Cranberry Red: A Novel

3. Beth Wesley

Ben Wesley quickly decided the worst part of losing his job was telling his wife. He and Beth had been married for twenty-one years. They had two kids: Liz, a junior at the University of Wisconsin–Madison; and Josh, in his first year at Mid-State Technical College in Wisconsin Rapids. It was no time to lose his job. With two kids in college, plus the mortgage on his house, his expenses had never been higher. “I’m home,” Ben said when he entered their modest house on Cedar Drive in Willow River, the county seat for central Wisconsin’s Ames County. The lawn needed cutting and weeds had overgrown the flowerbed next to the sidewalk. The house could use a coat of paint. Josh was spending the summer at his grandparents’ farm in Clark County, so he was not around to help. Liz had a summer job in Wisconsin Dells, at one of those water parks. Ben had hardly seen either of the kids so far this summer. How should I break the news to Beth? he thought. He’d never been fired before—he hadn’t been fired this time either—except come July 1, he wouldn’t have a job. Comes out the same way. Laid off or fired. He’d still have no income. “How’s Mr. Agricultural Agent today?” Beth said by way of greeting. Ben couldn’t tell by the tone of her voice if she’d had a good day or not. Beth never quite appreciated what being an agricultural agent meant, as she was a city girl, having grown up in Chicago. She, from the very beginning of Ben’s career in Ames County, thought he worked too hard and 10 Beth Wesley 3 11 Beth Wesley put in too many hours for the pay he received. Just yesterday she’d said, “Ben, when are you going to start saying no? You’re always working. Every evening. Almost every Saturday and Sunday. We never have any weekends together.” Ben knew she had a point. Over the years, Beth had by herself attended the kids’ school events, taken them to the doctor and dentist, and listened to their problems because he was at some meeting or was out on a farm call dealing with some problem that couldn’t wait. “I’m beat,” Ben said. “Bitch of a day.” “Well, you don’t have to swear about it.” “‘Bitch’ isn’t swearing.” “Sounds like swearing to me—thought we had a rule. No swearing in this house.” “Any beer in the fridge?” Ben was trying to think of a way of telling Beth his job was gone. He had a fierce headache, the kind that started just above his left eye and ended up in his neck. A stress headache, the doctor had once told him when he described the symptoms. “How am I supposed to know if we’ve got any beer? I don’t drink the stuff.” “Sounds like your day wasn’t too great, either,” Ben said, still wondering how he was going to say what he knew he must. “What do you care about my job?” “Well, I care. More than you think.” “I doubt that. What do you know about what I do? Next to nothing. I’m on my feet all day, running up and down hospital halls answering patient calls, listening to whining doctors. We’re always shorthanded. Never enough aides. Every shift at the hospital someone doesn’t show up. At least once a week I have to do a double shift. Bet you didn’t know that.” Beth’s green eyes opened wide as she spoke. “I’ve got some news,” Ben said quietly as he opened the refrigerator, found a bottle of Leinie’s Red, and popped off the cap. He took a long drink from the bottle. “I hope you’re gonna tell me you got a raise.” “No. I did not get a raise.” “So, what’s the news?” “I . . . I got laid off. The office is closing July 1. No more agricultural agent in Ames County.” “You’ve been fired.” Beth raised her voice a bit. “The bastards in Madison fired you.” “Yup, I’m all through in two weeks.” “Why’d they fire you?” “Fired all the county agricultural agents.” “All of them?” “Yeah.” For a time they both just stood there in the kitchen...