Bingo (41 page)

His face, impassioned, changed before my eyes. His protective, queenie mannerisms melted away. Mr. Pierre was a man, a real man. I’d never seen him that way before.

“What are you staring at?” he asked.

“Nothing, nothing—I was thinking about what you said. I think I agree with you but if someone walked through that door and tried to hurt us, I’d kill him if I could.”

“So would I, but I’m not talking about deranged individuals. I’m talking about organized violence which the state justifies under the umbrella of patriotism. When one whole group of people subjugates another, whether by the gun or the club or more sophisticated techniques, it’s evil. I could have killed that boy in
Korea—hell, he probably didn’t know why he was there any more than I did. I’d have his soul on my conscience to this day.”

“But would he have your soul on his conscience?”

“I don’t know, but if his conscience is less than mine, it still doesn’t make killing him right.”

“I’m not arguing, but you said you didn’t want to be excused from serving in the army.”

“I don’t. Until the entire human race matures enough to realize that war is more than evil, it’s the road to total extinction, we’ve got to have a standing army. I think there should be universal draft across the board, no exceptions, men and women alike. Serve two years, from eighteen to twenty, and then get on with your life. It would certainly be one way to get people to learn about one another. I met men in the service I would never have met in civilian life and I acquired a little discipline and self-confidence in the process.” He crossed his feet, warmed by cashmere stockings. He was warming along with his feet. “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. We, the collective ‘we,’ operate on the crisis mentality, and what bigger crisis is there than war? It gives people a single, overriding common purpose. Why can’t peace be a single, overriding common purpose? Why do we wait for a crisis to pull us together? Let’s pull together for peace. Let’s control events instead of letting events control us.”

“I’m glad that Korean kid didn’t launch you into eternity.”

“I’d miss the opportunity to marry you. You
are
going to marry me, of course.”

“Let’s talk about that. Are you expecting that we’ll live together?”

“You can’t raise the baby alone. Besides which, darling, someone’s got to redecorate your house. My house is paid for, so we’ll rent that out and the income will pay for your mortgage.”

“Mr. Pierre, I can’t take your money.”

“What else am I going to do with it? How many trips can I take? How many cars can I buy? How many times can I redecorate
the shop or this house? You’d be doing me a favor. I wouldn’t be squandering my money. Let’s say I’d be investing in the next generation.” I didn’t say anything so he continued. “Nickie, as husbands go we know I shall leave a great deal to be desired. But as fathers go I won’t be found wanting. And I’m alone. My life has never been the same since Bob died. For a while there I lost the reason to live. I plodded along by rote, if you will.”

“That’s what Mom says too.”

“It takes years for your heart to heal after the death of your mate—and I miss him. I’ll always miss him. But again, Fate—the Fates—are kind. They saw two alone people—and note I said alone, not lonely—and they gave us a baby, a reason to make a family. Someone to worry over and dream about. Two someones. You and the baby. People don’t have to sleep together to be a family. They only have to love one another and I already love you.”

“I love you too. I don’t think I’m going to be much of a wife,” I said quietly.

He waved his hand. “I know, darling. I’ll be a better wife than you will.”

How kind of him not to fuss. I was beginning to look forward to life with him.

“Well—when do we get married?”

“As soon as possible, so we’re close to nine months when our cherub arrives.”

“I don’t want a big wedding. I don’t think I could stand it.”

“We’ve got to have your mother and Louise. We’ll ask Louise at the last minute so she doesn’t have the time to work up a major tantrum.”

“Okay.”

“Sunday.”

“This Sunday?”

“Twelve noon on the dot.”

“Can we get the church?”

“I’ve made every arrangement. We only need to get our blood tests and Trixie will do a rush job.”

“Okay.” I gulped.

“You know the first thing I’m going to do after we’re man and wife?”

“What?”

“Take a blowtorch to your wardrobe.”

K
enny was being shod, so I couldn’t ride him. I did go down for my blood test. That took five minutes. I ran more errands. I got vitamins for Kenny, a new collar for Lolly Mabel, catnip for Pewter. I bought a load of mulch for my garden and arranged delivery. That was before lunch.

At lunch I zipped into Mojo’s. Arnie Dow and Michelle were sitting at the counter. When I came in we grabbed a booth. We opened our conversation with lots of banter but as lunch wore on, so did we. We were utterly miserable without our paper.

After lunch I whipped myself into a frenzy gathering items for the Blue and Gray Hunt Club newsletter but it wasn’t the same as putting out a real paper.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

I
’m going to win. I give you fair warning.” Louise peered over her cards.

“Ha, dream on, Wheeze.” Mother pulled another card off the top of the deck.

Since they lost their tempers without shame, playing gin was risky. I was painting Mother’s dining room. If Ed was going to live with her I didn’t see why he couldn’t do it, but painting was better than moping around the Square so I went ahead. The double French doors stood open from the dining room to the living room which allowed me to see and hear everything. Aunt Louise surprised me. After her initial sulking, pouting, and raving, she’d calmed—quickly, for her. I was sure that when Ed moved in she’d provide us with some spectacular displays of pique. Still, it was unnerving that she was so in control of herself.

“Ursie joined the PTL Club.” Mother discarded.

“Ursula Yost?”

“Pass the ’ludes.” Mother said.

Where did my mother hear such things? I didn’t even know she knew about Quaaludes.

“Ha. Ha.” Louise pronounced this in a manner to suggest she thought it unfunny. “I was the one who told you about sedation. She’s out and about.” She turned toward me. “And if you know what’s good for you, Nickel, you’ll lay low.”

“I will.”

“How much money did the show make?” Louise brushed
away Pewter, who stuck her paw in the peanut bowl. The cat managed to get one peanut out of the bowl and proceeded to knock it around the room.

“That cat is so noisy. Julia, don’t you think Pewter’s a noisy cat?”

“Eleven thousand four hundred and twenty-eight dollars,” I answered.

“You made that much?” Mother was impressed.

“Does the skunk get a cut?” Aunt Louise was in good form today.

“No, but I’ll invite her back for next year.”

“I never saw anything like that in my life.” Louise threw down a card. She wasn’t paying much attention to the game. “Do you remember the time the possum crawled onto the altar in church?”

Mother laughed. “That was something.”

“How old were you?” I called down from the ladder.

“I can’t speak for my sister but I was nine.” Mother gleefully threw down a card and her hand. “Gin!”

“Nickie distracted me. That hand doesn’t count.”

Mother marked her game pad.

“I said, don’t count it.”

“Oh, come on!”

Louise pushed the cards together and shuffled. “You can count it but I’m not.” She made a notation on her own pad. “Saw Charles Falkenroth today. He looks bad.” Her voice dipped into her toes on “bad.” “Have you seen him?”

“Not since last Friday,” I replied.

“Are you going to deal or what?” Mother rapped the table, making Lolly and Goodyear bark. Pewter huffed her fur.

Louise doled out the cards. “He looks bad, I tell you. Any word on Jackson Frost?”

“Regina called and told me he’s working a half day today.”

“So soon,” Mother drawled. Her eyes never left the cards.
Mother could remember which cards were pulled and which stayed in the deck from hands she had played sixty years ago.

“It was a mild heart attack.”

“Scared him plenty, though. He felt Death’s sour breath on his neck.” Aunt Louise was in her element when there was a medical prediction or a tragedy to be reported.

“Pay attention.”

Louise returned her concentration to the game. I painted in peace until Wheezie shattered it with a too-loud “Gin!”

The games continued, with Mother winning more than losing and Wheezie getting steamed but still holding on to her temper. I was proud of her.

Louise bent the tip of a card. “Hear what happened last night at the North Runnymede town meeting?”

This caused a pang. If I’d been working I would have gotten a full account last night from the reporter who covered the meeting, and it would have been replete with details we couldn’t print.

“Bucky Nordness gave a report on the condition of the police force with a lengthy recap of his service. He oozed humility. Millard Huffstetler said, ‘Don’t be humble. You aren’t that great.’ ”

“Millard said that?” Mother smiled. “Good for him.”

“Birds do it,” Louise sang.

“Bees do it. Even overeducated fleas do it.” Mother picked up the next line.

They sang and played cards. Seeing those two white heads bent over their cards, I imagined them as children, singing and playing cards at the kitchen table. Each sister, a coincidence of the flesh, became the other’s reality check. Over the decades they shared experiences, associations, the geography of the town itself. Mom and Aunt Wheezie weren’t mirror images of each other but it was impossible to imagine one without the other. When they were this peaceful, they were adorable.

T
he parking lot at Saint Rose of Lima’s overflowed at six o’clock. By seven, game time, the stragglers who came in said there wasn’t a space left at the
Clarion
’s old parking lot and even the side streets were packed.

The Fourth of July parade got crowds like this, and for Father Christopolous this was the Fourth of July. The good priest bought a blackout bingo card for himself, a huge sheet with four cards on it, and he sat up front by the door.

Those people able to walk or be carried squeezed into the hall.

David Wheeler was there, as was Bucky Nordness. Bucky was already being a pest by insisting that this gambling was on Pennsylvania premises. As though we didn’t know.

Our gang, dressed to the nines, filled up one long table: Mom, Ed, Wheezie, Orrie, Mr. Pierre, Michelle, Roger, Thacker and assorted BonBons, Ricky, Decca, Sonny and Sister, Georgette—I think BonBons rose from the dead, there were so many of them—and Max, Georgette’s boyfriend. Also, at our table, to my delight, were Regina and Jack and, to my astonishment, Diz Rife. He was seated next to Louise. Mom and Mr. Pierre saved me the seat on the other side of Louise. Arnie Dow and the boys from the back room were there. Even Ursie and Tiffany and Harmony were there. Said they needed the money. Peepbean quickly pressed his fiancée into service as a card counter because of the huge numbers of players. Millard volunteered to help also.