Read Online Rainbow's End by James M. Cain - Free Book Online Page B

the same name and went into the hospital there, the clinic they had on Fourth Street. But then, when she couldn’t keep it, she begged me to take it and raise it. So to do that I had to get married. We were going to, Jody and I, but we weren’t ready to then. But with her nursing that baby, he was so cute. I wanted him. So we went and got married sooner, sooner than we had intended. I love you, I always did, but you’re not my child at all, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t—”
    â€œShouldn’t what?”
    â€œWhatever I feel like!”
    â€œLike bellering around?”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?”
    â€œI mean Jezebellering.”
    â€œYou quit talking to me like that!”
    â€œAnd you quit talking to me like that! That’s a hot one, Mom, ain’t it? All of a sudden, so you can unzip my pants and take out what’s in there, you tell me you’re not my mother. Isn’t it time to laugh?”
    She pushed me out of the way, got up, and turned on the light. Then she stood pulling her dress and twisting it, to straighten out the places where it was ripped or torn or strained. Then she went in the living room where the light was already on and sat down. After a while she said: “If you want to laugh, laugh. I wouldn’t know what at.”
    â€œAt that comical tale you told.”
    â€œIf it’s comical to you, it’s comical to you. It never was to me. And it never was to Big Myra.”
    Why it took so long for it to sink in, to penetrate my mind, that it might be true what she’d said, I don’t have any idea. Until then it hadn’t occurred to me even to wonder about it. But when she mentioned Big Myra, who I’d always supposed was my aunt, I suddenly had a flash. I saw the look Aunt Myra would have when she’d bring me a toy, a horn or a skateboard or a drum, that always made me so happy. She looked a little like Mom, a shade taller, and slim, but instead of being pretty, beautiful—pale, with blue-black hair and big black mountain eyes. That coloring, they say, comes from Indian blood. She doted on me, and God knows I doted on her—and I knew now the reason both ways. I went over to Mom, put my hand on her head, turned her face to the light, and said: “You’re telling me the truth?”
    â€œYes, of course I am.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me before?”
    â€œIt was part of how we fixed it up. I had to promise I’d never tell you, so—”
    â€œSo what?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t mess things up.”
    â€œWith Aunt Myra, you mean?”
    â€œHer or—anyone.”
    It must have been five minutes before it dawned on me who she was talking about.
    â€œYou mean, my father?”
    â€œI mean like I said, with anyone .”
    â€œGoddamn it, answer me.”
    â€œOK then, with him.”
    â€œWho is ‘him’?”
    â€œI don’t know; she never said.”
    â€œMom, spit it out. Who am I?”
    â€œDon’t you think I’d say if I knew? Now that I’ve said this much? She was working in Logan County, had a job with the Boone County Coal Corporation, a typist or something. And a guy came along who was married. He was taking a survey for a bus line they wanted to run. She never would say who he was, and that’s all I know about it.”
    More time went by while I soaked that up a bit. Then: “Mom, did he have something to do with it, the deal you made about me? Did he want you to take me too?”
    â€œI don’t know. I never saw him. Maybe he came on, maybe he stayed with her there in Marietta while we were talking about it. She never said. I don’t know.”
    â€œAnd why did you take me in?”
    â€œI already said, I loved you.”
    â€œAnd my father, I mean Jody Howell, what did he think about it? Did he love me?”
    â€œAt least he loved me—then.”
    â€œAnd that’s why he