In Stereo Where Available (24 page)

Jerry stuck out his hand toward me. “Pull me up,” he said.

Jerry’s mother refused to be discouraged from watching the final episode of
Belle of Georgia
, and so at eight o’clock that evening, we all gathered around the sixteen-inch TV set in the living room and watched the nauseating pan-in of the camera from somewhere five thousand feet over Georgia to the front door of the mansion. Brent Holloway was standing between the tall white pillars with his hands on his hips, his white cotton shirt rippling in the breeze.

“Tonight, the incredible conclusion of our epic story,” he shouted toward the camera. “Join us as we follow the last struggles and final triumph of two amazing contestants—here on
Belle of Georgia!”

A few notes of “Dixie” played as the show went to commercial. “Well, that certainly sounds exciting,” said Jerry’s mother.

“Just you wait,” said Jerry.

“Just as the struggles of the Northern and Southern women grew greater as the Civil War entered its last stages,” said Brent Holloway when the show returned, “so, too, grow the struggles of our lovely contestants. Only five remain, and now they must fight for the immunity that may make the difference between who goes home to the arms of her family—and who wins the love of one of our gallant gentlemen!”

A shot of Rhett and Ashley filled the screen, sitting on a couple of horses looking down at the camera.

“Which one is the gay one?” asked Stella.

Her mother looked at her reproachfully. “Good heavens, Stella.”

“The blond one,” Jerry told her.

“He’s actually bisexual,” I clarified.

“Sure, he is,” said Jerry.

“Today we recreate the realistic struggle a woman alone might have faced to protect her family and valuables when confronted with a group of Northern soldiers or a ruthless Confederate deserter,” said Brent Holloway. “Each step of the course must be correctly completed before moving on. First, retrieve your leather wallet from the dresser in front of you and place it in the diaper of the plastic baby doll. Next, holding your baby doll, load all of the silverware from the basket into the bucket of your well and lower it to the bottom. Once you have completed that, you must release your baby pig from its pen and chase it from one end of the maze to the other, then close the gate at the end, which is labeled ‘Swamp.’ Do not let go of your baby at any point or you will be disqualified. Finally, lay your baby at your feet and shoulder the rifle at the shooting gallery at the end of the course. You must hit the target to complete the challenge. Do you understand?”

All of the girls nodded. Marci gathered up her hoopskirts to her knees and got into a runner’s crouch.

“Aren’t they mixing up two different scenes in
Gone with the Wind?”
asked Jerry’s mother perplexedly. “Because the part where she shoots the deserter is different from—”

“I don’t think they’re really going for authenticity, Mom,” said Stella.

“Go!” yelled Brent Holloway.

All the girls took off like racehorses, throwing the clothes in the dresser drawers every which way, grabbing the baby dolls by their arms, and shoving the wallets down into their diapers.

“Grace and Marci are dead even at maze!” shouted Brent.

Madison’s pig turned around and tried to run back to its cage. “Damn you!” she shouted at it, her baby doll’s head banging against her hoops as she ran. Marci already had her pig in the swamp and was running toward the shooting gallery.

“Grace is falling behind,” called Brent.

Madison slammed the gate behind her squealing pig and dashed for the shooting gallery. But it was too late. Marci planted a bullet right into the heart of her target just as Madison dropped her baby to her feet.

“It’s
Marci!”
announced Brent.

“Damn it!” yelled Madison.

“So does that mean she wins?” asked Jerry’s mother.

“No, that just means they can’t vote her out,” Jerry explained. “They only
win
if they get chosen by Rhett or Ashley.”

“Chosen for what?”

“To get engaged,” I told her.

“For
real
?”

“Ostensibly.”

“My goodness. I don’t know about this.” She folded her arms over her bosom. “What does your mother think of all this, Phoebe?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I don’t think she takes anything Madison does all that seriously. Unless it’s, um…especially remarkable.”

Once the girls had voted off a Yankee girl, Madison was the only one remaining against three Rebels. She bit her lip as the girl grabbed her train case and hatbox and waved good-bye. After the commercial, the scene opened on Brent Holloway receiving a pair of small velvet ring boxes from across the counter at a jewelry store. He set them into an authentic Confederate ammo case and walked purposefully out the door to a waiting train, steam pouring from the locomotive. As he pulled into the station closest to the plantation, he hung off the side of the front car, ammo box under his arm, his cotton shirt fluttering in the wind. He jumped off and ran slowly toward a covered horse-drawn carriage. A guy in a coat and tails closed the little door behind him, the top-hatted driver cracked the whip, and he was off to the mansion.

“I certainly hope those girls say yes,” said Jerry’s mother.

“They will,” I assured her. “Saying no would be like throwing away a winning lottery ticket.”

The four girls were gathered in the parlor, wearing gorgeous silk dresses and sitting carefully in their armchairs so their hoops would stay down. Madison was wringing her hands. Brent came in with Rhett and Ashley in ascots and short coats, each with a red rose boutonniere.

“Ladies, these men have thought long and hard about which of you they would like to spend the rest of their lives with,” said Brent Holloway, his smile sending a little shadow into the cleft in his chin. “If your name is called, please take your gentleman’s arm and accompany him to the piazza for your special moment together.”

“I think your sister and Rhett already had a special moment together, didn’t they?” asked Jerry. I smacked his arm.

Ashley chose Marci. As they walked off together, the two remaining Rebel girls reached for each other’s hands and squeezed them until their knuckles turned white. I waited impatiently through the proposal and grumbled in frustration when the show went to commercial.

“Oh, come
on,”
I said.

Jerry patted my hand. “You
know
he’s going to pick her.”

“Not necessarily. That other girl on the sofa was the one he was talking to in the hallway the night they went out on their date.”

“Was she really?” Jerry stroked his chin. “You know, I can’t tell them apart.”

A palpable silence had settled over the parlor where the three girls remained. Brent handed the last jewelry box to Rhett, who slipped it into his jacket pocket and folded his hands behind his back. A breathless pause. Brent raised a knowing eyebrow. Rhett extended one hand toward Madison.

“Grace,” he said, “will you please join me on the piazza?”

I jumped up from the sofa. “
Aaaaaah!
”

“She won!” yelled Stella.

Jerry rubbed my back as I jumped up and down. “She won!” I shouted. “She won!”

Out on the piazza, with Ashley and Marci off for a walk in the rose garden, Rhett got down on one knee and proposed to Madison with a gigantic ring that glittered like a disco ball. Tears beaded her eyes. They hugged. The edges of the picture fogged, and a McDonald’s commercial came on. I reached for a tissue from the plastic-canvas box cover with the state of Florida done in needlepoint on its side.

“Congratulations,” said Jerry’s mother. She reached forward and patted me on the knee.

“Thank you,” I said, blowing my nose. “I wish I could talk to her. She must be so happy.”

“Why don’t you give her a call?” Jerry’s father asked. “I don’t mind the long distance.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean, I have my cell phone. They just won’t let us talk to them until tomorrow.”

“Is that right?” asked his mother.

“Yeah. They haven’t been allowed to talk to anybody since they got there.” I wiped my nose again. “No outside contact.”

“So…” Jerry turned to me, caught his breath, and then asked, “She doesn’t know about his prison record and his kids and all that?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Oh, my,” said Jerry’s mother.

I waved my hand and reached for another tissue. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “She’ll just be so happy she won that she won’t even care. I’ll be right back. I need to call my mom.”

I left Jerry and his family sitting in front of the flickering TV, watching the post-finale reunion special:
A Very Special Civil War Christmas
.

Later that night, after the excitement of Madison’s win had died down somewhat and Jerry’s mother had gone off to bed in her ancient pink bathrobe and curlers, Jerry and I lay in our bed facing each other and talking quietly. His father was still out in the living room watching
My Three Sons
in the dark. Jerry stroked my hip softly under the covers, both of us conscious of the wide-open doorway, the windows all around us.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you happy for your sister?”

“Yeah, I’m
really
happy for her. She wanted this
so
much. I can’t wait to meet the guy.”

“You think he loves her?”

“I don’t know. If he doesn’t, he will. She’s a great person. I’m sure he’ll see that when he really gets to know her.”

He lifted his hand from my hip and stroked a finger along my cheek. “Then maybe she’s more like you than you think.”

I smiled. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

He smiled back abashedly. “Hey, Fee?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the drinking thing sooner. I kept putting it off, and then I wasn’t expecting everything to move as fast as it did on the drive down here. It sort of snuck up on me.”

“That’s okay. I can live with it. You said you’ve got it under control, right?”

“Yeah. It took me a few years to get it down, but I’m fine, really. When I’m under a lot of stress, it gets trickier, but I haven’t screwed up in eight years. Not once.”

“I believe you.” I tucked my hand under the pillow. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you ever sorry you didn’t get to go out with Karen?”

“You mean Karen from the conference?”

“Yeah, that one.”

He shook his head against the pillow. “No. I’m glad I met you.”

“But, I mean, apart from that. Do you ever regret that you didn’t have a chance with her?”

“There
is
no ‘apart from that,’“ he said. “I couldn’t be happier that she blew me off. Anyway, I only talked to her for two minutes. I really don’t care at all that I didn’t see her again. Don’t even give it another thought.”

“You wrote a pretty nice poem about her.”

“I’m an English teacher. You could hand me a pen right now and I could write a poem about you.” He grinned. “Softly breathes my love beside me…the warmth of her skin a place for dreaming…”

I laughed. “That’s cheesy.”

“So’s the other one. I never said I was Shakespeare.”

Jerry’s dad pointed the remote at the TV; the picture snapped into a long vertical line and disappeared, and the room fell silent. He stood up and wandered off down the hall, tapping the light switch on his way out. The tree frogs outside were singing; above our heads, the fans on the mint-green ceiling turned steadily, sending a ticklishly cool breeze sweeping down over our shoulders in waves, like a bird’s wings beating the air.

“Let’s give it a try,” he whispered.

I hesitated. The night before, Jerry’s mother had made what seemed like two dozen trips to the hallway bathroom, preventing us from doing anything more than some R-rated cuddling. “What about your parents?”

“Don’t worry. My dad and I had a ‘guy talk’ on the course earlier. I think I got my point across.”

“Are you sure?”

He put his arm around my waist and pulled me against him, belly to belly. “No, and right at this moment, I don’t really care.”

I didn’t care, either. I was hungry for the way his body had felt the first time, long and warm and tangled up in mine, and for the fire I had seen in him when we were together. I didn’t want to think about Karen or Serena or the girl in the Greene Turtle T-shirt. I only wanted Jerry, alone with me in the spare privacy of the thin-blanketed bed, with no room for anyone else in between.