CHAPTER 5: DIVORCED
It wasn't quite a month since I left the cabin to return home. Now I find myself standing amid rooms of boxes in the very same cabin which will now be my home. In truth, it had always been more than a traditional cabin as people think of them. Though relatively small compared to homes in town, it was insulated well enough for the Mississippi winters which were short-lived in terms of bad weather. Mr. Carlson, of course, had been surprised by my call to reopen it. He asked if I wanted the boat out and I decided, yes, there were plenty of warm days and some hot in the months to come.
I did confess to Harold, though I might have lied considerably when I allowed him to believe my pregnancy was the result of a single encounter. It really didn't matter ultimately to him, though. One night or more, his reaction was predictable, especially that it had been a black man and I carried a black baby inside me. The only thing that kept him from throwing me to the curb was the very thing my pit-bull attorney predicted: he couldn't tolerate the idea of societal rumor and scandal. I was moved into a spare bedroom and limited my contact with friends and associates. A story had to be developed that would be acceptable and his focus was on threatening me sufficiently that a mutual divorce agreement would leave me little.
The story was that we had grown apart. My spending summers alone at the lake would be sufficient proof of that. I would leave the city to live elsewhere, only to return for a shopping sort of visit but not to visit friends. My attorney asked me what I wanted from the divorce if I controlled it. It had seemed like a silly question. She persisted. I listed the cabin and everything there, my car, all my personal things, including some artworks and furnishings I collected, and 25% of everything else. I thought 25% was outrageous given the situation. She insisted on 50%.
The attorney negotiation began in earnest with mine indicating very convincingly that I was willing to take the divorce to contested status and allow it to be public fodder for consumption. I wasn't. I just wanted to get on with life. I had my father's trust waiting and it would get me started. I might need to get a job but it could work. In the end, an uncontested agreement was reached at 35% plus generous legal expenses. Harold jumped at taking the 35% and I was happy to be done with it.
We were now in the 60 days waiting period by Mississippi law for uncontested divorces. I had done the math. After three months of the summer, one month of attorneys, and two months of waiting, I would have a bit more than three months remaining. It seemed impossible that it had come crashing down so quickly and completely. I was, essentially, already an unmarried woman preparing to give birth to a man's baby whose life I had no intention of complicating.
There were small towns scattered around the lakes region and a mid-sized city. I purposely did my shopping in a town in the opposite direction from where I knew Ronnie lived and did much of his work. It wasn't so much I was hiding from him as I had made my decision not to involve him. I knew he would feel responsible and bound by his code to take care of me. He had been raised by a single mother after his father left. He had committed never to repeat that life mistake. I respected that and it reflected on the man he was. He was young, though, and his life shouldn't be hijacked by my mistake.
I had asked Mr. Carlson about someone with a rototiller and compost. I wanted to have a large vegetable garden and wanted to start preparing the ground for the planting whenever appropriate. I woke the following day with the first light in a bit of a daze. I staggered into the kitchen to flip the coffee maker switch and leaned against the counter hoping I didn't fall asleep and smash into the surface. I took a mug of coffee out to the deck, sat in the rocker, and was flooded with memories. The rocker, of course, brought to the surface eroticism I had tried to keep tamped down. I also realized in the cool early morning air that I was naked. I had spent the majority of my time over the summer naked but I had tried to ignore that. That, apparently, was as impossible as holding back the erotic memories.
Through my second and third mugs of coffee... why? Why ignore or pretend? Why ignore and push away the best, most wonderful, and most exciting period of my life? With summer over, the lake was quieter than ever before. I really hadn't spent much time here other than the summer months but I liked the quiet and the peace. The deep South falls and springs were still warm to hot and many winter days are too. I decided then and there I would live the way I wanted to create it. If I wanted to be a nudist like I was in the summer, what was to stop me.
I may have looked like a sight but the idea was not to be seen. I used an old, rusted wheelbarrow I found deep in the shed to haul loads of compost into the freshly turned garden for spreading to seep in during the winter rains. I had laid out a grid of stakes indicating pathways between rows and sections that allowed reaching in for working without stepping on the sections for growing. I was wearing old rubber boots on my feet to assist in pushing the shovel into the ground, canvas gloves a size too big on my hands to ward off blisters, and a floppy hat over my head, my hair tied in a pony-tail. That was it. Otherwise, I was naked. And, it felt wonderful, free, and right.
I was deep in thoughts, memories actually. I could not forget Ronnie. Everything was Ronnie. I touched my stomach to feel the pronounced swell that was quickly turning into the 'bump' and my heart would swell. There were times when I just knew I would hear the boat coming down the lake and I had waited too long to be cleaned up and ready for him. But I shouldn't involve him. It wouldn't be fair for him to feel he should change his life for an older woman with a baby when he was so young and filled with his dreams for work and life.
I was on my knees in the garden and carefully spreading seeds for carrots, lettuce, and cabbage. The work and the thoughts prove to be too distracting. When the sound of tires on gravel finally penetrates my awareness, it is already near the front. Not only am I naked but I confidently did not bring a cover should something like this happen. I walked quickly to the corner and peeked over the deck at a very familiar older Ford F150 pickup truck.
"So, it's true," he said when I walked around the corner. He was looking directly at my belly. "You are pregnant." He finally looked up at me. "It's mine, isn't it? Why didn't you tell me, Amy? Didn't I deserve to know?"
I nodded. "I didn't want to ruin your life, Ronnie." I stepped up within arm's length to him. He saw my swollen belly, not my nakedness. There was no arousal at the moment. "Yes," I continued with placing my hand over my belly, "this is you but the mistake was mine, not yours. You have your own life to look forward to, you don't need to be burdened with this, too. I'll... we'll... be fine. I have some resources."
"Mistake?" He seemed to have keyed on that one word. "Is this a mistake?"
I smiled, stepped up to him, and put a palm against his cheek. "Oh, God, no! It was unintentional, Ronnie, but not a mistake. From the moment I was sure, I was also sure I wanted this baby. Remember, I told you I always wanted to be a mother. You've given me that but you don't need to give me, us, anything more."
