“You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”
“I won’t. This is what is called a bundling blanket. Surely you’ve heard of the practice.”
“Yes, but we are not living in colonial times. You know what they call people who practice bundling? Parents. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Lily threw the half-rolled blanket at him. “If you must.”
“Oh,” he said. “I must.”
Something about the way he said it forced a flush under Lily’s skin. She quickly turned away, gathered the rest of the blankets, and dropped them over the side of the bed. Before she returned to her place, she reached for the lamp and extinguished it, plunging the room into darkness that seemed more impenetrable than it had been earlier.
Lily took some small satisfaction that once Roen was down for the night, he was the one tossing and turning. She, on the other hand, slept without stirring, as quietly as a babe.
Chapter Twenty-two
Roen followed the smell of fresh coffee and bacon all the way to the kitchen. In spite of the schedule he had set for himself, he was the last one at the table. He should have already been halfway to his work site. Bleary-eyed, he sat gingerly, feeling stiff in his lower back and neck. He smiled weakly as the children greeted him, and for some reason that made them giggle.
“They think you’re hungover,” said Lily, pouring coffee into his cup.
“I’m not,” he said, looking each child in the eye. “I’m cursed. Your mother cursed me.”
“Did you, Ma?” asked Ham, much taken by this information. “What curse did you use? Damn? Hell? Maybe dammit to hell.”
Roen put a hand across Ham’s mouth. “That’s enough.” When he felt Ham clamp his mouth closed, he removed his hand. “It wasn’t that kind of curse.”
“I know others,” said Ham.
“I don’t doubt it. Clay, pass the bacon, please.”
“Sure.” He pushed the plate in front of him toward Roen. “I remembered what you said about going out this morning. I went to the livery and got your horses. They’re waiting outside for you. Yours is saddled. I just need to pack the other. Didn’t want to do that in case you changed your mind.”
“Late start,” said Roen, “but I haven’t changed my mind. Thank you for doing that.” He forked two slices of bacon and put them on his plate. “Shouldn’t three of you be on your way to school?”
“Mr. Stanton hasn’t rung the bell,” said Hannah. She mopped up her dippy egg with a triangle of toast. “Maybe hewon’t today on account of being at the Songbird last night and refilling his glass more times than either you or Ma.”
“I was drinking ginger beer last night, so it doesn’t matter how many times my glass was filled. I told you, your mother cursed me.”
“Jumpin’ Jesus on a griddle,” said Ham, snapping off a piece of bacon. “That’s another good one.” He smiled as innocently as one of the devil’s minions when everyone stared at him. “What? Ben says that sometimes. He told me he knew a deputy who liked to say it.”
Lily waggled her fork at Ham. “Well, I don’t like you saying it, so stop.”
He looked down at his plate but his smile didn’t disappear. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hmm,” Lily murmured, watching him. She shook her head, somewhere between amused and distressed, and then spoke to Hannah. “I didn’t see Mr. Stanton last night. I wonder why he didn’t make himself known.”
“Probably because we were there,” she said. “And he wasn’t walking so well from what I could see. It was better that he held his end of the bar up.”
Clay nodded. “He thinks no one at school knows he is a regular at the Songbird, but we all do. I reckon he thinks it doesn’t set a good example, but if he thinks that, he should drink at home like Pa did.”
A hush fell over the table. Even Ham was staring at him. Alarmed by what he’d said, Clay’s head snapped in his mother’s direction.
Lily said calmly, “It’s all right, Clay. Remember? We said we could talk about things. This is one of them. Your father did drink at home, but you know that he did some of his hardest drinking when he was at the Songbird. He liked being around other people, liked swapping stories, and making folks laugh. It was always fine until it wasn’t. He didn’t know when he’d had enough. When he was done, it was because he’d had more than enough. Maybe it’s the same for Mr. Stanton. Your father worked every day.”
“Except when he was in jail,” said Hannah. “I don’t think Mr. Stanton’s ever been in jail.”
“No,” said Lily. “We’d all know if he’d been there.”
