No Dark Valley Read Free

first two years she had lived with her grandmother but had drifted apart after that. Doreen could have been a lot of fun if she hadn’t had such a religious streak.
    â€œAnd then a little bit later I started itchin’ and scratchin’ like crazy,” Doreen said. “I ’bout scratched myself raw before it was over. I remember that!”
    Celia nodded again. She remembered a counselor threatening to tie Doreen’s hands behind her back if she didn’t quit scratching.
    Doreen reached behind her and dragged a little red-haired boy out to stand in front of her. He looked down at the floor and twisted from side to side, three fingers jammed in his mouth. “This here’s Ralph Junior,” Doreen said. “Named after his daddy. You remember Ralph, don’t you? He graduated same year you did. Played football.”
    Celia felt her stomach knot up as she glanced at the boy. Probably no more than four or five. She nodded at Doreen. She remembered Ralph all right. Big dumb Ralph Hubert, who reinforced every stereotype in the world about football players. She thought she remembered her grandmother writing her that he had gone into the army a year or so after graduating from high school, but she was already away at college by then and couldn’t have cared less about any of the hicks she had gone to high school with. She looked back at Doreen’s little boy and felt something like the cold point of a knife against soft skin.
    â€œSo you finally decided to get hitched yourself, huh?” Doreen said, nodding to Al. “Never too late. Better not wait around for ten years to have you a kid like I did, though. ’Course that wasn’t the plan. I expected I’d just drop ’em out one after the other the way Billie Ruth did, but no sir, not me. Me and Ralph had to traipse all over to a hundred doctors ’fore we found out what was wrong, and then—”
    â€œAnd how is Billie Ruth?” Celia asked.
    â€œOh, same as ever. Had her another baby couple of months ago—number eight. Imagine that, my sister’s got eight, and I had to work like the dickens just to get me one. Mama told her she ought to get her tubes tied, but . . .”
    Al spoke up, his mouth full. “And how old is Ralph Junior?” he asked. The boy scowled up at him briefly, then turned and buried his face in his mother’s skirt.
    â€œFive his next birthday,” Doreen said proudly. “He goes to the four-year-old kindergarten school over at the Baptist church three days a week, don’t you, Ralphie?” No response from Ralphie. “Here, show Cousin Celie and her friend how good you know your numbers, Ralphie.” Doreen tried to pry him away from her legs, to no avail. “Come on, Ralphie, one . . . two . . . three . . . Count for us and show what a big boy you are.” Ralphie wouldn’t deliver.
    â€œOh well, maybe another time,” Celia said.
    â€œYeah, maybe so,” Doreen said. “Well, come on then, sport, let’s go back out here to the kitchen and finish up your din-din.” She grinned at Celia. “He loves fish fixed like this.” She nodded toward the plate she was holding.
    This came as no surprise to Celia. Breaded fish sticks that came frozen in a box would be exactly the kind of food her relatives would love. Give them a fresh fillet of flounder amandine or Chilean sea bass, and they wouldn’t have a clue what it was.
    Doreen waved. “Talk to you later, Celie.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “We’re eating out here with Candy. You remember Candy—she’s married now and has her a baby. She’s trying to nurse him, but she’s afraid she doesn’t have enough milk.”
    For a moment Celia didn’t understand. Surely this wasn’t the same Candy she remembered—Aunt Elsie’s “change of life baby,” as everybody had