by Pamela Morsi
Suzy didn’t dispute the characterization.
“What about my reputation, my place in this community? It’s my home now, too.”
Suzy’s expression was puzzled. “It’s not like you’re here forever,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“For sure you’ll move on to a better job or a city with some social life,” she said. “Nobody expects you to really stay here.”
“I do,” D.J. replied adamantly.
“Please talk to him.”
“No.”
“You have to.”
“I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do. I already promised Kimmi that you would.”
“What?”
“Please, I’ll be your best friend.”
“You sound like a second grader.”
“You’re right. And in this town, I’m already your best friend. Please do this for me.”
“No. I really can’t, Suzy.”
“Think about it. Think about poor Viv. I know you like her and wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Think about your own mother, you’d want to know if something was wrong.”
The words brought a painful clutch to D.J.’s heart. She’d had sufficient practice in hiding her feelings. But she couldn’t always hide them from herself. What her own mother had thought or did or struggled with would always be a mystery unsolved. D.J. did understand the ache to know.
“I can’t promise,” she said finally. “But I’ll think about it.”
“Yes!” Suzy pumped her fist in the air as if she’d scored a major coup. “I knew I could count on you.”
Twenty-Two
374.6 Adult Education
Viv had never really spent any time with animals. It wasn’t as if she disliked them. In all honesty, she never paid very much attention. In her busy life, where she helped run a business, parented two children and kept up civic work in the community, a pet had always seemed like one more chore.
Yet, to her complete surprise, she’d found Mr. Dewey to be a very welcome companion. They walked to the cemetery together every day now, and she let the little dog run wild while she talked to John. Mr. Dewey never ran far and when she was ready to leave, he was always there, happy and enthusiastic. Viv realized what a blessing that was. Leaving John every day was like losing him over and over again. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay. And the allure of that had not faded with time, but had gotten stronger. It had become the goal that she was working toward.
She knelt at the grave, not even bothering with the excuse of weeding or planting. She was there for companionship. To share a conversation with the person that she loved best.
“I’m moving on to Plan B,” she told the headstone. “I hate to do it. I never wanted to be one of those mamas that had to have everything to suit her. I guess that’s who I’ve become. But extraordinary problems call for extraordinary solutions. Didn’t some famous person say that?”
There was no answer from the chunk of polished granite.
“They’re both being stubborn,” Viv said. “He pretends that he’s perfectly fine with things the way they are. And she disliked him on sight. But I’m sure I have to trust your judgment on this. I’ve always trusted you on matters of the heart. Do you remember when you told me we should get married?” She laughed at the memory. “You didn’t ask me, you told me. You were so certain that you could make me happy. And you did.” She sighed heavily. “I’m not happy now,” she said. With determination, Viv firmed her jaw and her conviction. “What I’ve got to do is force them together. Like a rock in a river, nature will take its course and more quickly in a rainstorm.”
She nodded to herself, reassured. “I know we’re right about this, John. They just need the opportunity to discover each other. There’s something about those two together that simply works. I’m sure about it.”
Viv reached out to run her fingers tenderly along the carved out lettering in the stone.
“Together is one of my favorite words, you know.” The afternoon sun had warmed the dark granite. Viv needed that warmth. She needed it desperately.
She stretched out in the grass along the length of the grave. This was absolutely the closest she could get to him. But it wasn’t close enough. She ran her hands along the stubby grass.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
It was no good. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t listening. Why had he come that one time and then hadn’t come back? Viv needed him. She needed to be with him.
The tears began spilling out of her eyes. Those on the left traveling across the bridge of her nose to rain down into the rivulets on her right cheek. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear the emptiness of it. It was as if her whole life had ceased to exist when John ceased to be a part of it.
Suddenly Mr. Dewey was there, panting his little doggie breaths and lapping up the salty tears on her cheeks. At first, she pushed him away, but he came back even more enthusiastically.
“You silly pooch!” she scolded, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. “I must look like an idiot to you. I certainly look like one to myself.”
She scratched the happy dog behind the ears. Mr. Dewey had a big, satisfied smile on his face and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. It was hard for Viv to hang on to a pensive mood.
“You want to play, don’t you? That’s all you want to do. Play, play, play. Do you think I have nothing better to do?” She laughed aloud at her own question. “Okay, so you’ve got me on that one.”
Reenergized, she got to her feet. The dog pranced happily along the path ahead of her as they headed toward home.
Twenty-Three
347.0 Civil Procedures
The arrival of the combines could have been heralded by a trumpet, but it honestly wasn’t necessary. The sudden silence across town was heard as loudly as any announcement. After days of frantic energy, Main Street was drowsy, deserted. And Sanderson Drug was completely empty, except for the proprietor. Scott sat on one of the stools at the counter, putting together the grab-and-go breakfasts that he hoped to hand out the next morning. One fresh peach, a stick of beef jerky and a packaged cinnamon roll. At two bucks, it was the cheapest food in town. But it was a tradition in the store. The Sanderson Drug logo on the brown paper bags was as familiar to the hordes of harvest folk passing through as it was to the locals.
Scott had first performed this job when he was perhaps only six or seven. His father had given him the task, explaining how hungry the men would be and how disappointed if something were missing from the bag. Biting down on his lower lip, Scott had taken on the task with the seriousness and diligence that one could typically expect from children believing they shoulder adult responsibility.
Today he could do it by rote and allow his mind to wander. Perhaps because of the association with the task, he began to think about his dad. His father was a goodhearted, generous soul, who always had a word of advice for his only son.
“Listen to your mother. She’s never on anybody’s side but yours.”
A worthwhile suggestion for a stubborn preschooler, who felt his mom and sister were tag-teaming him.
“Work hard, apply yourself in school. Your brain needs as much exercise as the rest of you.”
An important concept for a twelve-year-old athlete who had vague aspirations of a career in the NBA.
“Marrying the right girl is the single most important ingredient for a happy life,” he’d also said.
That had been more of a warning than a random bit of wisdom. Scott wished that he’d heeded it. But at the time he’d been listening to other voices.
“It’s sin,” she had said to him once after they’d slept together. “That’s why it feels so wrong to me. Because I know it’s a sin.”
“Sin?” There had been incredulity in his tone, and he made no attempt to hide it.
He had finally gotten Stephanie to come up to Lawrence to visit him. He’d spent the bulk of his coffee money on a nice bottle of wine, h
e’d lit up his little apartment with candles and strewn rose petals on the bed. He’d gotten on one knee and offered her a beautiful ring. Away from Verdant and all of the strictures there, he’d hoped it could be different between them, but it wasn’t. Their relationship still felt tense, and their sex life was as uncomfortable as it had always been.
“You said ‘yes.’ Now we’re engaged,” Scott pointed out to her.
“But we’re not married,” Stephanie said. “So technically it’s still sin.”
She hadn’t allowed him to completely undress her.
And the articles of clothing that he had managed so painstakingly to remove went back on in a rush of modesty.
“Stephanie, what is going on with you?” he asked. “The girl who made it through high school copying my homework and cheating off me in tests now has moral compunctions.”
“That’s different,” she said. “You were going to have to learn the periodic table anyway. There’s no reason for us both to know it.”
She tossed her hair in that artless way that he’d always found so attractive. She was a truly beautiful woman. A natural corn-silk blonde with big blue eyes and a long, leggy figure.
“Maybe we should talk to somebody about this, a counselor or someone. Sex can be better than this.”
“Oh really? So are you an expert on the subject?”
He didn’t reply. He had no intention to confess, but Stephanie saw it in his face.
“You’ve been with somebody else!”
He didn’t reply.
“My God! You’ve probably given me some disease.”
“We’re using condoms,” he pointed out. “I would always use condoms.”
“You have been with somebody else!” She stood angrily and began to pace the room. “Who was it? Some sorority skank? Some pharmacy student slut?”
“It’s not important. She’s not important. It was a one-night thing.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about the wild college lifestyle. Get some girl drunk and force yourself on her.”
“I would never force myself on anyone.”
“You force yourself on me all the time.”
“What are you talking about? I have never made you do anything.”
“You’ve made me do everything! Senior year and suddenly we have to have sex. I always said that I wanted to wait.”
“But we didn’t wait,” Scott pointed out. “I just want it to be better for us. Better for you. That’s why... that’s why I went with that other girl. So I’d figure out how to make it better for you.”
“It’s better for me if there is a lot less of it!”
Scott slipped another peach into another grab-and-go breakfast bag and shook his head. That had been the moment when he should have realized as clearly as he did now that what he had with Stephanie would never resemble anything like what he’d discovered with a complete stranger down on South Padre.
“You could have saved yourself a lot of time and grief,” he postulated aloud, “if you’d ended it then.”
But he hadn’t. Ever the optimist, he’d tried to make it work.
He’d since learned his lesson. Some relationships will simply never work. It was best to understand that up front. That way you don’t end up with a messy, semipublic divorce. Or, in the case of Eileen, an ex-lover who holds a grudge.
Scott mentally reaffirmed his decision to steer clear of ill-fated entanglements. If his soulmate, his true love, the woman of his dreams happened to walk through his door, he’d make an exception.
He chuckled to himself at the unlikelihood of that.
The bell above the front entrance tinkled. Scott looked up to see the librarian stepping into his store. He was surprised. As grumpy as she was at the movies, he expected her to avoid him like the plague. Expectations could be wrong. But she didn’t look particularly glad to be there.
His first thought was to make some snide remark. Then he reminded himself that just because she didn’t like him, did not mean that he had to dislike her. Everybody in town seemed to believe that she was very nice. And his mother adored her and her silly dog. There was no reason in the world for him to reflect D.J.’s unreasonable negativity. So he put on his best businesslike demeanor and offered a mild smile.
“Hi. Can I help you with something?”
The question seemed to catch her off guard. She glanced around as if trying to recall what she wished to purchase.
“No, not really,” she said finally. “I... I was taking a break and... most of the stores are closed.”
Scott nodded. “The IGA and the sandwich shop are open. Food, gas stations and farm implements, that’s about all anyone needs today.”
She accepted his answer, but continued to look unhappy and ill at ease.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she surveyed his one-man production line.
“Putting together something for the harvesters,” he answered. “Most of the businesses do something. It’s less a money-making deal than a gesture of goodwill.”
Her brow furrowed. “Does the library usually do something?”
“Uh, no. Not that I remember. I mean, what could the library do? It’s hard to read a book while you’re driving a truck.”
“Audiobooks,” she replied. “Maybe a free download.”
Scott nodded. “For sure everybody out there has ear-buds in,” he admitted.
“I’ll try to work on that for next year,” she said. “Thanks for the idea.”
He shrugged. “It’d be fun to think of those gnarled old guys out there listening to Wheat Farming for Dummies.”
“Perhaps we should suggest fiction,” she said. “Willa Cather’s O Pioneers! might be appropriate.”
Scott smiled. “Or One Hundred Years of Solitude," he suggested.
“Ah, so you are a reader,” she said.
He shrugged. “Self-defense. I grew up in western Kansas.”
“Two words for you. Satellite TV.”
“My mom and dad kept our house dish-free until I left for college.”
“Smart parents.”
“Maybe so. Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing toward the empty stools at the counter. So far it was the most reasonable conversation he’d had with D.J. It was possible that a passing acquaintance could be built on that. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or maybe on a hot day like this, an ice-cold pop?”
She raised her head and there was the slightest hint of a smile at the left corner of her mouth.
“I’d forgotten that we call it ‘pop’ here,” she said. “My babysitter in Wichita used to call it that.”
“I take it you’ve been living in the world of ‘soda’ for a long while now.”
“Yes,” she said as she took a seat. Scott walked behind the counter.
“Well, if you ask for a ‘soda’ at this counter,” he teased, “you’ll get a beautiful gigantic glass of flavored ice cream and seltzer water. I’d be happy to make you one. I’m an expert.”
Something momentarily flashed through her expression, but it was gone before he had a chance to interpret it.
“A pop will be fine,” she said.
“I can make that special, too,” he told her, hoping to coax the almost-smile back. “Chocolate Dr Pepper? Vanilla 7 Up? Cherry-coconut Coke?”
She shook her head. “I’ll take a plain Pepsi, please. I know it’s boring, but I like it.”
He filled the glass with ice and carbonated beverage. “Boring can be good,” he assured her. “Although we all know that sooner or later everybody’s got to break out of the rut.”
The weird look was back again as he set her drink in front of her. He had enough time to recognize it. Guarded. The librarian didn’t trust him and was holding something back. He was vaguely curious about what and why, but not enough to press her on it.
Scott gave her a passive smile and moved to return to his bag-stuffing chore.
Surprisingly, she waylaid him.
“I have something I want to talk to you about,” s
he said.
“Okay,” he replied, cautiously.
He really hoped that she wasn’t going to make some big explanation about why she looked at him like a loathsome worm. Scott figured that for the both of them, as well as the Verdant community at large, it was better for him not to notice how she looked at him and better for her not to comment upon it.
At that moment she looked as if she’d swallowed something detestable, and he knew for sure it was not the refreshment in the glass in front of her.
“I need to talk to you about...about your mother,” she said.
“My mother?”
“I’m sure that it’s not my place to say…” she began.
Clearly a line that was only used when people were intending to speak up anyway.
“Your mother has been... I don’t know if you’re aware that your mother has been...has been behaving...”
D.J. was so obviously struggling with her words, Scott felt sympathetic.
“You think my mother has been behaving strangely,” he offered.
She took his statement with a rush of gratitude. “Yes, yes, she has. I know that she’s only recently widowed... and let me express how sorry I am for your loss, but some of the... the unusual things that she’s doing... uh... concern me.”
The subject was being wrenched out of her so painfully that it was excruciating to even listen. Scott was pretty sure he knew what this was about. His mother’s machinations had been embarrassing to him, and he knew her and loved her. How much more humiliating must they be for the new librarian attempting to establish herself in the community to be swept up into a matchmaking scheme. He decided to put her out of her misery.
“Look,” he said. “For sure my mom has been trying to fix the two of us up since the day that you got here. I know it’s been kind of embarrassing. Uncomfortable for both of us. But you won’t need to worry about it anymore. I had a talk with my mom, and I made it clear to her today that she’s really overstepped the bounds of good parenting. It is time for her to butt out of my life and yours. She’s my mom. I love her and I try to please her. But on this, I put my foot down. You don’t have to worry about it. Interference from her is over.”