Call the Canaries Home by Laura Barrow EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Laura Barrow
- Language: English
- Genre: Women’s Friendship Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MEEMAW
March 1969
Marylynn dipped her hands into the rusty basin. Her nimble fingers searched
the sudsy water until they landed on Frank’s favorite pair of pajamas, the
ones with the little trains on them that he’d soiled last night as he lay crying
himself to sleep because she had finally forced him out of their bed and into
his older brother’s room. He was four now, after all, so she reminded herself
not to feel guilty about the way his lip had quivered when she’d told him it
was time to be a big boy and sleep in a big boy’s bed.
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More importantly, soon
there would be a new baby sleeping in the bassinet beside her, and for all
their sakes, she hoped it would be a girl. Dennis and Frank had driven her
into a constant state of exhaustion with their wrestling and hollering, tearing
through the house while she tried desperately to pick up the messes they left
behind. How in the world she would ever manage three of them was a
mystery to her.
The boys raced between tattered bedsheets, chattering to each other,
stopping only every so often to drag sticks through the loose dirt. Shielding
her eyes from the sun with one hand, she could almost make out the shape of
a little girl trailing close behind them, skipping barefoot, wild blonde hair like
Marylynn’s own blowing in the wind. She rubbed her belly and mouthed
promises to it in soothing tones.
Charlie caught sight of her through the kitchen window and ambled out
into the yard to meet her. He placed a calloused, oil-stained hand on her back
and massaged tiny circles, then drew her close and kissed her neck, the scruff
of his unshaven face scratching her skin like sandpaper.
“Don’t do that. I’m sweating like a pig.” Stifling a smile, she pulled
away and reached again for the bucket of soaking laundry.
“Well, I like your sweat.” He brushed a loose curl away from her
dripping forehead and smirked, but she’d known him long enough to know
that this particular half grin tended to show up only when he wanted
something she didn’t want to give him.
“What do you want, Charlie? I know it’s something,” she said, her small
but capable hands wringing the fabric out with more force than necessary.
“Can’t a man kiss his wife and tell her how beautiful she is without
wanting something?” His lips trailed playfully along her cheek.
Pulling away once more, she heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes, some
men can. But you can’t,” she said through her teeth as she pulled a clothespin
from her mouth and tacked the pajamas on the line.
He nodded and dropped his head, then grabbed a yellowed undershirt
from the bucket, wrung it out, and secured it clumsily next to the other items.
But Marylynn wasn’t convinced. Charlie Pritchett did not do laundry. She
snatched it off the line and shot him a stern glance before wringing it out
again, this time making a point to put her elbows into it.
“Go on. Out with it,” she said without looking up from her work.
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