there’s still a small mark.” She had paused, and added, “Just like last month.”
Alice had bristled at the idea of the woman monitoring her “monthlies.” She had the sudden sensation of half the town discussing her apparent failure to fall pregnant. It couldn’t be Bennett’s fault, of course. Not their baseball champ. Not their golden boy.
“You know, my cousin—the one over at Berea—she couldn’t fall pregnant for love nor money. I swear her husband was at her like a dog. She went to one of the snake-handling churches—Pastor, I know you disapprove but hear me out. They put a Green Garter around her neck and she was with child the very next week. My cousin said the baby has eyes as gold as a copperhead’s. But then she always was the imaginative type.”
“My aunt Lola was the same. Her pastor had the whole congregation praying for God to fill her womb. Took them a year, but they got five children now.”
“Please don’t feel obliged to do the same,” said Alice.
“I think it’s all this riding the girl is doing. It’s no good for a woman to sit astride all day. Dr. Freeman says it jiggles up a lady’s insides.”
“Well, yes, I do believe I’ve read as much.”
Mr. Van Cleve picked up his saltshaker and waggled it between his fingers. “It’s like if you shake a jar of milk up too much, it turns sour. Curdles, if you like.”
“My insides are not curdled, thank you,” Alice said stiffly, then added, after a moment, “But I would be very interested to see the article.”
“Article?” said Pastor McIntosh.
“That you mentioned. Where it says a woman shouldn’t ride a horse. For fear of ‘jiggling.’ It’s not a medical term I’m familiar with.”
The two men looked at each other.
Alice dragged her knife across a piece of chicken, not looking up from her plate. “Knowledge is so important, don’t you think? We all say at the library, without facts we really do have nothing. If I’m putting my health at risk by riding a horse, then I think it would be only responsible for me to read the article you’re talking about. Perhaps you could bring it with you next Sunday, Pastor.” She looked up and smiled brightly across the table.
“Well,” said Pastor McIntosh, “I’m not sure I could lay my hands on it just like that.”
“The pastor has a lot of papers,” said Mr. Van Cleve.
“The funny thing is,” Alice continued, waving a fork for emphasis, “in England, nearly all well-brought-up ladies ride. They go out hunting, jumping ditches, fences, all sorts. It’s almost compulsory. And yet they pop out babies with extraordinary efficiency. Even the Royal Family. Pop, pop, pop! Like shelling peas! Do you know how many children Queen Victoria had? And she was always on a horse. They couldn’t pull her off.”
The table had grown quiet.
“Well . . .” said Pastor McIntosh “. . . that is . . . most interesting.”
“It can’t be good for you, though, dear,” said the pastor’s sister, kindly. “I mean, strenuous physical activity is not good for young women at the best of times.”
“Goodness. You’d better tell some of the mountain girls I see every day. Those women are chopping firewood, hoeing vegetable patches, cleaning house for men who are too sick—or too lazy—to get out of bed. And, strangely, they too seem to have all those babies, one after another.”
“Alice,” said Bennett, quietly.
“I can’t imagine too many of them are just floating around, flower-arranging and putting their feet up. Or perhaps they have a different biological makeup. That must be it. Perhaps there’s a medical reason I haven’t heard of for that, too.”
“Alice,” said Bennett, again.
“There is nothing wrong with me,” she whispered angrily. She was furious to hear the tremor in her voice. It was what they had needed. The two older men exchanged kindly looks.
“Oh, don’t you get yourself worked up now. We’re not criticizing you, Alice dear,” said Mr. Van Cleve, reaching across the table and placing his plump hand over hers.
“We understand it can be a disappointment when the Lord doesn’t bless you straight off. But it’s best not to get too emotional about it,” said the pastor. “I’ll say a little prayer for you both when you’re next in church.”
“That’s most kind of you,” said Mr. Van Cleve. “Sometimes a young lady doesn’t always know what’s in her own interests. That’s what we’re here for, Alice, to mind your best interests. Now, Annie, where’s that sweet potato? My gravy’s getting