Pretty Is as Pretty Does

by Debby Mayne

  “So how long do you think it’ll take you to reach your ultimate goal?” he asks.

  “Oh, that’s not my ultimate goal.”

  “You’re kidding. So tell me what that is.”

  I might have mentioned this in passing to one or two people, but based on their reactions, I haven’t uttered a word to anyone since. With him looking at me like he is now, how can I not tell him? So I make a snap decision. “I want to sell hair products on TVNS.”

  “TVNS?” He tilts his head.

  “Yes, the Television Network Shopping station.”

  “You mean that channel where sellers hawk products and people call in?” he asks, a look of incredulity on his face.

  “See? I told you that you might think it’s odd.”

  “No, it’s not odd at all,” he says as he leans very close to me, putting our faces merely inches apart. “I think ambition is very attractive in a woman.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh yeah. So much so that I’d like to take you out tomorrow night.” He gives me one of those looks that has always made me melt. “But I don’t have your phone number.”

  My heart thuds so hard I’m sure he can hear it. I don’t want to appear too eager, though, so I dig through my shoulder bag and pull out a pen and a business card.

  Feeling more like Cinderella than Priscilla, I listen to Maurice and hang onto every word he says. I don’t even care that he’s talking about what he wants and all the people who still look up to him. He’s the man of my dreams—always has been—and now he’s insinuating I might be the woman of his dreams. If I could sigh without being obvious, I would. Instead, I remain transfixed until there’s a brief lull in conversation.

  I could sit and stare at Maurice all night, but it wouldn’t be fair to Tim, so I take advantage of the break and stand up. “I really need to get back to Tim.”

  “I understand,” Maurice says. “We can’t always be with the one we want to be with.”

  I have a flash of discomfort and guilt, but I squelch it. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing. After all, Tim knows exactly where I am, and he’s fully aware that he’s not my boyfriend. But still . . .

  Tim is walking toward me, so I turn to Maurice. “Have fun tonight. I look forward to talking later.”

  He laughs. “You sound so businesslike.”

  “Sorry.” I glance down. “I guess it’s just habit.”

  “No need to apologize. I like it.”

  Without more than a quick acknowledgment of Tim’s arrival, Maurice takes off toward the crowd of people who have been trying to watch without being obvious. In spite of the fact that Tim tried hard to act as though he didn’t mind leaving me alone with Maurice, I know better, and a pang of conscience gives me a jolt. Tim smiles, and I shyly smile back. What I feel is rather odd.

  “Have a nice chat with your old boyfriend?” he asks with a very slight hint of painful sarcasm in his voice.

  I shrug. “Yes, we did have a nice little talk.” I have to change the subject, or I fear I might crumble from the guilt. “How’s Pete?”

  “The same. I have a feeling Laura won’t put up with this behavior too much longer.”

  That worries me. I can’t see Pete surviving without Laura, and the thought of Laura trying to raise all four of her children by herself is even worse. “Did she say something?”

  “Yeah. She told Pete that if he didn’t straighten up, she was gonna kick his butt to the street.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “That’s normal. She’s been telling him that since high school.”

  “Why did she marry him, knowing he was like this?”

  “A lot of us used to wonder, but most of us have figured out that they both offer something the other is missing. Laura provides some stability in the home, and Pete needs that since he’s so unstable.”

  “But how about Laura?” Tim asks. “What does Pete provide that she needs?”

  “A father for her children and a steady paycheck.” I pause before adding, “Besides, they’re used to each other, and I think they really are in love.”

  “I guess all we can do is hope for the best.” Tim looks off toward the crowd.

  “And pray,” I add.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  I don’t say another word because the last thing I ever want to do is preach to Tim because I know how annoying that can be. But he knows what I believe, and I think his faith is growing.

  The music stops, and the sound of yelling on the other side of the gym grabs our attention. “Don’t go tellin’ me what to do, woman! In case you haven’t noticed, I wear the pants in this family.” I don’t have to see Pete to know this is his voice, as he slurs half his words. “If you wanna go home, there’s the door.”

  “Let’s go see if we can help,” I say.

  “I thought you said she was used to this.”

  “Oh, she is, but since we’re here, I’m sure she’ll appreciate a helping hand—if for no other reason than to feel validated that other people care.”

  Tim rolls his eyes. “Women. I don’t think I’ll ever figure y’all out.”

  “Don’t even try,” Maurice says from behind us. “Besides, the mystery of how women think is part of what keeps us guys coming around.” He nudges Tim. “Right, buddy?”

  Tim grimaces. “Maybe some guys . . .” He looks at me and turns away.

  “C’mon, Tim. Why don’t you talk to Pete while I get Laura away for a few minutes?”

  “Want me to help?” Maurice says.

  “No thanks,” Tim says before I have a chance to respond. “We’ve got it covered.” We take a few steps toward Laura and Pete before he stops and adds, “But thanks anyway, buddy.”

  I’ve never seen this side of Tim before, and I’m not sure what to think. But at the moment, I don’t need to be thinking about anything but keeping the peace at the reunion.

  We approach the reception area where the lighting is much brighter. Laura looks to be on the verge of tears, and Pete’s face is flaming red. He’s leaning against the wall, but I can still sense the tension.

  “Hey, Pete, why don’t we go for a walk and cool off a bit?” Tim says.

  “You gotta be kiddin’. It’s near a hundred degrees out there.”

  “Not quite,” Tim tells him as he glances over his shoulder and nods toward Laura, who is standing there watching her husband being escorted away.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I ask her. “You’ve been working so hard for so long, you need to take a break.”

  “Can’t take a break,” she says in her clipped, no-nonsense way I remember from high school. “Not ’til after this thing’s over.”

  “We’ll probably be here another hour or two, and I’m not so sure you’ll make it.”

  Laura scrunches her face and looks around. “Okay, but just for a couple of minutes.”

  We stop at the refreshment table, where she ladles some punch into a cup. Without asking her if she’s hungry, I pick up a plate and fill it with a variety of finger foods. I know better than to ask her and give her a chance to say no.

  I lead her to a table and pull out a chair with the back to the entrance. “You sit here,” I say, pointing to the chair.

  “But . . .” She glances over her shoulder.

  “I’ll keep an eye on the door.”

  “Okay.” She sits down and lifts the punch to her lips.

  I take a small sandwich and shove the plate toward her, hoping she’ll follow suit. She does. Then I try to get her started talking about something besides the reunion. Everything seems to be running smoothly without her micromanaging, so there’s no point in her getting up and running around, fretting over any of it.

  “Oh,” she says, her mouth full and her cheeks puffed with food. “I almost forgot, we have to give out the awards.”

  She starts to stand, but I point to her chair. “I’m doing that, remember? You eat.”

  I go up to the stage, announce the awards as quickly as poss
ible to the dwindling crowd, lingering only on Didi’s trophy for being the most successful in our class, since not doing that will seem like sour grapes. Yeah, I admit I’m disappointed, but I also know this is probably for the best in order to keep the peace. As soon as I’m finished, I go back to Laura. About fifteen minutes later, Tim steps back into the gym and looks around. When he sees me, he motions for me to come over there.

  “Be right back,” I say as I stand. She starts to get up, but I gently push her back into her chair. “Laura, please stay here, okay?”

  She nods, stuffs a sandwich into her mouth, and picks up a chip. Now that she’s started eating, I think she’ll stay put for at least a few minutes.

  On my way to see what Tim wants, I see Celeste chatting with Jimmy. “I hate to interrupt, but would y’all mind checking on Laura? I’m trying to keep her sitting for a while.”

  “Sure thang,” Jimmy says. “C’mon, Celeste, let’s go do some Laura sittin’.”

  Tim is standing right outside the door when I get there, but Pete is nowhere in sight. “Where is he?” I ask.

  “Sleepin’ in his truck.”

  Alarm bells go off in my head. “Where is his truck?” I ask. I don’t even bother to ask how he got the key.

  “Over ther—” Tim slaps his forehead. “It’s gone. He was sound asleep when I put him in the truck.”

  “C’mon, let’s go see if we can find him.”

  “Priscilla, he could be anywhere. How will we find him in the middle of the night?”

  “Let’s just hope he knows his way home and nothing jumps in his way,” I say. “But let’s not waste another second.”

  We’re barely a half mile from the gym when we see the truck in a ditch with a police car right behind it, blue light twirling around, and Patrick Moody standing by the open window, holding a cell phone to his ear. He looks over at us as we park behind him and run toward the truck.

  “Glad y’all could make it,” Patrick says as he punches a button on his phone and shoves it into his pocket. “What were y’all thinkin’ letting him loose like this?”

  Tim starts to explain, but I jump in. “C’mon, Patrick, you know there’s a lot going on. Why don’t you go back to patrolling the streets of Piney Point, and we’ll take over from here?”

  “Nope. Can’t do that. This here’s an accident, and I’ve already called it in.”

  “Accident?” I walk around to the front of the truck and see that it’s all smashed in where it hit the ditch. “Pete’s going to be furious about this.”

  “At least he won’t have anyone to be mad at but himself,” Tim says as he inspects the damage. “Maybe this is what it’ll take to get him to stop drinkin’.”

  Patrick and I exchange a look. “I seriously doubt it,” Patrick says. “This ain’t the first time he’s wrecked a car. Last vehicle he crashed was totaled.” He scratches his head. “In fact, last two or three vehicles was totaled.”

  “Did you check to see if he’s okay?” I ask.

  “Yup. He’s still breathin’,” Patrick replies. “I called an ambulance to come take him to the hospital, just in case.”

  “Why’d you do that?” I ask.

  “Policy. When someone’s unconscious after a crash, that’s what I hafta do.”

  I understand, but I also know Pete will find a way to blame Laura. He always does, and after a big fight, she’ll take the blame.

  “Where’s Mrs. Moss?” Patrick asks. “Soon as someone gets here to take Mr. Moss and his truck, I have to inform her.”

  “We’ll take care of that,” Tim says.

  “We have rules.” Patrick glances at his watch. “I’m supposed to be off duty soon, but I’m supposed to—”

  “Patrick, you know me well enough to know I can handle telling Laura. You’ve worked so hard tonight, and I’m sure you’re ready to go home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looks like he might give in, but something snaps. “But I still gotta be the one doin’ the informin’. Y’all can go with me if you want.”

  The ambulance arrives and takes Pete to the hospital. Piney Point is a small town, so both of the paramedics who put him on the gurney know him by name and reputation. I’m assured that Pete will be okay when I hear them joking with each other on the way to the back of the ambulance.

  A few minutes after the ambulance pulls away, the tow truck stops. I tell them to take the truck to Pete’s brother’s garage.

  “What time are you off duty?” I ask Patrick.

  “An hour ago.”

  “Why don’t we drop your patrol car off, and you can ride back to the high school with us?” Tim offers. I’m proud of him for stalling for time, giving Laura a chance to relax a bit longer.

  “I reckon that’ll be okay,” Patrick says. “I might even change outa this uniform into something more comfortable.”

  Tim winks at me. “Excellent idea.”

  36

  Laura

  Priscilla must think I’m stupid, but I’m not. I’m fully aware that she’s trying to separate me and Pete. The fact is we don’t need separating. We bicker all the time; that’s how we show our love for each other.

  Celeste and Jimmy aren’t doing a very good job of keeping my mind off the fact that Priscilla has disappeared. Every time I try to say something, one of them interrupts. Finally, I stand up, nearly knocking my chair over. “Where’s Priscilla?”

  “She’s . . .” Jimmy looks at Celeste, who stands up and tries to push me back down in the chair. I stand firm, but her push throws me off balance, and I almost fall on my fanny.

  “What’s goin’ on?” I ask.

  “Calm down, Laura,” Celeste says in her firm voice I’ve learned about since our first committee meetin’. “You and Pete were making a scene and embarrassing everyone. We had to step in.”

  “Why would we embarrass anyone?” I ask. “Our discussion was between me and him. It’s no one else’s business.”

  “You were making it everyone’s business when you started yelling,” Celeste says.

  “Yellin’?” I laugh. “If you think that was yellin’, you must be a lot more sensitive than I thought.”

  Jimmy gives me a sideways glance after looking toward the door. “Oh, but I ain’t sensitive, and trust me . . . that was some serious yellin’ y’all was doin’.”

  “Speaking of Pete, where is he?” I ask.

  “Um . . .” Celeste hesitates long enough to worry me.

  “If y’all will excuse me, please, I’m goin’ to see about my husband.” Without giving anyone a chance to shove or push me, I take off, weaving around the tables and chairs that look suspiciously like they’ve been strategically placed to slow me down.

  Celeste and Jimmy don’t catch up with me before I get to the door and look outside. Pete’s truck is gone, and my heart sinks. I run into the cloakroom to get my purse, but Celeste is already there, blocking me.

  “Move,” I say. “I have to go find Pete.”

  “Priscilla and Tim are looking after Pete.”

  “Where are they?” I ask as I reach out my hand. “Give me my pocketbook.” I want to check to make sure I still have the keys to Pete’s truck.

  “No.” Celeste plants her hands on the table holding my purse and makes her body all rigid. “You are staying right here with us.”

  “I—” As soon as I start to insist, I hear Priscilla.

  “Laura, would you mind coming outside for a minute?” she says in a voice that is way sweeter than normal. I don’t like it a single solitary bit. But I follow her anyways.

  As soon as I get to the door, I see Patrick Moody standin’ there. He’s not in uniform, but there’s no reason for him to be at the reunion, other than . . . I swallow hard.

  “Ms. Moss,” he says. “Your husband . . .” His voice fades, and I feel lightheaded. “Ms. Moss!” I hear commotion, but it sounds like it’s coming from another room, only we’re not in a room. We’re outside. My ears start to ring, and I feel as though I’m falling into a
tunnel without an end.

  “Ouch!” I open one eye, and then the other one. “What is going on?” I ask as I reach around behind me and feel the hard, lumpy blacktop.

  “You fainted, Laura,” Priscilla says, still talkin’ in that voice that annoys me.

  “I want Pete.”

  Tim appears from behind her. “Pete is fine, so don’t go passin’ out on us again.”

  “Where is he?” I reach up and touch my forehead that has suddenly started achin’.

  Patrick kneels down on the other side of me. “Pete is in the hospital.”

  “Hospital?” I shriek, making my head feel like it’s about to bust into a bazillion pieces. “What happened—?”

  “He crashed the truck in a ditch,” Patrick says, “but he wasn’t hurt.”

  “Then why’s he in the hospital?” Nothing makes sense, but that’s pretty normal for me these days.

  Patrick looks at Tim, who then looks at Priscilla.

  “Is someone gonna tell me, or do I hafta go down to the hospital and find out for myself?”

  Priscilla brushes some hair off my forehead. “Pete is in detox. He’s had a dangerous amount to drink, and he has alcohol poisoning.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He’s just drunk, that’s all. Happens all the time.”

  “No, ma’am, he’s not just drunk this time,” Patrick says. “I got a call from the doctor in the ER. Pete started havin’ seizures when they got him to the hospital. He needs to stop drinkin’ so much.”

  “Those aren’t seizures,” I say as I try to sit up but Priscilla is still holdin’ me down. “People act all funny when they drink too much.”

  “His pulse was goin’ crazy too.” Patrick looks to the other two for support, but they continue starin’ down at me.

  I want to get up but can’t, so I stop trying. All I can think about now is that I’m lying here on the ground, while my husband is in the hospital in who-knows-what kind of condition.

  “Want me to call an ambulance?” Patrick asks.

  “You do, and I’ll tell your mama about that time you scared my young’uns half to death on Halloween.”

  He cringes. “What do you want me to do?” he asks Priscilla.

  “Laura,” Priscilla leans toward me and whispers. “I’ll try to help you up if you think you can make it without fainting again.” Tim takes my other arm and together they carry me back inside the gym.