie less,” Leona quickly added.

“And I couldn’t live without Walter,” Myra agreed.

“What’re you all talking about?” Dougie suddenly asked, coming out on the porch.

“You,” his wife teased.

“Well, if you can’t be nice, be quick,” he said. Then he laughed and went back inside.

“He’s probably listening at the window,” Myra warned.

“Nah,” Leona said. “Dougie knows I’d never say anything behind him that I wouldn’t say to his face.”

When Leona nearly died, in another terrifying flu epidemic, it brought our family even closer together. I was glad Martin, Del, and I lived out on the farm, though that didn’t stop any of us from getting sick.

“This is Daddy’s doing,” Dougie said, once the flu had passed and we were all having Sunday dinners again. “He put a curse on us.”

“A curse?” Rosalind asked. “I remember Daddy using harsh words, though not very much. But I can’t remember him casting spells.”

“It was after your mama died,” Dougie explained, “when Daddy wanted to quit the mill. We all told him he’d have be able to if he hadn’t gotten married again.”

“You told him that,” Sonny said. “I never spoke back to Daddy.”

“Not in your memory, anyhow,” Dougie joked. “But I remember you two arguing often enough.”

“Arguing isn’t talking back,” Sonny insisted. I noticed he was getting more respectful as he grew older. Maybe being a church deacon helped.

“And if he put a curse on anyone,” Walter told Sonny. “It wasn’t on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Dougie agreed. “When I kidded Daddy about not getting married the second time, he asked how I’d like sleeping alone for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t believe Daddy would say anything that personal,” Rosalind objected.

“Maybe you weren’t there.”

“No, he said it all right,” Sonny confirmed.

“And then Virginia died, and now Leona almost has,” Dougie went on. “Now you tell me if that’s not Daddy’s curse.”

“You should have warned me before I married you,” Leona said, laughing.

“I would have, but I was too much in love.”

“Too much in trouble’s more like it, with three children to raise. But I had two, so you must’ve loved me a little to say ‘I do.’”

“I gave you two more, didn’t I?”

“Now that’s your daddy’s curse,” Leona said, laughing again. “Seeing he was still fathering babies into his fifties.”

“God help me,” Dougie said. “Please no. I’ve had enough.”

Everyone laughed at that.

“And Daddy’s curse,” Sonny went on, “if there’s really ever been such a thing, has nothing to do with having babies. It has with do with work. With seven children, you’ll never be able to quit.”

“Oh, hell,” Dougie said, “I could walk out of the mill right today and be fine. We all could. Any one of us has more money than Daddy ever did.”

He was right there, and we’d be quick to admit it. None of us had struck oil, the way some of our lucky Texas neighbors did. But Martin and I had the farm, and Sonny, Dougie, and Walter had gone in on a second one. They worked it hard, while still keeping their jobs at the mill. Their wives all worked full-time, too.

“Dock could have a second job on the farms,” I told Rosalind. “We always need help, and you could save that money.”

Rosalind laughed. “That’ll never happen. You know how things are.”

I did, but it never stopped me from asking if there was “Anything I could do?”

“Now what kind of question is that?” Rosalind would reply.

A decent one, I thought, and Rosalind was one of the most practical people I knew. But she was always very protective when it came to Dock.

“It works both ways,” she pointed out. “You have to look at all the things he does. Could Martin take care of Albie the way Dock has? And would Martin let you quit having children?”

That wasn’t even a question. Besides, I couldn’t see living on the farm with only Martin. I was happy to be expecting another baby in the fall.

“Well, maybe you should tell our brothers that,” Rosalind went on. “The next time they start on Dock.”

It wasn’t that Sonny or Dougie or Walter had anything against the way their brother-in-law was looking after his son. Like Martin, they readily admit that none of them could do that. “I would’ve just twisted the kid’s neck and buried him,” I once heard Dougie say, though I knew he didn’t mean it. But my brothers worked more than sixteen hours a day, and they hated watching Dock doing what they called “just sitting.”

“Someday, Albie’s gonna grow up,” Walter predicted. “And what’s Dock gonna do then?”

“He’s working full-time,” Rosalind said. “Now you just keep your minds out of this.”

“Okay, sis,” they allowed. My brothers all loved Rosalind so felt they had to put up with Dock.

“But you know,” Dougie would always add, “she’s not too old to do better.”

Rosalind was thirty-two then and had been married for eight years. But I couldn’t imagine her living with any man but Dock.