Solemnly Swear

by Nancy Moser

  Had God blessed her diligent efforts? Nope. God had added to her list of problems by making Nelly’s hip problem worse, causing her pain, and making her limp.

  Karla prayed about it and urged Deidre to pray too.

  Deidre found it far more advantageous to take action.

  Enter Dr. Sigmund T. Kelly.

  At first Deidre had only targeted Sig with the intent of getting Nelly accepted as one of Sig’s freebie surgeries. Poor widow and her poor crippled child.

  But when Sig had shown interest beyond that of a surgeon, and showed interest in Deidre as a woman, Deidre adjusted her strategy. She would have been stupid not to. Why settle for Cinderella’s ball when the handsome prince was offering life at the castle?

  Deidre tucked the afghan around a foot that had gotten free of its warmth. Once again settled in, she let her eyes scan the study. It was more than an office; it was a library, a den, a sanctum, a cozy chamber with the top-of-the-line accoutrements of solid wood, leather, and brass. Don would have felt uneasy in such a room and would have lingered on its fringe like a visitor in a museum.

  But Sig owned this space with every movement, breath, and breadth of being. If Don had been a rough-hewn boulder, Sig was highly polished granite, pretentious in its very presence. Where Don was solid in stature, Sig was lean with a model’s build and grooming. Even while lounging around the house Sig gave the impression that the presence of a camera wouldn’t faze him. He was always on, ready for public consumption.

  Not that there was anything wrong with that. It was part of his job. The foundation needed funding, and Sig’s persona and place in society were essential to making things work.

  Actually, both men shared a strong sense of compassion. Although Don’s sphere of influence had been small and Sig’s large, both men possessed a giving steadiness of character.

  And faith?

  Faith had been huge to Don. Giving back was as necessary as breathing. Being in the choir, serving as a deacon and then an elder were positions assumed, a part of being God’s faithful servant. Same with Karla. At first Deidre got involved for their sakes, and Nelly thrived under the loving dome of the church. But eventually she’d felt her own faith grow and participated of her own accord. By allowing the family of the faithful to become a part of her life Deidre experienced genuine love and true fellowship. She’d let it envelop her in a gentle, constant embrace.

  Now, the Kelly family also went to church. But the faith behind the act was far less intense and far more social.

  Not that Deidre minded. After her struggle with God, she was ready to step back into faith’s shadows.

  “Deidre?”

  She looked to the door of the study, where Sig stood in his flannel pajama bottoms and T-shirt. “Hi,” she said.

  “What are you doing in my study?”

  This was the first time he’d caught her here. She quickly sat upright and gathered the afghan. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out.”

  “No, no.” His hands made a sit-back-down motion. She expected him to take a seat behind his desk, but instead he moved to the ottoman. “Neither one of us are able to sleep. Are you okay?”

  Deidre was going to say, “Sure” but found she didn’t have strength for the farce. “Not really.”

  He adjusted the afghan around her legs. “Of course you’re not,” he said. “I woke up and found you gone and I realized what I’m putting you through. Putting Nelly and Karla through too. I’ve been consumed with what needs to happen.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s awful business, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “Do you think it will turn out all right?”

  His uncertainty shocked her. Sig was never uncertain.

  “Will it?”

  “I…I hope so.”

  “If I could turn back time, I would, you know.” His voice was incredibly weary. “One night. One impulsive act.” He shook his head. “The if-onlys are killing me.”

  “Me too.”

  He put a hand on her knee. “If there was any other way you know I’d choose it.”

  “I know.”

  He left the ottoman and sat beside her on the love seat, at the end where her head had been lying. “Here,” he said, “lean on me.”

  Deidre couldn’t remember the last time they’d snuggled or had even thought about snuggling, but once her head found the crook of his arm, and her ear lay against his chest and heard his heart, she felt herself relax.

  A moment of calm before a storm?

  She hoped not. But for the moment, she’d take what she could get.

  ***

  You’d think I was waiting to get a nod from Broadway.

  Abigail forced herself to stop pacing. She usually slept until nine or ten on Saturdays, but this morning she’d been up with the dawn. As if they’d call this early?

  To distract herself she’d decided to clean her kitchen cupboards. Did she really need three bottles of soy sauce or twenty and one-half Tupperware containers?

  When she heard a knock on her door, her heart jumped and it took her a moment to realize the director, Tony Novotny, would not be sending a messenger with the news. It was not fame calling.

  It was Hayley. She burst into the room. “I got a part. Not Annie, but I’m one of the orphans!”

  She heard already? Does this mean I haven’t got a part? Abigail tucked her disappointment away and hugged the girl. “Congratulations! I knew you’d get it.”

  Hayley took possession of the room with expansive arms. “I didn’t know it. I mean, I hoped, but with Kathy Button trying out I was never sure.”

  “Did Ms. Button get a part?”

  “I don’t know. The assistant director just said I got a part as one of the orphan girls.” She stopped all movement. “Didn’t you get a call?”

  Abigail fluffed a tasseled pillow. “No.”

  “But you have to! You played Miss Hannigan before. You need to play her again. And you’re famous! You’d bring tons and tons of people to the show.”

  That’s what I thought. She stopped fluffing the pillow, punched it, then threw it back on the couch. Act, Abigail. You’re a big girl. Act happy. When she turned around to face Hayley she was in character. “We should celebrate. How about we go out for an early lunch?”

  Hayley shook her head. “Mom and Dad are having a celebration for me. That’s one reason I came up here, to invite you down at one o’clock for lunch and cake. Mom’s making it right now.”

  Abigail did not feel like celebrating. She wanted to wallow in despair, pout with passion, get thoroughly mad, and have a proper tantrum.

  The phone rang. They exchanged a look.

  “It’s them!” Hayley whispered.

  “No, it’s not. Other people call me, you know.” But very few at ten on a Saturday morning. She picked up the phone.

  “Ms. Buchanan, this is Tony Novotny, the director at the Hillside Community Theatre.”

  “Yes, Mr. Novotny.” I’ve been waiting for your call.

  “I wanted to call you personally to ask if you would be willing to play the part of Miss Hannigan.”

  Ha! Abigail nodded to Hayley and the girl yelped and clapped. To Novotny she said, “I would be happy to play the part.”

  The director gave her details about the first read through—which was the next afternoon at one. She hung up and immediately raised a hand for a high five with Hayley.

  “This is going to be so fun!” Hayley said. She hurried toward the door. “I have to tell Mom to put your name on the cake too! Now you have to come to the party.”

  Abigail never missed a got-a-part celebration.

  ***

  Abigail was stuffed beyond comfortable, which would mean Pepto-Bismol and a nap once she got home.

  “Would you like another piece of cake?” Hayley’s mother asked.

  “No, no,” Abigail said. “I’d burst.”

  “More ice cream!” Hayley’s little brother, Joey, held up his plate.

  Clive, his fath
er, flashed him a look. “What do you say?”

  “Please?”

  The mother, Delia, spooned another scoop onto his plate. “I don’t know where he puts it.”

  “Kids have hollow legs,” Abigail said. She put her hands on her midsection. “As we get older, our legs get filled up and we can’t eat as much without it spreading outwards.”

  Joey stopped the spoon’s journey to his mouth. “Really?”

  Hayley whacked his shoulder. “No, silly. She’s kidding.” She looked at Abigail. “Aren’t you?”

  Abigail looked at Hayley, incredulous. She hadn’t thought kids were that gulli—

  Hayley grinned. “Gotcha.”

  “My, my. You are a good actress.”

  Hayley bobbed her head and licked frosting from her finger with a loud thwop. “Thank you.” She hopped to her feet. “Let’s sing something for Mom and Dad.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like ‘Tomorrow’ from the show.”

  The family clapped. “Sing for your supper!”

  How could they refuse?

  ***

  Taking Nelly shopping was done on a whim, but was much needed and appreciated. With jury duty Deidre had been gone all week, and even when she’d been home she’d been preoccupied. And with Sig acting stressed and—using his own word—desperate, Deidre knew that grabbing on to a bit of normalcy was a worthy goal.

  Unfortunately normal wasn’t in the offing.

  On the way to the mall Nelly asked, “What’s going on with you and Dad? Why are you acting so weird?”

  “No one’s acting weird.”

  “Yes, you are. Both of you.”

  Deidre felt like turning around, driving home. Maybe this one-on-one time wasn’t a good idea. “We’re just a little stressed, that’s all. Dad’s busy and the trial has me gone when I’d rather be home.”

  Nelly shook her head, not finished. “Even when you’re both home you’ve got your heads together, whispering.”

  “It’s nothing you should concern yourself with, sweetie,” Deidre said. “It’s just the trial. It’s put a lot of strain on me and—”

  Nelly hit the dash with her hand. “It’s not the trial! You’ve been acting different for a long time. Months and months. Like you’re worried about stuff. You’re constantly giving each other looks, like you have this big secret that nobody else knows.”

  An understatement.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Nelly asked. “I want to know.”

  But you can’t ever know.

  Deidre summoned a smile and a lie. “I assure you nothing is wrong. Nothing that an outing with my best daughter won’t fix.”

  “Only daughter.”

  “Which means I’m prepared to lavish all my attention and credit cards upon you.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  Although Deidre’s stomach tightened she held on to the smile. “Is it working?”

  “We’ll see,” Nelly said.

  ***

  “Will this be all?” the clerk asked.

  Deidre opened her wallet and laughed. “I think it’s enough. Don’t you, Nelly?”

  Nelly was beaming. “I really like the jean skirt.”

  The clerk folded it. “It’s very cute. Especially with the pink top.”

  Suddenly, Deidre noticed the clerk’s name badge: Audrey.

  Audrey?

  Sig’s mistress? How many Audreys were there in Branson? Twenty-something Audreys?

  “Mom, you just dropped a fifty-dollar bill.” Nelly retrieved it from under the checkout counter.

  Audrey smiled. “Throwing money around?”

  Ha-ha. While Audrey finished checking them out, Deidre studied her. She had blonde longish hair, a pretty smile, and Deidre was surprised her build was athletic. She assumed Sig would choose a more buxom type. Maybe she wasn’t the right Audrey.

  But then, when the clerk excused herself to go get some sacks from the back room, Deidre noticed she had a pronounced limp.

  It figured. Sig wouldn’t be turned off by her infirmity. Just the opposite. And as such she was probably so grateful for his attention that she went gaga over him, making him feel like an Adonis.

  “That will be $185.34,” Audrey said.

  Deidre handed over her credit card. Audrey glanced at it and did a double take. “Deidre Kelly? You’re Sig’s wife?”

  Bingo. Just the way she said “Sig” oozed with familiarity. And for Audrey to be so peppy about it and acknowledge their relationship, right there in front of—

  “And you must be Nelly. Hi, I’m—”

  Deidre snatched the credit card from Audrey’s hand, grabbed Nelly’s arm, and pulled her toward the exit. “We have to go.”

  “Mom? What are you doing?”

  “Don’t you want the clothes, Mrs. Kelly?”

  Deidre kept walking, finding it difficult to fight against Nelly’s contradictory pull.

  Once out of the store after she got Nelly one store away, Deidre let go of her arm. People were looking. People would think she was abusing her daughter.

  “Why did you do that?” Nelly yelled.

  “Shh!” Deidre said, nudging her to keep walking. “I’ll explain later.”

  “But I loved those clothes. We just spent an hour picking them out.”

  “We’ll get you other clothes.”

  “I don’t want other clothes. I want those.”

  Deidre pulled her to a stop. “I can’t buy those clothes in that store, from that woman.”

  “Why not? She was nice. She knows Dad.”

  Deidre noticed they were standing in front of another clothing chain Nelly would like. “Let’s go in here. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

  “It’s more expensive in here.”

  Deidre walked inside. At this particular moment, money had no meaning.

  ***

  Appeasing her daughter had cost Deidre an additional $210.34, a price she willingly paid.

  Not that she didn’t have regrets. If she’d been a more mature human being she would have simply done the chitchat thing, paid the bill, and walked out with one happy daughter in tow. Not made a scene that raised all sorts of questions in Nelly’s mind. Plus, she would have saved herself $210.34.

  Yet maturity was highly overrated. Didn’t she deserve a hissy fit once in a while? Did she always have to play the part of the perfect socialite wife? What she should have done was slapped Audrey in the face and yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, “Stay away from my husband, you floozy!”

  Not that she would ever use the term floozy in a sentence, even if it was appropriate.

  Luckily, as soon as Deidre and Nelly got home, Nelly invited a friend over to see her stash. Which left Deidre pacing the floor, wondering where Sig had gone off to. The good thing about seeing Audrey in the flesh was that it pushed Deidre into facing reality. She and Sig hadn’t discussed her since the night of their big argument after the awards banquet when Deidre had first heard Audrey’s name as a point of gossip in the restroom. All he’d said then was, “I can’t go into it, Deidre.”

  Won ‘t go into it was more like it.

  And then other things had taken precedence and Audrey had been a bad dream compared to a full-blown nightmare. Yet Deidre had kept her eyes open to any evidence of sexual dalliances on Sig’s part. If he was continuing the affair—or having others—he was very discreet.

  But no more. Discreet or not, this had to stop. They had enough pressure in their lives. Deidre wanted everything cleared up, fixed, and put to bed.

  No pun intended.

  Deidre wandered through the first floor of the house, her body as unsettled as her mind. She played through what she would say to Sig as soon as he got home. She needed to be done with this or die from anger.

  And fear.

  And guilt.

  And exhaustion.

  Deidre was startled when she and Karla nearly collided at the top of the stairs leading to Karla’s apartment. “Whoa,
woman!” Karla said. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  Deidre backed away. “Sony. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “And where are you going? It sounded like you were walking a marathon up here.”

  “I’m waiting for Sig.”

  “It looks more like you’re stalking Sig.” Karla pointed at Deidre’s face. “There is a hunter-waiting-for-the-hunted look in your eye.”

  Deidre forced her hands to unclench. “I have to talk to him about something.”

  “Talk? Or pounce on him with claws bared?”

  The phone rang, sounding like the bell in a fighter’s ring, calling an end to a round—or the beginning of one? Deidre answered it. It was Sig.

  “I need you to meet me.”

  “I need to talk to you, Sig. I—”

  “We will talk. Do you have a pen? Write down this address.”

  “Why should 1?”

  “Deidre. Please. Just come to 384 Mockingbird. You know the area?”

  “Maybe. Probably. But why?”

  “Just come. Now. It’s important.”

  He hung up, preventing her from arguing the point that she was the one who wanted to talk with him, and she wasn’t in the mood to give in to one of his whims and go where he wanted her to go.

  “What does he want?” Karla asked.

  “He wants me to drop what I’m doing and meet him.”

  “Go on then, so it will stop your pacing.”

  “I hate that he snaps his fingers and I jump.”

  “You wanted to talk to him, yes?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then go talk to the man. The tension around this house is so thick I could tie a string around it and send it through the mail, which sounds tempting if only I had some string.”

  Deidre wasn’t in the mood for one of her witty analogies. “We have a lot on our minds, that’s all.”

  Karla got Deidre’s coat out of the closet and held it open for her. “Then let those minds meet so things can get back to normal.”

  Deidre put her arms in the sleeves. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  Karla adjusted the coat into place and hugged her from behind. “Of course it is, Dee-Dee. You know better than that.” She whispered in her ear. “Remember what Jesus said. ‘I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.’”