Woo grinned. “My mother taught me to be polite. It’s time for your pills. Make sure you wear boots. Dress warm. A muffler and some kind of cap. If you get another chill, you’re headed for some serious sick time. I’m glad you’re lying to me and saying you feel better. That’s the Ross I know. You look like shit, so act accordingly.”
“Yes, Woo. Whatever you say, Woo. Don’t I always do what you say, Woo? Get going or you’ll be late,” Ross wheezed from his position halfway up the stairs.
“Ross?”
“Yeah, Woo?”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. See you tonight. Guess we’ll have chicken soup, since I didn’t get to eat it last night. Be careful walking or you’ll break your neck.”
“Likewise.”
Damn, his eyes were burning again. In three and a half hours, Ross thought, he was going to be a bachelor. Which was worse, thinking about bachelorhood or thinking about how shitty he felt? A fucking tie as far as he was concerned. In the bathroom, he turned on the faucets and waited for the room to steam up before he shed his clothes. It was still snowing, he noticed, when he parted the curtains. Surely Jory wouldn’t chance driving into town. Or would she? “Yeah,” he answered himself, “she would.”
It took Ross the better part of an hour to shower, shave, and dress himself. He didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but he did. Downstairs, he drank three cups of hot tea, doubled his medication, and added three aspirin to the pile of pills in his hand. He tried Jory’s number and was told the line was still out of order. There was no way he could drive out to Chestnut Hill, drive back, and make court at eleven. No way at all, Jory was on her own.
It was snowing lightly when Jory backed the Rambler station wagon out of the garage. The car was toasty warm, the new tires crunching on the hard-packed snow. She didn’t like the new falling snow because it was fine, almost like rain. The weatherman had predicted light snow later in the day when she turned the radio on at six o’clock. Damn. Thinking ahead, she’d strategically placed bowls of water and moist dog food bowls throughout the house in case she was late getting back. She’d also laid down thick wads of paper by the doors and at the foot of the stairs. Two hours to get into the city, thirty minutes in court, and two hours to get back. If Ross gave her the chains, she might get back sooner. She’d invite Pete for dinner, a big pot roast with potatoes and carrots and lots of gravy. Pete would like that. She’d set up a little table by the fire and they could look at the Christmas tree while they ate. They’d have a pleasant evening talking about his big family, and the big case he was prosecuting after the New Year. She’d talk about Florida. They’d play with the dogs, and Pete would go home, and she’d go to bed.
She cautioned herself to stay alert, to keep her eyes on the road ahead of her. She’d only driven in the snow twice in her life, and both times the snow was mushy and wet, nothing like what she was driving in now. The wipers swished furiously back and forth across the windows as they battled the fine, sandlike granules of snow. She drove in first gear, her left foot poised over the clutch. At best she was going less than ten miles an hour. She thanked God for the light traffic as she crawled along behind a fuel truck in low gear. She knew she was being a fool for even attempting the ride into town, since she didn’t even know if the courthouse was open. She swore under her breath when the heavy truck ahead of her skidded to the right. She pumped her brake but didn’t come to a stop. She was barely creeping now, the snow less grainy, but heavier. She called herself a fool and every other name she could think of. The court hearing had been canceled three times already. If Ross hadn’t come out to the house, she wouldn’t have known about this date today. She wondered if she should have gotten her own attorney, if it was a mistake to walk into court unrepresented. But with representation, what would she have gained? Nothing, she told herself, and I would have racked up a sizable legal bill.
It wasn’t her imagination, the snow was heavier, visibility terrible. The fuel truck was still ahead of her, its taillights a beacon in the gray-white gloom.
Her grip on the steering wheel was as tight as her clenched teeth. She knew if she relaxed her grip, she’d panic and the chances of an accident happening would be greater. She was going to be a mental basket case when and if she ever arrived at the courthouse.
She was going by landmarks now, the street signs invisible in the falling snow. Her wristwatch said she’d been on the road over an hour and fifteen minutes. Twenty more minutes crawled by and then fifteen more before she spotted the Landers Building. If she’d been religious, she would have blessed herself. She did offer up a prayer as she continued to creep along, looking for the entrance to the courthouse parking lot. The lot, she noticed, was partially cleared, with mountains of snow piled in the middle and along the sides. The number of parked cars had to mean court was in session.
God it was cold, she thought when she accepted her parking slip from the man in the small booth at the entrance to the lot.
“Is there a back entrance to the courthouse?” she asked the attendant, her teeth chattering.
“Go in through the basement. Turn left and take the elevator upstairs. One of the judges told me they’re going to close at noon,” the man volunteered.
That meant her case would be heard. It would be over and done with in thirty minutes, Ross had said.
Inside the cold, drafty basement, Jory shed her wool scarf and knitted hat. She stuffed her gloves in the pockets of her heavy coat. She needed to find a rest room to repair the lipstick she’d chewed off on her ride into town. Her nose was probably shiny, and she knew her hair was a mess. It wouldn’t do to have a husband see his wife, even if it was at their divorce, at anything but her best, she told herself whimsically. She asked the first person she saw, a policeman standing by the elevator, where Judge Ryerson’s courtroom was, as well as the ladies’ room.
On the way up in the elevator Jory removed her coat. Either it was stifling hot or she was so overwrought she was experiencing hot flashes. One minute she was freezing and the next she was sweltering. It was all emotional, she told herself. She felt anxious now, worried that she hadn’t fussed with her appearance before leaving the house. Was the simple navy-blue dress appropriate? In the rest room, she tucked a brilliant, crimson scarf around the neckline of her dress. After all, she wasn’t going to a funeral. There was no need to look somber. She was being liberated, sent back to the ranks of eligible bachelorettes. She fussed with the scarf and brushed at her hair, fluffing it until the curls suited her. She readjusted the shell combs over her ears. She leaned across the sink to peer at her reflection. She was too pale, her eyes lusterless. She reached for a tissue, blotted her lipstick, then spread it across her cheekbones. Ah, that was better. At least she looked like she was alive. Right now it didn’t matter how she felt.
Twenty minutes of eleven. Should she stay in here until five minutes of eleven or go outside and sit in one of the leather chairs?
Would Ross be early? Would Pete be in the courtroom? The only way she was going to find out was to walk to the hallway and wait. She took a seat at the far end of the alcove and watched a middle-aged couple spit and snarl at one another. A youngster of sixteen seated four seats away looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind them, they do this all day long, that’s why they’re getting a divorce.” He went back to reading what looked like a back issue of TIF. Jory continued to watch the boy’s parents. Once, they must have loved one another, and now it looked like they hated each other. She wondered where the boy’s loyalties were, with the mother or the father? How would he fare with the divorced parents?
“How do you feel about it?” she asked quietly.
The boy raised large dark eyes full of pain. “Anything is better than listening to this all day. The judge is going to ask me who I want to live with. I haven’t decided yet. My mother says my father has a chippie on the string. My father says my mother drove him away because all she wants to do is listen to the radio and read trashy
magazines like this one. I’ve been reading it since we got here to see what it is she finds so fascinating.”
“Have you come to a conclusion?” Jory asked.
“No. My grandmother says you have to have a screw loose to read this trash. I think she’s right. I think I’m going to tell the judge I want to live with my grandmother.” He lowered his eyes to the paper, his expression mystified at what he was reading.
When she saw Ross, he looked so ill, Jory rose from her seat. “Ross, over here. Are you all right?” He was carrying her father’s shearling jacket over his arm.
“I’m here,” Ross whispered. “I’m a little hoarse and I’m running a fever, otherwise I’m fine.”
“Did you go to the doctor?”
“No, but I’m going this afternoon. Woo called him and picked up several prescriptions last night. I’ve felt better and I’ve felt worse. I appreciate your concern. Did you have any trouble driving into town? Woo called a car service for you, but they were all booked up. Did they turn on the phones and power?”
“The power’s on, but the phones are still out. I wasn’t sure if court would be in session, but I took a chance. My tires are new and they have good tread. I drove in low gear at ten miles an hour. As you can see, I made it. The man in the parking lot told me they’re closing the courthouse at noon.”
Ross nodded. “I’ll put the chains on your tires before you leave. I parked in the lot.”
“Oh no you won’t. I’ll be fine. You’re in no condition to be here, much less outside working in the snow and freezing temperatures.”
“Are you going to fuss about it?” Ross asked wearily.
“No. And that’s my final word. If they’re closing all the municipal buildings, Pete might want to drive with me. He can put the chains on. Have you spoken with him today?”
“Earlier, before he left. They’re calling us, Jory.”
The couple was still wrangling when Jory walked past them. She heard the man say, “There’s so much crud on the frying pan, I’m afraid to eat anything you cook in it.”
Jory sat through the proceedings in a trance, answering and speaking only when she was called upon. She could barely hear Ross’s hoarse responses. She half expected the judge to say, “I now pronounce you divorced.” Instead he said, “This divorce is granted.” The entire proceeding took exactly twenty-five minutes.
“I guess that’s par for the course,” Ross croaked. “Our marriage took seven minutes, if I recall.”
“I always thought it took nine minutes,” Jory said, just to hear herself speak.
“No, it was seven. I remember thinking this is the longest seven minutes of my life. At the time that’s how I felt,” Ross apologized.
“Why does it take longer to end a marriage than it does to start one?” Jory asked quietly.
“Beats the hell out of me. Paperwork, would be my guess. You know, he said, she said, they said, and so on.”
“Which courtroom is Pete in?”
“I think it’s 407. Judge Cameron. Up one flight.”
Woo was packing his briefcase when Ross opened the door to Judge Cameron’s courtroom. He looked up, his eyes going from Jory to Ross. “I hope you’re going straight to the doctor, Ross. Glad you got here in one piece, Jory.”
“I’ll get there,” Ross said. “Listen, Woo, help me put the chains on Jory’s tires, okay? Maybe you should drive back with her. Court’s going to be closed tomorrow, and you won’t want to hang with me over the weekend. The decision is yours, of course. If you want to stay, you know you’re welcome. And yes, I’m going to the doctor at three. Sooner, if you guys get yourselves in gear. How’d the case go?”
“I got’em by the . . . very well,” he said, looking at Jory. “I’ll put the chains on the car. I’ll stick around until you get back from the doctor. In fact I’ll drive you myself to make sure you get there. I’ll pick up a set of chains and drive out later on. Does that meet with everyone’s approval? Do you think you can make it, Jory?”
“I got here without chains, so with chains I should be fine. There won’t be much traffic. We’re divorced,” she blurted out.
Both Ross and Woo looked at her.
“We are,” she said. “It just . . . registered. I feel like crying.”
Ross wanted to tell her he felt the same way. He looked helplessly at Woo before he handed Jory his handkerchief.
Damn him, he should have said something, Jory thought. Her back stiffened. “I said I felt like it, I didn’t say I would.” She thrust the handkerchief back at Ross. “I came in through the basement. My car’s in the lot. Ross said he parked there too. How did you get here, Pete?”
“I used my brains and walked. I’m ready if you are.”
“That’s how we’re getting home too,” Ross muttered. “Who cares if they tow my car?”
In the basement, Woo pushed open the door. “Jesus,” he said, stepping back into the corridor. “Give me your gloves, Ross, and that muffler. I’ll tie it around my ears. I need the keys to your trunk, yours too, Jory.” A moment later he was outside. Cold air swirled about their feet as the door closed behind him.
“You really are going to the doctor, aren’t you, Ross?” Jory said.
“I’m going to try. It doesn’t look good out there.”
“Just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you. I will.”
“Just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you getting home. Are the dogs okay?”
“They were when I left. I’ve never really left them for more than a few hours. I put down lots of paper and dog food. My worst fear is they’ll miss the papers and leave me a mess.”
Ross’s voice was almost a growl when he said, “Do you leave the tree lit up all evening?”
“I did last night. It’s breathtaking. Your wreath is right in the front. It adds a certain dash to the tree. The dogs sit and stare at it. I think they like it. Thanks for helping, Ross.”
“Thank you for allowing me to help. Listen, I’m sorry if I got out of hand.”
“And I’m sorry I made you leave. I guess I wasn’t prepared for you. Your visit was so unexpected. I thought . . . what I mean is, I didn’t expect you to tell me our case was moved up.” She held out her hand. “Friends, Ross?”
“Sure. By the way, I don’t know if this will mean anything to you or not, but my mother came by last night and fired me. If I hadn’t been so sick, I’d have danced a jig. Instead I rolled over and went to sleep. I felt like a thousand-pound weight had been taken off my shoulders.”
“Your mother fired you! I don’t understand. For heaven’s sake, why would she do such a thing?”
Ross tried to clear his throat. The best he could do was whisper: “She told me I have a set of grandparents, uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews. She wanted me to go with her to see them today. I refused. Until last night I thought my mother was an orphan. All of a sudden she has parents, sisters, and brothers. I felt cheated. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m happy as hell I suddenly have all these relatives, but to find out like I did . . . how could she do that, Jory?”
“Oh, Ross, I don’t know. Your mother . . . your mother is different than most people. She must have had a reason. What about your father? Did he ever say . . . allude to the fact . . .”
“Not a damn word. I had this feeling she hasn’t seen any of her family for a very long time and she wanted me with her because she didn’t have the nerve to go alone. That’s just my opinion, of course. She didn’t care that I was sick, she didn’t care about anything. She up and fired me. I had Woo show her to the door. I do not lead a charmed life, I can tell you that.”
“My dogs liked you,” Jory said shyly.
“They did, didn’t they? Woo’s dog and cat liked me too.” Ross beamed.
“Animals are astute judges of character. The vet told me that.” Jory smiled. “If you need support, moral or otherwise, when and if you decide to look up your mother’s family, call me and I’ll go
with you. I don’t think I could handle something like that alone. Maybe men are different.”
“I’ll take you up on that, Jory. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“It’s done,” Woo said, barreling into the basement. “It’s bad out there, Jory. Are you sure you want to leave? There’s room at Ross’s house if you want to stay over.” He looked at Ross, who nodded vigorously.
“I have to get back,” she replied. “What if the power goes out again? The dogs will freeze. We almost froze night before last. I’ll be careful and drive slow. Thanks for putting the chains on, Pete.”
“The engine’s running and the heater is on. If I don’t make it home tonight,” Woo said, “I’ll be there sometime tomorrow.”
“No, no. You have to tell me one way or the other so I don’t worry. Which is it?”
“Tomorrow,” Ross rasped.
“Okay. Tomorrow.” Jory reached out both hands to Ross. He hugged her. Woo did the same. “Take care of him,” she whispered to Woo.
“I will,” he whispered in return.
“We’ll go back upstairs and leave by the main door. It will save us a block of walking,” Ross muttered.
A second later Jory was out the door.
“We shouldn’t have let her go,” Ross growled.
“I know, but which one of us do you think could have stopped her?”
“We should have damn well tried,” Ross grunted as he punched the elevator button.
Ross and Woo walked arm in arm for support, their heads lowered against the driving snow, each busy with his own thoughts. There were few pedestrians on the sidewalk as the two men lumbered on. They stopped at the corner of Andover and Mitchel streets to wait for a traffic light that was no longer functioning. They were halfway across the street when Ross saw a Fieldcrest milk truck jump the curb and careen around in a half circle until it was headed in the opposite direction, sliding straight for Jory’s Rambler, whose headlights blinded the driver. The Rambler swerved to the right on impact, the Ford behind it crashing into the back end before it swerved back to the right, going over the curb, the right front bumper pinning Woo to the electrical pole. Ross felt a shove to his side, stumbled and ended up facedown in the snow. He rolled over, saw Woo’s agonized face and Jory slumped over the wheel of the Rambler at the same time. He was on his feet a moment later, trying to shout as he struggled with the Ford’s bumper.
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