Mr. Right Goes Wrong

by Pamela Morsi

  At the usual time he went upstairs for his father’s shower, but he didn’t linger. This was Clark’s day. He and Sheila would bring the children for a visit and he didn’t want to get in the way of that. He didn’t want either of them to hang on to the idea that “Dad wasn’t lonely because Eli was there.” His father’s world had become very, very small. He needed both his sons. He needed his granddaughters. It was crazy that Clark couldn’t see that. It felt like a willful blindness, but Eli determinedly chalked it up to competing priorities.

  He went down to his shop and tried to get some work done, though he didn’t typically work on the weekends. He thought it was important to do something else, think about something else, in order to keep his life in balance. But he’d been spending most of his brain cells on his strategy for winning Mazy. It was a salve to his spirit to concentrate on the music cabinet that was taking shape on his worktable. Even in its ordinary poplar, it had a delicate form that belied its strength. He wished he could show it to Mazy. He wished that she could appreciate it the way he did. But, of course, she wouldn’t. It was only a raw wood piece. It wouldn’t catch the eye of a nonwoodworker until he’d applied the lacquer finish to the veneer. People always oohed and aahed at the final product. But for Eli, the process of making something beautiful and functional from the remains of forest vegetation was equally as amazing.

  It was a little after one when he retrieved his sandwich from the shop’s minifridge and took a lunch break. It was a kind of “working lunch” as he made notes on the cabinet’s process. Keeping records on every piece he made was one of the few things he did differently than his father.

  He’d learned so much from working alongside his dad that he had been way ahead of most of the students at the North Bennet School. He hadn’t actually considered taking classes. Doing the work was the best teacher, he’d thought. But after that first summer and the bad breakup with Mazy, his father had insisted.

  Under virtual protest, Dad had packed him onto a train for Boston. The two-year program with some of the premier furniture craft faculty in the world had honed his skills and altered his style. It had also allowed him to grow up and get over his loss.

  He’d returned to Brandt Mountain as a more mature man, eager to work and heartbreak completely healed. That lasted until Mazy was back in town and the two of them started up once more. Until she’d dumped him for another man...again.

  The sound of a car caught his attention and Eli glanced through the window to see Clark, driving Sheila’s minivan, pull up in the driveway of the shop, near the back door to the house. The whole family got out. The girls were in matching sweaters. He could see Sheila’s mouth moving as she talked a mile a minute. Clark glanced down toward the shop as if considering that direction instead of the house.

  “Don’t do it,” Eli whispered aloud. “Go see him!”

  As if his words were transmitted telepathically, Clark sighed heavily and turned to follow his wife and girls into the home he’d grown up in.

  Finished with his notes and his sandwich, Eli got back to work feeling more optimistic about his dad and his brother. Those two needed time to get over the past and forge a new relationship together, before there was no time left to do that.

  Eli laid the pieces of the constructed cabinet down on the workbench. He’d chosen the wood for the doors very carefully. He planned to do the veneer in a cracked ice pattern. To make such a complex surface attach properly and remain solidly in place for a hundred years, the graining of the base wood was important. No amount of adhesive, hot irons or pressure could make up for a sketchy substrate. Eli had personally hand-planed the pieces, wanting to fully familiarize himself with the unique characteristics and spot any flaws in the board that might need to be taken in consideration. Understanding the positives and negatives of each poplar rectangle, he laid out the doors across the cabinet in the order that seemed most likely to enhance the structural foundation.

  In some ways, it was like a big puzzle. He set all parts of the door out. Then stood back and surveyed. He made a couple of changes and surveyed again. When he was completely satisfied with his choices, he grabbed the pencil that he’d tucked above his ear and began labeling. To his way of thinking, it was a waste of brain space to keep anything in your head that was easy enough to write down.

  Outside, he heard the chatter of children and looked out the front window. Clark and Sheila were leaving. Eli glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes exactly. He sighed aloud.

  Not already.

  Sheila must have their weekly visitation on a timer, he thought unkindly.

  It was not Sheila’s fault, he reminded himself. Somehow it felt easier to blame his brother’s failings on his sister-in-law. But Clark was responsible for his own shortcomings. It was just too bad that his wife was amenable to aiding and abetting the least generous of his tendencies.

  He worked until after four and then made his way back to his place, where he puttered around. He turned the TV on, but only half watched the Tar Heels versus NC State. He kept imagining what he might be doing if he and Mazy were more like he wished they could be.

  They could have spent the whole day together. Maybe they would have driven down to Blowing Rock for some fresh air and great views. And then he would have taken her to the Best Cellar for a candlelight dinner with crab cakes and roast duckling. Between bites they would gaze at each other across the table. He wouldn’t even have to say that he was in love with her. She’d be able to read it in his eyes. But he would say it. He would say it and he wouldn’t have to cover it up with some pseudojerk behavior.

  Loser!

  If he did something like that now, he’d be more than a loser, he would lose her. Tad the Cad was just waiting in the wings to sweep her out of Eli’s life.

  “Stay strong,” he admonished himself.

  On that night, staying strong included eating leftovers alone and over the sink.

  His phone rang twice. He ignored it both times.

  In case she popped over, he shrugged into his coat and went upstairs to hang out with his dad and Ida.

  They were glad to see him. Ida even fed him a slice of sweet potato pie that she’d baked. The crust was kind of doughy, but it wasn’t completely bad.

  The three of them sat in the living room. Dad in his recliner. Ida in her chair. And Eli on the sofa. His stepmother kept up a steady stream of conversation, filling him in on virtually every word that was spoken by either Clark or Sheila on their visit, which weren’t many, and relating every cute and adorable thing that Ashley or Ava had said or done. Ida clearly adored the girls. And even if Sheila had explained that “grandma” was her own mother and that Ida was simply Ida, Ashley had taken to calling her Grandma Ida and little Ava was now doing the same.

  As Ida talked about the children, Eli shot a glance toward his father. He couldn’t really smile anymore. His expression always remained almost frozen in a grimace. But he could see somehow in his more relaxed countenance that he’d enjoyed the visit and was relishing Ida’s recounting of it.

  The conversation waned as the two seniors paid attention to their favorite TV program. Chatter was relegated to commercial breaks. Fortunately for Eli, there weren’t that many on public television.

  “So I hear that you and Mazy are keeping company again,” Ida said.

  Eli shot a glance toward his father, who was eyeing him with interest.

  “Did Dad tell you that?” he joked.

  “Sheila did,” Ida answered. “Truthfully, your sister-in-law didn’t have much good to say about your choices in female companionship.”

  Eli shrugged. “She’s dating me, not Sheila.”

  Ida nodded slowly. “So you two are dating?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t know much about that
sort of thing,” Ida said. “I had a few fellows call on me when I was in my teens. But for most of the little dating I did in my life, I was older and stepping out with Jonah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Seems to me,” she continued, “that on a nice Saturday night like this one, with a big harvest moon in the sky, Jonah would have had me dancing my feet off until midnight and then we’d move to a cheek-to-cheek hug and sway until they closed the joint down.”

  His father make a sound that to Eli seemed pretty close to a chortle.

  “Ida, I could never in a million years be the dancer my father is.”

  “A woman doesn’t really care how well you dance, she’s enjoying being held in your arms. Do that to music or do it to a baseball game. But on a Saturday night, you’d better be doing it. Not sitting with a pair of old-timers watching thirty-year-old reruns of The Lawrence Welk Show.”

  Eli shrugged. “I’m playing hard to get.”

  “Are you now?” Ida’s reply included a raised eyebrow.

  The middle-aged band leader returned to the small screen and announced a number with Bobby and Cissy. They all watched the ever-twirling, ever-smiling couple, Eli believing the discussion on his dating life done.

  However, at the very next break, Ida returned to her commentary.

  “You may be right about not making things so easy for her,” his stepmother said. “It’s human nature to value those things that we have to struggle for and take for granted those things that seem to fall naturally into our hands. You’ve been pretty easy pickings in the past.”

  “Too easy,” Eli agreed. “This time around, if Mazy wants me, she’s going to have to make an effort.”

  Ida nodded sagely. “Well, as I said, I’m no expert. But I think it’s worth pointing out that people are not things. When couples come together, it’s for big reasons. Sometimes more than they believe. And the person who is right for you is exactly the one that makes you become who heaven intended you to be.”

  Eli considered that. With a quick glance toward his father he replied, “That’s what I’m counting on. And I’m hoping she’ll be a quick learner.”

  Ida turned back to the television, as if she had said all that she intended. But Eli heard her murmur, “You might have a thing or two to learn, as well.”

  He stayed long enough to get his dad into bed. Ida packed up a piece of leftover pie as a thank-you.

  Outside on the back porch, the night was crisp and cool. He could see the lights on at Beth Ann’s house, but the shades were down, concealing the activities of the inhabitants. Was she sitting by the phone? Puttering in the kitchen? Surfing the internet? He wanted to share her every moment. He wanted to know her every thought.

  Maybe someday they could do that. But tonight, as Ida had put it, he needed to teach her how to be the woman that she was meant to be, the woman that could love him.

  With a determined sigh, he took an unnecessary walk down to the shop and around the sheds. Bright moonlight bathed the area away from the trees with a silvery gleam. He checked the doors, which, of course, were all secured, and wasted as much time as possible dawdling around the storage. If they were going to keep unsold pieces in there, it really should be climate controlled. Last year he’d brought what he had down to his apartment. But that was really no solution. This year he’d need to rent storage and he needed to do it soon. There wasn’t anything local. Maybe he could get Clark to check out what was the best, closest choice.

  When Eli had wasted all the time he could outside, he went into his apartment and walked the floor. He checked his watch every two minutes.

  It was still too early. It had to be later to be obvious.

  He decided that this must be what it was like to be a smoker trying to cut back. Anxious, pacing, watching the clock. He didn’t like it.

  Finally at one minute after ten, he decided it was time. Then he waited five more minutes, just to be sure.

  Taking a deep breath, and steeling his determination, he walked to the phone. He dialed her cell number.

  “Hul-lo.” She sounded groggy.

  “Are you asleep?”

  “Oh, hi. Hi! No, no, I’m awake. I guess I drifted off in front of the TV. But I’m awake now. What...what time is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he lied. “It’s maybe ten, ten-thirty.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “You want to come over?”

  She hesitated. “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Uh, well, okay.”

  “Great, I’ll leave the door open.”

  He hung up before another word could be said. He let out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it, and shook his head. It was easier than he’d thought. He walked over and unlocked his door. Then he walked through the basement turning out all the lights until it was completely dark, except for the lamp on his bedside table.

  In a quick trip to the bathroom, he brushed his teeth. But he mussed, rather than combed, his hair. He stripped himself naked and climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up to his waist.

  With a little sigh of satisfaction, he congratulated himself. “Eli Latham, you are now stud enough to booty call with the worst of the bad boys.”

  23

  Mazy had gotten home from Eli’s place at three in the morning. She’d left him satisfied and sleepy in that big wonderfully warm bed as she’d braved the dark night and the cold air to return to her mother’s house. Once again she lured herself to dreamland on the lumpy couch by promising to loll about in slumber until noon. Unfortunately, by seven-thirty that morning’s preparations for church attendance were in progress.

  “I can’t make you go,” Beth Ann said, her tone scolding. “Although you should. But I insist that Tru will accompany me and I won’t accept any arguments on that.”

  Her son was giving her his this-is-all-your-fault glare. So she returned a big, incongruous smile.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she told them both. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  In truth, it wasn’t too bad. Her memory of the congregation looking down their collective noses at her and insisting that she exhibit shame was apparently now out of fashion. Person after person welcomed her as if she were a long-lost friend. Maybe that’s what they thought she was.

  She’d kept her head down in Sunday school class where the discussion about first century gender politics was worthy of a number of eye rolls.

  Pastor Blick’s sermon, on the other hand, was cerebral and academic. Though the man had been with the church for over a year, he was still being referred to as “the new preacher.” His kinder, less strident message was a stark contrast to the fire and brimstone of his predecessor during her teen years.

  On the whole, everything had gone rather smoothly. As they filed out, a tiny, mouselike person timidly buttonholed her in the vestibule.

  “So sorry to bother,” she said. “But if I could talk to you for just a second. I know it’s Sunday, but I...I don’t know what to do.”

  The woman bit her lip as her eyes welled up.

  Mazy quickly motioned for Beth Ann and Tru to go ahead of her and she led the younger woman into the relative privacy of the deacon’s coatroom.

  “I thought you might be here, because your mama always comes,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure.”

  The woman was gaunt and pale. Lines of worry marred a face that couldn’t have been much more than twenty. Her clothes, while clean and neat, were bordering on threadbare.

  “I’m sorry,” Mazy said. “I don’t really remember you. I’m sure you were still a kid when I was here last.”

  The young woman dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I’m Nina Garvey. I used to be Nina Pryor. I was in third grade when you...when you had your boy. Of course, I remember you better than yo
u remember me.”

  That was undoubtedly true. Her name was slightly familiar but her face was not.

  “I...I got knocked up in high school, too. So I always thought we had something in common. Maybe not something good, but something.”

  Mazy’s eyebrows went up. Perhaps she should suggest they start their own special interest group, High School Knock-Ups of Faith Presbyterian. It had a certain ring to it. Or maybe it was a discordant clang. Vaguely she wondered if the congregation had treated Nina differently than they had her. She wouldn’t have been surprised. Nina seemed so small and vulnerable. Mazy always pretended she could take care of herself.

  “Being a mom is totally worth it, right?”

  It was a platitude, but a good one. Nina nodded agreement and looked as if she felt a little better.

  “Jeremy is five. He thinks he’s a big boy now that he’s started off to kindergarten.”

  Mazy hoped her expression didn’t betray her astonishment. This petite little person looked way too young to have a child that age. She supposed that was how she appeared once herself.

  “Time goes fast,” Mazy said. “Did you see my son? One day you can cover him with a dishtowel and the next time you look up he’s six feet tall.”

  The chatty conversation had allowed Nina to regain her composure.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Mazy asked.

  “I...I got that letter from you. And then my mom got a phone call and...Mom says it’s all on me and it’s time I learn to fend for myself, but I don’t know what to do.”

  Like a lightbulb appearing over a cartoon figure, Mazy immediately realized why the name was familiar. Garvey. New car loan. Seventeen thousand dollars, plus change.

  “You owe money to the bank,” she stated for verification.

  “My husband does...did. My husband did. He...he passed away.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mazy told her soberly.