Page 13 of All We Thought We Knew
I set the coffee mug down and heaved a heavy sigh.
Something had to change. I couldn’t live week after week, suffering Gertrude’s disapproval and longing for a happy life that would never be mine. As Richard’s widow, I would receive his death benefits, which would be enough for a fresh start somewhere else. But I also knew Gertrude desperately needed financial help to keep the farm running. Richard had joined the Navy to see the world, but he’d also needed a steady income. Every month he sent money home to help keep things afloat. Once his time in the Navy was up, however, he’d hoped to sell the farm—an idea he hadn’t broached with Gertrude.
“When she understands I don’t want the farm,” he’d said. “I’m sure she’ll agree to sell.”
Yet after living with her for seven months, I wasn’t so sure. Gertrude talked of expanding the property once Richard returned home. Of purchasing more horses and breathing life back into things. She dreamed of making the farm what it was before the dark days of the Depression sunk them into debt. The one time I dared to suggest Richard didn’t want the farm, she flew into a rage. I never mentioned it again.
Oh, Richard. What are we supposed to do without you?
As difficult as I found Gertrude, I knew she was grieving the loss of her only child. Richard was full of fun and excitement. He’d swept me off my feet quite literally the night we met at a dance at the USO in Nashville. By the end of our third date, he’d declared he loved me and wanted me to become his wife before he shipped out.
“I’ll be stationed in Hawaii for a year,” he’d said, his green eyes dancing in the brilliant spring sunshine as we held hands and walked around the Parthenon in Centennial Park. “Just think of it, Ava. You can come to the islands as soon as I get our housing approved. We’ll go to the beach every day and drink out of coconuts every night.” Then he’d grabbed me in a tight embrace, twirled me around, and begged me to marry him.
My eyes filled as the bittersweet memory faded.
I’d been a fool to go along with his plan. I may have been infatuated with the handsome sailor, but I knew I wasn’t in love with him. Yet I had no family to speak of and a dead-end job. Richard offered love, stability, and excitement, and I’d embraced it with both arms. Neither of us anticipated the many delays in obtaining housing on base and the need for me to stay in Tullahoma far longer than planned. The last letter I received from him said he hoped to have things worked out by Christmas, promising we’d spend the holiday together. He’d signed itMele Kalikimaka, from your adoring husband.
I stood and moved to look out the window over the sink.
The view never disappointed.
Winter pastures surrounded by white fencing. Tree-covered hills in the distance. Horses grazing on what little they could find. A barn for hay and equipment, and a stable with twenty horse stalls. According to Gertrude, the farm thrived in the old days when people used horses for travel and farmwork. They’d even supplied animals to the Tennessee State Guard horse-mounted cavalry divisions stationed at Camp Peay in the twenties. Sadly, Mr. Delaney died when Richard was a teenager, and he’d taken on the responsibilities that came with running the farm. But raising Tennessee walking horses wasn’t Richard’s dream.
“I want to see the world,” he’d told me on our wedding night, holding me in his arms as we watched the sun set over Nashville from our fifth-floor window in the Maxwell House Hotel. “Being stuck in a small town like Tullahoma was okay when I was a kid, but I’m a married man now. I don’t want my wife mucking out horse stalls all her life.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb, his gaze intense. “As soon as I’m finished with the Navy, you and me will head to New York City or Los Angeles. Someplace exciting.”
It had all sounded so wonderful.
Until it turned into a nightmare.
Floorboards above me squeaked, drawing me out of the past.
Gertrude was awake. She’d be downstairs soon, spouting off a list a mile long of chores that needed tending.
I went to the small refrigerator and took out enough bacon for myself. Gertrude insisted on making her own breakfast despite the many times I’d offered to do so since moving in with her. The fact that she’d never volunteered to make breakfast for me seemed rude at first, but I figured her chilliness would subside as we got to know one another. According to Richard, she was an excellent cook, and he suggested cooking lessons as a marvelous way for us ladies to bond. Unfortunately Gertrude wasn’t interested in bonding with me over cooking or anything else. The morning I surprised her with a ready meal, she unapologetically declared it inedible.
“Overcooked eggs and undercooked sausage,” she’d muttered as she shoved it away.
I’d just cracked two eggs into a skillet of sizzling bacon when she appeared in the kitchen doorway, bundled in a thick sweater over a faded housedress. Wool socks and sturdy shoes completed the ensemble.
“Good morning.” I offered a tight smile. “It’s quite chilly today. Coffee’s ready.”
The eggs snapped and popped, splattering drops of hot grease on the stovetop. I hurried to flip them over, breaking the yokes in the process and causing more flying droplets to dot the stove.
“Your skillet’s too hot.” She scowled. “I’ll have a greasy mess to clean now.”
I turned off the flame. “I’ll clean it.”
She harrumphed and moved to pour a cup of coffee. “We’ve got plenty to do, what with a storm coming. We sure don’t need extra work.”
I scraped my breakfast from the pan onto a plate. The sight almost made me cry.
Overcooked eggs and undercooked bacon.
While I ate the paltry meal, Gertrude prepared fluffy scrambled eggs and perfectly crisp bacon for herself. Knowing cordial conversation would not take place, I opened the morning newspaper. Daniel was good about leaving it on the porch when he came to feed the horses. We were going to miss that young man.
Stories about the war dominated the front page, but I had no interest in reading them. I flipped to the local section and scanned articles about a missing cow and the high price of gasoline.
When I turned the page, my eyes fastened on five bold words in the top left corner.
