“Yeah, I guess he is.”
“I wish you two could believe the way I do. Then it wouldn’t be so bad. I really believe that God will take him to heaven. And I don’t mean angels and harps and all that stuff. That’s for children. But to a place where he’ll know real peace. You know he’s never gotten over his brother dying. Or your brother dying, either. All our lives I’d see him sitting alone sometimes, and he’d have the same kind of tears you just had in your eyes. And I always knew who he was remembering. In the days when it would get real bad with him, I’d hold him and rock him the way I used to hold you and your sister and brother. And rock you the same way. And I never felt closer to him than I did then. Because I’d never felt so needed or useful.” She wrenched away without warning and moments later was sobbing into the hands covering her face.
I went over and held her. Her entire body shook. I remembered doing this when I was twelve years old. My father had fallen on the ice and cracked his skull. For several hours, the docs wondered if he’d live. I’d never seen my mother cry like that. I hadn’t known what to do. I just stood still and let her cling to me. Finally I put my arms around her and patted her back the way I would pat a dog. It was stupid, the way I handled it, but I could tell it helped her.
“And here I’m the one telling you we need to be happy,” she said, pulling her apron up from her waist to pat the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath. “Potato salad and cold cuts and slices of fresh melon and iced tea. How does that sound?”
“That sounds great.”
“There should be a vegetable, but he hates them as much as you do.”
“I learned from the master.”
“I’m going to run to the bathroom and freshen up. Would you mind setting the table, and then we’ll be ready to eat?”
“Fine.”
There were the everyday dishes and the special dishes. I used the former. Paper napkins, too, not the cloth ones. I used to get an extra quarter a week on my allowance if I set the table every night. I decided not to charge her this week.
When we were all set, when my mother was placing the food on the table, I went in and woke my father. Or tried to. This was one of those terrifying times when he didn’t respond right away. One of those terrifying times when I was almost certain that he was dead.
But then his head raised and his eyes opened and he gazed up at me with blue eyes that were both innocent and ancient. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned down and gave him an awkward hug and kissed him atop his freckled bald head.
Then we went in and ate, and he got to telling some of his favorite war stories, and the happiness my mother wanted came pure and natural to each of us. There was even laughter in the McCain household.
I was pushing open the back door when the phone rang. Wouldn’t be for me. Didn’t live here any more. All grown up. More or less. For her last birthday, my mother was the recipient of a yellow wall phone for the kitchen. She was as proud of that phone as I would have been of a 1939 Ford Woody. I had one foot on the rear steps when she said, “It’s for you, Sam.”
When I was just a few steps away she covered the phone and said, “It’s a woman.”
“A woman?” my father smiled. “Did you hear that, Sam?”
“It’s fun to be back in seventh grade,” I said. “Our little Sam has a girlfriend.”
My mother swatted me on the arm and winked at my father.
“Hello.”
“My mother always told me that boys didn’t like girls who called them,” Wendy said. “Too forward. The boys lost all respect.”
“I think she was right. I’m so disgusted I’m going to hang up. By the way, we have an audience. My folks. They just told me I have to be in by ten.”
“Well, I’m hoping I can keep you out a little later than that. I’d like to see you, and I also have a little bit of information about Lou Bennett you might find interesting.”
“I’d like to take a shower and change clothes.”
“I was thinking the same thing myself. How does eight sound?”
“Sounds just about right. I’ll pick you up.”
“I really enjoyed seeing you, Sam. That’s all I’ve been thinking about all day. It’s just so weird how things happen sometimes. Good things and bad things.” Then: “By the way, let’s go someplace where we can dance. It’s been a long time for me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Well, I’m no ballerina, so we’re even up. See you at eight.”
After I hung up and peeked around the kitchen door into the dining room, I saw my folks sitting there with their after-dinner coffee smiling at me. They’d seen me forlorn ever since Jane departed.
“And may a mother ask who that was?”
“Wendy Bennett.”
She glanced at my father. “A cheerleader and one of the prettiest girls in the whole high school.”
“Well, Mom, we’re ten years out of high school, so I don’t think stuff like that matters any more.”
But yeah, it still did to immature guys like me. I wanted to call up all the popular boys I’d gone to high school with and say, “Guess who’s got a date with Wendy tonight?” Eat your hearts out.
17
“There’s a letter.” I’d sketched in what I was working on. She looked fascinated.
“What kind of letter?”
“That part I don’t know. All I can tell you is that when I went back to see Linda, I heard David and Roy Davenport arguing about a letter of some kind. I got the impression they couldn’t find it. I was surprised Davenport was even there. Linda hates him.”
We’d had small steaks and scotches and waters and a number of cigarettes. We’d said hello to a combined total of a dozen people (mine were clients, hers were friends). And we’d danced slow to a medley of Platters songs played by a house band that had been in grade school when the Platters had been popular. We’d even danced fast several times. Now we were having our second drinks, sitting in a tiny dark alcove that overlooked the dance floor.
She wore a pale-blue dress and matching one-inch heels. Her face was lightly made up and even prettier than usual. She’d always been a sort of sophisticated version of the girl next door, and adulthood had only enhanced that impression.
She was also stubborn, a quality I’d forgotten about. Not until now was she willing to go back to the brief conversation we’d had earlier about the letter.
“This letter you were telling me about two or three days ago.”
“Very funny. It was just about an hour ago. You’ve held up pretty well for a geezer. I was afraid you might fall asleep on me.”
“They were arguing about a letter.”
“They sure were. Davenport said they had to get busy and find it.”
Somebody looking for a letter might explain why somebody had tossed my office and Kenny’s trailer, knocking out both Turk and Kenny in the process.
“Tell me about Linda’s husband.”
“Do I have to? This soon after eating?” She reached over and patted my hand. “Only because I’m having a good time.” She sipped her scotch and said, “I read a lot of British mystery novels. They’re like fantasies for me. Pure escape. Murder in all those little villages. And David fits right in there. He’s the bounder who seduces all the beautiful married women and lives off his wife’s inheritance.”
“You mean that literally?”
“The part about sleeping with beautiful married women? Of course. My parents are big at the country club, and they always have stories about who David is sleeping with on the side. He’s even been beaten up a few times. Once badly enough to put him in the hospital for a week. Lou despised him. He always begged Linda to get rid of him. But that’s the irony. You know what a snob she is. A very arrogant woman. But she’s completely at the mercy of her husband. I never thought I’d feel sorry for her, but I can’t help myself. It’s almost as if she’s deranged. Obviously she knows what he’s doing. And she also knows that he practically destroyed the two small businesses Lou put him in charge of. Lou had to step in to save them from declaring bankruptcy. She could have so many men-men just as handsome but men who’d treat her the way she deserves. It’s pretty sad when you see them together. The way she looks at him. It’s like puppy love to the highest power. Bryce used to talk about it, too. He and David loathed each other.”