Hidden Scars (10 page)

“Hi, Mimi. What are you doing standing out in the hallway?” Jennifer asked.

Becky sprang to her feet, walked across the room, and jerked the door open. “Mimi, how long have you been standing there?”

Jennifer edged around Becky and set a bag of chips on the desk. “Here you go.” She handed a bottle to me.

I took the Coke, but my focus remained on Mimi. What had she heard? What would she tell?

I’ve never been known for having a keen sense of direction, but I had to get away. There were too many prying questions. So even though Chuck wouldn’t be home for a few hours, I decided to strike out on foot to try to find the cottage he’d rented for us.

The fading orange glow of the western sky may have matched the fall décor, but the chill hinted winter would soon take its place. A shiver ran down my spine. Not from the cool breeze sending colorful leaves swirling in the yards and down the streets like discarded confetti, but because I couldn’t stop looking behind me…wondering. Was Mrs. Barnes right? Was someone watching me?

I spotted the house, ran the rest of the way, and used the key Chuck had given me. After turning on a few lights and adjusting the thermostat, I canvassed the refrigerator and cabinets for supper ideas, then busied myself making the bed and tidying the bathroom. Anything to help hurry time along.

At six, I started supper. It was my first time to cook on a gas stove, but that turned out to be the least of my problems. The cupboards held a mishmash of everything but the essentials. Without a mixer, potato masher, strainer, measuring cup, sharp knife, and only one boiler, preparing supper was more of a challenge than anticipated. Nothing looked or tasted right. The potatoes were lumpy, the country fried steak tough, the canned corn gummy, and the biscuits…a complete joke. I’d never used a packaged mix before, so I made them extra thick in case they didn’t rise. Big mistake. When I last checked, they were half the size of grapefruit and growing.

Light splashed across the window as a car turned in the driveway. The soft purr of the engine I’d grown accustomed to hearing meant Chuck was home. I opened the door and welcomed him with a smile.

“Hey, babe. What a surprise.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Something smells good.”

“Smell’s the only thing supper has going for it. There’s not a knife in the house sharp enough to cut the meat. I’m afraid it’ll just be potatoes, gravy, and bis—the bread!”

I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a hot-pad, and removed a pan holding four scorched cannonball-size biscuits. “I give up.”

Chuck peered over my shoulder. “Just the way I like ’em.” He led me to the table, sat, and pulled me onto his lap.

My gaze dropped to the floor. “This day has been so lousy. I wanted supper to be a surprise.”

When he didn’t respond, I turned. His eyes twinkled, his lips twitched, and then he burst into gales of laughter.

He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m not laughing at you. Honest.”

I jumped to my feet. “You’re making fun of me.” Never mind the stove showcasing four of the largest briquets on record.

By the time Chuck stood in front of me, I couldn’t contain my own amusement. We held one another and howled hysterically.

“We’ve got to stop it.” I wiped the moisture from my eyes. “This mess has to be cleaned up and me back at the dorm before eight. I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for a peanut butter sandwich or a hamburger from Eddie’s.”

“Oh, no.” He scooted a chair out and motioned for me to sit. “You cooked it. We’re going to eat it.” Still smiling, he joined me and gripped my hand. “And after we’ve blessed it, we’ll tell each other about our day.”

I closed my eyes and bowed my head, but my prayer had nothing to do with the pitiful meal before us.

“Amen.” He gave my hand a squeeze and began dishing food on our plates. “You go first. What mischief have you and the girls gotten into today?”

“It’s not about the girls…it’s about my mother.”

I started with the phone call from Janet and ended with Mimi Clair standing outside my door.

He reached for his glass of tea and took a drink. “Your parents don’t give up easily, do they?”

“No, and they won’t ever.”

“Well, I think Becky’s right. I see your mother as a chess player. Every move she makes studied and calculated to give her what she wants at any cost. Don’t let it get to you.” He pointed his fork at me. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“But what if she has someone watching us? What if it’s Mimi? Mimi might not do it deliberately, but you know how she loves to talk and how good my mom is at manipulating.”

“I’m not worried about it. Let ’em do whatever they want. We’re getting married.”

“But what
if
somebody’s watching? Like Mrs. Barnes said. They could be out there now for all I know.”

Chuck leaned toward the window and flipped the curtain back. “I don’t see anybody.”

I punched his upper arm. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, Morgan, but one of these days, you’re going to have to change all that fear into trust. It’s like my grandmother says, ‘If you worry, why pray, and if you pray, why worry.’ There’s no need to do both.”

“You don’t know my parents.”

He paused, removed his checkbook from his pants pocket, opened it, and studied the calendar in front.

“What are you doing?”

He picked up a pencil and circled a date. “I say you tell the girls about us—including our marriage plans.”

“Are you nuts? Even if Mimi isn’t the one spying on me, she’ll never be able to keep quiet about it.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

I laid the fork with a bite of potato back on the plate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If…and that’s a big if…your parents or someone else is watching us, then we’ll give them something to gawk at and Mimi Clair something to talk about. We’ll continue with our plans to get married November the fifteenth, as far as anyone knows.” He moved the calendar for me to view and tapped the point of the pencil on the date he’d circled. “But, we’ll change the date.”

“To the twenty-sixth? That’s so far away.”

“I don’t like it any better than you do, but listen, everyone will be expecting us to run off the fifteenth. But we’ll stay close to the dorm—walking, sitting, holding hands.” He winked. “Maybe even a little smooching. All in plain view. The next night, we’ll do the same thing. When the girls ask, you can tell them we’ve had second thoughts, or we’ve temporarily postponed the wedding.”

I picked up the checkbook. “The Tuesday before Thanksgiving?”

“Yes, and it’s perfect. We’ll go to Alabama and get married. You’ll go back to the dorm that night and to classes the next morning. No one will suspect we’re married. I’ll pick you up at noon on Wednesday, and we’ll leave town for a short honeymoon. By the time your parents find out, there won’t be anything they can do about it. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but…”

I ran my thumbnail across my lower teeth. “I hate to postpone our wedding, but it might work.”

Chuck glanced at his watch and scooted his chair from the table. “We’ve got to get going. It’s ten till eight.”

I sprang to my feet and snatched my purse off the counter. “We won’t make it.”

“You see, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re wound like an eight-day clock.”

“The kitchen.” A total wreck. “You haven’t even finished eating, and we never had a chance to discuss
your
day.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got the rest of the night to clean, and we can talk on the way.”

Chuck pulled in front of the dorm with two minutes to spare.

Mrs. Henderson stood in the lobby. Keys in hand. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you, Morgan?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I made it.”

Then I ran down the hall. Out of breath, I stopped at Becky and Mimi Clair’s room, knocked, and waited. The last time I’d seen either one of them, all our emotions ran high. Becky opened the door.

“Where’s Mimi?”

“Taking a shower, I guess. Why?”

After explaining the change of plans, I asked, “Do you think you could rush her along and meet me in my room in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll try.”

When I reached the third floor, I went door to door and requested my friends’ presence for a quick meeting. I found Becky and Mimi Clair waiting with Paige in my room. By eight twenty, the rest of the girls arrived.

I closed the door, took a deep breath, and faced them. “Remember the roses and the secret admirer?”

Paula clapped. “You finally met him.”

“Not exactly. There is no secret admirer. At least not to anyone but y’all. His name is Chuck. We’ve known each other for four years.”

The girls swapped looks and murmured.

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. My parents don’t approve of him. They made it almost impossible for us to see one another after our first year of dating. Anyway, they found out about him this past weekend.”

“Why don’t they like him?”

“I don’t know, Ann.”

“They had to give you a reason,” she continued.

“When they first broke us up, I wasn’t given a reason. As time passed, it became a matter of, ‘because I said so.’ But he’s the nicest guy any girl could ever hope for, and I love him.”

Jennifer grabbed my arm. “When do we get to meet him?”

“Soon, but I have something else to tell you.” I scanned the room and hated not telling them the whole truth. “We’re getting married.”

Squeals, laughter, and hugs disrupted the semi-calm atmosphere.

After Paige took control and hushed the girls, I continued, “We’re getting married November fifteenth. I wish all of you could be there, but we’re not having a church wedding. We’re eloping. If my parents find out, they’ll try to stop me. Possibly have our marriage annulled.”

“Can they do that?” Wendy asked.

I bit my lip and nodded.

Mimi walked up to me. “Do you think they’d try?”

“They might. According to the phone call I got today, that’s their plan.”

Mimi spun and scowled at Becky. “I knew there was more to the phone call than you said.”

Becky shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We can talk about it later.”

“I’m afraid we’ll all have to talk about it another time. It’s almost nine,” Paige announced.

After a few more questions and further congratulations, the girls left for their own rooms. Except for Mimi Clair. “You said y’all were eloping, but you didn’t say where.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Can’t you tell me? I won’t say a thing. My lips are sealed.” She made her signature gesture of holding an invisible key to her tightly closed lips and turning it. “Come on, Morgan. Your secret is safe with me.”

What a hectic week. With an English paper due, a test on Western Civilization to study for, plus the hours I put in at the front desk, my afternoons and nights disappeared. I missed socializing with Chuck and the girls.

Chuck continued to put in twelve-hour days between work and traveling, and only managed to stop by each evening for a brief visit.

Wednesday it seemed I’d hardly closed my eyes when my alarm woke me. I kept slapping at the thing, but it kept blaring, it’s piercing sound deafening.

“Fire!” Paige jumped out of bed and opened the door.

The place had erupted into complete chaos. Girls collided with each other as they ran through the hall. Some panic stricken, others laughing as if they enjoyed the excitement and freedom to be out and about, without the threat of being written up.

“It’s all a hoax,” someone shouted. “Everyone go back to bed.”

“Somebody shut the thing off!” another voice shouted.

“Is it a drill, you think?”

“I don’t think so.” Paige slipped her arms into her black corduroy jacket. “Not this time of night.”

Finally, Mrs. Henderson’s voice screeched over the intercom, “This is not a drill. I repeat: this is not a drill. Everyone leave the building immediately. Monitors, clear the rooms and hallways, now!”

Within minutes, the third floor stood empty of girls. The other monitor and I joined everyone outside. We gathered in the cool, damp night and waited for the city fire department to give the all clear. The longer the wait, the hotter the tempers. It didn’t help when the dorm mother called for repeat bed checks after we were allowed back inside. The absence of two girls justified her decision. By morning, rumor had it that the missing girls had fallen asleep in a car and were unaware of the orders given to return to our rooms. It was also determined that someone pulled the fire alarm. No one confessed to the prank, but we all felt punished when the dean of women scheduled a mandatory in-service the following day.

I don’t think anyone looked forward to the end of the week as much as I did. I’d barely walked out of my last class Friday when Becky snagged me by the arm.

“Morgan,” she gasped, short of breath. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“I’ve lost my wallet. It’s got my student card in it, driver’s license, and over twenty-five dollars.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “We’ll find it. Where did you have it last?”

“In my room, but maybe we should check the cafeteria.” Her wide eyes relaxed as she smiled at two guys walking by.

“Well, did you look in your room?”

She turned and stared at me. “What?”

“I said—”

“Yeah, yeah.” She threaded her arm through mine. “Let’s go.”

We hadn’t gone ten feet, before Becky stopped to talk with a girl from one of her classes. I don’t know how long we would’ve stood there, but unlike us, she apparently had someplace to go.

“Becky, you don’t seem to be in any big rush to find your wallet. I’d be freaking out. You and Mimi are usually packed and ready to leave for the weekend by now. Does she know—” I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart also. “Wait a minute. What’s going on? Is my mom here? Is that what this is all about?”

“No! Of course not.” She did an about-face, taking me with her. “You know I’d come right out and tell you if that were true.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Here.” She tossed me her purse, then leaned down, untied and retied the laces on both shoes. “But you know, now that I’m thinking about it, my wallet could be in the desk drawer.”