Blue Stew (Second Edition) (25 page)

She shut the door, giggling.

Nothing could’ve stopped Walter then. He leaned towards Maddie, took her gently by the back of her head, and brought her lips to his. She did not in any way resist.

P
receded by the longest and most brilliantly contrasted week he would ever care know, that following winter was—all things considered—the happiest time of Walter Boyd’s life.

For those who think about things too deeply, this type of statement can drag along bittersweet undertones, because the flipside asserts that Walter will never be so happy ever again—it puts a ceiling on his happiness for the rest of his life. The truth is, though, Walter would not have been bothered if he could’ve known this fact, for the ceiling was set so high that there was still bountiful room in which
anyone
could lead a long, happy life.

Walter had never been
opposed
to the notion of fate. No, he had just never experienced any good evidence of it. How perfectly his relationship with Maddie Wendell blossomed that winter was the first. He knew that if they’d gotten together in high school or his first few years in college—and he couldn’t figure what had stopped them, besides his monumental bone-headedness keeping him blind to her interest in him—he would’ve spoiled everything by acting his age and doing something juvenile: settling down with someone had been the
last
thing on his mind back in those days. Then, if they’d gotten together in his darker days—spanning the end of college to only two days before he had asked her out—he
certainly
would’ve found a way rot apart any chances of long-term happiness together.

Yes, their getting together when they did seemed perfect. Walter was
finally
ready for her, while Maddie—for reasons that made sense to her alone—had been waiting stubbornly for him the whole time. It was a wondrous thing which straddled the line—in Walter’s mind, at any rate—between happy coincidence and maybe something a little more.

The typical dating phase, when they looked back over it, struck them both as more socially mandatory than necessary. After their first brunch at the Silver Tap Sugar Shack, the two probably could’ve moved in together that very night and everything would’ve worked out fine. Not to imply that it was at all burdensome for either party, dressing nice and heading into town to eat at classy restaurants, or to go bowling, or going to the theaters. No, those nights would become some of the brightest, best memories for both Walter and Maddie, if only because that was how it all began. But, after just a week and a half in which they strictly saw each other during cookie-cutter dates, Maddie was the first to act on what they’d both been feeling.

She called Walter around four-thirty one evening, when she knew he’d be home from work.

“I know we were supposed to go out
tomorrow
,” she said after their happy hellos, “but . . . do you wanna just come over and . . .
hang out
?”

And of course Walter did.

That night, as it turned out, was the first snowfall of the young winter, and the winter that year started strong. Walter, later, would accuse Maddie of planning everything to happen the way it did, though he never got her to admit to any of it.

As with most of the rooms in the Wendell’s huge three-story farmhouse (four, if you count the large, musky attic), the second-level living room was spacious, yet still cozy in its own way. The walls and the tall ceiling were pieced together with old, roughly cut boards harvested a hundred years back when the forest land had been cleared and transformed into grazing land. The furniture was just as old—some of it appeared to be every bit a fixture of the house as the stone foundation itself—and all of it carried a pleasant coating of many seasons of dust.

Maddie and Walter were cuddling on the big, shaggy couch in this second-level living room when Grant Wendell—Maddie’s father—plodded up the stairs, having just come from outside. He swatted white powder off of one shoulder and asked in a low voice, “So are you spending the night tonight, Walter?”

Walter raised an eyebrow, “No, no sir . . . I was gonna be out of your hair before dinner . . .”

“You’re not going
anywhere
if you don’t get scooting
real
fast.”

“What are you talking about, Dad?” Maddie made a face at him.

“It’s a blizzard out there, Maddie. Don’t either of you watch the news?”

Walter’s face flushed. That day, everyone at work had been talking about the big storm sweeping up the east coast. He jumped to his feet, answering honestly, “I didn’t know it was supposed to start so
early
.”

Maddie, however, kept quiet. And while Walter scrambled downstairs, herded along by Grant, Maddie, looking out of the windows, was the only one to protest. She said it was already too deep for his tiny car. She said, in addition, that he could just walk to Kall’s tomorrow from the farmhouse, whereas he wouldn’t make it there until, at
best
, midday if he had to wait for the plows to clear the route from
his
place.

Walter internally agreed, but externally disagreed and carried through the deliberate motions of getting himself together to leave.

“Dad, don’t let him go. He won’t get anywhere with his little baby car.”

“
Hey
.”

A deep sigh. “You’re right. Walter, stay for dinner. You can sleep on the couch.”

“Wow, thank you so much, Mister Wendell.”

“Stop calling him ‘Mister Wendell,’” Maddie laughed. There was that light in her eyes again.

“No, no, I enjoy it,” Grant said with a grin that creased his face up to his eyes. His old skin showed the effects of a life under the sun. Walter envied him. “Between you and your mom, it’s nice to get a little respect once in a while . . .”

Dinner was lovely. Donna Wendell, Maddie’s Mom, was a fine cook, and she and Grant were gracious, humble hosts. There were a handful of instances throughout the warm, social meal when Walter’s chest filled with joy at the thought of one day marrying into this family.

It was a very nice evening.

One simple act, however, catapulted that night to the absolute peak of what would be the best winter—and best
time
—of Walter’s life.

Sunk deep into the couch, Walter had been lying awake for over an hour, peering thoughtfully into the dark of the sleeping house. He was impressed by the variety of creaking tones a large house can make as it gets buffeted by a blowing snowstorm outside.

From having gone to the bathroom just before settling down for the night, Walter knew how loud the floorboards could be. She must’ve been timing her movements with the bursts of wind outside, then, because wide-awake and alert as he was, Walter never heard her approach, not before she spoke.

“Hi,” was all Maddie ever said, before settling down and cozying up beside Walter.

Walter, his mind kicked up into a warm daze, rolled to his side to make room. He lifted his blanket over her and pulled her back against his front. His senses flamed with excitement.

Her skin was much colder than his. How slowly had she been creeping through the house’s long, chilly hallways?

Walter began stroking her shoulders.

“You’re cold,” he whispered.

She made an agreeable noise and took Walter’s hand and brought it to her hips, where she wasn’t as cold, and moved it in a slow circle. She was only wearing a nightshirt, nothing more. Walter suddenly felt like he was floating many miles up in the sky, twisting through wispy clouds. Maddie brought his hand to her waist, and from there gradually up her soft body, all the way to her large, warm breasts.

“You’re not so cold here,” Walter said thickly.
Why
was he talking? He felt wonderfully, blissfully stupid as he grouped her chest.

Maddie now began moving her midsection, pressing against Walter’s own.

Then he felt her hand reaching behind her, pushing down the waist-strap of his boxers . . .

It would be the first of many such highlights that winter.

•   •   •

After that night, the restrictions built into the typical dating phase of a budding couple were shattered. Both Walter and Maddie took to calling each other whenever they liked, with no plans or pretense expected, and took to hanging out with each other whenever they liked, too—which ended up being far more often than not.

After Maddie had spent the better part of two weeks sleeping over at Walter’s place, Donna pulled Walter aside on what would be just the third night over at the Wendell farmhouse.

Making sure her husband couldn’t hear, she said, “Just sleep in her bed tonight, for goodness sake. You two are full-grown adults.”

His face turning red, Walter replied in a wavering voice, “Oh. Okay, thanks.”

•   •   •

Nigel and Henry, all the while, couldn’t have been happier for Walter.

It didn’t diminish their endorsement of the relationship at all when Maddie fast became a fixture in their tight circle of friends. They had known her since high school, and though they hadn’t spent much time with her in smaller groups previously, both men had always held positive opinions of Maddie. Helped along by their predispositions, soon this became just another faucet of Walter’s and Maddie’s relationship that fit itself together perfectly—so perfectly, in fact, that it became hard for everyone, after just a few short weeks, to remember how things had been
before
Maddie had entered the picture.

Walter, personally, had changed his world so completely that stray memories of his mindset and outlook from the summer before were so far from where he now stood that it was hard to fathom any of it. As far as he cared, his old life had just been a long, sour dream.

He was awake now.

•   •   •

In mid-January, Walter, Nigel, Henry, and their three girlfriends were out on an informal triple-date at a family-style barbeque restaurant. They were motoring through an opening course of steaming beans and hot cornbread when Henry casually broke the news that would alter the shape of the remaining winter for all of them.

Until that conversation, Walter couldn’t have imagined any way to make things better than they already were.

“So, Greg was talking to Doris Hanes’s son yesterday,” he said, finishing a mouthful of buttered cornbread. “Apparently she’s looking at places in Burlington.”

Walter’s face, for the first time in quite a while, dropped.

“Really? That
really
sucks. Poor woman . . .”

“Yeah. They’re looking into renting out the place here. She still can’t bring herself to sell it.”

“Really?” Walter’s face lit right back up, though he tried to temper the enthusiasm in his voice. “How much would they want?”

Nigel gave Walter a quizzical look, “
You
would want to live there?”

“
Sure
. It’s a
beautiful
house; great view. I’d just have to deal with a weird neighbor, that’s all.”

Nigel chuckled an obligatory chuckle, “No, but . . . you were
there
, too. You think you’d be okay?”

“Definitely. I’ve got thicker skin than some old lady, don’t I? Plus, think of where I live now.
Anything’s
an upgrade over
that
.” Walter looked about his company, “Wouldn’t you guys love to hang out up there? Have game nights on the covered porch with the view of the valley?”