Dunaway's Crossing Read Online Free PDF Page B

of Netta, putting his hands on her round middle. They felt like two warming pads on her torso, and the baby stirred inside her.
    “That’s my little boy,” Ralph said proudly.
    “Or your little girl.” Netta put her hand over one of Ralph’s.
    Ralph nodded, gazing at Netta’s girth as if it were a beautiful wonder. He shifted his hand on her stomach to meet the infant’s protruding foot or hand. “We hired Lola because she’s the best at minding children.”
    “Of course.” Netta nodded. “Only the best for our little angel.” She rubbed her stomach lightly. After a moment, she asked, “What are you trying to say?”
    Ralph looked up at her lovingly. “If we trust Lola with the most precious thing in our lives, shouldn’t we be able to trust her with a letter?”
    Netta exhaled and slumped in her rocker. She’d done it again. So determined to have things her way, she’d sent her housekeeper out in the noonday sun in the middle of a heat wave. If she kept up that attitude, Netta would lose Lola to Berma Daniel, who’d been trying to hire Lola away for weeks.
    Ralph stood, and Netta gazed at his shoes, black patent leather dusted with red Georgia clay. He leaned forward and put his finger under Netta’s chin, lifting her face so that she could meet his eyes. His damp black hair fell over his wide forehead.
    “Point taken,” she said.
    He smiled at her and winked. Netta always felt like a bashful schoolgirl when he did that. She couldn’t help smiling back.
    The telephone rang in the hallway, and Ralph went to answer it. From his usual short inquiries, Netta could tell he was speaking to another patient. He hunched over the telephone stand as he listened to the caller, his broad back filling the doorway. The back of his hair spiked with wetness.
    After hanging up the earpiece, Ralph returned to the parlor. “That was Will Dunaway.”
    Netta put her hand to her throat in alarm.
    Sensing Netta’s worry, Ralph quickly said, “He’s fine. He called to tell me Eliza Taylor’s in labor. Thought I should ride out and see her.”
    Netta smiled at Ralph’s report. It was just like Will Dunaway to suggest such a thing—always looking out after his neighbors.
    “Eliza’s delivered all her own babies,” Netta said, knitting her next row. “She’s probably better at it than you are.” She gave Ralph a teasing grin.
    “You may be right.” Ralph walked into the kitchen. He called to Netta from the other room. “But I’ll ride out there just in case.” The icebox door squeaked as he opened it. “Can I eat this chicken the way it is?”
    “That’s for your chicken salad,” Netta called back, but the silence told her Ralph was already eating the bird. “Dear, let me at least make you a sandwich.” She pushed against the armrests to rise from the rocking chair, but Ralph stuck his head in the doorway, a drumstick in his hand.
    “Don’t get up, honey. I’m halfway finished already.” He disappeared into the kitchen again. In a few seconds Netta heard water running. Then Ralph returned, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “I only ate a little bit. Lola can make chicken salad for supper.” He leaned down and kissed Netta’s cheek again, leaving a slick of chicken grease on her face. “I’ll be out at the Taylors’ place if anyone needs me.” He grabbed his bag and was gone.
    With two fingers, Netta touched the spot where he kissed her. Then she grabbed the front of her smock and fluttered it, moving air through her collar and down her chest. She peered out the window. Where was Lola?
    She pushed herself out of her chair and shuffled into the kitchen to clean up after her husband, but she discovered that Ralph had put the chicken back into the icebox. With an endearing smile, she had wet a dishcloth to wipe down the kitchen table when a knock interrupted her.
    “Coming,” she called as she waddled to the front door, wiping her neck and forehead with the damp rag. She still held it when she