Ribbon of Years

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  His home seemed always to be in a state of bedlam, some days worse than others. His wife never fixed herself up nice, the way she had before they got married. Their twin daughters, Victoria and Valerie—who'd turned five last March—were into mischief from the moment they woke up to the moment they went to bed, and Mac never seemed to stop fussing.

  How'd this happen to me?

  There he'd been, newly mustered out of the air corps in early 1946, playing the role of war hero and having a good time in San Francisco. That was where he'd met Elaine Cooper, a pretty blonde who, at the time, had reminded him a little of Miriam. Twenty years old and ready for a man of her own, Elaine had set her cap for Jacob. He should've seen it coming, but he hadn't. Just all of a sudden, he'd been engaged, and the next thing he'd known, he had a wife.

  Nine months after that, he'd been the father of twins.

  He muttered beneath his breath and walked faster, but he couldn't escape his racing thoughts. Hadn't he been good to Elaine? Hadn't he provided her with a nice house to live in? Okay, so they didn't own it, but it was still nice. Why couldn't she be content?

  And why couldn't she maintain a little bit of order? Whatever happened to a man's home being his castle? Was it too much for him to ask to come home at the end of a hard day at work and enjoy a good meal and well-behaved children and some peace and quiet? Was it?

  Elaine accused him of running away from life. Maybe that was true. But it wasn't the life he'd wanted in the first place. He couldn't even remember proposing to Elaine. More than once he'd suspected she'd tricked him into marriage, maybe when he'd had a little too much to drink. And it sure hadn't been his idea to have kids so quickly. They hardly got a chance to know each other as man and wife before the girls came.

  As he crossed Cottonwood Street, he glanced toward Del and Miriam's house, wishing he could go talk to Miriam. She had a way of making sense of things.

  Lucky Del. Going home each night to a beautiful wife and a quiet home. The worst thing Del had to deal with was walking Sarge, that silly little terrier of Miriam's.

  Okay, so he wasn't being fair. The Tuckers hadn't exactly had it easy. They'd had plenty of hard knocks, he supposed, yet they were still the two happiest people he knew.

  Peace, Miriam called it. Peace from knowing Christ.

  Jacob grunted. He never would have figured her to be the one to get religion. Sure, her folks had always been churchgoing, like the McAllister clan, but that hadn't stopped Miriam from doing what she wanted as a girl. She'd been headstrong, stubborn, and fun loving, and Jacob had liked her that way.

  If things had been different, if she'd felt the same way about him as he had about her, maybe . . .

  He arrived at Mooney Tucker's house then and promptly put away all thoughts except for sharing a few beers with his boss and forgetting his troubled lot in life.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  "YOU'RE LOOKING KIND OF PEAKED, PIXIE."

  Miriam frowned at her dad. "Thanks a lot. I needed to hear that." She shook her head. "When are you going to stop calling me that silly pet name?"

  "Never. Now tell me what ails you."

  "Just a queasy stomach." She stared at the drugstore shelves. "What do you recommend?"

  Frank came out from behind the counter. "Well, let's have a look." He headed toward the front of the store. "Are you and Del still planning to chaperone the dance at the school tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "If you're sick, you ought to stay home."

  Miriam gave him an I'm-not-a-little-girl-anymore-so-stop-treating-me-like-one look. "I'm not sick, Dad. I ate something that didn't agree with me. That's all."

  "Hmm." He might as well have said he didn't believe her.

  "Men," she muttered, remembering how Del had fussed over her that morning, saying she looked exhausted and should stay home and rest. Good thing she hadn't upchucked until after he left for the store.

  She wasn't sick. If she were, she'd feel lousy all the time, and she didn't. She was listless, true, and had been for a few weeks, but today was the first her stomach had been upset. Otherwise, she felt fine.

  "Here. This ought to do the trick."

  "Thanks." She took the small bottle from him without looking to see what it was.

  "You go home and lie down for a while. Let it work."

  "Okay, Dad," she said with a sigh of resignation. "You win."

  He chuckled as he placed his arm around her shoulders. "At least you don't have to worry about fixing Sunday dinner for your old man. I've been invited to dine with the Hogans tomorrow at their place."

  She looked at him and grinned. "That'll be nice. You and Mr. Hogan haven't swapped stories in ages." Her reference was to the legendary but friendly competition between the two avid fishermen.

  "Jim's got kin visiting from Oregon," Frank replied, ignoring her teasing comment, "so it sounds like it'll be a houseful. Kind of an early Thanksgiving, I guess."

  Miriam gave him a squeeze. "Well, I hope you'll have a great time."

  "We will. Now, you get on home. If you're going to chaperone a bunch of teenagers, you need to be in tip-top form. There's bound to be at least one like you in their midst."

  "Was I so bad?"

  In a dry tone, he answered, "Yes."

  She laughed, gave him another hug, then left the drugstore, pulling her coat collar up to keep out the cold.

  As she walked home, she thought about her dad's comment. It was true. She had been a troublesome teen. She must have given her parents plenty of gray hairs.

  She felt a sting of missing. For her mother. For Arledge. For the family they'd once been. And for the family she didn't have, for the children she'd wanted.

  How she'd railed at God when the doctor told her it was doubtful she'd ever conceive. She'd been new in her faith that summer and so certain that being a Christian meant life would be perfect. She'd cried when the doctor delivered his verdict. Later she'd screamed at God, demanding that He give her the babies she longed for. Didn't she and Del belong to Him? Didn't the Bible say that children were a blessing? Why would He withhold such a blessing from two of His own?

  "The good Lord doesn't owe you an explanation," her mother had told her at the time.

  Those weren't words Miriam had accepted with grace. She'd fought their truth for a long, long time.

  But You've given me a love for children, Lord, and I'm thankful. Help me to be an example to others. Let me be there to listen and counsel when a parent might not be heard.

  Lately, Miriam had given some thought to getting a college degree. Her mother had been a wonderful teacher, such a tremendous influence on young lives. Perhaps teaching children was where God was calling her.

  Is it, Lord?

  She knew Del would support her if that was what she wanted. He wouldn't ask where the money would come from for her tuition. He'd simply work harder, dig deeper, do whatever was needed.

  A wave of nausea caused her to stop walking and cover her mouth with one gloved hand. For a moment or two, she feared she'd be sick right there. Her eyes watered and the bile burned the back of her throat.

  What if something's terribly wrong with me? Like Mother. What if—?

  She swallowed hard, then hurried onward, eager for her home, her bed, and a dose of the medicine her dad had given her.

  "You won't be sorry you did this." Jacob stuffed the signed papers into his briefcase.

  "I hope not," Del answered, thinking about the additional premiums to pay every quarter.

  "It's extra peace of mind. If anything happens to you, Miriam'll be financially secure. Remember, insurance is never a waste if you have it, but it's always a tragedy when you don't."

  "You're a born salesman. You know that?"

  "I'll take that as a compliment." Jacob rose from his chair. "Miriam's not in the store today?"

  "No, I told her to rest up for tonight."

  "What's tonight?"

  The two men headed for the door of the cramped office in the back o
f the five-and-dime.

  Del answered, "The harvest dance at the high school."

  "Couple of suckers, that's what you are. You don't even have kids, and you stick yourselves with a bunch of teens on a Saturday night. You won't catch me doing stuff like that until I'm forced to."

  Something—a quiet urging in his spirit—caused Del to reach out and place his hand on Jacob's shoulder, stopping him before he opened the office door. "Is everything all right with you?"

  "Yeah." Jacob scowled. "What wouldn't be all right?"

  "I don't know. You seem . . . " He shrugged, letting the explanation die unfinished.

  For a moment, Jacob's facade slipped a bit, giving Del a glimpse of hidden pain and anger. Then the mask snapped back into place.

  Jacob grinned. "You worry too much, Del." He yanked open the office door. "Tell Miriam hi for me. Hope the two of you have a good time at the school, but I still say you're crazy." He waved without looking back over his shoulder. "I'll bring you the policy when it comes in."

  Del remained in the office doorway, watching as Jacob made his way down the center aisle, greeting people as he went, smiling and looking happy.

  But it was all an act, Del realized. Jacob's jocular manner was part of his salesman persona. Inside, he was hurting. He wondered if Jacob talked to Miriam about his unhappiness.

  Maybe he should ask her.

  Sally stared at her reflection in the mirror and wanted to cry. For some reason, she'd thought this dress and the two hours she'd spent that afternoon at Patty's Pinups, getting a new hairdo, would transform her into a beauty queen. They hadn't.

  Why can't I be prettier? Hadley was going to take one look at her and break their date. She knew it.

  She still hadn't figured out why he'd turned his attentions to her. Up until last month, she hadn't thought he'd known she existed. Now he spoke to her in the halls at school, and he was taking her to the harvest dance.

  What if I step on his toes? What if I trip and fall?

  "Sally!" her mom called from the living room. "Your young man's here."

  She was mortified. It was absolutely deathsville. How could her mom call Hadley Abernathy her young man, right in front of him?

  With her hands clenched, she walked out of her bedroom, praying silently that she wouldn't make a complete fool of herself before the night was over.

  "Care to dance, Mrs. Tucker?" Del whispered in Miriam's ear when a familiar slow melody began to play.

  "I'd love to."

  The high school gymnasium was decorated with dried cornstalks, bales of hay, and plenty of orange pumpkins. In the dimmed lights, it looked festive. But no amount of decorating could change the poor acoustics or remove that faint scent of sweaty gym socks.

  "You're the prettiest girl at the dance, Miriam Tucker."

  She smiled. "And you're, like, the most."

  Del laughed aloud, drawing the gazes of several young couples dancing nearby.

  Miriam turned her head and placed her cheek against his shoulder. Through half-closed eyes, she watched pairs of students moving around the gym floor in time to the music. She knew most of them, either from church or the soda fountain at the five-and-dime. She'd baby-sat a few of them when she was a teen and they were in diapers, a fact she wouldn't hesitate to use if she needed to put some in their places.

  Cruel, but effective.

  She caught sight of Sally Pritchett and Hadley Abernathy, dancing nearby.

  BEHOLD, SATAN DEMANDED TO HAVE YOU, THAT HE MIGHT SIFT YOU LIKE WHEAT.

  Miriam felt a disquiet as the words came to her heart.

  What are You telling me, Lord?

  She lifted her head from Del's shoulder, continuing to watch Sally and Hadley. The girl looked nervous, a bit stiff and unsure of herself—and totally captivated by the boy who held her. Hadley, on the other hand, wore an air of confidence. And something else. Something she couldn't quite define. Something almost . . . predatory.

  Miriam shuddered. Keep Sally safe, Father.

  "Honey?" Del said softly. "You okay?"

  "Yes," she replied without taking her eyes from the young couple.

  "Hey, remember me?" Her husband's arm tightened.

  She looked at him then. "Does it surprise you that Sally's here with the Abernathy boy?"

  "Should it?"

  "I don't know." She glanced over Del's left shoulder at the pair in question. "I just don't know."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "MOMMY!" VICTORIA SCREAMED. "VAL PULLED MY HAIR."

  "She pulled mine first!"

  From her bedroom, Elaine called, "Vicky, Val, behave yourselves."

  There were a few moments of silence, then a bloodcurdling screech ripped through the McAllister household.

  Jacob muttered some vile words he'd learned in the service, then rose from his easy chair and stormed toward the children's bedroom.

  "What's going on in here?" he bellowed, slamming the door against the wall as he entered.

  His red-haired daughters released their hold on each other and jumped back.

  "I swear, I'll tan your backsides until you can't sit down for a month of Sundays."

  "But she—"

  "I didn't—"

  He took a threatening stride forward, arm raised. "Shut up, the both of you!"

  They burst into tears just as their mother entered the bedroom.

  "Jacob, what are you doing?" She hurried toward the weeping girls.

  "I'm restoring a bit of order. That's a father's job, isn't it? You sure don't do it."

  Elaine stopped and spun about. For a heartbeat, she stared at him, wide-eyed. Then her expression went cold. "Since when have you acted like a father?"

  The urge to strike his wife was nearly overwhelming.

  She must have seen it, for she said, "Go ahead. Hit me."

  Resentment burned hot and furious. He resented Elaine for all of his unrealized dreams, for everything that had gone wrong in his life.

  "Why don't you get out, Jacob? Go drink with your boss. Why stay around here and make all of us miserable, too?"

  He felt his lip curl. "Maybe I should get out for good."

  "Yes," she said, "maybe you should."

  That took Jacob by surprise. Then his anger returned, even hotter than before. He longed to call her a string of names that would express everything he felt.

  More softly, she said, "There's a suitcase under the bed. Why don't you pack your things?"

  "Don't tempt me."

  "I don't mean to tempt you, Jacob. I'm telling you to leave. I want a divorce."

  Those words hit him like a sucker punch. "Elaine, I—"

  "Why torture yourself any longer?" she said with no emotion, no sign of tears. Nothing. "Why torture the kids and me? You don't like being a family man, so why pretend?"

  He glanced at the twins. They stared at him with frightened, confused expressions. "I never said I don't like being a family man. I—"

  "Yes, you did." Elaine sighed. "You've said it in a thousand different ways."

  He wasn't a perfect husband or father. He'd never claimed to be. But divorce?

  "I'm sure you can bunk over at Mooney's for a night or two. Or maybe Frank Gresham would let you stay with him." Her voice faltered as she turned away, saying, "Or you could always see if Miriam would take you in."

  He followed her out of the children's room. "Elaine, let's be reasonable."

  She didn't say a word. Just walked into their bedroom, knelt on the floor, and pulled a battered brown suitcase from beneath the bed. She rose again and placed it on the mattress. Then she met his gaze. "Whatever you don't take now you can get later."

  "For crying out loud, Elaine. It's Sunday afternoon. I can't go barging in on people and tell them I need a place to stay. This is my home!" He threw up his arms in frustration.

  "Your home?" She stepped toward him, fire replacing ice. "When have you treated it like a home? When was the last time you wanted to spend time with me instead of Mooney or one of y
our other drinking buddies? I'm not the baby-sitter. I'm your wife!"

  He leaned forward. "Well, you won't be my wife if we get a divorce."

  "Good."

  He swore.

  The ice returned. "You'll need a warm coat. It's going to snow some more." She walked past him. "Lock the door on your way out."

  Grace Finch called on the pretext of discussing the All Saints Community Church's Christmas pageant. But it wasn't long before she got around to her real purpose.

  "Have you heard the news, Miriam? Elaine McAllister threw Jacob out this afternoon. Theodora told me he's staying with her and Mooney for a few days. I don't suppose he knows where he'll be living after the divorce goes through. Poor Theodora. As if she needed that young man underfoot. I know you've always been friends with Jacob, but really. Why, the way he . . . "

  Miriam stopped listening as Grace droned on.

  Jacob, what have you done?

  She knew he hadn't been happy lately, but she'd had no idea things had deteriorated to this level. A divorce? Those poor children. Poor Elaine.

  Miriam's heart ached.

  "Well, if my husband acted like that, I would—"

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Finch. I've got to hang up now. Thanks for calling. I'll get back to you about the pageant. Good-bye."

  She set the handset in its cradle, knowing she'd been rude but not caring. If she'd had to listen to one more word of gossip, she would have said something she shouldn't. She knew she would have.

  Miriam crossed the kitchen and stared out the window over the sink into the backyard, but her thoughts went much further, back through the years. So many memories of Jacob, some warm and wonderful, some poignant.

  They'd weathered their momentary error in judgment on D day. Neither of them had mentioned the unfortunate kiss they'd shared. It was better left forgotten. Besides, with both of them happily married, there'd been no reason to give it another thought.

  Only, the McAllisters weren't happy. That had been apparent for a long while now.