Alma Mater

by Rita Mae Brown

  "Would it be any easier if she were a man?"

  "Yes. I'd know how to fight another man."

  "But if I left you for another man, fight or no fight, I don't know if the pain would be much different."

  "Okay." He took a deep, deep breath. "All this is happening at once. It's a lot. Why don't we let everything alone? Let's talk after Christmas. You don't know what will happen." He paused. "Do your parents know?"

  "About Chris being pregnant?"

  "No. About you and Chris."

  "No."

  "Vic, they might not take this as well as you think."

  "It isn't going to change what Chris and I are going to do. We are going to live together. We are going to raise the child together."

  All right. All right." He held up his hands. "But time does sometimes sort things out."

  "Charly, what I hope for, what I pray for, is that you'll be my friend and that you'll learn to be a friend to Chris."

  Chris, thinking along different lines, said, "We're all upset. This really is a shock. And I don't want to hurt you either, Charly. I wouldn't want to lose Vic. And I hope time will help, but how do 1 know that time won't only make you angry? How do I know you won't someday try to take the baby away from us?"

  Vic hadn't thought of this. She wouldn't have. Her mind didn't work that way.

  "If Vic and I got married, the baby would be safe."

  "But I'm the mother."

  "How do I know you won't take the baby away from Vic? What if you leave her?"

  "I won't leave her." Color rose in Chris's cheeks.

  "How do you know? What chance do two women have in the world? Two unemployed women with a kid?"

  "What chance does anyone have when they start out? All we've got is love. All anyone's got. Maybe the difference is that we know up front how unfair the world is," Vic replied.

  "Vic, you're willing to ruin your life?"

  "I'd ruin my life if I married you, and I'd ruin yours, too."

  This finally got through.

  "Jesus." Charly had to fight back the tears.

  "I'm sorry." Vic wished to her core that she had had the guts to tell him before now. The pain wouldn't have been so great. She swore she'd never be an emotional coward like that again. She never wanted to hurt anyone the way she was hurting Charly now.

  He shut his eyes and then opened them. "I won't try to take away the baby. But don't you take the baby away from me."

  "What do you mean?" Chris said this calmly.

  "I'm the father. I expect to pay child support, and I expect to see my child."

  "You just want to see Vic."

  "Of course, I do. But it is my baby, and Chris, like it or not, you two are going to need all the help you can get."

  "And when you marry?" Chris could have left that unsaid, but she wanted things out in the open.

  "I only want Vic."

  "Charly, I think what she's getting at is, would you and your wife try to take the baby away?"

  "I told you I won't do that. I give you my word."

  "Thank you." Vic took his hand and squeezed it; then she let go. It

  wasn't until Vic and Chris left him that Charly finally cried.

  T

  he crackling emotions between Vic and Chris did not go unno-

  ticed, but neither R. J. nor her husband could have imagined

  their real source. The Savedges, ever generous, were happy to include Chris in their holidays. Jinx and other young people not getting along with their parents had often found their way to Surry Crossing over the years.

  Christmas Eve dinner was planned for seven o'clock with the McKennas.

  At half past four, the sun dipped below the horizon. Bunny had been helping R. J. cook all day. As the sun's last rays bathed the landscape, Don called her and said he was running a little behind, but he was finally home. He'd shower, shave, change, and be over at the Savedges' on time.

  At six Edward Wallace rolled down the drive in a brand-new red Cadillac, Georgia behind the wheel. He brought Yolanda a salt block and some sliced apples, which he mixed into her feed.

  As he was leaving, Bunny stepped out for another armful of wood. "Merry Christmas, Edward. When will your truck be ready?" "Don't know. Georgia drove me by the shop, and everyone's gone,

  I think, but Don."

  "You must be mistaken. He's at home."

  "No, saw his car parked on the side and a new Dodge Ram."

  "Nora Schonfeld," Bunny hissed under her breath.

  R. J. jumped when Bunny roared back into the kitchen, dumping the wood by the kitchen fireplace. "Bunny!"

  Bunny ignored the pile of wood she had just dropped. "That son of a bitch! He's with Nora Schonfeld at the office. Edward saw her truck." "He's an old man. Surely he's mistaken."

  "Edward is an old man but he doesn't miss a trick. I am going to nail Don. This will be a Christmas he never forgets!" She tore off her apron.

  "Vic!" R. J. called.

  "Mom?" Vic came into the kitchen.

  "Go with your Aunt Bunny, will you? She'll explain, and you, well,

  just go."

  "I don't need a keeper!" Bunny glared.

  "Murder on Christmas Eve . . . Bunny, count to ten. The old man is probably wrong."

  Vic threw on her down jacket and ran back to the living room to tell Chris and Mignon she'd be out for a while. Then she sprinted to the car because Bunny was likely to take off without her.

  "Goddamn his eyes!" Bunny took the left turn out of the driveway so sharply that her binoculars would have slid onto the floor if Vic hadn't grabbed them.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "He's down there with that bitch. Edward Wallace saw his car and her truck parked back by Service. I will kill him. No, death is too good for him. make him suffer first."

  "He could have used another car. It's not like he doesn't have a lot of choices."

  "I know him!"

  "Aunt Bunny, slow down."

  "It's good that you see this. Men are all the same, Vic. Conniving, lying, cheating bastards. Just remember when you walk down the aisle."

  "No time soon."

  "That ring on your finger says different." She hung another curve too fast.

  "Aunt Bunny, slow down now."

  "Don't be reasonable! You're like your mother!"

  "I'd like to live to be as old as my mother."

  Bunny slowed slightly. "It's not like I don't give him what he wants. He wants sex, I am always available. Remember that. Don't refuse Charly sex. If you do, he'll find it with someone else. Men regard sex as a right, not a privilege."

  "Don't we?"

  "Oh, don't get philosophical! Women are better than men, and that's the end of it!"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "God, I never realized this place was so damn far away."

  "Aunt Bunny, it's only fifteen minutes away. You're upset. Everything seems, uh, tilted."

  "Don't tell me what's wrong. You're my niece, not my guru."

  "Yes, ma'am." Vic feared for the safety of the other cars on the road.

  "Think twice about getting married. I mean it."

  Vic flatly said, "Slow down."

  "If I don't kill him, I might practice on you!"

  The glittering red and gold ribbons of McKenna Dodge waved in the wind as Bunny slowed, sneaking onto the parking lot through the service entrance. Sure enough, Don's car of the moment was sitting next to a 1980 new Ram . . . but it wasn't Nora Schonfeld's.

  She picked up her newest, most expensive binoculars, training them on Don's office. She could easily see through the many windows.

  "See him?"

  "No." She scanned and then stopped abruptly. A sharp intake of breath announced she had found her target.

  Vic reached for the binoculars. Bunny, stunned, let her take them. Vic was greeted with the spectacle of Hojo in her command post, hands gripping the edge, legs apart, skirt hiked high up, and Don pumping away from behind. It appeared to be a very merry Christmas Eve
at McKenna Dodge.

  "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Aunt Bunny."

  Bunny snapped to attention, her mental clarity returned. "Get out of the car."

  "Now, Aunt Bunny . . .

  "Vic, get out of the car."

  "No."

  "Then fasten your seat belt. It's going to be a bumpy ride." She laughed hollowly. "Always wanted to say that line."

  Vic fastened her seat belt, frantically trying to think of something to say. Bunny swung around to the front of the dealership, turned on her bright lights to add to the terror, gunned the motor, and drove straight through the plate-glass window into the command center.

  Glass shattered everywhere. Hojo, when she saw the lights, uncoupled herself from Don, scrambling over the top of the command post. She ran like hell for the side door and made it to her truck.

  Don, a step slower and somewhat hampered by his erection, the head of his cock as red as Santa's suit, managed to get down behind the command post as the car hit it.

  Motor still running, Bunny rolled down her window. "The divorce papers will be on your desk tomorrow. Merry Christmas." She backed out over the crunching glass.

  "Aunt Bunny," Vic gasped. "We'll never make it back home. Your tires are punctured."

  "You're right. Go grab a set of keys. In fact, let's take the big black truck out front. I own half of the dealership now . . . independent of that bastard! It's my Christmas present to you." She slammed the door, grabbing her beloved binoculars as Vic sprinted to the key board. She scanned the keys, found the set for the black 1980 Ram half ton, and hurried back, taking Bunny by the elbow. She didn't want Don to come out from wherever he was hiding and inspire Bunny to do God knows what.

  They heard Hojo floor her red truck as it careened around the front of the dealership.

  "I'll attend to that filthy whore later."

  "Good idea. Come on, Aunt Bunny. Do you have your purse? Everything you need from your car?"

  Bunny turned back and grabbed her purse. Then, her emotions fluctuating between battle euphoria and an impending sense of dread, she allowed Vic to lead her out to the new truck.

  They drove back to Surly Crossing in silence. They had no sooner stepped through the back door than Bunny, on sight of her sister, burst into heart-wrenching sobs. Frank, Mignon, and Chris came into the kitchen to see if they could help.

  . R. J., her arms around Bunny, said to her husband, "Maybe a Scotch would help settle her nerves." She turned to Mignon. "Honey, bring Aunt Bunny some cheese and crackers . . . and a Scotch on the rocks."

  "I never want to see him again!" Bunny raged.

  "Come on, let's go to the living room." R. J. guided Bunny. Piper, under the tree, thumped her tail in greeting.

  Mignon put a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table and handed Bunny her drink. A fire filled the room with dancing light, the cheery wood releasing its intoxicating aroma.

  R. J. put Bunny on the sofa and sat next to her. Frank stood, not sure what else to do. Mignon plopped in a wing chair, as did Chris. Vic stood next to her father.

  "Frank, draw up divorce papers."

  "Let's wait a day or two," he advised, his voice soothing.

  "No. Give me those divorce papers as a Christmas present. I'm not backing down, and I'm not changing my mind. He's had one woman too many. And I'm giving the truck outside to Vic."

  "Aunt Bunny, I don't . . ."

  Bunny cut Vic off. "I could have hurt you. I know what I did was foolish but" —she laughed bitterly— "it was worth it."

  R. J. wrinkled her nose for a minute, her eyebrows darted upward; then she composed herself_ "Bunny, what did you do?"

  "Drove through the plate-glass window. Caught them in the act on that damned command center—which I designed."

  R. J. looked at Vic.

  "She did drive through the window. We left the car there because of the glass. I guess Uncle Don will come up with some explanation for the police and the insurance company."

  "'I was fucking my receptionist when my wife drove through the

  plate-glass window.' Bet the claims adjustor would love that." Bunny laughed and cried simultaneously.

  "Have a sip, honey." R. J. held the glass up for Bunny.

  "I don't want a drink. I want a divorce." She pointed her finger at Vic. "Think twice, Victoria, think twice. Charly may be wonderful now, but in middle age, men just . . . unravel."

  Frank ignored this. "Would you like me to go down to the dealership and see if I can find Don?"

  Bunny, red-eyed, thought about this. "I don't care if he's dead."

  Frank stared at R. J. for a minute. "You know, we don't want this getting in the papers in the wrong way. Girls, don't wait supper on me."

  "If you see my sorry husband, my soon-to-be ex-husband, tell him I never want to see his face again and that next timekill him."

  Frank didn't respond. He left the room, put on his long Brooks Brothers camel-hair coat, worn thin at the elbows, and opened the back door, letting in a blast of cold air,

  "Dad." Vic followed him into the hall. "Do you think Uncle Don will rat on her to the sheriff?"

  "No, but if the sheriff should swing by, do not under any circumstances let Bunny talk to him. But I think your Uncle Don is probably glad to be alive at this point." He clapped on his hat and left.

  Mignon came up behind Vic. "Bad, huh?"

  "Not good."

  "That was pretty cool, though,"

  "Not if you were sitting next to her." Vic shook her head. "I knew."

  "Knew what?"

  "That Uncle Don was banging Hojo."

  "Jesus, Mignon, why didn't you say something?"

  "Because I can keep a secret," she replied with pride. "I caught them kissing once."

  "So that's why Hojo pierced your ears even though she knew damn well Mom would have a fit."

  "It's not like I blackmailed her." Mignon closed the front door. The cold was making her shiver.

  "I forgot I left it open." Vic wondered where her mind was. "You did the right thing, not to tell. There wasn't anything Mom could have done about it or me. And no one wants to tell anyone their husband is sleeping with someone else. You know what happens to the messenger who brings bad tidings." She ran her forefinger across her throat. "Come on, we'd better get back in there."

  The two sisters returned in the middle of another one of Bunny's impassioned attacks.

  The stricken woman fixed on Vic as she entered the room. "Mark my words. You get a prenuptial. Every piece of jewelry he gives you during the marriage is yours. Every piece of property, stocks, bonds, anything of value, half because you earned half of it. I know you're in love, but you do this. Now." She pointed to the big ring on Vic's finger.

  Tears slid down Chris's face. Vic walked over, sat on the edge of the chair. "It's okay. Come on, Chris, it's okay."

  All of the day's emotions were catching up to Chris.

  Bewildered, Mignon sat down in the other wing chair.

  Bunny slowed down her own crying for a moment. "You, too, Chris. Mark my words!"

  Chris reached up for Vic's hand.

  "It's been a wild day." Vic held Chris's hand.

  "What do you have to cry about?" Bunny thought perhaps her behavior had triggered Chris.

  "Here." Mignon, trying to be helpful, had fixed Chris a Scotch.

  "I suppose seeing me doesn't make marriage look appetizing." Bunny wiped her eyes with the tissue R. J. handed her. "But you must draw up the proper papers. I don't give a damn how much you love him now."

  Vic breathed in and then exhaled slowly. "Mom, Aunt Bunny, Mignon, I'm not going to marry Charly Harrison."

  Even Bunny stopped crying to stare.

  R. J. picked up Bunny's Scotch for a sip and then handed it back to her sister, who thought another blast was not such a bad idea.

  "Wow." Mignon blinked.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Chris said as she cried anew.