Dulsie wasn’t sure she could ever share a bed with him again. If only Shad had been a pyromaniac instead. If he refrained from starting fires even though his libido was ignited by spectacular conflagrations, she would find that particular deviance easier to accept. But Shad was drawn to children. Every time Dulsie considered that fact she felt a new wash of revulsion sweep through her.
The fact they had a baby on the way further complicated her consideration. Dulsie knew the value of children having fathers who were accessible and involved. And one of the reasons she married Shad was because Dulsie knew he offered many qualities as a dad. One might suggest they could stay together but not sleep together. But living in a screwball marriage harbored its own set of complications.
In her heart Dulsie knew she was going to have to work through her distaste, but that task wasn’t going to be easy. It made no difference that Shad was a handsome man, one that she noticed other women taking second glances of, and yet true to form Shad remained oblivious to their attention. Dulsie decided she needed to immerse herself in his qualities that truly made Shad attractive.
One of the tasks Dulsie tried that day was pulling a half-inch thick pile of small papers from the bottom of her cedar chest. They were notes Shad would leave lying about in their apartment during the first three years of their marriage, when between their studies and part-time jobs didn’t get to see each other that much.
“Your value is more precious than jewels.”
“Your love is more delightful than wine and there is honey under your tongue.”
“If I do not have love, I am nothing.”
They had weathered those first three years together, defying the odds against what happened to around eighty percent of relationships when one partner was in law school. Perhaps Dulsie’s independence combined with Shad’s insularity provided them additional fortitude, but ultimately their positive attitudes bore them through. As much as Shad claimed he had trouble grappling with the more mystical aspects of faith, these notes proved he had a better grasp than some people.
Her ancestor Margaret was keenly aware of the spirituality of marriage. Although the Society of Friends believed in living daily with God, making ceremonial observances such as baptism with water unnecessary, even they observed the sanctity of the wedding. Margaret pointed out that if society continued to take marriage for granted and demean it as common, one day humanity could lose sight of how God instituted marriage as something special. And once that happened, all matters of faith and the freedom to practice it would come under fire, because faith found its home within marriage and the family.
Try as she might, however, Dulsie couldn’t push beyond the unsettling fact Shad was attracted to children.
By nightfall she had had gained no ground, so Dulsie dressed in her satiny, green, spaghetti-strap nightgown and climbed into bed. It took a while for her to fall asleep because she kept asking to find that strength which seemed so determined to elude her.
Dulsie only knew she had finally dozed off some time ago when Sadie began barking. Dulsie opened her eyes and turned toward the clock radio on the nightstand to see it was after one o’clock. What was attracting Sadie’s attention?
Dulsie listened to the tone of the dog’s barking, and it puzzled her. If Sadie was barking at distant coyotes, it was a booming challenge. If a possum or coon or stray dog was slinking toward the turkeys, Sadie would go ballistic. But tonight the dog’s barking was hesitant and choppy. Dulsie had never heard her do that before. Did Sadie see or smell something she didn’t recognize?
Maybe it was Dad’s armadillo.
Dulsie wasn’t going to take the chance of some unidentified varmint getting into the turkeys and wreaking havoc. She slipped out of bed and opened the nightstand drawer to grab a small headlamp and snap the elastic band around her head. Then Dulsie reached under the bed and pulled out a footstool that she carried to the bedroom door and set in front of it.
Dulsie stepped up on the footstool to grab the .223 rifle perched on forked sticks nailed over the door.
If Shad, who was a light sleeper so he would also get up, were here, he would pull on some pants and hold a flashlight for her so Dulsie would have complete freedom to shoot any treacherous predator. The headlamp would help if Dulsie needed light, but it would limit her range of sight. At least the skies were clear tonight and there was half a moon out, and her eyes were already accustomed to the dark. Dulsie hoped to locate whatever was agitating Sadie without having to depend too much on the headlamp.
She pushed the stool aside with her right foot and got a box of ammunition from a drawer in the nearby dresser. Dulsie loaded three cartridges into the rifle. It was a number she could load quickly and Dulsie knew from experience it was all she needed: one to drop her target; one to be sure it was dead; and one as back-up.
Dulsie stepped through the bedroom door and padded quickly through the living room and kitchen. At the back door she slipped on the flip-flop shoes she kept there, and then quietly opened it. When she stepped out on the tiny porch, Dulsie could see Sadie standing to the back and side of the house, between it and the turkey pen. The dog’s white coat dimly glowed in the faint moonlight, and she was staring directly toward their driveway, which was at the front corner opposite Dulsie’s location and therefore beyond her sight. Sadie glanced toward Dulsie, and then barked a couple more times toward the road.
Dulsie started to step off the short stoop to see if she could spot anything without using a light. No sooner did both her feet hit the grassy ground than Sadie erupted into a vicious snarl and charged forward.
A loud shot cracked to Dulsie’s right, and from the corner of her eye she spied a flashpoint beyond the corner of the house and near the road. Dulsie spun toward the disturbance and felt herself squeezing the rifle trigger even as she heard Sadie yelp in a pitiful wail.
Another shot echoed in her ears, but Dulsie couldn’t remember seeing anything because at the same instant a horrific explosion of pain shot from her left shoulder. Dulsie staggered against the stoop. The excruciation seemed to course through every fiber of her body. Her right hand was still grasping the rifle but Dulsie’s left arm was dangling almost uselessly at her side.
In her agony and confusion, one reality shot to the surface of her mind: She needed to protect the baby. Dulsie had to get herself under cover to keep her unborn child safe.
She lunged over the stoop and toward the door. Dulsie had to drop the rifle so she could turn the knob with her right hand because her left arm wasn’t working right. So she kicked the gun into the house with her and slammed the door. Dulsie engaged the deadbolt, grabbed the rifle, and staggered through the kitchen. That was when she realized her gait was probably affected by the fact Dulsie was becoming light headed.
She stumbled through the living room and into the bedroom. Dulsie slammed the door shut by throwing herself against it, and dropping the rifle again, turned the lock on the knob.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed. Was she safe yet? Dulsie looked up, and in the dark bedroom determined that the air conditioner was blocking the window on the wall at the foot of the bed. If she stayed low beside the bed, Dulsie would be blocked from the window on the other side of the room.
She felt soaked and was trembling. Dulsie could feel her head growing even lighter, and the waves of pain were causing her to feel queasy.
Dear God, she couldn’t pass out and choke on her own vomit. She needed help.
Luckily her side of the bed was closer to the door, so Dulsie could easily snatch her cell phone from the nightstand. As she pressed against the mattress and wedged her throbbing shoulder into the space between the bed and the nightstand, Dulsie realized the wetness covering her was too thick to be sweat.