No Coming Back

by Jessie Salisbury

  36.

  Archie Weston was bored. It was raining for the third day in a row and he couldn’t go outside and ride his bicycle. Ken had gotten over his sickness and gone back to High Meadow on Tuesday and, as usual, his father was at work and his mother was resting on the sun porch. He wanted to go to the pool or to the boys’ club where he could shoot hoops, but there was no one to take him any place. He went looking for some excitement.

  The door to Rich’s room was locked, as it had been ever since he left so Archie could not satisfy his curiosity. Ken’s door, however, was open and he went in. The room was much like his own, a high-ceilinged corner room with wide windows on two sides and a large closet on another wall. Ken’s bed was between two of the windows, well-filled bookshelves were between one window and the corner, and a built-in desk was on the other side. It had been Ken’s room for as long as he had lived here, ever since he was Archie’s age.

  On the table beside the bed were a lamp, a clock radio, a book, a couple of medicine bottles, and a handful of letters. Archie walked slowly around the room, peered into the closet, and stopped by the desk. There was a picture of a dark-haired woman on it, a woman he had once been told was Ken’s mother who had died when Ken was little. He poked into drawers but found only tee shirts and underwear. There were no books he wanted to read, nothing of interest anywhere.

  Disappointed, he turned to the bedside table. He clicked the radio on softly and looked at the letters. They meant nothing to him until he picked up a small pink envelope. He pulled out the enclosed card and read the note slowly. He rarely had to read cursive writing.

  Ken, dear, there is no way I can attend your engagement party. I couldn’t stand it. I can’t bear to see you engaged to someone else, planning to marry Sue. I can’t wish you happiness when I have none. I want to see you one more time. I need to. Wendy.

  Archie did not completely understand it but he realized enough to know that it could be the key to his revenge on Ken for complaining about the loud music. His mother had reamed him out for that when she realized how sick Ken was. She had told him he should be more considerate of other people. It still rankled.

  He slid the note back in the envelope, tucked it into his pocket, and turned the radio off. He walked quietly down to the library, first making sure his mother was still on her chaise. As usual, there was a pile of papers on his father’s desk, what looked to Archie like business stuff. He slipped the pink envelope into the middle of the pile, went back to the living room where he picked up a couple of comic books from the coffee table, then retreated to his bedroom.

  He didn’t know how long he would have to wait for some fireworks, but he was patient. That will teach Ken to yell at me!

  37.

  It was mid-August and a stifling blanket of hot humid air had settled over the city, slowing or stopping most outside activity. Only after sundown was the outside air tolerable. Rich and Laura sat in the comfortable dark on the steps of the Boutelle home taking advantage of a light breeze that dispelled the mosquitoes and carried the scent of flowers and someone’s newly mown lawn.

  They had returned a short time earlier from the dinner following Pete and Julie’s wedding, changed from their formal attire, and now relaxed. She sat on the step above him with his head was resting against her knee. Her hand was on his shoulder, caressing away the tensions at the back of his neck.

  Rich was silent, gazing out into a darkness lit only by a quarter moon and the light spilling from the windows behind them.

  Laura squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Rich?”

  He turned but could not see her clearly in the dimness. He was enjoying her closeness and the quietness of the night, but not his thoughts. “Yeah?”

  “You seem to be lost in thought. Were you thinking about the wedding?”

  “In a way. I’m glad for them. Julie looked so happy.”

  “She’s wanted to get married for a long time. She just didn’t seem able to convince Pete without scaring him away.”

  “He always said he wasn’t the marrying kind, that they didn’t need any of that ceremonial stuff. He loved her and that was enough. They’d been living together for three years so they might as well have been married.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “Is what?”

  “Living together, without that formal commitment.”

  Rich considered that. It was a simple wedding at the Methodist Chapel with Julie’s family minister officiating. Besides Rich and Laura, the only others attending were their immediate families, some of Pete’s long time teammates with their spouses or significant others. Julie’s very becoming street-length loosely fitted dress was ivory lace, and Laura wore a yellow satin sheath. The dinner at the restaurant following the short ceremony was excellent if not lavish, and there was a decorated cake and champagne afterward.

  Rich had never given much thought to wedding ceremonies, thinking that was something the bride decided. Keeping his attention on the street in front of them, he asked, “Is it enough for you? Or do you want all of that ceremony?”

  “It might be for me,” she said carefully, “but our families want to see it all done properly, the old-fashioned way, the way they did it.”

  “Yours, maybe.” He knew that is what his mother wanted.

  “My mother often talked about mine, the gown, the flowers, the big reception. She was really looking forward to it.” She stopped. “But she didn’t live to plan it. I think I should do what she wanted. I know my father thinks so.”

  He suppressed the bitterness of his own shattered dreams. “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way you plan them.” He stared out into the darkness, not wanting to remember.

  She didn’t speak for a moment then asked more lightly, “What are you staring at out there? Your car? Willie did a great job washing it.”

  He sighed then shook his head. “I was thinking about a bright red Chevrolet convertible. My mother and Jim gave it to me when I graduated from high school.”

  “You were driving it that night?”

  “It didn’t survive.” He paused a moment. “Neither did I.”

  She slid down a step to sit beside him in the circle of his arm. “You have survived very well, Rich.”

  “But not my dreams.”

  “Dreams can change. Sometimes they have to.”

  He turned enough to face her and put both arms around her. “You weren’t part of that dream. Now you are. Will you plan that big wedding with me?”

  “Not yet, but I’m willing to stay and help you find your answers.”

  “Answers to what?” He knew what she wanted, wanted him to talk about, but he couldn’t.

  She rested her head against his shoulder. “As a start, about going back to school.”

  He tightened his arm around her, more convulsively than he wanted. “What do you mean?”

  “You received a letter from Valley High School asking about the second semester, if you’re coming back. You left it on the table. Have you answered it?”

  “No.”

  “You’re still debating?”

  He nodded. “I have to think about it.”

  “Saying that you are hoping to return in January isn’t definite, you know. Not until you sign the contract. Things can come up to change plans, but I think you need to make that much of a commitment. Now, while you still have the offer, the chance to go back.”

  “I don’t know. Helping Willie and Andy has shown me what I’ll be missing. It hurts too much.”

  “But it has also shown you, and them, that you can still do it, still give those kids the help they need. And maybe inspire them a little more.”

  He tightened his arm around her but couldn’t answer. Spending several Saturday mornings with the boys had been pleasant and not too painful, as long as he was ab
le to sit part of the time. The boys were eager, wanted to play, but they were so inept . . .

  She tilted her head far enough so she could see his face. “Then do it for me.”

  She was goading him, perhaps even daring him, and he resented it, but her lips were there, inviting him, and he accepted the invitation.

  He held her close afterward and whispered into her ear, giving in to his need. “For you.”

  She rested her head against his chest. “I’ll help you through it, Rich. I promise to be there, supporting you.”

  “And that big wedding? In the apple blossoms?”

  “Not yet. There are still too many unanswered questions. Too many things you haven’t settled in your mind, and you have to, if you want to be happy. And for me to be happy, so do you.”

  He knew what she meant, what she wanted him to say, but he couldn’t. “No. Even for you I can’t talk about what happened.”

  “That red convertible?” she asked softly.

  “That, and what led up to it. Laura, for me there is no coming back.”

  38.

  It was Friday evening, after a long miserably hot week. Jewel was sitting in the living room, knitting as usual. Ken and Archie were playing a game of Chinese checkers on the coffee table when Jim came into the room. Ken glanced at him and knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. He knew of nothing that could have caused that visible anger, the tightening of his jaw and the clenched fist, but an unreasonable tight knot formed in his chest.

  “Something wrong, Dad?” he asked as calmly as he could.

  “Very wrong.” His father held out a small pink envelope.

  Ken recognized it with a sudden blow to his stomach. He had totally forgotten about it. Why didn’t I throw it away? He stood up as Jim came closer, getting a tighter grip on himself, pushing his fear and his anger deep inside.

  Jim held out the envelope. “Read it.”

  Ken took it but didn’t open it.

  “Is that yours?”

  “It’s mine.” He didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t deny it.

  “Then explain it.”

  Ken kept his gaze on the envelope. “It explains itself.”

  “You have nothing else to say?”

  Ken looked up. Anger, indignation, and a sense of being unfairly wronged, were taking over, engulfing him. I’m an adult, my own man. I don’t need this. “Only that I didn’t answer it, didn’t go. I haven’t seen her for weeks. It was a mistake.”

  Jim’s expression didn’t soften. “I never would have believed it.”

  “Then believe me now. No harm was done. It’s all over. I’m going to marry Sue. Remember?”

  Jim ignored him. “As if we didn’t have enough trouble with Frank now. What in hell were you thinking?”

  Ken didn’t answer. He couldn’t defend himself. Or Wendy.

  “With all the girls in this state you go and pick a married one to have an affair with, your own sister. You make me disgusted.”

  Ken exhaled a long exasperated breath. “All right, don’t believe me. It was all perfectly innocent. We didn’t have an affair, as you call it. She was feeling down and wanted to talk to me. Like she did when we were young. Before she met Frank.”

  Jim growled. “You have no more sense than you ever did.”

  Ken stepped away from him. “Okay, so I’m wrong again. I always am. Wendy is nothing more than a sister to me.” He turned toward the door. “Maybe Rich has a spare corner I can crawl into.” It seemed the only means of an honorable escape.

  Before he reached the doorway, Jewel said quietly, “Ken, wait.”

  Ken stopped, hating himself for doing it, but hoping his father would call him back.

  “Ken. Don’t leave.”

  Ken didn’t turn around until he had control of himself again.

  Jim crumpled the note and threw it into the fireplace. “I can’t let you go, too.”

  Ken didn’t move. He didn’t trust himself.

  “Come on, Ken,” Archie said, “it’s your move.”

  Ken stared at him, uncomprehending.

  Jim stomped out of the room leaving a heavy silence.

  “Come on,” Archie said impatiently. “Play.”

  Ken went back to the checkers game. It’s like nothing happened, but Dad won’t forget it. And neither will I. That thought surprised him, but he didn’t really think further about it.

  However, indignant outrage had settled in his chest and he defeated Archie much more decisively than he usually did. I have to get something out of this!

  Tomorrow he would see Sue, and by then Jim should have calmed down.

  39.

  The following evening, Saturday, Ken had supper with Sue at a small restaurant they both liked for its quiet intimacy and not-too-spicy Mexican cuisine. He told her briefly what had happened. “Dad didn’t take it very well.”

  She reached across the table and squeezed his fingers. “He didn’t believe you?”

  “He believes only what he wants.”

  “Rich has sort of hinted that he can be hard to live with sometimes.”

  Ken laughed shortly. “He is. Right after Rich’s accident, it was almost impossible. And it hasn’t gotten much better. At least where Rich is concerned.”

  She left her hand on his. “What did happen that night? Laura says Rich won’t talk about it at all. He told her he really doesn’t know what happened.”

  “I’m not surprised he doesn’t remember the accident. People usually don’t. But what happened before that . . . he hasn’t forgotten that and it’s why he won’t come back.”

  “It must have been something terrible.”

  He appreciated her offered sympathy and made his decision. It was time somebody knew, and the telling might help him get things into a better perspective. “It was.” He took her hand in his and regarded her somberly. “Even if he hadn’t run into the utility pole and half killed himself, it would have been a long time before he came back.” He looked away from her, remembering what he had tried to forget. “I was there. No one else knows that and I keep trying to forget that I was. I had no business being there, really. It was between them.”

  “It’s all right. I was just wondering. If you can’t talk about it . . .”

  He was remembering it all too vividly and he needed to tell her, to relieve himself of the secret, to share it with someone. “I’d just come back from a trip to New Jersey. Dad sent me down there to an equipment sale. Nobody saw me come in and I heard it all from the hall.” He paused, sipped at his glass of water. “The weather was awful and I almost didn’t go home. Ice was building up on everything and I thought maybe I should stop at a motel in Massachusetts. I don’t remember why I didn’t.”

  He stopped but Susan didn’t speak. Her hand remained clasped around his.

  “They were there in the library, Dad and Rich and Archie. I don’t know where Mother was, probably in the living room. Dad was madder’n I’d seen him in years and I was glad I was outside. He was doing a lot of sputtering and the first thing I heard that made sense was when he said, ‘The money was here last night and I want to know where it is now.’ Rich said he didn’t know where it was, didn’t know it had been there, and besides, why would he take it? Dad said he didn’t say Rich had taken it, but somebody had.”

  He stopped a moment to sort out the painful memories and picked up his water glass. “Then Rich said, ‘You’ve all but said it was me.’ Dad asked him if he had taken the money and Rich said no, he hadn’t.”

  Ken paused again. “So Dad asked if he was blaming Archie. Rich said he wasn’t, but that Archie was capable of it.”

  “Archie?” Sue asked, her incredulity plain. “Your little brother? Would he have done it? Stolen your father’s money?”
>
  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, Archie piped up and said he hadn’t taken it. Rich said something like, ‘Hah,’ and it made Dad madder.”

  Sue squeezed his hand again. “You said your father thinks Archie is something special.”

  Ken sipped at his water again, calming his breathing. “Yeah, and Archie knows that. Anyway, Rich said ‘Archie does just as he pleases and you never say anything to him. You set the rules for Ken and had me obey them—when to go to bed, eat all your vegetables, play fair, and always tell the truth or I’ll tan your hide.’”

  “Had your father said that?”

  He nodded, not looking directly at her. “That, and more, but Archie’s pretty spoiled. Anyway, just then he piped up again and said Rich had taken the money. Said he had seen him do it. Rich started to say something, I guess, but Archie said Rich made him promise not to tell, said he’d kill Archie if he did. Rich said something like, ‘Archie, so help me,’ and then Dad yelled for them to be quiet. After a moment Dad said he’d never known Archie to lie and why would he? Rich said it was because it suited his purpose. Archie squealed that he didn’t take it and Rich said, ‘Believe him or me. I didn’t take your money.’”

  Ken released a long breath and met Sue’s sympathetic gaze for a moment. His hand clenched convulsively around his water glass as he remembered his shock and disbelief. Sweat was forming on his forehead. “Dad didn’t say anything and Rich started to leave, said he’d had it and couldn’t take any more. I moved back behind the door where they couldn’t see me.”

  Ken stopped again to get control of his voice. He was afraid his long suppressed anger was showing. He covered his eyes with his hand and wiped at the gathering sweat. “Dad said he hadn’t told Rich he could go. Rich said he was through telling him anything, and he was out of there. But Dad said he wanted an answer. Rich said, kind of quiet like he does sometimes, ‘If I said I took I’d be lying and I don’t lie to you.’ Archie said Rich did, too, take it. I guess Rich had really lost it by then. He called Archie a brat and told Dad to let him go. At that point I think Dad hit him.”