by Alice Duncan
“Did you enjoy the church service at the Salvation Army, Flossie?” Not very delicate, but I was too worn out to practice subtlety. Anyhow, Flossie wasn’t apt to understand anything that wasn’t set plainly before her.
“Yeah,” she said, but I noticed her head was bowed and appeared kind of unhappy.
Reaching across the counter, I took her hand. The gesture surprised me more than it did Flossie, I think. “What’s the matter, Flossie?”
She sighed deeply. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that ...”
I waited, but she didn’t continue. “It’s just that what?” I withdrew my hand, wondering what had possessed me to grab it in the first place.
She hesitated some more, then burst out with her whispered confession, the nature of which didn’t surprise me since I’d already surmised she was a victim of what the magazines call low self-esteem. “It’s just that I’m not good enough for them people.”
“Nonsense. You’re every bit as good as any of them, Flossie Mosser. Why, Johnny Buckingham himself had all sorts of troubles after the war. He was there in the trenches in France, just like Billy. But while Billy got shot and gassed during the war, Johnny started having problems afterwards. He got so low, he even tried to kill himself.” I’d just then remembered that part of Johnny’s sordid saga, and I’m glad I did because it jarred Flossie.
“No!”
“Yes. In fact, Johnny was about as low as a person can get. I’m telling you this because Johnny’s story is pretty common. I mean, he’s not the only one who was shell-shocked and had terrible problems after that wretched war, and it’s a darned shame. Johnny took to drink, Flossie.”
Her mouth fell open. “No!”
“Yes. In fact, he himself says that he was a dipsomaniac, and the booze would have killed him if not for the Salvation Army. That’s the reason he loves it so much. The Army doesn’t turn people away just because they have problems. They accept everyone and try to help them with their troubles.” Inspiration, which had a hard time struggling to the surface of my sleep-deprived brain, finally poked its head out. “Not only that, but I think Johnny really likes you.”
Darned if Flossie didn’t blush again. “Naw. He couldn’t.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “Look at you! Why, you’re a lovely young woman, Flossie Mosser, and you’re sweet and kind and ...” And easily led astray and currently involved with a vicious hoodlum. But I didn’t want to bring those distasteful facts up that day. “And you have good, kindly instincts.” Okay, the ending was feeble, but the rest of the speech was pretty good.
Flossie blinked several times. She’d have spoken if the waitress hadn’t delivered our lunches: tuna salad sandwich for me and corned beef for Flossie, along with green river floats, which were exclusive to that counter, as far as I know. I don’t know what was in them, but they were green, and they were good.
After taking a bite of my sandwich, which was served with potato chips, I leaned toward Flossie. “I know Johnny is taken with you, Flossie. Don’t you think you could care for him, too?” I hoped I wasn’t wrong about Johnny’s interest in her, but I didn’t think I was. In actual fact, I was kind of afraid Johnny was seeing things in sweet Flossie that weren’t really there but that he was hoping were. Although, come to think of it, Flossie was so eager to please, and Johnny was such an overall good guy, she’d probably blossom into whatever he thought she was. If you know what I mean.
Flossie didn’t respond for the longest time. I was about to prod her, when she whispered, “I do care for him. I think I love him.”
Thank God! I didn’t say that out loud. I said, “Well, then, that’s good.”
“Huh.”
I glanced sharply at her. “What do you mean, ‘huh’? What does that mean?”
She put down her sandwich and took a sip of her Green River. “I gotta get away from Jinx first.”
“I’ll bet Johnny can help with that.”
She turned so precipitately, I darned near fell off my counter stool. “No! Oh, no, Daisy, I don’t want Johnny nowhere near Jinx. Jinx is bad. He might hurt Johnny.”
I have to admit that possibility hadn’t occurred to me. “Hmm. Well, I think we should talk to Johnny about that. I’m pretty sure he could help you.”
After a huge pause, during which I finished my sandwich and munched my chips and Flossie did nothing but stare blankly into space—I darned near grabbed half of her corned beef, but restrained myself—she finally said, “Well ... maybe.”
I guess it was better than a flat never, but I still wanted to hit her. I think that was because I’d been under a lot of strain lately.
Flossie was spared a taste of my uneven temper, however, by the appearance of none other than Johnny Buckingham! He was in his uniform, so I guess he and his army band had been out and about on Colorado Boulevard, but he was alone in Rexall Drugs when I spotted him.
Leaping from my stool, I hollered, “Johnny! Over here!” He’d been heading toward the side of the store where they carried bandages and foot plasters and stuff like that. I guess marching along Colorado Boulevard all day every day makes your feet ache. He—along with nearly everyone else in the store—turned and spotted me. A huge smile spread over his face, and he waved and began making his way to the lunch counter. I was so glad to see him. And not only because I wanted him to rescue Flossie, either. I’d started feeling guilty about abandoning my sick husband.
“Well, fancy seeing you two here,” he said as he took a stool next to Flossie. “How’s Billy, Daisy?”
“He’s getting better, thank God.”
“Thank God,” said Johnny, and I knew that for him the expression wasn’t merely what everyone says when they’re glad about something.
“In fact,” said I, thinking as fast as my sluggish noggin could think, “I really need to get back to him. Say, Johnny, are you here for lunch? Flossie hasn’t finished hers yet, and if you could sit with her while you eat your own, I could get back to Billy.” Sneaky little devil, aren’t I?
“That sounds like a great idea to me,” said Johnny, grinning like an imp.
“Oh, but ...” Flossie looked scared.
“Nuts,” I said. “You need to finish your lunch, and I need to get back to Billy. I’ll see you both later.” I tossed the money Pa had given me on the counter. “Pay the lady out of this, will you please? I think there’s enough for you, too, Johnny.”
It was definitely enough for three lunches, and Johnny smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Daisy. That’s real nice of you.”
“It’s nothing.” It was nothing to me, at any rate, and I figured Pa wouldn’t mind.
And with that, I abandoned Flossie and hurried back to my formerly abandoned husband. Sometimes life just works out. Not, unfortunately, very often.
Chapter Fourteen
By the end of the second week of Billy’s illness, he was able to get out of bed and get around the house in his wheelchair. It looked to me as though the days of helping him learn to walk again were over, at least for a good long while. Even maneuvering himself around in his chair exhausted him.
“Wish I weren’t such a burden to you, Daisy,” he mumbled one day when we both sat on the front porch.
March had limped in, and the weather had turned almost balmy. The gentle breezes brought leftover scents from the rainstorm we’d had the night before. Pretty soon the orange trees would begin to blossom, and then the air would be fragrant enough to make a sensitive person faint dead away from ecstasy. I’m not that sensitive, but I still love the aroma of orange blossoms. They always reminded me of my wedding, memories of which almost always made me cry.
Crumb.
“Stop it, Billy. You’re not a burden. Anyhow, if our situations were reversed, you’d take care of me, wouldn’t you?”
“You bet I would,” he said, taking my hand. “I can’t imagine my life without you, Daisy.”
To keep from bursting into tears and ruining the moment, I chuckled weakly. “Yeah, we’ve known each other
for a long time, haven’t we?”
He chuckled, too, although not for long. I held my breath for the duration, praying that he wouldn’t start coughing. “I’ll never forget how you used to chase after me when we were kids.”
“I loved you then, too.” It was true. I’d had a “pash” for Billy ever since he was in fourth grade and I was in second. He was just the perfect guy in those days. And he still was—or he would have been if his health hadn’t been ruined.
“Yeah?” He grinned at me.
“Yeah.” I grinned back.
And wouldn’t you know it? At that very sensitive moment, who should pull up in his big ugly Hudson motorcar but Sam Rotondo. I muttered something indelicate under my breath.
Billy raised a hand and waved. He’d have hollered out a “Hey, Sam,” but he didn’t have the breath.
As he walked jauntily up the front walkway, Sam removed his hat and smiled broadly at my husband. “Good to see you up and about, Billy!”
“Up, anyway,” said Billy with a grin.
Sam plopped himself on the porch rail. Then he frowned at me. He would. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to get that séance set up pretty quick, Daisy.”
I groaned inside. Since I didn’t want to upset Billy, I didn’t let my groan loose into the world. “Yeah?”
“I don’t like Daisy being involved with those guys, Sam.”
“Me, neither,” I muttered, knowing that to protest would be useless. It was play with the crooks or go to jail. Sam had made that perfectly clear to me already.
“I don’t like it either, Billy, but she’s about the only in we have with those guys.”
“I don’t see why,” I said in spite of knowing it would do no good. “You know where they are and what they’re doing. Why don’t you just raid the place?”
Sam sighed as if he’d already gone over this issue with me already and didn’t want to have to do it again. “We need to know that all the big shots will be there. Usually only Maggiori’s employees are at the speak. They’ll all be there for the séance.”
“Oh.” I hated to admit it, but that made sense even to me. “I guess so.”
Billy still didn’t like it. I could tell by his stony face.
“So let me know as soon as you set up the séance. All right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess.”
“Hey, I brought you guys something,” Sam said, his mood lightening. He reached into his coat and withdrew an advertising brochure. “We talk about these things all the time, and I just picked this up downtown.”
I almost could have thanked Sam for removing the expression of severe disapproval from my husband’s face. When Billy took a gander at the brochure, he lit up like a firecracker. “Oh, boy, Daisy, look at this! It’s all about radio signal receiving sets.”
If there was anything less interesting to me than radio signal receiving sets, I can’t imagine what it might be, although I feigned joy for Billy’s sake. “My goodness!”
“Look at this,” said Sam, bending over and pointing at what looked like a bundle of wires and a strange-looking box. “It says here that if you set these things up right, you can get signals from all over the country. All over the world, someday, they say.”
“Wow.” Billy stared at the strange drawing, entranced.
I couldn’t see the point myself. Not that I wanted to rain on anybody’s parade or anything. Still, I said, “Um, what will you hear if you pick up signals?” Just curious. That’s me.
Billy glanced at me as if he couldn’t believe I’d asked such a stupid question. “What can you hear? Why, eventually, you’ll be able to hear everything!”
I still didn’t get it. “Like what? I mean, what will you hear all over the world? Or the country? Or wherever?”
Sam looked at me as if he couldn’t believe I’d said such a stupid thing, either, but wanted to humor me for Billy’s sake. “Music. Baseball games. Things like that.”
I glanced from him to the drawing once more. It still looked like a box and wires to me. Still, I was willing to give it a chance. “You mean that with that thing, you’ll be able to hear an orchestra play in ... in New York City?”
“Sure,” said Billy, wide-eyed and happy. I was glad of that, anyhow.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “And maybe someday, you’ll be able to hear plays and stuff like that, too.”
Puzzled but game, I said, “Um ... and will you be able to hear anybody anywhere? Just because you have one of these things?”
I think Sam was beginning to understand my befuddlement. “Well, not unless the orchestra or whatever is set up to send a signal.”
“Oh.” I was still confused but didn’t feel like talking about that sort of thing any longer. Besides, I heard the telephone ringing in the kitchen. With a sigh, I got up, fearing what that ring foretold. “I’ll let you two talk about this stuff. I’ve got to get the wire.”
My premonition of disaster (we spiritualists are good at these types of things) proved to be correct. On the other end of the wire was Mrs. Kincaid, hysterical as usual.
“Oh, Daisy!”
I rolled my eyes. “Good morning, Mrs. Kincaid.”
“Oh, it’s not! It’s not! I’m just beside myself!”
Beside herself, was she? Did that mean there were now two of her? Heaven forfend! At least she wasn’t beside me.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Kincaid. Perhaps if you sat very still and let your mind go blank”—which shouldn’t be too darned hard for you, thought I nastily—“then the spirits will be able to soothe you and offer you guidance.”
You’ll notice that I didn’t instantly volunteer to rush over there with my various bags of tricks (tarot cards, crystal ball, Ouija board, Rolly). I was tired after two weeks of worry over whether or not my husband would survive his latest illness, and the silliness of Mrs. Kincaid and her ilk didn’t sit well with me just then. Not, of course, that I was going to tell her that. I still needed to earn a living, after all.
“I’ve tried, Daisy,” she said piteously. “I’ve tried so hard. But something has happened that terrifies me!”
Egad. This sounded serious, although I wasn’t going to take anything Mrs. Kincaid said as fact without checking it out first. “The spirits haven’t helped you?” What a shock. “Are you sure you’ve emptied your mind and meditated on them?” It shouldn’t be too difficult for her to empty her mind since there was so little in it.
“Yes, yes!” she sobbed.
Knowing the reason for her present state of alarm, but faintly hoping, I asked, “Is it Stacy?”
A wail that nearly split my eardrums preceded her, “Yes! Yes! Oh, Daisy I don’t know what to do!”
I’d already thought of a whole bunch of things she could do to Stacy, but I’d never once mentioned them to Stacy’s mother, and I didn’t plan to begin now. When you looked at it one way, Stacy Kincaid provided me with a whole lot of my income. Therefore, I bit the bullet, sighing inside. I never let my sighs be heard by my clients. “Do you need me to come over, Mrs. Kincaid?”
“Oh, yes! But I know you’re taking care of your husband, Daisy, and I’d never ask you to desert him in his hour of need.”
Sure she wouldn’t.
Oh, very well, I was feeling particularly surly that day, probably because I was bone weary and Sam Rotondo was lurking right outside on my front porch. I tried to snap myself out of it, but snapping didn’t help. Therefore, I pretended. We spiritualists are good at that, too. “It would be no burden, Mrs. Kincaid. Billy is no longer in danger.” Or, to put it another way, the spirits, whoever they were, hadn’t snatched him away from me yet.
She sent a pathetic sniffle across the telephone wires, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t shooed any of the party-liners off the wire. Oh, well. I don’t suppose they’d mind this bit of human drama. Heck, it might make them feel better about their own lives to know that an incredibly wealthy woman was so idiotic.
“Are you sure, dear?”
“Yes, Mr
s. Kincaid.”
“Are you positive?”
Why do people do that? Of course I was sure, or I wouldn’t have offered. Would leaving Billy so soon after his brush with death bother me? Of course, it would. Would I do it anyway? You bet. It was the Mrs. Kincaids of this world who kept the Daisy Gumm Majestys of this world out of the poor house. Did I like it? No. So what? So nothing.
“It would be no bother at all, Mrs. Kincaid. I’ll be there in ...” I hesitated, trying to think of how soon I could get myself ready and drag myself out of the house. It took almost no time to powder my nose, brush my hair and slip into one of my spiritualist costumes, but I had to prepare myself mentally for the upcoming ordeal as well, and that would take some time. “. . . Um, I’ll be there in two hours. Will that be all right with you?”
She sobbed loudly. “Oh, thank you, Daisy! You’ll never know how much this means to me.”
I would if she gave me a big tip, which I expected she would. Therefore, I only said kindly, “Try not to worry too much, Mrs. Kincaid. Help is at hand.”
All right, so I lied. I made my living lying, as Billy so often pointed out. Nevertheless, it was a fine living, I was good at it, and, therefore, I would continue doing it until I didn’t have to any longer.
I put the receiver back, sighed deeply, looked at the kitchen clock—it was only nine in the morning—and shuffled back out to the porch, where I found Billy and Sam still engrossed in their radio signal receiving set. Pa and Spike had joined them by this time, and even Spike seemed interested. I guess it was something men liked. I couldn’t quite make myself care about radio signal receiving sets.
Billy looked up from the brochure. He saw my face, lifted his eyebrows, and said, “Mrs. Kincaid?”