A Different Kind of Blues

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A Different Kind of Blues Page 25

by Gwynne Forster


  “If he told you there’s nothing between them, he’s probably telling the truth. Perhaps there had been something, and he ended it. Some women are persistent in these matters. Be careful.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Growing up is not easy.”

  Petra could attest to that. At Krista’s age, she’d gotten pregnant and had to face her religious, born-again mother. She would always remember it as one of the darkest days of her life.

  Petra stepped out on her back porch and gazed at her garden, the young trees now bare of all but a few leaves, but eerily beautiful as the branches stood shrouded in the moonlight like ghostly creatures devoid of life. The rising wind caused her to shiver, and she folded her arms across her bosom for warmth. Not a light shone in Ethel’s house. Was that Ethel sitting on the porch? She opened the screen door and stepped outside in order to get a better look. Seeing her friend in a listless pose, she walked to the fence and called her.

  “Ethel. Is that you, Ethel? Anything wrong with your electricity?”

  “Petra? I just don’t feel like being in this big old house by myself.”

  She hadn’t counted on that complication. “You want to come over here and sleep on my sofa?”

  “Thanks, but I guess not. You feel responsible for me, but there’s no need for that. I brought this on myself. It’s been a good fifteen years since Fred and I slept in the same bed. I caught him cheating, and I told him he could stay, but he was never going to touch me again. Then, I cheated and with more men than Jasper Collins, too. Fred wants to come back, but in the time he’s been gone, I got used to not hearing him snore. I just don’t like living by myself.”

  “Well, whenever you think you could use some company, I’m here.” Petra went back inside and got ready for bed. She’d never realized that life could change so drastically for so many people in a few short months, and she sensed that greater changes were yet to come. “Trust they’ll be for the best,” her mother said, when she mentioned to Lena her premonitions.

  Krista came home Monday night after her piano lesson and choral rehearsal and flopped down in the dining room where Petra, Twylah, and Lurlene were playing pinochle. “I can’t believe I’ll be entering college in two weeks,” Krista said, holding her admissions letter high for all to see. “Daddy assured me that with my 3.75 average, I wouldn’t have a problem getting into college. I’m happy, but I hate to give up my piano lessons. I’m already playing simple hymns and other pieces. Daddy’s a great teacher, Mom.”

  “I see Krista love her daddy,” Lurlene said when Krista went up to her room.

  “She does, and he loves her,” Petra said, surprised by the pride in her voice. “I have to figure out how to get her a piano. She wants a grand, and that’s almost like buying an automobile.”

  “You’ll manage,” Lurlene said. “That’s what we women do; we manage.”

  “I hear Armena put Fred out. She said she wasn’t putting up with no man who didn’t know how to diddle,” Twylah said. “Don’t that beat all?”

  Petra’s cards fluttered to the floor. “When did you hear that, Twylah?”

  “Yesterday morning after church service. I hadn’t gotten halfway down the aisle before Rosa told me. Maybe he’ll go back to Ethel.”

  “Maybe. Let’s call it a night. I want to speak with Krista before she goes to bed.”

  The next day on her lunch hour, Petra went back to see the credit card company representative again. “I have to lay out a considerable expenditure,” she told the man, “and I’d also like to reduce my payments by twenty dollars a month. My daughter is entering college the first of the month, and I don’t suppose I need to say more.” She hadn’t lied, and she didn’t intend to. She left with a reduced payment plan, wondering if she would ever stop atoning for that month of freedom. Krista would get a discount at Dwill’s, but Petra didn’t want Krista to spend the money she’d saved for college on clothes and other necessities.

  Still, feeling that her life would run more smoothly, at least for the near future, Petra hummed a favorite tune as she hurried up the courthouse’s concrete steps in order to get back to her office before her lunch hour expired.

  “Sorry. My dear, I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world. Are you all right?”

  Petra looked up from where she lay sprawled at the top of the courthouse steps and gazed into the eyes of the star witness at the Hobart trial. He reached down to help her up, but she knocked his hand aside.

  “Leave me alone,” she sneered. She limped to her office favoring a bruised leg and browsed through her notes to check the man’s name. After finding it, she phoned the court officer and registered a complaint. “I don’t know why he’s pursuing me,” she told the officer, “but I’m suspicious.”

  “Did you tell him that it’s illegal for you to talk with him?”

  “I sure did, and he suggested we see each other anyway.”

  “Avoid him. I’ll put in your report.”

  She thanked the officer and set about transcribing the previous session’s notes. The ring of her cell phone interrupted her. “Don’t mention that I asked you for a date. It wouldn’t be wise.”

  It took her a few seconds to close her mouth for she recognized the voice. She flipped on her recorder. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, my dear. I would never harm you. I’m so enchanted with you. Please don’t deny me any longer.” The voice suddenly became less obsequious. “And don’t you dare report this conversation to anyone. You hear me?”

  She hung up, as chills streaked through her. “He’s testing your mettle,” her lawyer said when she told him about it. “Don’t worry. We’re going to put an end to this.” However, her lawyer didn’t act quickly enough.

  Petra arrived home around five-thirty that afternoon to find Krista, whose day off it was, cooking her special chili con carne for her brothers, Peter and Paul. The boys sat in the kitchen watching the process as Krista worked.

  “Hi, Mom. Paul, this is my mom. Mom, you remember Peter. They like chili, and when I hinted that chili was my specialty, they invited themselves to check it out.”

  Petra greeted Paul, a tall, handsome boy much like his father and siblings, who embraced her with a hug. “I hope you don’t mind Peter and me barging in on you, but chili is our favorite dish, and our mom has no idea how to make it.”

  “I’m delighted to have you here,” she said. “You’re welcome to come whenever you like and as often as you like. If you love chili, you’re in for a treat. Krista’s chili is hard to beat. I’ll be down shortly. I want to change my clothes.”

  “Mom, don’t bother cooking for Paul and me,” she heard Peter say, evidently using his cell phone. “Krista’s making a big pot of chili, so you know we’ll be full when we get home.”

  After a meal of chili, rice, and broccoli, with vanilla and raspberry ice cream for dessert, Petra sat in the living room watching television while Krista and her brothers cleaned the kitchen. She heard the doorbell ring and rose to open the door.

  “Stay right where you are,” Peter said. “I’ll get it.”

  “You want to speak with Mrs. Fields?” she heard him say.

  “Who is it, Peter?” Krista called.

  “A man who wants to speak with your mother.”

  Cold chills shot down Petra’s spine when she glimpsed the man’s reflection in the hall mirror. When she yelled, “I don’t want to see that man,” Paul rushed from the kitchen to the front door.

  “What do you want with her?” Paul asked him, “and what’s your name?”

  “My name is not your business.”

  “The hell it’s not,” Paul said. “You come here asking for her, and you tell us it’s not our business. She just said she doesn’t want to see you.”

  “I’m not leaving here till I see her,” the man said.

  “You planning to walk through us?” Paul asked the man. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”

  Petra gave silent thanks for the presence of Krista’s brothers and
shuddered as if expelling all the air from her lungs when, from the dining room window, she saw a police car pull up to the front of her house. Thank God, Krista had phoned for help.

  Two policemen rushed up the walk. “What’s the problem here?”

  Petra joined the boys at the front door, explained to the policemen the man’s insistence upon breaking the law, and that she had already reported him to the court officer.

  “I doubt you’ll have more trouble out of this man, ma’am,” one of the officers said.

  “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been here,” Petra told Peter and Paul. “Both of you are bigger than that guy, but I wouldn’t want to see you get into a fracas with anyone.”

  “I’m planning to study law,” Peter said. “Do you think I could sit in on some of those cases? I could write a paper on it and use it for my senior project.”

  “I will ask permission tomorrow.”

  The next morning immediately after Petra got to work, the court officer knocked on her office door. “Judge Harper wants to see you.”

  She unlocked her desk, removed her tape recorder, and accompanied the officer to the judge’s chambers. “Don’t be nervous, Ms. Fields,” the judge said when Petra folded and unfolded her arms and then locked her hands behind her in an effort to control them. “Have a seat. A police officer delivered this report to me a few minutes ago. Do you have any idea how this witness found your home address?”

  “I’m listed in the phone book, Your Honor.” She handed the judge her small recorder. “He warned me not to report him; it sounded to me like a threat. I happened to record that.”

  “Good. I commend you for not having allowed him to charm you into breaking the law.”

  “Thank you, sir. Your Honor, my daughter’s half brother is a high school senior who’s planning to study law, and he wants to sit in court and write a report on his observations for his senior civics paper. Is that possible?”

  “Leave the information with my clerk, and he’ll have a pass ready when you leave today.”

  She thanked the judge, stood to leave, and had a second thought. “Your Honor, what if that man tries to get even with me?”

  “He’d have to do it from jail. He attempted to bribe a juror and managed to date another one. In your case, he attempted to obstruct justice. By the time he gets out of jail, he won’t remember what you look like.”

  Goodman had not expected Jada to contact him again, so her phone call both surprised and angered him. “I know you don’t like interruptions,” she said, “but I’m behind in my rent, and I was wondering if you could help me out.” If his silence distressed her, he didn’t much care. “I could meet you downstairs at the studio, or—”

  “Or what, Jada?”

  “Or I could come upstairs and wait till you can stop what you’re doing and let me have a couple hundred dollars.”

  “Jada, I’m surprised that you’re so transparent. I really thought you were more clever. You can’t blackmail me, Jada, because I sat down with my wife last Saturday night and told her what went on between us, including your attempt to barter sex for a condominium apartment. So if you tell her, she won’t be surprised. In fact, I’m going to tell her about this conversation.” He began pounding his fist on his desk as if to reinforce his point. “When I told you it was over between us, I meant it. Don’t come back to the Oella Community Chorus. We both know that was never your real interest. I’m sorry we couldn’t have remained friends.”

  He didn’t feel good about trouncing Jada, but what choice did he have? He had learned that if you gave the woman an inch, she took a mile. He’d served her well in bed, but she could forget about that; he’d finished with cheating.

  When Petra got home that evening, she gave the court pass to Krista. “This is for Peter,” she told her.

  Although Carla had telephoned her once previously, it nonetheless surprised Petra to receive the woman’s call. “I don’t know how to thank you for getting that pass for Peter. He’ll be ecstatic when he learns that he’ll be able to sit in court.”

  “I was glad to do it, Carla. Children need encouragement. I thank you for allowing Krista to share your family’s life. She’s so happy to know her brothers. Tell me, is it true that you can’t make chili?”

  “Absolutely true.”

  “I could give you a good recipe.”

  “Oh, no,” Carla said in a voice that carried a sound akin to terror. “Thank you, but I don’t want to learn. As long as Krista’s willing to make it, I’m satisfied just to eat it. She sent me some, and I’d never tasted any that good.”

  After Petra hung up, she called Lena. “Mama, I want to cut a deal with you. Krista needs a piano, and I don’t have the money. It’ll take what I have for the things she needs for college. You don’t like living alone and, especially, eating by yourself. Why don’t you buy Krista a piano, close your apartment, which you hate, and move in with Krista and me.” She would have to learn to tune out her mother’s constant negativism. Maybe if she didn’t respond to the complaints, accusations, and put-downs, she’d hear fewer of them.

  “Sounds good,” Lena said. “I get tired of sitting here looking at these old walls. The place needs painting, but I can’t get the landlord to lift a finger. If Krista’s going to college, why does she need a piano here?”

  “She’ll be home on weekends, Mama, and Goodman said she’s doing well, but she needs to practice more.”

  “Well, it’s a bargain,” Lena said. “I want her to have the opportunities that you and I didn’t have—not that you couldn’t have had ’em if you’d stayed away from Goodman Prout like I warned you. If Goodman’s paying for her college, I can sure buy her a grand. May as well do something big for once.” They talked for a few minutes, and Petra marveled at her mother’s lack of stridency and attempts at joviality.

  If only she could get her own life in order. “I wonder what would happen if I went to Oakland and searched for Winston.” She pulled air through her front teeth, disgusted with the situation in which she found herself. Go to Oakland? Heck, she could hardly afford a taxi to the airport. Sitting on the edge of her bed, alone in the house because Krista had gone bowling with Paul, Petra wiped tears that she rarely allowed to flow.

  Sometimes I miss him so much that I feel like I’m drowning in loneliness. She got up and washed her face. “I can’t afford to think this way,” she said to herself. “If I do, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life. At least I’m alive and well.”

  Several days later, Petra rearranged her living room and then watched as delivery men placed a Baldwin grand between the fireplace and the picture window.

  “I can’t wait till Krista sees it,” Lena said, smiling more happily than Petra had ever witnessed. “When you gon’ call Reverend Collins?” she asked immediately, as if she couldn’t bear the camaraderie with her daughter. “He asked about you at prayer meeting, Wednesday night. ’Course nobody expects you to go to prayer meeting.”

  If she told her mother what she thought of Jasper Collins, Lena would preach and pray over her for a week, so she didn’t comment. As it happened, she encountered the preacher when she stopped at the supermarket on her way home the next afternoon.

  “I’m fine, Reverend Collins,” she told him when he asked, “but some of the people I asked to forgive me aren’t fine. Ethel and Fred separated, and she’s miserable. Sally’s girlfriend left her, and Sally hates me.”

  He looked as if a bomb dropped directly in front of him. “Ethel and Fred separated, you say?”

  “Yes, they did. I told Ethel I once slept with Fred, and she kicked him out. I wasn’t involved with Sally and Gail.”

  He seemed not to have heard what she said about Sally or that she had confessed to sleeping with Ethel’s husband. Shaking his head slowly, he said, “Ethel and Fred, huh?”

  “That’s right, Reverend, and Ethel confessed to some hanky-panky of her own. You know, Reverend, my reputation has taken a beating. Those things I as
ked people to forgive me for weren’t all that bad, except for sleeping with Fred, but add it up, and I seem like an awful person. People in this town talk, and while they’re talking, they embellish. My best friends have heard stuff. They haven’t said so, but I’m judging from the way they act.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered much if I had died, but I’m alive, and it hurts. I’d as soon wipe the Ellicott City dirt off my feet for good and never look back.” She didn’t wait for his response.

  When she arrived at work the next morning, she saw the red light on her phone blinking. “This is Petra Fields. How may I help you?”

  “Ms. Fields, this is Attorney Eric Lyons. Can we meet in my office at noon? We’ve settled the suit.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  With the sun’s rays caressing his body, Winston Fleet reclined in the hammock tied between two aged California walnut trees in the back of his grandmother’s house, where he loved to lie after a brisk swim in the pool. He closed his eyes, though he wouldn’t sleep, for his grandmother always seemed to think he needed food and a cold drink after swimming. He knew without hearing a sound that she’d come to sit on the stool a few feet away; somehow, he always felt her presence.

  “I brought you some lemonade and a slice of chocolate cake,” she said, “and I’ve got some nice hot buttermilk biscuits in there if you want some.” He’d rather have the biscuits than the cake, but he didn’t tell her because he didn’t want her to get up, and he was too comfortable to contemplate moving.

  “When are you leaving?” she asked him.

  “Why are you so certain that I’m going anyplace?”

  “You’re tormented. That’s why.”

  “Considering the time she said she had left, it’s probably over,” he said, truly acknowledging that possibility for the first time. He marveled that he and his grandmother discussed Petra without either of them mentioning her name.

  “I don’t see a thing dark around her. She’s alive and among living beings. It’s not all smooth, mind you, but I told you once, like I told her: she’ll be back out here.”

 

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