There was a man on the radio singing today with the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard. I had been in the middle of dinner, the vegetables all out on the counter half-sliced and the meat stewing steadily in its pot, and I'd had to set down the potato-peeler, lean back against the island, and just stand there and listen until his smooth voice slid from the air. The sunlight shone thin and clear through the windowpane, and the house's emptiness was still and heavy. My eyes glazed over, staring at the birds and the light outside, but my thoughts were somewhere lost.
Once I ran to you…
Now I'll run from you!
This tainted love you've given;
I give you all a boy could give you.
Take my tears and that's not nearly all!
Oh, tainted love…
Tainted love…
As the last note faded into crackles and pops, I stayed where I was. The knife was still in my hands, and I turned its sharp edge over and over in my fingers absently, blinking glassily, listening to the weight of silence on the big old house. I felt I could be just about the only woman in the world.
"Darling, is that you I smell in there?"
The slam of the front door, and Ira's voice and footsteps following, startled me into movement. I snapped up away from the counter, corrected the most unladylike slump into which I had fallen, and returned to the potatoes with a flush in my cheeks. Robert's polished shoes clicked on the kitchen floor as he entered. He peered into the stew pot, his duster over his arm.
"It's that you smell, not me," I said quietly.
"Beef!" He grinned. "A true man's dark meat. You know how to pamper your husband!"
"It's a French dish," I responded. "Brouillon. So - do please forgive me, if you will - I would not imagine it is quite as masculine as one would hope."
"Ah, there is always a catch with this one," Ira said, meaning myself. He stepped forward and took the potato peeler from my hand. I looked up at him in faint confusion; he bent down and kissed my knuckles, eyes sparkling. "I trust it will be delicious either way."
He bustled off to hang his coat and hat, and faint smile twitched at the corner of my lips. With the knife I began slicing the potatoes into rivulets and sliding them in with the meat.
"Where are the children, dear?" Ira asked, returning to the kitchen with the evening edition of Freedom's Knell in hand.
"Out in the yard with Earnestine, inventing a game of some sort." I craned my neck to check on them through the window, squinting against the sunlight. Ira unbuttoned his waistcoat and sat elegantly at the kitchen table, unfolding the paper.
"They like the place? Plenty of nooks and hidey-holes for child's play?"
"They seem very engaged, dear."
"Oh, I am glad. Perhaps we will put in a swingset or something of the sort. If Robert and Julia like, of course."
"You spoil them, Ira!" I teased. "They'll never want to leave their auntie and uncle's if we do that."
"Why shouldn't I?" Ira chuckled down at the paper. "This house gets so awfully empty without a few tykes running around. In any circumstance, we aught to think that if Robert and Julia enjoy the place, ours will too, soon."
I smiled thinly at the onion I was peeling. "We aught."
There was a slam, a shout of laughter, and the pound of heavy little footsteps as the two small ones crashed through the back boor and barreled into the kitchen. Julia sprinted around the island, cheeks rosy, breath short; Robert was hot on her heels, his hand outstretched, just barely brushing her braid with the tip of his finger. Ira rose from his seat as I leapt out of their way, shocked, and clutched the countertop. With a straight spine and a fire in his eyes, he stomped forward immediately and caught the back of Robert's waistcoat. The little thing was choked back with a yelp, his collar restricting his breath, little legs still pumping for a moment in midair. His sister slowed to a stop around the other side of the counter, peeking fearfully up at Ira as he drew himself up to full, imposing height. I knew they feared the scold that was building.
"What on earth is the meaning of this?" He boomed powerfully, and the two shrunk back, eyes on the floor. "Running around the house like little heathen children, tracking mud from out-of-doors! Why, I would never have expected such from two dignified white children! If I didn't know better I'd say you were two little beasts, stomping around with such utter disregard for propriety! Your parents taught you better!"
"We're sorry, Uncle Ira," Julia whimpered, her face half obscured behind the counter.
"Come out here where I can see you, Julia! Come and show me your face!" He gave her no time to react, but instead stepped behind and yanked her by the braid out into the open, her howling, her brother watching with wide-eyed terror. I seemed frozen where I stood, one hand steadying myself at the counter.
"Dirty!" Ira exclaimed, letting her loose with a yowl. "Look at the both of you, covered in your own sweat. Be grateful you've not yet changed into your dinner clothes, or I'd put the both of you up with naught to eat but scraps! Don't you dare look at me while I am scolding you - put your eyes to the floor, the both of you!"
"We're sorry, Uncle Ira, it won't happen again," Robert parroted, lowering his head.
"It had better not."
The firmness of my own voice surprised me as much as it did Ira. He looked up at me as if he had just remembered my presence. He was puffing heavily, his whole body tense with anger; but as I stepped forward, he pushed out a steadying breath. I placed my hands behind my back. "Children, we will do better to remember in the future, won't we?" I said sternly.
"Yes, Aunt Josephine," they recited together.
Earnestine came wheezing into the kitchen, her arthritic fist gnarled around the carved head of her cane, which clunked authoritatively against the wooden floorboards.
"Children! Herkommen!" She rasped, accent thick and German and terrifying. Mortified, the children obeyed. They bowed their heads as - wham! - the cane raised and struck each once on the shoulder, hard. Julia's eyes began to water.
Her scolding finished - she was a woman of few words - Earnestine turned to the side and hobbled past them, out through the kitchen and into the adjoining dining room. With Ira's assistance, she lowered herself into the carved, cushioned chair at the head of the table. "Monstrous," I heard her mutter.
An uneasy silence fell about the kitchen; I was left alone with the two children.
"I hope you've learned your lesson, now," I said sternly, but with a softer digression. "Now go upstairs and change for dinner. Your parents will be here soon."
With tight lips and wide eyes, they scurried off immediately through the hall and up the stairs. They went as fast as they could possibly go without quickening to a run.
"How is dinner coming alone, Josephine?" called Ira's lofty voice from the dining room.
I turned back to my stew. The meat had overcooked, but I could always drown it in more sauce.
"Fierce discipline raises boys into men, so says the Prophet," said my sister-in-law as we sat down for supper an hour later. She and her husband had returned from their bible study group, and Earnestine had wasted no time at all in filling them in on their children's' misbehavior. "Thank you, Ira, for stepping in where William surely would have. It won't do at all to have our dear ones running around like little Irish heathens, will it, children?"
"No, mother," they mumbled.
"Don't push at your food with your fork so, either of you. You mustn't mope, and you certainly mustn't mope at the expense of your manners!" she prodded sternly. They straightened their backs. "Really, Ira, Josephine, William and I are ever so grateful to you for looking after the children and mother as you do."
"It's really our pleasure, Carole," Ira said warmly, rubbing his hands on his napkin as the serving girl ladled more stew into his bowl. "The children seem to love visiting so much that they seem to have a bit of difficulty containing their playful nature - that's all, isn't it, children?"
They nodded obediently.
"I could have looked after them myself," Earnestine grumbled.
"Of course you could have, mother; but the children love their aunt and uncle so
"And I must say, Josephine, this stew is quite exceptional," William complimented; Ira nodded in agreement.
"By your own hand, Josephine?" Carole asked incredulously.
"Indeed it was," I answered with a small, gracious smile. "I find it therapeutic on occasion."
"A woman yearns for the kitchen from time to time," Ira said genially, "even if she has hands to do it for her. It's in her blood, I suppose!"
The table laughed. "It's true!" cried Carole.
"How was your bible study, Carole?" I asked her.
"Illuminating as it always is, Josephine, dear!" she said, her eyes lighting up. "Pastor Greenemore gave an absolutely transcendental interpretation of the passage in which Father Washington crosses the Delaware…"
It had been a long, hot day, and her excited chatter began to fade into the hazy summer heat. I found my thoughts drifting up and out the open window behind which verdant leaves and dying sunlight stretched expectantly. The women and I lifted our fans to our faces several times as the courses were served, trying to coax the sweat from our faces. The table seemed to spin with the movements of the serving girl, a thin-faced, expressionless, black little thing, whose eyes seemed round and dead.
We bid goodbye to Carole, William, and Earnestine after the men had finished with their cigars and brandy. It was dark by then, and the cicadas were humming in the thick air as they stepped onto their gondola and disappeared into the purple clouds. Ira held me at my elbow as we ascended the porch steps and entered our big house, empty and silent once more. The nighttime darkness added yet another dimension to the gloom. Ira set about lighting the gas lamps, and I went upstairs to prepare for bed. He would retire to his study for an hour or so, and then come to join me. I waited up for him, entertaining myself with a book, but my eyes began to shift over the words after a time. I was grateful when Ira shuffled up the stairs, yawning uncovered. It caused me to smile, embarrassing as it is to admit, to glimpse such an endearing little slip in his façade of politesse. He left to the closet to change into his nightclothes, and when he returned, bypassed his own bed to sit at the edge of mine.
"How is my sweet wife this evening? What is she reading?"
"A work of Madame Lutece's," I said, placing a marker daintily between the pages. "I haven't the foggiest idea why I felt inclined to purchase it; it's dreadfully boring."
"Why, to lull yourself to sleep, I would imagine!" Ira's eyes twinkled.
A smile crept onto my face. "She utilizes so many scientific terms that it seems to have morphed into her own vernacular."
"You oughtn't put such stress on your mind, Josephine, especially before bed."
"Oh, I don't know. I suppose it's a good thing to try and understand. Without all of this, after all, we both would drop straight out of the sky."
"True, but you, my dear, don't have to worry about any of that troubling trifle. All you need to do is stay here, with me, and continue to be the vision that you are."
Ira reached up and beheld the curve of my jaw between his thumb and forefinger. I lifted my neck, shying away from his gaze, a blush spreading across my cheeks.
"You flatter me, Ira."
"Why so shy tonight, darling? Come, turn your head this way. I want to look into your eyes."
I looked at him. I held his burning, expectant gaze dully. My lids were weighted and belligerent; they closed and opened slowly against my own will. Ira tilted his head, a crease appearing between his brow, and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Was it something I said earlier? Was it the way I handled the children?"
I blinked. I had not expected him to be so attuned. "No," I said slowly. "No, darling. Not quite."
Ira shifted his position on the bed. "Well then, darling, do explain to me," he said; there was genuine concern in his tone. I squirmed under its pressure.
"I suppose it was merely the thought of reprimanding our own children," I continued in stilted speech. "That's all. Just a silly thought. You had said something about the future our own family just before Robert and Julia burst in, and I suppose it had been on my mind…"
Bizarrely, Ira smiled. "Is that all? Well, of course no parent loves to punish his child! But you know it must be done, Josephine; of course you do," He said matter-of-factly, as if those brief words had solved it.
"It was only a silly thought," I repeated. "It is so strange to speak of my own children… to speak of having my own children, even if they have not yet been born, even if I know it must happen one day."
The look of shock on Ira's face felt like a block of ice slithering down my gullet. Cursing my mistake, I launched into a hasty amend: "I am excited for it! I am, I am; I will love them and I will cherish them. Oh, Ira, I do hope that was not unmotherly of me to say…"
I bowed my head, brow furrowed, and was surprised to find myself close to tears; I did not know from whence this emotion had so suddenly found its spring. Ira moved closer to me on the bed and wrapped me up in his arms.
"Josephine, Josie, dearest. Look at me," he said bracingly. I met his gaze. "These silly thoughts - only a young wife's reservations. You will learn to grow out of them in time."
I blinked up at him, and for some reason, I sensed something inevitable in the look he gave me. He took his hand in mine, and I twisted the wedding band on his finger, looking at it in awe. "It seems six days ago I placed this here," I said weakly, "not six months."
"Happiness rushes time," Ira said with a small smile. He lifted my chin up again with his free hand, a little forcefully, and looked into my eyes once more. They were very, very blue, his eyes; but with they had a dangerous, firework sparkle.
"Yes," I said quietly. "We are very happy."
"Our family is going to be very happy."
"Yes," I said; but he was already pressing his lips to my forehead. It was such a feeble whisper, though, that even if he had been listening for it, I doubt he would have heard.