The Coach House (20 page)

“We’re behind schedule.”

“But Richard, on Thanksgiving?”

“Marie, I can’t drive a hundred miles to Milwaukee, then drive home for just one meal and then turn around and drive back to work the next day. It’s just not practical. You know, it would be nice if you were just a little supportive of what I do once in awhile.”

“I am supportive of what you do.” She couldn’t see spending Thanksgiving apart and didn’t let it go, which she knew was what he wanted. “What if I came up there?”

“And do what?” His tone was unwavering.

“Spend the holiday with you, of course.”

“You’re going to drive a hundred miles, possibly in the snow, to have dinner. No, it’s too dangerous.”

“I could take the train.”

Richard’s chest puffed out. His glare was daunting. “Fine. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. End of discussion.” He walked away from her. “I hope you’re happy.”

“Richard, this didn’t have to turn into an argument.”

“You’re right about that,” he mumbled. His words hung in the air long after he left the room.

They went to Rosa’s for Thanksgiving…with the whole clan, not one of Marie’s favorite things to do on a holiday. Richard drove from Milwaukee to Chicago the night before and planned to drive back the following day. It would be their first weekend apart since they were married.

While he remained cool toward Marie, Richard was his usual congenial self at Rosa’s. He made it a point to talk to everyone there, including Carmela. Marie figured that was his immature way of punishing her.

It was a cold drive home. Marie tried to make small talk, but Richard wasn’t having any of it. Instead he turned on the radio…loud, muttering something indiscernible under his breath in the process.

“What did you say?” she asked, competing with the radio.

“Nothing.” He turned the volume up even louder.

Bill Jackson was a poor old dub,

Who joined the Darktown Poker Club

“Darktown Poker Club,” a country song with crude unsophisticated lyrics, wasn’t the type of music either of them would
ever
listen to under normal circumstances. She stared at his profile as he drove, but his attention remained straight ahead.

Now keep them boney hands on the table when you deal ’em please

And don’t be slipp’en any aces down there in between your knees.

The music’s monotonous beat was unbearable. Not about to let Richard know she was annoyed by it, she didn’t change the station. They crossed Randolph Street, the mood in the car growing heavier by the minute.

Now when you bet, put up them chips, ’came I don’t like it when you shy.

If you get busted
—
go get some, ’cause I won’t be here by & by.

Grand Avenue. Surely, he was testing her tolerance level. But she wasn’t about to give in. She cracked the window hoping some of the tension would get sucked out.

Of course it don’t do for me to name the guy.

So I’ll refrain from mentioning the party’s name

But if I catch him cheating just once again

I’m gonna take my fist and close that other eye.

Chicago Avenue. Richard’s unrelenting smirk revealed his sense of gratification. Marie’s face was stoic and red from trying to block the awful music from her head, her eyes focused blindly on the road ahead.

Keep your hands up there when you deal ’em please

And don’t be puttin’ those wildies slip in between your knees.

The silence in the car was stifling. By Division, she didn’t think she could listen to another minute of it…but somehow she managed.

I mean you ain’t gonna play this game now according to Mr. Hoyle,

You’re going to play this game according to me.

If you break the seal on them new set of Bicycles, we’ll go on from here

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.

The last “yeah” was sung just as Richard pulled the car into their garage. He got out and headed toward the house without waiting for her.

The atmosphere at breakfast the next morning wasn’t much better. “So what are you doing this weekend?” he asked her as he stood over the counter drinking his coffee and eating an English muffin. Normally they ate breakfast together.

“Working,” she said flatly.

“Really. Working on a weekend?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Biggest shopping days of the year,” she said without looking up from her cup of tea.

“Well, I guess everything worked out for the best then,” he said through a smirk. He headed toward the side door. “I see helping you with that last promotion backfired on me.” He didn’t turn around. “See ya Sunday night…late.”

She didn’t respond.
This is more than just a lover’s quarrel, and what did he mean by “his help with my promotion?”
She took a slug of Pepto-Bismol and hoped it would work its magic quickly.

It wasn’t hard to keep marital issues off her mind while she worked the weekend following Thanksgiving. The store had predicted at least 250,000 guests a day, but judging by the sales, store management suspected it was much higher. World War II had been over for more than two years, and people were returning to their normal shopping habits. It had been a good year for retail.

When Marie returned home from work on Sunday, Richard was there waiting for her, sitting in the living room, reading the paper. “I thought you’d be late tonight,” she commented.

“We finished earlier than expected. How was your day?” His mood hadn’t changed much since they had last talked.

“Busy.”

“Want to go out tonight for dinner?”

“I’m really tired. I’d rather eat in.”

“Chinese?”

“That’s fine,” she answered as she headed for the stairs. “I’m going to take a bath first.”

By the time she came back downstairs, Richard was setting the table and opening cartons of Chinese food. Except for the occasional, “Would you pass the so and so,” they ate in silence.

Richard poured two glasses of wine and brought them into the living room. He set them on the coffee table near each other and then sat down. Marie entered the room, looked at the proximity of the glasses and shuttered. She wasn’t in the mood to sit that close to him.

“Can we talk?” His voice was low, his tone somber.

She sat down a few feet from him.

“We can’t go on like this.” He looked at her until she made full eye contact with him. “Agreed?”

Marie nodded. She was afraid of where he might be going with this and held her breath as he continued.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days.” She watched him as he spoke, trying to decode his facial expression. “And I’ve decided that changes need to be made.” He stared past her for a moment, somewhere into space and then looked back at her. “I need to change,” he said.

Marie raised her eyebrows.
I didn’t see that coming.

“Look, I got caught up in some, shall we say, less than honorable ways to make big money for us. I am who I am, and I’m not perfect. But I was wrong in doing that. Dead wrong.” He shook his head. “But no more.”

Marie studied his face. “Richard, I don’t expect you to be perfect, and I want to believe you…”

“Do I detect a ‘but’ at the end of that statement?”

She took a sip of wine before looking at him. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Richard sat forward and looked deep into her eyes. “And I don’t blame you. I’ve been less than candid about what I’ve been doing. I’ve befriended people that I probably shouldn’t have, and quite frankly, I may have gotten in over my head.” He looked down for a moment. “But, it’s all in the past. I want to go back to the life I had,
we
had, before we got married.” He moved closer to her. “I love you, Marie. And you are more important to me than anything else in my life.” He kissed her hand, his lips barely making contact with her skin. “Are you with me?”

“We can’t have love without honesty.”

“You have it now. No more hiding. I’m a changed man. I love you too much not to change.”

“Richard, I love you, too. I never stopped loving you.” She fought to hold back the tears. “But you know I can’t put up with your shenanigans, the meetings, and secret phone calls, callers who hang up whenever I answer the phone. I don’t know what they’re all about, and I don’t
want
to know what they’re about. The people you associate with scare me.”

“They will go away. I promise.” He took her other hand into his. “I’ve been such a fool to treat you like this. You deserve better. I’m asking you to believe in me. I
can’t
lose you.” He choked on his last few words.

Marie looked into his eyes for some morsel of deceit that might be lurking there. She withdrew her hands from his and then bowed her head and closed her eyes. She thought of her own secrets she was keeping from him. She looked back up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t know, Richard. I just don’t know,” she said shaking her head. “There have been so many lies.”

“I know, baby. I know. And I am
so
sorry that was the path I chose. If I could go back and do it over again, I would. Believe me. But I can only go forward and hope you’re with me…” His words trailed off.

“Why now? Why do you want to change now?”

He got up and walked to the window. “I had a lot of time to think about things over the weekend. I really thought I was doing a good job juggling everything that was important to me. And then I realized that
you
are the most important thing to me, and I was treating you like shit.”

The phone rang. They looked at each other. Prior to this, Richard would have jumped up to get it. Instead, he stood there staring at her.

Marie got up. “I’ll get it.”

Richard stayed in the living room.

“He can’t come to the phone right now. May I give him a message?” Ten seconds of silence. “I’ll do that. You’re welcome.”

She entered the living room with a glib face. “That was Milwaukee Phil. He wants you to call him tonight.”

“Look, it’s going to take a little time to break these ties. I may have to call him back.” He was either lying or too naïve to understand you don’t break off ties with the Milwaukee Phils of the world and remain unscathed. Even Marie knew that.

Richard spent a half hour in his office with the door closed before joining Marie in bed that night. She allowed him to hold her in the crevice of his arm. She wondered if this was what love was all about. The give and the take. The highs and the lows. For better or for worse.

He held her for a long time that night.

The next morning, Richard brought up Christmas. “I was thinking of visiting my family for Christmas. What do you think?”

“Sure.” She was surprised and pleased at his suggestion. She knew how much fortitude it took Richard to go home for visits.

“Can you take some time off earlier in the month so we can get away for a few days?”

“I have some vacation time coming. Where were you thinking?”

“Someplace warm, like the Virgin Islands.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call the travel agent and see what she can come up with.”

“Richard.”

“Hmm?”

“Your birthday is Tuesday. Is there anything special you want to do?”

He looked into her eyes, his gaze steady on hers. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t care.” He walked over to her, bent down, and gave her a kiss—a gentle wispy kiss, like the ones he gave her when they first dated. “I love you, Marie.”

“I love you, too.”

That night Marie came home after work to a drawn bath, a single rose on the vanity, and a new cushy robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Trying to listen more to her heart than reason with her brain, she hoped this was the beginning of a changed husband.

* * *

They vacationed for five days at the Buccaneer in St. Croix. Formerly a sugar plantation, it had recently been converted into a posh resort. Situated on more than three hundred acres, it offered golf, tennis, exquisite dining, and long white sand beaches—a perfect getaway for two people to rebuild a crumbling relationship.

Richard devoted every minute in St. Croix to her, being sensitive to her needs, and surprising her with something every day. Sometimes it was something as simple as a flower for her hair. Other times it was an extravagant bauble from the gift shop.

They talked on the plane ride home, just like they had during the blissful days of their courtship and initial months of marriage, like none of the bad things had ever happened. It brought back wonderful memories, ones Marie had once hoped would continue to form throughout a long life together.

What plagued Marie was that she wasn’t convinced Richard would, or even could, get out of his involvement with the Chicago underworld, and she was afraid for him. Her fears were validated when Richard came home the following week with a cut above his right eye.