Half Past Mourning (13 page)

Peter took the pink-stained wad from her and tossed it into the trash at the end of the walkway. “Hey, a point for our side!” he called as the paper ball sailed into the bucket. Nina cheered, and they turned to the playground. The heat was mounting with the afternoon sun beaming down. They walked to a shady corner, where the trees blocked some of the heat. “If your teacher friend was going to be your bridesmaid, then she must have known Danny pretty well, too.” Peter watched the young woman across the schoolyard juggle books to free a hand so she could open the door. “Does she have any thoughts about what happened to him?”

Nina hesitated. “I don’t think so. Like everyone else, she adored Danny and couldn’t believe he’d just take off after the wedding. Now, though, she’s looking at it in a little different light. At first she insisted something had happened to him—abduction or an accident, something he couldn’t help—but it’s been so long now, I think she believes like everyone else that he ran out.”

“And you, Nina, what do you think? Has anything we’ve learned made a difference in the way you feel?”

The sigh, the far-off stare, the finger that without conscious effort touched a wide gold band on her left hand, all of that painted the picture of unresolved pain. Nina’s eyes met his. “I’m afraid everyone was right. I can’t see it any other way. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. He must have had another way out of town; he had to have planned it that way. From what everyone says, it adds up to another woman. But I still don’t know...” She stopped, perplexity forming a crease between her eyes.

Peter took her left hand in his and touched the gold ring. “So where does that leave you, Nina? Married or not married? You wear his ring but not his name. You made vows that couldn’t be kept. The wedding ceremony was performed but the marriage didn’t exist. So are you married or not, sweetheart? Miss Kirkland or Mrs. Wilson?”

Nina turned away. “I don’t know, Peter. I just don’t know.” She looked back at him, bleak sadness in her eyes. “What does it matter anyway? Married, not married, I’m in limbo.”

Peter touched the pink stain above her lip, traced the full upper curve with his thumb. “It matters, Nina. What you believe, how you see it, that matters a lot.”

A bewildered stare widened her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to kiss you, Nina. I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you, and tell you how your eyes are the color of sherry and when you laugh the room lights up. But I don’t kiss another man’s wife. So it matters, it matters a hell of a lot, whether you are Nina Kirkland or Mrs. Danny Wilson. Do you know which one you are, Nina? Can you say?”

Nina stared down at the ring on her hand. She looked bewildered, panic flooding her eyes. Peter could feel the confusion that flowed through her. Finally she shook her head. “I’m married, Peter. Even if I had evidence that Danny did leave with another woman. Or that he married me for some reason I can’t begin to understand. No, until Danny is found and can say that he does or doesn’t want to be married to me, I have to believe I am married. The vows and promises I made hold me to him whether or not they hold him to me. Unless he says otherwise.”

Peter took two steps back. “Among the things I love about you, Nina, is the steadfast way you stick to your word. Inconvenient as hell for me, my dear, but I’ll respect your feelings. I won’t go over the line.” He pushed her unruly curls back from her face. “But Danny Wilson better have some good explanation for the nightmare he’s left for you. And if for some reason he’s foolish enough to set you free, I’ll be at the door before his coattail clears the fence.”

“Peter, I...” Whatever Nina would have said was lost as a quartet of small boys surrounded her, demanding she start the relay games, hand out potatoes and spoons for the potato race, and assign pairs for the horseshoe tournament.

“I’m back on duty, Peter.” She put her arms around the boys vying for her attention. “Just a second, fellows. I’ll be right there.” She turned back to Peter. “Are we still on for a trip to Barlow tomorrow?”

“If you’re sure you want to go, I’ll pick you up around 11:30. You’re certain you want to do this?”

Nina managed half a smile, but wariness tightened the corners of her eyes and an anxious tremor in her lips betrayed her. “I don’t want to go, but I think I’d better. If there’s any information, a single scrap of a clue, I need to be there to see it. I can’t hide in the closet and pretend this whole thing is just a fantasy, a bad dream that will go away, or let somebody else do it for me. I have to face it. So I’ll be ready in the morning. See you then.”

Peter watched her walk away with the herd of youngsters clustering around her.
Danny was playing around with other women when he had her? He must have been out of his mind.

****

Peter? Peter wanted to... Oh, no, that wouldn’t do. Still Nina couldn’t get that moment on the playground out of her mind. She was a married woman, he an attractive and eligible man. With an interest in her, an interest she had to cut off. All through Saturday morning Nina dithered about the wisdom of making the trip to Barlow with Peter. Would he stick by the limits, respect her resolve to honor her marriage vows? Disillusioned by the recent revelations she’d had about Danny’s character, the flaws she’d discovered in a man she’d known almost her whole life, Nina hesitated to put her trust in any man, much less one she’d met only weeks earlier. Still, her need to know where Danny was and why he’d left outweighed her concern about Peter’s intentions. At last Nina dressed in the least becoming outfit she owned, a beige skirt and muted print blouse with serviceable brown flats, and prepared to face whatever the day might hold. In this outfit, she was certain she’d be too drab to stir Peter’s interest further. As she waited for him, Nina wondered what she could say, how she could keep an impersonal wall between them on the long drive.

He came in his old blue Mercury to pick her up. The bigger, more sedate sedan was far less cozy than the Thunderbird and held no painful memories. Nor did Peter’s stories of his students and their attempts to bluff their way through his course lead to more personal topics. Relieved when he made no reference to the fleeting, intimate exchange of the day before, Nina let the wind pouring through the open car window tousle her hair. The bright sun flooded the day and only hinted at the heat coming in the weeks ahead.

“I think this is the road,” Peter said, turning down a wandering country lane. “It’s been several months since I was here, but this looks right. Watch for a sign that says something about homemade preserves or peach jam. Something like that.”

Only a minute or two later she saw a hand-painted board advertising peach butter hanging from a fence rail. “Is that it?” She pointed to the plank swaying to the rhythm of the breeze.

“Got it.”

The narrow drive was bordered by masses of goldenrod and late blooming winecups in a sea of green. The graveled surface twisted through rolling hills and coasted past a brilliant blue pond that could have been torn from the Texas sky.

“The house should be just around the trees over there.” Another turn and the road came to an end in front of a white house with spice-brown shutters and trim. Banks of lantana spread mounds of yellow and orange flowers around the covered porch.

“It’s like a doll house,” Nina said softly. “Or a picture on a postcard.”

“This is the place.”

As Peter opened the car door, a rotund, bustling figure came from the side of the house and hurried to open the white picket gate. “Peter Shayne? I thought that was you. And this is the girl whose young man went missing?” Betty Andrews, pink and white like an old-fashioned china doll, hurried to greet them. Peter made quick introductions as their hostess shooed them along the walk and into the house. “I hope I can help, my dear. Such a terrible thing, all this time and not knowing. I miss my Ed as much as any woman can miss a man, but I declare, if I didn’t at least know what happened to him, I don’t think I could keep going. You are a brave little thing, yes, you are. Trying to make some sense of things without a smidgen of help for all these months.”

The house was as much like a doll’s abode inside as out. Nina caught sight of crocheted doilies, stiff with starch, on every tabletop. The wood floor glowed with a sheen that comes only from years of polishing. She glimpsed fluffy flowered curtains and shining brass accents as she and Peter were ushered into the kitchen.

“I always wind up with my guests in here,” Betty Andrews told them. “It’s just easier to pass cookies and pour tea when everyone is sitting around the table, isn’t it?” The lady of the house followed her words with actions, placing tall, frosted glasses and plates mounded with homemade cookies in front of them.

“Now what can I tell you, Peter, that will help clear up this mess?” She put a plump hand over Nina’s and patted. “You just ask anything you want, Nina, and don’t think you’ll be bringing up a sad subject for me. It all has to do with Ed’s passing, but that’s nothing to do with you. Where do we start?”

Mrs. Andrews had compassionate eyes and a nature that seemed born to help. Nina waited for Peter to begin, but when he didn’t, she took the lead. “How did your husband come to buy the car, Mrs. Andrews?”

“Oh, land sakes, call me Betty, hon.” A chuckle put a wreath of laugh lines along the older woman’s cheeks. “I look back, and it all seems silly now. That was just about the worst fuss we ever got into in all the thirty years we were married.” She leaned both elbows on the table, her smile fading as she began. “Ed worked out of the country, long chunks of time, and mostly he was in Saudi Arabia. He made money, oh, lots of it, and he was careful, thrifty. It was his nature to put aside something for a rainy day. We had the twin girls, Daisy and Pam, and their schooling to pay for. Ed saved for them to make sure they got the benefits we didn’t have when we were kids. But he liked gadgets and machines—toys, I called them—and cars. He just loved tinkering with cars. When that Thunderbird car first came out, he said at least fifty times how he’d like to have one. I thought it was just talk, like a man goes on about things he won’t ever do.” Betty’s lips tightened. “Shows you don’t always know a man’s mind, even when you’ve lived with him more than half your life.”

From her recent experience, Nina could echo those words. “And the surprises aren’t something you ever expect, are they?”

“Isn’t that just God’s own truth,” Betty agreed. “When Ed came home that spring, two years back, he announced he was getting too old to keep running around the world. He’d decided he’d do just one more job, take about nine months to a year, and then put himself out to pasture. We’d do some of the things we’d kept putting off till ‘someday,’ and we’d start right then with a good family trip together. It was early summer, and our girls were just out of school. Daisy and Pam wanted to look at colleges, and Ed said we’d do things up right and take a month just traveling, stop when we wanted to, and check out those schools for the girls.”

“But the car? He bought the T-Bird?” Sweet as Betty Andrews was, Nina couldn’t see how her rambling reminiscences helped.

A quick smile of understanding lit Mrs. Andrews’ face. “I’m getting there, honey. Just bear with me.” She shifted in her chair, dusted cookie crumbs from the table, and went on. “Yes, we were planning to leave on Sunday, right after church. The girls were packed and spending the evening with friends, and Ed and I were in the living room, me reading and him opening his mail from the office. He opened one of those letters, jumped up, and tore off to make a phone call. He was grinning like a cat in the cream when he came back. I knew he was up to no good. Finally he spilled it. He told me we’d hold off leaving till Tuesday because he had some ‘business’ and had to go back to Dallas. He was meeting up with somebody there, somebody bringing one of those Thunderbirds for Ed to try out. Not a new one, he says, but almost new. Young feller was getting married and his bride didn’t like the car. He’d be selling it reasonable, and Ed was thinking to buy it.”

“Your husband bought the car in Dallas?” Could this be the thread of the story she’d been hunting? Nina wondered.

Betty held up her hands to ward off questions. “Ed’s company always got rooms for him at one of those big hotels when he was in the country. He’d been staying there, reporting to the bosses, when he first started dickering for that fool car. And that’s where he was supposed to meet up with the feller and see about buying the thing.” Betty Andrews gave an apologetic glance across the table. “I was so plain mad, I told Ed if he planned to go hotfootin’ it back to the big city to buy himself an expensive play toy, he could just take me and the girls along. We’d stay at the hotel, too. Get a little pampering, maybe do a little shopping ourselves. At Neiman-Marcus. Ed grumbled, but he agreed it was only fair. So the girls and I never actually met the feller with the car. I never knew the ins and outs of the deal they made. Didn’t care. All I saw was that Ed was about to spend a whacking big chunk of money, then go off halfway ’round the world and leave me a car I couldn’t drive. We had some words at that hotel, I’ll tell you, when he insisted we had to turn around and bring the darn thing back here before we could really start our trip. Still weren’t on good terms when we finally left on Wednesday morning.”

“But your husband just met the man in Dallas, drove the car, and bought it right then?”

“He did.” The color in Betty Andrews’ face deepened. “And I wasn’t one bit gracious about it. I was still pretty worked up.”

Nina sat forward on her chair. “But did you see him? The man who owned the car? You did see him?”

Smoothing a wrinkle in her pink-striped dress, Mrs. Andrews cast her eyes down. “Well, I did and I didn’t, Nina. I saw him there in the lobby of the hotel, talking to Ed. Not a good look but just sorta noticed in passing. His hair was more light than dark. I’m sure of that. And he was dressed decent, not a suit or anything, but a good shirt and pants. But I only saw his back and a little of the side of his head. And not up close, anyway.”