There was a nice aroma in the kitchen as they had their drinks. Corky hoped it would linger, and that Will would come into the house knowing there was something good for him to eat — something special. She thought about getting out the icing tube but decided that frosting the cupcakes with a spatula would be good enough.
“And do you know what Eddie thinks?” Corinne said. “He thinks I’m sweet on the minister. He honestly seems to think that.”
“Well, at least he agreed to quit the softball team,” Corky said.
“That’s true,” Corinne said, taking a sip of her drink. “Umm,” she said. “An adult milkshake.”
One song fed into another. The song now was “Cherish.”
“Have you had any luck talking Wayne into a baby?” Corinne said.
“I think that he really wants one. He’s just scared,” Corky said. “But if he and Will can start to have a better relationship, maybe that’ll pave the way for another baby.”
“Will’s not a bad boy, is he?” Corinne said.
“He’s always been a nice child. I know that as boys get older they get more troublesome, but I think a lot of it has to do with how you treat them. I have to say that his mother seems to have done a good job.”
“It’s none of my business, but why did they get divorced?”
“He says they just married too young. And that she was always intent on having a career. You know, he was married to another woman before her, and she died in a car accident. When something like that happens it can make you very afraid of the future.”
“A car accident?” Corinne said. She put her hand on the baby’s bootie.
“She and Wayne were having a trial separation. She was in the car alone, somewhere in the South, where her parents lived, and they think she missed a turn — ended up at the bottom of a ravine. I think it was raining.”
Telling the story, Corky realized she did not know the details at all. If it hadn’t been raining, why would such an accident have happened?
“And then he married — what is her name?” Corinne said.
“Jody. He was still grieving when he met Jody, and they were too young to be married, because apparently she was very independent, and she didn’t understand how important carpentry was to him. She just wanted him to be an intellectual.”
Her own voice stunned her. She was making up stories. And it was easy to do! No malice was intended. She just filled in the blanks with whatever seemed appropriate. Her heart went out to him: His heart had been broken when his first wife plunged into the ravine. In trying to disentangle himself from his sad fate, he had acted too quickly, married impulsively, let himself be drawn into a relationship in which a woman expected too many concessions, too soon. That he had emerged as little scathed as he had was testament to his solidity. His fine values.
Corky had finished her drink. The timer went off, and she inserted a toothpick into the cupcakes, careful not to burn her hand on the top of the oven. The toothpick came out clean. The cupcakes were baked. As Corinne moved her chair aside to escape the oven’s pulsing heat, the doorbell rang. Corky stopped, oven mitt suspended in midair.
“That can’t be Will,” Corky said.
The doorbell rang again.
“Where’s Wayne?” she whispered.
She went toward the door. Simply rushed forward, as if she needed fresh air. She thought again of the day she stood with her mother in the side yard, and of her mother’s words: “I’m just airing the mattress. Is it a crime to air the mattress?”
Mel stood in front of Corky, taller than she remembered, pale and obviously tired. Standing beside him was Will, the small boy who would determine her future. Corky bent forward and kissed Will on the cheek. “We’re so happy you’re here,” she said, realizing as she spoke that there was no we. She folded her arms around him. What would she say when she let go?
The awkward handshake with Mel. They never knew whether to embrace or to shake hands.
Beyond Corky, Will saw the baby on the table. He wondered if he had a brother or a sister. He wished that Wag could be his brother. As they came up the front walk, Mel had made him promise that he would not ask about visiting Wag until the next morning.
EIGHTEEN
I should of brought my camera,” Susan said. “I put it out and everything, and then I just forgot it.” It was the end of the day and everyone was in good spirits. To Wayne’s amazement, Corky actually seemed to enjoy talking to Susan. If he had overheard correctly, Corky was going to see if Marian was hiring anyone else for part-time work at Bathing Beauties. He felt a twinge of gratitude toward Corky, not because he cared anything about Susan, but simply because Corky really did have a good heart. She cared what happened to people who were down on their luck. Wayne knew that, in a way, both he and Will were down on their luck. He was grateful for her affection toward them. It seemed that she and Will had really warmed up to each other after their day of exploration in the gem store. Will wore a small bluish crystal around his neck. The crystal was crisscrossed with thin leather cords and dangled like a miniature papoose. He gave Corky credit for knowing what Will would like. He would never have thought of cupcakes and crystals. And the boy could swim! He was really pleased when he saw that — as pleased as a parent learning that his child had tried out for, and made, the Olympic team. Maybe one day Will would: Will, butterfly-stroking on TV, with a muscular body the girls would all adore, a body that would make the men take it easy on the buttered popcorn. Right now Will was a little skinny.
Wayne wished this could be his life. That being at a pool with people he liked, on a sunny day when no one had to work and everyone was in good spirits, could be the norm instead of the exception. Of course, it was also very pleasant to know that Kate was pining away for him, waiting for the moment when he could sneak away. And it was because the lady of the house was sweet on him that they were all at the pool. Zeke had let that be known, in a none-too-subtle way. Who could figure it: Instead of being jealous, Corky had actually been proud to find that Wayne’s attributes had been noticed.
Susan had brought a cooler filled with cans of Hawaiian Punch. There was also a pint of rum, which was added to the adults’ drinks in big splashes that made the bottle dwindle to almost nothing after the first round. There were chicken salad sandwiches. Corky had even been smart enough to put in two slices of white bread, in case Will objected to the pita pockets, which he had. She really understood small children. Wayne had thrown in two tins of stolen anchovies and a tube of tomato paste — a wonderful combination, spread on Saltines — to get into the spirit of the picnic. Zeke had brought homemade pickles, which had been delivered to the doorstep of his trailer by his mother. Every week she dropped off food and a written progress report on her lobbying efforts to get his father to forgive him for having been thrown out of the Army. In her notes she always referred to his father as “Ret. Col. Pyke.”