Brown, Sandra - Rainwater by Brown Sandra

Author:Brown, Sandra [Brown, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Fiction, Romance, Large Type Books, Boardinghouses, Historical Fiction, City and Town Life - Texas, Texas - Social Conditions - 20th Century, Dust Bowl Era; 1931-1939
ISBN: 1439172773
Google: cN2-RQAACAAJ
Amazon: B003NHR5VY
Publisher: Gale
Published: 2009-01-01T13:00:00+00:00

He seemed to suffer no lasting ill effects from the bad spell. Whether or not he was injecting the painkiller—Ella presumed it was morphine—she didn’t know. But he definitely took a turn for the better. The very next day, he resumed working with Solly, but only after he had cleared it with her first.

“I don’t want you flying off the handle again.”

She didn’t take umbrage because he said it with a teasing smile.

“I promise not to sling any more toothpicks. You can work with Solly any time you like.”

He set aside time each day.

And, he began going out often. If he bothered to inform her at all that he was leaving the house, he would tell her only the approximate time he would be back. He never said where he was going. He didn’t skip meals, so he wasn’t eating out. If he drove to Waco to catch a movie, he never mentioned the films he saw.

Sometimes he was gone for only a short while in the afternoons. Other times, he left after dinner and didn’t return until hours later. Of course, it was none of her business where he went, but she was curious—which she acknowledged only to herself.

“What do you figure is going on?” Margaret asked one afternoon.

They were in the front parlor, moving pieces of furniture so they could wash the baseboards behind them. Mr. Rainwater had paused on his way out to tell them that he would be back by suppertime. Through the front window, Margaret had watched him drive away, then posed the question to Ella.

She responded with feigned disinterest. “Going on?”

“With Mr. Rainwater. Where’s he off to here lately?”

“I don’t know, Margaret. He doesn’t tell me, and it’s none of my business. Or yours,” she added pointedly.

The maid applied her damp rag to the baseboard. “I’m thinkin’ he might have a lady friend tucked away somewhere.”

“He might.”

Margaret snuffled and shook her head. “You know what the mens is like.”

Ella let that go without comment.

A few days later, she ran into Lola Thompson in the post office. Lola’s youngest child was riding on her hip. She had another by the hand, and she was juggling a handful of mail that she’d just retrieved from her box.

When Ella greeted her, she was as ready as ever with a wide grin. “I got a letter from my cousin. She’s expecting again. I swear. As if they didn’t have enough mouths to feed.” She used the mail to fan her round, flushed face.

“You’ve been on my mind a lot,” Ella told her. “How have you been?”

“Oh, fine.”

“Ollie?”

“He’s mending fences. Plugging up holes in the roof. Working toward the day he can start another herd. We’re not making anything, but we’re not spending much, either. We’re carrying on best we can. What choice do we have?”

“I admire your resilience.”

Lola chuckled. “I’ve had my dark hours. Wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. But I try not to let on in front of Ollie and the kids.”

“Anytime you’d like to talk, call me or come by.

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