UNBROKEN CIRCLES

By J. T. Cooper

UNBROKEN CIRCLES continues the story of the Grant family and their loves, losses, and lives after NIGHTBLOOMING. Stretching from 1915 with the shadow of World War I, through the lively 1920s, and into 1931 when the Great Depression affects nearly everyone, the novel spans an eventful era. Like NIGHTBLOOMING, the saga travels between the small ru

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.T. Cooper
• Release date: Sep 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218054632

J. T. Cooper

J.T. Cooper has always lived in her imagination. As an only child, she invented stories to add to the ones told by family members and the books she devoured. She lives in Kentucky with her husband and a smiling corgi.

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BOOKS BY J. T. COOPER

RUNNING

VIRAL

PLUS: A FANTASY

NIGHTBLOOMING

UNBROKEN CIRCLES

www.jtcooperauthor.com

UNBROKEN CIRCLES

by

J.T. Cooper

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other, except brief quotation in reviews, without the prior permission of the author or publisher.

This is a work of fiction, a product of the author’s imagination.

ISBN 979-8-218-05462-5

September 2022

UNBROKEN CIRCLES

©2022 J. T. Cooper

FICTION / General / 2. / Kentucky. / 3. Family Saga;. / 4. Historical.

Dedicated to the cherished memories of Ida Long McGlosson and Pauline McGlosson Tuttle

Prologue

Christmas, 1915

As she chopped onions into a dishpan full of crumbled cornbread, it struck Garnet Grant Foster Clark that women all over America, no, all over the world, were also making Christmas dinner. That didn’t allow for time zones or heathen countries, and it must be very strange to celebrate Christmas below the equator where it was summer rather than winter, but still and all, this thought gave her a kinship with those other women with hands as busy as hers. She blinked away tears from the onions and rinsed her hands. At least this Christmas she’d have family to celebrate with her. Remembering back five years, when she and Clifford had just moved from Evans County to Lexington, she recalled how lonely it’d been. They’d been happy about the house and alternately scared to death and excited about opening their grocery on the other side of her kitchen door, but it’d been the first Christmas she’d celebrated far from her rural Kentucky home and family.

Opening the oven, she dipped savory broth from the roasting turkey and drizzled it over the dishpan. It was a mighty big pan of dressing, but there would be five people eating it. Garnet tossed the mixture and added sage, pepper, and salt, dumping the lot of it into a pan she managed to fit under the big bird. She glanced at her kitchen table, crowded just with plates and silverware. She’d have to serve from the stove, she reckoned, and she’d have Clifford bring in the chair from his desk. She smiled. Her odd, wonderful husband was out in his beloved Model T collecting her brother Franklin along with his wife Phoebe and their little boy Johnny. It was a joy to see her cantankerous brother happy and settled with a family.

Opening the door into the grocery, Garnet filled her apron with the sweet potatoes her other brother Lowell loved so much and carried them back to the kitchen. She was only two years older than Franklin but seven years older than Lowell and often felt as though she’d raised him. If she’d ever voiced this, Franklin would’ve growled that she did raise Lowell, along with most of her younger siblings and would’ve gone on to make other uncomplimentary comments about their mother. She glanced at the steam-fogged kitchen windows. Lowell was eighteen and had been in college right there in Lexington for two years, studying to be a doctor. Like their father, Lowell was a scholar, graduating from the little school down home in Bethel when he was just sixteen. She was proud of him and knew how pleased her father would’ve been to see the son most resembling him do so well.

She set to peeling the tough skin off the sweet potatoes. There’d be three of Papa’s children here today, but there were three more back in Evans County with her mother and stepfather, Luther Colson. She hoped Mama would bestir herself to make the day special for them. You could never tell with Mama. Louise Grant, now Colson, was a princess, Clifford had always said: a beautiful, willful princess who made sure everything went her way. Sometimes Garnet thought Clifford was being generous in his description. For years Mama’d said nothing but hurtful, ugly things about Lorena Colson, the hired girl who’d dared to fall in love with Mama’s father, Deke, and then, after Papa died and their family was nearly starving, Mama up and married Luther, Lorena’s twin. The hypocrisy and haste of Mama’s remarriage had caused Franklin to run away to Lexington when he was fourteen.

Garnet set down her knife and checked the green beans. Although she’d felt betrayed and abandoned at the time, Franklin’s leaving was probably the best thing he’d ever done. All he’d ever wanted was work with horses, fine horses, and there were none of those in Evans County. He’d found work as a stable hand at a big horse farm outside of Lexington and fallen in love with the trainer’s daughter. Phoebe was already pregnant when Franklin finally persuaded her father that he could be a responsible husband, but it’d worked out. Franklin had been promoted to groom, and Phoebe’s father had persuaded the farm’s owner into letting the couple have a small house at the back of the property. The arrival of little Johnny, a happy, placid baby about as different as he could be from his father, sealed the deal, turning Phoebe’s father into a fond grandpa.

At Franklin and Phoebe’s wedding, Garnet would never have known from observing the girl’s slim pink dress that she was pregnant, but Franklin had confessed. Oh, you know how it is, Sis, he’d said jovially, happy that everything was turning out his way. And she did. Like Franklin, she’d run away from Mama’s scheming by marrying David Foster when she wasn’t but sixteen. David’s idea of lovemaking had been little short of rape, although she’d shunned that ugly word until Clifford named it. And it’d taken Clifford’s patient and gentle instruction to coax desire out of her fears. Garnet smiled at the stove. Her handsome husband had certainly taken care of that problem. How could she fuss at Franklin for finding joy in his shy, pretty wife?

But she couldn’t deny a flicker of envy as well. On Franklin’s wedding day she and Clifford had been married nearly four years with no hint of a baby. When Franklin and Phoebe had started coming over for Sunday dinners, Garnet had watched the girl’s waist swell and made herself swallow jealousy like bitter medicine.

Clifford had noticed. He’d reassured her that their time would come, but she hadn’t believed him. She still didn’t. Now, after six years of marriage, there was no baby. Clifford seemed more injured than depressed about it. They knew she was fertile, had conceived with her first husband, and it no doubt wounded his pride to think he couldn’t father a child.

Garnet continued with the sweet potatoes, her hands sure and rapid as she melted butter in an iron skillet and added the amber wedges. She remembered Christmas seven years ago when she and David Foster were still married, and baby Ruben had chewed on the Christmas blocks David made for him. Their marriage was already desperately troubled with David’s abusive drinking and longings for another woman. Clifford had been her comfort even then. As her father’s friend, he’d watched over her, concerned that David’s careless violence would turn dangerous. Garnet stirred the sweet potatoes and dripped sorghum molasses over them. And it had, she thought, glancing at her left wrist that David had broken along with giving her a concussion and nearly choking her to death. But what had hurt most was when he divorced her. He accused her of adultery, which was untrue, although she had given Clifford her heart if not her body. The shame of the divorce had stung something dreadful. Nearly everyone in Evans County shunned her like she was the whore of Babylon. Worst of all, though, was that David had gained custody of Ruben. Losing her baby was a wound more severe than scorn or a broken bone.

White potatoes, Garnet thought, and headed back to the store. She wasn’t sure which she yearned for more: a new baby or Ruben. It’d been a year and a half before she’d seen Ruben again, nearly Christmas that time too, when she and Lorena had traveled to David’s Aunt Martha’s house to see her baby. David had been there, nasty and ill-tempered as ever, even though he’d been sober. For three years after that unpleasant visit, Garnet had traveled, usually with Clifford, to see the child a few times a year. He came to know her, calling her his mama, and she delighted in the trips, already afraid he was the only child she’d ever have. She took him small gifts, and they played, walking around the bleak dairy farm where he lived with David’s kin. Luckily she’d never seen David there again although his Aunt Martha said he visited his son regularly. For all his other faults, Garnet was certain David loved his son. And then Aunt Martha wrote, nearly two years ago, that David had remarried, a woman from up in Covington where he worked, and they were taking Ruben north to live with them. That was the last she’d heard of her son, and even though those visits had been mere crumbs to her hungry heart, they’d been something.

She tried to be grateful for her blessings. Clifford was a dear and fond husband despite being prone to impetuous whims and an eager target for whatever new gadget was on the market. His sisters had raised him and warned her about his ways while she and Clifford were living with the two old dragons. Much older than their brother, Fanny and Gert had dominated and terrorized Garnet, but they knew their little brother. Actually, the misery of living with the Clark sisters had brought about their move to Lexington and the realization of her dream of owning a store.

Another blessing, she thought. The store was thriving. As their little neighborhood of three streets, Jasper, Catlett, and Hazel, grew, the store did more and more business. Clifford still worked at the bank, but the Clarks’ debts were nearly paid off, and Clifford declared that soon he could quit the bank and devote all his time to the store. She wondered if this would satisfy him. When she’d thought there’d be a child, she knew she’d need his help. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Garnet

One

With a burst of cold air, Clifford called out, I’ve brought Christmas, Garnet! He held open the door and Phoebe, arms full of packages and bags, came into the kitchen.

Are you frozen? Let me get that, Garnet urged, taking some of Phoebe’s bundles.

No, no, the young woman murmured. Riding in Clifford’s auto is so exciting you don’t notice the cold.

Exciting? Well, he certainly drives too fast, Garnet retorted and then winked at her husband over Phoebe’s head. He grinned, his lean cheeks folding into repeated parentheses. She never tired of looking at his face.

I brought you a boy, Franklin said, holding a box in one hand and Johnny’s hand with his other. After so many years of wearing a perpetual scowl, her brother looked happy and healthy, smiling broadly under his thick, dark moustache.

Garnet stooped to the child’s level. Merry Christmas, Johnny, she said. Are you going to eat a drumstick and pull a wishbone?

He nodded shyly, soft brown eyes like his mother’s glancing around the room. Garnet touched his cool cheek. Well, let’s get you out of your coat. Did you like Uncle Clifford’s Model T?

The boy nodded and whispered, Vroom, vroom.

Clifford took off his hat, running his bony hand through thick, dark hair. I think boys are born making noises. In my time we imitated horses and wagons, and now they mimic autos.

I don’t, Franklin grinned. I’m still making horse noises. Right, Johnny? With this he gave a loud neigh and scooped up his son, making him giggle. 

Lingering behind, Clifford pressed against Garnet, standing at the stove overseeing her kettles and pots, and kissed her neck. He smelled of cold and gasoline. Merry Christmas, dear heart. Isn’t it glorious to have family here?

She turned her head to smile up at him. Yes, except Lowell had better arrive soon. It won’t be more than a half hour before this is ready.

Clifford sniffed the kitchen aromas appreciatively. I offered to pick him up.

He insisted the streetcars would be running, and he’d get here on his own. When Lowell had first come to Lexington, he’d lived with them, and she’d enjoyed it even though he was rarely there except to sleep. He’d decided, however, to get a room closer to the hospital. Luther, Lorena, and Garnet all contributed to Lowell’s tuition and living expenses, but he was frugal, choosing a small and, in Garnet’s opinion, unpleasant room. When he came to eat with them, maybe once a month, she stuffed him full of food and thrust more of it in his hands to take back to his grim lodgings. She thought he worked too hard, but he always said he was obliged to all of them to do well and become a doctor as soon as possible.

Well, he’ll have another means of transport home, won’t he? Clifford beamed. It seemed like every Christmas there was one secret better than the rest. This year it was Lowell’s gift, still hidden upstairs.

Hands flying, she finished up dinner. This was the difficult part, making sure all the many dishes came together at the same time. As she slipped bread into the oven, she heard the front door slam and Johnny’s high squeal as his Uncle Lowell appeared. Children loved her brother. He had even made their willful little sister Violet behave when no one else could. Arms full of Johnny, Lowell appeared in the kitchen. Merry Christmas, Nettie. Sorry I’m so late.

Garnet raised her brow. Mm hmm. Studying on Christmas?

Lowell grinned around Johnny’s chubby arm that was busily exploring his coat pockets. Sometimes Uncle Lowell hid candy there. No, I was sleeping. I worked with a patient until three this morning. He lifted the child towards the ceiling. There’s not a thing in my pockets, Master John, but I bet Aunt Garnet’s made a blackberry jam cake and I’ll cut you the biggest piece.

Johnny giggled and Garnet shooed them out. In a frenzied burst of activity she finished, called the family, and served them. Clifford said grace, and they set to eating with holiday abandon. As usual, after fiddling with food all morning, Garnet wasn’t hungry, but she watched fondly as her family devoured the feast.  Lorena always said she felt the same way, that she enjoyed the food later, after she’d recovered from the cooking. Although she’d just seen Lorena a few weeks ago when she accompanied Luther on his annual trip to bring the tobacco crop to Lexington, Garnet missed the woman. Lorena was more of a mother than Louise had ever been, to all of them. After Grandpa married Lorena, Mama had decreed that none of them could have anything to do with either Grandpa or Lorena, but Garnet and her brothers had sneaked to see their beloved grandfather and strike up an affectionate friendship with Lorena.

Lowell, tucking into his beloved sweet potatoes, seemed to be reading her mind. I suppose you all received a Christmas letter from Lorena. 

Clifford grinned and nodded. I’m perpetually astonished that you taught her to read and write, Lowell, especially at her age.

Brushing back a lock of dark hair from his forehead, Lowell smiled. It was easy once she finally decided to do it. While she was struggling, though, her language was bad enough to turn the air blue. I made sure the little ones stayed home.

Franklin laughed and asked Garnet for more turkey. She says she keeps all the farm records now. She was bragging that she writes a better hand than Luther.

From the stove, Garnet commented, Well, he didn’t have much schooling either, did he? Didn’t Grandpa teach him most of what he knows?

Franklin said this was so, that Deke had planned that Luther would run the farm someday. Grandpa decided early on that he’d leave the farm to Lorena and figured Luther would stick around to help her with it.

They laughed, ate, talked. Eventually there were groans about full bellies, but nobody hurried to leave the table. By next year, Johnny would probably be impatient to rush to those enticing packages under the tree, but he hadn’t quite grasped the idea of presents yet and was content to sit on his Uncle Lowell’s lap.

Uncharacteristically quiet throughout dinner, Clifford spoke up. Since we’re all here together, I suppose this is an opportune time to make an announcement.

Garnet had no idea what Clifford was up to, but over the years she’d become accustomed to his surprises. They usually involved expenditures. This could be considered a Christmas gift of sorts for my sweet wife, I suppose, but it’s an achievement, a realization of a goal as well.

He did tend to talk, her Clifford. Finally, after a solemn and lengthy preface, Clifford reached for her hand and announced, This past week I made arrangements for the enlargement of our house. We’ll be building onto the back and adding a new kitchen, a fully equipped bathroom, and a sewing room, complete with plumbing and, he paused, electricity!

The others murmured appreciatively, and Garnet squeezed her husband’s hand. This was a surprise, although they’d often dreamed about enlarging the house and adding utilities that were now available in their neighborhood. She was delighted but wondered about the cost. Clifford never worried about debt, and, truly, they’d never come close to succumbing to the dire straits Garnet predicted. But the plan had been for Clifford to quit his job at the bank when they were finally clear of debt. This addition would certainly cause more debts and delay.

Clifford broke into her thoughts. Now I could have announced today that I was retiring from my position at the bank since all our debts have been cleared; however, I will continue to work until late fall to finance this renovation, and then we’ll be set for the future. Grinning, Garnet kissed his cheek.

That’s great progress, Clifford, Lowell declared. He looked down at Johnny. I suppose I have an announcement as well. This has been in the works for several weeks and it’ll take several more for it to happen, but I’m joining a medical team from Canada, along with my surgical instructor, and we’re leaving in April for France to help with war casualties.

Lowell’s words silenced the table until Franklin said, But this isn’t our war.

Lowell looked so young, his face thin and pale from long hours of studying and work. It will be. 

No, no. Wilson’s set on neutrality, Franklin protested.

Lowell shook his head. We can’t stay out of it forever. It’s a bloodbath. A whole generation of young men is dying.

But you needn’t be one of them, Garnet argued. Those aren’t our boys.

He smiled gently, her sweet, soft-hearted little brother. Does it matter? Doctors heal people regardless of their nationality. He smiled to take the sting out. I’ll bring you girls some French perfume when I come home. 

Phoebe frowned. How long will you stay? Won’t this delay your training?

I signed on for a year. And I’m already two years younger than everyone in my class. Guess I need to grow a moustache like you, Franklin; all my patients insist I’m too young to work on them.

Clifford looked pensive. Lowell’s right, you know. We’ll be in it before long.

Wilson says we’ll stay out of it, Franklin repeated. "He got the Germans to back down after the Lusitania."

Temporarily, Clifford replied. I’d love to say that we’ll enter the war to stem the bloodletting, but economics determines policy more than humanitarianism. If trade is interrupted, we’ll enter the war.

Franklin shook his head, sure Clifford was wrong, but Garnet trusted her husband’s opinions. He read two or three newspapers every day and worked with bankers who tended to have a wider view of the world than Franklin’s horses. Perhaps this was for the best. Maybe if Lowell went as part of a medical team he wouldn’t have to go later as a soldier. Johnny was getting restless, and Phoebe started stacking dirty plates. She quit, however, when Franklin said, I reckon Phoebe and I have some news too.

Everyone waited. Phoebe’s soft face tightened.

It looks like Johnny’ll be getting himself a baby sister or brother along about June, Franklin declared.

Clifford and Lowell looked quickly at Garnet, not Phoebe or Franklin. Her fingers clutched the edge of the lace tablecloth so tightly she felt a thread snap. Why, that’s wonderful news. She hid the brittle tone of her voice with a wide smile.

Phoebe nodded, smiling at Garnet, but her eyes were anxious. Only Franklin seemed unaware of the awkwardness, and, clumsy as he was, Garnet was glad he wasn’t tiptoeing around the subject. She was barren, not insane or dying. Indeed, it is, Clifford agreed heartily. Under the table she felt his warm hand groping to clasp hers, and although it was well-meant, this annoyed her.

And you’re feeling well, Phoebe? Lowell asked.

Phoebe blushed. Yes, for the most part.

Garnet rose. I’d best start on these dishes or we won’t open presents until New Year’s.

Chairs scraped back, and Phoebe stood quickly to help. The men again complimented the meal and took Johnny off to the front room. Instantly the kitchen was quiet, and Garnet hoped Phoebe wouldn’t apologize or sympathize. The two women settled to their work, speaking of ordinary things: the moistness of the turkey, recipes, Lorena’s new spectacles. Phoebe held a dripping plate and murmured, Lowell’s going isn’t so very different from when Franklin left home for Lexington, is it? I think men have to go off and try things.

Quite a bit farther away. Garnet retorted although she was relieved that Phoebe was speaking of Lowell rather than babies. I guess Franklin wanted to try his wings, but he really left because he was so angry. You know that story.

But it turned out for the best, didn’t it? Luther’s a good stepfather to you all, and he still helps Lorena run the farm. It seems like you’ve all made your peace with it, except Franklin. She turned to Garnet. Do you realize we’ve been married for three years, and I’ve never met Franklin’s other sisters and brother, let alone his mother? He won’t hear of visiting his people.

Garnet shrugged as she dried silverware. I was upset at the time too: so upset that I rushed right into that terrible marriage. But, and she paused with a fork in her hand until Phoebe looked at her. I wonder now why we were so emotional. Yes, Mama was using Luther, but things were desperate, worse than Franklin realized since he’d been living at the farm for several years by then. Phoebe’s words carried her back to memories of Papa’s death, poverty, and Mama’s conniving. He’d smack me if I said it, Garnet went on, but Franklin and Mama are a lot alike. She’s held her grudge against Lorena for better than thirty years now, and it looks as if Franklin’s going to do the same with Mama.

Reaching for the last of the dirty bowls, Phoebe asked, You and Clifford go back every fall, don’t you?

We’ve gone the past two years since Lowell has been in town to watch the store for a weekend. But Clifford’s sisters live just outside of Ashton, and we visit them as much as we see my family. With the store tying us down, once a year is the best we can do. Mama tries to act like she doesn’t care whether I come down there or not, but she always has a million questions about Lowell and Franklin. And you and Johnny too.

Phoebe’s face lit up. Really? I don’t really care for myself; my family lives just down the road and we’re close. But I can’t help but wonder if Franklin minds not having much of his kin around. Of course, you and Clifford and Lowell are so good to us, and we love seeing Luther and Lorena, but I’d hate to think that Franklin’s mother doesn’t care a thing about him or his child.

She probably doesn’t, Garnet thought, except out of curiosity, although she wasn’t about to admit this to sweet-natured Phoebe. Determined to get past all the touchiness about her childlessness, she said, And now that brother of mine is going to be a papa again.

Phoebe ducked her head. I pray for you Garnet. Every night I pray that you and Clifford will have a child.

Before she could stop the words, Garnet blurted out, God might just be the problem.

Phoebe’s eyes widened.

Most churches would say I’m living in adultery with Clifford, since I’m divorced, and God’s not going to bless a sinful union.

She’d never voiced this theory and knew Clifford would tear it to bits if he heard it. Still, late at night, while Clifford slept and the house was quiet, she tried to find logic in an illogical situation. God must be punishing her.

Concentrating on the dishwater, Phoebe shook her head. I don’t think God works that way. I don’t think we’re punished or rewarded for every little thing we do or say, at least not in this life. Glancing up, she lifted the first of the kettles into the water.  Besides, you weren’t to blame. You didn’t cause David’s drinking or running around, and you certainly didn’t make him beat you half to death. He’s an evil man, and I reckon he’ll get his punishment someday, but not you. Don’t think like that.

Garnet shrugged, not really comforted by Phoebe’s words. She supposed she needed to make peace with her childlessness, but underneath her feigned acceptance with Clifford and her polite responses to Phoebe, she harbored thoughts she didn’t quite want to release. Relinquishing the bitterness looked like giving up hope.

Clifford appeared in the kitchen and asked, How are you two doing with the Herculean task? Are you nearly finished?

Just about, Phoebe replied.

As soon as you two can keep Lowell occupied, I need to go upstairs and retrieve something, he replied, squeezing his hands together.

It won’t be but a few more minutes, Garnet told him, trading her sodden tea towel for a fresh one. Move Johnny’s gifts to the front so he can open his first.

Lowell’s already done that, ma’am. We’re waiting on you.

By the time Phoebe and Garnet had shed their aprons and gone into the front room, Clifford and Franklin were nearly wriggling with impatience. Clifford disappeared, and Lowell situated Johnny on the floor, near the tree. At first he was hesitant, but then he tore into tissue paper with abandon and uncovered wondrous things: a tin train from Uncle Clifford and Aunt Garnet, a garishly colored top from Uncle Lowell, an alphabet book from Lorena, and the usual socks and mittens made or purchased by one relative or another. Clifford returned, winking broadly at Garnet, and exclaimed over Johnny’s treasures, urging the others to start unwrapping their gifts. Garnet chided herself for her earlier crankiness. No, it wasn’t enough, but it was plenty, she thought. Family, warmth, wealth enough for food and luxuries: it was certainly plenty.

Holding up a scarf nearly the deep blue of his eyes, Lowell praised Phoebe’s knitting skills. Clifford opened a similar one in deep burgundy, and Garnet fingered the fringe of her ivory one. Such fine work, she murmured to Phoebe who blushed and smiled, thanking Lowell for a box of linen handkerchiefs. Lowell tried so hard to live frugally that he’d probably gone without food to buy gifts.

Remember when Mattie Lawrence used to give you oranges as a Christmas present, Sis? Franklin asked, holding up the bag of sunshiny fruit Garnet had made for him and his family.

I do, Garnet replied. I was the one working in her store, but most times she paid me with food for the family or toys for Lowell and Violet.

Lowell immediately started imitating the storekeeper from Bethel, nodding his head and improvising the way she’d click her false teeth. Now if you children would get your little bottoms in church, you wouldn’t act like such heathens, he mimicked. They laughed hard and long.

Garnet opened a box from Clifford containing three pairs of deliciously sheer silk stockings and another that held lavender-scented soaps from England. Tucked under the soaps was a slip of paper with a note: For your new bathtub! Obviously he’d intended all along to announce the renovations for the house at Christmas dinner. Although she was completely pleased with his gifts, these were modest by Clifford’s standards. Maybe he was being judicious in his spending since such large expenses loomed, but she doubted it. He had something else up his sleeve, she’d bet.

Clifford disappeared again. Lowell was showing Johnny how to operate his top and didn’t seem at all disappointed at the small stack of gifts by his chair. Loudly clearing his throat from the doorway, Clifford rolled a shiny, new bicycle into the room.  As far as I can tell, Lowell, Santa brought this machine for you, he announced.

At first Lowell looked confused and then rose to touch the gleaming metal. It’s too much, he murmured, lowering his head until his dark hair fell over his forehead.

Franklin boomed, Now you can ride to the hospital in style, little brother.

Lowell looked up, shaking his head and repeating, You all do too much.

It’s from all of us, Garnet said. And Luther and Lorena too. Clifford and I picked it out while they were here. I hope it’s the style you want.

Lowell nodded, running his finger along the seat, touching the tires.

Clifford smiled at him benevolently. I managed to worm out of you that you knew how to ride one. You said your friend let you ride his a few times.

All but speechless, Lowell nodded again. It would make his life so much easier, Garnet thought. And he would save money on streetcar fares when he came to visit or help in the store. Lowell finally murmured, Yes, I can ride a bicycle.

I don’t reckon there’s much to it, Franklin declared. 

Clifford winced. More than you’d think. I gave it a try.

And about broke his neck, Garnet said.

Johnny was intrigued, leaving his toys to examine Uncle Lowell’s new plaything. While Clifford held the bike, Lowell placed the child on the seat. Your legs need to be, oh, about two feet longer, Johnny, he said.

While the others admired the bicycle, Garnet, suddenly tired, went over by the tree and dropped into an armchair. She watched the men, drawn by the bicycle in much the same way Clifford’s Model T or their new telephone, acquired over the summer, enticed them. Boys and their toys, she mused. Franklin was stroking his moustache as Papa used to do. Two or three inches taller than his brother and built like a willow rather than an oak, Lowell bent to show his brother the brakes. And towering over both Grant men by at least five inches, Clifford explained the features of the bicycle, his mobile face registering joy, good-humor, and intelligence. She supposed she should offer to cut the jam cake now they were done opening presents, and she’d just about opened her mouth to do so when she heard a soft tapping on the front door. With all the hubbub, she seemed to be the only one who’d heard it. Garnet wondered who on earth could be visiting on Christmas afternoon.

Standing several feet away from the door, nearly to the street where his truck was idling, was her first husband, David Foster. And nearer the door, looking up tentatively and mumbling, Mama? was their son Ruben.

David fingered his cap. I brought your boy for Christmas. I hope that’s all right.

Pulse racing, Garnet touched Ruben’s cheek and glanced nervously back into the front room. She found Phoebe’s eyes first. Maybe not Lowell, but Franklin and Clifford would be ready to make David bleed on the porch. Phoebe peered around Garnet and figured it out, rising to go take Franklin’s arm.

My stars, had David driven all the way from Covington? Certainly it’s all right, Garnet said, her voice shaky. Merry Christmas, Ruben.

David thrust his hands in his pockets. I’ll fetch him in a couple of hours if that suits you. As he left, he said, We moved to Lexington a few weeks back.

Her heart soared. Ruben was nearby, closer than that dreary farm or a faraway city. Unaware that Clifford was standing behind her, she nodded at David, hardly noticing him for looking at her child. He was taller, of course, and a full-fledged boy now, seven years old, but she had to resist every urge inside her not to scoop him into a smothering hug. Do you remember us, Ruben? she asked, trying to keep her voice even. You remember Clifford, don’t you?

It had been more than two years since she’d seen him, but the boy nodded, his big blue eyes intent and serious. Sure, Mama, I remember you and Clifford.

By the bicycle, Lowell smiled at the boy. And that’s your Uncle Lowell with his brand-new bicycle, and here’s your Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Franklin. You’ve never met them.

Franklin was glowering but quiet, Phoebe holding tightly to his arm. Merry Christmas, Ruben, he said gruffly.

And this is your cousin Johnny, Ruben. He’s two years old.

Ruben flickered a smile at the baby and immediately hunkered down near his toys. Say, you got a train for Christmas, didn’t you? I love trains.

Johnny fastened his eyes on his cousin, totally absorbed by his attention and ready to make him his hero. Lowering himself to the floor, Ruben started naming all the cars and pushing the train around the mounds of tissue paper. Clifford hovered over the pair, but the boys ignored him. Would you like to take your jacket off? he asked.

Ruben started unbuttoning and wriggling out of his coat. Oh, I almost forgot, Mama, he said as he dug into a pocket. Mama Ginny said I was to give this to you. And he handed Garnet a photograph of himself dressed up and looking far too serious.

Garnet was thrilled enough to hear him call her Mama, but she took the photo like it was a casket of gold. The boy looked up at Clifford and shrugged, man to man, obviously thinking it wasn’t worth the fuss. And she told me to say ….  He paused, scrunching up his face to remember. She said to tell you that Papa has new leaves or something like that. Having done his duty, he turned back to Johnny and the train. At first Garnet and Clifford stared at each other, puzzled by the cryptic message, and then Clifford’s cheeks broke into creases as it dawned on him. Turned over a new leaf, he mouthed to Garnet.

Abruptly she realized that the room was littered with gifts, but there was nothing for her son. Reluctant to leave him even for a minute, she beckoned to Lowell who nodded and took off for the grocery carrying the box Johnny’s top had come in. 

She watched Ruben, sweetly serious with Johnny, and saw that his once-golden curls were now his father’s dusty brown, but his full mouth was still definitely hers, although his adult teeth looked too big for it. His cheeks were thinner, having lost their baby roundness, but he seemed healthy and strong and his clothes fit well and were clean. David’s new wife, this Mama Ginny, must be taking good care of her boy.

When Lowell brought in the hastily assembled and wrapped box, Ruben accepted it and exclaimed politely over the tablets, pencils, oranges, and bright blue suspenders. Mostly though, he was thrilled by the candy, immediately opening a peppermint stick and offering another to Johnny. He must take after you, Lowell, Franklin said, referring to his brother’s eternal sweet tooth.

Ruben didn’t understand this, but he thanked them and said, Papa said there was this cake you used to make every Christmas and that I would really like it.

All the adults laughed, and Ruben looked pleased with himself. Garnet’s heart soared. David had promised he wouldn’t poison the child against her, but she hadn’t put much faith in it. And you can have a piece, Ruben, but I think Uncle Lowell wants to take his bicycle outside and try it out just now.

Pulling on coats, all of them went into the street, watching Lowell ride back and forth. Franklin insisted that it couldn’t be more difficult than riding a turbulent thoroughbred and begged a turn. Phoebe shook her head. Wobbling precariously, Franklin mounted the bike. Ruben shouted, Pedal, Uncle Franklin, pedal hard!

Do you have a bicycle, Ruben? Clifford asked.

No, but when we lived in Covington, a boy down the street let me ride his if I gave him a penny, he replied, watching Franklin. Suddenly he grimaced. Uh, oh.

Franklin had fallen off, and Phoebe started to run to him but, conscious of Franklin’s sense of dignity, stopped herself. Dusting off his pants, he stood. I guess there is a knack to it.

Balance, Lowell replied. And Ruben’s right; the faster you go, the easier it is.

And the harder you fall, Clifford added.

It seemed like no time before Ruben, full of blackberry jam cake and clutching his gifts, was heading to the front door. Again David stood well away, obviously having retreated after he knocked. Garnet stood in the doorway with Franklin and Clifford hovering behind her. She gave Ruben a little squeeze; he was undoubtedly far too grown up for motherly hugs, and David murmured, I’ll bring him the last Sunday of every month if you want me to.

She nodded, nearly afraid to speak. After tidying the front room and gathering their gifts, Franklin, Phoebe, and Johnny left with Clifford, and the house fell quiet.

Knowing my Nettie, you could do with a cup of tea, Lowell said.

"You will keep calling me that, won’t you?" Garnet complained.

Sure. I wouldn’t want you to like me too much. 

They sat at the kitchen table, bare now except for a decorated candle sitting in the center. Neither of them said anything for a while. It’s getting dark. You should’ve let Clifford run you home.

And miss getting to ride my new toy?

Won’t it be dangerous after dark?

Quit fretting.

She was silent, sipping her tea and marveling at the fact that she’d seen Ruben.

He’s a fine boy. Lowell read her mind nearly as well as Lorena did.

Isn’t he?

And maybe that scoundrel is finally being decent about him.

Or his wife is. Mama Ginny.

It says something that she’s Mama Ginny and you’re still Mama.

She’d noticed.

But it’s still not like having one here to hold and love, is it?

She glanced up at her brother, so like Papa. No, it isn’t. But it’s something, and I reckon I’d better get used to it. At least seeing him once a month is better than nothing. Her greedy mind turned to more visits: whole days, spent nights, weeks. Maybe, just maybe, David would give her even more.

Lowell frowned at his cup. We’ve talked about you seeing a doctor. I still think you should do it. I know just the man who might help you.

She tensed. Yes, he’d brought it up before and the idea mortified her. But you also said that, logically speaking, the problem is more than likely Clifford’s, not mine. Not that I’d ever let on to Clifford. . .. 

True, but you never know. This doctor might have some good advice. He might see a problem and fix it.

She shuddered. The very idea of a strange doctor examining her there caused her knees to clamp together.

Lord, Garnet, you aren’t like old Fanny Clark, are you? Scared that some doctor’s going to go off in fits of lust over seeing a naked female limb?

It’s not exactly a limb, she retorted, reddening.

Well, no, but it’s not that special either, for a doctor. I mean we see lots of things. He sounded ever so reasonable, but his cheeks were turning a dull red. Let me set up an appointment for you.

She shook her head. I can’t leave the store.

I’ll watch the store. Lowell tied his new scarf around his neck. Being a little embarrassed is a small price to pay, Nettie, if he can help you.

She stood and kissed his cheek. Maybe. I’ll hold the door for you.

Two

After lighting lamps and poking the fire, Garnet stood by the front room window. Across the street she could see the Byers’ Christmas tree, lit with dozens of candles. Agnes Byer, her best friend, lived there with her druggist husband, Jacob, and three children. From the bottom of the street she heard an automobile. There were only three in the neighborhood, all belonging to people clustered together on Catlett Avenue. Jacob had talked Agnes into one three years ago and was nearly as crazy about his Model T as Clifford. And Jasper Catlett’s fancy Cadillac sat in front of his sprawling house to the left of Garnet’s. As out of place in their neighborhood as diamond rings on a farm hand, Catlett’s car drew envious glances, especially from young boys who dared each other to sneak into Jasper’s yard and touch the shimmering, dark green vehicle. Undoubtedly the car she heard was Clifford’s. It was their second Ford, a 1914 model.

After shedding his topcoat, Clifford joined her on the sofa, holding his long hands to the fire. Are you hungry? she murmured.

Lord, no. He sat back with a sigh. Johnny fell asleep on the trip home.

I’m not surprised.

I can see it now; the whole country will buy cars to get their babies to sleep.        Scrutinizing his thumbnail, Clifford took his time before speaking again. Franklin’s worried about Foster knowing where you live. His face was unusually still. He thinks I should buy you a pistol.

I don’t want a pistol. David won’t hurt me. I’m not in his way now.

Have you forgotten how brutal that bully was? 

No, and I’m not likely to. Sometimes she still dreamed of the night when David came after her, all the while crying because the woman she thought he truly loved had married and left the county. But he’s married to this Ginny now, and Ruben mentioned that David’s working for a lumberyard here in Lexington. He’s probably settled down.

A ghost of a smile crossed Clifford’s face. And he has new leaves.

Oh, isn’t he a wonderful boy!

He is, dear heart, and I’m glad you’ll be able to see him. I suppose you’re right about the pistol. If David wanted to do you harm, he could’ve done it the past few weeks when we didn’t realize he was in town. I’m surprised he landed in Lexington. 

Maybe it was for a better job. Wretch that he is, David’s always been a worker and ambitious with it.

They were quiet again, watching the fire. Garnet’s eyes traveled up to the mantel, swathed with Christmas greenery and festooned with bows. The decorations made her think of Agnes who was more than exuberant about Christmas decorations. They’d be visiting the Byers tomorrow afternoon, and she wondered if Agnes had glanced out her window and seen Ruben while they were watching Lowell show off his bicycle. If so, there’d be questions. When Garnet had learned how Catholics, which the Byers were, felt about divorce, she’d kept quiet about her first marriage and son. Of course, Baptists weren’t very keen on the subject themselves.

You’re very pensive, Clifford murmured, curling his arm around her shoulders.

So much to think about. David and Ruben, Lowell going off to France, Franklin and Phoebe’s new baby. Her voice trailed off as she felt a slight stiffening in his arm.  And then all the plans and excitement about our house.

Ah, yes. We have all sorts of momentous and exhilarating decisions to make, don’t we? He squeezed her into a half-hug. But not tonight. It’s Christmas and you prepared the most sumptuous banquet I’ve had since this time last year. I’m sure you’re exhausted.

She shrugged. If she was tired it had more to do with the revelations and emotions that had hit in continuous waves all afternoon. Clifford stood. And Christmas isn’t over yet, is it? I’ll return shortly.

Not surprised, she waited. As she’d thought, a box of soaps and some silk stockings weren’t all her gifts. Well, she had something else for him too. Sort of. He soon returned bearing a huge box wrapped beautifully in silver paper. My stars, Clifford.  What have you gone and done? she exclaimed.

He beamed and set the package on her lap. The paper was so lovely she hated to tear it. Impatient with her careful efforts to keep it whole, he urged, Just open it.

Inside she found a new coat the color of pale caramel, trimmed with a soft fur collar. Oh, Clifford! she breathed. It was lovely, the finest coat she’d ever owned.

Try it on, he urged. She slipped into it, her arms sliding into the satin lining. It was a perfect fit.

But how did you ever know how to fit me?

He shrugged, enjoying himself immensely. Lorena helped. Remember that day I took her to get her new spectacles? We had a great time finding you a coat. It’s camel hair. And the collar is fox.

Garnet remembered pictures of camels from Papa’s geography book. The idea that such exotic creatures had supplied the fabric for her coat made it that much more incredible. Still wearing it, she piled into his lap, a bulky lump. Thank you, Clifford. You are the dearest man.

He kissed her soundly. You’re very welcome and look lovely in it. The scarf from Phoebe will compliment it perfectly.

She stood to undo the buttons. Was she in on this too? Clifford nodded happily. Oh, you are the sneakiest, most conniving man in the world! I’m just lucky that all your schemes are good ones.

He chuckled. Well, I simply told Phoebe that we were going to get you a coat after Christmas, and I thought you’d choose a light-colored one. I didn’t want to parade such an expensive gift in front of them. I’m sure they aren’t starving, but there’s little extra money in Franklin’s house, I’d wager.

Folding the coat carefully over an armchair, Garnet nodded. I’d like to give them more, but I know how proud my brother is. She sat down again. I was just thinking, she started.

Clifford leaned over and kissed the wrinkles on her brow.  Mm, hmm.

When we build a new kitchen, will we be using the same stove?

No. We’ll have a gas stove, modern and convenient.

That’s what I thought. Phoebe mentioned today that their old stove is in terrible shape. Do you suppose we could give them ours? There’s not a thing wrong with it.

What an excellent idea! We could say they’re doing us a favor by taking it off our hands, and, in fact, they would be. Very good, Garnet! It’s difficult to be generous with that prickly brother of yours. He kept nodding, pleased with her idea. You know, even though Lowell buys his gifts at the five and dime, I would never worry about giving you extravagant gifts in front of him.

"No, it only bothers Lowell when we give him something expensive. He didn’t unbend about that bicycle until he realized that so many people contributed to it. Her eyes warmed at the thought of her gentler brother. His pride runs a different way."

Clifford took her hand. He’ll be safe. He’ll be well away from the shooting.

I suppose. If he can get there safely. The Germans have been sinking so many ships. She tightened her lips.

Let him be a man.

She nodded, knowing he was right and reminding herself that Lowell wouldn’t be leaving until April. She doubted that he’d change his mind, but maybe the war would end by then. Shaking herself from worrisome thoughts, she winked at Clifford. Fanny sent more cordial home with us back in the fall. Do you suppose it would doom us as eternal drunkards to have a drop on Christmas night?

Clifford laughed. Not at all. I’ll get it.

As he rose, she said, I have another sort of gift for you.

Raising his eyebrows, he left the room, and she plotted how she was going to do this. Lorena had given her the ideas, some of which were too scandalous to consider. Quickly she stood and closed the curtains and lit candles on the mantel, turning out the lamps. The room turned dim and secretive with mysterious flickers and shadows.

What’s this? Clifford asked, returning with cordial glasses and a bottle.

You’ll see, if you’re patient.

He seemed happy enough to play along but mumbled something about it being a challenge to see anything in the dim light, and Garnet went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Unbuttoning her dress at the same time, she dove into their closet and grabbed a package hidden behind her summer clothes. She hurried, not only to keep Clifford from waiting too long but to do this before she lost her nerve. She shrugged out of her clothes, all her clothes, and ripped open the tissue paper covering the gown. She supposed you’d call it a nightgown, but she’d never had one made of anything but flannel or cotton. This narrow slip of fabric was shimmering ebony satin.

On Lorena’s last visit she’d said, Well, I ain’t lost hope, but I reckon I’ll quit shushing you when you say there ain’t going to be children. It don’t look promising, but you’ve got a fine man who loves you, and you need to keep him.

Garnet had agreed, not paying too much attention to a topic she’d just as soon not discuss, but Lorena wasn’t finished. I’ll just bet, though, that every time you all are loving, making a baby is all you’re thinking about. Seems to me that would take a little spice out of it. She’d eyed Garnet, daring her to deny it.

And she couldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t so for Clifford, but she usually had conception rather than passion on her mind. She adored her husband, but their loving was only occasionally exciting anymore. After all, they’d been married for six years and you couldn’t expect the first flush of passion to last forever, could you? She’d said as much to Lorena, who’d snorted inelegantly and shaken her head. He’s what you got, girl, not a baby, so you got to keep fanning them flames. Lord, sometimes I can’t believe you’re Louise’s child!

Mama’d been the queen of keeping passions inflamed, Garnet thought, and probably continued to generate sparks with Luther, even into their fifties. She slipped the gown over her head and sat at her dressing table looking at a stranger’s reflection. Sleeveless and cut with narrow shoulders, the shimmering gown plunged nearly to her waist, showing the curves and shadows of her breasts. She tied the attached rope-like sash high above her waist, and this emphasized her bosom even more. I can’t believe I’m doing this, Garnet thought as she unpinned her long hair.

Play the whore for him, Lorena had advised, ignoring Garnet’s discomfort at the word. I don’t know if Clifford Clark ever used them houses in Lexington, but Deke did before we was married and told me all about them. When Garnet’s eyes had flown open, Lorena had looked abashed for a moment. Now I’ve gone and ruined the reputation of your beloved and sainted Grandpa, ain’t I?

Garnet had replied that Grandpa was certainly beloved but just as certainly wasn’t a saint and listened avidly to all the tales Lorena had to tell. They’d plotted and schemed, frequently falling onto each other’s shoulders in fits of giggling. They’s just one hitch, Garnet, Lorena had said, wiping her eyes. And that’s whether you’ve got nerve enough to do it. You’ll have to get it started, but it don’t matter how long you keep it up.

At the time, Garnet had laughed, saying no, the hardest part would be to keep from laughing, and they’d rushed ahead with their scheme even though some of Lorena’s ideas were so outrageous Garnet’s face had burned. She felt certain she was making a fool of herself. Bending over to scramble her copper hair, she smelled sage, turkey, and, oh my, maybe even onions. That wouldn’t do. Dripping perfume on her fingers, she ran them through the waist-length tangle and then took her brush and ratted the mass of hair in a few places to make it look messier and, according to Lorena, more seductive.

Don’t let him touch right at first, Lorena had warned. That’s how them bad girls attract the men, just lounging around in the front room, looking all hot-eyed in their nightgowns. Or leastwise that’s what Deke said. Let Clifford do a lot of looking before you let him come close.

Maybe she could pull it off. Rubbing liberal amounts of rouge on her cheeks and lips, Garnet made a pouty face at herself in the mirror. For God’s sake, Lorena had said, don’t be all cheerful and friendly. That’s what he gets all the time. When they’d shopped for the farce, Lorena had made her buy a little box of mascara and a brush. Dashing into the kitchen, Garnet wet the brush and sat again to try it on her eyelashes. Land, she wished she’d taken the time to practice; this was tricky. With the mascara, her deep blue eyes became huge and mysterious. Dusting face powder over the entire job, she had to admit she sort of liked it, not that she’d ever fuss herself up like this again. Quickly she flew back to the closet and found the slippers, black satin with red silk roses attached to the toes. Just the thing, Lorena had said. Clifford must be wondering what on earth she was up to.

Breathing deeply, she opened the door and posed in what she hoped was an alluring way. Well, good evening, Mr. Clark. I’m your real live Christmas present.

Clifford’s mouth dropped open. Half the fun was rendering her normally talkative husband speechless. Garnet sashayed over to his usual chair, avoiding the sofa where he sat. She lowered her body languidly, crossed her leg, and stretched, knowing the gown, slit nearly to her rear end, was giving him quite a view.

Can a girl get a drink around here? she asked, lowering her voice to her mother’s throaty tones.

Clifford nodded, blinked, and groped for the bottle of cordial on the table next to him. She refused to reach for the glass he held out to her, making him stand and bring it to her. When he did, she took the glass in her right hand and used the fingers on her left to walk up his leg to his hipbone. Then she removed her hand, drawling, Thank you very much, sir.

Frozen at first, he finally sat, holding his own glass absently. She upended hers, swallowing the contents in one gulp. Good Lord, Garnet, he breathed.

Rosie, she corrected him, pointing her slipper at him until all her leg, nearly up to her