Love Is Where You Find It

Part 1

Doo hasn't been home in weeks and though Loretta would like to claim that this is unusual, it's not. She was in a state of panic the first time it happened, but by now it's really nothing to write home about. Not that she would ever write home about it.

Her parents, still miles away through not up in the hollers anymore, are oblivious to her reality. Loretta shares only the good things. Like the little stories about her four children; the grandchildren her daddy so longs to be with.

Sometimes she wonders if they should have came to Washington at all. It wasn't really a choice though, at least not for her. Doo would have gone either way and she was already expecting their first.

She knows that life isn't supposed to be easy but she thinks that it doesn't have to be so hard. It gets a bit hard to bear when he stays away so long. They run out of money and along with it of food. Loretta sends her kids to school knowing that they won't get anything to eat when everyone else is having lunch and for that she hates herself.

Her mommy and daddy always fed them no matter what. She thinks that the kids are starting to understand more than she wants them to. Betty's eight now and Jack, seven. Ernest and Cissie will be six and five respectively in spring.

Spring...she sighs as the thought of the season enters her mind, because her -their- bedroom is ice cold. Loretta doesn't know how long she slept, but she feels as if she hadn't slept at all.

It's Saturday today, but she knows that the kids must be starting to wake up. Loretta has to get up, to get dressed and do...something. Get them something to eat. You can't pluck weeds or steal berries or apples in the middle of January.

"Mommy?" A little voice chimes from the doorway. "There's more snow."

Loretta, who hasn't looked out of the window as of yet, didn't realize. She silently prays that it'll melt before Monday.

"Are you awake?" Another little voice this time. "Ernest is bothering me."

"You bother me!" Ernest protests. "Mommy!"

Cissie runs into the room and bounces onto the bed beside her mother, paying no attention whatsoever to the boys. Jack and Ernest are always fighting, and it usually gets worse in times like these.

"Betty said we have to get out," Cissie tells her mother.

"Out of the bedroom?"

"Uh-huh. That's what she said."

The kids share a room with bunk beds, all four of them. Loretta longs for a bigger home, with a room for the boys and another for the girls. They're getting older and she couldn't imagine having to share a room with her brothers when she was thirteen.

"She's not allowed to do that," Ernest declares, referring to Betty Sue. He is holding a wooden sword, which he bangs against the side of the door.

"Ernest," Loretta scolds, "You don't get to do that either."

"I'm hungry," Jack complains. "Mommy, I'm-"

"Mommy heard you," Loretta says, as Cissie snuggles up against her side. "I'll see what we got, baby."

A whole lot of nothing, that's what they have. Loretta scoops Cissie up and makes her way toward the kitchen, taking the toy sword out of Ernest's hand on the way.

"Hey," her son complains.

There's some dry cereal in the kitchen. She divides it among four bowls, setting three of them in front of the children present before going to find her oldest. Betty Sue is laying on her bed with a book in between her hands.

"Betty, you can't just kick everyone outta the room. It's theirs too."

Betty Sue frowns up at her, then holds out the book. "You read?"

"A little bit," Loretta agrees because she knows that her oldest hasn't been getting the attention she should. Betty probably reads better than her mother by now, but that's not what it's about. Betty hands her mother the book while Loretta hands her daughter the bowl of cereal.

Betty wrinkles her nose at the food.

"You gotta eat if you want me to read to you."

Betty sighs, but shuffles a spoon full into her mouth. "When is he coming back now?"

Loretta hesitates then says, "I don't know, baby, but it should be soon."

Betty flips the pages of the book to select a story for her mother to read. They're about halfway through when Cissie appears in the doorway.

"Go away," Betty snaps.

"Why can't she hear the story too?" Loretta asks but Betty doesn't respond. "Did you eat all your food, Cissie?"

"Yeah," Cissie chimes.

By the time they finish the story, all four of them are in there. Loretta takes them back to the living room and picks up the old guitar Doolittle got her for their anniversary. He told her that she could be a singer, but all she does is sing her babies to sleep. She lines them up on the couch and makes them listen to her.

"You sing pretty, Mommy," says Ernest, her little charmer. Jack elbows him in response- hard.

"Boys," Loretta scolds before Ernest can hit him back. "Jackie, come here and sit next to me."

"The mailman," Cissie proclaims while leaning over the back of the couch to look out of the window. "The mailman's here!"

She has some kind of obsession with the mail as of late. "Do you wanna get the mail?"

Cissie nods enthusiastically. "Yes."

"Then get your shoes and jacket on."

She runs off to do so, coming in a few minutes later so her mother can help her with the jacket. It's torn and tattered, having gone through Betty and at least one more child before that. She lets Cissie run the short distance to the mailbox. Cissie comes back and plonks several letters down on the table. Loretta picks them up, goes through them. There's bills that she can't pay and at first it looks like there's nothing else. Until she comes across a letter that looks like the address was written on it in Doo's sloppy handwriting.

She tears it open without thought, hoping for good news all the while.

Dear Loretta,

I'm not coming home now. All the love I had for you is gone. I just can't. I don't even know what to say.

Goodbye Loretta. Doo.

Once she's read it, Loretta reads it again. And again. And again. Until Ernest asks, "What's it say?"

Loretta opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Because panic assaults her as she inhales jagged breaths. All she can do is think 'Dear god, what am I gonna do?'