Bitter Sweet (48 page)

‘The news isn’t good,’ he said quietly.

‘What did she say?”

‘She won’t hear of a divorce.’

Her hand moved lightly on his back. Her eyes closed.

‘Oh, no.’

‘I think she’s going to make it as tough on us as she can.

She says if she can’t have me, you won’t either.’

‘How can I blame her? Could I give you up if you were mine?’

He drew back, his hands on the slope of her neck while brushing the corners of her lips with his thumbs. He studied her soulful eyes.

I’ve moved into Ma’s, so things are still up in the air.’

‘What did your mother say?’

‘Ma? She’s the salt of the earth. She gave me a hug and said stay as long as you need to.’

She pressed close to him again. ‘You’re so lucky. I long for a mother I can be honest with.’

Each Tuesday afternoon Vera Pearson volunteered her time at the Bayside Nursing Home where she played piano while the old folks sang. Her mother had been a devout Christian who instilled in Vera the importance of charity, both at home and in the community. So on Tuesdays she played piano at Bayside; on Saturdays she arranged altar flowers at the community church; during springtime she helped with the church rummage sale; in autumn she helped with the bake sale; she attended regular meetings of her church circle and the garden society and the Friends of the Library. If at each of these functions Vera garnered any gossip that the Door County Advocate had missed, she regarded it as her beholden duty to spread it.

On this particular Tuesday afternoon Vera had whispered to one of the nurses that she’d heard the middle Jennings girl, only a junior in high school, was pee-gee. ‘It’s no wonder,’ she added, ‘like mother, like daughter.’

After the music they always had ‘teatime’. The coffee was absolutely delicious today, and Vera had one cup with her chocolate-frosted cup-cake, two more with a slice of orange bundt cake and another with some coconut cookies.

She was in the restroom behind one of the two beige metal doors, struggling with her control-top panty hose when she heard the big door open and two women entered, conversing.

Sharon Glasgow - one of the nurses at Bayside - said, ‘Vera Pearson’s got a lot to talk about. Her own daughter is having an affair with Eric Severson. Did you hear he left his wife?’

‘No!’

The adjacent stall door closed and Vera saw a pair of white shoes beyond the partition.

‘He’s living at home with his mother.’

‘Are you kidding!’ That was Sandra Ecklestein, a dietician.

‘I guess they went together when they were in high school.’

‘He’s really good-looking.’

‘So’s his wife. Have you ever seen her?’ On the other side of the partition a toilet flushed while Vera remained still as a broken watch. The dividing wall quivered as it was thumped by a door, and the white shoes went away.

Another pair appeared. The faucet ran and the hand dryer whined and the routine was repeated while the two women went on to talk about other things.

When the room grew quiet, Vera hid a long time in her stall, afraid to go out until she was certain the two women had gone elsewhere in the building.

What did I do wrong? she thought. I was the best mother I knew how to be. I made her go to church, I set a good example by staying with one man my whole life, I gave her a clean home with good food on the table and a mother always in it. I set curfews and report card standards and made sure she never hung around with any rift-rag But the minute she came back she ran off to that town meeting with him.

I warned her this could happen! Didn’t I warn her?

Vera didn’t drive. In a town the se of Fish Creek she didn’t need to, but, trudging up Cottage Row on foot, she wished she did. Reaching Maggie’s door, she was winded.

She knocked and waited, her purse handle over both wrists, which were pressed against her rib cage.

Maggie opened the door and exclaimed, ‘Mother, this is a surprise! Come in.’

Vera marched inside, puffing.

‘Let me take your coat and I’ll put on some coffee.’

‘No coffee for me. I’ve just had four cups at the home.’

‘The weekly sing-along?’

‘Yes. ‘

Maggie put the coat in the maid’s room and returned to find Vera perched on a chair with her purse on her knees.

‘Tea? Coke? Anything?’

‘No, nothing.’

Maggie took a chair at a right angle to Vera’s.

‘Did you walk up?’

‘Yes. ‘

‘You should have called. I would have come down and got you.’

‘You can take me back down after...’ Vera paused.

Her tone warned Maggie something was wrong. ‘After?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve come here on unpleasant business.’

‘Oh?’

Vera pinched her purse clasp with both hands. ‘You’re seeing that Severson boy, aren’t you?’

Taken aback, Maggie took some time in replying. ‘If I said yes, Mother, would you be willing to talk about it with me?’

‘I am talking about it. The whole town is talking about it!

They say he’s left his wife and moved in with his mother. Is that true?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Margaret! I didn’t raise you that way!’

‘He is living with his mother, but he left his wife because he doesn’t love her anymore.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Margaret, is that how you excuse yourself’

‘I don’t need excuses.’

‘Are you having an affair with him?’

‘Yes!’ Maggie shouted, jumping to her feet. ‘Yes, I’m having an affair with him! Yes, I love him! Yes, we plan to get married as soon as he gets a divorce!’

Vera thought of all the women in the altar society and the garden society and the church circle and the Friends of the Library, women she’d known her whole life long. She relived the sense of embarrassment she’d felt in the lavatory at the home this morning.

‘How will I ever face the ladies of my church circle again?’

‘Is that all that matters to you, Mother?’

‘I have been a member of that church for more than fifty years, Margaret, and in all that time I’ve never had the slightest thing to hang my head about. Now this. You’re not back in town but a few months and you’re involved in this scandal. It’s disgraceful.’

‘If it is, it’s my disgrace, Mother, not yours.’

“Oh, you’re very smug, aren’t you -just listen to yourself, believing everything he tells you, like some fool.

Do you really think he intends to divorce his wife and marry you? How many women do you think have been told that line over the years? He’s after your money, Margaret, can’t you see that?’

‘Oh, Mother...’ Margaret dropped to a chair, overcome with disappointment. ‘Why couldn’t you just once in your life be a support to me instead of tearing me down?’

‘If you think I’d support such goings-on ‘

‘No, I didn’t think you would. I’d never think that, because in all my life you’ve never given me credit for anything.’

‘Least of all good sense.’ Earnestly Vera leaned forward and rested an arm on the table. ‘Margaret, you’re a rich woman, and if you aren’t wise enough to realize that men will be after you for your money, I am.’

‘No...’ Maggie shook her head slowly. ‘Eric is not after my money. But I’m not going to sit here and defend him or myself because I don’t have to. I’m an adult now, and I’ll live my life the way I please.’

‘And embarrass your father and I without the slightest thought for our feelings?’

‘Mother, I’m sorry for that, truly I am, but I can only say again, it’s my affair, not yours or Daddy’s. Let me take responsibility for my feelings, and you take responsibility for yours.’

‘Don’t talk to me in your high-brow counsellor’s talk! You know how I hate it.’

‘Very well, I’ll ask you something straight out, because I’ve always wondered.’ Maggie looked her mother square in the face. ‘Do you love me, Mother?’

Vera reacted as if someone had accused her of being a communist. ‘Why, of course I do. What kind of a question is that?’

‘An honest one. Because you’ve never told me.’

‘I kept your clothes clean, and the house perfect, and good meals on the table, didn’t I?’

‘A butler could do that. What I wanted was understanding, some show of affection, a hug when I came home, someone to take my side now and then.’

‘I hugged you.’

‘No. You allowed yourself to be hugged. There’s a difference. ‘

‘I don’t know what you want of me, Margaret. I guess I never have.’

‘For starters, you could stop giving orders. To both me and Daddy.”

‘Now you’re blaming me for something else. A woman’s place is to keep the home running smoothly.’

‘By dictating and criticizing? Mother, there are better ways. ‘

‘Oh, now I’ve done that wrong, too! Well, your father hasn’t any complaints, and he and I have been together for forty-five years ‘

‘And I’ve never seen you hug him, or ask if he had a good day, or rub his neck. Instead, when he comes home, you say, “
Roy
, take off your shoes, I just scrubbed the floor.”

When I come home you say, “’Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” When Katy drove up for Thanksgiving you scolded her because she didn’t have boots. Doesn’t it strike you, Mother, that we might like something more in the way of a greeting? That now, at this rather emotional time in my life, when I could use someone to confide in, I might appreciate your coming to me to ask how I feel instead of accusing me of shaming you and Daddy?’

‘It strikes me that I came in here confronting you with your loose actions, and you’ve managed to turn the blame on me for something I’ve never done. Well, I can only repeat, in forty-five years your dad has never complained.’

‘No,’ Maggie returned sadly. ‘He’s just moved into the garage.

Vera’s face turned crimson.
Roy
was the wrong one for moving into the garage! And she didn’t dictate and criticize; she only kept things in line. Why, if it were left to
Roy
the floors would be full of scuffmarks and their meals would be eaten at any ungodly hour and they’d be late to church every Sunday. And here was this ungrateful child, whom Vera had given every advantage - hand-sewn dresses, Sunday school, a college education - telling Vera she could use improvement! She thought I raised you to respect your parents, but obviously that’s another area where I’ve failed.’ Summoning her shattered pride, Vera rose from her chair wearing a hurt look on her face. ‘I won’t bother you again, Margaret, and until you’re ready to apologize to me, you needn’t bother me, either. I can find my coat.’

‘Mother, please.., can’t we talk about this?’

Vera got her coat from the maid’s room and donned her gloves, never glancing at Maggie again.

‘You needn’t take me down the hill. I can walk.’

‘Mother, wait.’

But Vera left without another word. - .

Closing the door upon her daughter, she felt her heart would surely break. That’s all the thanks a mother gets, she thought, as she headed down the hill toward home.

That evening when Maggie saw Eric she said, ‘My mother was here this morning.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She demanded to know if I was having an affair with “that Severson boy”.’

He snapped shut a carpenter’s rule and stepped down off a chair seat to gather her close. They were standing in one of the guest bedrooms where he was helping her insert a molly screw to hang a large-framed mirror.

‘I’m sorry, Maggie. I never wanted that to happen.’

‘I told her yes.’

He drew back in surprise. ‘You told her that?’

‘Well, I am, aren’t I? I chose to.’ With her fingertips she touched his cheek just below the fingernail marks where thin scabs had formed. ‘I can accept it if you can.’

‘An affair.., aw, Maggie M’girl, what are I putting you through? What more will I put you through? This isn’t what I wanted for you, for us. I wanted it to be legitimate.’

‘Until it can be, I’ll settle for this.’

‘I filed for divorce today,’ he old her. ‘If everything goes right, we could be married a half year from now. But I’ve made a decision, Maggie.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not staying here overnight anymore. It looks too tacky, and I don’t want people gossiping about you.’

In the weeks that followed, he came to her most days.

Mornings, sometimes, bringing fresh doughnuts; often at suppertime, bringing fish. Sometimes weary, falling asleep on her sofa, other times happier, wanting to eat, laugh, drive with the truck windows down. He came the day of ice-out, when the debacle on the lake signalled winter’s end.

And the day she got her first unexpected guests who’d got her name from the Door Chamber of Commerce and simply walked up to the door asking if she had a room. She was giddy with excitement that night and lit a fire in the guest parlour, making sure the candy bowl was filled and that there were plenty of books and magazines on hand. Her guests returned from having dinner uptown and knocked on the closed kitchen door to ask some questions. When Maggie introduced Eric by only his first name, the man shook his hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Stearn.’