Simple Gifts (13 page)

“I'll always need you, Joe. You've been a blessing in my life. I think in some ways you've been the father I never had.”

He shook his head. “You had three fathers, Marlene. God, Herman, and me. Herman wasn't like other fathers, but his love could never be faulted. Fact is, other than God, I don't know anyone who had more unconditional love for you.”

I got up from the table. My relationship with Herman was so—confusing. Maybe my attitude had been detached, but
I
lived the life, not others. Joe didn't understand. No one did. A memory flashed through my mind. Herman picking flowers from the city boxes in the park. He'd presented them to me, as if they were a precious treasure. Tears burned my throat. Where had that come from? How many other things had I forgotten?

Joe finished his tea and stood up to stretch. “I'll be getting along.” He paused. “Marly—I know life's pressing in on you right now. I'm here when you need to rant.”

I smiled, blinking back tears.

He patted my shoulder. “That's what friends are for. Don't forget you have people who care.”

I often forgot; the reminder was nice—and needed.

Six

O
ne thing became more evident than my change of heart about my father: I should never have promised Sara I'd be back so soon. The snare confronting me would take a month, maybe even two, to untangle. My little blessing was anything but sympathetic when I phoned her after Joe left.

“Mom! You promised!”

“I know, darling, and I'm sorry. I need another week. Who knew Aunt Ingrid would take to a wheelchair? And the roofer is behind and can't get here until next week. Aunt Ingrid can't oversee the repairs. One more week, Sara. You can manage, can't you, sweetie?”

Cat screeches in the background drowned out our conversation.

“Petey! Put the cat
down!
“

I winced, holding the phone away from my ear. My daughter's morning sickness apparently had strengthened her lung capacity.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Come home. I can't handle this.”

Oh, but you will, my darling. Your desire to have a large family means sacrifice. Yours, and quite possibly Pete's, if the worst happens and your family medical history is passed down.
I shuddered at the thought.

“I feel abandoned.”

“You're the most cherished daughter in the world. One more week, Sara.”

“But I'm
sick
. I spew five times a day, Mom. I've changed my mind about a big family. If I live through this pregnancy, I promise you, this is my last one.”

Where had I heard that before? Oh yes, with each of Sara's first two pregnancies. How quickly one forgets.

“Battle Hymn of the Republic” filled the room. Aunt Beth's doorbell. I told Sara I'd call her later, and when I opened the door, I was humming the opening notes of the tune. My song died an instant death when I saw the head of the animal-shelter committee, Winston Little, standing on my doorstep. This man kept awful hours. The cheery little figure with the snow-white mustache whipped off his hat, grinning.

“Marlene. So sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I was anxious to continue our prior discussion.”

I peered over his shoulder to see if his shadow, Lily Lippit, accompanied him. She didn't. Millicent was missing too. God was smiling on me.

“Well, now.” He cleared his throat, shuffled his feet. “I'm afraid we left our prior conversation up in the air so to speak.”

“Regarding Herman's statue?”

He nodded. “Now, Marlene—“

I pointedly consulted my watch. “Winston, I don't want a statue of my father put on the animal-shelter lawn.”

“But my dear, your father's generous donation built that shelter. It's only fitting that his image be immortalized.”

“No.”

“Oh my.” Winston fished a hankie from his coat pocket and mopped his forehead. “Mind if I step in for a moment?”

I stepped back, allowing him entrance, though I would rather have admitted a mongoose. I'd said all I wanted to say about the statue. No. A double dozen times no. Let others think I was too embarrassed to allow my father's public image; I knew my real reason. Respect. I respected Herman too much to subject him to more mockery. My childhood memories had nothing to do with it.

Winston wandered into Aunt Beth's parlor. He stood for a moment, his eyes roaming the unorthodox room. I tried to see it through his eyes. Rocks. Big ugly stones littered every table and corner of the room. I'd carried out what I could, but the parlor looked like the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I tiptoed through the room, trying not to put my weight down. I motioned to the sofa, a hideous orange with some sort of putrid purple stripe. “Have a seat.”

“Now, Marlene—”

“No, Winston.”

He sat down, crossing his stubby legs. His pants hiked a good three inches above his black nylon socks. Tiny, once-black hairs covered parchment-colored flesh.

“It's not my intention to twist your arm, but you really must give this matter more thought.” He wiggled in the chair, clearly antsy. Enough already. They had their new animal shelter, why did they insist on more?

“Winston.” I sighed. “I don't wish to be troublesome, but I really don't want a statue. Herman is gone—at peace. I want to keep it that way.”

“Oh my, my.” He mopped at his neck with the hankie. “In that case, I must be frank. The statue
must
be erected.”

I slid to the edge of my chair. “Who says?”

“Because…well, to be honest, Ingrid demands that it be built.”

I came off my seat now. “She
what?
“

“Oh, please—she can't know that I've told you.” He fanned his perspiring face. “She'd have my job for certain. Herman was her stepson, and you know the clout Ingrid carries in this town. If she wants a statue—and she is funding it—we'll put one up. But it would have been nicer if you had cooperated. So much nice—“

“This is an outrage! I
won't
have Herman subjected to further ridicule because of Aunt Ingrid's whim. He was
my
father.”

“And Ingrid's stepson, and if she says statue, we say ‘how big?' “

I argued for over fifteen minutes before Winston took flight. We were at an impasse. Clearly Ingrid's wishes superseded mine.

I stole a glimpse of Winston hotfooting it to his sedan, still wiping his neck.

The very audacity of Aunt Ingrid going over my head.
No
statue.

End of subject

Period.

I'd bought a little more time, but days were passing. The roofer still hadn't showed up, the animal shelter committee had come again, and I barely escaped coming to blows with Millicent, which had given Lily a fit of the vapors. Aunt Ingrid was paralyzed, and Sara had called six times in the past two days. I'd kept count. Six.

And the one person I did want to see pulled into Ingrid's drive around nine that night. How often did that happen? The day had gone so badly, God must have decided I needed a break. Vic swung out of his truck carrying a bouquet of roses so huge he had trouble managing them. They'd cost someone the equivalent of a January utility bill.

Did Aunt Ingrid have a secret admirer? The mere thought of Ingrid with a serious suitor induced a giggle as I opened the screen door to greet him.

The bouquet landed unceremoniously in my arms. “For you.”

“Me?” I stared at the fragrant floral offering, astounded. “Why for me?” Two bouquets of flowers in one evening. What was going on?

“It isn't my birthday.”

“No, but considering the week you've had so far, I figured you might need them.” He grinned, reaching in his pocket and popping a jelly bean into his mouth. The Stetson and the plaid western shirt made him even more cowboyish, a trait I'd never particularly admired in a man until now. He was cute enough to put any woman on point.

“Vic.” I lowered the roses, overcome with gratitude. “How did you know about my problems?”

One dark brow lifted. “You think news of hysterical paralysis doesn't spread like wildfire? Oh, and Sara's called half a dozen times.”

“How did you know about Sara?”

He winked. “Intuition.” He inclined his head to the flowers. “Spotted them in the flower shop on my way home and knew Noel would want you to have them.”

Ingrid's voice bellowed from the bedroom. “Marlene!”

My eyes locked with Vic, eyes that knew me better than I knew myself. How could I have walked away from him regardless of my fears? “I'm right here, Aunt Ingrid.”

“Is that Vic's voice I hear? “Her victim tone was unmistakable.

“It is. He stopped by for a few minutes.”

Vic called. “How are you, Mrs. Moss?”

Our gazes held.

“Oh, not so good, Victor.”

“Sorry to hear it! You take care of yourself!” He nodded to me, eyes still holding mine. “Try and salvage what's left of the evening.”

“Thanks. I will.” I clutched the roses to my chest and watched him walk to his truck.

Noel would want you to have them.

I closed the door feeling as low as a flat frog in a dry well. Vic would never forgive me when my lies surfaced.

Tell him—go after him and tell him now. Clear the air. Then, if God wills, rebuild from the ashes you've made of your life—

“Marlene!”

I clamped my eyes shut. “Yes, Aunt Ingrid?”

“I need help.”

“On my way!”

I searched and found a glass vase, filled it with water, then dumped the contents of a package attached to the bouquet into the water. I'd had a bad day, but Ingrid had had a worse one so I carried the flowers into her bedroom and sat them on the dresser.

Her eyes lit. “Are those for me?”

“They're yours to enjoy.” I rearranged her pillows, straightening the tousled spread. “What did you need?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“I'll help you into the chair.” Once she was aboard, I wheeled her to the bathroom adjoining the kitchen. When she made no attempt to move, I realized I'd become her nurse and caretaker.

Five minutes later I backed out of the room with the chair and closed the door for her privacy in time to hear the doorbell. I glanced at my watch. Eight o'clock! Who could it be now? When I went to answer the summons, there stood a man who looked like a character out of the movie
Deliverance.

Good heavens,
now
what?

“Your neighbor said I could find you here. You call for a roofer?”

“Yeah. Days ago. Let me get a flashlight.” People in Parnass kept the weirdest hours.

I trailed the young man over to Aunt Beth's, where I proceeded to point out by flashlight beam the various spots needing attention. Appearance notwithstanding, he answered my questions and seemed knowledgeable about shingles and soffits.

Time slipped away as I spent more than half an hour discussing the job before the man left.

Ingrid bellowed my name when I walked into the house.

“What?” Good grief. Did she think I was Job?

“Come in here!”

“Come in where?” I scoped out the rooms and couldn't find her anywhere. “Where are you?”

“Where you left me!”

I left her in the—I bolted to the bathroom and tapped. “Get in here!”

I cracked the door and looked in. My aunt was sitting on the commode exactly where I'd left her. “Is something wrong?”

The look she gave me would have fried eggs. When she spoke, her words spilled from gritted teeth like acid. “I can't get the wheels to roll.”

I looked at the commode, then back to her. “Wheels?”

“This chair won't roll!”

Great day in the morning
. She'd sat for over thirty minutes thinking she was in her wheelchair. I returned to the kitchen, got the chair, and pushed it back to the bathroom. After wrestling her into the chair, I pushed her back into the kitchen. “I'm sorry, the roofer came and I lost track of time.”

“Wheels wouldn't roll,” she grumbled. “Shouted your name over and over and you wouldn't come.”

“I'm sorry.” I pushed her to the table and locked the wheels into place. “What would you like?”

“I'd like to go to the bathroom.” She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. “And sister, you'd best hurry.”

Around ten o'clock, I fled Ingrid's in my rental car. I needed time to myself, away from Ingrid, away from my cell phone, which I had turned off, away from the hassle and pressure since I'd returned to Parnass Springs. I was weary of being at everyone's beck and call. I needed space.

With no particular destination in mind, I drove until I reached City Park. Serenity beckoned; I slowed and turned in. Years ago the park had been a refuge. I used to come here and swing, pushing the little wooden seat higher and higher, pretending I could soar away from Parnass Springs and my life. I had to slip off without Herman knowing. He liked to swing too, but his cheerful chatter would interrupt my despondent thoughts.

Looking back, I could see the situation was never as desperate as I'd felt. Why had it taken me so long to start seeing my life through an adult's eyes?

The swings were empty at this hour. My gaze roamed the deserted area. Would the therapy be as effective today?

I parked the car and got out, then wandered to the grassy knoll. As far as I could see, crime was non-existent in Parnass. The town was one of a few left where a woman could go swing in the park at night and not fear for her safety. Tall floodlights lit the area bright as day.

When I approached the row of swings, I saw none other than Miss Lily Lippet, from the statue committee. What was she doing here, sitting on a bench by herself at this time of night? She had on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, navy blue T-shirt—attire not nearly as intimidating as her no-nonsense business suit. She gave me a tentative smile. “Ah…good evening, Mrs. Queens. Lovely night, isn't it?”

“Mrs. Lippit, yes, it certainly is. I wasn't sure it was you.”