Slow Dancing (21 page)

“We gotta do something about that,” he said, laughing. “A trip to the beach or a carnival, but not the smelly garage.” The phone rang.

“Frank’s Garage,” he said.

“It’s Boyd. What can I do for you?”

“Ellen wants to know why Mr. Johnson thinks she could be his daughter? What’s his reasons?”

“Well, let me remember exactly what he said,” Boyd replied, pausing. “He said he was in a relationship with Margaret Fisher and he left for a job transfer to Galveston and they lost touch. But he found out recently she’d had a baby after he left and he suspected the baby was his.”

“That seems like pretty flimsy reason to me,” Frank said. Ellen strained to get closer to the ear piece, but Franks moved further away and frowned.

“I think it would be perfectly acceptable for the two of you to confront him yourself if you are comfortable with it. He said you were doing a fine job of raising her and he didn’t want to interfere.”

“It doesn’t explain why he’s comin’ forward now,” Frank said.

“I can’t answer for him,” Boyd said. “I’m sorry this is all coming on at once.”

“Yeah, it does sort of make one think there might a connection, doesn’t it.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Frank. I’m not privileged to reveal who made the accusations, but I can tell you it wasn’t Johnson.”

“Okay, well thanks anyway.” They said goodbye and hung up. Ellen was waiting for him to tell her what Boyd said. “We can talk to him ourselves.”

“That was his answer? Gosh, thanks a lot.”

“Yes, well he said the man doesn’t want to interfere, in so many words.”

“Then why bother coming forward? I guess I’m too young or too stupid to understand.” Frank reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. He dare not hug her in case someone was watching.

“Let’s go over to Paul’s and ask him ourselves.” He automatically locked up the garage to walk next door.

“Can’t believe I’m lockin’ up. Things sure have changed,” Frank said shaking his head.

“I see that,” Ellen replied. “Can’t be too careful now.”

Alan was going over an invoice and looked up when they walked in. Ellen had her eyes on him, trying to feel some kinship, but there was nothing. They might have shared a similar hairline, and his ears looked familiar. He was so lanky; Ellen had tried Margaret’s brassieres on and she was ample busted compared to the slender Ellen. Maybe she took after Alan Johnson’s women more than she took after her mother in that respect.

“We heard from the sheriff today. About your claim to be Ellen’s dad.”

“Let me clarify that,” Alan quickly said, looking to Ellen. “I believe I might be your father, but make no claim to it. I hope you’d be willing to take a test.”

“What makes you believe it?” Ellen asked. “What happened that made you think of me?”

“I was looking for your mother,” Alan said. “When I left Florida for Texas, she was supposed to follow me, but she never showed up. So when I got sacked I had the time to go lookin’ for her again and someone from her old work place told me she’d had a baby, that she’d lost her job and left Saint Augustine with you. The timing was right for you to be mine.”

“And you didn’t know she was gonna have a baby?”

“No, she didn’t tell me and then I left town. I borrowed money from her and never paid her back,” he answered, ashamed. Ellen thought about it for a moment before she continued on.

“Why’d you come lookin’ for me in Seymour?” Ellen asked, still unsatisfied. “How’d that come about?”

“It was serendipity,” he answered. “I stopped for lunch in Mobile and found this article.” He’d taken the newspaper article about the ninth-grade graduation dance from Mary, pulling it out of his pocket to show them. “Then I met Miss Logan at the boarding house. She started talking about your mother and I found out she’d died. I’m very sorry, by the way.

“I’m sorry I was snooping around your woods. Also, that I came here and didn’t introduce myself right away. I wasn’t sure it was really you.”

Having to navigate her manipulative mother, Ellen had a sense about people and it was telling her that Alan Johnson was somewhat the scoundrel who couldn’t be trusted completely. But he had nothing to gain as far as she could tell, by claiming her as his child.

“What’d you want from us?” Frank asked.

“Nothin’, I swear,” Alan replied, looking at Ellen again. “I don’t have anything to offer you, but I don’t want anything either. Just to know you, if you are my child. And if you don’t want to know me, well I’ll live with it.” Ellen looked at Frank and he could tell by her eyes she’d had enough.

“We’ll talk to the sheriff about what the next step should be then,” Frank said, putting out his hand to shake Alan’s outstretched. They turned and left the parts store and started walking to the truck.

“I guess I’ll take the test,” Ellen said. “It can’t hurt nothin’. But you know Frank that even if he’s my father, it don’t mean a thing to me. You’re my dad, always.”

“Thank you, sister. I appreciate it.” As they reached the truck, Frank just happened to look up at Miss Logan’s. She was standing in the window watching but she quickly turned away when she saw him looking over, not waving at him in acknowledgment, as she would have in the past. “Well, look at that. Miss Logan just turned her back on me. You suppose she’s listening to gossip?”

“Gossip probably originated with Miss Logan,” Ellen said smugly. “Know that she and Mary are closely related in the gossip department. Which one said it first might be up for debate. But it’s not very nice of me to say so, so I better be quiet.” It never occurred to Frank that it could have been Miss Logan who saw them hugging in the car until that second.

“You don’t say?” Frank said, staring at the salon. “I should stroll over there and have a little chat with her. What do you think?” Ellen looked over at the salon, at the smudged windows with the fading signage and the disintegrating brick work in front. Miss Logan was rather pathetic; not that old, but old enough, she didn’t have much of a life with her boarding house address and public transportation, her seedy building which stood next to the flawlessness of Frank’s Garage.

“No, I say let her be. If she was the instigator, it will come out soon enough. It will probably help her business.”

“I noticed business at the garage was next to a stampede today and we supposed to be closed,” Frank said, smiling. But Ellen was ready to move on, anger at Miss Logan and Alan Johnson, Boyd Dalton and her own mother surfacing again so that the few seconds of respite making fun of Miss Logan provided had passed.

“Let’s go to the clinic and get
it
over with,” Ellen said. “I feel sick to my stomach again.”

“I do, too. Although it don’t matter at all to me, I always knew you were another man’s child, Ellen. But it never made bit of difference to me. Not one iota.” He put the key in the ignition and the truck started up fine, so that he gunned it a little to give her a thrill like it used to when she was a small girl. It worked again and she laughed.

“You called me
dada
the first time we laid eyes on each other. Grabbed my hand and said it, so that your mother started to laugh. She told me right off that she wasn’t married to your father.”

“Why not, I wonder? It’s scandalous nowadays; it must have been horrible for her then.” Ellen imagined her mother, alone, unwed.
If Alan was the father, did he flee? Why didn’t she bother to tell him? He said he owed her money. That she’d lost her job after a time. How desperate was she?
“Poor momma,” Ellen said. “No wonder she was off her rocker that far back.”

“She took wonderful care of you, sister. Your little dresses ironed as carefully as if she was fixin’ to wear them herself. Our first date you came with us. The drive-in movie. You sat between us and then fell asleep with your head in her lap and your feet up against me.”

“It was lucky she found someone like you, Frank.”

“I said the same thing about her. I was lucky to find someone like Margaret. Her breakin’ down in front of my garage, now that was a blessing. I don’t even want to think about what my life would be without you.” He shook his head, trying to put the horrible thought out, and putting the truck into gear, they drove to the medical office in silence.

After the encounter with Frank and Ellen, Alan felt sick, as well. It was near closing anyway, so he simply told Paul he was leaving because he was ill. Taking his jacket off the coatrack, he left out the back door without saying goodbye to the packers. Head down, he walked as fast as he could to Mary’s boarding house. She’d be there waiting for him and he was dreading it, making the decision that if she crossed him, he was going back to Cate’s. But she was pleasant and happy, talking about her day, puttering around the kitchen fixing dinner and he was able to hide his distress. Still not willing to share his suspicions about Ellen’s paternity, he’d wait until their blood test results came back.

Relaxed with his elbows on the table, enjoying a glass of wine with Mary during dinner, he let his guard down for a moment forgetting whom he was talking to and it had an untoward effect on her. “I spoke with Ellen and Frank before closing. Ellen is very sweet. What a great guy Frank is. I’m glad Margaret ran into him.” If he’d been looking at Mary when he said it, he’d have stopped right away. But he has gazing out the window at her back yard, with the dwarf fruit tree and the ratty chain link fencing.

“Your yard could be nice if you put a little effort into fixing it up.” Those last fateful words are what caused him to shut up and regret speaking, though she was livid long before.

“What do you mean; you’re
glad Margaret ran into him
? Margaret who, Alan? Who are you speaking of?
My
Margaret?” She’d gotten up from the table and started to pace, stopping right in front of him with a look of such disdain that he reared back, frightened she was going to haul off and pop him.

“Yes,
your
Margaret. Take it easy.”

“Don’t tell me to take it easy, Alan. Why do you care about Margaret? Why the sudden interest in Ellen and Frank?” Lips trembling, Mary’s face was flushed, but she had a pale ring around her mouth that frightened Alan; it was obvious she was seething mad.

“I’m not
suddenly
interested,” he said, knowing he would regret it when and if the blood tests came back positive. “They just happened to stop by the store before closing is all.” He didn’t mention that the confrontation actually made him ill.

“You know the sheriff is gathering evidence against him. Did you realize that, Alan?
Evidence that he’s abusing Ellen
. I heard it today. Miss Logan blew the whistle on him when no else, me included had the courage.” The look of triumph on her face shocked Alan. “He’s a sleaze ball, Frank McPherson is. High and mighty Frank really nothing more than a low-life child molester.” Speechless, if it was true, and Ellen was his child, Frank was abusing
his
child. Without warning, he jumped on her, knocking her to the floor.

“What do you know, you whore! What are you saying? Who told you Frank was abusing Ellen, who?” Her shirt bunched up in his hands, spittle hitting her in the face, in the eye as he screamed.

Once Mary caught her breath from the attack, she started to scream. “Get off me!” Arching her back and struggling, he was too strong for her, as an insane person gain strength in anger, Alan could kill her with his bare hands and told her so.

“I’ll wring your neck if you don’t tell me what you know!”

“Sally Logan saw them kissing at the side of the road,” she yelled.

“You believe the lies that dried up old bitch is spreading all over? I thought you were smarter than that.” With strength she dredged up from some deep, attention-starved place, Mary Cook shoved him off her, but not before she slipped up, just to save her own skin.

“I saw it, too. I saw them standing in the living room out at the cottage on the river, kissing. It was disgusting, I tell you!
They’re
disgusting.” She was panting, kneeling on the hard wooden floor, hands on her knees, choking for air.

“Why didn’t you tell the sheriff what you saw?” he said, rocking back on his heels.

“I didn’t want him to know I was out there,” she said, gasping for breath. All Alan could think of was that his child might be in danger. It seemed so unlikely, because Frank and Ellen were so good together; you could just see their love and tenderness, nothing sexual or lurid at all. But he had to tell the sheriff this extra piece of news. If Mary did see what she said she saw, he had to act.

“You call me a whore? Ha!” she gasped. “She was kissing him back! She’s the whore. Ellen Fisher is the whore!” Without thinking, he lifted up his hand and smacked her as hard as he could across the face, the whump! echoing through the living room to the kitchen, knocking her over. She put her hand up to her face, and at first she was going to laugh, but then she realized that her suspicions about him were true. He’d just confirmed it for her.

“You’re her
father,
you filthy pig, you! Ha! I knew it, I suspected it.
Get out of my house!
” She screamed. Without wasting a second, he got up off the floor and walked into the bedroom off the kitchen to gather his belongings. He’d been living out of his suitcase so it wouldn’t take long. Sneaking up on him, when he turned, she was in the doorway, a grin on her face, hands behind her back.

“I fucked her, too.” Not knowing what she was getting at, did she mean she slept with Frank behind Margaret’s back, or did she steal money from her, not thinking what she meant was what it
really meant.
Then he got it, and he laughed.

“In your
dreams
, Mary. A woman like Margaret wouldn’t give someone like you the time of
day
,” he said, snickering. Mary flew at him screaming again, hitting him with both fists. Surprised, he grabbed her arms but she’d caught him off guard and he lost his balance, falling over on the bed. Tears running down her fact, Alan saw the frustration and anger of hidden yearning and unrequited love. “What! Were you in love with both of them? I figured Frank, but his wife, too? You’re a piece of work.”