Here’s a scene from my WIP, Fat and Sassy. Bea and Casey arrived back in Arkansas with a carload of kids in the spring of 1942. They stay with Papa, in the shanty in the ‘holler’ that Bea grew up in. Not finding work, Casey arrives home with an announcement.
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Bea heard the old Chevy chugging along the dirt road towards the house. She shifted Tom to her other hip and reached for the percolator, holding it out of his grasping hands. She placed it on the wood stove to warm up.
“Hush,” she murmured to the baby. “Daddy’s home, now be a good boy. He’s had a long day out looking for work.”
“Mae,” she hollered out the open doorway where the children chased chickens in the dirt yard. “Bring Bill and Helen in and git ‘em washed up. Daddy’s almost home.”
Before the little ones gathered, the car pulled up, gave one last rattley cough and silenced.
“Daddy … Daddy ,” the three children gathered around the car. Little Bill jumped up and down as if springs were under his bare feet.
The children were excited to see Daddy. And young. They didn’t notice the weariness etched in his face, nor the defeat that settled around his shoulders as a cloak.
Casey stooped to embrace the children in his arms. A smile crossed his face and a glimmer of delight shined in his eyes. The world hadn’t defeated him yet. He had his wife and his children.
He picked up Helen, the smallest, and grabbed Mae’s hand. Bill bounced alongside of them into the wooden shanty they called home at the moment. Bea handed him a hot mug when he entered the doorway. He settled down into a rickety chair, careful not to upset the steaming coffee. He bounced Helen on his knee. “We’re moving to Misery.”
“We’re moving to Missouri, just like that?” Bea asked, a frown making it clear what she thought of the idea. “Isn’t that kind of abrupt?”
“I got word from Uncle Scott. He said there’s work up there. He said we can stay with him until we get on our feet. There’s plenty of room on the farm and I’ll help out with harvesting until I find work.”
“When do you intend on moving? I’m about ready to drop this baby. I don’t want to be birthin’ it on the road.”
“Then, we’d better get a giddyup in our step and get there sooner rather than later. We’ll go next week.”
“Humph”, Bea muttered under her breath. “That’s one good thing about not having a pot to piss in. It doesn’t take nuttin’ to pile it all in the jalopy and move on down the road.”