Cajun Waltz Read Online Free PDF Page B

from spinsterhood; their acceptance of his drinking and carousing throughout her pregnancy seemed almost amiable. But coming home to find his wife in bed with an infant at each breast and her father and the midwife looking on with pride, he realized he was extraneous here. He turned on a heel and went back to the bar.
    He and Leopold worked at the store while Esther stayed home with the children. Leopold kept him at laborer status, barely letting him talk to customers much less man the register or deposit the day’s cash at the bank. Richie reminded himself that marriage and fatherhood were a game he was running—no money problems ever again, freedom when he wanted it, and a wife who let him have relations with her if he bathed and shaved and treated her nice that day. Condescension from some old Jew was nothing he couldn’t handle.
    Those relations predated Esther’s pregnancy. Hands off during it he’d understood; the continued halt in the weeks and now months afterward was vexing. She’d become gigantic carrying the twins and had stayed that way since, but her size in daylight gave way to splendor at night when the press of her knee or backside under the covers posed a cushiony promise. He’d wait for a hint confirming that it wasn’t by accident. Sometimes he thought Esther too was waiting, lying there with breath held just like him. Then sleep would take over and the moment would pass unregretted.
    Lately she’d become careless of the sour milk smell that attached to her after nursing. Richie in turn didn’t bother to rinse the bourbon from his mouth or pass a washcloth under his arms before bed. She would jolt awake when the babies cried in their nursery at night. He’d hear the floorboards groan under her weight and think malicious thoughts. Leopold would appear in the hallway in his robe and slippers, holding the latest electric lantern he’d purchased from some supplier or other. Their silent collusion as they went to tend the children irritated Richie more than if he’d heard them whispering about his faults. He accepted that they thought he was useless. He disliked that they preferred it that way.
    His chance to assert himself came when his father-in-law brought up religion one day at the store. “Jewish from the mother,” Leopold said. “Her children.”
    â€œ Our children,” Richie said.
    â€œYou not religious, what I can see.”
    â€œYour daughter neither.”
    â€œWe are a people. Hébreu . Justine and Richard, same.”
    Richie shook his head. “I gave in on her name, that’s it.”
    â€œJustine?”
    â€œWanted Bonnie, you know that.”
    â€œJustine is beautiful.”
    â€œAin’t American. They’re Bainards. American. And the boy,” Richie said, “want him called R.J., not Richard.”
    â€œI no like.”
    â€œR. J. Bainard is a rich man’s name.”
    â€œYou not rich. I not rich.”
    â€œLook around, Mr. Block. You made a nice business. I can take it big.”
    Richie, who’d only been trying to get under Leopold’s skin, was surprised when the old man seized his arm. “You will do? For the children?”
    â€œJust said, didn’t I?”
    â€œI have worried on this.”
    Richie tried to keep up. “Talkin’ about your store, right?”
    â€œMaybe your store.”
    Leopold’s meaning sunk in. “Bull’s-eye,” Richie said.
    Expanding Block’s had been Esther’s idea originally. She didn’t care which faith if any her children adopted and seemed not to care much about them except as a point of duty. She couldn’t wait to get back to the business. She wanted to improve the space and open locations in other towns, make Block’s the popular stop for household goods and also farm tools, feed, and fertilizer. Hearing her excited plans when they came home after work was the one time each day that