I washed your clothes every night before I went to work so you’d have something to wear the next day.” It was hard for them to imagine the kind of poverty she was describing, but she did it well. They could almost taste her desperation and the dust of Texas as they listened raptly to every word.
“I got pregnant with Caroline when Gemma was a year old, and Kate was two. We didn’t have enough money to feed ourselves, let alone another child, but you were born and you were beautiful.” She smiled at Caroline, who had tears in her eyes, listening, trying to imagine what it would be like if she were that poor and had to take care of her children, with little food, few clothes, and no medical care. “We lived in a one-room shack on one of the ranches he worked on. We couldn’t have paid rent. We had one crib for all of you, which Jimmy built himself, and a mattress on the floor for us. He said things would get better one day, but I didn’t believe him. I was twenty-three years old and exhausted, after four years of desperation. I felt like I couldn’t hang on anymore. And I met someone one night at the diner. He was just a boy my age. He’d saved up a little money, and was heading to California. He used to come see me in the daytime when Jimmy was at work. He was no better than the man I had, or not much, but Jimmy never listened. He didn’t want to hear what I was saying. It was just too hard. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was too scared. I wasn’t as strong as he was. I thought it would never get better, and we’d just starve to death or lose you to the state if they found out how we were living with three kids. My father threatened to tell them, so you’d have decent lives and have food and medical care with foster parents. Jimmy swore we’d make it through, and I’m not sure when but I stopped believing in him. I got sick of being told what to do, and to stop complaining and just do what he said. He could be a hard man, although he meant well. He worked as many jobs as he could get. Once I fell in love with someone else, it was all different. Bobby, the other man, wanted me to go to California with him, and said we’d come back for you later. I refused to go with him and leave you, but it made me see that I couldn’t stay with Jimmy anymore. It’s hard for love to thrive in that kind of atmosphere of deprivation. I felt like a slave, harnessed to a hard man I thought didn’t love me. I don’t know if he did or not by then, but he wouldn’t divorce me. He said we were hitched forever.” Traces of her old Texas accent came through as she talked about the distant past.
“I begged him to divorce me and he wouldn’t. I wanted to take you with me, but I didn’t have the money to do it. And I couldn’t afford a divorce myself. Bobby pleaded with me to go with him to California, and swore we’d come back for you as soon as we could. I told Jimmy what I was going to do. He borrowed the money for a divorce from the rancher he worked for. He liked Jimmy. He divorced me, on condition that I give up all custody and rights to the three of you. He said he’d pay me three thousand dollars if I did. That was a fortune to me then, and I thought with that money, I could set up a life in California, come back for you, and a judge would cancel the relinquishment. It was the only way I could get enough money to leave, and set up a life for you, and I never believed any judge would uphold the paper I signed, if I said I didn’t mean it and came back. I was young and stupid,” she said humbly. “And I figured Jimmy would mellow eventually too. So I signed the papers and got the money and left. I figured I’d be back in six months.
“Things were harder in L.A. than I thought. I couldn’t find a job at first. Bobby blew through some of the