Read Online Olivia, Mourning by Yael Politis - Free Book Online

Place’s bread and pies were too good for them to be able to boycott her establishment, but they sniffed their noses whenever they mentioned “that woman’s bakery.”
    Now, as they passed Mrs. Place’s house, Olivia watched out of the corner of her eye, trying to take in every detail of the house and bakery without turning her head. She had often gone into the shop to buy bread and cookies when she was a little girl and Mrs. Place had always been kind to her. She used to tuck extra treats into the bag and call Olivia “you sweet child.”
    Olivia couldn’t remember how old she had been when she first heard one of the busybodies say it outright – call Jettie Place “Old Man Killion’s whore.” But she had been old enough to have a vague idea what that meant. Her father and Mrs. Place must get in a bed together and do whatever the horrible thing is that husbands and wives do. Olivia had gone into “Jettie’s Place” a few times after that and stood staring up at “the whore” – a tired-looking woman with bright yellow hair and rouged cheeks and a laugh that was too quick and too loud. It was difficult for Olivia to imagine Mrs. Place and her father sipping a cup of tea together. Removing their clothing? Impossible.
    Not that Olivia minded the idea of her father having a connection with another woman. Her mother had died a long time ago, so there was no reason to mind on her account. Olivia simply failed to understand. Why on earth would anyone want to be in the same room with her father when he didn’t have his clothes on? Olivia had seen his drooping potbelly and spindly legs. He hadn’t exactly been a sparkling personality either. He spent all day in the store, took short breaks for his meals, and then did the accounts or read for a few hours before retiring. Saturday nights he played whist with friends. At least so he told his children. That must have been when he did his fornicating with the woman who called herself “Mrs.” although Olivia had never seen any evidence of a Mr. Place, dead or alive. She wondered if her brothers had heard the same whispers about their “carrying on.” They must have, but Olivia had never spoken to them about it. Not even Tobey. Not until the day before her father died.
    Now, as they neared the cemetery, Olivia slipped her arm through Tobey’s. “I’m already forgetting him,” she said. “I’ve been trying to remember what his laugh sounded like, but I can’t.”
    “We didn’t hear it all that much,” Tobey said. “Except for when he’d say that one thing he used to repeat all the time, until one day Mrs. Brewster got after him.”
    “What thing?”
    “Don’t you remember? Whenever Avis or me started acting smart, he’d elbow us in the ribs and say, ‘Well, I guess you’re a pretty fart smeller, aren’t you?’ Then he’d laugh.”
    Olivia forced a smile and they walked on in silence.
    “Have you seen her since that day?” Olivia nodded ever so slightly back toward “Jettie’s Place.”
    “No. You?”
    Olivia shook her head. She didn’t know if her father had loved her mother and she had no idea what he might have felt for Mrs. Jettie Place. She did know that the rumors about him carrying on with “his whore” were true. He’d left them no doubt of that. The day before he died Seborn had ordered Tobey to bring Mrs. Place to him.

Chapter Six
    The last morning of his life Old Seborn had been wheezing and rheumy-eyed. After bathing him, Olivia asked, “Are you needful of anything else, Father?”
    He retched, spit an enormous gob of brown phlegm into a blue and white porcelain teacup, and nodded toward the bottle of rye whiskey on the dresser. Olivia poured a shot into a clean cup and watched him take a sip and cough.
    “Yes, I am most needful – of having Mrs. Jettie Place brought to me. Tell Tobey to go fetch her.”
    Olivia expressed no objection. Once she recovered from the shock of this request, she was more curious than anything else.