An Irreconcilable Difference

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  For that one instant, he sounded like my old friend. I reacted accordingly. “What is it, Russ? What’s going on?”

  Russ’s voice was a deep, unaffected baritone. In fact, there was nothing remotely effeminate about him. It struck me anew that no one would ever have guessed he was gay. I certainly hadn’t in the thirty-odd years I’d known him. But then, I also hadn’t realized my husband was gay, which might say something about my powers of perception.

  He leaned forward, resting his tightly clenched hands on his knees. “I’m at my wit’s end, Lou,” he said. “These calls with Greg, well, they’re tearing Darren apart.”

  “Greg is calling Darren?”

  He shook his head. “Darren’s calling Greg. He’s called him a dozen times in the past few weeks. At first Greg insulted him. Then he started hanging up on him, and now he’s apparently screening his calls, because Darren can’t get through at all, and—hell, Lou, it’s tearing him to pieces.”

  “Why in the world is he calling Greg?”

  Russ rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. Looking for absolution, I suppose, or—hell, I don’t know.” He stared hard at the floor, and then looked in my direction from under bushy eyebrows, not quite meeting my eyes. “I told him to let it go, to give Greg some time, but he won’t. It’s like he’s—hell, obsessed or something.”

  I was astounded. This didn’t sound like Darren at all. Darren loved his son, but he wasn’t the kind of father who would beg his kids for anything.

  Before I could speak, Russ went on, “He’s got it in his head that if he can only talk to Greg, explain things to him, the kid will understand. But he’s wrong, Lou. I told him it will take time. He tells me I don’t understand.” He laughed bitterly. “I don’t understand, like I haven’t already been through this with the twins.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “God, they hated me. For a while they accused me of killing their mother. Said she wouldn’t have gotten cancer if she’d been happy. Hell, Lou, you know Judy was happy. We were both happy….” His voice trailed off and he stared at some spot over my shoulder. When he resumed, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Then they accused me of killing Janine. They said she must have sensed it or something.”

  He looked into the cold fireplace, then back, shaking off the nightmares that filled his head. “They came around, but it took time,” he continued, his voice almost normal. “That’s what I told Darren, but I could be talking to a wall. He’s not eating or sleeping, and I can tell you, it’s driving a wedge between us. We can’t talk anymore without fighting. I’d thought after the divorce was final, things would smooth out for us, but it’s exactly the opposite. They’re getting worse.”

  I squirmed. Although I prided myself of being a liberal woman, there were limits.

  Russ must have sensed my discomfort. “I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t mean to dump all this on you, but I don’t know what to do.”

  The self-protective part of me wanted Russ to leave, but I still wasn’t sure why he’d come. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “I thought maybe you could call Greg and—“

  “No.” Then, more moderately, “No, Russ. It wouldn’t do any good. Besides, this is their issue. They have to work it out between themselves,” I added, thinking Mother would be proud of me.

  Russ dropped his head. It must have seemed a threatening gesture to Jose, because I saw her muscles stiffen. I stroked her head. She glanced at me before her eyes returned to Russ.

  He finally looked up. “I don’t know what else to do, Lou. I don’t know how to handle this.”

  I wasn’t totally unmoved by Russ’s plea for help, but I was feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. “I don’t think it’s—appropriate—for me to be advising you on how to handle Darren,” I said a bit stiffly.

  “Could you at least talk to him?”

  “Me?”

  “Who else? You still care about each other, Lou. I know that. Nothing will ever change that. Talk to him for his own good. Tell him it’s going to take time. Patience.”

  “I thought you told him that.”

  “Of course I told him.” He shifted in his seat. “But Darren listens to you, Lou. He respects you and your opinions, and Greg is your son, too. Maybe if you told Darren to leave it alone, he’d listen. God knows he won’t listen to me.”

  I can’t say it wasn’t a real ego stroke to have this man pleading with me for help, but I resented it at the same time.” “I don’t know, Russ. If things are as bad as you say, I don’t think he’ll listen to me, either. Maybe the twins—”

  Russ was so miserable he forgot to be afraid of Josie. He reached over and gripped my hand. Josie emitted a low growl, but she stayed seated. “Please, Lou. He won’t listen to them. He won’t listen to any of us, but he might listen to you. I don’t know what’s going to happen if he doesn’t get a grip on himself.”

  I thought Russ was over-reacting, but I didn’t refuse flat out. I argued weakly for a few more minutes before I agreed to think about it. A part of me already knew that was all I was going to do. Think about it.

  Josie needed some time outside, even if it was wet time. I changed into my yard clothes—ratty jeans and a Falcon’s sweatshirt—and Josie and I were heading outside when the doorbell rang again. Josie emitted the same low-throated growl and preceded me to the front door, staying tight at my side. I half expected Russ to be standing there, ready to renew his pleas for interference. When I opened it, I took a step back in surprise. Gideon Klee. Holding an enormous pink bear. It looked suspiciously like the mate to the one I had given my granddaughter, Bobbie.

  “Klee.”

  “Lou.” He stood there expectantly, smiling.

  I was still rattled by Russ’s visit. When I didn’t speak, Klee said, “Mind if I come in for a minute?”

  I did, but not enough to make an issue out of it. Holding Josie’s collar, I stepped back, and he walked into my entranceway. “I didn’t want to bother you on your off time,” he drawled, “but I wanted to give you this.” He held out the bear. “I picked it up this afternoon. It’s the boy bear. You know, like the girl bear I had made for you.”

  I knew, but there was no way I was going to encourage this man by acknowledging it. “Klee—“

  “Gideon. Come on, Lou. It’s only a bear. No strings attached. See?” He held the bear up in the air and waved his hand over it, grinning at me. “It seemed a shame to break up the couple. They were made for each other, after all. Sometimes that’s the case, you know.”

  I certainly did not know. If he was referring to me and Darren, it was in poor taste and incorrect. If he was referring to him and me, he was way off base. I decided not to pursue it. “Klee, I don’t want gifts. I’m not comfortable receiving gifts from—“

  “From anyone,” he finished for me, “and that’s a darn shame, Lou. You’re a lovely lady, and you should be showered with gifts. You have to learn how to take, sugar,” he said, his voice wheedling now. “A lady needs to know how to take as well as give.”

  My mouth fell open. Josie, perhaps sensing my confusion, took a step forward. Klee looked down at her and his grin widened. “Don’t you worry, fella,” he said, acknowledging Josie for the first time. “I won’t hurt your mama.” He looked back at me. “I won’t, you know.” When I still didn’t speak, he said. “There’s no crime in giving a gift to a lovely lady.”

  I was still speechless. When he held the bear out to me again, I automatically took it.

  “We’ll have to work on getting you used to taking,” he said, a grin playing at his mouth. “You need a little practice, that’s all.” He tipped an invisible hat. “I’ll see you at the office.”

  With that, he was gone. I watched as he climbed into his elegant convertible and drove off. Neighbors were starting to arrive home. Garage doors opened remotely and closed the same way. Lights were going on in houses. A coolish, damp breeze rustled the bushes on either side of the front stoop.

  I pushed the door c
losed with my foot and stood looking in the hall mirror. I was a ridiculous sight, standing there in the foyer hugging a pink stuffed bear almost as big as I was. Hair in disarray, clothes that looked like Goodwill rejects, my morning’s makeup a distant memory. What in God’s name did the man see in me?

  Tossing the bear on the sofa, I started for the back door with a delighted Josie on my heels. As I stepped outside, I heard the doorbell ring again. This time I was prepared.

  I snatched up the bear on the way and flung the door open, thrusting it out. “Klee—”

  It took a moment to register who I was looking at. Jules Proctor smiled down at me. After the initial shock, my first reaction was relief that Greg wasn’t here to witness this masculine parade to my door. My second was fear. “Dad—”

  “He’s fine,” Jules said quickly, his smile vanishing. “I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t think of that. I should have called and warned you that I was going to drop by, but it was spur of the moment. I was two blocks over and thought maybe—” His voice broke off as he noticed Josie. His face broke into a broad grin. “Hi there, girl.” He knelt down on the front porch and held out his hand.

  Josie sniffed his hand cautiously, then more boldly. Surprisingly, she allowed him to scratch her head.

  My first question showed how rattled I was. “How did you know she was a girl?”

  He looked up at me and raised one eyebrow.

  “I mean—uh—have you seen her before?” I asked, visions of bereft owners stealing her away from me flashing before my eyes.

  Jules shook his head as he smiled up at me. “No, but I love dogs. I have two of my own,” he added, getting to his feet. “She probably smells them.”

  He took a step back and waited expectantly.

  I finally remembered my manners. “Uh—come in. Please.”

  I held the door wide, and he stepped inside. Josie might like this guest better than the last two, but she kept her impressive bulk between us. Cautious, my new dog.

  I didn’t know what to do with the ridiculous bear. I backed into the dining room and dropped it on the table.

  Jules followed me into the room. As he looked around him, I looked at him. This was a totally different Jules Proctor. I had never seen him in clothes other than his medical regalia. Today, he was dressed in a blue plaid shirt that brought color into his face and slacks that fit him very well. The blue in the plaid turned his eyes the exact same shade. They were hazel, I realized, not gray as I had thought before. Barometer eyes, my mother called them. If the color was any indication, his mood right was pretty good.

  “This is a beautiful room,” he said, startling me.

  I’m sure I blushed. Had he been watching me watch him? I looked around me, trying to see the room through his eyes. It wasn’t overly large, but it was more than adequate for my dining room furniture. The table and chairs were antiques, mid-1800s, that Darren and I had found during our wanderings. Dark oak, more ornate than I usually liked, but somehow in this room, it worked. There was muted cream wallpaper above painted wainscoting, and an iron chandelier, another antique store find, hung from the ceiling. The room, like the living room across the hall, felt—well, homey.

  “Thank you. We don’t use it a lot. I mean, I don’t. I hardly ever use it now.”

  I was suddenly acutely aware of my clothes, my disheveled hair and lack of make-up. Which was odd. I had grown comfortable with Jules over the weeks, during our walks together at Bradford Manor. Now, being with him was as awkward as being on a blind date.

  “Uh—would you like some coffee or tea?”

  Jules didn’t seem to feel the awkwardness. His mouth widened into a smile. “Tea would be good,” he said.

  I wasn’t surprised when he followed me into the kitchen. For the first time, I was glad I had the cleanest house on the east coast.

  He looked around. “What a great room.”

  I took down two glasses and filled them with ice. “Thanks.”

  “Did you use a decorator?”

  The laugh that erupted from me wasn’t very ladylike—or very polite. “I’m sorry. It’s that—well, I’m not a decorator sort of person. This,” I gestured with a glass, “sort of evolved over the years.”

  I poured tea from the pitcher. I started to hand him the glass, but then I pulled it back. “Oh. I should have warned you. It’s sweet tea.”

  He grinned. “Of course it is,” he said, taking a sip. “We’re south of the Mason Dixon line. Don’t worry,” he said when I frowned, “I’ve become a true southerner since I moved here. I even like fried okra and grits.” He gave the room another look and held up his glass. “Here’s to evolution.”

  It suddenly seemed strangely intimate, having this man standing in my kitchen. I led the way into the living room.

  He paused at the door, taking in the room. “I know I sound like a broken record, but this is a wonderful house.”

  I felt a little tingle of possessive pride. “Thank you. Again. I love it.” Realizing if Gideon Klee had said the same words, I would have told him it wasn't for sale.

  He sat easily on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other and resting one arm across the back. He had very nice muscles, I realized as I took the chair across from him. And I liked the way his hair fell on his forehead, soft and wavy. I had never noticed before how strong his neck looked, and—

  “That wasn’t quite true,” he said, looking a bit uneasy. “What I told you at the door.”

  My face burned again. Why was I suddenly so physically aware of this man? “Uh—” I searched my mind. “That you have two dogs?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I do have two dogs. But I wasn’t really in the neighborhood. I thought I’d take a chance and drop by to say hello.” He looked rather charmingly shy as he said it. “I should have called.”

  “Oh. No. That’s okay.”

  “The truth is, I—”

  The ringing telephone stopped him in mid-sentence. Whatever the truth was, it would have to wait. I excused myself and hurried back into the kitchen.

  “I thought I’d warn you,” Mother said without preamble. “Jules might drop by this afternoon.”

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “Hello, yourself.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Your warning is too late.”

  “He’s been there?”

  “He is here.”

  “Well, why aren’t you entertaining him,” she nearly sputtered.

  “Because I had to answer the phone,” I shot back.

  “Well, call me after he leaves. I want to know all about it.”

  With a sigh, I hung up the phone and walked back into the living room.

  Jules was standing at the fireplace. As I watched, his eyes swept over the bookcase and the mantel, much as Russ’s had done so recently. He seemed startled when he noticed me in the doorway. “That was quick.”

  “My mother,” I acknowledged. “She told me you might drop by.”

  I didn’t get the smile I expected. Instead, he glanced around again. “I mentioned to her that I might.”

  “Would you like to sit down?” I said, gesturing toward the couch.

  He seemed to hesitate before he took his seat, and Josie immediately sat beside him. Absently, his hand reached out to stroke her.

  “I’ve never seen her act that way with a stranger,” I said. “Not that I’ve had a lot of strangers here,” I added, probably too quickly.

  “I’ve always had dogs. They’re wonderful company.”

  “I know,” I said, then couldn’t think of another word to say. Brilliant conversationalist.

  He seemed distracted, and I was self-conscious. I think the change in the atmosphere was getting to me. I had begun to feel more at ease when I left to answer the phone. Now it was almost as if we were strangers.

  Jules’s eyes swept the room again, again took in the family photographs on the mantel. “Do your grandchildren live here in town?”

  “Yes. They live a few miles from here.”<
br />
  The silence fell again. Should I have mentioned that their parents lived there too? God, what was the matter with me?

  “Does all your family live near?”

  “Uh—not my son. He’s living in California. My daughter and her husband live close. Mother’s—oh, twenty minutes away. So not all of them are close.”

  “And your ex-husband?”

  His voice was perfectly even, but I still thought it an odd question. I managed not to frown. “Darren has a house in Decatur.”

  Jules nodded, looking around him again while he stroked Josie’s head. It seemed our conversation was again at a standstill.

  Finally, I realized I had to do something, but as I started to speak, he got to his feet, saying, “I don’t want to keep you. I should be going.”

  I followed him out, feeling only confusion.

  When we reached the front door, he said, “You have a lovely home—and a lovely family.” He gave me an odd smile. “Thanks for asking me in.” With a final pat for Josie, he walked out the door and was gone.

  I stood at the door watching as his car drove away. I don’t know how long I would have stood there if Josie hadn’t nudged me. I looked down into her liquid eyes. “I don’t have a clue, girl,” I said, shutting the door on the mystery.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  With only a few severe thunderstorms and a flooded creek or two, April gave way to May. Early roses, brilliantly colored and fragrant, replaced the glorious azaleas of early spring. The dogwood and peach trees dropped their pink and white petals like organic confetti on the city streets. The air now was dependably warm and humid, and cooling afternoon showers became the order of each day. Later in the summer, when crape myrtle and mimosa trees reigned, even the showers wouldn’t cool the long afternoons.

  I hadn’t heard from Greg—not that I’d expected to. I was still trying to pretend it didn’t bother me.

  I hadn’t heard from Russ again. Darren had brushed off my concerned phone call like a piece of sleeve lint, so I didn’t know if he was doing better or worse. I tried to pretend that didn’t hurt either.

  Jana was another issue. After the sympathy and understanding she had shown when she found out about her father, I had allowed myself to hope we might grow closer. On the contrary, she repulsed every effort I made to see or talk to her. My mother said it would pass in time. I wasn’t so sure. I had always been Jana’s scapegoat. The difference was that now she was shunning her father as well. Or maybe avoiding was a better description. At least, every time I forced her to exchange words with me and asked her if she’d talked to her father, she said no.