Chapter 18 Dropping Bombs #2
“Bitsy Cobb, this is no time to start doubting yourself. You can do this.”
“But what if King’s right?” Bitsy asked. “What if I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“Did I ever tell you about the time I had to perform a tracheotomy during the war?” Bitsy shook her head. “One of the patients
started to choke and turn blue because his windpipe was blocked. We were up to our armpits in wounded that day. No doctor
was available to do the trach, and time was running out. I’d seen the procedure performed but never done one myself. The thought
of picking up a scalpel and cutting that man’s throat was terrifying. I was so scared of making a mistake, afraid he might
end up dying. But if I stood by and did nothing, I knew he would die. So I had no choice.
“That’s where you are right now, Bitsy. If you’d done nothing, kept silent and let King have his way, Delilah would already be dead.
But I know you. You couldn’t stand by and let that happen any more than I could have let that poor man choke to death.
We’re a lot alike that way. If there’s a chance we can help, that’s what we do. That’s what we have to do.”
Bitsy’s gaze had become more detached as Viv told her story—not in a way that made Margaret think she wasn’t listening, but
in a way that indicated she was turning inward, weighing Viv’s words and measuring them against her own beliefs and experience.
When Viv spoke of their common urge to help, Bitsy started to nod. Margaret did too.
“And it’s not like you’re in this all alone,” Margaret said. “We’re all behind you and will pitch in however we can.”
“That’s right,” Viv said. “My sewing machine is at your service day or night.”
“I’ll get your mail and take care of your pets for as long as you need me to,” Margaret said. “And if you need help icing
Delilah’s feet or doing anything else, say the word and I’ll drive right down.”
Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. I’m afraid I draw the line at anything that involves actually touching the horse. But if
you want more ice, more blankets, more food, more liquor—especially more liquor—just whistle.”
“Thank you,” Bitsy said softly, a gentle smile bowing her lips. “Sorry for getting so emotional. I’m tired and a little overwhelmed.
It’s been a crazy day, for all kinds of reasons. But . . . you’re right. I can do this. I have to. For Delilah, for Mrs. Graham,
for myself . . . and for King,” she said, her gentle smile now more of a grin, the kind that anticipates a comeuppance. “I’d
sleep in a barn for a month for the chance to prove him wrong. The way I’m feeling today, I might end up doing it anyway.
What do you say, Delilah? How would you feel about having a roommate?”
The horse sputtered and gave her head a small toss, as if to say she loved the idea. Charlotte pulled another paper cup from
the basket, handing it to Bitsy. “Well, that settles it. There’s only one thing that needs to be said.”
Charlotte opened the thermos and filled Bitsy’s cup to brimming before topping off the others and raising her own cup into the air.
“To Kingsley Cobb. And the horse he rode in on,” she said, capping off her toast with a suggestion of what Kingsley could
go do to himself, which included a word that Margaret had heard but rarely in her life, and never, ever from the mouth of
a woman.
Bitsy gasped when Charlotte uttered the forbidden word. So did Margaret and Viv.
But then, after an instant of stunned silence, Bitsy giggled nervously. Soon they were all giggling, then laughing, at themselves
and at the fact that releasing a single word into the air—and a short one at that, just four letters—should be so shocking
yet so satisfying.
Bitsy laughed harder than anyone, until she gasped for breath and tears started to seep from the corners of her eyes. Her
friends moved closer, wrapping arms around her shoulders, still laughing, knowing Bitsy was all right.
Because sometimes a woman needs a good cry. Because sometimes there truly is only one thing that needs to be said, and Charlotte
had said it. When the tears and laughter subsided, Bitsy said it again, hoisting her cup into the air like a triumphant athlete
with a trophy.
“And the horse he rode in on!”
* * *
Viv, who only drank a little of her toddy, drove Margaret’s station wagon back to Concordia. They dropped Charlotte off first,
then drove to Margaret’s, arriving a little after eleven. Viv whispered good night as she crossed the street to her own house,
relishing the softness of the air and the perfect silence of the night.
Tony was still awake when Viv entered the bedroom, lying in bed and reading the baseball scores from the newspaper. He looked
up and smiled.
“You’re late. Must have been some party. Did you have fun?”
“Not exactly. Poor Bitsy was kind of a mess. I’m glad we went because she needed cheering up. But boy, am I tired. So if you
were waiting up, thinking you’d have your way with me, think again.”
Tony snapped his fingers and pulled a face. “Sheesh! First the brass ordered a report on combat readiness in the Aleutian
Islands that will take two months to write and never be read by anybody. Then the Mets lost to the Phillies by two runs, and
now my wife refuses my bed. Talk about a disappointing day!”
Viv smiled and shook her head. “How’d I marry such a hound dog?”
“Dunno. Just lucky, I guess.”
Viv opened the bureau drawers and pulled out her nightgown, thinking that Tony was right about being lucky. The gift of a
good marriage to a good man shouldn’t be taken for granted. She turned around, clutching the nightgown to her chest.
“Honey, can we talk before you head to the office in the morning? There’s something I need to tell you.”
He put his newspaper aside, frowning. “What is it? Something going on with the kids? Something about the new job?”
“Sort of. But not really. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Promise.”
“You’re going to do fine,” he said. “You know that, right? I know you’ve been out of the game awhile, but you’re a terrific
nurse. It’ll all come back to you, you’ll see.”
“Let’s talk in the morning, okay? I’m just too tired right now.”
She went into the bathroom, removed her false eyelashes, washed off her makeup, brushed her teeth, and got undressed, fiddling
with the safety pin she’d stuck into the waistband of her slacks because her zippers wouldn’t close anymore.
After finally coaxing the pin to pop open, Viv shed her clothes. At the same moment she removed her bra, she heard the doorknob
rattle and felt a jolt of panic, realizing she’d forgotten to lock it. She grabbed a towel, trying to cover herself before
Tony could see her.
It was too late. The door was already open.
Tony’s eyes traveled up and down the length of her naked body, bulging when he saw the swell in what had formerly been Vivian’s
waistline. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he let out the same expletive Charlotte had uttered earlier that evening, the
word that had launched the Bettys into a wave of hilarity.
This time nobody laughed.