Seasons Under Heaven (6 page)

John didn’t take Cathy directly to the restaurant. Instead, he told her she needed to relax, and he knew just the thing. He drove to the top of Bright Mountain to park at the Point, and as the lights flickered on across Breezewood just before dusk, he tried to skip at least three of the natural dating steps.

She pushed him away and got out of the car.

“Aw, come on. What’sa matter?” he asked as he followed her.

“John, you asked me to dinner, and I said yes, that I’d love to have
dinner
with you. I didn’t come out with you tonight to get groped and manhandled.”

He looked wounded and misunderstood. “I thought comin’ up here would help you relax. I’m tryin’ to be romantic.”

“I don’t want to be romantic with you,” she said. “I hardly even know you.”

He pretended to pull a knife out of his heart. “And here I thought you liked me. You seemed so free and loose around the clinic.”

“Free and loose?” she repeated. “How do you figure that?”

He shrugged. “I just mean that bouncy ponytail and those Keds, and you always have a big smile for me.”

“That’s free and loose? You must be kidding.”

He chuckled as though he
was
kidding. “Come on, get in the car. I’ll take you to dinner.”

Sighing, she got back into the car, closed the door, and hooked her seat belt. He dropped in on the other side.

“Tell me something,” she said, still angry as he pulled the car back onto the road. “I’m just curious. Do other women you go out with really allow you to grope them before your car engine has even warmed up?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Come to think of it, most of ‘em don’t. Maybe I need to change my technique.” He gave her an apologetic glance. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for tryin’. So where do you want to eat?”

She found that she wasn’t hungry anymore. “I don’t care, John. Frankly, I’d rather just go home.”

“But that’s scandalous,” he said. “I can’t take a gal home after less than an hour!”

“Scandalous?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Come on, John, you’re not going to get what you came for, so just take me on home. Consider it a dating nightmare.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine,” she shot back. “Only it’s usually my nightmare for my daughter. I never dreamed
I’d
be the one to be attacked. I thought the hormones kind of leveled off when you reached middle age.”

He was more offended by her assessment of his age than his behavior. “Come on, I’m not that old!”

“Just take me home.”

“Man, you can hold a grudge!” he bit out. “I said I was sorry, for Pete’s sake! My worst crime was bein’ attracted to a good-lookin’ woman. Sue me.”

When he missed the turn that would have taken them to her house, she shot him a look. “Where are we going?”

“To a restaurant,” he said.

“I
told
you to take me home.”

“Well, I’m not gonna do it.” His tone was softer, more conciliatory. “We’re goin’ to a restaurant, we’re gonna eat, we’re gonna enjoy each other’s company—and you’ll forgive me. I messed up, okay? I shouldn’t have got so friendly so soon. It’s just that you’re such a knockout. I couldn’t help it.”

She wondered if that was meant to flatter her. “I don’t
want
to have dinner with you, John.”

He pulled into the restaurant parking lot and let the car idle. “Relax. It’s just dinner. I can’t do anything to you in front of all these people.”

She couldn’t believe all the arrangements she’d made, the stupid dress, the makeup. She felt like such a fool. Now she felt like some three-year-old, holding her breath until she got her way, refusing to budge—and it was John who’d put her in this awkward position. She remembered why she hated men.

“Guess I don’t blame you for bein’ mad,” he said in a softer voice. “I really don’t behave this way with every woman I go out with. In fact, I don’t even date all mat much. I’m a real homebody. I was just a little nervous before I picked you up, so I had a glass of wine. It must have just loosened me up a little too much.”

She tried to appear disinterested, but finally she sneaked a peak at him. “You were nervous about taking me out?”

“Of course I was. You’re a beautiful, classy blonde who has everything goin’ for her. I figure you’re the town catch. What would you possibly see in a good ole boy like me?”

Something about the vulnerability in his confession softened her attitude toward him. She sat quietly for a moment. He let the quiet pass between them. Finally, she glanced toward the restaurant. It was Alexander’s, and she’d been wanting to go there. What harm could it do to let him buy her a steak?

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But please don’t drink anymore. It doesn’t become you.”

He nodded and they went in, and she tried to forget the first part of the date as the second rolled by.

It wasn’t that John was a poor conversationalist; it was just that his choice of topics was limited. After the first half hour of talking about himself, she’d wished they could move on to another topic. But he hadn’t exhausted all the possibilities yet. He had just exhausted her.

She had a headache by the time the meal was over. Though he’d had no more to drink, and she hoped the food had dulled his appetite, she found him getting familiar again as they drove home.

“Sure you don’t want to go back up to the Point?”

“Positive. Take me home, John. I need to get there before my daughter does.”

“How old is she, anyway?”

“Fifteen.”

“She doesn’t need a baby-sitter. She can take care of herself.”

“Take me home, John.”

With a huff that reminded her of a frustrated kid, he headed to Cedar Circle.

Barry wasn’t home at eight-thirty. With each moment that passed, Tory grew more and more agitated. She got the kids bathed for the third time that day and put them to bed. But instead of going to bed herself or re-creating her four pages in longhand, she decided to ride her stationary bicycle while watching the clock and stewing.

When her odometer registered ten miles, she showered and decided to read for a while. She ignored the novels on her shelf and chose instead a self-help book her mother had bought her for Christmas on fulfilling your own destiny.

By the time she heard Barry pulling into the garage, she had read a whole chapter about setting goals and prioritizing time, something that had only made her angrier about her life. The author of the book obviously didn’t have two children, a congealed computer keyboard, and a husband who came home late.

As she listened to the garage door shutting, she tried to decide how to greet him. Should she meet him in anger and
lambaste him for being so late, or should she force herself into the submissive role and flutter around him like he was the prodigal son?

By the time he opened the door, she had decided to do none of the above, and instead, had put on her shoes and pushed past him into the garage without a word. He looked surprised and turned around to follow her out. “Where ya goin’?”

“To talk to Brenda,” she said curtly. “Joseph got sick today. I want to make sure he’s all right. The kids are asleep.”

“Bad day?” he asked her back.

She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask. She turned around and gave him a disgusted look. “
Long
day. Made longer by the fact that my husband and partner in child rearing didn’t make it home until after the kids were in bed.”

“You could have kept them up.”

“I didn’t know how long you’d be since you’re later than you said.”

He rolled his eyes as if contemplating the wisdom of coming home at all. “Well, we got the account.”

“Bully for you.”

She opened the garage door and headed out. She heard the door slam behind her.

Darkness was just falling over the ridge, a little darker than twilight, but lighter than full-blown night. The sky offered a lunar half-grin much like the birds’ “fail-ure” cries of this morning, and she turned her eyes to the ground. It was cool and breezy now, unlike the day that made children smell and mothers perspire and little boys faint. A foggy mist rendered the Smoky Mountains invisible even with all the lights usually dotting their sides.

As she crossed the lot next to her house, she heard voices and saw that Brenda and Sylvia were sitting on the Dodds’ front porch swing, talking quietly in the darkness. As she approached, Tory wondered if she was intruding on a private moment. She thought of going back in, but then she would have to tangle with Barry. She decided to take her chances with her neighbors.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked as she approached.

“Tory!” Brenda said. “Come sit down. We were just catching up on the day.”

Catching up, Tory thought. Did that ever really happen? “I came to see how Joseph is,” she said, stepping onto the porch and pulling two wicker rockers close to the swing. She sat down in one and propped her feet in the other one.

“Well…we’re not sure,” Brenda said. “He may be fine.”

Tory fixed her eyes on Brenda. “What do you mean,
may
be?”

Brenda looked as if she was having trouble getting the words out, and Sylvia intervened. “They’re going for more tests tomorrow. They’re not sure what made him faint yet.”

This sounded serious, and Tory dropped her feet and leaned forward, as if that would help her to understand more clearly. “What kind of tests, Brenda?”

Brenda sighed. “His heart…it seems to be enlarged a little. We have to take him to a pediatric cardiac surgeon.”

“They have those?” Tory asked. It had never occurred to her that there were children with heart problems.

“Yes, apparently,” Brenda said. “But he’s okay. As soon as the light-headedness passed, he felt fine. We’ve kept him quiet for the rest of the day, made him take it easy. It’s probably just a virus or something. Or they misread the X-rays. That happens, you know. They make mistakes all the time.”

Tory felt the pressure on her own chest, and tried to imagine having one of her children pass out at his birthday party, and then being told that it was due to an enlarged heart. “I’d be a basket case,” she said quietly. “Brenda, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Brenda said with that smile that seemed a permanent part of her expression. “I mean, it’s a little nerve-wracking. But things will be all right.”

Headlights lit up the entrance to Cedar Circle, and they all watched a strange car pull into Cathy’s driveway. Their neighbor got out and headed for the door. The driver followed a little too quickly.

“Date?” Sylvia asked.

“Guess so,” Tory said. She smiled as she gazed across the street. “Cathy’s lucky.”

“Lucky?” Brenda asked. “Why would you say that?”

“Because. She gets to go out with handsome men who take her to restaurants and shows. Barry hasn’t taken me out in two months. He barely comes home.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sylvia said. “He’s home every night. It’s not like he’s a traveling salesman.”

“He may sleep at home,” Tory insisted, “but take tonight. One of the worst days I can remember in a long time, and ten minutes ago he finally strolled in.”

“Then why aren’t you home with him?”

Tory looked up at Sylvia, almost amused at the point-blank question. But Sylvia wasn’t smiling. “No, I’m serious,” Sylvia went on. “If you’re complaining about him not being home enough, why aren’t you there when he is?”

Deflated, Tory started to get to her feet. “You’re right. I’ll go home.” It reminded her of childhood when one of her friends would offend her, and biting her bottom lip she would gather her toys and leave. Hadn’t she outgrown that feeling that she didn’t belong in any group, and that those who included her were just politely biding their time until she left?

“We’re not trying to run you off,” Brenda said quickly, ever the peacemaker. “Sylvia wasn’t telling you to go home, were you, Sylvia?”

“Of course not,” Sylvia said, but her tone suggested that home was exactly where she thought Tory belonged. “I’m just trying to point out that he’s there now.”

“I know he is,” Tory snapped back. “But I’m a little mad at him right now.”

“Okay,” Sylvia said. “I guess that’s fair. Goodness knows there were nights in my younger days when I got mad at Harry for coming in so late. Until I finally grew up and realized that, in his mind, he was doing it as much for me as for his patients. He just thought he was providing, the way he was supposed to.”

“Barry isn’t out saving lives,” Tory said. “It was just a stupid metalworks account, which could have waited, or at least taken less time.”

“My point is that you seem to wish you could be like Cathy, dating again. But I don’t think you want to be in her shoes. Think how much of your life you’ve invested in Barry. He’s your partner. If all that was gone, you’d have to start over with men you don’t know. It doesn’t look like much fun.”

Tory was skeptical. “Cathy seems to be having fun.”

No sooner had those words left her mouth than Cathy’s date marched back out to his car, slammed the door, and peeled out of the driveway. They all looked at each other and laughed.

The door opened again and Cathy, suddenly in blue jeans and T-shirt, bounded out. She must have shed her dress the way Spencer shed his Sunday clothes—in five seconds flat. She came across the street, pulling her hair up in a ponytail as she reached them.

“I saw you three out here gawking at me as I drove up,” she said, “so I thought I’d come over and tell you every little gory detail before I get Mark to come home.”

“So who was he?” Tory asked, undaunted by Cathy’s sarcasm.

“Some guy who brings his Himalayan to me every time it throws up. Seemed like a nice guy in the office. Looks can be deceiving, though.”

“You didn’t have a good time?” Brenda asked.

Cathy took the rocker where Tory’s feet had been and plopped into it. “I had a good meal. Let’s leave it at that.”

“You’re home early,” Brenda said. “Mark and Daniel are probably still up.”

“Yeah, that’s the real reason I came over. I figured I’d send Mark back home so I could be the one to scrape him off the sheets in the morning before school.” She finished putting her hair in the ponytail and slapped her hands hard on her thighs. “Since we’re all here, I might as well make it official. I’m giving up dating. It’s not worth it.”

“Why?” Tory asked, amazed.

Cathy braced her elbows on her knees, an unfeminine gesture that looked quite feminine when Cathy did it. Her skin looked like that of a porcelain doll, and she was so thin she looked breakable. She had long, tapered fingers that moved like those of an artist or musician, and bright blue eyes that men gravitated to. She was spirited, like the Bryans’ mare, but she didn’t let feminist convention dictate her behavior. Last weekend at the wedding, Cathy looked almost glamorous.

“I was getting ready tonight, and Annie was getting ready for
her
date, and it just struck me that there’s something terribly unnatural about all this. She was giving me tips and telling me what I should wear, and I thought the roles were reversed. I was supposed to be doing that for her, not the other way around.”

“But you can’t just give it up,” Tory said. “You could date on the weekends when the kids are out of town.”

“Date who?” Cathy asked. “I’ve just about had it. This guy tonight was all over me. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy, but he turned out to be an octopus with hands everywhere.”

“What a disappointment,” Sylvia said.

“You said it. But I don’t know where to meet nice men.” She shook her head, and that ponytail slapped each side of her head. “I don’t go to bars. I’m afraid I’ll run into my children there…”

There was a moment of stunned silence. No one ever knew for sure when Cathy was serious. But after a moment, she let that deadpan face break into a smile. “Hey, I’m kidding.”

They all laughed softly. “Have you tried church?” Brenda asked.

Cathy looked uncomfortable, as she always did when the subject of church came up. “No, but going to church to find a man seems a little wrong, too. On the other hand, it sure wouldn’t hurt my kids to get a little spiritual training. You’re not going to believe what I found in Rick’s pocket today.”

“What?” Tory asked.

“A condom. He got it at school. In a sex ed class.”

“He didn’t,” Brenda said.

“Oh, yeah. Imagine the things your kids miss when you homeschool, Brenda.”

Brenda didn’t seem to find that funny. “So what are you going to do about it?” She had thrown down the gauntlet, and they all knew it. Brenda was big on challenges, but she issued them with such a sweet tone that no one was ever offended.

“What
can
I do? I can’t homeschool, like you. I have to make a living. And I can’t take them out and put them in private school—some of those are just as bad, and besides, I can’t afford it.” She looked around at the faces of Tory and Sylvia. “Yeah, I know, I could take on the school board and change all the policies, before they start messing with Mark’s hormones. And I’m thinking about how to do that. It’s just not easy, and time is not a commodity I have a lot of right now.” She looked down at her watch and tried to read it in the light from the street lamp at the entrance to Cedar Circle. “Speaking of time…don’t you think the baseball game should be over by now?”

Tory was having trouble following the thread of Cathy’s rambling. “Baseball game? What’s that got to do with condoms?”

“Nothing, except that every boy on the team got one, as well as every boy in the school, including the boy that Annie is out with as we speak.” She leaned back hard in the chair and brushed her fingers through her bangs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dominate the conversation like that. It’s just been an incredibly bad day.”

“We can relate,” Tory said. “The kids spilled Kool-Aid on my computer. Oh, and Joseph passed out at his birthday party today.” The two events seemed equally tragic to Tory.

Cathy shot Brenda a look. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah, fine, I think.” Tory wasn’t surprised at Brenda’s lie—it wasn’t like Brenda to dump her problems out for everyone to examine. Sometimes Tory wished she would. To her, Brenda was some kind of mythical supermom who did all the right things and never had a negative thought. Just once, she’d love to see Brenda fall apart, get angry, lose her cool. It certainly would help Tory relate to her better.

“Sylvia’s the only one who’s had a peaceful day, I bet,” Tory said, smiling at the matriarch of the neighborhood.

“Not really,” Sylvia said. The swing stopped, and Sylvia swept her frosted pageboy behind her ears. “See, Harry came home today for lunch and asked me if I would think about going to Nicaragua as a full-time missionary.”

“A
what?
” Cathy threw her head back and laughed uproariously, as if she’d never heard anything so funny in her life. Tory found it less amusing, and Brenda wasn’t smiling at all. “Has he gone off the deep end? Sylvia, what did you say?”

Sylvia seemed puzzled by Cathy’s response. “Well…I said I’d think about it. And no, he isn’t going off the deep end. It’s something he’s always wanted to do. We’ve talked about it before. Now that the kids are gone…”

Cathy’s smile faded, and she looked at Tory, then at Brenda, and realized that no one but she was laughing. “You’re serious. You’re really thinking about this.”

Sylvia drew in a deep breath and let it out hard. Tory didn’t think she had ever heard Sylvia sigh before. “Thinking about it. That’s all. I don’t know if I could do it. Sell the house, the furniture, leave the country…”

“Why would you
do
that?” Cathy asked. “Why would
he?
You have it so good here. You’re so happy. He’s a prominent cardiac surgeon. He’s worked all his life to be where he is. What could possibly be in Nicaragua for you?”