Chapter Fifty

Doc was invited to noon dinner and he was still chuckling as they all walked back to the boarding house. At the dinner table he sat in the chair normally occupied by Taffey Boyd, the saloon hostess generally slept till mid afternoon on Sundays. It took her that long to recover from a Long Branch Saturday night.

The church service was the main topic of conversation as Ma served roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and fresh snap peas. She sat down and after saying the blessing over the meal, began, "of course it ain't right … laughing like that right in God's presence. Can't imagine what the rest of the congregation thought of your shenanigans Mr. and Mrs. Dillon." Ma scolded.

"You were laughing right along with us." Matt countered.

From the far end of the table, Grandma Heitzer asked, "Well, what I'd like to know is what all the carrying on was about. Just so's I can explain to the good Lord when he gives me the 'what for' at the pearly gates."

Matt caught Sydney's eyes and she snorted, coffee spraying out in front of her in a most improper manner. A silly smile flirted with his lips at the sight.

"Well?" Doc question too.

It was almost painful to keep from laughing, he spoke slowly his grin widening with each word, "I … had … my … big foot … on the hem … of her … ", and then he lost it and the whole table erupted and even the town doctor couldn't prevent the contagious laughter.

When the merriment died down, Grandpa Heitzer declared, still chuckling, "Why that ain't even funny." It was a cheerful meal, with a lot of giggles and even those every day things, like passing the rolls, or dishing up potatoes, seemed to take on a happy note.

That ended when Matt stood to excuse himself. "I have to relieve Festus at the jail house," he said getting up from the table. "Mighty fine meal Ma, thank you."

"Well, you ain't even had your dessert yet, and I made it special for you. Apple pie …"

"Sorry Ma, but maybe there will be a piece left for me in the ice box tonight?"

"Not likely." Ma advised crankily.

He laid a hand on his wife's shoulder, "Sydney, I'll see you later."

"Take care Matthew." She responded, glancing up at him with a friendly face.

A pall settled over the table as he started heading toward the door. Matilda jumped up from her chair and ran after him. "Matt Dillon." She called as his hand turned the knob on the screen door.

He stopped to look down at her, "I thought I was 'daddy' now."

Her blue eyes were icy, "You are when I like you."

"Oh, and when you don't I'm back to being Matt Dillon?"

"Yup."

"Well, at least that's better than doody-head."

She scowled, "That's for when I'm real mad at you."

"I'm glad you told me, it'll give me some warning." He took her hand and gently pulled her to Ma's porch swing. "Come on, Festus can wait for his dinner a little longer, sit down, tell me what's wrong."

"It's just that," disappointment edged her voice.

"What?" He prodded.

She heaved a huge sigh for one so small, "I thought we were going to spend the day together, like a family."

"Mattie, there's nothing I'd like better than to spend the day with you, but I have a job and I have to do it. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized it was the standard reply he'd oft given to Kitty.

She turned her back to him and folded her arms across her chest. "Humph" Their relationship balanced on a thread and he could see that precarious position begin to fray.

"Tomorrow, we'll spend the whole day together, I promise, the three of us, you and me and … your … mother …"

She relaxed a might and turned to look at him, "It sounds funny to call Miss Tuttwell that."

"Yeah, but we'll get used to it." There was a rhythm to their words that kept time with the swing.

She leaned against him and fingered the ribbon of her dress, "If it was Miss Kitty you was married to, I'd call her Mama."

"She would have liked that." The family picture flashed his mind again. "Why didn't you call her that?"

"She told me it was better if I called her Miss Kitty, she said we were in enough trouble with the nuns as it was. But she said someday, I could call her Mama and no one would mind or look at us with cross-eyes."

Matt smiled, but his face had lost its humor.

Matilda continued, "I think she would have learned how to be a good mama."

"Yeah." He managed to get out. He couldn't swallow past the lump in his throat. He pulled his daughter close enough to kiss the top of her curly hair.

She turned her head back to look at his face, "when she was sick - did she ask about me?"

He shook his head, "She got sick real fast. There wasn't time for talking about important things."

"I was important."

"You are very important Mattie."

"You were there, right?" She was toying with the ribbon again.

"What?"

"When she died, you was there with her?"

He couldn't answer right away. Had there been a choice he would have talked about anything but that day, that time. "I was there, and Doc was there … Uncle Festus and Newly were there too." He shut his eyes as the death scene closed in on him. The room was crowded with people and all he wanted was to be left alone with her. But, as was the custom, everyone was standing around waiting for her to draw her last breath.

"Did she talk to Uncle Festus and Uncle Newly?"

"No, she didn't talk to anyone. Ma Smalley and Mrs. Ronniger, they were there too. Bessie just happened to be in town that day." His eyes burned with the memory. Oh Kitty, his mind reeled with the unbidden image. He'd sat next to her bed, holding her limp hand in his, thinking how cold it was, trying in vain to transfer warmth from his hands to hers and instead the deathly cold of her body invaded his own. He'd wanted to grab her in his arms and shake her back to life. He'd wanted to cry out, 'I need you Kitty, I need you, don't do this to me.' He'd wanted to have that last private time together. Maybe he'd have come up with all those words she'd needed him to say over the years, maybe those words would have kept her from leaving him.

The child felt his turmoil and wondered if he could sense her own, "I don't understand. Why did she have to die?"

"I don't understand either."

She'd stopped worrying the ribbon and now laid her hands on her fathers, the swing went back and forth a few times before she asked, "Does she have a pretty fence like Willie does and flowers too? Will you take me to where she's buried?"

He hadn't been to see her grave in weeks. A wave of guilt floated through him. He nodded, "I'll take you."

She smiled, "We can bring some flowers, bet she'd like that, Daddy."

"She would." Kitty always liked to get flowers, and he wished he'd thought to do it more often while she was alive. "One day, you and I will go visit her grave."

He kissed the top of her curly head again, so thankful that at least he had their daughter. His throat ached from unspent emotion. He gave her a squeeze and then stood up leaving the swing swaying in his wake. He left her sitting there and walked with unfaltering stride to the jailhouse and the duty his badge demanded.