It was an ambush. She said as much to Roen, but her voice was drowned out by the cheers and clinking glasses that accompanied her entrance. Jim Springer was rushing forward, holding out both his hands to take hers, and insisting at the same time that he wasn’t responsible for the reception.
“It grew like Topsy,” he told her. “I told Buzz that you accepted my invitation, and he took it from there. You’ll stay, won’t you? Folks who weren’t at church yesterday want to wish you well.”
Aware that the children were looking at her as expectantly as Jim Springer, Lily said that of course they would stay. A second round of cheers followed when Jim gave the crowd a thumbs-up. He led the children to the only vacant table in the saloon. Lizzie refused to leave the cradle of Roen’s arm, but the other three sat down. Ridley Madison squeezed through the gathering around the table and took Lizzie’s place. She smiled innocently when Lily turned a mildly accusing look inher direction but had no illusions that it released her from culpability.
Lily flinched as her arm was taken. It was only when she saw it was Ben that she relaxed. He provided an escort for her, taking her from one person to the next to receive their best wishes, and was careful not to allow her to be passed around. She could admit to herself that Roen’s following presence helped to calm her. Lizzie’s giggling raised her smile. She doubted that she appeared as nervous as she felt, though she imagined that Ben felt the light tremor in her arm.
Jim had a glass of sweet red wine waiting for her when she and Ben reached the bar. There was a shot of whiskey beside it for Roen and a little glass of sarsaparilla for Lizzie. True to his promise, Roen asked for a ginger beer and passed the shot to the sheriff.
“Look up,” Roen said, raising his glass. “There, in the mirror.”
Lily lifted her eyes to her reflection and then let her vision encompass all that was behind her. Everyone present was raising a glass, even if it was empty. Her vision blurred so that she had to blink rapidly to stay her tears. This was not the first these dear people had gathered on her behalf. They had fought the fire that destroyed her home and built a new one in its place. They had helped her bury her husband. The bank had found a buyer for the forge, and there were offers of employment from a number of shop owners before she accepted the position with Mrs. Fish. And all of that was the very least of what they had done.
Lily sought out her children. They were sitting at attention, beaming their approval almost as widely as the doctor. Her heart swelled. The town had adopted them as well, so much so that Hannah had once remarked that it was as if she had dozens of parents to mind instead of just one, and although Lily had been relieved to hear it, she appreciated Hannah’s frustration.
She turned to face everyone when Roen did and simultaneously lifted her glass. She had thought it would be Jim Springer who made the toast, but it was Buzz Winegarten from where he was seated with his gouty foot supported by a padded stoolwhose voice boomed encouraging words and happy thoughts. It was all very nice until he called for a kiss before they drank.
Lily couldn’t hide her panic from Roen, but he used Lizzie to hide it from everyone else. He angled his body and Lizzie to protect Lily. What the crowd could observe was the back of her head in the mirror. He bent his head, bussed the corner of her mouth, and then gave Lizzie a smacking good kiss on her proffered cheek. Everyone roared, the moment passed, and Lily had her features composed by the time Roen moved away.
There were other moments, some of the ribald, more of them respectful, when people called for Lily and Roen to demonstrate affection. Lily grew more easy with each kiss. And while she thought her confidence might be proportional to the wine she was imbibing, she was only peripherally aware that Jim Springer never allowed her to empty her glass.
The impact of all that wine didn’t hit her until she stepped outside. Had she thanked everyone for coming? Lord, she hoped so. She was in no condition to walk back inside and make amends.
Roen held out Lizzie to Clay. “Can you carry her? She’s almost asleep.”
Nodding, Clay put out his arms and took his sister in. Her head dropped to his shoulder. “Ma’s drunk,” he said, looking Lily over. “I’ve never seen her drunk before.”
“Tipsy,” Roen corrected.
“No,” said Lily. “Clay’s right. I’m drunk.” She leaned heavily against Roen. “Do I sound sorry about it? I don’t think I am.”
Roen straightened Lily and gripped her arm. “All right, troops. Home.” Lily started out on a stumble, apologized, and then took every step after that with considerable care. The children were already in the house, coats, scarves, and hats off and draped over the banister by the time Roen and Lily arrived. Roen helped Lily remove her outerwear before he led her to the rocker. She was compliant, smiling a little giddily as she dropped like a stone. It was only when the rocker shifted that her smile vanished, replaced by a sickly look common to new passengers at sea.
“Hannah,” Roen said. “Fetch a pail for your mother.”
Lily pressed her hands to her midriff as she leaned forward. “I’m fine.”
“All evidence to the contrary. Hannah. The pail.” When she ran off, Roen tossed Lily’s coat and scarf on the sofa and put his own things there as well. “Will you put Lizzie to bed, Clay? I’ll look after your mother. Ham, go with your brother.”
“Will she be all right?” asked Clay, frowning as he resettled Lizzie in his arms. “She doesn’t drink. We don’t have liquor in the house anymore.”
“She’ll be fine. Promise.” He was curious about Clay’s “anymore” comment, but it was not the time to inquire. “Go on. Hannah will be up shortly.”
Roen was on his knees beside the rocker when Hannah reappeared with a pail. She handed it over but waited on tenterhooks to see whether it would be needed.
“Fine,” Lily insisted, holding the pail between her knees.
“Go on, Hannah,” said Roen. He turned his head to watch Hannah slowly back out of the room. When she was out of sight on the staircase, he spoke to Lily. “It’s safe. You can purge now.” The lethal, narrowed-eye stare she gave him set him back on his haunches. He thought she might sit up, but she remained leaning over the pail.
“I’m not going to be sick,” she said.
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Then she promptly threw up.
Roen winced but remained at her side, steadying the pail when her hands shook and her body shuddered. He rubbed her back until the purge ended and she moaned softly, then he took the pail away and handed her a handkerchief. He left to empty and clean out the pail and pour a glass of cold water. He returned with the water and a small bowl. He gave her the glass and held the bowl. “Rinse and spit.”
Lily was beyond embarrassment. She did as he instructed. When she was done, he removed the glass from her hand and went back to the kitchen. She was on her feet by the time he reappeared.
