“It’s a damned good thing I did. Suppose Helen had tried to drive home?”
“I would’ve done just what you did, or put her in the guest room.” Anna began to stack the dishwasher. “What happened at the hospital?”
Caburn sighed. “The surgeon was royally upset that I had undone his ‘magnificent work’. He took great delight in redoing it with a whole lot less anesthetic.”
“Oh my goodness.”
“Goodness had nothing to do with it. I let out a few choice words. That embarrassed him, so I got a bit more anesthetic. Enough about me, why aren’t you in bed? It’s been a long day. You have to be worn out.”
“I had a nap, remember?”
He did remember and he also remembered who woke her up. She was either taking it in stride or burying it deep. She closed the dishwasher and began taking food out of the fridge, slicing tomatoes and sourdough bread, chopping fresh basil, and stirring it into mayonnaise. Caburn felt his stomach growl. It was past eleven. Coffee and cake would’ve taken care of his munchies, but the remainder of the cake had gone home with Clarence. “Are we eating?”
“Plain old toasted tomato sandwiches and coffee. I overindulged just a bit with the scotch. I’m afraid if I go to sleep with all that sloshing around inside of me, I might regret it in the morning. I have tons of things to do, and I’ll need a clear head.”
“—If the city isn’t shut down because of the ice storm.”
Anna nodded. “Government offices might close, schools close, but grocery stores don’t, dry cleaners don’t. The post office will be open. Banks will be open. And I really, really need to find out what’s going on with our—I mean—the household account.”
“If you get bad news at the bank, I’ll help, if you’ll let me.”
She paused plating their sandwiches. “That’s a nice offer. Thank you, but I’ll be fine. If the bills hadn’t been paid, I would’ve had late notices by this time of the month. It’s just we kept a sizable cushion in the account against emergencies. I still have half of the money from selling my mom’s house in Mission. I didn’t tell Kevin how much I got for the place. I was saving it as a surprise for when I needed to take a leave of absence from work, when I had—” a baby. She inhaled deeply. She wasn’t going there, not now. “Let’s eat in the dining room,” she said, putting everything onto a tray.
Caburn’s contribution was to carry in the coffee pot. Anna turned on the wall sconces, lit some candles and pushed them to the end of the table. “In case the electricity goes off,” she said.
Caburn thought it was romantic, but didn’t dare voice it. Anna had made him two sandwiches. He could’ve eaten three. “Anna, when is the last time you saw a movie?”
“Well, when I’m cooking dinner, I sometimes turn on the little TV in kitchen.”
“No. I’m talking about going out to a movie, having a giant box of popcorn, a humongous Coke, and some Milk Duds.”
Her eyes were huge. “I—it’s been years.”
“Okay. Put that on your to do list. Movie. What about ice skating? Bowling? Horse-back riding? Camping? Having lunch with your girlfriends?”
“Same answer.”
“What about a county fair? Cotton candy? Ferris Wheels? Or feeding the monkeys at the zoo?”
“None of the above since high school and college. I guess I’m a dull piece of work.” Her eyelids were beginning to droop.
“Yep, you’re dull as a mop handle, and I’m a dork.”
Her eyelids lifted. “You’re not a dork and you know it. Women probably fall all over you.” She looked away from the golden hair on his chest above the hospital tape.
“Oh, they do. I get felt up in elevators, chased down the halls at work. Some even let me peek down their blouses. Then there are the heavy breathing dates on Friday and Saturday nights.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“I see,” she said.
Probably right through me, Caburn thought, but he was happy to note the tiniest bit of disappointment in her voice.
Anna looked at him over the rim of her cup. “Has there ever been a Mrs Caburn?”
“Yep,” he said, letting it hang out there a few moments. She put her cup down, fidgeted with her napkin, wadded it up then tore it into tiny pieces. That’s my head, Caburn thought. I’d better end this. “My mother.”
Anna glared at him. “Your mother.”
“Yep. Of course, my brothers’ wives are all named Caburn, too.”
“Indeed.”
Caburn smiled inwardly. Indeed? Cobra venom! It was a lucky man whose woman got his humor, and could dish it back! He popped the last bit of sandwich into his mouth and washed it down with lukewarm coffee. “That was delicious. Thank you.”
Anna stood and blew out the candles. “I’m going to bed. Good night.”
A few minutes later Anna emerged from the bathroom in an ancient pair of flannel p.j.s. She passed through the dining room on her way to the living room with a pillow and comforter. Caburn was wiping down the table.
“Hey. Whoa, there. I thought you were going to bed.”
“I am,” she said and sailed on through to the sofa.
“What’s wrong with your bedroom? Didn’t Clarence clean it up?”
“Frank, I think you’re decent. You might even be something of a renaissance man, maybe even a little sexy looking—”
He held the dish cloth against his heart. “Music. Keep talking.”
“And that little trick you did with the mistletoe? I admit I felt a little tingly—”
“I’m a happy man.”
“On the other hand, you’re as clueless as a dead fish if you think I’m gonna sleep in that bed in my bedroom. That was my marriage bed. A farce bed, like a one-night-stand bed. Moreover, my husband has—had, another marriage bed—and...and...a baby bed, too.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “So here’s another thing to put on your fun list: call the Goodwill to pick it up A.S.A.P.”
“I stand fiercely chastised. Fiercely, I’m telling you. That bed has to go. Absolutely. No question. Is Clara’s old room off limits, too?” Clueless as a dead fish? Oh, that was begging it.
“Have you been in there? There are about a hundred pictures of the golden boy in there—on the dresser, on the chest of drawers, tucked in the mirror and hanging on the walls—she even uses one as a place holder in the Bible on the bedside table.”
“Oh. More bad juju.”
“Right.” Anna snapped off the living room lamps and settled herself on the sofa, covers up to her chin.
“Want me to put a match to the wood in the fireplace? Take the chill off this room?”
“If you want to.”
Caburn got the fire lit and sat in the armchair, content. His stomach was full, his eyes were on Anna’s face, and the rich crusty smell of burning fire logs just added to the ambiance. Her eyes were closed, firelight playing across her lovely features. When sleep overtook her, tension lost its hold and she was even more alluring.
“Are you going to sit there and watch me sleep all night?” she asked without opening her eyes.
‘No, no. I’m just resting my eyes a minute. How’d you know I was still in here?”
“You’re breathing.”
Well, I can’t stop that. “I was wondering something while I was staring into the fire.”
Exasperated, and wanting to get to sleep, Anna shoved the covers down and leaned up on her elbows. “What’re you wondering about?”
“What do you think about people living together?”
“Well, based on my most recent experiences, I don’t think it’s a good idea. People get on each other’s nerves, and then they go bonkers, or they become philanderers. I’m thinking now that everyone should be free to do what he or she wants. It’d make life easier, you know. Plus, there’s no arguing over the thermostat setting. Was there anything else you were wondering about.”
“Uh, no. That’s it.”
Anna lay down, turned her back on him and pulled the covers up ove
r her head.
Actually, he was wondering about something else. He was wondering about the kink in Nesmith’s personality that allowed him to behave in so cavalier a manner that he could destroy the lives of two women—three, if one counted the mother.
However, the only single thing that mattered to Caburn now was that he wouldn’t let Anna suffer any more. There had been enough of that. And he wasn’t kidding when he said this house was full of bad juju. He’d have to plan something, get Anna out of it for a while, or forever. As well, he’d make doubly sure that he did not get on her nerves. Moreover, he would never, ever touch a thermostat again. The decision made, he moved quietly to put the fire screen in place, make certain all of the doors were locked and the curtains drawn. He took a half of a pain pill, and finally, in the wee hours of the morning, fell into a sound sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Caburn woke to the smell of coffee and the radio turned low. He got through his morning ablutions as quickly as he could one-handed, pulled on jeans—thank you God for zippers; and managed to drag a Tee up his right arm and over his head.
It wasn’t Anna in the kitchen, but Lila Hammond. The elderly woman was ironing.
“Miss Lila, do you hire out?”
“Hell, no! I’m just doing Anna a favor. She needs a couple of blouses for the week until her dry cleaning gets done. Anyway, I owe her big time. She’s done many a favor for me over the years.”
Caburn poured himself coffee, added cream and leaned against the counter. “Miss Lila, could you fit in a favor for me?”
Lila snickered. “I ain’t ironing your underwear. You’ll have to find another way to impress your girlfriends.”
Geez. “I guess Anna’s been gossiping behind my back.”
“Not that girl. She’ll say it to your face first. She told me what happened yesterday. I missed all the good stuff sleeping off a whopper. But, it’s a shame. Kevin a bigamist. God Almighty—with a baby yet.”
“Yeah. That knocked her for a loop.” The radio was announcing school closings; government office closings; which streets and roads were closed or being salted. “Where is she, by the way?”
“Running errands. We put our extension cords together and melted the ice on her car with her hair dryer. Worked like a charm on the locks, too. Her to-do list is over there on her desk.”
Caburn had a peek. He noticed, of course, that Anna had neat handwriting. He would’ve been surprised if she hadn’t. Bank. Dry cleaners. Packing boxes. L.C.; He guessed that was Library of Congress. The Library would be open, of course, as would all the museums—The National Gallery, the Smithsonian, the White House, shopping malls—all the places tourists frequented. D.C. wouldn’t close those money buckets down even in the face of a nuclear disaster. Then the radio blurted out that only essential government workers would be staffing offices and read the list of bureaus. All non-essential government employees were ordered to stay home.
Lila was putting away the ironing board when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” she said. “Damned vicious telemarketers are having a field day. They know folks are home because of the storm… Detective Polanski. Homicide,” she barked into the receiver. A shriek came through the line. Lila made a face that looked like a wizened old capuchin monkey.
Caburn laughed. He’d have to remember that one.
Once the shrieking died down, Lila spoke. “No, no, no. No one was murdered. I thought you were a telemarketer.” She handed the phone to Caburn. “It’s Helen.”
“It was Helen,” said Albert Phipps. “Who am I talking to? What happened? All I heard was yelling.”
“It’s me, Albert.”
“Frank! Why the hell aren’t you here at work?”
“I’m non-essential personnel.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“It was on the radio.”
“There’s stuff happening as we speak. Get your ass in gear and get down here.”
“I’m taking a leave day.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Well, then, I’m taking a sick day.”
“You’re not sick.”
“I got stabbed in the back, remember?”
Caburn heard Phipps sucking on his pipe.
“That’s pushing it, damn it! All right, Just check in with us before three this afternoon. We’re leaving early. You got that?” Phipps didn’t wait for an answer. The phone slammed in Caburn’s ear.
“I guess I have the day off,” Caburn said.
“Have some fun, then, and drag Anna along. She’s had her nose to the grind since they’ve been living here—and now all of this crap with Kevin and Clara-Alice. It ain’t fair.”
“I’m working on it. But it’s kind of delicate. Miss Lila—about that favor. Could you put your nurse cap on and slice this tape off the front and back of my arm? I want to leave the tape on my back, to kind of keep the stitches in place. Not stitches—staples. The surgeon stapled it this go round. We’ll just let the tape rot off on my chest.”
Lila laughed. “Yeah. We used to jerk it off recalcitrant patients. You never want to piss off your nurse.”
When Lila finished cutting him loose, Caburn finished pulling on his Tee. “Man! That feels fine. You’re a good woman, Miss Lila.”
“I am. I was raised right, schooled right and married right. What about you?”
“Raised right and schooled right, I guess. Never been married, though.”
“Anna was raised right, too.”
“Um—are you going somewhere with this?”
“I guess I’m just being an old busybody. Well, I got to go. Clarence and JoJo are picking me up later. We’re going to the fire station to wrap Toys for Tots, and afterwards, we’re going over to the homeless shelter. We’re volunteering to serve Christmas dinner. They do it every year, but the director says he’s got to see me, put his stamp of approval on me.” She thrust her skinny arms into her old coat and pulled her hat down over her ears.
Caburn walked her to the back door.
“Careful,” he cautioned. “Don’t fall and break anything.”
Lila looked back at him. “Same to you.”
Caburn felt a rush of guilt. Lila wasn’t talking about slipping on the ice. What had he done? He hadn’t done anything. Thinking about it wasn’t doing anything.
He was hungry. He scouted the fridge and found nothing he could microwave. In the pantry he found a jar of peanut butter, and hanging on a plastic gadget were some bananas. He downed two toasted peanut butter and banana sandwiches with a quart of milk. He cleared the table, washed the knife and glass, found himself with nothing more to do. He was lonesome. This was a strange feeling because he never felt lonesome in his own apartment—there was always something to do.
There were sports magazines, the treadmill, ESPN football, pickup basketball at the park, his martial arts classes, and the local pub where he could get a double cheeseburger and an ice-cold Coors. Oh, and now there was the notebook, which he had not had time to plug in, much less learn how to use the damned thing.
He opened all the drapes. The sun was trying to shine. The icicles hanging on the eaves on the houses up and down the street were dripping.
And there were Helen’s tenants pulling up in front of Lila Hammond’s. He moved away from the windows, cleaned the fireplace and restacked fire logs. He pulled Anna’s blankets off the sofa and shook them. The air filled with her scent—a mixture of Chanel, Yardley Soap, and a citrus shampoo. Of course, he couldn’t name the scents, he just knew they were Anna’s. He heard the key turn in the lock and put a smile on his face.
The front door slammed, the kilim runner came flying through the air and knocked over a lamp, Anna’s purse sailed across the room and landed behind the sofa. She yanked off her overcoat as she marched through the living room, the dining room and into the hall and towards her bedroom, which still smelled faintly of mustard.
Caburn followed behind, but not too close. “Are you upset about something?” She was wearing jeans, a
sweater, and her hair in a ponytail. She filled the sweater out so nicely, he had a hard time looking away.
“No! Why should I be upset about anything going on in my life? Everything is just peachy, peachy, peachy.”
She yanked open the closet door and began hauling out Kevin’s clothes, shirts, slacks, suit jackets, tossing them over her head. Shoes flew. Lots of shoes, all heavy, filled with shoe trees, slamming against the opposite wall. Caburn dodged a couple, then backed to safety into the bedroom doorway. “That’s a pretty good throwing arm you have there.”
“Mind your own business!”
You are my business, babe. “Okay. Sure.”
The drawers were coming out of the chests now. Anna was making as fine a mess as had Clara-Alice without the mustard and honey—but with just as much fury.
Finally, Anna wound down. She leaned against the tall armoire, eyes closed. Her arms hung at her sides, and it was clear to Caburn that her mind had gone elsewhere, some place he was not invited. He waited.
~~~~
Standing in the midst of her dead husband’s shirts, pants, suits, shoes, and underwear, Anna was coming to the conclusion that her life was in its worst turmoil ever. And throwing Kevin’s things around had caused his scent to cloud the air she was breathing. It seemed impossible that only weeks ago this very same scent had caused her to need him, want him, long for him. And now—now the smell of him made her want to throw up. She felt Caburn’s eyes on her and looked at him. “Do you use Jean Patou?”
He hiked an eyebrow. “Who?”
“You know,” she said impatiently. “—Patou. Patou. Aftershave, deodorant, fragrance.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this, but if it’s important to you, I use Old Spice aftershave and Lifebuoy soap. My grandpa uses it, my dad uses it, and my brothers and I use it. Except when my sisters give us soap-on-a rope at Christmas—which to a man, we use on the dogs.” But he supposed Anna wasn’t interested in that. “Is it that pootoo stuff that’s making this room smell like a bordello?”
Anna exhaled. “Yes. Let’s go into the living room. The smell in here is making me nauseous. I’ll pack it up later.”
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