2 Maid in the Shade

by Bridget Allison

  Lucy and Jared were seated at my kitchen table. As soon as they saw me they jumped up, relief etched in their faces.

  “I’m so sorry, Gretchen,” Lucy said in a fast almost indecipherable ramble. “After the second time you called to ask me to look after Mosey you sounded strained. I didn’t call Jared; he phoned to tell me they didn’t find a bacteria or virus that caused Mae’s death and he wanted me to let you know. And I just blurted out that you should have been back by now. It’s just with your past--I started getting worried that the stress had been too much for you. I know how you are about keeping people in the dark when something happens. But then there was the news that there might be a police cover up of some assaults on females downtown and we were sitting here trying to decide how freaked out we should be.”

  “YOU TOLD JARED about my past?”

  She held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture, “I only told him a little, very little,” she smiled weakly, “barely anything. So glad you’re safe, leaving now!”

  I wanted to throw something at her but before I could think of anything I wouldn’t miss, the door from the kitchen to the deck had slammed shut. Lucy was definitely bringing out a violent streak in me; or perhaps it had come about when I had to defend myself so tenaciously a few months back?

  I wondered how long this volatility would be a part of me. Lately it seemed I was always ready to defend myself against the mildest emotional and physical assaults. Maybe I did have “issues.”

  “This house has too many damn doors,” I said watching her streak away toward her golf cart. Then I turned to face Jared.

  He crossed the room in two strides and locked me in an embrace, or was this a hug? I pushed away from him trying to decide how I felt about that so soon after spending time with Ben.

  “I’m so relieved you’re okay,” he said. “Wait a minute, what did she mean she only told me part?”

  “Lucy told you enough and more of my business than she should have,” I said icily. “I really appreciate the concern but I’m beat.”

  “That’s all, you’re beat,” he said, his mood suddenly changing and sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I’ve been worried sick, sitting at this table for hours. I finally called a buddy at the Charlotte station. Then he said a Gretchen was meeting with the chief of police, how many Gretchens are there? I thought if you were raped after what happened to you as a kid...”

  “Look,” I said bitingly, “I didn’t involve you in this, I was not in danger. Lucy just went overboard, perhaps because I was almost murdered a couple of months ago? From now on I’ll hire a dog walker or find some kid in the neighborhood. Lucy has a big mouth.”

  My voice trailed off; somehow he was holding me again. I was mumbling into his shoulder and he was absently stroking my hair, until it fell out easily from my hasty job of pinning it up in the restroom before visiting Dallas.

  “You still haven’t told me where the hell have you been? Surely not visiting the chief of police this long? And what’s this? And this?” He asked pulling a piece of pine straw and afterwards a fragment of moss from my hair.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, half defensively, half to keep from smacking him. “I took a few hours off after my job uptown; I went out in the woods. I had fun.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Look buddy, we’ve never even dated, this is so not any of your business.” I took my hands out of my pockets and turning my back on him headed toward the main bathroom and turned on the faucets and closed the door.

  I was taking off my shirt, certain he had given up, when the bathroom door flung open causing me to shriek.

  “Jared, get out!”

  His face was set in a grim line as he held up that portion of the torn lace thong I had hastily stuffed in my pocket when Ben and I parted. It must have fallen out when I took my hands out of my pockets and headed off to take a shower. And he had to notice the hotel room key card that I had just emptied out of my breeches. Crap, maybe they could wait for it until I brought the drapery panel back.

  “Was this part of today’s entertainment?” He picked up the card holding it beside the bit of lace, “and this? A man and a hotel liaison, evidently. Why the hotel? Is he married? Or is it just convenient because he works downtown? A little nooner?” His tone was scathing.

  My jaw dropped, for a moment I could think of nothing at all to say. I don’t know how long I stood there, mouth open, “catching flies,” my aunt used to call it, while I was rendered speechless. Then I turned off the shower quickly as I felt a surge of that anger again and my words were as quick as an automatic weapon.

  “I don’t know what you think I owe you, from everything I can recall, you did your job and I must have done okay too because I got a lot of attention for my part in it. If I ever made your career, your life, whatever you’ve got going on more difficult I’m sorry. But I have no idea how many partners you’ve had, what shape your underwear is in, or why... Wait, maybe your act of giving me a phone makes you think you have some right to know where I am every waking moment. Just because it rings that doesn’t mean it is one.”

  Forgetting I was clad only in the incriminating matching bra with the riding pants I strode into the kitchen, grabbed my bag and found the phone he had given me after my old one’s untimely and inconvenient demise.

  I considered clearing it of all of its contents but I was so angry my hands were shaking. So I just tossed it at him. He caught it easily.

  “Gretchen don’t start acting crazy, you have to have a phone. It was a gift,” he said calming down. “What if you are in danger, what if you get a job and they can’t reach you? Or you get in trouble and can’t reach me? You’re right; there could be a million explanations for the torn panties and all the rest.”

  “It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m not explaining a thing. Think the worst and you are probably right. You know what? If I hosted an orgy today it would have nothing to do with you and it couldn’t possibly get me caught up to that slate of yours you wanted cleared.

  I may quit this job. I think after everything that’s happened today, I just might leave town. You did NOTHING to save me last time. I saved myself, I always save myself! And when I can’t? I live with it! I owe you NOTHING! Except the damn phone and we both know it was prelude to a conquest. You probably all made a bet on it at the sheriff’s department. Why don’t I sign those panties for them and you can call this game over? That’s another reason I could never be with you, you probably have enough trophies from your own escapades to fill a storage unit. You are such a hypocrite.”

  I stalked back to my bathroom leaving Jared in the kitchen looking astonished. Surely he would give up and go away. If he knew what was good for him he would take the phone. It was lucky I had kept the land line. Jared had been around women enough to realize when to walk away.

  I was still trembling a little when I decided to bathe upstairs. It was definitely time to call it a day.

  The bath was half full when I slipped into it. I wanted desperately to add bubble bath, or bath oil, but there was my hair to consider, so I washed and conditioned that first, then drained the tub a little and added gardenia bubbling bath oil.

  This was a therapeutic bath; I shower and shave my legs downstairs every morning. I relaxed and tried not to worry about all the threats and pronouncements I had made to the only two men in my life I had ever been seriously attracted to.

  Jared; well that whole thing was probably over now before it began but that was for the best. Of course I had more than a passing interest in him with his looks and easy charm. But he couldn’t hold a candle to what I had with Ben.

  Ben had made serious sacrifices to take care of me when I needed him, he changed jobs just to be near me, and I loved his mother. What more could you ask of a man? If I chose forever with anyone it would be with Ben. It would be so easy just to slip into that life.

  But how do you know if you’re running toward the right thing or if you are just on the run from a painful past and
picking the clearest path? I loved Bridle Springs, but would it be long before I yearned for a job that used my brain or missed the city thrumming with energy?

  I had power in my intellect and I knew Dallas would help me back onto that ladder. And wasn’t that what I had been meant for? Wasn’t that why I had a brain that could glance at numbers and find the patterns, the flaws, which not everyone could see? Since college I had meant to be that woman in the suit: The woman at the head of the conference table.

  I raised one leg ruefully and massaged my calf with oils. There was certainly no suit here, I was naked and perhaps a little raw, but I had tapped into something more primal when I ran to ground in Bridle Springs. Perhaps it wasn’t the heedless impulsive escape I had always thought it was; or a speedy flight from trauma and loss.

  In that skyscraper I had been admired, respected and a little feared by my peers until my disgraceful exodus. With the exception of one of the principles in the firm, Dallas, and for a time, Hugh, I had always been wary, with no cracks in the armor of my Armani.

  In Bridle Springs I had grown stronger in a different way. I had come to the town as a victim and become a survivor. I had lost that constant companion anxiety in this small world which valued gumption over poise. I had fallen from a skyscraper and been cradled by the boughs of a river oak.

  Somewhere between Charlotte and this tiny township I had tapped into an identity that wasn’t based on what I banked or how smart anyone thought I was. And this job was just that, a job, with some difficult parts that were always moving and changing. Numbers followed patterns, didn’t ask you questions, sob on your shoulder or hide what they were. The people I had worked with uptown considered it a badge of honor not to share personal histories, and usually only wanted yours if there was an unmined resource in it.

  This life demanded less of my brain and more of my soul and psyche. When I had been in the city I knew exactly what I was supposed to do to get to the top. Here I could wander off the cleared paths without being lost or worrying about the lack of a compass. I had abandoned my own itinerary for success and what it meant.

  Tears and emotion were flaws in city firms: Here, where there were no firms, they are the local currency of relationships. They are legal tender you must exchange eventually if you want to fit in. Those connections were more valuable to me now than powerful business allies; on the other hand, it was pretty hard to justify manual labor after racking up a quarter of a million dollars in tuition.

  I thought about the girl with her Yale degree working in some Podunk bank. But maybe a parent was deathly ill; maybe she had tossed it all aside for a hometown relationship. I gave an inward shudder. That girl was nothing like me. I wasn’t going to be anything like her.

  Except, from an outward glance, we both might appear to have issues.

  I finally forced myself out of the tub and went through the tiny lingerie drawer in the bathroom. It was pretty sparse, owing to the fact that I just stuffed everything into the bedroom dresser lately since my drop-in guests had increased and my privacy had diminished dramatically. I always heard Mona opening a drawer or cabinet before she emerged from the bathroom. She often made excuses to go upstairs. It didn’t bother me too much, Mona was lonely and her snooping and hypochondria were just her ways of connecting.

  I put on a pair of white Chantelle panties; expensive, tiny and worth every penny although they were entirely a waste to wear at the moment. The only robe left in the chest was the almost sheer periwinkle by Fleur of England, and I left my feet bare, my bra off, enjoying the feeling of my own clean oiled skin. See, I thought to myself, a woman with issues from a sexual assault definitely wouldn’t spend a fortune on lingerie. (Although a tiny voice inside argued that I was only overcompensating and continuing a ridiculous habit that had begun back when I was making serious bank. And all the lingerie in the world hadn’t resulted in an actual sex life. To that little voice I can only respond with one irrefutable argument: “Shut up. I’m working on it.”)

  For now, my plan was to tumble into bed after I let Mosey out, foraged for supper, and let him out once more.

  Then I would most likely revel in every move Ben made today, feel guilty about everything I said to Jared, and set my alarm so I could start work early and get a new phone first thing in the morning. And revel once again in every move Ben made today.

  With every image I summoned up of him, my breath caught.

  Facebook Post: “Forget the “Do Not Call List.” It doesn’t work. When a telemarketer says he has a way to expand my business (What? kill the town’s folk?) I say: “Great, but first let’s talk about Jesus.” CLICK.

  Chapter 7

  The best laid plans, “go oft gan agley” as the poet once said. But the hastily made ones go agley a lot faster. When I opened the door to let Mosey out, Jared was sitting on the steps, his head in his hands. When the dog rushed past him he didn’t look up. I couldn’t see his face at all.

  Forgoing some modesty, an easy habit to acquire when you’ve been living in a home tucked out of view, I settled myself on the peeling porch swing and watched him with my arms folded carefully across my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I was angry for a couple of reasons; I never thought Lucy would betray me that way. I never had a friend like her who I felt I could confide in completely. I was also defensive about you checking up on me and your possessiveness when nothing has ever actually happened between us to make you feel jealous, if that’s what it was.” I raised my hands helplessly. “I can’t help but think you are playing a game, trying to tag me and move on. You must admit you do have the reputation for it. I shouldn’t have thrown the phone at you though,” I mumbled.

  His head whipped around as his eyes pierced mine. “Why do you think of Lucy’s talk with me as a betrayal? You had already hinted at it all when we were at Walter’s months ago and found the pictures of children.”

  “I certainly did not!”

  He raised his head and looked at me. I have to give him credit; my half-dressed state didn’t register with him at that moment at all as he kept his eyes steadfastly on my face.

  He continued, “You did. Remember, when I said child molesting was a crime and you said in that cold voice you get sometimes that you certainly did know. I thought you were saying it happened to you.”

  “Oh,” I said, “Lucy didn’t actually mean that.”

  “There’s more?" He asked incredulously.

  “Please Jared, leave it alone.”

  “She said you had been assaulted, I said I guessed as much from a remark you made once.”

  “Oh,” I said carefully, “I don’t know why she felt compelled to share that.”

  He rubbed his temples, “I was frustrated; Lucy was trying to justify why you are, so... guarded. She was trying to explain why I get so many mixed messages. She was careful, like she was dancing on an oil slick. But we are talking about two different events?”

  “Jared, it’s personal; and you were worried about me but had time to gossip about my past?”

  “We were trying to wait! You had your phone off most of the day. We knew we actually had no reason to be worried under normal circumstances and how mad you’d be if we went looking for you. I said something to Lucy about you being the most complicated woman I ever met. We were concerned so we waited to make sure you were all right.”

  “I appreciate that; I do. But I don’t know why I’m here, doing this, it’s ridiculous. I should be applying to law school or go back to my old career, or just start tying up loose ends and figure it all out while I’m doing that.”

  “Where would you go?” He asked curiously, “When you don’t want anyone to know the things that help them understand you? When you just parcel out pieces of your life that made you who you are? Don’t you want to fall in love, trust someone? You’re so mysterious,” he continued “You know it actually makes people take notice, want to know more about you, once they realize that you are kind of close-mouthed. It must be lonely
to be so guarded.”

  “Lonely? Am I so odd, so damaged, that I have to spill every detail of things I swore would not define me in order to have relationships?” I stood up and gave a soft whistle and Mosey came bounding up the steps. So far, except for one little understandable rebellion a while back, Mosey’s routine was working out so well that I only needed the leash for long walks.

  I stroked him, fidgeting with his collar as I continued tersely, “Maybe that’s what attracts you, you want to solve me, maybe it isn’t just sex, or it’s the way for you to get sex when the prey is a little smarter than your average bear,” I smiled a little at the reminder of being “saved by the bear” that afternoon.

  “But trust and love? Its every girl’s dream right? If that’s what it costs to have someone fall for me? Dissecting my past to draw an image that becomes a blueprint for everything I do in the future? It’s too heavy a price. Besides, I never bought into that whole marriage thing before, I was never one of those girls who dreamed of rings or wedding dresses, so why date?”

  Jared’s face flushed. “Before? You buy into it a little bit now? And don’t take this the wrong way; I’m talking theoretically, but what about a sex life?”

  “Jared, I have had two monogamous relationships in my life and no one-night stands. The relationships were just fine, but no more than that, and it lead to ... complications. Extricating myself from the relationships made me feel like an awful person. If I want a child and the perfect man for me hasn’t made an appearance I’ll adopt. In other words, one-night stands aren’t really me, but if it was the right person, unmarried, safe and disinterested or distant enough so they couldn’t turn up later demanding seconds... well it’s starting to sound like it has its attractions.”

  He gave me a tentative smile; “Fine, you want to try the one-night stand thing? I have a secret martyr complex; I’ll volunteer for the initial trials. But I bet you a thousand dollars you’d be jonesing for more Jared within a day.”