Not Your Everyday Housewife (21 page)

At first, she refused to talk about the angioplasty except to say, “Doc said the angie plasty opened my arteries, but I can’t have no more fat backs and green beans nor nothing like that.” She adjusted the canary scarf tied around her little pot belly and sank cross-legged on the floor in the living room. “Enough about that. I want to talk about living, not dying. That’s why I wanted you girls to come.”

Derry lay spread out on the floor with her head resting on a fuchsia pillow. Shea sat next to Tula Rae, mimicking her cross-legged pose, and Cyn slouched beside Derry. It was almost midnight, and Earl Gray had gone to bed hours ago. Tula Rae laughed and said he probably wanted to enjoy his last few hours as a single man.

They all knew better.

“We’re not sitting here all night squawking about what is and isn’t. Got it?” She waited for each one to nod before she continued. “I been keeping an eye on you girls and, frankly, there’s some things need fixing. Oh, no, don’t you look away, Cyn. You know for sure I’m talking about you, don’t you?”

“I know.” The words spilled out like a moan.

“Okay, then. All’s you got to ask yourself, is do you love him or not?”

“I love him.” She’d never loved any man but Sam.

“Then why in the be-Jesus ain’t you with him? You want to cuddle at night with them fancy pieces of furniture you keep buying?”

Cyn shook her head. What had started out as angry self-righteousness had turned into confused awkwardness. She wanted to snatch pieces of her new life and plunk them in her old life. A do-over of sorts. If only she could close her eyes, spin around three times and end up back in her old kitchen, mixing a batch of chocolate oatmeal cookies and discussing dollar cost averaging on her new cell phone with her latest client.

Maybe she
could
have slices of both lives.

“People make mistakes.” Tula Rae jabbed at her chest. “I’m a big one for that, but the real mistake is not being big enough to admit it and fix it.”

“I know.” Cyn’s eyes misted as she fingered the diamond studs Sam had given her for Christmas. They were half carat, beautiful, and easily several months’ salary. It had been a gift of desperation, not love, and she hated herself for driving him to it.

“So go to your man and tell him you love him. And for the Lord Almighty’s sake, get back into bed with him.”

“I will.” Cyn sniffed, her path suddenly illuminated by Tula Rae’s backwoods philosophizing. She needed to call Sam tonight, needed to tell him she loved him, and that she was coming home.

“Got it?” Tula Rae screwed up her tanned face and waited.

“Got it.” And for the first time in months, the smile on her face was real.

“Good. Now, I got to tell you something about your husband.” She grinned and pulled out several sheets of paper from underneath the couch. “You know how you told us all about that Maid-for-You mixer of yours, and how thoughtful Sam was?” She shook her frizzy head. “Honey, these here papers spell out the reason he bought you that mixer and it all boils down to one simple word. S-E-X.”

Cyn stared at her, then at the papers. “What are you talking about?”

Tula Rae flapped the papers above her head. “Sex! And don’t think nothing else. Listen here and tell me if it don’t remind you of something.” She pulled the papers in front of her and squinted.
“Stiff powerhead, extreme performance, deep drive.”

Derry laughed. Shea giggled. Cyn sputtered, “They’re talking about the mixer, that’s all.”

“Hold your horses, there’s more.” Tula Rae cleared her throat and went on,
“Long lasting motor, soft start, tilt-up head.”

“Oooohhh,” Derry moaned, “I want one with the tilt-up head.”

“Length, 8 3/4 inches.”

“Wow.” Shea’s eyes widened.

“Depth- 12 1/2 inches.”

“Ouch!” Derry put a hand over her crotch.

“And there’s accessories to boot,” Tula Rae said, laughing.
“Flat-cross beater, hook, wire
whip,
and can’t forget my personal favorite,
the protective pouring shield.”

“Cyn, I didn’t know you were into whips,” Derry said, hiding a smile.

“I’m with Tula Rae on the protective pouring shield,” Shea said. “No drips, no fuss, no muss.”

A tiny giggle escaped Cyn’s lips. Then another, until it turned into full-blown laughter and the rest joined in, doubled up and howling.

“Flat-cross beater,” Derry croaked.

“How about a hook?” Shea squealed. “What are they hooking?”

“Guess,” Cyn gasped in between laughs.

“Now, you girls think this ain’t about sex?” Tula Rae asked. “Personally, along with the protective pouring shield, I like the soft start, deep drive.”

“Tula Rae!” Derry exclaimed, “We’ll never be able to look at a Maid-for-You mixer in the same way again.”

“Good.” She grinned at Cyn. “Now that man of yours don’t seem so dull, does he?”

“No, not at all,” Cyn said softly.

“The onliest question I’d be asking right now”—she pointed to Shea and Derry—“would be, how can I get my man to get me one of those.”

“Or two,” Derry said, her lips spreading into a Cheshire-cat grin. “They come in very cool colors, you know. Personally, I’d choose the Hot Tamale.”

“Strawberry Parfait,” Shea added when Tula Rae pointed to her.

“I think maybe Earl Gray’s getting me one for a wedding present,” Tula Rae whispered. “Now that’s sexy.”

“Do you really think men buy them for the subliminal sex messages?” Derry asked.

Tula Rae lifted her bony shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “It don’t matter. If we tell them it reminds us of sex, and then start reading some of what I just did, it’ll get their motors running faster than a porno book.”

“You think so?” Shea asked, clearly intrigued.

“Tula Rae knows men. Ain’t I had four husbands, soon to be five? Trust me on this one, if a woman tells her man a potato’s sexy, he’ll buy her a bushel just so she’ll get all gushy and lovey-dovey.”

“Okay, Dr. Ruth, we believe you,” Derry said.

“Now, back to business,” Tula Rae said, pointing at Derry. “There’s no need to go on and on about you, ’cause I think we all know that story.”

A slow smile spread over Derry’s face. “Thank you for everything, Tula Rae. Alec can’t wait to meet you tomorrow.”

“Same here.”

“Does he know about this wedding?”

“No, ma’am, but he’s getting here just in time to witness it. Just ya’ll and I invited two other guests. That’s it.”

“Now I wish I’d brought Charlie,” Derry said. “But I hated to pull him from school and Vivien loves keeping him.”

“I kind of wish I’d brought Kiki and Janie,” Cyn said. “They’d have loved to meet you.”

“Well, I just wish you’d told us something,” Shea groaned. “All I brought were jeans and sweaters. How’s that going to look at a wedding?”

“Just be careful somebody don’t mistake you for the bride,” Tula Rae said, “’cause that’s what I’m wearing.”

That made Shea laugh. “Then we’ll be your bridesmaids, all dressed in denim and wool.”

“Good enough.” Tula Rae winked at her. “Now, speaking of you, honey, I’m glad to hear you finally kicked that sorry ass husband of yours out.”

“He really thought I’d pay his child support for him.”

“Now just think, Tanya can teach Richard how to change diapers,” Derry said.

“They deserve each other,” Shea said.

Tula Rae laughed. “God’s revenge is always so much better than anything we humans can conjure up. And what about your kids? I hear they’re on their own so to speak?”

“You mean are they going to have to join the real world and work their way through school? No more summer vacations or lounging in coffee houses during the school year. And, they’ve got to pick more affordable schools and apply for student loans. Maybe even look into scholarships, which aren’t going to happen unless Georgetown gives them out for 2.2 GPA’s.”

Tula Rae sucked in a long breath, blew it out and said, “You’re finally thinking of Shea, ain’t you, girl?”

Shea nodded. “Finally.”

“Marcus been asking about you.”

“Oh. What did you tell him?”

“That you was coming to see me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

Tula Rae talked non-stop, packing sixty some years of lessons into sixty minutes. She advised them on life, love, settling for second best, and how to make a good turkey loaf. Finally, when her voice grew hoarse, they yawned their way upstairs.

Cyn closed her bedroom door and searched the room for her purse. She snatched it from the nightstand and fished out her cell phone, punching in Sam’s number.
I’m coming home, Sam. I love you.

But no one answered and when the machine kicked in, she ended the call. For just a second, she thought of redialing but an awful possibility settled in her stomach.

***

Snow blanketed Ogunquit the morning of Tula Rae’s wedding. Derry paced the small kitchen, peeking out the window as chunks of snow clumped to the ground. “I knew his coming was a bad idea,” she groaned, rubbing her stomach. “Nobody travels to Maine in January unless it’s an emergency.”

“He’ll be fine, girl.” Tula Rae sliced another piece of pumpkin roll. “Ain’t gonna do you no good if you get yourself all worked up.”

“Let’s go check the computer,” Cyn offered. “Maybe we can see when he’s scheduled to land. Can you get me his flight information?”

“Damn.” Derry smacked her forehead. “I left it at home.”

“Okay, we’ll figure it out.”

“This pregnancy is frying my brains. By the time I deliver, I’ll be a babbling idiot.”

Shea laughed. “Welcome to motherhood.”

“Let’s not forget her man.” Tula Rae unwrapped another pumpkin roll. “I’d say he’s as much responsible for her scatterbrains as the baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, girl, you finally admitted he’s part of your breath. I know how it is to deny it so long you start believing it.” She paused and said softly, “And then when you almost lose it, you see the truth.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Uh, Derry,” Shea called from her perch at the back window, “I think you should come see this.”

“What? Another red-winged blackbird?” She laughed and made her way to Shea’s side.

“There?” Shea pointed. “Isn’t that Alec’s Volvo?”

Derry squinted. “It sure looks like it. What the—”

The front door opened just then and Alec’s deep voice reached her. “She’ll be madder than a hornet.”

“Alec Rohan, you devil you!” Derry flew down the hall and hurled herself at her husband so hard he fell back a step. She clutched his middle and swore softly, “Damn you.”

He laughed and pulled her closer. “Nice to see you too, baby.” Alec buried his face in her hair and murmured, “God, but I missed you.”

“You drove?” She eased away and looked up at him. “I was worried sick about you. Why’d you drive?”

He shrugged and started to say, “It just seemed like a good—” He stopped mid-sentence and jerked his head toward the door. “Call it playing the Good Samaritan.”

The door opened again and a man dressed in a black down jacket and stocking cap stepped inside. When he pulled off his stocking cap, Derry sputtered, “Oh, my God.”

“Hello, Cyn.” It was Sam.

Derry swung around to see Cyn standing in the doorway framing the kitchen. “Well, isn’t this just a surprise all the way around?”

“I tried to call you last night.” Cyn moved toward him slowly.

“I was on the road.”

“Where are the girls?”

He pointed to Alec. “Vivien was kind enough to offer to keep them until I got back.”

“Thank you, Alec.”

He laughed. “My mother always wanted girls. I guess now she’ll get a taste of it.”

Derry grabbed her husband’s hand and said, “Let’s go in the kitchen. I want you to meet Tula Rae, and you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“Is that any way to greet a man who’s braved this weather to get to his wife?” He smiled down at her and pulled her into his arms. When his lips touched hers, Derry groaned.

“Later,” she whispered. “I think I’ll need a nap this afternoon and I think you should take one with me.”

“Sleep kind, or the other kind of nap?” he murmured against her ear.

She pressed her body against his and said softly, “There’s only one kind of nap with you, Alec Rohan.” They kissed again. As Derry led her husband to the kitchen, she called over her back, “Good to see you again, Sam. Vivien made another pot of chili for you. You can pick it up on your way home.”

“Thanks.”

“Alec’s mother is cooking for you?” Cyn asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

He shrugged. “She makes great chili.” He slid out of his coat and folded it over his left arm. Cyn caught the glint of gold from his wedding band as he smoothed his hair in place.

“I could’ve made you chili, if you’d asked me.”

“Cyn.” He reached out and touched the side of her face. “I didn’t travel five hundred miles to talk about chili.” His soft, gray eyes burrowed into her, stripping away months of defenses. “I came for you.”

Her heart skipped ten beats. “I’m glad.”

“I want to start again,” he began, trailing his fingers down her throat to her shoulder. “You’re in my heart, Cyn, and always will be. I’m not a poet or a smooth talker. I pick out appliances instead of jewelry.”

“I love my mixer.”

He laughed and shook his head. “It was a stupid idea. Just like the computer chair, and the foot spa. Women want things they can show off like diamonds”—he fingered the stud on her left ear— “or rubies. Or maybe even cars.”

“That’s not true, at least not for me.” She clasped his hand and brought it to her cheek. “I never felt more loved or wanted as I did when you handed me the Maid-for-You gift certificate.” She thought of Tula Rae’s words the night before and said, “Those mixers are very sexy, if you think about it. They’ve got extreme performance, deep drive, and power knead capabilities.” She ran a hand down his shirt to the edge of his belt. “Just like you. And then there’s the tilt-up head.” She licked her lips. “And 8 3/4 inches.”