The Dolan Girls Page 5

  “But I swear, I heard it. It was a man’s strange footstep, like…” She bit her lip ferociously.

  “Wes is long gone, Cora, and he won’t be back any time soon, I can guarantee you that. The posse looked high ‘n low for him for weeks. Trust me, he’s gone.”

  Nodding, Cora gulped. “If you say so. Are you sure?”

  Minnie sighed.

  Two weeks later, Cora was taking little baby steps around the back of the house, her face bruises paled to a slight green. A week after that, she was almost walking normally.

  She didn’t even mind when she overheard the doctor getting personal about her with Ana.

  “Because she was a virgin, Mrs. Ana, her vaginal tears were significant, but she’s healing nicely, so you’ll see a marked difference in her walking.”

  Yet the phantom noises continued. “Oh, Mrs. Ana, surely you heard that,” she exclaimed one morning in the kitchen, then promptly threw up in the sink.

  Minnie came running. “Mrs. Ana, what’s wrong with her, do you think?”

  The madam shrugged, but looked concerned. Turning to Cora she said gently, “Cora, vee need to have doctor come again to check on tings.”

  “But just a few days ago he said I was healing nicely. You told me that!”

  “It’s time for another visit,” Ana repeated firmly.

  By nightfall, the doctor had come and gone leaving his patient wide-eyed in horror.

  “Me? Pregnant? But it can’t be!” Her voice trailed off.

  “Oh, honey,” Minnie murmured as her sister started to sob. “It’ll be all right, I promise. Mrs. Ana and I are here for you. Don’t worry, please.”

  “Be all right?” she almost screamed through her tears. “How will it be all right? How can I raise a child? His child?” A moment later, her anger turned to fear. “I’m so ashamed. How can I face people in town? How will Thomas ever love me again?”

  Each day, Minnie kept on repeating, “It’ll be all right. We’re here for you,” but Cora soon stopped listening.

  As the sixteen-year-old became increasingly tense, the doctor concocted a special tincture to use as a sleep aid. It seemed to work. Cora’s dark circles slowly disappeared, as her belly steadily grew. In time, the phantom sounds also dissipated, and Minnie whispered more than a few Thank goodnesses.

  But not for long. Nightmares came next. Nightmares that featured Wes in a starring role and jolted Cora awake in the middle of the night, drenched in a body-soaked sweat.

  “Tell me about it, Cora,” Ana coaxed one morning when the doves were sleeping in, and Cora quaked in fear.

  Cora gulped. “It’s always the same. He’s chasing me around the house. I can smell his breath right up against my neck, that disgusting alcohol breath. And his sweat, so wretched.”

  Ana put her arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her to the parlor’s settee. “Go on, talk, child. It’s good for you.”

  Nodding, Cora continued. “Then he’s hitting me over and over again and laughing. Always laughing. And then when I’m heading toward a big faint, or goodness knows what else, I can hear him putting his gun on the side table and unbuttoning.” She started to cry again. “Unbuttoning his pants. That’s when I wake up,” she ended, two lines of tears running down her cheeks and dribbling onto her nightgown.

  “Oh, where is Thomas?” she wailed.

  “It vill pass, kotick. I promise all this vill pass for you.”

  * *

  By Cora’s seventh month, she decided to face the world. Arm-in-arm with Minnie, the two girls proceeded to Mr. Mahoney’s as a hopeful replay of more innocent days. He was as kind as ever.

  “Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miss Cora. How are you?” he asked solicitously, avoiding looking at her belly.

  “Fine, thank you Mr. Mahoney,” she answered, nervously scoping out other customers.

  The first person she laid her eyes on was Matthew Johnson, the postmaster’s son.

  He stared at her swollen front for an awkward moment or two, then, looking into her nervous eyes, stretched out his hand.

  “Nice to see you, Cora,” he said with a grin.

  Grateful, Cora performed a little dip of her head and smiled back, as Minnie muttered, “That’s one more person we can count on.”

  Three well-dressed women didn’t follow suit. Noses in the air, sniffing loudly, they not only refused to look at Cora, they put their heads together in a tight cluster to gossip.

  “Pay no mind about them, Cora,” Mr. Mahoney said, placing his large, gnarly hand on her arm. “Pay no mind.”

  She nodded gratefully and accepted his free gift of one of the new dime novels that had just arrived that morning.

  But she did mind. Minded enough to tell Minnie and Ana she wouldn’t go out again until after the baby came and minded enough to add on another disturbing behavior.

  “Cora, honey, how’s the new dime novel?” Minnie asked several weeks later.

  “All right,” Cora answered flatly.

  “Just all right? It looks like a good one, all about Jesse James and the Younger boys.”

  “It’s all right,” the expectant mother repeated, staring blankly at the book in her hands.

  Minnie studied her for a few seconds, nodded, and immediately sought out Ana.

  “I think we’ve headed into new territory with Cora,” she told the madam, fighting back tears.

  “Vhat now, Minnie?”

  After relating the scene, Ana shook her head and sighed. “I tink everything too much for our girl now. She’s broken, you know.”

  “Will she ever come back to us?” Minnie asked softly.

  “I hope so, Minnie. I hope to God so.”

  “Hope to God so, what?” Pete asked, as he entered the room.

  They recounted what had happened.

  “Leave this to me,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll get her back. I owe her that much.”

  “Oh, Pete. Just remember, Wes would’ve done what Wes wanted to do, no matter who was there,” Minnie said, reaching out toward their old friend.

  He drew a deep sigh. “I owe her that, Minnie.”

  * *

  A few days later, Pete knocked on Cora and Minnie’s bedroom door. “Are you decent, my girl?”

  Cora quickly opened up. “Yes, of course. What is it, Pete?”

  "Oh, my…" he started, staring at her dark circles and pinched face. One fast gulp, and he continued. “Sweetheart, I have a special surprise for you.”

  “Surprise? Oh no,” she moaned, her eyes filled with apprehension.

  He reached out to her. “My dear girl! It’s a good surprise, I promise you.” When she didn’t react, he added, “As Lord Byron would say:

  There be bright faces in the busy hall,

  Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;”

  Still, no reaction.

  “Let me show you, Cora. I promise you’ll like it.” He gently took her arm and guided her into the parlor.

  There, a fiddler was smiling broadly as he tuned up his instrument. “I hear tell you like Irish jigs, Missy!” he exclaimed and began bowing a tune.

  Immediately, Minnie and an Irish dove named Daria began to dance, their torsos straight as arrows, their chins uplifted and Irish proud.

  Forming a wide circle around them, Ana and a few of the doves started clapping in time to the music, hesitantly at first, but as the rest of the doves, Pete, and the male customers joined in, it became a wall of sound. Drinks were held up high as stamping, laughing, and cheering were all added to the mix. When the tune ended, everyone applauded with whoops and hollers.

  All except Cora. As people turned toward her, they were met by a pleasant, but unmoved face.

  “Didn’t you like that Cora, honey?” Minnie asked.

  “It was fine, thank you,” her sister replied. “I’m tired. I think I’ll return to our bedroom if you don’t mind,” and she waddled away.

  Ana looked over at Minnie. “I tink she’s in big trouble.”

 
* *

  Although strong winds hammered the pelting rain against the windowpanes at a furious pace, no one at Madam Ana’s was paying any attention. As Minnie stood vigil at her sister’s side, Cora was in the midst of labor, and her yelps and screams had been keeping everyone in the household on edge for hours.

  What few customers had come there on such a frightful night had been immediately sent home, and when Charlotte, the midwife, at last arrived, frazzled doves and a terrified Minnie met her at the door.

  “Thank God, you’re here!” they all exclaimed, clearing a pathway through the parlor so the woman could complete her job at the back of the house.

  Cora, spread-eagled on the bed looked up at the newcomer and moaned weakly, “Help me, please.”

  Minnie rushed to her and took her hand.

  Another contraction came, and with it, a blood-curdling yell.

  “Let me see her!” Charlotte barked at Ana, who pushed Minnie out of the way, yanked off the covers, and rolled up the girl’s nightgown.

  “It’s breeched,” the midwife commented, and instantly went into action. When she muttered, “Water,” like a well-trained nurse, Ana handed her a bowl of water, soap, and a towel.

  After a fast hand wash, Charlotte placed her right hand up inside Cora’s womb while her left hand was gently placed on top of the girl’s enormous belly. Wiggling and prodding, the seasoned midwife managed to manipulate the baby around, repeating every few seconds, “Not much longer, love, not much longer.”

  Ana, gripping Cora’s hand the entire time, watched this miracle worker performer her magic. She had seen it all before.

  “It’s turned around now so I want you to push,” Charlotte urged.

  Cora shook her head. “I can’t, I just can’t.”

  “Yes, you can! Do it for me, darlink,” Ana said. When Cora didn’t move, she leaned in. “Do it now!”

  “Yes, do it Cora!” Minnie called out.

  Mustering every ounce of strength she had left, Cora gave one last big push and howled.

  First a head appeared, then little shoulders, and soon the complete body slithered out mewling and crying.

  From the parlor came applause and cheers, but Cora could barely move as Ana took the baby girl, swaddled it in a warm blanket, and offered it to the teenager. “Here’s your little daughter, Cora.”

  Cora turned her head away toward the wall. “I don’t want her,” she stated simply.

  Horrified, Minnie stepped in toward her sister. “Now, Cora…” but she was stopped by Ana’s ‘Leave her be look.’

  For days, the new mother refused to be with her baby. Each time it was for a different reason––“I’m too tired,” “I need to heal,” “I’ll hold her when I’m ready.” Finally, she admitted, “It’s his baby! Not mine,” and left it at that.

  Minnie stepped up to try and give the infant some fresh milk from their neighbor's cow, but she knew that wasn’t the best thing for the baby.

  Finally, Ana took charge. “It’s time to be a mother, Cora. No matter how you feel, it’s time. It’s your milk and it’s your baby. Yours!”

  When the madam handed the tiny, gurgling infant into the mother’s arms, Cora pleaded with her eyes, but Ana ignored everything, grabbed Minnie’s arm, and strode out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She hastened away, but halfway down the hall, she stopped, put an index finger to her lips, and pulling Minnie along with her, tiptoed back toward the bedroom where they pressed against the wall just outside its door.

  The silence seemed to last for quite a while. Then the baby cried, and Minnie and Ana looked at each other, holding their breaths.

  “Ssh-ssh-ssh, little Eleanor. You want some milk?”

  Silence. Then came a slight, suckling noise. “There. Is that better?” Cora cooed in baby talk.

  Mouthing “Eleanor?” to each other, Minnie and Ana grinned and snuck back into the parlor.

  * *

  Four years later, a battled had emerged between the two sisters.

  “It’s Eleanor. El–lea–nor!” Cora enunciated.

  “Ellie suits her far better. Just look at her, Cora,” Minnie said.

  They both turned toward the pretty little girl chasing after two neighborhood boys in a circle, flailing her arms and yelling, “I’m gonna get you!”

  Minnie chuckled. “This is not an Eleanor. This is an Ellie.”

  “I just want her to be treated with the respect she deserves,” Cora stated, thinking of the week before––just one of several similar encounters.

  It had started out as an ordinary day. A trip to Mahoney’s where Eleanor was treated to some fine candy, then off to the post office. Entering the main room, Cora and Eleanor stopped at the counter.

  “Has my package arrived yet, Mr. Johnson?” Cora asked.

  “Yes, it has Mrs. Cora. And how are you, Miss Eleanor?” he asked as the girl flashed her teeth and curtseyed.

  “Fine ‘n dandy,” she replied, making him laugh.

  “That’s a live one you’ve got there, Mrs. Cora. My son Matthew thinks the world of her. And you,” he added.

  With a tight smile, Cora acknowledged the compliment. “Does he now,” she said, and pulling Eleanor along with her, exited with a short “Good day to you, Mr. Johnson.”

  Out on the street a group of fancy-hatted, well-dressed women were passing by, their parasols all tilted in tandem.

  Staring at the little girl, one of them sniped, “You know her story, don’t you?”

  “Yes, such a shame,” another one answered, maintaining the same intonation. “She’s a pretty little thing, but she’ll never amount to anything in this town.”

  As soon as they reached home, Eleanor peeked into the parlor, hoping for a free dove to play with.

  “Eleanor, stop that!” Cora snapped.

  “Stop what, Mama?”

  “I don’t want you to go in there anymore.”

  “What’s wrong, Cora?” Minnie asked, entering with a ledger tucked under her arm.

  Cora’s cold face spoke volumes. “Eleanor, please go to your room.”

  She waited for the sisters to be alone. As soon as Eleanor left, she said, “They did it again.”

  “They did, eh? Well, who cares what those old biddies think,” Minnie scoffed.

  “I suppose I do. If not for myself, for Eleanor.” She bit her lower lip.

  “I doubt if Ellie––if Eleanor even cares.”

  “Perhaps not now, but some day she might. I just want her to have a chance, Minnie.” Cora blinked and turned away. Her face started to pinch. “I wouldn’t care so much if Thomas…”

  Minnie shook her head. “Not that again. The war’s only just over. Who knows what’s happened to him, Cora. You’re probably waiting on a ghost.”

  * *

  Almost a year later, when Cora told Minnie that Matthew Johnson had asked her to go with him to the upcoming big dance, she was surprised at her sister’s reaction.

  “Cora, you know he cares for you different than how you care for him,” Minnie said one evening, as the sisters both rocked back and forth on the front porch, the setting sun deepening its colors in the changing sky.

  “I realize that, but he’s been a good friend, and that’s what I need right now,” Cora said, rubbing the back of her neck with a vengeance. “So I told him I would go. Besides, I deserve to be happy, don’t I? And if Thomas isn’t…you know.”

  “Coming back?”

  “Yes, coming back. I need something in my life.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s true, honey. Be happy, ‘cause chances are what with the war ‘n all, Thomas is not comin’ back. He’d be back for sure if he had made it through.”

  The church committee had made the barn more than festive. Quilts hung from the rafters, tables were covered in colorful, cotton-dyed cloths and laden with baskets of food, whiskey jugs, plates, utensils, and napkins.

  When Cora and Matthew walked in, arm-in-arm, Cora couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “
This is wonderful!” she exclaimed and tightened her hold.

  As two fiddlers entertained the growing crowd chowing down their food and guzzling their likker, young children poked their heads around their mothers’ skirts, men roared with laughter over the latest cowboy joke, women swapped recipes, as young men shyly––and not so shyly––asked young ladies to dance.

  Matthew turned to Cora. “Dance?”

  “Perhaps later. I’m starving.”

  “Of course. I’ll get us some food, shall I?” After depositing her on a chair, he darted off toward the food tables.

  She sat there, tapping her right toe to the music and thinking how good it felt to get out and be a part of things. Suddenly across the way, she saw someone she recognized. What was his name? She returned his stare. She broke her gaze, and looking down, suddenly remembered who he was. William, yes, that was his name. A friend of Thomas’. Haven’t seen him for a while.

  When she glanced over again, she noticed he was deep in a conversation with Matthew. At one point, they both turned toward her, still chatting away.

  “That man you were talking to was William, was it not? What were you two talking about?”

  “Nothing much. He’s back from the war and was just visiting his folks. Just talk is all, nothin’ special.”

  “Back from the war. Hmmm, I wonder…” she started, then caught sight of Matthew’s face. His eyes were searching hers as his body stiffened. She didn’t finish.

  “Yes, he’s goin’ back to Chicago soon.”

  Later, they danced, twirling around the floor, with blurred, happy faces surrounding them, some supportive, and others familiar with disdainful expressions, but she didn’t care. She was having a bit of fun. Finally, flushed, sweaty, and in high spirits, everyone applauded.

  “You’ve been a good friend to me, Matthew,” she said, as they stepped up onto Ana’s porch. The owls were beginning to hoot, and the horses snickered softly in their barn.

  “Just a friend?” he asked, gripping her by the shoulders. “Just a friend?” he repeated, so close to her, she could feel his breath on her face. He shoved his lips forward and tried to kiss her.

  She jerked away. “Matthew! Please, your friendship means a lot to me, but…”

  His eyes narrowed. “But I’m not Thomas, am I?”