by Shirley Jump
“I’m…” I paused. This was a little more complex than I wanted to get into with a kid who still watched Mr. Rogers. “I’m, ah…”
“She’s a friend of Dave’s,” Annie intercepted. “Remember? The nice man who got Max to sit?”
“Oh. Okay. I’m Holly,” she told me a second time, then darted off to play with some dolls that were piled up at the end of the sofa.
Dave was known as the nice man who’d trained Max? Not Annie’s husband?
“She’s the informant. The other kids always send her in because she’s the cutest and the youngest.” Annie grinned, then sat in the opposite chair while the coffeepot perked behind her. “Now, what else do you want to know?”
Holly was the youngest. She couldn’t be Dave’s, which meant he and Annie had never had a child together. Two emotions hit me at once—relief and regret. Relief that Annie hadn’t been the one to supply what Susan and I had not, and regret that the Dave Reynolds line had ended with him lying naked in a hotel room.
I lowered my voice, particularly with Holly only a few feet away. “Why did you marry him?”
Or rather, why had he married her? But that question tread a little too close on the side of rudeness, so I kept it to myself.
Annie chuckled. “Right to the point, huh? Well, I was in a mess and Dave offered a way out.”
“A way out?”
“Business in trouble, five mouths to feed—though the way my kids eat, there are days it seems like ten—and then my mother, needing a place to go once her surgery was done. Rehab is not cheap and those insurance wackos hate to pay for it. As if rehab doesn’t help prevent costs down the road.” Annie waved a hand. “Don’t get me started on the faults of the insurance industry. Honestly, there were days when Dave and I could have one hell of a rousing argument about the deficiencies of the health-care industry.”
I waited, not saying anything, still not seeing how any of this added up to her wearing that ring on her finger.
“So anyway, Dave said if we got married, it might make things easier on me. Besides the money, he said it would give the kids a name, get the child-welfare people off my back to produce the various sperm donors’ vital stats.” Annie leaned forward, lowering her voice. “And that’s what most of those jerks were, you know. Sperm donors and nothing else. Because that was the only useful damned thing any of them left me.”
“He married you to give the kids a name?” For a second, I thought it was such an odd reason, but then realized Dave—the man who had given our neighbor Tim the lawn mower because Tim’s broke the day he lost his job, the man who had sponsored some kid in Ethiopia even as I warned him it was probably a scam—would have done exactly that.
“My kids, I’d do anything for them,” Annie said, a softness coming into her eyes. “I know I seem like the worst mom in the world, but try living with these five and see how chipper you are. Still, they’re mine and I love them. A couple of ’em have one last name, the others all have mine. I did have one ex-husband,” Annie said, the word clearly sour on her tongue. She shook her head, then went on, clearly just as much of a talker as Susan. “Anyway, once we got to talking and Dave heard the whole story of my crappy life, he offered to help me get the business back on track. Pump in some money, help cover the costs for my mother. But most of all, he was there when I went in to deal with those insurance jerks because they were really fighting that rehab thing. He went to bat for me and my mother, really did. Got coverage for twice as many months as I was asking for. And he pumped in enough money to save the family business. Real Disney ending on that one. Things are booming at the shop and my mom should be back to work this summer.”
“And not to mention, Dave trained Max for you.”
“Yeah, he did. That dog is a regular performer now. A couple times a year, I bring him to those shows and he does good. Not nearly as well as Harvey, but he’s got some talent chops on him.”
I considered this new information. It all made sense now. The check, the way everyone who knew about Annie seemed to be protective of her. She had been a woman in dire straits and my husband, whom I could either love or damn and right now I was doing both, had stepped in to play the white knight. “Wait. Why doesn’t Holly know who Dave is?”
“Because I’m not the heartless witch I look like.” Annie patted at her pocket for her cigarettes, then changed her mind. She rose, poured us each a cup of coffee and returned to the table. “I never married him.”
My mug was halfway to my mouth but I never took the sip. “You…you never married him?”
“No. I mean, we were going to. Had a date and a witness and the paperwork all done for the courthouse, but at the last minute, I backed out.”
“Because you found out about me?”
“No. I didn’t know about you and Susan when Dave proposed.” Annie reached across for my hand and met my eyes. “That’s the God’s honest truth, Penny.”
I believed her. If there was one thing Annie was, it was honest. There was no pretension, no fancy shoes and boob jobs hiding her true self from the world. She was the kind of woman who thrust it all out there and basically told you to take it or leave it. “What made you back out?”
She sighed. “Dave would have made it all easy. One I do and all my problems would be solved. He is…” She paused, then corrected herself. “He was the kind of guy a lot of women would sacrifice their right arm to meet. Compassionate, funny, giving. Would bend over backward to make sure you were happy. But…that was the whole problem.” Annie’s attention went to the window. “He wasn’t enough of a jerk.”
“You couldn’t take advantage of him.” My esteem for Annie went up a few notches. Damn it, now I was beginning to like her, too. My husband, I supposed, had had good taste in people.
Annie swallowed and her eyes misted. “No, I couldn’t. The Catholic guilt would have killed me. But I kept the ring—” at that, she twirled the diamond on her right hand around “—because I kept hoping. You know, that some fairy tale would happen and we’d both fall madly in love. Then we could run off into the sunset while I left the kids with a sitter.”
“How did you find out he was already married?”
“I put the pieces together. He didn’t live here, didn’t have a home anywhere nearby. Vinny called once and mentioned something about Dave just getting back from Rhode Island when he’d told me he was going to Colorado. I told you, I’ve been with a lot of liars.” Annie shrugged. “I just knew. So I confronted him and he told me, even showed me a picture of you. I think he needed to tell someone. He’d been keeping it from everybody. You, Susan, Matt, Vinny. I’m not even sure Harvey knew.”
“I had no idea,” I said softly, embarrassed to admit it but somehow needing to tell her. “I never put any pieces together.”
“Honey, you were the one Prince Charming married first. You think Snow White ever wondered if there was something going on outside the castle, after all that man did to be with her?”
I laughed a little. “No, probably not.”
“Besides, you don’t look the type to date losers from hell. You have to have personal experience with those kind of guys to develop the nose.” She spread her hands, indicating herself. “Dave wasn’t a loser, I don’t mean that. But he was a guy who was…confused. The thing he liked most about me, he said, was my family. Loved the kids. Maybe he was looking for that, I don’t know. We never got that far.”
I nodded, thanked her for the coffee, then rose. “Thank you, Annie.”
She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “One day, I asked him who it was he loved and he said it was you. I don’t know what drove him to complicate things like this.”
I knew that answer. I swallowed, then met her gaze. “I wasn’t that good of a wife. I wouldn’t have children, I wouldn’t let him bring home a dog.”
“Don’t keep blaming yourself. If Dave really wanted all those things, he would have worked on it with the woman he already had.” She paused, her focus going to some far-off p
lace. Tears shone in her eyes, grief bubbling up to the surface. An instant later, Annie had swiped it away. “Some men, they keep grabbing for the new toy because it’s easier than trying to fix the one they already have.”
twenty-two
My goodbye with Annie was far less emotional than it had been with Susan. She was holding one kid on a hip, while yelling at another who had started coloring on Max’s head with a Sharpie marker.
Annie had been right—June Cleaver she was not.
“You take care,” Annie said, embracing me with one arm. “Carly, quit that! Oh, wait, Penny. I have something for you.” She ducked back into the trailer and returned a moment later with a box. “Carly, you draw glasses on that dog and you’ll never watch TV again!” She leaned forward and handed the box to me. “Dave left this behind, last time he was here. He always had it with him when he traveled. I never looked inside it, though. Figured if he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.” A bittersweet smile crossed her face. “Guess it’s true that all the good ones are gone, huh?” She sighed and studied me for a long second while the kid on her hip tugged at her hair. “Anyway, you have a safe trip. It’s time for the warden to go back to work.”
I met Matt outside, where he’d been waiting at the picnic table, having left Annie and I alone to talk the whole time. Harvey was at his feet, tired but playing a little with Holly, who had climbed into the dirt under the table to play with the dog. Annie called for Holly from inside the trailer, her voice reaching decibels I hadn’t thought possible for humans.
As Holly went back inside, with one last sad look at Harvey, I sat down beside Matt, suddenly just as tired as the terrier.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Not so bad. I think I’m at the end of Dave’s wives. Or, I hope I am.” I ran a hand over the box, wondering what it held. More answers?
Or more questions?
I already had enough of those to host a Dave version of Jeopardy!
“You ready to go?”
I nodded. “It’s time to go home. Try to put my life back together. Figure out the assets, the division of the estate.” I inhaled, then let it go. “In other words, move forward.”
“You’ve done a lot of that already.”
I glanced over at him and thought of the kiss back in the convenience store. “Yeah, I have.” I grinned. “And I have the dog trophy to prove it.”
He laughed, then loaded us all into the car, taking the wheel and giving me some time to nap. The miles between Annie’s and where we’d left Matt’s car passed quickly, almost too quickly I had started to like Matt, to like him in a way I hadn’t liked anyone in a long time. That both scared and excited me.
I figured it was one of the things I could put on a shelf and deal with later. After I’d had some time alone to think, to discover who Penny Reynolds was—
Without Dave, but now with a dancing, singing Jack Russell terrier.
We reached his rental car and parked a couple of spaces away. Both of us got out of the Benz and stood beside the red Honda in the awkward silence that came at the end of a date. Only this wasn’t a date and I wasn’t expecting a goodnight kiss.
Was I?
Right now, after the week and a half I’d had, I had no idea what I wanted. I don’t think I was even capable of ordering an ice cream at Dairy Queen.
“You going to be okay?” he asked me. “It’s a long drive back to Massachusetts. If you want, I can drive your car and you can take my plane ticket, change the New York to Boston.”
I thought of the Penny I had been before this journey. I’d avoided conferences because they upset my schedule. I’d planned every trip I ever took, even if it was just to the grocery store, to make the best use of my time and to take the least stressful route. Everything in my life had been scheduled and regimented because if I kept it all on a tight leash, I felt I could fend off some unpredictable disaster.
It turned out, of course, that I hadn’t been controlling a damned thing.
Now, I was living more or less by the seat of my pants. I glanced over at my car, where two maps I’d printed the day before sat on the dash. Each from Internet sites that provided turn-by-turn guidance and exact distances and times for my journey back up to the East Coast, the main one and the backup, should something happen to the first copy. I might be loosening up, but I had no intentions of getting lost.
“I’ll be fine,” I told Matt, and as I said the words, I finally felt as if they might be true. I no longer had the urge to curl up under the afghan and shut out the world for a month, a year. “I’ll get a motel or something along the way, rather than try to drive it straight through.”
“Good.” Matt stood there, his keys in his hand, looking as if he wanted to say something more. His gaze connected with mine and a surge of attraction rose inside me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Penny? I mean, emotionally.”
I scanned the traffic rushing by us, the deep green of new spring grass along the side of the road, the bright blue April sky punctuated by a burst of orange sun. The world had gone on despite my husband dying and the surprise of his near-triple bigamy. And so, too, would I. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”
He gave me one quick kiss, a noncommittal, nonrushing-things kiss. I appreciated that from him, as well as the way he cupped my cheek at the end, studied my eyes, and gave me the grin that had become as familiar as Harvey.
It took me a day and a half to get back home. As promised, I spent the night in a Motel 6 along the way, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep that felt more restorative than a bottle of One A Day.
I spent the drive back with Harvey nearly glued to my side, his little BooBoo the only thing that separated us. I knew why—he was missing Dave and clinging to me helped fill that void.
And keeping my hand on his little head as I drove through miles and miles of unfamiliar land did the same for me.
All those hours alone in the car allowed me to do the one thing I had yet to do—grieve. Memories of Dave flooded my mind, tumbling one on top of the other, like a bunch of children all seeking to be the favorite.
All the bad ones came first, released by the remains of the betrayal still simmering inside me, but then as I drove, a calmness descended onto my shoulders. The bad memories yielded to the good ones:
The day he surprised me with the Benz, wrapping the entire car in a festive balloon-decorated paper. The first Christmas we celebrated, when Dave had brought home a tree so big we had to move the sofa out of our tiny apartment living room to make room for its massive green circumference. The day we bought the house, when he insisted on carrying me across the threshold, then nearly dropped me when he tripped.
There were dozens of memories, small, big, all of them part of the fabric of our marriage. I played them back on my mental movie screen, searching for where the threads had unraveled.
But I was tired, emotionally, physically, in every way, and connecting the dots seemed too big a job right now. Tomorrow would be time enough to find those loose ends and hopefully tie them back together.
Georgia was waiting when I got home, sitting on my porch in the dark, wrapped in an old tattered quilt I kept in the wooden chest beside the swing.
“Georgia!” I said, getting out of the car, Harvey and his little bunny in one arm, my overnight bag dangling from the opposite hand. “You didn’t have to wait for me to get home. It’s so late.”
She hurried down the driveway, wrapping me and Harvey in a hug. “Of course I did. I’m your sister.”
I hugged her tight, tighter than I ever had before, drawing comfort, a sense of home, of place, from the sister who had oftentimes been more like a daughter than a sibling. The scent of berries and clean cotton rose off her skin, sweet and soft. “It’s good to see you.”
She pulled back and studied me. “You’ve changed.”
I smiled. “For the better, I hope.”
Georgia nodded. “Much better. You seem stronger, more independent.” She grinned. “More spontaneous.”
Weariness descended over me. “I’m not feeling very spontaneous right now, not after all that time on the road.”
Georgia took my overnight bag out of my hands, then waved me toward the walk. “Then let’s hurry and get you inside. You’ll feel much better with a glass of wine in your hands.”
A few minutes later, the two of us were sitting on the sofa, my shoes kicked off and forgotten by the front door, a mess I would have never let stood before. In light of the past few days and all the changes I’d been through, though, making sure my shoes were neatly lined up in the hall closet didn’t seem quite so important.
“So, what was Annie like?” Georgia asked.
“Nice, but a little rough around the edges. I liked her. Very much.” I took a sip of the white wine Georgia had brought over, a blend that wasn’t too sweet or too dry. For a second I could believe Georgia was compromising her tastes with mine. Then I caught a glimpse of the cartoony apples dancing around the label. It seemed Georgia’s method of picking libations wasn’t so bad after all. “I liked Susan, too. Both of them were women I wouldn’t mind having as neighbors. Even friends.”
Georgia shook her head. “Who would have thought that when this whole thing began?”
“Not me. Definitely not me.” I absentmindedly patted Harvey, who had curled up beside me on the cushion, his little body directed toward the crackling fire I had lit a few moments before. “It’s like…Oh, this is going to sound silly.”
“You sound silly?” Georgia said, sitting back with a bemused expression on her face. “Please indulge me, big sister.”
“It’s like Dave was Goldilocks and we—me, Susan and Annie—were the three bears. One was too pretty, one too tough and one was—” I cut off the words. I hadn’t been just right. If I had been, he wouldn’t have looked at the other bears.
There went my fairy-tale theory. Good thing I wasn’t writing for the Brothers Grimm.
“One was just right, but Dave was too busy looking for more that he couldn’t see how perfect you were.” Georgia took a sip, then placed the goblet on the end table. “After meeting them, why do you think he wanted to marry Susan and Annie?”