The Coach House (34 page)

“If you would please continue telling him that, I would greatly appreciate it.”

* * *

“Today’s the day, Karen. Today, I get the keys to my new home. God, I can’t wait to get settled in. Just having a kitchen again will be so nice. You’ve got to come see it. It’s so perfect.”

“Need any help moving in?”

Marie laughed. “Well, let’s see. I can probably fit everything I own into two shopping bags. Thanks, but I think I can manage.”

“Well, we’ll have to celebrate when you get settled. You’ll let me know if you need anything, right? Like the first time you go grocery shopping and you need everything. How are you going to manage that without a car?”

Marie hadn’t thought that far ahead and was pleasantly surprised that Karen had. “I might just take you up on that. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Looks like I’m taking you shopping. Pick you up at noon?”

“You are wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Marie walked to the Edwards’s home, her new home. She was greeted by Julia, Wayne Jr., and Frannie. Julia handed her two keys. “This one is for the outside door, and this one is for the kitchen door. And if you ever get locked out, we have duplicates here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Edwards.” She exited the main house through the back door. “I know I’m going to be very happy here.”

“Please call me Julia. And we’re happy to have you as a tenant, Marie. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, you hear?”

“I won’t. Thanks.” Marie walked the short distance to her newfound retreat and inhaled the delightful aroma of the flowers. She climbed the stairs, opened the kitchen door, and stood there for a long minute. “A blank canvas, that’s what this is,” she said, stepping in. “In more ways than one.” She locked the door. The sound of the dead bolt clicking in its chamber gave her the sense of security she so desperately needed.

The kitchen sparkled with its fresh coat of paint and new linoleum floor. Crisp white curtains hung on the window overlooking the backyard. The furniture left behind by the previous tenant was contemporary and tasteful. A plate of cookies was on the dining room table with a note that read, “Welcome to your new home. Julia.”

Marie sat in one of the white wicker chairs on the sun porch while she munched on a cookie. The porch furniture, upholstered in a green flowered toile fabric, had a refreshing look and feel about it, like a tropical resort. Plantation-style windows framed the three walls that formed the long narrow enclosure, allowing ample light to come in during the day and cool gentle breezes in the evening.

The spare bedroom was bare except for a twin bed and small desk. The master bedroom was furnished with a double bed, dresser, two nightstands, and a sitting area. Marie floated through the apartment several times, taking in everything before she sat down at the dining room table to make a shopping list. It was hard to curb her excitement and keep the list to just the essentials, but she did.

The next day Karen picked up Marie as promised. “Hi there.” Marie got into her car. “How was the first night in your new place?”

“It was wonderful, but I need so many things. How are you for time today? Can you take me to a department store before we go grocery shopping?”

“I’m all yours. Someone else is watching over the store for me. There’s a Montgomery Wards in Leavenworth. Want to go there first?” They spent the rest of the day shopping.

“Can you come to dinner tomorrow night?” she asked Karen. “I want you to see my place when I get everything I bought today put away.”

“Would love to. Can I bring some wine?”

“Why of course. That would be lovely.”

“What time do you want me?”

“How does six o’clock sound?”

“Perfect. I’ll be there…with the wine.”

It took Marie the entire evening to put everything away, but when she did, she was proud of the finished product. The space suited her and looked like she had been living there a long time. While not the expensively furnished house she had shared with Richard, Marie found this space much more gratifying.

Thinking a glass of wine would be appropriate, Marie threw on a sweater and headed toward the nearest liquor store. As she turned the corner two blocks away, a long black Cadillac caught her eye. They were common in Chicago, but not in small town Atchison. Visions of Richard and his cohorts flashed through her mind. She ducked behind a wide oak tree while the car drove slowly down the street and then around the corner toward her apartment.

“Is everything alright?”

The man’s voice startled her. “Yes. Of course.”

“Then do you mind my asking why you’re hiding behind my tree?”

She managed a nervous smile. “Uh…well, I just thought I saw someone I knew…and, well…uh…I didn’t want him to see me.” The man glared at her. She backed up toward the sidewalk a few steps. “I’m sorry. I’ll just be going now.”

She had never felt so stupid, and now she had to make a quick decision as to which way to go. She glanced back at the stupefied man and smiled. “Have a nice evening.”

Marie continued her walk to the liquor store, wanting that tall glass of Merlot more now than before. Her eyes darted to the street every few seconds. By the time she reached home, she was experiencing the same feeling in her stomach she felt whenever she had caught Richard in a lie, like something had crawled inside there and died. She went to bed knowing she couldn’t go on feeling like that.

* * *

The following night, Karen came to Marie’s apartment for dinner. Marie had made lasagna enough times with Richard that she didn’t need a recipe. Salad and bread completed the menu.

After dinner, Marie and Karen relaxed, drank wine, and talked. Karen could talk nonstop for long periods of time if given the opportunity, but she was also a good listener. Marie told her about her childhood.

“So what was your mom like?”

Marie thought about the short time she had had with her mom. “She was great. Very supportive. Always there for me.”

“Everyone should be so lucky to have a loving mother.”

Marie thought about Karen’s words. “You know, I’m sure she loved me, even though she never told me that directly. My mother was all business.”

That evening Marie discovered that Karen did know nearly everyone in town, especially the women.

“I know Chicago is huge, but I wonder if you might know anyone from Lulu’s family. Her last name is Botkin. Actually Lulu isn’t her real name. She changed it when her family moved here from Russia so she’d blend in better.”

Botkin!?
Ivan Botkin was her and Richard’s next-door neighbor, the creepy Russian. Marie cleared her throat. “Uh…no, I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, like I said, it’s a big city.”

“That it is. So is she still close to her family?”

“Some of them.”

Marie gave her a twisted smile. “That’s nice. So what’s
The Toast of the Town
everyone is talking about? I don’t have a television yet.”

“Well, you’ll have to come over and watch it with me. Ed Sullivan’s the host, and I heard his first guests are going to be Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.”

“Count me in.”

After Karen left, Marie thought about her mention of Lulu’s family. Her last name was Botkin. That wasn’t that common of a name, at least not in this country, and Marie feared the worse, that she may be related to Ivan.
Will I ever get completely away from Richard and his sleazeball friends?
She feared not.

The following Sunday, Marie drove to Karen’s house, a small one-story bungalow on the east side of town. A healthy crop of weeds was the only thing keeping the lawn green. There were no trees, shrubs or flowers in her yard.

Once Marie saw the outside of Karen’s house, the inside didn’t surprise her. It wasn’t particularly neat and clean the way Marie kept her apartment, and it lacked color, warmth and style. It lacked life.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Karen said.

“What?”

“That I don’t have much decorating sense.”

“I wasn’t thinking that, but if you ever want my help, just say the word. What are these?” Marie asked, looking inside a display case in her dining room.

“Antique handcuffs.”

Marie shot her a quizzical look. There must have been close to fifty pairs.

“Don’t ask.”

“C’mon, Karen. I have to ask.” She took a closer look. “What is this one?”

“That one is called a chain nipper.”

“And this one?”

“A leg iron.”

“What ever got you started collecting these?”

Karen laughed. “Ed got me started on it when we first met.”

“Handcuffs and leg irons.”

“I know. It’s a bit odd. We may not have been your conventional couple.”

They sat down to watch
The Toast of the Town.

“When Ed was alive, so was this house. Took great pride in keeping up the place. Nice lawn, flowers everywhere. He liked to putter around in the garden and would bring me flowers all the time. Had plants in every room. Decorated the place for every holiday.”

“So you didn’t keep up that tradition?”

“No. I’m afraid when Ed died, so did a lot of other things.”

“Like what?”

“You’d be surprised at what I used to do when he was alive. Like tutoring the Mexican families on the other side of town in English, teaching piano, taking flying lessons…”

“Flying lessons?”

“Yeah. Ed and I would talk about things, and the next thing I knew I was getting involved in something new.” She made a face. “I don’t have much interest now.”

“How did he die, Karen?”

Karen sighed. “My parents owned a summer home. On the river near Leavenworth. Ed and I went there on weekends every once in a while when they weren’t using it. We planned to go there this one weekend, but the person who was going to watch my shop got sick at the last minute and couldn’t do it. So Ed went up on his own on Friday night, and I was to go up the next day.” Karen stopped for a moment. Her voice trembled when she continued. “When I got there, I found him. Shot himself in the mouth with a twelve-gauge shotgun.”

She said it so softly, Marie wasn’t sure if she had heard correctly. She moved closer to her and took Karen’s hand and squeezed it. “I am so sorry, Karen. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through.” She felt incredibly guilty about not having asked her more questions before this about how he died. Karen had always been vague about it, and Marie just assumed it wasn’t a topic Karen wanted to discuss.

A faraway look drifted across Karen’s face. “You know, when something like that happens, you run the whole gamut of emotions. First shock. Then sadness, which was immediately followed by guilt. And then I got angry at him. Why he didn’t talk to someone about whatever it was that was bothering him, I’ll never know. And then I felt guilty about getting angry. And then I got angry at myself for feeling guilty. I lived with a big jumbled up mess of emotions for a really long time.”

“Did you ever suspect he was that unhappy? Did he leave a note?”

“Never suspected
anything.
We had a good marriage. He did leave a note, but I never figured out what he meant by it. All it said was, ‘I can’t continue living the lie. Love, Ed.’”

“And you have no idea what he meant by that? Was it addressed to you?”

“Wasn’t addressed to anyone. Just assumed it was for me. And, no, I have
no
idea what it meant. I must have read and reread that note a thousand times trying to figure it out. Even if he was unhappy, and what he meant in the note was our marriage was a lie, he didn’t have to kill himself. I don’t know. The explanation died with him, I guess.”

“How frustrating that must have been for you.”

“Can’t even begin to tell you how frustrating it was—the not knowing.” She paused for a moment. “I thought the least I could have done was figure out why he did it. And I tried. Even closed the shop for a few months trying to figure it out. I read books on why people do it, thinking I would find the answer there. Saw a psychologist and a grief counselor. That was pretty much a waste of time. No one had an explanation for me that made any sense. I felt, I still do feel, like such a failure.”

It troubled Marie to see the depth of the far-off hurt in her friend’s eyes, and suddenly she realized how alike they were, each having been robbed of a “happily ever after.” But it was more than that. She hadn’t thought about it before, but Richard caused her to be a different person than she was before meeting him, a different person from the one she wanted to be now.

“I feel so bad for you, hon. That had to be a horrific scene for you to discover.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“You poor thing.” Marie felt empathy toward Karen and her search for meaning. “Did those counselors you talked to explain that you shouldn’t feel guilty about it…that you had no control over his actions?”

“They did. And in time, I learned to do that. What I never learned, though, was to accept the fact that I couldn’t figure out why he did it. I was his wife for Pete’s sake, the one closest to him.”