“Or hire us a sled and some mules to pull it,” Tootsie laughed.
“I’m going to take mail out to the box and see if we’ve got letters before the ground gets slick.” Luke pushed back from the table and headed to the living room for his coat. “Tornadoes and now an ice storm. Never saw such crazy weather in northeast Texas. Have you, Aunt Tootsie?” He didn’t wait for an answer but disappeared out the front door.
“Answer is yes, I have. The winter before me and Smokey got married, it iced over up here, and we didn’t get mail for a whole week. Smokey and I wrote to each other every day, and I thought I’d plumb die without his letters,” she said. “Weather is like life. It ain’t nothing but a cycle. We’ll have some cold winters, and then we’ll have some that ain’t bad at all.”
“Damn straight.” Tootsie laughed with her. “And them other four-letter words come in right handy when I’m pissed at the world.”
“You got it, Tootsie.” Carmen’s giggles were so infectious that everyone started in laughing. “And just so y’all know, if Luke brings in some wood that already smells a little scorched, it’s because I unloaded a whole wheelbarrow full of four-letter words on those logs when I was splitting them.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They had three days of icy weather, but Carmen insisted on going to the mailbox at the end of the lane every day. The sooner the divorce papers arrived, the sooner she could sign them and be done with it. The first day, she did some fancy footwork to keep from falling either flat on her face or on her butt a couple of times before she made it to the mailbox. The second day, she took a tumble five feet from her destination and had to crawl to the mailbox post to get her feet solid under her again. The third day, she kicked the post. There wasn’t even a letter from one of the girls or a damned bill for her efforts.
She heaved a long sigh of relief when she saw the big yellow envelope on the fourth day. “Thank you, God!” she muttered through the scarf wrapped snugly around her face. She gathered up all the mail and stuffed it inside the coat that had belonged to Smokey. It hung to her knees, and the sleeves were rolled up, but it was warmer than the lightweight jacket she’d brought from Sugar Run. Who would have ever thought that the weather could be so different from one part of Texas to another? Bending her head against the bitter cold, she hurried back to the house.
For the next three days, everyone in the house went over the divorce decree, one sentence at a time. Tootsie called the lawyer several times so he could explain the legalese. One week after Diana’s birthday and with everyone gathered around her, Carmen signed the papers and dated them November twenty-second. It was just her name on the last page in a seven-sheet stack of paper, but somewhere near the bottom it really should have said THE END.
“Six weeks and two days since Eli got this whole process started. Shouldn’t I feel something?” She’d thought there would be relief or perhaps a fresh burst of anger, but there was nothing at all.
“Feelin’ a little numb, are you?” Diana asked.
Carmen nodded. “Like I’m hanging in space waiting for . . .” She paused. “I don’t know what, but it feels like it’ll shock the shit out of me when it arrives.”
“It won’t,” Diana told her. “It’s over now, but complete closure takes a while. For me, it was when I realized that I hadn’t thought about Gerald in a whole week.”
“Then I may never have it, because every day something reminds me of him.” Carmen slipped the stack of paper into the envelope and sealed it. “Makes me wonder what he thought when he signed his name.”
“Probably that as soon as he got the final decree, he could rush off to the courthouse and marry that girl.” Joanie covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. That was harsh, wasn’t it?”
“Life is harsh,” Tootsie said. “But he’s fixin’ to find out the same thing. Being a full-time husband and father isn’t easy. I remember when Smokey got out of the service. It took