Cracks in the Sidewalk(8)

Before they were married Jeffrey said they’d have nine kids, but the truth is he can barely deal with the two they have. He’s none too good with money, and now I think he’s worried about having another mouth to feed.

This financial dilemma is something he brought on himself. He bought that store from his Uncle Wally, who was a levelheaded man. When Wally Hawthorne had the store he sold clothes that the women in Westfield actually wanted to buy. But JT said the town was crying for a more upscale shop, so he tore down walls and expanded Wally’s store until it was almost three times its original size. Then he brought in a bunch of fancy outfits no one wears. The construction wasn’t half-finished before JT started borrowing money from Charlie. Now every time we see him, he’s complaining about how he’s nearly bankrupt.

In my opinion, any man with a family like Elizabeth and those beautiful babies is rich beyond compare. It’s too bad Jeffrey can’t see that.





In the Months that Followed


With Elizabeth in the hospital, JT grew more irritable than ever. Business was worse than last year. He moved a display of rhinestone necklaces to the front window, but the ladies of Westfield continued to stroll by. Two vendors stopped shipping merchandise and another said Jeffrey had until the end of the month, no longer.

The kids, missing their mother, grew whiny and difficult. Their toast was burnt, they couldn’t find their socks, they wanted chocolate in their milk—until he put it in, then they didn’t. Day after day the mailbox held nothing but bills, a number of the envelopes stamped “Final Notice!” And on top of everything else, he had to pay Maria Ramirez to watch the children while he was at the store. Every time he visited Elizabeth, which was happening less and less often, he filled her ears with a rundown of his problems.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” he said.

“Mom is trying to help out,” Elizabeth explained.

“Yeah, well, it’s not enough. Your parents ought to be helping out financially. If your mother wasn’t so wrapped up in you, she’d be watching the kids full-time.”

“She’s just worried that—” Suddenly Elizabeth couldn’t remember what she wanted to say. That empty space had passed through her head again, a hole of nothingness with no doors or windows. She closed her eyes and slid into the pillow, her stomach a giant mound beneath the sheet.

“Great!” JT exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “I’m talking, and you decide to take a nap. I don’t know why I even bother to come here!” He stomped out of the room and didn’t return for five days.

Those empty spaces occupied Elizabeth’s thoughts more and more. She began forgetting the day of the week, whether she’d eaten lunch, and the names of the nurses. Then there were the headaches. The terrible, terrible headaches that made her wish the empty space would return. She began to wonder what was worse, pain or oblivion.

Doctor Sorenson came almost every day and studied Elizabeth’s chart with a worrisome scowl. “Not good,” she’d mumble, “not good.” Afterward she’d poke and prod Elizabeth’s swollen body and ask questions. “Are the headaches worse? Are you having any vision problems? Can you twist your head side to side?”

Claire began spending longer and longer days at the hospital. She could think of nothing but Elizabeth and when she wasn’t close enough to touch her, she worried about her. Determined not to pass along these fears, each day Claire came prancing into the sallow-colored room all sunshine and smiles.

“Oh my,” she’d say, sounding lighthearted, “don’t you look perky today!” It was a lie. Elizabeth’s weariness was as visible as the nose on her face.

This day was no different. Claire arrived at the hospital, set pictures of the children on the windowsill, then began plumping pillows, straightening the blanket, and watering the plants. Eventually she settled alongside the bed and drifted into a stream of conversation to color the empty spaces in her daughter’s mind.

“Imagine, it’s already Tuesday,” she said. “Why, this month of June is positively flying by.”

Elizabeth listened but remained expressionless until the conversation turned to talk of David and Kimberly. Then she smiled and clung to every word.

Jeffrey slowly stopped bringing David and Kimberly to the hospital, but on the third Sunday of June, they were both there for Father’s Day. Filled with laughter and sounds of happiness, the room became brighter, less yellow perhaps, and for that afternoon Elizabeth forgot the pain in her head. She even forgot about all the things she’d forgotten. Oblivious to the huge stomach between them, she hugged both children to her chest and covered them with kisses.

“Mommy,” David said, his arms stretched wide, “I miss you this much!”

Not to be outdone, Kimberly repeated the gesture crying out, “Me too, me too.”

For the one-hundredth time, she told them the story of Peter Pan and made them promise not to grow up until she got home from the hospital.

“We won’t,” they said. “Honest we won’t.”

Every visit with the children after that was hurried. The next time Jeffrey was barely through the door when he started saying he had things to do and had to get going.

“Please,” Elizabeth begged, “just another ten minutes.”