Free The Seventh Mother by Sherri Wood Emmons Page A

as hell don’t need no dessert.” The man’s voice boomed through the restaurant. Other people stared at their plates. I felt my cheeks redden.
    “How ’bout some more coffee, then?” Resa asked.
    The woman nodded in silence, her head low.
    I followed Resa into the kitchen. “Who’s that?” I asked, nodding at the table she’d just left.
    “That’s Damon Rigby and his wife, Shirley. Poor thing, she just ain’t got no backbone at all.” Resa shook her head. “If I was married to Damon, one of us would be dead by now, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be me!”
    “Ya’ll keep your gossip to yourselves,” Harlan growled from behind the counter, slamming down a slice of pie and a cup of coffee. “Ain’t none of our business.”
    He handed me another plate. “Table seven,” he said.
    I carried the plate to the table and smiled at the young man in the booth. His greasy hair hung low over his forehead and he slouched like he was half-asleep.
    “Anything else?”
    He shook his head. “Thanks, Emma. I’m good.”
    As I worked the dinner rush, I kept glancing at the table where Damon Rigby was shoveling pie and ice cream into his mouth, while his poor wife sipped decaf and never raised her eyes. It made me angry, angrier than I’d felt in a long time.
    When they finally left, I bused the table, collecting a very small tip for Resa, not even ten percent. What a jerk!
    That night as we cleaned tables and mopped the floor, I asked Resa, “So what’s the deal with that Rigby guy?”
    “He’s bad news,” she said, grimacing. “A real bully, always has been. Even when we were kids in school he was mean. I don’t know why Shirley stays with him. Don’t know why she married him in the first place, except maybe because he had money. He owns that car lot out on Greensburg. Inherited it from his daddy.”
    I sighed, thinking of the women I’d known as a child. “Maybe she doesn’t think she has a choice,” I said.
    “Honey, this is the United States of America!” Resa leaned against the mop and frowned at me. “Of course she’s got a choice. She just ain’t got no backbone.”
    “I knew a lot of women like that back home,” I said. “They didn’t feel like they had any choice. It’s the way they were raised. If no one ever treats you like a real person, you kind of start thinking maybe you’re not. Like maybe nothing good happens to you because you don’t deserve it.”
    She stared at me. “Well, hon,” she said after a pause, “you are the living proof that you always get a choice. You could’ve stayed where you were and been like that. But you didn’t. You got a spine. I don’t see you staying with a man who treated you the way Damon treats Shirley.”
    I bent over to wipe a table. I didn’t want Resa to see my cheeks, which were hot and red.
    “Sometimes, it takes a little help, is all,” I said.
    “Now you listen to me, Emma.” She walked over and put her hand on my shoulder. “I know it ain’t pretty to watch, but Shirley’s marriage is her own problem. Don’t you go getting any ideas about trying to save her. Damon Rigby is bad news. You don’t want to cross him.”
    “Resa’s right about that,” Harlan yelled from the kitchen. “You stay the hell out of his way.”
    I nodded. “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I said.
    “That’s my girl.” Resa beamed at me. “I knew you were a smart one the minute I laid eyes on you. Well,” she laughed then and flicked me with her washrag, “when I could tear my eyes off that man of yours. Lord God almighty, he is a fine-looking man.”
    I smiled at her and then laughed. “He is nice to look at, isn’t he? I feel pretty lucky.”
    “And your little girl’s a beauty, too.”
    “Oh,” I stammered. “Jenny’s not my daughter. I’m kind of her stepmom, I guess. But not really.”
    “Ya’ll ain’t married?” Resa looked me up and down.
    I shook my head. “We only met in June.”
    “Well, I’ll be damned,” she