Nora and Liz

by Nancy Garden

“Eyes on the road, Nora. Yes, I was. He was a great friend to both of us. Both me and Jeff.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Gentle. Intelligent. Unflappable. Nothing shocked him. When I told him…” She broke off; she’d been about to say When I told him I was gay.

  “When you told him what?”

  “Oh, anything. He never reacted with anger or condemnation, no matter what it was. He’d just think about it, and then respond very carefully, very fairly. If he felt anything negative he’d keep it to himself till he’d thought it through, and then he’d discuss it with me, still carefully, not so much as a father but as a wise teacher. Watch out!” A squirrel ran across the road but by the time Liz spoke, Nora had already applied the brake. Not the clutch, though; the car jerked and stalled.

  “Sorry. I forgot. What do I do now?”

  “Start it again with the key. It’s okay. It’s hard to remember everything at first. With practice, things like that will be automatic.”

  “That wasn’t what you were going to say,” Nora said when the car was moving forward again. “Was it?”

  “What? When?”

  “When you were talking about how your father reacted to things. You started ‘When I told him…’ as if you were going to say something specific.” She glanced at Liz. “Or am I prying?”

  “Yes,” Liz said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I guess you are a little. It’s my fault, though. I shouldn’t have started to say what I was going to say.”

  Nora smiled ruefully. “Secrets. That’s too bad.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, because secrets—I guess secrets stand between people. Between friends. Not that I ever had many friends. Just two, really, in high school. And I was only close to one of them, Marsha.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “That was Peter. I told you about him.”

  “Umm.” Liz nodded. “The boy you didn’t go out with. And weren’t much interested in.”

  “Right.” Nora glanced at her again, then looked back at the road ahead. “Your turn. You said you weren’t much interested in men either. But for all I know, you might even have been married and divorced four or five times!”

  Liz laughed nervously. Then, even more nervously, she said, “Nope. I did live with someone for a few years, but we broke up.” She was about to add “a woman” when the car lurched forward. Nora took one hand off the wheel and quickly squeezed Liz’s. “Whoops! Sorry. Sorry for the leap ahead and for your break-up. Did he leave or did you?”

  “I left,” Liz said, deciding not to correct her. The moment had passed. Or was it, she wondered, my courage that passed?

  “Good,” Nora said. “I mean, not really good, but I guess it’s not as bad for the person who leaves. Of course I wouldn’t know. I guess it’d be because of the reason. I mean if he beat you or started seeing someone else, then it would be bad and good, bad that he’d hurt you but good that you left.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Liz said stiffly.

  “Oh. I’m sorry again. I’m asking too many questions. It’s just that I like you so much and I want to be your friend. And I’m curious about you. You have a whole huge life in the city that I don’t know anything about. It’s been so long since I knew, really knew, anyone from—from the Outside is how I think of it. As if I were a nun or a prisoner.”

  “You are, kind of. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I guess I am. In a way.”

  “Turn left here. Slow down—good. Now downshift. Good. Turn. Easy does it with the wheel, Nora. That’s it. Okay. Now—beautiful! You remembered to go back into third. Well done.” Liz relaxed again. “Do you think you’ll ever get out? You know, leave the farm, leave your parents?”

  “Not while they’re living. They do need me. I’d feel guilty and I’d miss my mother. Well, I already do miss her. Like I told you, she’s not who she was. Neither’s my father, but with him, it’s that all the bad things about him are worse and the few good things are mostly gone. But Mama was always gentle and we were always friends. She taught me everything I know about running the house. And now she doesn’t remember how to do much of anything.” Nora paused; her voice had wavered a little. Liz wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but was afraid of distracting her, both from her driving and from what she was saying.

  Finally Nora looked toward her, smiling. “I do like a lot of what I do, Liz, living in that old house, reading and proofreading and writing poetry, and going to church and tending the garden and putting up the things I grow and making jam from the berries I pick. Sometimes it’s lonely and hard, yes, but I’m not sure I’d know how to cope if I left. Now my life has a predictable rhythm along with the seasons and the chores that go with each one.” Her smile broadened. “I don’t understand how people can live in places where there’s only one season, do you?”

  “Like Florida? No. My brother lives in California, near San Francisco. He has half-baked seasons. In the summer the grass turns brown, and in the winter it rains instead of snows.”

  “But there’s snow nearby, isn’t there? In the mountains?” Nora laughed. “I read a lot.”

  “Yes, you’re right. And he does go skiing. Or he did, before the baby came.”

  “Baby!” Nora said wistfully. “It must be nice to have a baby. I wish…” She broke off, shaking her head.

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s crazy, but sometimes I do wish I could have a baby. No husband; just a baby.”

  “Maybe you could adopt a baby. Single people can, these days.”

  Nora gave Liz a look. “Sure,” she said. “As if anyone would let someone in my situation adopt a baby. No electricity, no running water, two old folks who need as much attention as the baby would.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But maybe when…” She stopped.

  “Maybe when they die? Maybe. I’ve thought about it. But I’ll probably be too old then.”

  Liz studied her face. “Tell me if this is rude,” she said, “but have you thought about what you’ll do when they’re gone?”

  “A little. You’re not rude. I don’t know what I’ll do.” Nora sped up—thirty, thirty-five; Liz watched the speedometer, but it steadied just short of forty. “Probably nothing. I’ll probably go right on doing what I’m doing. As I said, I’m not sure I’d know how to cope anywhere else. I suppose I might get the house fixed up, though, someday. Gradually modernized.”

  “But not move?”

  “I love the house,” Nora said. “I might get some sheep, make a farm out of it again.” She paused as if considering that. “But Father’s healthy as a horse, for all his complaints. He’ll go on forever, I think. What about you? Would you like a baby? A husband?”

  “No,” Liz said, startled, then uncomfortable again. Her mind shouted TELL HER!

  But she found she couldn’t. “Not a husband,” she said. “But I’d consider a baby.” If I had a partner, she added silently. A real relationship, an honest one.

  “You could adopt a baby easily, I bet.”

  Liz pulled her thoughts back. “Not with my schedule. The kid would have to be in day care a lot, and that’s no good.”

  “You could take time off. Couldn’t you? At first?”

  “Maybe. But I’m not going to do that. I don’t think I’d want to be a single parent. I’m not as good as you at taking care of people by myself, I’m afraid.”

  “But you are good,” Nora said, “at teaching, teaching swimming and driving, anyway. Who’s that? Should I stop?” She slowed down.

  A figure was waving at them from the side of the road, a golden retriever by his side. Liz, annoyed, recognized Roy.

  “Oh,” she said, “he’s a guy the Davises, you know, at the vegetable stand, introduced me to. Roy Stark. Let’s just wave; you don’t need to stop.”

  But Nora had already braked and now Roy was striding toward the car, the dog bounding ahead of him.

  “Down, Zeke,” he ordered as the dog jumped enthusiastically on the passenger
door, making Liz laugh in spite of herself. “The mail carrier on my route has biscuits in the car so Zeke thinks all cars are full of Milk Bones. Sorry.” Roy pulled the dog down and made him sit. “I don’t think he scratched it,” he said to Nora over Liz’s head, then looked at Liz. “Hi, Liz! Isn’t this your car?”

  “Yes,” Liz said.

  “She’s teaching me to drive,” Nora explained.

  “This is Roy Stark,” Liz said. “Roy, Nora Tillot.”

  “Oh, so you’re the woman from the Tillot place.” Roy, with what Liz was sure was meant to be a dazzling smile, held out a hand, stretching it through the window across Liz. “Nice to meet you.” He winked at Liz. “Told you we’d run into each other,” he said. “By the way, I got your message from Georgia.”

  But Nora was already saying “Nice to meet you” to him. “We’ve got this old car at the farm,” she went on, “and Liz thought if I learned how to drive, then maybe we could get it running again and I wouldn’t have to depend on other people for transportation.”

  “Good idea,” Roy said. “Hey, listen, if you need help with the car, I’m a pretty good mechanic. And I’d love to see your farm.”

  “Are you really?” asked Nora. “A good mechanic?”

  “I’ve already asked my dad’s mechanic,” Liz said quickly, then felt ashamed. Can I actually be jealous, she wondered. “Thanks anyway.”

  “You’re welcome. So, I’ll leave you to your lesson. Good to see you again, Liz.” Roy winked again and stood there watching as they drove off.

  “He seems interested in you,” Nora observed after a few minutes of silence.

  “More in you, I think. Actually, Nora, I…”

  But another squirrel ran across in front of the car, making Nora swerve, brake, and stall again.

  Once more, the moment passed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “There she is, ma’am.”

  Ned McNeil, junior, who looked more like his father’s younger brother than his son, straightened up with a wrench in his hand, beaming first at Nora and then at Liz. Ned, senior, Liz’s father’s mechanic, gave something on the underneath of the Tillots’ old Ford sedan a quick wipe, and then stood, his grizzled face also beaming. The Neds had worked tirelessly all weekend and for two days before, almost camping out in the Tillots’ barn and at one point towing the car, which hadn’t run when the Neds had first tried it, to their garage on the other side of town so they could put it on the lift. Ralph had grumbled and fought at the idea, first of Nora’s driving lessons and then of having the Neds fix the car. “Emergencies, my foot,” he’d growled, when Nora told him that was the purpose of both projects. “Like the telephone. That woman’s a bad influence, Nora. Next thing I know, you’ll be bringing in the electric.” Ralph had refused to take an open interest in the car repairs, but Nora had caught him more than once at the kitchen window. He was there again today, she saw, perhaps because she’d told him this was the day the car would be ready. “And we’ll celebrate tonight,” she’d told him at breakfast, “if it is ready.”

  Ralph hadn’t reacted, so she thought it wise not to tell him Liz would be staying for supper.

  “You’d best take her for a spin, Miss Tillot, see how she runs,” said Ned, senior.

  “Call me Nora, please,” Nora said for the third or fourth time. She glanced nervously at Liz. “I don’t know if I…”

  “Sure, let’s!” Liz opened the driver’s side door and gestured to Nora to climb in.

  “You’ll come, too?”

  “Try and stop me.” Liz went around to the passenger side, stopping on the way to say to the Neds, “Can you guys stick around for a bit? Just to make sure she runs okay? And”—she nodded toward Nora—“to reassure Nora; she’s a little nervous.”

  Ned, senior, grinned. “Sure we’ll stick around, Lizzie. But she looked like she did pretty damn well again yesterday, practising in your car. You’re a good teacher, I’ll bet.”

  “That’s my job, Ned, that’s what I do.” With a wave, Liz slid into the Ford. She took the key from the dashboard and handed it to Nora.

  Nora hesitated. “Where’s Father?”

  “Still at the kitchen window. Don’t worry The Neds’ll handle him, if need be. Come on, Nora, you’ll do fine. And so will old Esmerelda, here.”

  Nora inserted the key and turned it. The car coughed, bucked a little, then turned over and whirred smoothly; the Neds both cheered. “Esmerelda?” Carefully, Nora shifted into reverse.

  Liz shrugged. “Maybe Ermentrude. I always name my cars.”

  “Oh really?” Looking over her shoulder, Nora backed away from the barn. Her voice shook a little, but Liz could tell she was excited as well as nervous, and silently thanked the Neds again for making this bid for freedom possible.

  “So what’s your car’s name?” Nora asked. “The one you’re driving now?”

  “Sally. Mind the outhouse.”

  Nora braked, a little too hard. “Whoops,” she said, reddening as the Neds, who had sprung aside, both grinned. Ned, junior, wagged a finger at her; his father grabbed his hand and pulled it down.

  “It’s okay,” Nora shouted. “I deserved that! All right,” she said to Liz, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. “We’re off.”

  And she drove slowly but smoothly down the driveway. Esmerelda-Ermentrude coughed again once or twice, but otherwise did fine.

  At the main road, Nora stopped. “Now what?”

  “Go on, why don’t you? Let’s go down to, oh, Greely’s Hardware. That’s only about five miles, Nora.”

  Nora bit her lower lip and smoothed her hands on her skirt. “Okay. If you don’t mind taking your life in your hands.”

  “I don’t mind, but I’m not worried. You’ll do fine. Just keep your eyes open and…”

  “…your wits about you,” Nora finished in unison with Liz, who had claimed earlier that that was all one needed to remember once one got the hang of driving; Liz laughed and said, “Right.”

  “Well. Here goes.” Nora headed slowly out onto the main road, braking as a car full of teenagers passed her, yelling, “Get a horse.”

  “Costs too much to feed!” Nora yelled back.

  I love you, Liz said silently. Lord, help me, but I love you!

  ***

  When they got back to the farm and Nora, flushed with victory, fairly flew out of the car, Ralph broke clumsily away from the Neds with whom he’d obviously been standing for a while, leaning white-knuckled on his walker. “What in tarnation do you think you were doing?” he roared.

  “Driving the Ford,” Nora said calmly. “Someone had to test it. It runs fine,” she said to the Neds, shaking their hands, ignoring Ralph, who was still sputtering. “I can’t thank you enough. Let me just get my wallet.”

  “No need,” said Ned, senior. “Like we said, Liz, here, is an old friend, and I owed her father a favor. He died before I could pay up, so I figure this is it, since it was Liz who asked us to do the job.”

  “It was fun,” Ned, junior, said. “Lots of fun. I love old vehicles. And,” he added, smiling broadly at Nora, “if you ever have any trouble with her, just give me, I mean us, a call. I’ll be happy to come give her a once-over now and again, too. Or go on with those driving lessons. There’s some differences between old cars and new ones. Not that you’re used to either, much, I guess,” he added sheepishly, “but you did learn on Liz’s, and…”

  “You’re right,” Nora said, looking amused. “But thanks to you and your dad, and Liz, I think I’ve just about grasped most of them by now.”

  “Oh, there are a few obscure differences,” Ned, junior, said.

  “Come along, you young scoundrel.” Ned, senior, cuffed his son affectionately. “Miss Tillot has better things to do than ride all over the countryside with the likes of you.”

  “She certainly does,” Ralph said belligerently, glaring at Ned, junior. “Don’t you get any ideas, young man!”

  “Crusty old bastard,” Liz
heard Ned, junior, exclaim under his breath as his father pulled him away.

  “Come along, Father.” Nora patted Ralph’s arm. “We’ve just got cold meat loaf and salad for supper. But Liz is staying, to help us celebrate. She’s brought a yummy-looking carrot cake and some ice cream.”

  Liz ignored the poisonous look Ralph gave Nora. “And as it happens,” she said, “I’ve also got a nice bottle of red wine in the car. We can really celebrate!”

  “We’ll need to save leftovers from the meat loaf,” Ralph grumbled. “And I can’t drink wine. Too much medication. It harms my stomach.”

  “The meatloaf’s already leftovers,” Nora said, winking at Liz. “And if you can’t drink any wine, Father, there’ll be all the more for the rest of us.”

  “Your mother can’t drink it either,” Ralph retorted. “And a whole bottle’s too much for you girls. Now listen, Nora,” he said as Nora and Liz helped him maneuver up the two steps to the back door. “Just because that old car’s working again is no reason for you to go gallivanting all over the county. Remember you said that it’s just for emergencies.”

  “But, Mr. Tillot”—Liz held the door for him—“the car’s got to be used regularly or it’ll seize up again the way it did before. I don’t think you can count on the Neds to fix it again for free.”

  “No, and I wouldn’t ever ask ’em to. Are you sure,” he said, facing Liz, his eyes bright with suspicion, “that they did owe your father a favor?”

  “Positive. There’s no debt to you or Nora. You’re not beholden to them in any way.”

  Ralph grunted. “Sure better not be. It’s not as if I asked ’em to fix the damn car.” He grunted again as Nora and Liz eased him down into his chair at the table and Nora went to get Corinne. “And listen.” He leaned forward and pointed at Liz, who was standing there awkwardly, uncertain whether to sit down or start setting the table. She still wasn’t sure where some things were, or what china Nora would want to use.

  “Listen,” Ralph said to her again. “I don’t want Nora going off all the time. She belongs here. Her mother and I need her at home, you understand? I know she’s been seeing you a lot, helping with the garden and all.”