“You will?”
She nodded. “I should be home early, like you said, though.” He saw her already having second thoughts.
“Okay!” And he kissed her quickly before she could change her mind, then drove away whistling and feeling as spirited as a teenager.
Quite a few people went driving up and down Church Street to see Winston Valentine’s flags that were causing so much fuss. A number of people stopped to take pictures. Kaye Upchurch was almost run over when she stood in the street to get a good shot.
Flags began appearing all over town. Some flew the Stars and Stripes and some the Stars and Bars, some flew both, and after Neville stuck the Oklahoma flag in his yard, saying, “That’s the only damn flag that counts as far as I’m concerned,” a lot of people followed suit.
Blaine’s Drugstore put out a Rexall flag, and Grace Florist put out one with the FTD emblem on it, and Dixie Love produced a flag with a great big red heart on it that she fastened to the eave of the Cut and Curl. The Valentine Voice came out in an editorial and said they would hang both the American and Confederate flags, but in the correct order, the U.S.A. flag on top. Saying he was really siding with Winston, but thought he had to be patriotic, Jaydee Mayhall hung both the Confederate flag and the American flag, one on either side of the door to his law office. At the Texaco, Norm Stidham had Larry Joe and Randy got up on the roof and stuck flags all along the front of the portico—a Texaco flag, the American flag, the Confederate flag, the Oklahoma flag, and a flag bearing the Stidham coat of arms.
The mayor, Walter Upchurch, got a flag made with the city seal on it and had it hung off the city hall building, then went around asking people if they thought it was a good idea to begin presenting their town as the flag town of the U.S.A. “It’s a darn sight more personable than a digital thermometer.”
Early Wednesday morning a crew showed up at Northrupt’s house to put in a flagpole. Winston and Vella saw it all from her side yard, where they were enjoying coffee. Vella, to Winston’s surprise, whipped a pair of binoculars out of her apron pocket. “The van says T&S Flagpoles,” she said and handed him the binoculars.
Winston took a look through the binoculars and said, “Why, those are the two guys from Goode Plumbing who put in my flagpole.” Another minute and he said, “Let’s go down and have a close-up look.”
Northrupt appeared to ignore them, so Winston followed suit and went to talking to the workmen, finding out that the flagpole was only going to be fifteen feet in the air.
“I want people to see my flag,” Northrupt said, finally jumping into the conversation. “People have to crane their necks up to see yours, but mine’s gonna be right here near the road, where people can see at first glance.”
“You know, Mr. Valentine,” one of the workers said to him when they stood to the side, “you really started something with this flagpole business. We’ve been called all over town, so we thought we might as well leave the plumbing for a bit and ride this wave of opportunity. We can always go back to stopped-up sewer lines.”
About that time Minnie Oakes came driving by and showed them all the picture of Winston’s flags that was running in the Lawton newspaper that day.
Thirty-Five
“I’m going out with Mason tonight to the Little Opry,” Charlene said at breakfast.
Three pairs of eyes looked her over. Larry Joe’s eyes grinned at her, Danny J.’s skittered away, and Jojo’s stared levelly at her.
“Larry Joe, could you stay home with your brother and sister?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“I ain’t no kid,” Danny J. said. “I don’t need no baby-sitter.”
“No, you don’t. You need English lessons.”
Danny J. made a bland face, then he sort of grinned. A grin that said he might be hesitant, but he thought it was all okay.
Charlene lifted her coffee cup and thought for a minute. “Look, it’s me that needs reassuring. I know you don’t need a sitter, and Jojo really doesn’t, either. But she is too young to be left in case an emergency should happen. I couldn’t enjoy myself if I was worryin’ about you and Jojo.”
“Then don’t go,” Danny J. said, again with that grin.
“Aw, I’ll take you both up to Lawton for a movie,” Larry Joe told his brother and sister. “Maybe I’ll even let you drive, kid.” He punched Danny J. lightly as he rose.
“Larry Joe?” Charlene said, alarmed. Her eldest simply gave her his warmest grin and kissed her cheek as he left.
Danny J. got up and quickly followed his brother, while Charlene called after them, “Don’t you let him drive, Larry Joe.”
Jojo said, “It’s okay, Mama. Larry Joe has taken him out on the dirt roads and let him drive a bunch of times. He does just fine.” She calmly jellied her toast and took a bite.
“How do you know?” Charlene wanted to know. “Have you been with them?”
Jojo realized she had let more out of the bag than she’d wished. “Only once. He did good, too.” She put down her toast and went to get her schoolbooks.
Charlene sighed. Did a mother have any control, or was it all illusion?
Dixie squeezed in time to do Charlene’s hair, and Oralee gave her a facial and an eyebrow waxing. Charlene did her own nails in between customers, painting them with Autumn Passion, all the while having thoughts of a passionate nature.
She could not go to bed with Mason MacCoy, she told herself firmly. For one thing, there would not be time; she had said she would be home by eleven.
There were a lot of hours before eleven, she thought.
She had children to think of. What was hidden eventually came to light, especially in a small town. Larry Joe was old enough to understand about the nature of things between an adult man and woman, but Danny J. and Jojo were not. All they would see was that their mother had been with a man who was not her husband or their father. No telling what this would lead them to.
Yet she was a woman of flesh and blood. She had needs, just as her children did.
“What are you wearin’ tonight?” Oralee wanted to know, sitting down and propping up her feet during a lull in customers.
“I don’t know. I’d like to wear my floral sundress that shows what I should have and hides what I shouldn’t have, but it really is for summer.”
“It gets warm in the Opry with all the dancing,” Dixie said, passing them with an armload of fresh towels. “You could wear something over the dress and then be able to take it off.”
Later, Dixie ran home and brought back a little white cardigan that would go perfectly with Charlene’s dress.
Mason telephoned at noon in an overwhelming moment of needing contact with her. “I’m goin’ to get a haircut for tonight,” he told her, feeling silly. “Just thought you’d like to know you’d be goin’ out with a properly groomed man tonight.” He could have kicked himself. Why couldn’t he say suave things?
She laughed, though, and his heart expanded. “I got my hair done today, so I guess you’ll be going with a properly groomed woman.”
Mason, sufficiently boosted, said, “I’ll be going with a beautiful woman. I’ll pick you up at six. We can get a hamburger before the Opry.”
“You know how to sweep a girl off her feet.” Her voice was decidedly sensual, causing his mind to run rampant and his heartbeat to pick up tempo.
“You don’t know anything yet,” he told her. He hung up, then went to whistling as he picked up the stack of invoices waiting for him, until Iris, coming out of Adam’s office, said, “My gosh, you sound like a man in love.”
She regarded him with wide eyes, and he said, “Yep,” and left her standing with her curiosity, while he walked away, his mind filled with lusty thoughts of the woman he loved.
Winston was sitting on the porch smoking one of his daily allowed cigarettes when a dark green Buick pulled up in his driveway. Two women got out and came up to the porch. They were of the same size and shape, one in a brown sport coat and skirt and the other in bla
ck. The woman in black looked long at his flags flying, and when she turned her gaze to him, she looked at the cigarette clamped between his fingers with a deep frown, while the woman in brown asked, “Are you Mr. Winston Valentine?”
“I’m him, if that’s who you’re lookin’ for.”
The woman smiled a thin smile and nodded. “Yes, we are. We’d like to come in and talk to you a bit, if you don’t mind.”
There was something about the two women that caused him to sit up and look them over closer, just as the woman added, “We’re from the State Department of Human Services, and we’d like to visit with you about your situation here.”
The woman in black was looking up at his flags again, and then she looked at him.
Winston said, “I don’t think I have a situation.”
“You do have a…” the woman checked a notebook from her purse “…Ruthanne Bell living here in your care, don’t you?”
“Yes, if it’s any business of yours.” He stabbed out his cigarette in the flowerpot filled with sand.
“It is our business, Mr. Valentine. We’d like to visit with you and Mrs. Bell for a bit.”
Winston felt a niggle of fear. “It is Miss Bell, and she has been layin’ down for a nap, like she does whenever we get back from lunch down at the Senior Center.” He rose then, thinking he had best put forward a good foot. “We can see if she’s gotten up yet.”
As he led them inside, it jumped into his mind that they might think he was some sort of pervert or molester. He’d made a few joking cracks about the women being after him, which Mildred and a few from down at the Senior Center were, but nothing beyond normal women finding a live man their own age who could actually walk and hear.
“Who made the complaint against me?” he asked.
“This is just routine checking, Mr. Valentine,” the woman in brown said.
Her eyes were running rapidly over everything. They stopped dead when they came to Mildred, who had risen from where she’d been watching her afternoon soap on television and eating jelly beans. Her lips were black; she liked the black jelly beans best.
Mildred was thrilled to greet the women, pressing her hands together and saying, “Oh, my golly, company!” as if she never had any, and proceeded to invite the women in for ice tea, saying that Winston would get it because she couldn’t, since she had to use a cane. When Winston explained who the women were and that they’d come to see Ruthanne, Mildred said, “Oh,” and seemed to fall dumb, which at any other time might have been a blessing but now left Winston annoyed at feeling deserted. He needed support.
There didn’t seem to be anything else for him to do but to go up and wake Ruthanne. These women were not about to leave until they had seen her.
The woman in brown startled him by saying, “I’ll go with you,” and followed him up the stairs.
As she obviously wanted to see everything, Winston pointed out the rooms. “That’s the bathroom for the ladies. I have my own. That’s Mildred’s room, and that’s mine, and that’s the guest room, and that is just a little sittin’ room. We usually have a cleaning lady once a week, but she went down to Mexico to see her family for a month.”
The door to Ruthanne’s room was open. She lay atop the spread, fully clothed, thank heaven, sleeping like an angel. She came awake when he touched her shoulder. “Hello, Winston. Is it morning?”
Winston went out on the porch with the two women, shutting the door behind them. “I would like to know who made a complaint against me,” he said, his anger having reached a high point.
The woman in brown looked at him a moment, then said, “We aren’t authorized to discuss any of our sources.” Apparently the woman in black had come as a second pair of eyes. She had yet to say a word.
“Well, you see Ruthanne is okay here. She doesn’t want to go anywhere else. She told you herself.”
“Mr. Valentine, I can tell you that I am satisfied that your relationship with Miss Bell is truly in a friendly manner. But you are an elderly man.” She paused, staring at him as if to make certain he comprehended. “Miss Bell needs more care than she can get here.”
“What more does she need? She is content here. I make certain she eats and has clean clothes and a good time, and we get her to her doctor appointments. Have you talked to him? He knows how she is, and he’s the one that has told us to keep her in familiar surroundings and her confusion will stay at a minimum.”
“We will be speaking with him,” the woman in brown said, then added, “I know you mean well, Mr. Valentine, but really, Miss Bell is a great responsibility.”
“I don’t find her a responsibility. I find her a friend. When she came here the past spring, after bein’ dumped on neighbors by her nephew, she would hardly talk and couldn’t remember what time of day it was. Maybe she still don’t chatter, but she smiles, and mostly she knows what house she’s in. This has become her home, and if you so-called experts come in and jerk her out of here, you’re goin’ to take from her what mind and peace she has left.”
“We sometimes have to do hard things for the best for all involved,” the woman said with irritating detachment, not even looking at him. “We’ll get in touch with you when we’ve made arrangements.”
“You can make arrangements until hell freezes over,” he said. “The only way you’ll take her out of here is over my dead body.”
The woman said something in response, but he didn’t hear her, because he went in the house and slammed the door.
He went into the living room for a minute, where he exchanged worried glances with Mildred but tried to control his anger. Ruthanne got upset if anyone around her got angry.
“Think I’ll go for a walk,” he said and headed for the stairs, to go to his room and put on his walking shoes. He had just put his hand on the newel post when a dizziness struck him. He felt himself sinking, and then blackness closed in.
It was Everett Northrupt who saw Mildred come running out of the house like only a chubby crazy woman with a cane can, screaming for help. He rushed over and gathered from Mildred’s ravings that it was Winston, and even as he went to find the man collapsed at the bottom of the steps, with Ruthanne patting him and telling him everything was going to be okay, Everett was commanding Doris, who had followed him, thank goodness, “Nine-one-one. Call 911!”
Winston appeared to be breathing, if shallowly, and his heart was beating, if weakly. “Well, buddy,” Everett said helplessly, while Ruthanne kept patting him.
The emergency squad came and took Winston off in a wail of sirens, and by then Doris holding both Ruthanne’s and Mildred’s hands, with Mildred the one seeming to come totally undone. Everett read Charlene’s number posted next to the phone and dialed.
Charlene was just out of a relaxing soaking bath and wrapped in a soft robe and beginning to paint her toenails, which she had neglected, when Jojo spoke in a tight voice through the bathroom door. “Mama, Mr. Northrupt’s on the phone, and he says he has to talk to you now.”
“Ohmygod, not again,” Charlene said, knowing it was her father and at the same time praying it wasn’t and for strength to endure.
Everett Northrupt’s clipped accent said, “It’s your daddy. They’ve already got him goin’ up to the hospital. He ain’t dead yet,” he thought to add firmly.
Thirty-Six
Charlene sat alone in the emergency waiting room. That she sat there in her sundress was something she would never forget. The dress had been lying out on the bed, and she had jerked it on as the first thing she saw. In the same manner, she had also stuffed her feet into her open-toed sandals, so now she stared down at three painted toenails and seven bare. It made her feel as if her eyes were out of focus.
It seemed as if her dress and her toenails revealed how askew she was inside and how her entire life seemed to go. Just when she thought she got a handle on it, she would find herself hitting a pitted road and be bounced all over.
Only an hour ago she had been anticipating dancing in Mason’s arms,
anticipating his chest brushing her breasts and his lips enticing passion on her bare neck in a hot embrace out back in the alleyway like lovers often did. She had been worried about letting herself get carried away and making love with him.
She had been worried for nothing, she thought with a sigh.
Lifting her head, she saw the small television in the corner flicker in black and white. It was Father Knows Best coming on. She looked for the remote to turn up the sound, but she couldn’t see it anywhere. A nurse passed the window to the hall, and Charlene watched her expectantly to see if she would come in the door, but the woman continued on.
The clock on the wall said six-twenty. She could almost hear it ticking, there alone in the room.
Larry Joe would explain to Mason. And here she was, missing out on the Little Opry again.
She was instantly ashamed of the thought. Oh, I really didn’t mean it like that, Lord. I am just so scared. How was she going to do it? How was she going to take care of her father and Mildred and Ruthanne and her children? What would happen to her now? How was she going to do it all?
“Charlene.”
She turned to see Mason coming through the door. She stared at him. He opened his arms, and she went to him and laid her head on his chest, which was bigger and stronger than she had ever realized.
“They think it’s a stroke,” she said, when she could speak. Getting hold of her good sense, she pushed away from him and grabbed a tissue from the box someone had thoughtfully set on the table and blew her nose. She did not intend to do something as silly as to cry in front of Mason. “They still don’t know a lot yet. It’s only been about an hour,” she added, to encourage herself.
“You’re cold. Have you had anything? Coffee, Coke?” he asked, looking her over.
She shook her head, and he went straight to the little coffeemaker and got her a cup, brought it back and sat close to her, holding her free hand. She gripped his hand, despite not wanting to need him.
Then suddenly there was Everett Northrupt. “Don’t worry. Doris is with Mildred and Ruthanne,” he said immediately. “She’s fixin’ them supper, and she’ll stay the night with them. I just thought I’d come up and sit with you a bit and see how Winston is doin’. I hear he isn’t dead yet.”
Driving Lessons Page 35