Another Stab at Life

by Anita Higman

  I cracked open the box and saw a large diamond with a spray of smaller diamonds dancing all around the big one. The whole spectacular ring sat nestled in rich black velvet. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Max knelt down in front of me and gathered my hands in his. “I know this may seem old-fashioned, but it’s the way our family has always done it.” He took a deep breath. “So here goes.” He gave me an earnest look. “I love you, Bailey. I promise to cherish you always. Would you do me the honor of becoming my one and only. . .my wife?”

  14 – No Swift Escape

  “What you said. . .is so beautiful, Max.” I looked away from all the love filling his sweet brown eyes. I hadn’t felt this way in so long. I’d tried hard to forget my past. The intensity. The promise. The bright future and how it could look. And how the sting could feel when it all disappeared. “But, don’t you think it’s a little too soon? I’m not totally sure of the way I feel yet.” “It’s probably happened more quickly for some couples and more slowly for others. I can only speak for myself,” Max said smiling.

  The sticky ninety-nine degrees suddenly became even more oppressive. I felt like I’d been dipped in a vat of honey and set out to gather flies. I wanted to escape from the heat and from these feelings. “But I’m not sure I can be a good homemaker. I mean, I don’t even know how to thump melons.”

  Max rose, laughing. “I don’t care. I don’t need to marry a melon thumper. I need to marry the woman I love.”

  I turned away from him so he couldn’t see my face. “But we haven’t even talked about the child thing yet. Surely you don’t want a passel of kids. They’re so messy and loud.”

  “Yes, they are.” Max grinned. “And I suppose you were always quiet and neat as a kid?”

  “Yes. I was.”

  Max turned me back around to face him. “I’ll bet you were, Miss Bailey Marie Walker.”

  “How do you know my middle name, anyway?” “Your granny.” Max fingered the delicate material of my blouse.

  “She told you?”

  “Of course. She told me a great deal about you.”

  I was surprised enough to frown. “And what do you think she’d say about you wanting to marry me? I mean, the contract she set up with you didn’t include any of those kinds of vows.”

  “She would absolutely approve,” Max said. “How do you know for sure?”

  “Well, I think I’d best tell you something.” He stuffed his fists into his pockets like a little boy. “You see, your grandmother set up all this ‘watching over you thing’ just as I told you earlier. But all the time. . .she’d really hoped we’d fall in love. I warned her things don’t always work out like—”

  “You mean all this between us was planned? All the time when you were telling me you wanted to be my brother, you really had other designs?”

  “Not exactly. I personally didn’t think it—”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” I felt my head. I surely had a big one coming on. I looked Max in the eyes. “You know, I have to tell you I’m getting a little overwhelmed here. I thought we were heading out to have a quiet getting-to-know-you-better lunch, and I find myself heading down the aisle!” I backed away from Max. “Please. Just take me home.” I folded my arms, feeling deceived and a little scared. “And when we leave early, surely your relatives will know we’re not engaged.”

  “No. They will assume we’ve just had a little love spat.”

  I handed the ring back to Max and tromped back to the house. Was all this objection on my part just a smokescreen to hide from my past and my quirky views on privacy? Or were other fears about Max raising their ugly heads again? Why did I feel so manipulated? Then I wondered if Granny had been taken in by his charms too.

  “I know you love me, Bailey,” Max said loudly. “You just have to admit it to yourself. In the meantime, I’ll be waiting.”

  I grunted. Once I’d stomped up the hill, three yapping dachshunds trotted up to me. They made playful growling noises as they gnawed on my sandals and generally tried to slow me down. Why did they make me think of my three blind dates? Bailey, you’re in a vile mood, but don’t get cruel. I jiggled my feet, trying to shake off the little wiener dogs. From behind me, I could hear Max chuckling. Just as I extracted myself from the nipping, chewing dogs, a miscellaneous child wearing a suspicious color of lemon chiffon ran out from the bushes and clamped her chubby arms around my legs. She smelled like a mixture of bubblegum and wet dog.

  “Aunt Bailey,” the child whimpered. “Will you play ball with me? Please? Please? Please?” Her little blue eyes looked beseeching as her blond curls bounced up and down.

  I didn’t know what to say. But I knew I was in no mood to play any kind of game. There’d been enough games played behind my back as it was. “Well, I don’t think so, hun. I’m on my way back home.”

  “But you just got here, Aunt Bailey.” She finally let go of my legs as three more children whooshed by chasing a calico cat.

  “I’m sorry.” I wanted to say I didn’t belong here, but I hated to see her sunny smile disappear.

  “Aunt Bailey? Know what?” She smacked her gum.

  Apparently the little gal wasn’t deterred in the least with my refusal. “Why do you call me Aunt Bailey?”

  “I heard the cousins say you were Aunt Bailey. You’re the lady married to Uncle Maxy.”

  “No. Maxy, I mean, Max, isn’t my husband. We’re just friends. Sort of.”

  “Then why were you kissing Uncle Maxy that way? I saw you. You were real close and your mouths were touching, and I—”

  “You know what, hun? Maybe when you see people kissing, it’s a private thing. You—.”

  “My mom and dad kiss the same way, and they’re married. I won’t tell anybody you kissed like they do. I’m not a tattletale like Aunt Dolly. I won’t tell anybody except maybe Memaw. If you get married soon, then it’ll be okay. ’Cause now you’ll have a baby. Do you like babies, Aunt Bailey? We have lots and lots of them around here.”

  I had no idea now what to say. I was back in my stunned facial phase. “Uh. Well, I guess I’d better go, sweetie.”

  “Know what, Aunt Bailey?”

  “What?” I hope I wasn’t being too sharp. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

  “Okay.” I realized now there would be no swift escape for me. This could go on for a very long time. Did I hear thunder again? Maybe it would start pouring about now.

  “I caught a garden snake in the greenhouse and put him in a jar,” the girl squealed. “Do you want to see it?” Her plump fingers came together in a clap.

  “No. Not right now.” I tried to imagine this little girl playing with a snake in all those frothing yellow ruffles. It might actually terrify the poor snake.

  “Are you ’fraid of snakes?” the girl asked.

  “Only if they’re poisonous. And you really have to watch out for those kind.”

  “I will. I promise. Would you like to name my pet?” “No. I’ll let you do it,” I said.

  “Then I’m going to name her Aunt Bailey ’cause she’s such a nice snake and doesn’t bite.”

  “I’m glad, sweetie. I think I need to go now. Okay? It was good to meet you.”

  “But you didn’t really meet me. You don’t know my name.”

  “I think you’re Annabel. Right?” “How did you know?” she asked.

  “We saw you from the bushes, and Max mentioned your name.”

  “Oh, yeah. I was watching.” She held out her hand like an adult. “I am Annabel, and it is so very good to meet you.”

  I shook her small, warm hand. Then Annabel wiggled and spun around, letting her ruffled undergarments show. I wasn’t sure what her little dance was for, but it made her laugh. Maybe kids did it to discharge surplus energy.

  “When will you come back? I want you to come back.” Annabel chattered as she picked her nose.

  “I don’t know.” I guess her mother hadn’t been 100 percent successful in coaching her in the rules of
etiquette.

  “We’re going to have another party in two weeks. It’s Papaw’s birthday,” Annabel said. “You can’t miss it, ’cause we’re going to have a magic man come and somebody who makes funny balloon animals. I could have him make a snake. A balloon snake would be easy to make, wouldn’t it, Aunt Bailey?” The girl shook all over with giggles.

  “Yes, you’re right. But, no, I don’t think I’ll be here for the party. I’m sorry.” I hadn’t talked to children in so long, I’d forgotten how exhausting it could be. I felt as if someone had beaten me with a mallet.

  “Too bad you’re not coming to the party. ’Cause I like you, Aunt Bailey.” Then the little gal in the lemon chiffon hugged my legs again. My eyes filled with mist, but I blinked hard enough to stop the flow. This was no time to go all mushy.

  I glanced back down the path. Max sat on the grass watching the whole thing as if it were a stage play. He’d apparently heard and seen it all. I hugged the girl and said my good-byes. As I walked away, she said, “I know you’ll come back.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “’Cause you are Uncle Maxy’s one and only,” Annabel said.

  What a heart tug. But could Max have paid her to say all this? I waved good-bye to Annabel and then headed toward the house with a purposeful stride. As I passed the plucking harpist playing some sentimental tune, the lawn seemed to come alive with children of every age. I wondered if the air or water was teeming with something. I found myself holding my breath.

  Everything all around looked so lush and verdant. The flowers burst with ripe color, the abundant trees seemed, well, abundant. What a fertile house.

  A headache had arrived. Full force. Oh, dear God, how could You have ever led me here? Maybe I got my wires crossed and didn’t hear You right. Maybe I should have sold Granny’s house and stayed in Oklahoma. Show me the way, God, because I think I took a wrong turn somewhere.

  Just then Max came up behind me and touched my back. He once again steered me through the crowds with all the right words. Two people did make a comment about a love spat, but Max just laughed them off. I had long since given up on correcting them, so I just let him do the leading as I did the following.

  I realized once we were in the car that he hadn’t introduced me to his parents or grandfather. I guess I’d made it clear it didn’t matter. But still, I wondered what they were like. If Max looked like his mom or his dad. Would they have liked me? What am I thinking? I have just what I’d asked for—a drive back to the house.

  Home, even my old house, would feel good. So quiet and peaceful after such a fiasco. But silence came early, because it ruled while I rode home in Max’s SUV. When he dropped me off, I saw discontent in his eyes, and it made me grieve to think I’d been the one to put it there. He made no effort to kiss me and no effort to continue to convince me to marry him.

  “I’ll see you later,” Max finally said.

  I stayed on the porch and watched him go. The moment had a forlorn and final feel to it as he walked away. A feel I didn’t like one bit. The hurt had already started.

  Woody G. and the crew waved down at me. The house was really shaping up and starting to look like home, at least on the outside. So I faked a smile and fumbled inside to the seclusion I apparently craved above all else. I sat in my kitchen on one of my hard metal chairs and wanted to cry but didn’t. The hush of the house sounded like a tomb, not my peaceful oasis. Now the gift of being alone felt more like a prison term than privacy. Max had ruined me. I’d never enjoy my sweet solitude again.

  What am I doing? Really? Do I care about this man who stormed into my corner of the world because of Granny? Am I chucking one of the most important things in my life just because I can’t cope with giving myself away? Trusting again? Or perhaps I still hadn’t let go of something else—something more disturbing. But I no longer wanted my mind to play in that park of sinister ideas concerning Max. A churchgoing man who had such a sweet Memaw could not have a criminal mind.

  But what about his whole family, which was the size of a nomadic tribe? There’d be fertility demands. What if I were sterile? Couldn’t produce offspring? Barren has got to be an obscene word in his family. I would be an utter outcast. Would it then force Max to look elsewhere? It seemed like a reasonable question.

  Or what if I were ultrafertile and just didn’t know it yet—a mother-in-waiting with an incubator capable of a whole litter of snotty-nosed infants? Did I want a pack of kids spreading germs, noise, and bodily fluids all over my house? But it would cease to be my house. It would be our house. What a foreign concept. But I had always known there was the chance of marriage. I just hadn’t expected to wed a small country and produce one as well.

  And what about the living arrangements? Whose house would we live in? Would I have to give up my home after all this work? I remember Max mentioning a female family gossip named Dolly. Would she run our lives? Would our house be the new Grand Central? And what about all the nosiness from the sisters and other family members? Everyone would know my business. My thoughts. My inner life. My outer life. My comings and goings. It would send me to distraction. Maybe I should say good-bye now. End it before the real pain begins. But how do you say good-bye to a guy who lives only yards from your front door?

  I slapped my forehead in utter frustration. And I hadn’t even pondered the concept of manipulation. Is that what Granny and Max were up to? Or was it all much more innocent. A genuine concern for me?

  Yet again, too many questions. Never enough answers. The story of my life. I rubbed my neck and felt like doing something crazy. Like eating an entire carton of Muddy Fudge ice cream. Or buying some outrageously gaudy costume jewelry. Or watching movies until I got serious eyestrain. Except I no longer owned a TV or DVD player, since I sold off my belongings before coming to Houston. Or maybe I could put a For Sale sign in the front yard. It would solve a lot of my problems. But I hated just to run away. I’d always think of myself as a coward.

  I glanced at my watch. Oh no. Guess those reflections would have to be placed on hold. Apparently, according to the time, I soon had a blind date with a guy named Rupert. Why had I said yes? Why was Dedra so anxious for me to date? Did I look desperate? And if Rupert was so wealthy and wonderful, why wasn’t he already married by now? Something smelled like rotten mackerel.

  Or maybe Rupert was simply a guy who never found his one and only. Did Max really call me that? My heart warmed, and I felt I was betraying him by continuing to go on these blind dates. But I’d made a promise, so I wasn’t going to cancel. Oh well, they’d be over soon.

  After a speedy shower, I slid on a plain tan skirt and a white knit top. The doorbell sounded. Please, God, let this go well. Or at least let us not be miserable. The latter prayer seemed more realistic.

  I opened the door to Blind Date Number Two. “Hi.

  You must be Rupert.” He stood before me without the slightest Greek angle but instead had more the rounded look of a face that had been thrown into a rock tumbler. Tufts of black hair jutted up on his head as if he were receiving UFO signals. Guess the wind was picking up outside. Other than those imperfections, Rupert had adorable dimples when he smiled, making him endearing and cute. Maybe I could put him on a leash. Bailey, stop trying to sabotage this date before it begins. I think I’m forming a pattern here, and all the lines lead to Max. I can see the way more clearly every day and with every date. Max, I miss you.

  “Yes. I’m Rupert Rutledge. And I presume you are

  Bailey Walker, whom I’ve heard so much about.”

  15 – Dissecting Air

  In the end, I was grateful Rupert didn’t ask me out again. Maybe we both sensed we would be better off just living our lives apart—far apart preferably. All in all, though, Dedra had been right. He was a good Christian man. He just wasn’t the good Christian man meant for me. Funny how one can mix in all the right ingredients and still not make an edible cake. Good- bye, Rupert. I wish you well. And I thank you. Knowing you has help
ed me to see a few things more clearly.

  The next morning my alarm went off, and I think I made a snorting sound as I woke up. Hard to tell. I gave the noisy machine a slam-dunk into the trash basket. I knew I’d have to dig the silly thing out later, but it was gratifying to give it the old slap and toss. I turned my mental motor off again and coasted back down the hill to nocturnal bliss.

  When the sun became too bright to ignore, I threw back my covers in an act of resignation and jammed my tootsies into my powder blue scuffies. I wiggled my toes in the softness. Shoes like clouds. I’d be all right now, especially since the two-way radio on my bed table had never made another sound. There’d been no more break-ins or scary incidents. No more hazy figures running across my lawn. No more analyzing bits of vague suspicions like I was dissecting air. Except for missing Max, life was good again.

  I stretch. I yawned. I breathed in the stale air. And then I remembered. Another blind date. Oh, well, at least the torture would be over soon. Who was the guy? Oh yeah. Lee somebody. Another friend of Dedra’s from church.

  Church! Oh, no. I looked at my watch on the table. The last service had already started. I sighed. God, forgive me. Next Sunday I’ll be back in sync.

  I slipped on my chenille robe and stared out the window, relieved there were no workmen hammering on my house on Sunday.

  I surveyed the neighborhood, noticing the curious combo of trees. Would I ever get used to seeing pines, oaks, and palm trees together? Somewhere a mourning dove cooed. I loved that sound. Melancholy but soothing.

  And then I saw the same elderly couple I’d seen before—my other next-door neighbors. The woman actually wore a headscarf in this heat! She appeared to be arguing with her husband. They looked none too happy with life or each other. Suddenly, they pointed toward my house. For some reason, I stepped away out of their sight. Not sure why I would do that. Gut reaction. What were their names again? Oh, yeah. Boris and Eva Lukin. Max had called them cantankerous. I wonder what their story is. Should I run down to meet them? They looked too angry for a neighborly chitchat. The couple lumbered off and disappeared behind a row of oleanders. Were they hiding again? Who knew?