“Oh well, you know it takes a while to get used to a strange bed.”
“That mattress probably needs breaking in. I just bought it, you know.” Brian’s second bedroom had been used mostly as a catch-all until he heard from his parents that they were coming. In the past he had always put them in his room and slept on the couch. He decided it would be well worth taking the effort to furnish the second room rather than sleep folded up like an accordion for five days. Emily had been very helpful in assisting Brian make the guest room pleasant.
While these thoughts were passing through his mind, the phone rang.
“Speak of the devil,” he said when he heard her voice.
“Well, thanks a lot,” she said feigning annoyance. “Were you speaking of me?”
“No, I was just thinking about you.” Brian was looking at his parents as he spoke and recognized in their posture the attitude that people take when they are listening to every word you are saying, but they are pretending to be oblivious.
“So, I guess your parents arrived safely. Did they have a good trip?”
“Oh, yes. They’re looking forward to meeting you. What time do you want us tonight?” Between them, they had decided to get the big meeting over in a dinner at Emily’s apartment that night. That way, as Brian had put it, “They can concentrate on dissecting you, and we can all relax for the Sunday feast.”
“Whatever is best for you. What are you going to do with them all day?”
“We haven’t discussed it yet. Why don’t we aim at six thirty?”
“That will be fine. I know they’re probably sitting right there, so you don’t have to say anything back, but I love you, Brian.”
Brian had to laugh out loud at that. What an adorable prude she was! “I love you, sweetheart. See you later.”
After one of those maddening “well, whatever you want to do is fine with me” conversations, it was finally decided that they would go to a new exhibit of landscapes at the museum. Mrs. McClellan said that would be nice and not too tiring. “That’s right, Mom, save your strength for later,” Brian thought with a smile. “It takes a lot of energy to conduct an interrogation in your style.”
Brian arranged the drive to put them just a little late in arriving at Emily’s that evening. He figured if his mother had known how long it really took to get there, she would have hurried them along and had them get there early. One manifestation of her dictatorial bent in his childhood was that they always arrived everywhere early.
When she came to the door to greet them, even Brian, who was usually oblivious to what people were wearing, had to be impressed. Emily had on a gorgeous white pant suit with a fine golden thread that sort of danced through it. To him, she was simply stunning, and he scored the first point to her, as he stretched out his kiss of greeting a fraction of a second longer than usual. Emily blushed just slightly.
“Mom, Dad, this is Emily Stone. Emily, these are my parents.”
A fine round of how-do-you-do’s and pleased-to-meet-you’s were exchanged. Emily invited everyone to sit down and offered drinks. Brian played bartender, which was only fitting since he had earlier in the week stocked the bar. Emily normally didn’t keep anything alcoholic in the house, but was swayed by Brian’s argument that anything that could mellow them out would make an evening with his parents more tolerable. Emily had never said a word to Brian about the occasional beer she saw him drink, but he made it a point to stick to just the occasional one around her. He didn’t know for sure how Methodists from North Carolina felt about drinking. Tonight he had ginger ale.
“Well Miss Stone,” Dr. McClellan said, “Brian told us you were pretty, but that doesn’t do you justice.”
“Thank you, sir. Please, call me Emily.”
“This is very nice apartment, Emily,” Mrs. McClellan began. “Do you live here all alone?” After a perceptible pause, she added, “No roommate?”
“No, I’ve never had a roommate. I’d probably be impossible for anyone to live with. I treasure my quiet.”
“I don’t blame you,” Dr. McClellan said. “It’s hard to find any quiet here in the big city.”
Brian recognized the beginning of a speech to be delivered by the one man chamber of commerce for the state of Vermont. “Might as well get comfortable,” he thought.
After a few minutes of the splendors of the peaceful Vermont countryside, Emily excused herself to attend to the meal.
Brian quickly volunteered to help, but his mother wouldn’t hear of it.
“Oh, no, you stay here and take it easy. I’ll be glad to help Emily in the kitchen.”
Emily was glad that she had planned a meal that was largely prepared ahead of time. There were few traces of the enormous mess she had made when she did the bulk of the cooking. A dish of chicken in wine sauce and a rice casserole were cooking in the oven, she put the rolls which had been rising into the oven as well. A lovely tray of raw vegetables cut into pretty slices and garnished with radish roses was ready in the refrigerator. She slipped the fresh cut corn into the microwave for heating while Mrs. McClellan started a pot of coffee.
They shared the sort of safe small talk about different kinds of coffee and how men like it so strong that can be heard in kitchens everywhere. When everything was ready, Emily called them to the table, and waited until they were seated to announce, “I’ll ask the blessing.”
Brian had known this was coming. It was their compromise that when in the Emily’s house, they had grace, but in Brian’s house, they didn’t. It amused him to see his parents’ rather startled reaction.
“Father, thank you for this day and for all your care of us. We thank you also for this food. May it strengthen our bodies for your service, in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Brian was always appreciative of the fact that Emily spoke only to God in her prayers, and did not use them to communicate to Brian, as in “And Oh Lord, bless the lost among us and make them mindful of their need of You.” Prayers like that always seemed to Brian to be aimed lower than heaven. He didn’t doubt that in her private devotions she prayed for him to leave the ranks of the lost all the time, but he was grateful that she didn’t do it when he had to listen to it.
The food was all delicious, and his mother mercifully kept her comments about its relative nutritional value to herself. Doctor McClellan continued his lecture on the glories of Vermont, and Brian chimed in with a few remarks of his own. Emily had often wanted to ask why, if he was so fond of the place, Brian had never gone back there, but somehow that seemed like a sore spot, and she always shied away from it.
“Where are you from, Emily?” Mrs. McClellan asked.
“Raleigh, that’s about two hours east of here.”
“Oh, well, then, you’re a Southern girl.” Mrs. McClellan made this comment as if it explained something.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Are your parents still in Raleigh?”
“No, there both dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s so sad for someone as young as you.”
“Let me get you some more ice for your tea, Brian.” Emily said rather quickly.
He smiled as he replied, “No, thank you, sweetheart, I’ve had enough. Everything was just perfect.”
By that point everyone had finished and they decided to have dessert and coffee in the living room.
“Brian, will you help me carry things into the living room?” Emily asked, “The tray is a little heavy for me.”
Before he could answer, Mrs. McClellan chimed in, “Oh, I’d be glad to carry it.”
Brian, of course, recognized the familiar dynamic that was being played out. In his mother’s mind, he was not exactly an invalid, but not a person who should carry things either. Emily was unaware of any of this and so said, “Oh, it’s too heavy. Brian doesn’t mind, do you, dear?”
Looking rather directly at his mother, he answered distinctly, “No, I don’t.”
When they were alone in the kitchen together, Brian grabbed Emily and kissed her passionately
. “Later,” he whispered, “I’ll tell you what that was for.”
He managed to get the tray into the living room without embarrassing himself. The McClellans sat together on the sofa, with Brian seated comfortably in the arm chair and Emily pulling up a chair from the dining room.
“So, Emily, you and Brian have been seeing one another for quite a while now, haven’t you? How did you meet?” Mrs. McClellan asked. Brian had told her his version of their meeting, so of course she had to get the other side as well.
“I was in an accident in the snow last winter and my car ran into a tree, and Brian came along and rescued me.”
“Oh dear, were you badly hurt?”
“Well, just bumps and bruises mostly. Brian came to see me in the hospital, and I got better in no time.”
Brian found it very interesting that Emily recounted the events of that day the way she did, downplaying her injuries and not mentioning her temporary blindness at all. He made a mental note to ask her about her editing later.
Figuring that he’d sat out the conversation long enough, Brian said, “It was the only snow we had here through the whole winter. Did you get much up your way?”
Dr. McClellan answered and it set him off comparing this year to others. There were the great snowstorms of the past, and the different kinds of snow that come in different years. This year, the company was informed, was a wet snow year. Of course, that meant more accidents. Some years, all you get is that dry, blowing snow. Emily was thinking that a definite pattern was emerging. The mother only wants to ask personal questions and the father only wants to talk about impersonal things. They are like opposite sides of an equation.
Emily got up to clear away the dessert dishes and refill coffee cups. She was only out of the room for a couple of minutes, but apparently long enough for the subject to be changed.
“Emily, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Two of each.”
“Oh, that’s a nice, big family. I guess you like children.”
“I suppose they’re all right.” Emily’s lack of enthusiasm in her response was the first indication Brian had heard that even in her naiveté, Emily recognized the implications of his mother’s line of conversation. Certainly Brian was aware that his mother wanted to be a grandmother about like a bear wants to sleep in winter. It was instinct for her. But he was not going to let this subject develop. He had heard quite a bit during the course of the day about his high school classmates who not only had children, but several who already had grandchildren. Enough is enough.
“So, Dad, how’s the fishing been this year?”
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. It was interesting to Emily to see the way Brian dealt with his parents. It was obvious that his mother at times exasperated him, but it was equally obvious that he loved her, in fact his affection for her was touching. Although it was clear that his relationship with his father was strained, she could see that there was a genuine respect between them. If you had asked Emily if she had loved her parents, she would have said yes, and there would have been a level of truth in it. But if you had asked her if she had felt affection for them, had been able to smile at the things they said, had enjoyed their company, she would have said no. It touched her that Brian could do these things with his parents.
After seeing them to the door and kissing Brian good-night, she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow after church.” He knew that there would be some raised eyebrows over that on his mother’s part at least. But it was his father who got the first word in when they were in the car on the way home.
“Emily is a very lovely girl, Brian.”
“Yes, Dad, that she is. I’ve never known anyone quite like her.”
“She’s quite a bit younger than you, isn’t she, dear?” his mother asked.
“She’s thirty-two.”
“Has she been married before?” Mrs. McClellan conducted her interrogation in a voice that implied that she was just passing the time in idle curiosity.
“No.”
“Big church-goer, is she?”
“Every Sunday.”
There was a short silence in the car, so Brian smiled and said, “Anything else you want to know?”
“Now, Brian, I don’t mean to be nosy, but you’re our only son, and it’s obvious you care a great deal for this woman. Isn’t it to be expected that I would be curious?” His mother’s voice was somewhat defensive.
“Yes, it’s to be expected, and I don’t really mind. But you have to be careful with Emily. There’s been a lot of unhappiness in her life, and she’s sort of a fragile person.”
His mother looked thoughtful, and then said “You know, I think she’s been good for you, Brian. You seem more at ease than we’ve seen you in a long time.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
When Brian heard Emily’s car pull into the driveway the next afternoon, he went out to meet her, to try to snatch a minute or two alone. She was wearing another of the new outfits she had bought, a pale blue shift dress with a sailor type collar.
“You look gorgeous,” he said, and took her into a passionate embrace. After a minute, she broke away.
“What if she’s watching through the window?” she said.
“Let’s give her something to see,” was his response.
While they were standing there kissing, Paul arrived.
“You two always carry on like that in public?” he asked, grinning broadly.
Emily said her plea was temporary insanity, but that she expected it would be over by Tuesday when that great silver bird wended its way back to Vermont. “Gracious,” she said to the psychiatrist, “I thought you were nosy!”
When they went into the house together, Emily noticed first that Paul addressed Brian’s parents as Stuart and Louise, which surprised her, and that they seemed sort of cool toward him, which she had been warned about. “I wonder what all that is really about?” she thought.
They went in and began the preparations for the feast. They had done this so often they were like a well-oiled machine. Brian had the dessert already prepared. Emily was in charge of salad. Paul and Brian collaborated on the main course, this week a seafood dish. Mrs. McClellan tried to help but they all were so efficient, there was nothing for her and her husband to do but sit back and enjoy the show. There were lengthy discussions about garlic—one clove or two—how fresh this fish was likely to be, would the roma tomatoes be better than the cherry ones, and other matters of great importance.
The food was a great success. Over dinner the conversation centered around the exhibit of landscapes the McClellans had gone to see the day before. Mrs. McClellan had been an art appreciation major in college, “back in the dark ages” as she put it, and was quite knowledgeable. Emily found much of what she said very interesting. She always wished she knew more about art because it seemed to speak to Brian the way that music did to her. She went to showings and exhibits with him and made appreciative noises, but they both knew she didn’t see as much in it as did he.
After dinner they retired outside to sit on the deck. It was the kind of September afternoon that gives autumn people like Brian hope that their time is coming. It wasn’t the actual temperature so much as something about the wind. Mrs. McClellan even went in for a sweater. Emily remembered as a child that feeling of expectancy that was in the air on such days. She always understood why it was that change is described in conjunction with wind. In youthful naiveté, she hoped that the winds of change would blow a better life her way. “And now my life is better,” she thought, “but still I have that same feeling that something is coming.”
Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, but after a while, Mrs. McClellan spoke. “Stuart, let’s go for a walk. I feel like stretching my legs, and if you don’t walk off that fine dinner, you’ll be dozing.”
After they were safely out of earshot, Paul asked with his usual lack of tact, “So, are we having fun yet?”
Brian smiled and said, “Actually, I t
hink it’s going pretty well. My father hasn’t asked for details about my current financial standing and my mother hasn’t driven Emily away. Yet.”
“Oh, you two are silly,” Emily said, “I think they’re very nice. Your mother is a little inquisitive and your father likes to talk about the weather a lot, but I think they’re sweet. They’re certainly very fond of their boy.”
“The only problem is that their boy is forty-six years old. Anyway, I think Emily is a big hit,” Brian said.
“Have you had a chance to have a good talk with your father?” Paul asked. It seemed like a harmless enough remark to Emily, but it was obvious that it touched some sort of nerve in Brian.
“I don’t have any great need to have a good talk with my father, and I’m sure he feels the same way.” There was no mistaking the steel in his voice. In Emily’s mind Brian had certain lines that he didn’t like crossed, and for some reason, Paul’s question had been a definite step over the line.
The two men looked at one another in stony silence, and Emily knew that there was more being said in those looks than a lot of words could say. She had seen them pass knowing glances back and forth to one another before, but that was something she expected in two friends who were so close and had known one another so long. This was different. Paul’s eyes seemed determined and Brian’s seemed angry. It struck her as strange in the context of what they were talking about. Brian and Paul spoke volumes without ever saying a word, and Brian’s father spouted words like a volcano spouts lava, yet said absolutely nothing.
“Sounds like you guys need to talk, so I’m going to start on the dishes,” she said.
She didn’t hear any raised voices, but with Brian, she knew, that didn’t indicate much. She couldn’t remember him ever raising his voice. The angrier he got, the less it showed. She didn’t know what Paul was like when he got mad. He said he had an awful temper, but she hadn’t seen it. She wondered what Brian’s father had to do with this apparent conflict. After a time, the McClellans were back and the party broke up. Paul and Brian seemed fine toward one another now. When, as was her custom, she kissed Paul’s cheek and told him to have a good week if she didn’t see him before next Sunday, he was his usual cheery self. She took herself off after agreeing to meet the McClellans for dinner at a restaurant downtown on Monday evening.
Blackberry Winter Page 9