Chapter 9
Chapter nine
William’s eyes widen, then he scrambles up from the table. I make a mental note to continue our conversation another time as I follow him into the living room. Josh is standing in the doorway grinning, a squealing piglet under each arm, both of them wriggling and looking decidedly alarmed.
“Josh…” I am incredulous. “What are you doing with pigs in the house? Get them outside!” I demand.
He laughs. “Pigs are actually very clean animals,” he informs me.
I shake my head. “That doesn’t mean you keep them in your living room.”
“True enough,” he agrees affably, clearly buzzing from having finally bought the pigs he’s wanted for a while. One more step toward self-sufficiency. “Don’t worry, I’ll take them out back.” He proceeds to march through the entire house while the piglets keep up their litany of alarm, and I do, too.
“Josh! Why are you— You could have taken them back outside the front door! How much did they cost, anyway?” I yelp as I follow him through the kitchen.
“How much did they cost?” Josh sounds baffled that I’m asking such a question. “Seventy-five dollars each. And in about six months, they’ll give us three hundred pounds of meat.” He glanced back at me, bemused. “I’d say that’s money well spent.”
“All right, but where are you going to keep them?” I ask as I follow him outside. Rose has come out of her room to investigate the commotion, and she is delighted by the arrival of yet more animals.
“Piglets!” she squeals, sounding much like the animals under Josh’s arms. “Can I name them? Please, pretty please?”
“Remember, they’re being butchered in a couple of months,” Josh warns her, and our eight-year-old daughter smiles beatifically.
“Don’t worry, I know.”
She named all forty of our meat chickens Nugget, so who knows what she’ll name these two pigs. Bacon? Sausage? I shake my head as Rose, William, and I traipse after Josh and the piglets to the barn.
“Jack and I built another stall in the barn this week,” Josh tells me. “Plenty of space.”
“Where is Jack?” I ask.
“He’s getting some supplies from the truck,” Josh tells me, and I realize way too late that if Josh went in the truck…
“Wait, you drove?”
“Abby, it’s been a month since I got the cast off. Yes, I drove.” He sounds a little irritated, which I know is his way to hide his defensiveness. He isn’t supposed to drive for at least another two weeks.
I can’t help but notice that Josh is limping as he wrestles the two piglets into their pen while Rose hangs over the fence and coos at them.
They are kind of cute, for pigs, anyway—speckled black with tiny snouts and cute, folded-over ears.
As Josh struggles with the gate, I glance pointedly at William, and he hurries to help.
“Wow, pigs, pretty cool, Dad,” he comments as he reaches for the gate, and Josh lets him, stepping back as he catches his breath.
It’s clear that William has learned how to handle his father by not drawing attention to the fact that he’s helping him.
“Is there more stuff to get from the truck?” he asks.
Josh’s forehead is beaded with sweat as he nods, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “Yeah, a trough and water barrel. You can help Jack. Thanks.” He claps William on the shoulder and then smiles at me. “I brought home the bacon!” he announces, and I try to smile back.
“You certainly did.” I glance at the piglets, breathing in the smell of hay and animal, then turn back to Josh. “Why don’t you come inside?” I suggest. I want him to sit down and rest, but also because I need to tell him about my job… or lack thereof. “I’ll make some coffee.”
“Coffee sounds good,” Josh agrees and starts limping toward the house.
“Keep an eye on those piglets,” I tell Rose, trying to sound cheerful.
I’m still feeling grumpy as well as panicked, and I know I need to regulate my mood.
I take a deep breath, resting one hand on my bump as I glance at Rose still cooing at the piglets, who are rooting around in their pen, snuffling in the corners, and sniffing everything with piggy grunts and yet more squeals.
“Do you know what you’re going to name them? ”
Rose tilts her face upward as she reflects on this weighty matter. “Maybe Wilbur and Peppa,” she says, which are not the most original names, but better perhaps than the names of our chickens, the likes of which are Sparkletoes and Glitterina.
“Sounds great,” I say, and head inside just as William and Josh come into the yard, carrying all the pig-related supplies. How much, I wonder morosely, did all that cost?
Josh is sitting at the table, his leg stretched out in front of him, looking pale, although his cheeks are flushed.
“Before you say anything,” he heads me off as I go to fill the kettle, “I may have overdone it a little today, but I’ll rest up this afternoon and be fine.
I’m tutoring anyway this evening, so I’ll just be on the sofa. I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I say briefly. I don’t want to argue about that when the loss of my job is pressing on me, even though I am annoyed that he’s not taking his rehabilitation as seriously as I want him to.
Josh watches me set about making the coffee, a quizzical look on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asks finally, and I sigh.
“I got laid off from Kroger.”
He stares at me for another few seconds, still looking quizzical. “Okay,” he says at last. “I mean… no one likes being laid off, but, Abby… that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
“Josh.” I turn to face him, my hands on my hips. Sometimes my husband’s deliberate insouciance exasperates me. “We need the money.”
His expression turns so compassionate, I struggle not to squirm.
“Abby, you were making eight-seventy-five an hour,” he reminds me gently, as if I didn’t know the amount on my own paycheck.
“A hundred bucks a week is not going to make or break us. I’m glad you got the job, and I think it was important to you that you were bringing something in, but… ”
“It wasn’t worth it?” I fill in, a little resentfully.
I want to argue that a hundred bucks is still a hundred bucks, and besides, it was one hundred twenty, but I know he’s right.
I slump into a seat, feeling defeated. If the best job I could get didn’t even make that much difference, what’s the point?
“Well, we don’t have a lot of money in the checking account,” I tell him.
“I moved a bunch into investments,” Josh reassures me.
“The rest of what your dad so kindly gave us after the medical bills were paid. And the investments are doing pretty well, as it happens.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself, although I don’t know why he didn’t tell me about all that earlier.
“Well, that might have been good to know,” I huff, feeling both annoyed he didn’t tell me and relieved we’re not broke.
He laughs. “Sorry, you know I’ve always been the one to handle that kind of stuff. But you’re right, I should have mentioned it.”
I feel marginally better, but not much. Investments are great, but what about the day-to-day?
“Even so, Josh…” I say, trying to sound pragmatic rather than glum, “between the four of us, we’re barely breaking even.
And I don’t want William and Bethany working forty hours a week for the rest of their lives to help support us.
Besides, Bethany wants to go to college next year for midwifery, and William might have plans eventually…
” I trail off, shaking my head, struggling not to feel truly despondent.
Why does it feel like life always comes down to money?
“Well… I have a few moneymaking schemes up my sleeve,” Josh says mysteriously, which does not actually make me feel much better. Moneymaking schemes is not a phrase to inspire confidence, especially when it comes to my husband.
“You do,” I state, unable to hide my skepticism. “And they are?”
“In process.” He grins, his eyes glinting. “I’m not keeping secrets, I promise,” he assures me, seeming so very sure of himself. “I just want to have a solid business plan up and ready before I tell you my thoughts.”
“A business plan?” What on earth is my husband thinking? What kind of business plan could he possibly need?
He nods solemnly. “Yes, a business plan.”
Some squeals from outside have us both looking out the kitchen window. The two piglets are streaking through the yard, heading for the orchard, with its few scraggly apple and plum trees. William and Rose are running after them, William shouting at Jack.
“You were meant to close the gate, you idiot!”
“I am not an idiot!” Jack bellows, then runs after William and Rose.
I turn wearily back to Josh. I’m too tired to worry about the piglets escaping or to even continue this conversation. My feet ache, and even though it’s past five in the evening, I want to take a nap. Maybe quitting Kroger is a sensible idea.
“All right, then,” I say, managing a smile. “Well, I look forward to hearing about your business plan.” I navigate around the pile of Bethany’s stuff in the middle of the kitchen and head for the bedroom. As I practically fall into bed, through the open window I hear Jack crow triumphantly.
“Got him!”
“Actually, it’s a her,” William retorts dryly.
I smile as my eyes flutter closed.