The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,68
your stomach? You might try some soda crackers if you are.”
I wanted to tell her so badly, but how could I explain that I was afraid to have the babies of such an obviously robust and normal man? The truth seemed like a heavy weight then, and the lies were a gulf between Momma and me. Instead, I blew my nose, wiped my eyes, and took the dress off.
“Evelyn, it’s just the baby coming making you feel this way. Everything’ll be fine.” I laid my head on her shoulder and cried.
Even before we were actually married, the benefits of marriage were evident: gifts and help. Once we announced we were getting married and were going to live on the farm, everybody—particularly the men—began to take the farm seriously as a place to live.
First, Daddy had to be convinced that Adam really wanted to live on the farm. Daddy saw the mill as security, a place where a man could work his way up and get a good retirement, a life less dependent on local rainfall.
Adam pointed out that if Addie and I had been able to run the farm, surely he and I could do better. “Robert,” I overheard him say one day when they were out on the porch, “I promise you, if your daughter is ever close to going without anything, I’ll be down at the mill the next day looking for a steady income. I expect most of our money to come from the horses. Addie made some money with them, and I’ll do the same. Better, I hope. Evelyn and our children will not do without.”
“I’m glad to hear that, son. That’s good to know. You’ll have a family to support.”
They went straight into a discussion of how the farmhouse should be wired for electricity. An ice-box and indoor plumbing were also in the plans. Suddenly, everyone thought it was a pity that I had to go outside to relieve myself, that I washed my clothes in a tub, or lit a lantern at night. Before Adam, it seemed to everyone that we had just been two girls keeping house, waiting for a man to come along. If we had known he’d come with an ice-box and a washing machine, I’m sure we would have found one sooner.
The wedding was simple: the preacher at Momma’s house, the new white dress for me, and a borrowed suit for Adam. Then, after the ceremony, plenty of food set up on sawhorses and boards in Momma’s front yard under the oak tree. Mostly family and a few friends. Cole came with Eloise, now officially his fiancée. Freddie, Marge, and the Sunday-evening picking folks provided the music. Even my strange, aloof cousin Frank contributed by photographing the wedding. Everyone got fed, the men drank, and some of us danced.
Our honeymoon was as simple as our wedding. We got married on Saturday, left right after the wedding, and drove to my cousin Pauline’s place in Florida. Momma took a rare day off on Monday to take care of the chores and Joe took Tuesday.
Pauline had moved to Florida only months before and rented a cottage on Lake Swan, a large, spring-fed pond. The cottage was tiny, only two rooms and a porch.
When we arrived, Pauline announced that she would not interfere with our wedded bliss. She winked and was gone, off to stay with a friend. We were out in the middle of nowhere, miles from Gainesville where she worked. The lake, shallow with a pale, sandy bottom, was clear as drinking water.
We made love that night in the water under a gibbous moon, quietly, with as little motion as possible. “I think I can feel the baby in you. Our tadpole daughter.” He pulled me under as he climaxed, his sweet voice suddenly muffled and shimmering the water above us in the bright distortion of moon. We tumbled through the water, my hair floating around us, his face inches from mine, laughing bubbles.
Later, I stood shoulder-deep in the crystal water as he floated beside me, pale belly, rope of penis, long legs, and, below him, his shadow like an angel on the sand as he waved his arms. I put my hand on my belly, which was still flat, and asked myself the question every expectant mother asks: “Who is this child?” Then there was the other question that I dared not ask out loud: “What is this child?”
Five
Ordinary Life
Being pregnant bonded me to Adam, as it can bond any