Blue Shoes and Tattoos, page 16
She put the half-emptied glass on the table and buried her face in her hands. But I love him, Lord! I love him so terribly. Why are you doing this to me?
The front door slammed. Freddy, windblown and…and what? Unhappy even before he saw the wine glass and her stricken face.
His expression changed to concern. “What is it, Mom? What’s going on?” She shook her head, trying to smile.
“Love, Freddy…”
“Has that doll man done something?”
Her smile faded. Even now… “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”
“Well, has he?”
“Oh, nothing, Freddy. Just feeling a little unloved, I guess.”
His short laugh startled her. “Well, for once we’re on the same page!”
And for a moment she forgot her pain. “Carolina?”
He only looked at her. This time she had no tirade. How rare. And his expression slipped to mild surprise when she shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, Freddy. It hurts. Believe me, I know it hurts. And not any less because I’m old—by your standards.”
She never drank in front of him, but this time upturned her glass and drained it. As she took it to the sink, she said, “And that doesn’t help.”
“Why, Mom? Why do you put up with this guy?”
She turned. “Why do you keep after a girl who doesn’t want you? A fine girl, but I want you to find someone more…of your sort.” Then seeing his face darken, “One from a more stable background, Freddy. Traveling musicians for parents? Brought up by an old grandmother we know nothing about…a sister who doesn’t sound too great…”
“And a brother in Afghanistan.” He turned toward the hall. “And I hope for someone better for you…someone who doesn’t drive you to drink!”
“Freddy!”
But his steps rasped on the stair. Elizabeth sighed and gazed at the ceiling. And the tears trickled across her temples. Aunt Geneva again? No. She would have no mercy. Better to talk to Betts. Yes, Betts had suffered with Greg. This was the kind of thing you talked to your sister about.
But Betts, from whom she had expected outraged sympathy, was thoughtful as Elizabeth’s story ended, leaned back in her chair and sipped the spiced tea. Elizabeth, confused, reached for her cup and hardly tasted the tea that almost burned her mouth. Then Betts said, “He started with this woman when his wife had been ill a year? She comforted him.” Just the slightest note of sarcasm. “Well, Lib, you’ve got to admit a year is a pretty long time for a man to go without his comforts.”
Elizabeth rattled her cup onto its saucer. “And there’s the daughter. He tried to persuade me she’s the reason he can’t break off entirely. He’s fond of her, and he says she’s crazy about him.” She looked at her sister with distress. “She’s fourteen, lost her father a few years ago, so he’s afraid of what a total break would do to her.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I want to.” Elizabeth drew a long breath and collapsed against the deep pillow in her chair. Betts was a pillow fanatic. Every chair that could hold one held one, and her sofas overflowed with various sizes in wildly discordant colors. Never “arranged” as Elizabeth could visualize them but tossed obviously to be enjoyed. Maybe it was an attempt to make Greg stay home.
“And he will continue upkeep to this woman?”
“No. He wants to continue paying the daughter’s expenses. She’s a cheerleader and has to make trips and have uniforms her mother can’t afford. So. He’s promised to help her with college and feels he can’t back out.”
“Are you all right with all that?”
“How can I know right now? Betts, I am stunned.” And her sister leaned forward with a sigh.
“Well, at least I’m rarely stunned anymore.”
“Oh, Betts.” They stared across the slant of afternoon sun.
“Does Freddy know any of this?”
“Dear God, not yet. I almost told Aunt Gen, but thank goodness we were interrupted before I got around to it. And that’s another thing, Betts. If I do agree to all this, Freddy may be lost to me.” A cruel thought swirling out of her confusion.
“Do I love Garret more than my own son?”
Betts reached to touch her knee. “Don’t go that way. It’s a different kind of love.”
“But that’s the way Freddy will go.”
“Let him. He’ll get over it. Your concern is whether you can trust Garret or not. Take my word for it, nothing’s worth living with suspicion.”
For a moment Elizabeth’s heartache went out to her sister.
“Has he enlightened you at all about the doll?”
Betts covered her sister’s hand with her own and looked down at them, till she met Elizabeth’s gaze, saying, “Usually you cover me, this is a switch.” She grinned, a bit shakily. “He’s never enlightened me about lots of things…but let’s talk about your problem.”
Elizabeth could not manage a smile. “I think you’ve said all that can be said. I must decide… Can I trust him?”
“Well, you know what Aunt Gen would say anyhow, ‘Pray.’”
Elizabeth sat back, her hands clasped across her lap. “And I will; I have.” She loosened her hands, turning palms up. “But will I hear God’s answer or myself answering what I want to hear?”
Her sister’s stare was steady. “Only you and God…well, maybe only God…can know that.” She paused.
“It’s a risk, Lib. Every marriage is a risk. Is it worth taking?”
When the phone rang and Carolina held it toward her, mouthing, “Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Geneva thought, “Finally, I’ll hear the problem…”
But Elizabeth said only, “Just checking on you. I realize I’ve neglected you for a while.”
“Oh? Well, I did wonder about your last visit…”
Elizabeth’s laugh did not convince her. “It was nothing, really. Just wanted to talk a minute.”
“You have me now. Would you like to come by?”
“Later, Aunt Gen. I’m on my way to the library. You want anything?”
“See if there’s a Rendell…or P. D. James. Bring me one of those, and I’ll reward you with a piece of gingerbread just out of the oven and lemon sauce.”
She didn’t wait for her niece but settled at the table and indulged herself, though Carolina declined the invitation to join her.
“Maybe I’ll learn what sent her flying out of here on that last visit,” she said. And at Carolina’s lifted eyebrows, “when I told her old Garrett was coming…” Miss Geneva focused on forking a piece of gingerbread.
She was still lingering over coffee when Elizabeth breezed in without knocking, and beyond her the afternoon glowed with the special light of spring as Carolina closed the door, thinking, “In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns…” Well, what she wanted was for his fancy to lightly turn away…
“You’re in luck!” Elizabeth plopped two books on the kitchen table. “The latest novels by both your favorite writers. Darrell had saved them for you.”
“Gingerbread?” Miss Geneva stroked the books as Elizabeth pulled out a chair. And noted that her niece looked too bright-eyed. Something was still bothering her. But she let her enjoy the gingerbread before saying, “And you know my curiosity… But what was the problem on your last visit?”
Elizabeth sipped coffee and smiled at Carolina. “Great gingerbread, Carolina.” Then focusing on her aunt, she said, “Last visit?”
“It upset you that old Mr. Garrett was coming, and you left in a hurry as if to escape him.”
“Oh, the old fellow was upsetting in general! Who knows which time that was! But let’s not talk about him now.” And she smiled at Carolina, who had started toward the hall.
“No, wait, Carolina! I have a problem I want to run by you: Freddy!” And she laughed. “Has he said anything to you about this girl? A waitress at the new coffee shop? He’s been stopping for coffee too often! And last night he took her out. Naturally I got no report.” Then she smiled encouragingly. “I know you’re good friends, and thought maybe he’d said something to you?”
As Carolina struggled with this news (A turn. What I wanted, right?), Miss Geneva noticed her hands went quickly into her jeans pockets, and she chuckled. “We met her—remember, Carolina? That unhappy, unpleasant girl. I can’t imagine Freddy being attracted to her!”
Elizabeth smiled again but the smile chilled Carolina. “No accounting for taste, though, is there, Carolina? But I will try not to worry. There’s usually not much length to a teenage romance.”
And as Elizabeth’s mug came down a bit heavily on the table, Miss Geneva said quietly into Carolina’s silence, “Can be true of a romance at any age, Elizabeth.” Elizabeth stared at her aunt. Oh, Father! Please not a warning—through Aunt Gen!
“Freddy doesn’t confide in me,” Carolina now managed, even lifted an eyebrow and gave an exaggeratedly distressed smile. “Maybe that girl is why!” And Miss Geneva winked at her.
Elizabeth dabbed her lips with the fringed kitchen napkin—never a paper one in her aunt’s house. And pushed back her chair. “I’d better be on my way. Freddy’s home and I need to be in case he’s having supper with me instead of a hamburger with her!”
Suddenly Miss Geneva realized, “You have the afternoon off!” She could manage only a nod; the smile was unsteady.
“No, wait. This might be a good time.” And Elizabeth stiffened as her aunt began to rise, too. “I have a problem I need to discuss with you. Come into the living room?”
“I do need to get home, Aunt Gen…”
And Miss Geneva, turning her walker toward the hall, paused to look steadily into her niece’s eyes. Emphatically, she said, “It shouldn’t take long.”
Silently they crossed the hall and went to the wing chairs beside the cold hearth. But Elizabeth sat forward, car keys and purse in hand.
“You know I think of you as a daughter, Elizabeth.”
As if you can know what it feels like to have a daughter. Elizabeth leaned back, chin up, eyes wary.
“And love you and care very much about your happiness.”
Oh, this was going to be bad. This kind of talk from Aunt Gen was always a bad sign.
Miss Geneva observed her niece’s impatience and lifted a hand. “It’s not a problem of my imagination. Garret’s grandfather indicated to me there was some reason that you would never be able to marry. I was not aware he had asked you.”
They turned as Carolina called, “You two need anything before I hit the books?”
“We’re fine.” Miss Geneva’s curt tone was rare. And she waited in silence until she heard Carolina’s door close, never taking her eyes off her niece’s suddenly ravaged face, and heard her sigh, loud and long. Why, Elizabeth wondered, did she ever think she could keep anything from this woman?
“Has he proposed to you? I thought I would be the first to know.”
Her shoulders hurt as she shrugged. “Oh, Aunt Gen, you… He hasn’t gotten on bended knee. We’ve talked about it. What we’ll do when we’re married, where we might live, about my working in the shop…”
“Has he mentioned a problem?”
And Elizabeth twisted the car keys on a finger. I need a little time, Father. Time to think of a way to put this that is fair to Garret. Time. Her voice was firm. “No.”
Of course Miss Geneva recognized the lie. She stared at the hands, the keys. And what, Lord, is the key to handling this? Not confrontation. Haven’t I seen what that can do?
“Ask him then, what his grandfather was referring to.” She even managed half a smile. “I know what an old rascal he is…loves to cause trouble, but in case this is serious, if it could embarrass the family…”
“Embarrass the family, Aunt Gen? I don’t want to, no. But if it comes to Garret or the family…” She realized the keys were cutting into her hand. And her aunt saw.
“It may be a mere embarrassment your Garret doesn’t want to talk about. Something about his wife that he hasn’t been able to tell you yet.” She was startled as Elizabeth rose and bent to kiss her.
“Thanks, Aunt Gen. I’ll ask him. Now I must go see what Freddy’s up to.”
And Freddy. What about Freddy? From the long front window Miss Geneva watched her down the walk to her car. Had Elizabeth considered what her marriage might do to Freddy? Had she talked to Garret about him?
As she turned into her drive Elizabeth wondered whether Aunt Gen’s questions were God-sent or simply the fears of an old woman. Yet how enduring is Garret’s love? He dropped the widow he was seeing quickly enough.
“But he said he never loved her.” She spoke aloud. As if that might make it true. And he said it in that voice, that voice she had fallen in love with.
Betts’ words echoed, “No love’s worth living with suspicion.” And she retorted angrily to the dim garage, with its one window showing afternoon fading beyond the early cherries, “But I do want to live with Garret…and…with almost anything!”
As he locked the shop that evening, he suggested a walk along the tree-lined street under dogwood branches with blossoms white as stars against the fading light. Or like bridal bouquets, Elizabeth thought miserably. The days had not been easy. She had felt his almost steady gaze ever since she had said they must not see each other for a while. Aside from work. Could they manage that? he asked.
Once, as they went over an authentication for a doll, he covered her hand. She quivered a smile but pulled away and walked to the door.
“See you tomorrow?” His luminescent eyes burned with an intensity she’d never seen, and did a muscle in his jaw twitch? Her imagination? Longing wrapped her like a warm blanket. And her hand stilled on the knob. But, “Till we finish with that doll,” she whispered and turned the knob.
She did not come back to finish with the doll. She did not come back or return his calls for three endless weeks. Two or three mornings a week she went to her sister. Talking over coffee, trying to look at the situation from a hopeful angle. Sometimes weeping into Betts’ paper napkins, so much more efficient than Aunt Gen’s linen…
But June came, and Hannah graduated from kindergarten to become very much a presence in the household. Actually, Elizabeth admitted Hannah’s presence was good for her. She took her niece to the library for Story Time, to the club pool for swimming lessons, to a small zoo in a neighboring town, to friends’ homes where harassed mothers welcomed a playmate. She tried to lose her debilitating sadness in the joyous freedom of the child. And of course there was more time for her aunt.
“But can’t see her too often. She doesn’t know I’ve left the shop.” A morning with Betts, when Hannah was away. “She’s such a perceptive old thing. She knows something’s wrong and won’t rest until I tell her.”
Betts cupped her mug in both hands. “And will you?”
Lowering it, Elizabeth twisted her mug back and forth—the way her mind had swung between faith and doubt all these weeks. “I don’t know. You know how horrified she’d be, but the old Garrett told her there’s a problem. And could we ever be happy in this town? She might even disown me.”
Betts covered her wrist. “She might surprise you.”
“The Paragon? Never. Then there’s Freddy. Betts, I just don’t see anything good coming of all this.” Her arm hit a sticky spot on the table, and she dipped Betts’ paper napkin into a nearby glass of water to wipe her arm. “Good heavens, do you have pancakes every morning? Not good for Hannah…”
Betts grinned, “We all have our sticky spots, Libba. Some good, some bad. As for good coming of this, I’ve had time to think about you. You’ve been so proper all your life, maybe you’ve earned a little impropriety.”
Elizabeth looked up, stilled the cup. “Betts…you…you sound as if you think—”
“You think! I know, I talked about living with suspicion…but also think about living with loneliness…running into him downtown…seeing him at parties. Maybe he’ll even marry someone else!” Leaning toward her sister, she almost whispered, “I just want you to weigh both sides, pray…”
Elizabeth noticed Betts’ arm hit the sticky spot and handed the wet napkin to her. Then pushed back her chair. She had prayed. And prayed. And the Lord was not helping. “Have to go,” she said. “Meds to pick up.” And she kissed her sister’s troubled brow.
Miss Geneva had often wished her desk closer to her bed. But at least it was beside the room’s long window, a twin to the living room window, so when she looked up from her writing she could see the oak, just now alive with chickadees, titmice, sparrows. Good thing Tatters was asleep on her bed. The birds were happy. And though daffodils were gone, some azaleas still held blossoms, white, salmon. A glory of a red one, defying the June sun.
She looked down at the green journal’s pages…two filled with the account of her birthday party. Warming up, she called it. And it was rather fun. But…to write about Garrett and the professor’s book? Difficult. She smoothed the pages. In her early years she could have filled thirty in the time she’d been sitting here. But already old hands were having twinges—her spirit even more. And she placed her pen in the crevice between pages. Carolina’s close voice startled her.
“Oh, sorry, Miss Geneva, but thought you would want to know, Miss Elizabeth brought your medicines.” Carolina put the plastic sack on the bed.
Miss Geneva slammed the journal closed and struggled to get free of the desk. “Don’t let her go! I want to talk to her!”
Carolina hurried to help her up. “Go, go, child, catch her!”
Carolina was torn over which duty came first, Miss Geneva’s order or her safety. But, seeing her desperation, ran to the kitchen door…
