The Doctor and the War Widow (2 page)

Chapter 2

Thursday before Memorial Day:

Harley hole-punched the contents of the last curriculum binder in time to hear Lindsey’s squeal. Shaking her head and smiling cynically, Harley barely looked up from her work. She lifted the completed binders and carried them to a file cabinet. Harley didn’t even glance at her fellow teachers as she tossed the binders without ceremony into the cabinet. Weariness seeped through her bones. She stretched and rubbed the small of her back.

“We’re going to finish by ten.” Lindsey grinned mischievously from her desk. The English department shared one bullpen office comprised of several desks. “Way in time for Memorial Day. Remember what you promised!”

“I don’t remember promising anything.” Harley placed the two remaining binders on a metal shelf aligned against the wall. Irritation as well as weariness seized her like a vise. She hadn’t slept well and wanted to go home. Jill had sent another round of edits, and she wanted to spend some more time at her computer after a glass of wine and a long nap. Stifling a yawn, she began placing supplies in a large, black tote bag. “You might want to take your stuff, girls. Remember we have little rugrats in here this summer.”

Jennifer groaned. “Do we still have the four-year-olds in here this year?”

“You bet.” Harley laughed dryly. “The school always sticks the little angels in here. If you have posters on the wall, take them down and put them in the hall storage closet.”

“You didn’t answer us.” Karen leaned on Harley’s desk, twirling those annoying braids. Her former student’s bouncy enthusiasm annoyed Harley. Karen hadn’t changed much from her days as a silly high school student and at times was like a disruptive kid when they held meetings.
“Are you going online to start dating?”

“Look, girls, I’m really tired. I’m sure we all want to go home.” Harley continued gathering the supplies into her tote. Karen moved away from the desk and quickly returned to her own, looking like the chastised child she had been only a few years before. Harley saw Jennifer shoot Karen a cautionary glance. Lindsey didn’t look up from her work. She’d surprised them. Usually she was good at hiding her irritation. Remorse suddenly stabbed her like a dull knife. She smiled at them. “Look, ladies, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long week. We can look forward to a long weekend and then summer. Let’s go.” Harley reached for her own black leather purse perched precariously on the edge of her desk, but it tumbled over the edge. “Goddamn!”

The junior teachers stared as if struck by lightning. They’d never heard Harley use anything resembling strong language.

Harley marveled at how little these women knew her and how little they had in common with her.
When she was home, a stubbed toe could elicit creative language from this otherwise prim schoolteacher. Eden used to look at her and say dryly, “Hit an elbow? A toe? I heard ‘shit fuck’ come from the other room.”

Harley suppressed a blush at her own irritation as Lindsey, whose own desk was nearer, hurried to gather the purse’s spilled contents before Harley made it to the front of her desk. They were sweet and only meant well, but Harley was in no mood for their goofiness.

“Who’s this?” Lindsey was holding a picture that had come dislodged from Harley’s wallet.

“Don’t!” Harley seized the picture as if the girl’s touch was poison. When she saw Lindsey’s lower lip tremble, tiny pin-pricks poked at Harley’s soul, and she cursed herself for feeling and acting like a witch. Her mother would have been disappointed, and Harley was ashamed by her own ill humor. “I’m sorry. It’s just very personal.”

Jennifer and Karen had flocked to Lindsey’s side. Karen gasped when she saw the picture of Harley and John standing in front of a sculpture in City Park. “Wow, who is that? He’s a dream.”

Harley met her gaze. She wouldn’t lie, but she’d never discussed John with her colleagues. He belonged in a separate compartment of her heart. “Jo-John was my husband.”

“We never knew.” Jennifer cleared her throat and looked down.

“Let’s go home, ladies.” Harley placed the picture in her purse, headed for the door with the other teachers in tow, and flicked off the lights in the room. She pressed back the hot tears springing to her eyes and strode to the parking lot, not looking back at the women staring after her.

Saturday before Memorial Day

“Think about it. What could it hurt?” Donna sipped her iced tea and grinned at Harley.

They sat together at Juan’s Flying Burrito on Magazine Street. The restaurant was one of the city’s most popular Mexican eateries, offering many of the vegan-friendly dishes Harley loved.

“What do you mean by such an obtuse comment?” Harley cut into her spinach tostado and gazed at her old friend from their high school years. Harley had been there for Donna during her divorce and subsequent remarriage. Donna had helped Harley through John’s death.

“Why not indulge the girls and put your profile online?” Donna took a forkful of Mexican rice and grinned broadly.

Harley grimaced as her blood raced inside her veins. She fought the urge to smack Donna hard. “Why not? Because they are nothing more than a bunch of adolescents who just like getting into other people’s business. I don’t indulge the fantasies of adolescents. I never did. Not as a teacher and not as an almost administrator.”

“Oh, yeah, how is that going?” Donna bit into her taco. Thick cheese, beef, and grease oozed from the sides.

Harley cringed as Donna bit into the dead cow as if she’d found nirvana. Harley wondered how in hell Donna stayed so damned thin
.
Donna was as statuesque and willowy as she had been in high school. Harley shrugged and bit into a mouthful of lettuce and feta cheese. “What do you mean? My possible role as disciplinarian for next year? I haven’t heard anything definite yet, and I won’t. The old bat Sr. Elizabeth doesn’t like me, not really. She doesn’t want me in administration. Acting as a department chair is one thing, but it’s not real administration.” Harley waved a hand dismissively.

“Sister Elizabeth doesn’t like anybody. Old bitch stares at me like she’s seen the devil every time I show up for some event that involves my niece.” Donna took a sip of Merlot. “Besides, maybe she’s right. Never thought I’d say that, but I can’t see you doing that job. Do you really want to spend your time disciplining kids? You were a dynamic classroom teacher.”

“
You
never saw me teach. You’re a sculptor, praise be to God. What do you know about teaching?” Harley laughed, took a sip of shiraz, and shook her head.

“You’re the only human being I know who has a group dedicated to your teaching on Facebook. Oh, the kids say good things about you, not bad. Some teachers have a hate group set up by nasty kids. Shit, you have a fan club.” Donna raised her eyebrows. “John’s been gone a long time. It’s time you had some sex and didn’t just write about it.”

“Jesus, D! Lower your voice.” Harley hissed and looked around. She steeled herself for what she knew was coming. An intense loneliness gripped her breast, but she forced herself to ignore the tightness constricting her lungs. “Nobody, and I mean nobody but a select few, know about Susan Weber.”

“Maybe it’s about time they did. Hell, the stuffy Archdiocese of New Orleans needs something to rock its center.” Donna motioned to the waiter. “We’d like two coffees and your famous cheesecake.” She turned a kind smile on Harley. “I’m sorry I brought up John. I know it still hurts, but you have to move on, honey. John wouldn’t want you moping around.”

“I know. I know.” Harley waved her hand dismissively, feigning a lightness she didn’t really feel. She ignored the heaviness coiling around her insides. “Besides, I’m more worried right now about keeping Susan Weber under wraps. I don’t make enough to support myself on writing alone.” Harley sighed and smiled as the waiter arrived with their coffees. “Maybe one day, but until then, I don’t want anyone at the school in my business.”

“Hell, woman, you were an adventurer. You and John traveled the world with backpacks. You sent me postcards from London and Tuscany.”

“Then John was killed, and my mother got sick.” Harley’s voice was ragged. The knife twisted inside her heart. John’s death was a dull ache that never went away. Eden’s death was a raw wound still bleeding. Eden had been Harley’s best friend, and she often called her mother by her first name as she grew older. When Eden was alive, Harley had occupied herself helping her mother and concentrating on her writing. Now, only the writing remained, and while she loved it, Harley too often felt empty and alone.

Donna raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your mother still wanted you to travel. You even told me that when she was dying she thought you should take a trip to Europe. John would want you to move on as well.”

“People always say that.” Harley suppressed the tears threatening to betray her. She fought to control her quavering voice. John’s loss had hurt ten years ago, and her mother’s death removed the scab from the still throbbing wound. She now cried for both of them and her father. Harley barely heard her own voice when she spoke. “Who can know what the dead want?”

Donna motioned with her fork and replied vehemently, “John asked us to look out for you. When he deployed, your sweet husband wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. He didn’t want you sitting at home when he was in that godforsaken place.”

That godforsaken place! Harley cursed war and its cruelty. It killed the bodies of those in the way of bombs, but it also murdered the souls of any left behind. Eden had kept her focused, but now, Eden was gone. Harley wiped away a tear that slid down her eye and clasped the wine glass so tightly that her knuckles went white. Her heart threatened to burst inside of her. “I know he wanted me to be happy, but his death took a lot out of me. Hell, I was only thirty, and then, my mother was sick for so long. Sometimes, I wonder if anything can reawaken my joy. Maybe I died, too.”

“Christ, life is unfair, I know.” Donna pretended to check the messages on her cell phone. “All you got was a box with a flag draped on it. Then, your mother . . .” Her voice trailed off briefly before she frowned at Harley and said emphatically. “You still have to move on. You’ll feel alive again.”

Harley looked away and swirled the wine in her glass. Gazing out the window, she concentrated on a black bird nibbling on some creature’s dead carcass. Memories now haunted her dreams. She awoke screaming from the same dream. A man in uniform pounded at the door. The images then faded to a roadside in a desert country. An insurgent, no more than a boy, approached a group of soldiers. The dream then floated back to the policeman telling her and her mother that her father was dead. Harley tried to scream, but she couldn’t awaken. The vision moved back to the desert. With one tug at his jacket, the baby-faced kid blew himself and the soldiers to pieces. Her father gone, John gone.

Harley’s skin turned to gooseflesh at the memory of the dream. She was thankful that she still had some wine in the glass. She took a greedy sip. Without looking at her friend, she said softly, “I still have the dream.”

“For God’s sakes, you need to see a professional about that.” Donna shook her head, frowning. “Hell, even a priest.”

“It wakes me up, and when it does, I go into the den, turn on the computer, and type away. It’s therapy and inspiration.” Harley shrugged and hoped she sounded carefree. She’d told Donna about the dream years ago and had cringed when she’d seen the pity in her oldest friend’s face. Donna was quiet for a long time. The waiter then brought their dessert, two slices of cheesecake.

Harley poured cream into her coffee. She swallowed and took a breath, casting a quick glance in Donna’s direction, hating the sympathy she saw there yet again. She swallowed again hard before saying the next words and averted her gaze. “Birds around the house hold her spirit. Eden’s trying to tell me something.” Harley empathized the words through clenched teeth. “I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you were, but birds? Oh, sweetie, you have to deal with this unresolved issue.” Donna placed a hand on Harley’s and searched her face, frowning. “I know you think I’m a nag, but I don’t want you falling apart.”

“Look, I’m okay. I can deal with it.” Harley snatched her hand from Donna and took a sip of coffee. When Donna remained silent, Harley laughed softly. “D, don’t look at me like that. I’m not nuts.” Harley sighed deeply.

Donna looked around to see if any other diners were listening then softly said, “I didn’t say you were nuts, but birds sometimes are just birds.” She smiled at Harley. “You might want to see your ob/gyn. The last thing you need is the moustache that comes with menopause.”

“
Nico
senses something about the birds, too.” Harley ignored Donna’s attempt at humor and wiped her mouth. She realized how she undoubtedly sounded to her friend and fought a brief wave of despair.
God, Donna must think I’m a psycho on the edge. Shit
. She herself wouldn’t believe anyone saying this crap. She sounded like a nut job.

“Well, Nico can’t exactly bear witness to that, can he?” Donna rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Something’s preying on your mind, Harley. Look, I’ll try not to act like your mother, and I’ll shut up now.” Donna smiled gently. “Though I think you’re losing it and need help, I still love you.”

Harley shook her head vehemently. “No shrinks.” Before Donna could protest, Harley held up a hand. “Definitely no head shrinks. Besides, I know the problem. My mother is pissed that I spend so much time in isolation. She’s sending me a message.”

“Okay, then, you have your answer. We’ve come full circle. It won’t hurt you to post your picture and a profile. You might meet some interesting people. Don’t you want to appease your mother’s spirit?” Donna took a bite of the cake and cast an encouraging glance at Harley. “It would do you a world of good to go on a few dates. Besides, you don’t want to live in a scene from a Hitchcock movie.”

Donna grew serious. “Harley, do this, okay? Remember what happened to you after John died? You really went off the grid.”

Harley was about to bite into her cake. Her fingers went slack and her fork fell to the floor. The waitress rushed to pick it up. Harley smiled faintly at her and leaned into the table so no one but Donna would hear. “Yeah, I thought I saw him everywhere. That’s not uncommon with people who are experiencing grief.”