At the Corner of Love and Heartache

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  She looked across at him. He was a patient man, never rushing her to hurry up and speak.

  “I have saved, in the bank and investments, about one hundred thousand dollars. How about if we buy a house?” She was very good at investing.

  His eyes went round as saucers, and his mouth fell open.

  Then he began shaking his head and saying, “No…no, I can’t be lettin’ you buy our home. I…”

  She went to him, enjoying as always being able to look slightly upward into his eyes. “Darlin’, if I can bear with being eleven years older than you, I believe you can bear with using my money for a house.”

  And then he kissed her just as she wanted.

  Vella had gone, the children were in bed, and Tate was alone with Marilee at last. He dimmed the lights, put a George Strait CD into the stereo and turned the volume low, then pulled her into his arms. Feet sliding over the smooth oak floor in the wide area behind the couch, his thighs pushed on hers, his belly to her belly, her breasts against his chest. She laid her head on his shoulder and gave a pleasurable sigh as he caressed her back.

  He wanted her right then, and he knew she wanted him, and it felt good, the wanting to bond together. It was the specter of death that propelled them, he knew. It was death making them aware of how precious were their lives together.

  The question before them all evening had been of Stuart James. They could not disregard him by saying he was not their problem.

  “He’s Willie Lee’s father,” Marilee said.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “He was once my husband. He isn’t anymore…but he is someone to me.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  At last she believed that he was in full agreement, that he was going to stand there with her.

  “I’m asking so much of you, I know,” she said.

  “I am to be your husband. We’ll get through it together,” he said.

  And in their dancing, bodies and hearts touched and melded together. It was stimulating and heady. He swept her one way and then another, and he savored the motions, the scent of her, the feel of her skin that already belonged to him, and which he could at any moment, he knew, take for his own.

  Marilee raised her head and looked at him. “I don’t want this to change our plans. We’ve made our plans, everything perfect for us. It’s important, this time for us to anticipate our coming together as one. I don’t want to give it up. I want all we’ve planned, Tate. This time will never come again. We don’t want to let it pass by.”

  Even in the dimness, he saw the heat in her eyes and plain on her face.

  He kissed her neck and heard her sharp intake of breath.

  “We won’t let it,” he whispered into her ear, kissing her lobe and then down her neck, feeling her tremble against him.

  Then he kissed her, and she kissed him.

  “Oh, Tate.”

  She breathed the words against his neck. He held her tight against him, cherishing her more than he had ever cherished anything in his life.

  They danced for some time, necking as they did and not daring to sit down, until both were hot and forced to break apart. They giggled like teens. It was heady, like some sort of drug, Tate thought, calming himself as Marilee went to get them coffee.

  They sat long on the couch, talking about options for when they did find Stuart.

  “You know, Marilee, we can make all these plans, but Stuart may not want any of them.”

  She said she knew that, but he didn’t think she did.

  Willie Lee didn’t think his mother would hear him. She and Papa Tate had music playing in the living room. He tucked his pillows under his covers, then got behind his blinds and got the window open without Corrine hearing.

  Munro hopped out, and Willie Lee positioned himself on the windowsill. He did not wear his cape, because he knew now that he could not fly. But he could jump, and it felt like flying.

  He put his hands out and jumped.

  He landed with a hard thump and went rolling on the damp, moist ground. Munro licked his face, and then Willie Lee was pushing to his feet and adjusting his glasses. He had not bothered with coat and shoes, and his feet felt really cold. It was very dark, but he could follow the wall of the house to the backyard, where he and Munro ran to where they could clearly see the stars.

  He loved this time, when he could simply be. It was okay if he could not fly. He didn’t have to. There were many other things he could learn to do.

  Tate felt it safe to sleep in an extra half hour on Saturday morning, yet he still got up anxious to head off the possibility of Marilee coming over to his house and finding all the remodeling going on.

  Finished shaving, he threw aside his towel, opened the bathroom door and saw his passage blocked by an enormous oak bedstead passing by. A man on the back end—one of Honey Moon’s three emissaries—said, “‘Mornin’.”

  He was followed by another emissary, who said, “Your mother let us in. She’s made prune muffins.” He held one up in his callused hand.

  It wasn’t yet seven o’clock in the morning. His mother had been out with Winston until the small hours of the morning—and now she was up and baking?

  Tate followed the men and what turned out to be the oak headboard of the bed Honey Moon had sent up from Dallas. The men propped it against the wall in the master bedroom. Tate went over to examine it.

  A sleigh bed! He loved a sleigh bed!

  “Like it?” asked the emissary who was in charge of the crew.

  “Yes…yes, I do,” Tate said, running a hand over the smooth rolled wood.

  “Honey knew you would.”

  Tate’s confidence that Honey Moon knew her stuff was rising. He glanced around at the walls. The dreary wallpaper was gone, replaced by something Honey Moon called texturing. Paint with sand thrown in it, Tate thought, but he liked the effect. The color was Sahara, so the head emissary had told him. It did give a warm glow. Intimate.

  He was quite pleasantly surprised, as he had been preparing himself for something on the order of purples and leopard prints from Honey Moon.

  Remembering then that he didn’t want Marilee happening over to see any of this, he hotfooted down the stairs, with the intent of getting over to the IGA and the mocha machine. Sweet bread aroma mixed with the faint odor of paint met him, leading him into the kitchen, where he just about tripped on a tarp still spread on the floor.

  There didn’t seem to be enough painting being done in the kitchen to justify a tarp, he thought. Not only was the crew he had hired slower than molasses in January, but they kept coming across rotted wooden places that had to be replaced. Tate regretted that he had not turned the kitchen job over to Honey Moon, as well, rather than Joe’s Paint Job crew. He had been misled by so reliable-sounding a name.

  “Good mornin’,” his mother said. She looked as fresh as if she had slept ten hours and had a leisurely bath.

  “You didn’t come in until almost two o’clock,” he said, not really knowing why he had to speak of it.

  “Winston and I had a grand time. And the band is booked.” She handed him a basket. “Here, take these to Marilee this mornin’. So many of those commercial bakery items are not good for anyone. And here’s your mocha, too.”

  Mocha, too?

  At his obviously amazed expression, his mother said, “I bought you and Marilee a new coffee machine. Does all this fancy stuff…see? You needed it for your new kitchen. I saw a toaster I really liked, too. They’re makin’ them like back in the fifties again, and they are so cute. I’m going to get it, and if Marilee doesn’t like it, I’ll keep it with me. I think I’m going to move in with Winston.”

  “Oh.”

  He watched her filling foam cups with the steaming brew.

  “You mean you’re goin’ to stay up here in Valentine?”

  “Yes. I want to be around my son and his family.”

  He digested that. “I’m glad, Mom.”

  They smiled at each other.

  Then h
e looked around. They had new appliances, but the kitchen where they were seemed more to be coming apart than together.

  “I’ll get these boys goin’ on this kitchen today,” his mother said, as if reading his mind. “I’m goin’ to ride them until they’d rather finish than deal with me. You take care of Marilee and finding Stuart.”

  She handed him the cups set in a small box.

  Finding Stuart.

  Tate thought of this problem on his way out the back door. He had a sense of wanting to yell at the world. He felt a little guilty about the part of the motive he had held to upstage Stuart. For one thing, the endeavor was both petty and fruitless, especially considering that Stuart was dying. If he was dying, and more guilt came on him because he had doubts.

  The point to all he was doing, though, was to please the woman he loved. Yes, by golly, that was the heart of his intentions, and those were good. Only good could come from a good motive. He wanted to give pleasure to Marilee and make all their lives easier in the bargain. Winners all the way around!

  He would do well to keep his focus on heading toward the wedding. He wasn’t letting anything stop it.

  Tate found Corrine in the kitchen, standing on a chair and preparing the coffeemaker. Her tiny toe-nails were red on her bare feet. Such a little fragile doll, she was. He wanted to protect her from all the life that lay ahead. A sense of futility swept him; then he bolstered himself and said brightly, “You’re up early, pumpkin. Is your aunt Marilee awake yet?”

  “She’s on the phone with my mama,” Corrine said, as she carefully measured the coffee into the basket.

  “Oh.” He watched her get down from the chair to go over to the sink to fill the glass pot with water. “I brought your aunt a cup of mocha, but she’ll want coffee, too. Would you like me to help you with that?” He indicated the pot of water that seemed a lot for her skinny arms and wrists.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” He backed off, emptied the foam cups of mocha his mother had provided into stoneware cups and fixed a plate of three muffins, telling Corrine that his mother had made them and to help herself.

  He put the cups and plate on a tray and carried it all into Marilee’s bedroom, where he found her sitting on the edge of the bed with the telephone pressed to her ear. She gave him a glance and a wave, but she was definitely distracted. Marilee always got distracted when talking to her sister.

  He set the tray on the table by the window, easing it onto the edge, then sat beside her and kissed the silky skin of her bare shoulder where her nightgown strap had slipped away. He was instantly aroused to the point of forgetting himself and began slipping his hand to her breasts.

  Marilee was so intent on speaking to her sister, who had alarmed her with the information that she was going out of town on Monday, to Buenos Aires with Louis for a week, that she pushed Tate’s caresses aside. She needed all her attention focused on the conversation at hand. Marilee decided that with Anita going out of the country, now was the imperative time to speak to her sister about the question of Corrine’s security.

  “Anita, we need to talk about Corrine’s medical insurance. There are things to consider.” She might have added: now that you’ve pretty much left your daughter, but she bit her tongue on that bit of factual criticism.

  “I’m not offered any insurance, Marilee,” Anita said. “I’m still only workin’ at Louis’s firm part-time.”

  “Honey…” She reached for Tate’s hand and hung on to him while she searched for as gentle a choice of words as possible. “Corrine needs health insurance. She isn’t my daughter, so I can’t put her on my policy.”

  “Corrine’s young. If she has to go to the doctor, I’ll send you some money. Louis has plenty, and he adored Corrine when he met her.”

  Louis had met Corrine once, the previous summer, when he and Anita had come up for a visit before moving off to New Orleans. Anita had not seen her daughter since, and the cards and calls were becoming less frequent. How did Marilee address all this? She felt as if she were walking through a minefield. What if she angered Anita? She could crush her sister with what she felt needed to be done.

  She said, “Corrine could get something serious that required hospitalization. I don’t know what all, Anita, but we have to look at the situation.” Deep breath. “We need to make me and Tate her legal guardians. If Tate and I adopt her, she can have full medical benefits and anything else she needs.”

  There, she had said it.

  The line hummed for long seconds. “You always wanted this, didn’t you, Marilee?” Anita began to cry. “You’ve always wanted to take my baby from me.”

  “Anita, that’s not how I mean it. I’m thinking of Corrine’s security. She needs health insurance, and she needs to be provided for if anything should happen to me…or to you. Do you want her only living relatives to be Mama and Carl? She’d end up with them, if something happened to me. Or the state could come in here and put her in a foster home.”

  “I’ll come get her,” Anita said after a moment. “Give me a few weeks, and I’ll come get her.”

  She had known this was coming. “Can you do that? Can you provide for her, with only a part-time job and no insurance?” Marilee toughened her heart. “I won’t let you take her, Anita, unless you can provide for her better than you have in the past.”

  Anita screamed into the phone, “You can’t do this! You can’t!” And then she began to sob.

  “Honey…honey, listen to me. I am not trying to hurt you. I love you. I don’t want to hurt you, but we need to do what is best for Corrine. You’ll always be her mother. I’m not taking that away. She knows who her mother is and always will.”

  Anita cried some more, and Marilee sat there squeezing Tate’s hand and wondering what else to say.

  Then Anita said, “I just can’t talk about this anymore right now. I’ll call you back later.”

  The line clicked dead.

  Twenty-Three

  Hallelujah! Shopping day…

  Destination: the biggest shopping mall in Oklahoma City. Marilee drove, stopping to pick up Charlotte, who came running out of her house like a young girl.

  Windows down! An oldies’ station playing on the radio! Happy hopes of shopping till they dropped!

  “I want to get somethin’ to get Winston’s blood pumping,” Franny said.

  Charlotte cast a look of alarm over the seat. “I imagine you are doin’ that already, Franny. You might kill him if you increase it.”

  “Yes, well…good way to go,” the older woman answered smartly.

  “You are joking, right Granny Franny?” Corrine asked, wanting to smile, but not quite certain.

  “Yes, dear. It is a truth that is so true it is funny. And I love you, darlin’.” Franny kissed Corrine, whose eyes showed both pleasure and uncertainty of someone who could say I love you so easily.

  They arrived at the turnoff for the mall, and then there it was before them: shopping Mecca. All in the car, small-town girls used to small-town stores, stared and gaped like hicks from the backwoods, all except Franny, who was never overly impressed by anything.

  There was a host of angels singing in the heavens, Marilee thought, gripping the steering wheel and having a sense of seeing something on the order of the great pyramids, the structure being sandy in color and standing brightly against the clear blue sky. And being Saturday, the traffic, which surrounded them on all sides, flowed toward the enormous structure like the flow of pilgrims to their holy place.

  Walking across the parking lot, they were all so excited with the shopping potential that awaited them, they forgot Corrine and her shorter legs. Marilee looked around and saw Corrine craning her neck upward, lost in wonder. “Y’all slow up!” she said to the others and raced back to take Corrine’s hand. Quite suddenly she recognized possible dangers. “Help me keep an eye on her,” she whispered to Charlotte and Franny.

  From store to store, rack to rack.

  “Oh, look at this!”

  “Au
nt Marilee, can I try this on?”

  “Oh, that is perfect for you!”

  “Not your color, Marilee.”

  “Ohmygosh, who would possibly wear this?”

  “Well, I would, darlin’.”

  “Does this make my behind look big?”

  “Sugar, don’t look at that.” Hands over Corrine’s eyes.

  “Oh! In this dress, my ship will come in!”

  “A ship? Honey, you’ll bring in the entire fleet with that.”

  Marilee came upon Corrine gazing at a mannequin wearing a hot pink T-shirt and fashionably faded jeans. Oh, dear Lord, she is growing up so fast.

  “Would you like to try that outfit on, sugar?”

  Corrine looked at her with wide eyes, then nodded.

  They went into the store for teens—flashing lights that caused Marilee’s eyes to squint—and chose the proper sizes. Corrine disappeared into the dressing room, and when she reappeared, Franny and Charlotte had joined Marilee.

  “Perfect for you!” Franny said instantly.

  “You are not a little girl anymore,” Charlotte said.

  “You are so lovely,” Marilee said, and kissed her niece’s cheek. Then, “I’ll go see if they have that shirt in yellow, too.”

  “Oh, thank you, Aunt Marilee!”

  Three hours later, tired bones lugged shopping bags to the food court and plopped into chairs at one of the few vacant tables.

  “We should have paced ourselves,” observed Charlotte, who removed her shoes.

  “I never realized shopping could be such hard work,” said Marilee, who had not yet found an outfit for wearing on the flight to the fabulous Walt Disney World honeymoon.

  “There’s just too many people around here for me,” said Corrine in a rare, candid moment.

  “Perk up, y’all,” said Franny, who looked as fresh as she had at the beginning. “We have just gotten started. Charlotte doesn’t have her bridesmaid dress, and Corrine still needs a swimsuit. Marilee, you must get more than bras, and I have to find my drop-dead gorgeous dress.”

  “You have found three drop-dead gorgeous dresses.”