Songs in Ordinary Time (47 page)

“Oh no!” She tittered at the thought. “I leave all that up to Claire. She’s the one with the head for business, the practical one.” She looked around before whispering, “I’m the flighty one, Mr. Duvall. The dreamer!”

“Well, maybe it’s time to change, Miss Mayo. Maybe it’s time to take charge of your life. I mean I find it quite appalling that a lovely woman like SONGS IN ORDINARY TIME / 227

yourself has to live in fear of being railroaded into a nursing home. I mean that, Miss Mayo.”

Her hairy chin quivered. “Well, thank you, Mr. Duvall. I appreciate your concern.”

“I’m very fond of you, Miss Mayo, and I’d like to help you—if you’d let me.”

She had been staring up at him. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like you to help me.

I really would.”

“Well, it’s a business proposition, an investment, an opportunity to be independent, Miss Mayo, and to make your own decisions about your own life.”

M
arie was hanging towels on the line when Omar came down the driveway. Her hair was a mess and she had clothespins in her mouth and the front of her blouse was wet from the two loads of bundled wash she’d just carried out here. As she turned back to the line, the sharp grass scratched her ankles. She hadn’t shaved her legs or underarms in days. The wash was piled on a paper bag because the laundry basket was coated with green, slime from sitting outside all week, and there the lawn mower lay, rusting in the tall weedy grass. This wasn’t the way she wanted things to be. She wanted to seem strong and in control when he returned, or
if
he returned; that one word, ballast to every hopeful surge:
if
. If. And here he was. She was amazed; amazed, and now in her relief so confused she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think at all, could just continue this task, this vital, centering chore.

“Marie!” He stood grinning at her. “You look wonderful,” he said. “A sight for sore, sore eyes.”

She grabbed another towel, squeezing it so hard her fingers hurt.

“Oh. Oh here,” he said, patting one jacket pocket, then another. “I got this for you.” He pulled out a small framed photograph. “It’s me shaking hands with Roy Gold.” He offered it uneasily. “I thought you’d like it.”

Her hands trembled as she pinned together the corners of two towels.

He cleared his throat, then studied the picture with a frown, as if noticing certain details for the first time. “Oh yes. This was at the ceremony.” He held it even closer. “In fact, that’s your certificate of franchise he’s handing me.”

She bent down for another towel, but he snatched it from the pile and hung it on the line.

“I’ve missed you terribly,” he said, shaking out another towel.

“You did?” she asked, her chest suddenly daggered by all the pain she had suppressed or denied, and here it was, here he was, tearing her apart.

No. No. No matter what he said or did, no matter how he explained it, she could not live this way again, leashed to a man’s promises, knowing his every word so much by heart as she fell asleep analyzing a sentence that she would wake up hours later stuck on the exact same word, wondering, had he said this while meaning that, had he forgotten, had he just been too 228 / MARY MCGARRY MORRIS

busy, had she misunderstood, oh surely she had misunderstood because he would not lie, because there were times when he seemed to care for her so, because she had tried so hard in so many ways, because she wanted, wanted, wanted, needed to be loved, because she needed…because she…because, because.

“Oh, you have no idea!” he sighed. “Sometimes in the lectures it got so bad I could barely concentrate.” He glanced back at her. “I just kept thinking about you and the children and this yard and the house, and I’d be wondering how Benjy’s swimming was going and was Alice still coming home so exhausted every night and did Norm still hate my guts, well, not hate”—he chuckled—“maybe resent, which I don’t think will last too too long once he sees my new car, which you are going to love, Marie! It drives like a dream. It just hums along. I can’t wait to see you in it. Truly, it befits you.

Oh Marie, I just want the best, the very best for you and the children.”

Arms folded, she watched him hang the last few towels and washcloths.

Every time he bent over, his jacket and shirt hiked up his back. He’d obviously gained weight, while she’d eaten so little this last week that now even the smell of food sickened her. She started toward the house.

“You forgot your picture,” he said, following her to the door.

“No,” she said when he reached for the knob.

“Can’t I come in?” His eyes widened. “I need to see you. I…I need to talk to you.”

“We’ll have to talk out here,” she said.

“What’s wrong, Marie?”

“I want my money back.” Saying it made her knees sag.

“Why?” He looked stunned. “Why?” he asked again.

“I trusted you in a way I’ve never trusted anyone in my whole life, and now I feel like such a fool!”

“Marie!” He put his hands on her shoulders. “What in God’s name is going on here?” His head shot up and he looked past her. “Has someone been around here besmirching my good name? He has, hasn’t he? And you believed it? How could you? How could you? I’m very disappointed!”

No one had been around. She had no idea what he was talking about, and yet, oddly enough, she found herself on the defensive. She explained how his two-week absence had made her lose trust in him, and now he grew even more upset, wringing his hands and pacing back and forth on the driveway.

“What could I do? I had no choice. It was business—every waking moment was nothing but seminars and charts and workshops. I don’t know what to say, Marie. I mean you, of all people. You know what this opportunity means to me. To us!” He threw up his hands, and with his back to her, he groaned, “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say.” He looked around. “I thought you had such faith in me. I guess that was my mistake. I just assumed you believed me. I’ve been alone so long I’m just not used to verifying every move. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were so unhappy and so afraid. I feel like such an ass.”

SONGS IN ORDINARY TIME / 229

“I didn’t know where you were!”

“But I told you where I was!” He came back and stood by the steps. His eyes were bloodshot and weary.

“Not really. You never really said exactly where, and then you didn’t call again and I got very nervous.” Her voice broke.

“Well, I’m here now.” He touched her arm. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore.”

She closed her eyes. She had accused him so many times in her thoughts that now in his presence there seemed nothing more to say.

“Look what I have.” He was unrolling a piece of parchment. “Your certificate of franchise. See,” he said, pointing as he presented it to her. “That’s Roy Gold’s signature.”

She looked up, her heart pounding. “But it only says one franchise. I gave you money for two. That’s what you said.” He grabbed it back and his look of shock frightened her.

“Damn,” he said, examining the document. “It’s a good thing you caught that, it got right by me. It’s just one of those clerical errors a phone call’ll clear up in two seconds flat.” He sighed. “You don’t believe that, either, do you?”

“I want to believe you,” she said.

He leaned so close that she thought he was going to kiss her right out here in full view of Jessie Klubock’s kitchen window.

“Can I come in, then?” he asked.

So far Marie had managed to ignore Norm’s sullenness as he hunched over his plate. Actually it was Benjy who was putting a strain on the conversation right now. She wasn’t even sure what Omar had just said, just some lighthearted remark, but Benjy was doubled over, his high-pitched laughter nervous and throbbing with eagerness.

“Somebody better do something, I think he’s choking,” Norm mumbled, not even looking up.

Benjy’s laughter ceased so abruptly that his mouth still twitched. He kept blinking, and his hands shook as he cut his hamburg patty into tiny pieces.

In the fork-clinking silence her eyes met Norm’s.

Omar slapped the table with both hands. “Well, what do you say, boys?

Who wants to drive my brand-new Cadillac?”

Norm’s head shot up. “New?”

Omar chuckled. “Well, new for me’s new enough.”

“Go ahead, Norm,” she urged. Omar was trying so hard. It was true, he wasn’t used to the complexities of family life. “Just go for a quick spin, why don’t you?”

“I can’t.” Norm sucked loudly on his cornless cob. “I’m going somewhere.”

“I wish I could drive,” Benjy said, looking between her and Omar with that forced smile.

“Yah, and that’ll be another disaster just like swimming,” Norm said, 230 / MARY MCGARRY MORRIS

with a smirk for her benefit. After Benjy’s fall into the pool, she hadn’t made him go back. She knew she should have. She’d always made Alice and Norm face their fears, but with Omar gone she’d been too frightened herself, too drained.

“There’s a time to reap and a time to sow,” Omar was saying, “and this just may not be Benjy’s time to swim.” He smiled at Benjy. “But it’ll come, mark my words. When the time’s right, he’ll be ready.”

She looked at Benjy, wishing it was so, but he was too much his father’s son.

Outside, Klubocks’ dog had been barking. Now the barking intensified with a sudden knock on the back door.

“I never even heard them!” Norm said, jumping up.

Omar leaned back and opened the door. Weeb Miller and Tommy Mullins glanced in nervously at Norm, who started toward them.

“Well, hello, young men, come in! Come in. My name,” he said, extending his hand, “is Omar Duvall.”

“Nice to meet you,” Weeb said, blushing as they shook hands. He introduced himself as Lawrence, a name Marie hadn’t heard him use in years.

The other boy, who was as tall as Omar, was a jiggle of soft flesh. Though she hadn’t seen him in a long time, Marie recognized him by the purple birthmark on his upper lip.

“This is Tommy Mullins,” Weeb said, introducing his friend, who nodded and rubbed his arm as he shuffled forward to shake Omar’s hand. His parents had sent him away to prep school, but she could see it obviously hadn’t had any maturing effect on Tommy, who stammered halting replies to Omar’s pleasant questions. He kept glancing miserably at Norm.

“We better get going,” Norm said. He flipped a cookie and Weeb caught it.

“You look like an athlete, young man,” Omar said.

Weeb shrugged and shook his head in flattered denial. “Norm’s the jock.

I just kinda goof around.”

“Well, be that as it may, you’ve got one of those frames that’s all muscle and tendon,” Omar said.

Mouth agape, Norm rolled his eyes. “We better get going,” he said again.

But Omar was asking Weeb how he’d been spending his summer.

“Sleeping,” Weeb said, laughing, then, with a glance at Marie, he added,

“I got ten lawns I cut.”

“That’s why you’re in such good shape,” Omar said, and now he asked Tommy.

“I work for my father,” Tommy said. “He has the bakery on Beecham Street.”

“Yah, he’s the head muffin man. Can’t you tell?” Weeb laughed with a jab at Tommy’s belly.

“Hey, somebody’s gotta do quality control,” Tommy sniffed, and they all laughed, all but Norm. “Muffins just happen to be my specialty.”

“And specialization, as we all know, is the future, now, isn’t it?” Omar SONGS IN ORDINARY TIME / 231

said. “I myself am involved in cleaning products, the marketing of soap and other various cleansers and detergents, both commercial and domestic.”

“That must be interesting,” Weeb said, shuffling his feet. He and Tommy Mullins looked at Norm, who waited at the door.

“You know, it is,” Omar mused. “It’s not the product. It’s the people you meet. Let me tell you, young men, you ever get a few dollars together and want to be your own boss, you just give me a call, now. I mean that. Seriously. Or your mothers and fathers. Maybe you could even give them these,”

he said, taking pamphlets from his breast pocket and handing them to the boys. “Tell me, Lawrence, what line of work’s your dad in?”

“He’s a federal VD inspector.” Weeb laughed.

The boys exchanged glances.

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” Omar said. He was staring at Norm. “I wouldn’t imagine you’d find too many of them around,” he said to Norm.

Marie felt bad. Omar obviously thought the boys were putting one over on him.

“I don’t know,” Norm said, glancing past Omar, who continued to stare at him. “C’mon, we gotta go now,” he said to Weeb and Tommy, who hurried after him.

The look of dread on Benjy’s face startled her, and she realized he was afraid of losing Omar, afraid Norm would drive him away. “Steve Miller really is a VD inspector,” she told Omar, and Benjy winced.

“Is he now,” Omar mused as he watched them through the window.

“He’s always kept it real low key, but the boys are right at that age. I think they have a lot of fun with it.”

“Umm.” He nodded, turning. “I’ll bet they do.” He mussed Benjy’s hair.

“I’ll just bet they do, now.”

Later, when Benjy had gone to bed, she and Omar sat on the couch watching television. With Omar’s arms around her and her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes, grateful for this rare time alone before Norm brought Alice home from work.

“You’re a wonderful woman,” Omar sighed.

As she leaned closer, her hand pressed down on a metal ring. Thinking something was caught in the cushions she gave it a tug. She had pulled a black lace garter belt from his pocket.

“Oh Lord,” he groaned. “Now you’ve seen it.”

“What is it?” There was a store tag attached.

“So now I have to give it to you. Here,” he said, also removing a black bra from the same pocket. “I bought them, but then I was too embarrassed to give them to you. So here,” he said, holding them out with his eyes closed.

“Oh. Oh no. Oh dear,” she giggled, dangling the bra in front of her.

“Now don’t make me feel any more foolish than I already do,” he pleaded, his head turned.

“It’s so big!” She burst out laughing. “It’s huge!”

“Well, pardon my inadequate powers of estimation,” he said, turning 232 / MARY MCGARRY MORRIS