When I Last Saw You - Bette Lee Crosby Page 0,15

brush, he’d gone down on one knee and asked her to marry him. A lovestruck woman, Eliza said she’d never wanted anything more in all her life and pressed her lips to his.

A month later, they were married. He took her to Charleston just as promised, but it was a two-room flat on the fourth floor of a building with narrow hallways, strange smells, and the sound of raucous laughter that continued into the wee hours of morning.

While their courtship had been sweet with promise, their marital life was challenging and rough as sandpaper against Eliza’s skin. If Martin had a bad day at work, he brought his grievances home with him and inevitably a cross word escalated into a full-blown battle. He’d complain that she was a terrible cook and a poor excuse for a wife. She’d come right back at him, saying the dingy old apartment was not what he’d promised. For a while it seemed as though the marriage was destined to fail.

Eliza missed Coal Creek, the friends she’d known, the people she’d grown up with, and the church she’d attended. In Charleston she found none of that; there was only Martin and the arguments that seemed to go on forever. On two different occasions Eliza packed her bag and said she was going home to Coal Creek, but both times Martin pleaded with her not to go.

“We’ve gotten off to a rough start,” he said, “but we love each other, and we’ll get through this. Give it time, Eliza, and it will get better. I swear it will.”

In time, her resolve would weaken and she’d grow teary. Then he would lift her into his arms and carry her off to bed.

Oliver was born that first year, and the tiny flat seemed to grow even smaller. With no room for a crib, Eliza emptied a dresser drawer of Martin’s work clothes, padded it with soft cloth, and laid their first child in it. Before Oliver outgrew the drawer, she was pregnant again.

In early December, word came that her mama was sick and Eliza was needed at home. By then the apartment felt almost claustrophobic, so she jumped at the chance.

“It won’t be forever,” she said. “Just until Mama gets on her feet. When you’ve got time off, you’ll come to visit us.”

Weary of listening to Oliver cry and Eliza complain about the apartment, Martin readily agreed. He promised to be there for Christmas and early the next morning bundled Eliza and the baby off to the train station. Once they were gone, he no longer felt the constraints of marriage and spent most of his evenings at the tavern.

Despite his promise, he didn’t make it home for Christmas nor to welcome in the new year. When he finally did arrive back in Coal Creek, Eliza had already given birth to Ben Roland and buried her mama.

By this time, Martin had grown used to coming and going as he pleased, spending evenings at the tavern, and having no one to answer to. To him, this was the best of both worlds. He could enjoy his freedom and still hold onto Eliza. Instead of stating she no longer had ties to Coal Creek and insisting she return to Charleston, he argued for the opposite.

“Let’s keep it this way for a while,” he said. “At least until I’m making enough to get a bigger place where there’s room for the kids.”

It was a lie he told and Eliza eagerly believed. She wanted to be away from Charleston as much as he wanted her to be. In Coal Creek she had friends, and she’d found a peaceful life that was nonexistent elsewhere.

Those first few years, Martin came home every other weekend and at times every weekend. After a week or two apart, they’d fall into each other’s arms and make love with the passion of newlyweds. During the two days he was at home not a cross word was spoken, and it seemed as though their arrangement was the answer to a perfect marriage. While there was not enough time for resentment and petty grievances to build up, there was plenty of time for lovemaking.

As the years rolled by, their family became larger. Dewey came along the following year, then Louella, and after her John Paul. With each new baby, Martin grew less tolerant, quicker to anger, and less inclined to make it home on weekends. When he did make it home, he often spent his time back by the smokehouse

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