Forever Wife (8 page)

The only way she was going to survive this week was to keep busy.  It was such a relief to know that Vidar owned her family home!  She didn’t have to hide anymore.  She didn’t have to go around on
tiptoes, afraid that the real owner was going to show up and throw her in jail for trespassing.  And somehow… if Vidar owned Camp Birches, and he really did love her, then in a way, sort of, it was still hers.  Almost.  Not quite.  It wasn’t like anything legal had passed between them, but if he truly loved her, if they were truly going to build a life together, then she could live here!  For always!  She never had to leave again!  Joy filled her, and she had to laugh.  She had to dance and clap her hands, or she might simply explode.

She raced through the cabin, greeting every room with renewed hope.  She stripped away all
the remaining sheets and coverings.  She swept and vacuumed, and rearranged the furniture.  If only she could afford some paint, or a few new pieces of furniture… that one morning she had awakened in her parents’ bedroom had been a little freaky. Carefully, she closed that door.  She wouldn’t go in there again until she could redecorate. 

Back in her own bedroom, she gazed at the closet still bursting with dated cloth
ing.  And at the back of the closet were more boxes of clothes – smaller sizes, everything she had ever worn while at the cabin.  From winter jackets to summer swimming suits and all sorts in between, from adult smalls all the way down to infant sizes.  Her parents had been the worst packrats! 

Suddenly she had an idea of how she could come up with a little grocery money.  The next town over used to have a consignment shop where they sold gently used clothing. 
She gathered armload after armload and hauled it down to the  laundry room off the kitchen.  Although everything had surely been packed away clean, it all smelled a little musty.  She would wash everything and then have Tracy take her to Second Time Around – if they were still in business.  Everything would go, except some of the smaller jackets. Those she would donate to Tracy’s school for the annual coat drove they held in the fall.

By Sunday night she had a mountain of clothing to donate, almost enough to open her own store, she thought dryly.  Why had her parents spent so much on her?  Looking back with the eyes of adulthood, she could see that they had spoil
ed her.  They had given her more than any child could possibly want or need.  At first they had been able to afford it.  She knew from studying their past tax returns that they had been very wealthy when she was born.  But after Vidar left, Daddy’s income dropped.  She didn’t understand why.  Maybe Vidar had been the brains of the business all along.  Maybe Daddy had made one bad investment after another… but he had continued to spend money he could no longer afford on his only child.  They insisted she attend a major college, too, when she could just as well have gone to a state school where tuition was half the cost.  She clenched her fists, overcome with anger for her beloved parents.  Why hadn’t they taken better care of each other!  Why hadn’t they lived!  She missed them so!

She fled into their bedroom after all and wrapped herself in their quilt and cried. 

She hadn’t allowed herself to weep when her father told her about Mom having cancer.  She had to be strong for him.  She helped him drive Mom to her doctor visits, watched her grow weaker and weaker, and watched her wonderful Daddy fade before her very eyes.  And then, when the doctors had no more hope, she found out about that new treatment in Mexico.  She mortgaged her horse ranch to buy the tickets for her daddy to take mom.  Mom died there.  And Daddy had a heart attack.  She never saw them alive again.

She had been strong through the funeral.  She returned to work burying her grief, because it was too painful to face it.  And then, she’d had the accident that ended her career.  Vidar was right about one thing, she hadn’t ever allowed herself to grieve.  She cried herself to sleep.  She woke up
hours later, hungry and sore, and cried some more.  And then somehow it happened…. 

Acceptance.

Everything had happened for a reason.  Her parents had been old when she was born… they were never going to live long enough to see her married, to see their grandchildren.  But if they hadn’t passed away, if she hadn’t had the accident, hadn’t lost her ranch, she might never have met up with Vidar again! 

Her parents had given her a safe, secure, loving home.  She grew up knowing that her parents adored her and
each other.  They had given her roots.  Now she had Vidar and he would give her wings. 

Her back complained loudly.  She had done too much work that day, and it would likely keep her awake
for the rest of the night.  She arose, popped some pain pills and stood in a hot shower, letting the spray work away the worst of the aches.  Then she curled up with the telephone and waiting until 3 a.m. to call Vidar.

Thus began their nightly ritual.  Four nights in a row, they talked in the middle of the night, saying not much of anything at all for nearly an hour.  The things they said made her want him all the more, and she could sense the urgent need in his voice as well, but he never told her not to call him.  He never scolded her for disturbing his sleep.  For all the talking they did, it was amazing that they didn’t actually communicate more.  She longed to tell him about the new peace she felt regarding her parents’ passing, but it was a bit too intimate, too intense for a telephone conversation.  She asked him how his business affairs were coming, but he brushed it aside and changed the subject.  And so they continued to talk and not say anything that needed saying.  She was so frustrated, that the first thing she wanted to do to him when she saw him next was bop him on the side of the head!  If it weren’t for Tracy and the Save the Lake campaign, she would have gone completely insane!

Finally Friday arrived.  Liz hoped Vidar would come a day early, but he had said nothing about it on the phone the night before.  She yearned to tell him about the campaign, as she and Tracy had gone to the town board and presented their case.  When they had first arrived, all of the members of the board had been in favor of the casino, but by the time the meeting adjourned, almost half had changed their minds.  They had seen only the financial benefit of the casino – local jobs, increased revenue.  They hadn’t thought about the expenses.  Having a major casino in their community meant they’d have to increase their fire department and police force.  They’d have to remodel their sewer system to handle the increased population, and the casino might cause more to move into the area.  They would eventually need a larger school, hospital, streetlights… not all growth was progress, and progress did not always mean growth.  The board decided to appoint new committees to investigate these issues. 

Tracy had rolled her eyes.  Committees!  Nothing was ever solved by committee.  But at least they had been heard.  And about half of the residents on the lake had signed the petition.  Some had already sold out to the investors, and some were summer residents only.  They might not even be aware of the issues yet, although Liz was sure that the investors
must have already approached them.  She still didn’t have the name of whoever was in charge of the damn casino, but when she did, she was sure going to bend his ear!

Friday morning passed interminably slow.  Liz made some coffee, but her stomach was too tied up to drink it.  She hadn’t earned much money at the consignment shop  yet, because the owner didn’t like to put out anything out of season.  Winter was over, and summer wasn’t quite there yet.  Only a few of Liz’s slacks and shirts were available, and of that, she got just enough money for some cans of tuna and packages of Ramen noodles.  She didn’t even splurge on sweetened creamer for her coffee, but coffee was definitely on the shoppin
g list.  She could make it weak to stretch it further, but she could not get through the day without it. 

Friday afternoon came and went.  No word from Vidar, not even a phone call to let her know he was on his way.  She craved him like a drug and cursed him for it.  She made up conversations in her head, the ones she planned to have w
ith him that night on the phone if he didn’t come; sometimes she played a seductress, and sometimes she railed at him like a shrew.  She didn’t want to be a shrew! 

She wandered through the cabin, recalling
her memories and treasuring each one.  She stroked the surface of the player piano.  No one knew how to actually play the piano, but it had come with several roles of music, and over the years, Vidar added to their collection.  Liz selected one now, a compilation of ragtime tunes, threaded the paper role on to the parts and turned it on.  The perforated paper somehow made the keys play by themselves, although the sound was a little tinny – more like vaudeville than a classical concert.  They had dozens of paper rolls of Christmas songs, and on Christmas Eve they would gather around the piano and sing the carols in typical Shelburne off-key fashion, for they had far more enthusiasm than talent. 

While the music played, she continued her sentimental journey.  There was the grand dining table with all sixteen chairs.  They almost never ate there. It was just too big for a small family and while they hosted endless soirees and dinner parties back in the city, they treasured their privacy at the cabin.  Most of their meals were taken either in the kitchen, or the picnic table in the woods, or
sometimes they just lap-ate in lawn chairs down at the beach.  The only time she remembered the dining table being used was that summer her parents had hired a tutor for her. 

She’d been thirteen and in
the eighth grade.  It was at the high point of her infatuation with Vidar and her parents began to follow Vidar’s suggestions to reign in their daughter a bit.  She had brought home a less than stellar report card and was told that she couldn’t attend the horse show for which she had been practicing for months. She dissolved into tears and ran up the grand staircase in the foyer of their town home to throw herself onto her bed, dissolving into a wet, unhappy lump.

Of course her mother had immediately raced after her, holding and comforting her, rocking her gently and reminding her how much they loved her.  She had immediately relented, relating to her daughter that she should be thankful they hadn’t done what Vidar had said he would do if his own daughter had come home with a report card like that.

Not sure she wanted to know, Elizabeth had raised her head from her mother’s shoulder and asked, “What?”

Liz had never seen her mother blush like that.  Lydia Shelburne was a wonderful, warm, loving woman, but she was very conservative.  “He wanted us to spank you.  Said you needed a good spanking for not being more diligent in your studies.”

Elizabeth’s eyes dilated at the thought; an unexpected electric tingle shot through her bottom – and down
there
– between her legs, causing her to suck in her breath.  Liz leaned towards nerdiness and had been a bookworm since she could hold one in her hands.  It wasn’t languages or history that had gotten her into trouble – she was interested in both of those subjects, and so she did well in them.  The problem was math and science, which she despised and had carefully avoided.

“But you know neither your father nor I could ever raise a hand to you.  But he’s right
about one thing – grades like that aren’t going to get you into college.  You need to pay more attention in class.  We’ll get you a tutor.  That’ll help.”

Liz had gone to sleep with tantalizing visions of the man who stirred such unusual feelings within her. 
And that summer she had spent an hour a day chained (not really) to the dining table while the boring high school nerd they hired tried to coach her in math and science.

She paused next before the life-size portrait of her parents.  Her mother’s sweet, gentle smile.  Her father’s handsome face.  They were so young in the portrait – much younger than she had ever known them to be.  Mom wore a beautiful lace gown her mother had made for her with imported Belgi
an lace.  The gown was here somewhere… in a box in their bedroom probably.  Mom used to tell Liz that one day the dress would be hers.  She told her she didn’t have to wear it, that it might be terribly out of date, but she was welcome to cut it apart and use it in the making of her own dress.

Liz had been horrified by the thought.  The dress was a one-of-a-kind treasure!  Made by her grandmother, worn by her mother… if Vidar ever proposed, she would wear that dress down the aisle! 

Tired from her late night telephone schedule, Liz curled up on the couch in the living room for a nap. 

Vidar couldn’t wait to get back to her.  The separation, although it had only been a matter of days, was physically painful.  He needed her!  He needed her in his life and he needed her now! 

He had lost a few investors for the casino project, but it wasn’t quite the disaster Rick made it out to be.  Vidar could have built the casino himself.  He just didn’t like to draw attention to his wealth, and by getting the town’s people to invest in it, they would be more likely to support it and reap the benefits of the new business in their community.  What bothered him most about their withdrawal was that they no longer seemed to think of the casino as a good thing. 

Were they nuts?

And to think it was all that Tracy Gates’ fault!  Liz’s childhood friend – he’d never liked that girl.  She was too impulsive, too reckless, and used to weedle Beth into most of her harebrained ideas.  He just hoped that Beth was not involved with her on this.  He hated to think about them being on opposite sides of this issue.  Surely she had to realize that the best thing for them would be to sell the cabin and move on?