The Fix-It Man

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Wordlessly she obeyed, crumpling against him like a paper doll. “The w-washing machine,” she choked. “The washing machine broke.”

  “I heard the noise. I came down to see if I could do anything.”

  Abruptly her sobs changed to almost hysterical laughter. “Do anything? You? You can’t fix anything, Zachary Wainwright.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he murmured against her hair. “I can fix all the important things, if you’ll give me a chance.”

  “Is that right?” She raised her gaze to his. “Well, right now this washing machine is extremely important. Can you fix it?”

  “No.”

  “And how about the dripping kitchen faucet? Can you fix that?”

  “No.” His smile was sad as his gaze roved over her face.

  “Then what kind of handyman are you?”

  “The wrong kind for you, apparently.” He released her and stepped away. “Tell the girls goodbye for me. And tell them…tell them I left of my own accord.” Then he turned and walked through the living room and out the front door.

  The door closed with a click, and silence reigned in the big old house. As she stood ramrod straight as if before a firing squad, Diana gradually became aware that the silence was not total. From the kitchen sink behind her came the steady plop of water from the dripping faucet, the rhythm as constant as a clock ticking away the seconds, the minutes, the hours, the long days that stretched endlessly in front of her.

  * * *

  “Gone?” Allison cried, racing in the kitchen door and dropping her overnight case in the middle of the floor. “What do you mean, gone?” She took the stairs two at a time, headed for Zach’s room.

  “Mother, you can’t be serious,” Laurie said, walking to the foot of the stairs and peering up at Allison. “His stuff’s there, right, Al? Mom’s kidding.”

  Allison turned slowly from her inspection of the room and looked down the stairs at Laurie. “She’s not kidding.”

  “What?” Laurie spun toward her mother. “Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure. He got another place, that’s all.”

  “Where?” Laurie persisted. “You must know where.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Allison walked halfway down the stairs. “You had a fight, didn’t you?”

  “Not exactly,” Diana answered. “Look, girls, you don’t have to understand all the details. Zach and I decided we weren’t…getting along very well. And he certainly wasn’t much of a handyman.”

  “What difference does that make?” Allison protested, looking close to tears. “He tried real hard, and I—I want him to come back!” Her chin quivered.

  “Me, too, Mom,” Laurie said quietly.

  Diana took a deep breath. She had known this moment would be bad, but in the best interests of everyone, she had to get through it. “Zach would have left around Christmas, anyway. You would have been more attached to him by then and would miss him even more.”

  “Why does he have to go at all?” Allison wailed, slumping down on the steps. “Doesn’t he like it here?”

  “Not as a permanent home,” Diana answered. “His home is in California, just like yours is here. He’s hoping to get a special job at Stanford University.”

  “Well, I wish I could go to California with him!” Allison declared.

  Diana glanced up in speechless shock.

  “No, you don’t, Al,” Laurie interjected with a sigh. “You’d go to a different school, have to make all new friends.”

  Allison dropped her head into her hands. “I didn’t think of that. I wouldn’t want to really live there. Lanphier’s better than any old California high school. But I want Zach!”

  Diana listened quietly. The girls had confirmed exactly what she’d told Zach. They wished he’d stay, but they were hardly willing to follow him anywhere. And why should they? He wasn’t the cornerstone of their existence, only a welcome addition. Eventually their flurry of activities would fade the memories of his stay in the house.

  If he’d become a cornerstone of her existence, she had only herself to blame for falling in love with the wrong man. But intense as the pain was, she didn’t regret any of the time spent with him. He’d taught her that she was still a passionate, vibrant woman, and her life was richer because he’d been part of it. How she’d miss him, though.

  “Mom, are you all right?” Laurie peered anxiously into her face.

  With an effort, she smiled. “I’m fine, honey. A little tired, that’s all.”

  “Didn’t you get enough sleep last night?” Allison asked.

  Diana stared at her, dumbfounded. Such a simple logical question, yet how could she answer? She had told Zach that she couldn’t lie to her children, yet the truth at this point would reveal everything she’d been working so hard to keep from her daughters.

  Laurie touched her mother’s shoulder. “Never mind, Mom,” she said calmly. “It’s really none of our business.” She glanced significantly at her sister. “Is it, Al?”

  Allison’s head swung back and forth from Diana to Laurie. “No,” she said at last. “Not really. Want us to pick those flowers at Mrs. Eckstrom’s now, Mom?”

  Diana gripped the newel post and tried to control her whirling thoughts. What was happening? Who was shielding whom? “That would be fine,” she murmured.

  “We’ll put our stuff in our rooms,” Laurie said, running up the stairs, “and then we’ll go over. And I promise not to use the good scissors this time.”

  “Okay,” Diana said weakly, wandering toward the kitchen.

  “And Mom,” Laurie added, calling over the banister, “let’s have sandwiches for dinner. Al and I will make them, and you can take it easy.”

  Diana turned in the kitchen doorway to tell Laurie she’d make the sandwiches, but her daughter was already in her room. Would Laurie have made such an offer before Zach had come to live with them? Probably not. Chalk up another one for the fix-it man. And Laurie’s incredible grown-up handling of an awkward situation. Zach’s example of diplomacy and loving kindness had saved face for all three of them, even after he was gone. Suddenly Diana was sure. Her daughters would never mention it, but both of them knew she and Zach had been lovers.

  * * *

  Unable to tolerate the silence of his small impersonal apartment, Zach spent the afternoon walking. He directed his footsteps, knowing aimless wandering would take him right back to where he wasn’t wanted. Were the girls home yet?

  Home. He’d have to give up referring to Diana’s house that way. The lovely old two-story dwelling was home to Allison and Laurie and to the woman he loved, but not to him. Not anymore.

  He gazed upward through frost-blushed red maples to the crisp blue October sky. In a few weeks Springfield could expect its first snowfall. So much for the giant snowman he’d dreamed of building with Allison and Laurie, and the warm Christmas he had planned. Might as well work sixteen hours a day on his research and get the hell out of town.

  He turned the corner at Edwards Street and walked down Eighth, past the restored homes of families who had been Abraham Lincoln’s neighbors one hundred thirty years ago. Their names flitted through Zach’s mind—George Shutt, Henson Robinson, Allen Miller, Sarah Cook. Zach envied the sense of community suggested by the reconstructed neighborhood.

  He reached his destination and leaned against the white picket fence across the street from the tan house with leaf-green shutters framing its windows. He liked the side view of Lincoln’s home better than the imposing formal front. The side entrance led to a lattice-covered porch and a backyard where children might have played. From the front of the house Zach could imagine Lincoln the politician, but from the side he glimpsed Lincoln the family man.

  The house was the only one Lincoln had ever owned, the only place he’d put down roots. Then, after twenty years, he had allowed duty and ambition to take him away forever. His farewell speech, as he had stood at the depot before leaving to accept the presidency, had haunted Zac
h all afternoon.

  My friends, no one not in my situation can appreciate my feelings of sadness at this parting. To this place and the kindness of these people I owe everything.

  Thirteen

  The realization that Allison and Laurie knew about her affair with Zach had a curiously liberating effect on Diana. The passing days found her laughing and talking with the girls in a more relaxed fashion than ever before. Gradually her relationship with them became less that of a parent-child and more of a partnership.

  She depended on them as companions, too, and they acquiesced in an almost protective fashion. Diana knew that soon she’d have to stop leaning on Allison and Laurie for emotional support. After all, they wouldn’t be around forever. But in the first weeks after Zach had left, she took unabashed advantage of their company to ward off the demons of loneliness.

  One cool Saturday afternoon, after the last music student had gone, she walked into her bedroom to record a payment in her ledger. But suddenly she was sitting on the edge of the bed, close to tears as memories of Zach closed in around her. While she was teaching or when she was with the girls, she kept her equilibrium, but moments like this caught her by surprise.

  Jumping up impatiently, she wiped her eyes and marched into the living room, where Allison lay on the floor in front of the television and Laurie sprawled on the sofa reading a book.

  “Let’s have a leaf-raking party,” she said.

  Allison gave her a suspicious look. “What do you mean, a party? Sounds like work to me.”

  “Don’t be so lazy, Al,” Laurie said, glancing up from her book. “You want us to clean up the leaves, Mom?”

  “All of us will clean up the leaves…eventually,” Diana replied, smiling. Her oldest daughter was developing quite a conscientious attitude, but if Laurie didn’t watch out, she’d become as stuffy about her responsibilities as her mother had once been. “But first we can rake them into a big pile and jump in them, like you used to when you were little.”

  “Freaky!” Allison said with a grin. “Let’s go.”

  “Aw, Mom. That stuff’s for kids,” Laurie protested.

  “It is not,” Allison cried, pulling on a jacket.

  “So what if it is?” Diana rummaged through the coat closet and found a hooded orange sweatshirt. “I’m going to do it.”

  Laurie’s eyes widened. “You are?”

  “Sure.” Diana tugged the sweatshirt over her head and fluffed out her hair with her fingers. “Come on, Al.”

  Allison stopped dead in her tracks. “Mom, you called me Al.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re going by these days?”

  “Yes, but I thought you didn’t like it.”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind. Al is sort of cute and perky, and it goes with your new haircut. Coming, Laurie?”

  Laurie sighed. “I guess so. If you two plan to make fools of yourselves in the backyard, my reputation’s shot, anyway.”

  As they trooped into the garage to fetch rakes and plastic garbage bags, Allison turned to her mother. “You know, this is the kind of thing Zach would do.”

  Diana fought down the lump of emotion that rose inevitably in her throat. “Yes, I know.” She reached blindly for a rake. “Last one outside is a rotten egg.”

  They staged a contest to see who could rake the biggest pile of the yellow maple leaves in ten minutes, and the cool autumn air was filled with their taunts and shouts of triumph. Beethoven incurred the wrath of all three contestants as he scampered through each pile and sent leaves flying.

  “Mine’s the biggest!” Allison proclaimed.

  “Is not,” Laurie argued. “Look at my pile from this angle, and you’ll see it’s much bigger than yours.”

  “You’re both wrong,” Diana chortled. “Mine’s the biggest.”

  Allison and Laurie glanced at her then at each other. “Not anymore!” they shouted in unison and dove for her pile, scattering the crunchy leaves everywhere.

  “No fair!” Diana cried. “All right, you asked for this.” She ran toward Laurie’s pile and leaped into the middle of the dried leaves.

  “I get Allison’s!” Laurie yelled, and soon all three of them were jumping from one bed of leaves to another, with Beethoven running and barking at their heels and the caged chickens adding their squawking to the bedlam.

  “Hey,” called a deep baritone. “Can I play, too?”

  All three stopped in mid-motion, like children in a game of statues.

  Allison found her voice first. “Zach!” She scrambled to her feet and ran to open the back gate. Catching hold of the sleeve of Zach’s corduroy coat, she pulled him inside the fence. “We’re—” she stopped to get her breath “—we’re raking up the leaves.”

  “I can see that.” He grasped her by the shoulders and turned her slowly around while he studied her short bouncy haircut. “Very nice, Al. Makes you look older.”

  “Thank you,” she replied primly.

  “Too bad you weren’t here for our contest,” Laurie added, walking toward him.

  “Yeah, or for the part when we jumped in the leaves,” Allison said, giggling. “You know whose idea it was in the first place?”

  Zach grinned at her. “Yours.”

  “Mom’s,” Allison said, her blue eyes sparkling.

  Zach’s gaze finally shifted to Diana. Self-consciously she got to her feet and ran nervous fingers through her tousled hair. She glanced away uncertainly, and her heart almost stopped beating. Her memory hadn’t done him justice.

  “Your mother thought of all this? That’s great,” he said, his voice husky. “By next summer you’ll be spraying her with the garden hose.”

  “Can you stay for supper, Zach?” Laurie asked, touching his arm.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean dinner?”

  “Nope, because we’re eating in the kitchen tonight. That’s more like supper, isn’t it? Dinner’s when we eat in the dining room. We don’t do that much anymore.”

  “My, my.” Zach shook his head. “I leave you women for a few weeks and look what happens. Your mother’s cavorting in the backyard with leaves all over her sweatshirt, you’ve stopped eating in the dining room, and Al’s cut her hair—what else?”

  His teasing blue eyes held a question as he looked at her, but instead of answering him she looked down at her sweatshirt and began brushing the leaves away with shaking hands. What was he doing here? And could she stop herself from running across the yard and throwing herself into his arms?

  “Not much else,” Allison said. “But we sure miss you, Zach. Can you stay and eat with us?”

  He glanced in Diana’s direction. “That’s up to your mother. After all, it’s Saturday night, and she might have a date or something.”

  “She doesn’t go on dates,” Allison said, and Laurie reached over and nudged her with an elbow. “I mean, she could go on dates if someone—cut it out, Laurie!”

  “Al’s trying to say that Mom’s very discriminating,” Laurie remarked, glaring at her sister.

  Allison snorted. “There she goes again, Miss Dippy Dictionary. When did you learn that one?”

  “Eighth graders learn lots of things, bimbo. Like when to keep their mouths shut.”

  “Oh, yeah? I haven’t noticed that you—”

  Zach cleared his throat, and Allison sneaked a guilty glance upward.

  “Excuse us, Zach,” she said in a tiny voice. “We’d like you to stay for supper.”

  “It’s your mother’s decision,” he repeated.

  Allison turned pleading eyes on her mother. “Can he, Mom?”

  Diana gulped. Like hell it was her decision. Zach knew she wouldn’t say no, with Allison and Laurie staring at him like lost puppies. Again the question pounded through her brain. Why was he here? “If the girls would like you to stay, it’s fine with me.”

  Laurie eyed her mother and then studied Zach. “We would,” she said firmly. “If you don’t mind soup and toasted cheese sandwiches, that is. I’m fixing
it.” She pinned Allison with a baleful stare, obviously daring her to insult the cook.

  “Sounds terrific,” Zach replied.

  “Sure does,” Allison agreed, giving her sister a sunny smile. “All this running around is making me hungry.”

  “Want me to get started, Mom, or help rake?”

  “Go ahead and start supper,” Diana said. “Allison and I will clean up the leaves.” Now that the shared meal would be a reality, they might as well get through it as quickly as possible. Did Zach imagine he could just drop by on a casual basis once in a while? Her nerves wouldn’t stand it, and she’d tell him so the first chance she got.

  “I’ll help, too,” Zach offered cheerfully, picking up one of the rakes.

  “Great!” Allison said and grabbed her own rake. “Did you notice the fence is still holding up? Beethoven hasn’t gotten out once. And the chicken cage is okay, too. It only rocks a little bit. Maybe while you’re here, you can help me move it into the garage, where it’s warmer. I wanted to put them in the basement, but Mom’s not too crazy about—”

  “Allison, my goodness,” Diana interrupted. “You’ll talk Zach’s ear off.”

  Her daughter’s blue eyes narrowed. “That’s twice now, Mom. I thought you were calling me Al as of today?”

  Diana felt Zach’s curious gaze on her. “Uh, sorry. I forgot.”

  “Mom says Al goes with my new haircut,” Allison confided to Zach. “Right, Mom? You think it sounds perky, like me.”

  “Right.” Heart pounding, Diana searched for a way to extricate herself from the conversation. “Well, the leaves won’t bag themselves. We’d better get busy.” Picking up her rake, she walked to a far side of the yard and started to work.

  * * *

  Smiling, Zach leaned on his rake and watched Diana pile up leaves with feverish intensity.

  “I’ll hold a garbage bag, if you’ll rake the leaves into it,” Allison said.

  “Okay.” Zach continued to stare at Diana.

  “Or you can hold the bag, and I’ll rake into it.”

  “That’s fine.” She was so beautiful it made his heart hurt. He loved the way the afternoon sun picked out the shades of dark gold in her hair, and that sweatshirt was adorable on her. She –