The Handyman's Dream (36 page)

He pulled Ed to his feet. “Will you shout it with me, baby?”

Ed hugged him. “I’ll shout it till I’m hoarse, darlin’.”

* * * * *

The next week passed with painful slowness for Ed. He moved from job to job, day to day, mentally counting down the hours until he and Rick would be alone together.

Thursday afternoon, after a stop at the hardware store downtown, Ed drove east on Commerce Street, heading for home, when an impulse made him turn south three blocks early at Race Street. He hadn’t seen Mrs. Penfield for a while, and it occurred to him she might be pleased to hear about the upcoming weekend.

As Ed’s truck rolled into her driveway, he spied Mrs. Penfield in her backyard garden. He tooted the truck’s horn, and she looked up. Seeing who it was, she smiled and waved.

“Mrs. Penfield, one; arthritis, zero,” Ed exclaimed as he joined her. “You must be feeling pretty good today.”

Mrs. Penfield smiled victoriously. “I do indeed. It seemed a wonderful day to check the progress of my spring flowers and start making plans for annuals. Oh, it’s way too soon to plant, but even thinking about the colors we’ll see out here soon makes my old joints feel younger.”

She led him to a bench inside the small rose arbor. “Effie Maude just cleaned and moved this into the garden today. We must sit down and officially christen it for the season. Tell me, Ed. How’s Rick? It’s been much too long since we’ve had a visit. Could I talk you into bringing him over this weekend?”

Ed chuckled, sitting next to her. “Not this weekend, I’m afraid. Actually, that’s what I stopped to tell you about. We’re going away for the weekend. Gordy Smith is letting us use his dad’s fishing cabin on a lake up in Michigan. We’re leaving tomorrow night. I’m so excited. We’ve never really been away together, unless you count a trip to Indy to see his parents.”

Mrs. Penfield beamed at him. “Good for you. I’m glad to see things are going so well. I worried a bit, this past winter.”

“Me too. You know what, though? I really believe everything you said to us. I really believe that incident with Murk the Jerk made us stronger, made us love each other more.”

“I’m glad to see my faith in you two wasn’t misplaced,” she said with a wry smile. “I was confident you’d see past the unpleasantness with Jim, and with Porterfield’s potential disapproval in general. This town doesn’t know it, but it needs you and Rick much more than you need it.”

Ed looked at her in gratitude. “I keep wondering if there is some way we can thank you for your support and everything you’ve told us. Just knowing you’re behind us helps a lot.” Ed frowned suddenly. “Thing is, why are you behind us? I mean, you’ve always been the most tolerant person I’ve ever known, but aren’t you, well, a little shocked by the idea of me and Rick?”

Mrs. Penfield looked thoughtful. “Oh, perhaps at first. I think, though, that any surprise I had in discovering the object of your affection was a man was lost in my happiness for you.”

She put a hand, cruelly ravaged by the arthritis, gently on Ed’s arm. “I’ve never made a secret of my fondness for you, Ed. In many ways you remind me of George Junior. If it were he in your place, I’d like to think I would be just as accepting.”

She giggled, surprising Ed. “Plus, I am what they call a sucker for the sight of a young man in love. Seeing you and Rick together, so obviously in love, is simply double the pleasure.”

Ed put his hand on hers. “You’re the best, Mrs. Penfield. As much as I love my own parents, I’d be honored to have you for a mother.”

“Thank you, Ed. That means a great deal to me.” With some effort, she squeezed his hand. “Now, I must admit I’m curious about your future. Do you and Rick plan to continue as you are indefinitely? I would assume that conventional mating rituals do not apply to young men such as yourselves. How do you signify a deeper commitment to one another?”

Ed shrugged. “Well, you’re right, we can’t get married. I think the next step is to live together. Remember back in the sixties when the hippies made fun of marriage, calling it just a piece of paper? Well, I’m glad of that, really. I don’t need a piece of paper, or a minister’s blessing, to be married to Rick. When we’re living together, I’ll feel just as married as Laurie does to Todd.”

“I see. Ed, can you make me a promise? When the two of you are ready to take this step, will you pay me a visit?”

Ed looked at her, puzzled. “Why, sure. We probably would anyway. Any special reason?”

She smiled. “Oh, maybe, maybe not. First and foremost, I will want to be among the first to extend my congratulations. I may also,” she added mysteriously, “have some sort of a wedding present for you as well.”

“You’ve given us enough already,” Ed protested.

She patted his arm. “Well, then consider it a gift on your part to indulge the romantic notions of an old woman. Do you think this ‘living together’ step might be any time in the near future?”

Ed sighed. “I sure hope so. I’m ready, and I think Rick is, too. I think his concern about leaving the kids is the only thing holding us back. We’re going to talk about it this weekend. We’d decided, weeks ago—after we talked to you, as a matter of fact—that we’d make some decisions come springtime.”

“Ah, springtime,” she said wistfully. “George and I were married in the spring. He proposed in late summer and wanted to get married as soon as possible, but I had my heart set on an early May wedding, when the lilacs are in bloom. Of course this was during the Depression, and we certainly didn’t have the money for a lavish celebration of any kind, but I knew I wanted to become his wife at the time of year when the air is filled with so much promise.” She smiled, rather sadly, Ed thought, assuming she was thinking of her late husband. “I hope this happens in this season for you and Rick as well.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Ed smiled back at her.

“Good. I expect to hear good news when you return from your weekend away.”

* * * * *

Late Friday afternoon found Ed preparing for the weekend at the cabin. He gathered up bedding and warm clothes, while Three Dog Night’s “Out in the Country” played over and over again on the stereo. Jett followed him around the house, full of suspicion.

“I’m sorry, cat, but you’re on your own this weekend. Mom’s coming over to feed you, and that’ll probably be more company than you want.”

Rick arrived, and soon the car was loaded and ready to go. After a fast-food stop on the edge of town, they headed toward the interstate. Although the weather was cool once again and the skies threatened rain, the two men were in high spirits. They sang along with their new favorite radio song, “Morning Train.”

“You know, baby,” Rick said, slowing down for a semi ahead of them, “it’s a good thing neither of us can sing worth a damn, or one of us might get offended by the noise.”

Ed laughed. “You got that right. But you know, I wish one of us had a portable cassette player. It would have been great to have all those tapes you made from my records. ‘Morning Train’ and the other stuff on the radio is great, but it’s just not right for this weekend. I could do with some of those mushy love songs we listen to at home, and ‘One Man Band.’ Just think: two whole days, all to ourselves.”

“Well, I could sing to you, baby, but I might scare off all the deer.”

They bantered lightheartedly as they rolled north on I-69, Rick ignoring the 55 mph speed limit. After they crossed the Michigan border, Ed consulted Gordy’s directions, and eventually they were on a narrow, two-lane county road, looking for Spruce Lake. A few left and right turns later, they pulled into the rutted drive next to the cabin, almost invisible in the pitch-black night. As Gordy had promised, the place was deserted.

“Wow,” Rick exclaimed, peering into the gloom. “I’d hate to have to call for help out here. You’d be long dead before anyone found you. Good thing Gordy, at least, knows where we are.”

Leaving the car lights on to guide them, they carried supplies to the door. Ed unlocked it with Gordy’s key, then fumbled for a light switch. The lights came on, and the two of them looked around, shock and surprise on their faces.

“Not exactly something you’d see on a travel brochure, is it?” Rick remarked.

Ed took in the cheaply paneled room, sparsely furnished with a lumpy sofa, a La-Z-Boy that had definitely seen better days, a castoff coffee table, and a few kitchen chairs. A threadbare Oriental rug covered the plank floor in front of the promised fireplace. The fireplace—a huge, almost ornate stone affair—managed to make the rest of the room look even shabbier.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting an Aspen ski lodge,” Ed said, gingerly stepping inside, “but I have to admit I was picturing something a little more romantic than this. Oh, well, what do you expect from a bunch of straight guys who come up here to fish?”

Rick carried their provisions to the kitchen. “A few empties?” he inquired, pointing to the litter of beer cans and bottles scattered near the sink. “Hell, it looks like Laverne and Shirley’s brewery blew up.”

“As long as Lenny and Squiggy aren’t around, I can deal with it.” Ed righted a fishing pole he’d knocked over.

“At least the water runs,” Rick commented, trying the sink tap. “And it looks like someone left the gas on, so we can cook. Probably so wasted on Bud they forgot to turn it off.”

They inspected the rest of the cabin, stopping at the tiny bathroom.

“I don’t know, baby,” Rick said, gazing at the toilet that hadn’t been cleaned in some time. “I may pee in the woods after all.”

The bedroom was a nice surprise, well-paneled and cozy, with two double beds, a nightstand, and a lamp. The bare mattresses were in surprisingly good condition.

“How much you wanna bet it was Mrs. Smith who furnished this room?” Ed said, bouncing on one of the beds.

“Yeah, did this one and gave up,” Rick said, looking out the window. “What do you know, there is a lake out there. I can see a path leading down to the water. Wanna go check it out?”

“Let’s go check out that fireplace first.” Ed was shivering a bit. “It’s cold in here.”

They walked back to the living room. Ed stuck his head up the chimney to locate the damper. Rick opened the big wood box, located off to the left side.

“Full wood box, my ass,” he roared. “Look at that. Nothing more than some kindling. Hell, I’m not gonna go looking for wood in the dark. I guess it’s the kerosene heater for us tonight.”

Ed sat down on the hearth, head cocked. “Do you hear that?”

Rick looked up. Sure enough, rain had begun to patter on the roof. They both began to chuckle.

“Baby,” Rick said, sitting down next to Ed. “I think your roaring fire just got drowned out for the weekend.”

* * * * *

Later that night they lay huddled together in one of the double beds. The lamplight provided a nice glow to the room, and despite the cold, Ed felt quite comfortable.

“So, how’s your romantic weekend so far?” Rick teased.

Ed pulled Rick closer, grateful for his body heat. “Darlin’, the only thing I need for a romantic weekend is you. The setting doesn’t matter at all.”

“It’s a good thing,” Rick cracked. “’Cause I can think of more romantic bus stations than this.”

“Oh, cool it.” Ed gave him a playful knock against his head. “Just think of how nice it was for Gordy to do this for us. You know he’s lonely, and for him to think of us was really nice.”

“Probably his way of getting even with us.”

“Will you quit, already? Besides, are you forgetting that for the first time ever we are really alone? No phones, no neighbors, no work, no kids. We can love on each other all we want, and not be looking over our shoulders for a change. I think that’s pretty incredible.”

Rick smiled, rubbing against Ed. “You’re right. I’m just having some fun at Gordy’s expense. It was nice of him, and you’re right about another thing: All I need to make this a wonderful weekend is you.”

“Keep rubbing on me like that, and you’re gonna get plenty of me.”

“I’m merely keeping warm, baby.”

“Yeah? Well, you know what happens when you rub two sticks together long enough. You get a spark.”

“Listen to the boy scout,” Rick said softly, rubbing harder. “You want ignition, baby, you got it.”

* * * * *

Saturday morning dawned wet and gloomy. The rain had stopped, but the trees outside the cabin were weeping water, and the ground was cold and muddy. Ed was glad they had brought books and a deck of cards. It didn’t look too promising for exploring.

Rick, either finished ragging on Gordy and the cabin or keeping his thoughts to himself, cheerfully made them a big breakfast. Ed swept the beer empties into a garbage bag they’d brought for their own trash, then set the splintery table with mismatched plates and cutlery.

“You know,” Ed remarked, “I always wondered what people did with their old plates and beat-up kitchen stuff. They stock lake cabins with them.”

“Or peddle them at garage sales.” Rick flipped bacon onto Ed’s plate. “I gotta admit, though, this stove is great, and that fridge looks almost brand-new. Oh, well. That’s probably just to keep the beer cold.”

“Listen to that quiet, though. I’m not even missing the stereo right now. I never realized how much noise there is until now.” Ed paused for a moment, listening. “Here that? You can hear the trees dripping. If we were at home, I’d have records going, Jett would be hollering for his breakfast, and we’d both be waiting for the phone to ring with either an emergency for me or a Claire-and-the-kids crisis for you.”