Water's End

by Jessica Deforest

  She couldn’t stop. Her car sailed through the intersection.

  A growing sense of panic turned her heart into a bass drum beating in her ears, but she realized the hill sloping up in front of her would slow her down. As she neared the top of Cheyenne Street, she put the car in low, and it slowed to a crawl. After what seemed like forever, she was able to steer to the curb.

  The parking brake wouldn't work either, so she turned the wheels toward the curbing and shifted into park. The brake pedal sank all the way to the floor when she tried to pump it. She had no brakes at all. None.

  With trembling hands she turned off the ignition, realizing that had she gone to work the shortest way, down Broadway hill, she'd have run across the busiest intersection in town without brakes. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. There was nothing wrong with her car. Her mechanic, who had just done a brake job two weeks ago, even remarked on what great shape it was in.

  At first she thought it might have been his fault, but she had known Phil Barnes all of her life, and he didn't do shoddy work. They had talked about what a good buy the Pontiac was.

  "After all, it's only got 30,000 miles on it," she said.

  "Yeah, the last owner drove this one only on the nursing-home grounds," he said.

  It was several minutes before she could calm down enough to walk back home. When she got in front of her house, she noticed a dark stain on the street where her car had been parked. Brake fluid. Joe had done something to her brakes.

  Her hands shook so badly she could barely unlock her door. She had to sit down before she could call the office and let them know she'd be even later than she had originally thought. When she turned to shut the door, she saw Scat Shafer, Joe's friend, coming out the front door of the duplex across the street.

  Of course. That's where Joe got the key.

  Once she calmed down a little, Anne called her office. "I'm having serious car trouble," she told Betty, afraid to say more, not knowing how much longer she could make anyone believe she was all right. "I'll be there just as soon as I can get Phil Barnes to take a look at it."

  "Don't worry about it. Take whatever time you need to get it fixed. Things are slow here."

  After she said goodbye and put the phone down, Anne realized that her emotions were trying to boil over, and if she didn't let them out, there would be an awful explosion later.

  On legs that felt like spaghetti, she wobbled into the bathroom for a box of tissues, then flung herself across her bed and sobbed. For such a long time she had been on automatic pilot, doing what needed to be done. Now it was time to feel, time to try to understand what was going on inside her soul instead of her brain.

  She couldn't believe such treachery, and from her husband, who said he loved her. Was this the man who threatened suicide if she left? How could she have been stupid enough to believe he loved her?

  When at last it seemed as if she had no tears left, Anne called Mr. Barnes. "I need you to tow in my car," she said. "I've got no brakes."

  "Impossible. I just did a brake job on that Pontiac, and there wasn't a thing wrong mechanically."

  "Someone tampered with them."

  She heard his sharp intake of breath.

  "I'm parked at the top of Cheyenne Hill and Twenty-Second Street."

  "Be there in ten minutes."

  When Phil Barnes got to her house, he slid behind the wheel of Anne's car and pushed the brake pedal, which went all the way to the floor. He looked puzzled. "Could be the master cylinder, but I just checked it, and it was fine." As he hooked the car up to the tow truck, he scratched his head. "Sure is funny. Almost like somebody drained out all your brake fluid."

  "There's a big brown stain on the street in front of my house where I parked overnight."

  "But why would anyone do such a thing?"

  "Divorce."

  Phil nodded and a look of understanding came over his broad face.

  Anne rode to the garage with him, and then caught the bus from there to work. Her compact mirror told her she didn't look too bad. The slight puffiness around her eyes and the red nose could be attributed to the brutal January winds that made the bus sway, or perhaps to a cold. It seemed as though everyone had one these days. In fact, David was the only one in the office when she got there. Betty and Sergeant Traynor had gone home with sore throats and fevers.

  David glanced at her, and then looked again, seeing her red eyes. "Don't tell me you've got the flu too."

  "I wish it were that simple. I moved out again. Saturday."

  "That's why you called in sick. I thought you really did have this bug that's going around."

  "No. I don't have any health problems, but I sure have lots of others. Joe got a key to my house and came in while I was sleeping last night and took my rings. The first thing I did was call the police to report it, but they couldn't find any evidence that the house had been broken into. There was a muddy footprint by my bedside table, but they said that didn't prove anything.

  "As a little encore, I think he did something to the brakes on my car. When I started off to work after the police left, I discovered my brakes didn't work," she added. "In spite of the restraining order, I can't do anything because I can't prove it was Joe."

  "My God," David said, his head sinking into his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair and then jumped up. "We've got to get you out of that place and into someplace different, so he doesn't know where you are. Can you spend the night at your Uncle Ralph's house?"

  David called Betty and briefly explained what was going on. When he hung up, he smiled. "It's all working out. Betty went to the doctor and he gave her a shot of penicillin. She feels better already and is planning to come in tomorrow, so we can have the day off if we need it."

  Phil Barnes had her car ready after work. "Just as I thought," he said. "There wasn't a thing wrong with this car. Somebody drained out all your brake fluid, for sure."

  His revelation came as no surprise to her.

  She spent the night with her Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Ralph. The next morning, when they had breakfast, Anne asked her uncle if he knew of anyone with a small house to rent.

  “Remember Grandma Mills's old house?” her uncle asked. “I’ve been looking for someone to live there. Your Grandpa Mills built that house with his own two hands, and your father and I were born there. It's small, but quiet and private, and nobody knows it's there except us," he said.

  He wanted to let her stay there for free, but she didn't feel good about that, so they arrived at a fair rent.

  "We just got through painting, and it's nice and clean. You can move in today, if you want to." He handed her a key from the rack by the door. "Okay, lady, here's the key to your bright new future."

  She hugged her aunt and uncle. "I don't know how to thank you," she said.

  "No need. It'll be good to have someone living there. That little place was looking all forlorn and lonely."

  Anne called David before she left her Uncle's house. She could hardly contain herself. "Uncle Ralph is renting me the cottage on the back of his property. It's so cute, and Joe doesn't know it exists. Not many people do. It's on the edge of town but feels as if it's way out in the country because it's separated from Uncle Ralph's by a good five acres of land, and he's the nearest neighbor.

  "I'll pick you up in about thirty minutes. Okay? I have to go by the duplex and give my landlord notice, and then I can take you by and show you my new place."

  She hated telling Mr. Harkness she would be moving so soon, but when he heard about her brakes that morning, he not only understood but gave back her rent money and security deposit.

  "Can't rightly take your money, little girl," he said. "You've got some big hills to climb right now, and it wouldn't be right of me to add to your troubles."

  "Thank you. I'll never forget this," she said as she got into her car.

  "Come on, let's go have lunch at the PX. We have to meet the movers back here at noon," David said.

  "I d
idn't order any movers."

  He grinned. "But I did. We were going to take your furniture to storage for you, but now we don't have to."

  They ate a quick lunch and got back to her duplex just as a big army truck drove up. David took a small bow. "Your moving van and crew, ma'am. Don't worry. Sarge okayed it."

  The truck backed into her driveway, and David's friends Dale, George, and Gary jumped out. They had even brought along hand trucks, pads, and empty grocery-store boxes.

  "This is too much, you guys," Anne said. "I can't believe you're doing this. You're wonderful."

  Dale beamed. "We aim to please."

  In a couple of hours, the men had all her furniture and boxes loaded into the truck. Fortunately, she'd only had time to unpack one box when she moved into the duplex, so all she had to do was tape it up; everything else was ready to go.

  By four o'clock that afternoon her things were in her new house, and she unpacked a box or two. It was getting chilly out, so she built a fire in the fireplace and made a big pot of hot chocolate for David's friends, but they didn't stay long because they had to get the truck back.

  "Thanks, fellows," she said when they piled back into the truck. "Thank you so much for everything." She turned to David, who was pulling on his jacket. "And thank you for planning all of this."

  He touched her arm, and then pulled on a glove. "Nothing to it. Glad I could help." He felt around in his pockets for the other glove and found it, but hesitated a minute. "My wallet. Have you seen it? I had it in my pocket earlier, but I can't find it. Just a minute," he yelled out the door to his friends. "I've got to find my wallet."

  "Come on, man, we'll be in some serious trouble if we don't get this truck back," Steve said.

  Anne looked at her watch. "Why don't you stay and look for your wallet? I'm sure it's here somewhere. Don't worry, I'll take you home."

  David opened the kitchen door again. "I don't want to hold you up. You guys go on and I'll catch you later. Thanks for your help."

  Once the truck roared out of the driveway, Anne began to grasp the reality of this move. She looked around the charming little house, at the compact kitchen filled with glass-paned cabinets, the spacious living room with its white-brick fireplace, and the small dining room that was perfect for the antique walnut table and china closet inherited from Grandma Mills. They had probably been purchased for that very room when her grandparents lived here.

  It was easy to imagine how pretty this house would be when everything was unpacked and the curtains were up. The old living room drapes would fit just fine, but she'd have to buy new curtains for the dining room and kitchen. There was no denying it. She was a nester just like her mom. Nothing seemed as exciting as making a place look like home. She had almost forgotten about David when she heard him in the guestroom.

  "I found it," he said. "Must've fallen out of my pocket when I brought in that last box." He walked into the kitchen, stuffing his billfold into the rear pocket of his jeans.

  "Stay for dinner?" she said. "We can run over to the store and pick up some steaks."

  "Sounds good, but are you sure you feel like cooking? It's been a hard day."

  "Sure. I'm not even tired. You guys did all the work. I'll have plenty of time to get tired when I start unpacking all this."

  "It's a deal, but only if you let me help. I make the best salad west of the Mississippi."

  It was already dark by the time they got to the grocery store. "Winter sure is weird here," he said, pushing a cart along. "Having to get up in the dark and go home in the dark."

  She picked out two nice Delmonico steaks. "You mean it's not like this in California?"

  "No. Newport Beach is a lot farther south, and though we do have winter, it's not really cold. It's just rainy. And we have more hours of daylight," he said, as they walked to the produce section.

  "You miss it, don't you?"

  He didn't answer but put salad ingredients into the basket.

  Later, as they drove back to her house, Anne repeated her question. "You really do miss California, don't you?"

  "Yes, but when I'm there I miss you. So I guess I don't love it as much as I could."

  His words sent small shocks through her spine and into her chest. The meaning was clear, and she didn't know if she could stand to think about it. Things were still too uncertain in her life now, and she didn't need any more complications. But when they got back to her house and started unloading the groceries, his hand brushed hers, and she knew there wasn't much she could do about the way she was feeling.

  All it took was a glance, one little touch, and something went wild inside her. Being near him could shake her core and rearrange her feelings until she barely recognized herself. It was like living on one of those fault lines she had read about. She never knew when the next shift in her emotions might destroy her very foundations. A primitive thing slept within her until David was around to awaken it.

  When it woke up, it frightened her.

  Chapter 7

  David and Anne had a quiet dinner on cracked plates, the only ones she could find in the mess in her kitchen, by the light of a square red milk-carton candle she made several years ago for Christmas. The thing took two pounds of paraffin and several red crayons, but she thought it just might last forever, because it never seemed to burn down. It gave out a nice rosy glow.

  "Did you like Korea?" she asked as she cut her steak.

  "It was strange. Primitive and corrupt, but really beautiful. The mountains are spectacular, but it's a brutal place in the winter."

  "Worse than here?"

  "Worse than almost anyplace. Lucky for me, I got to see more of the real Korea than most people, because I mostly lived on the economy."

  "I didn't know GIs could do that."

  "They're not supposed to, but I had a Korean girlfriend, and I spent the weekends with her."

  "What happened to her?"

  "We broke up. It wasn't fair to her because I wasn't in love with her. I was still in love with Sharon, my girl from Newport Beach. She lived next door, we grew up together, and she was my girlfriend from the time we were old enough to go outside and play in the sand. We were engaged when I was eighteen, against our parents' wishes, but we never slept together.

  "Then I joined the army so we could afford to get married, and the next thing I knew, while I was away at basic training, she got pregnant." He paused. "By my best friend. It really tore me up. I swore I'd never fall in love again." He blinked and looked down at his plate.

  She couldn't imagine David with those other women; it gave her a sinking feeling somewhere inside.

  For the next hour they talked books and Broadway musicals. He liked music and art as much as she did, and he had a natural curiosity and appreciation for beautiful things. He was naïve, but he had a natural dignity. Like a lion cub, David Hawkins was funny and regal all at once.

  What amazed her were the interests they shared. Neither seemed to run out of things to say, and everything they said validated one another's feelings and thoughts. They didn't always like the same things, nor did they always agree, but it didn't bother them. It didn't matter that he preferred South Pacific to Oklahoma. And unlike her husband, David didn't treat her as if she were some sort of idiot because she liked something he didn't.

  If she had to pinpoint the single quality she loved most in David, it was that he treated everyone with respect. It was no wonder he had such a wide circle of friends. He said it was because he was a Leo, a hopeless extrovert. But she knew it was because he was basically a good, kind soul. And that was what drew her to him, the way flowers lean toward the sun.

  Now that she had met this man, nothing would ever be the same. Everything had changed yet remained unchanged. She knew this less with her mind than with some ancient part of her, a primitive kind of knowledge. It was how her fingers found the notes on her grandfather's violin the first time she tried to play it, though she had never taken a lesson in her life. Some things just are, she told h
erself. Better to stop analyzing and accept that.

  "People would laugh if they could hear us chatter," she said. "I'm not sure what magpies sound like, but that's probably what we are, two yackity birds."

  "Maybe we're not magpies at all. Maybe we're wonderfully cultured monkeys," he said.

  Anne laughed. "That's more like it." She began to clear the table. "That was a super salad."

  "Thank you." David rose to help her. "And you cook a great steak, my lady love," he said, wrapping his arms about her waist.

  Before she knew it, her arms were around his neck, and she had opened her lips to his. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get close enough to him. Shamelessly she pressed against him, reveling in the heat of his body. Her breath came faster, matching his, until he pulled away.

  "No, my darling, not like this. Not now," he said. "I know you, and you're so damned upright you'll get off on a guilt trip. Five more months and you'll have your divorce. We can wait until then. Meanwhile, put this in your little book: I love you, and I want you, but I love you enough to wait. Okay?"

  All she could do was nod. Could she actually be hearing this, or was it merely another one of her dreams? The kindest, handsomest, sexiest man in the world had told her he loved her, and she didn't know what to say. Tears slid down her cheeks.

  David lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "Hey, what is it, sweetheart?"

  "Happiness," she said, sniffling. "I love you, too."

  "Hold it a minute," he said, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "You okay now?"

  Again she nodded. "Guess I'm not used to anyone being nice to me. But don't ever stop, because it feels good."

  He pulled her to him and hugged her tight. "You deserve to have someone be good to you. Remember that. You deserve it. What you don't deserve is bad treatment."

  He glanced at his watch. "Time for you to run me back to the barracks. We've both got to work tomorrow, remember?"

  "Ohmigosh. And I don't know where my curlers are."