Huckleberry Lake

by Catherine Anderson

  “I got married.” She tried to laugh, but the sound came out wobbly and faint. “Derek liked wine and expensive liqueurs, and he acted as if beers were an affront to his refined taste buds.”

  “Hmm. Sometimes there’s no accounting for people’s tastes, I guess. Some people love beer. Others detest it. But he must have been something of a prick to have forced his preferences on you.”

  Julie almost choked on the liquid chocolate and coffee flavor. “Yep, a real prick.”

  He laughed and reclined his chair another notch. “I’m settling in for this story. I’ve wanted to ask you about your marriage, but I always held back. I can tell by the way you behave that he did a real number on you. Speaking from experience, I know how awful a truly bad marriage can be, and it takes time before a person can talk about it. I didn’t want to push then, and I don’t now, if you still feel uncomfortable about sharing.”

  “I thought I loved him.” Her voice came out squeaky, so she swallowed hard before she went on. “I’d just finished college and gotten a job. Accounting and bookkeeping, so I sat at a desk all day. I immediately realized I needed a gym membership, and that was how I met Derek. He was one of those hunky, handsome trainers at the facility. He asked me out, I accepted, and I went a little crazy, I think. It was all so exciting and seemed so wonderful.”

  He smiled and took a sip of his blond ale. “Unfortunately, those wonderful feelings don’t last. Unless, of course, you find true love. I’m not saying it doesn’t exist. I’ve known people who found that with each other, but I think a large percentage of people stumble into what they believe is the real deal, only to wonder a year or so later what on earth they were thinking.”

  “Exactly,” Julie agreed. “Only it took me longer than that. In retrospect, I wonder if I wasn’t more enamored with the idea of love—the perfect marriage, a house with a picket fence in a rural area, two children, and a minivan. You know? But the truth was much more grim. Derek used me, as embarrassing as it is now for me to admit. I was an ornament in his life to conceal the truth about his sexual preferences. He never wanted his parents and siblings to know he’s gay. I should have realized all wasn’t right in our relationship, but it was my first go-around with marriage, and I thought maybe all husbands grew less amorous right off the bat. Derek did his husbandly duty once a week at first, then every two weeks, and I wasn’t really suspicious when he backed off to once a month. Disappointed, yes. I was trying to get pregnant, and he wasn’t giving me much opportunity. But he had flair when he made love to me that camouflaged his lack of desire. Once a month, he created a blissfully romantic setting, making a candlelight dinner, putting love songs on the stereo, telling me how wonderful I was. I really believed everything was good between us until I came home early one afternoon and caught him in bed with his true love, another male bodybuilder.”

  “Ah, Julie,” he said softly, his voice low and gravelly.

  “I’m okay now,” she hurried to say. “But at the time, I was shocked, incredulous, and devastated all at once.”

  Julie expected Blackie to offer the usual platitudes, something like, I’m so sorry that happened to you. Instead he kicked down his footrest to sit forward on his chair, his beer precariously balanced in one hand as he rested his bent arms on his knees. “The son of a bitch!” He gestured with his free hand. “If you still have feelings for the asshole, I apologize, but any man who’ll do that to a woman is a self-serving jackass. What he did was inexcusable, and you’re lucky that you walked in on them that day. Otherwise you might have remained in the marriage and there could have been kids in the picture when it finally imploded.”

  Julie felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. While it was true that she would never trust easily again, there was something so genuine about Blackie that it reassured her. “I’m glad of it now, for sure. When I was yearning for a baby, I wasn’t angling to be a single parent. Some people pull that off, but I worked long hours. I would have needed a full-time father on board to help me. Plus, how much worse would it have been to have had a child with him before I learned the truth?

  “I felt stupid enough as it was. My family was awesome and very supportive, but even though they never judged me, my sisters did ask how I could have been with him—well, you know, that way—without realizing the truth. And I had no answers for them.”

  Blackie remained on the edge of his chair. “None of us on the receiving end of marital treachery ever have a reasonable explanation. When we fall in love, we wear blinders, I think, and when something happens to open our eyes, we squeeze them closed again rather than face a truth we don’t want to accept.”

  She released a taut breath. “That’s exactly what I did. Like the fancy dinners and music? It occurred to me once that it was as if he set a stage and then played a role. But I immediately clamped a lid down on those thoughts, and even if I hadn’t, I would have believed he’d fallen for another woman, not some guy. That possibility never even entered my mind.”

  He took a slow sip of his drink. “What he did—hiding who he really was to keep up appearances to please his family—well, it tells me that he’s a self-serving person who thought only of himself and never once about what his deceit might do to you. But it isn’t only men who can be treacherous. I’m living proof of that.”

  Julie had only ever known Blackie as a happy bachelor. He’d mentioned once that he was divorced, but she’d never wondered overmuch about the particulars of his marriage. “What happened to you?”

  He sighed. “When I suggested that we should share war stories, I didn’t think of how ugly it would feel when it came to my turn. It’s something I’ve never talked much about except with a counselor, and only then because I needed to vent and put the ugliness behind me.”

  “If it’s too difficult, you don’t have to talk about it.”

  He sighed. “Not difficult, exactly. It’s more the unpleasantness of remembering and wondering where my head was at. Believe it or not, the day will come when you won’t think about your ex-husband anymore, and all the pain will be entirely gone. That’s where I am now. I’ve put it behind me.” He shrugged. “My wife played me, too. I wonder now if she even loved me on our wedding day. I was twenty-six, a young stockbroker when I married her. She was twenty and going for an associate’s degree. Wanted to become a legal secretary. She came from a broken family. Had an ornery, controlling stepfather who doled out money to her with conditions attached. Now, knowing how extravagant she could be with a credit card, I wonder if he was really all that bad. But she hated him, and I’ve wondered since then if I was only her ticket out. I made good money, even at that age.” He hunched his shoulders and then rotated them as if to work out kinks. “I think all of us wake up one morning in a marriage and realize the pizzazz is gone. That definitely happened with me, anyway. Our relationship wasn’t all that I’d hoped it would be, but I did care for her, so I settled. Looking back on it now, I can’t even say she went out of her way to deceive me into thinking she loved me. What she failed to do, I made up for with excuses, because once you draw back the draperies to examine reality, it’s too brutal and painful to face.”

  Julie nodded. “I get it. I did the same thing. He’d put on those big shows of love and devotion as if they were plays that were scheduled for one evening a month, and sometimes I wanted to scream that I didn’t need grandiose gestures. What I needed was for my husband to cuddle with me on the sofa to watch a film or to turn to me during the night just to hold me close or to talk to me about his day. Only he didn’t need those things from me. He’d already gotten them from someone else.”

  “It was basically the same for me. She got involved with a married man who was dragging his heels about getting a divorce. So she kept the home fires burning with me until she could make a smooth transition from one all-expenses-paid life to another. She redefined the word lazy, yet another fault of hers that I chose to overlook. The sofa was her thro
ne, and television and books were her entertainment. I’d come home to a messy house and clean it up myself rather than quarrel with her. I honestly never saw the divorce coming. I won’t say I was the most fabulous husband that ever walked, but I did my best. She had free rein with my earnings. Spent unthinkable amounts of money on clothing and salons to look like a million bucks. I was thirty-five when she dropped the bomb on me. And it wasn’t enough for her to simply leave. She had to tear me apart before she walked out.”

  “I’m so sorry she did that to you.” Julie realized she’d just spouted a canned line of sympathy and quickly added, “Any woman who uses a man like that is a complete witch.”

  He chuckled. “I’m over it now, but it took me a long time to get there. Through counseling, I learned that some people must feel justified when they destroy someone else, so they re-create reality and demonize the person they’re leaving. She told me that she’d never had such boring sex in her life. In fact, everything about me was boring, and my faults were many. She even complained about my habit of organizing my underwear drawer.” He slanted her a mischievous look. “It never occurred to me to tell her I might not have fallen into that habit if she’d ever once done the laundry and put it away.” He swung his hand. “It’s weird, because my underwear drawers are a mess now. I think I fell back on organization because living with someone so totally chaotic drove me nuts. She wanted no structure in her life. No planning ahead. She was like a five-year-old who wanted ice cream and cookies or takeout for dinner every night.”

  The notes of resignation and disgust in his voice made Julie laugh, and then she immediately hoped she hadn’t offended him. But he chuckled, too, and shook his head.

  “Trust me. It was bad.” He swirled his beer and took a big gulp as if to fortify himself. “But, oh, well, water under the bridge. We live, we learn, and then we move on. It took me nearly five years to take a dip into the dating pond again. That was after I moved here, and when I wandered off the straight and narrow, I went to Crystal Falls. I met a few women and had delightfully boring sex.”

  “That’s a long way to drive just to find companionship,” she observed.

  “Screwing around in Mystic Creek would be bad for business.”

  Julie got a sip of beer down the wrong pipe as an unexpected giggle erupted. Blackie held up his hand and grinned. “Laugh all you like, but a lothario in Mystic Creek gets boycotted by jealous husbands and faithful wives. I didn’t want to have that reputation. Besides, going to Crystal Falls gave me a change of scenery. I lived in Portland before coming here. Crystal Falls is a larger town with a better selection of night spots. If I had a couple of drinks, I spent the night in a motel and checked out the pawnshops and galleries before I drove back. I don’t go much anymore. It’s been about three years, I think.” He broke off and cleared his throat. Then he rolled the base of his tumbler between his palms. “One-night hookups served me well during that stage of my life, but at this point, I’m looking for something a little more meaningful.”

  Watching him, Julie wished she’d been more honest when he asked where they were headed. She’d made it sound as if she were looking for only friendship when she actually yearned for more than that. There was something inexplicably attractive to her about Blackie. He was sure of himself in a way that soothed her. There was no pretense with him. And he truly did seem to be content with his life as it was, which she found intriguing. He wasn’t needy. He made her feel safe, she supposed, and yet there was a masculine edge to him that also excited her. What she really wanted was to be a little crazy just once and go to bed with him. She had a feeling he would be anything but boring. But she needed to think this through and be sure before she confessed that to him.

  They sat in silence for a minute, and even the lack of conversation felt soothing. She felt no urge to fill up the quiet with words. With Blackie, she could just be.

  After retrieving her purse, she got up and walked into his kitchen to put her glass in the sink. The space was tidy and polished, but he had a rack of pots and pans above the gas cooking range and appliances on the counter that told her he didn’t always eat out. “I love your apartment,” she told him. “It suits you.”

  He pushed to his feet and strode toward the island. “I’ll have you up for dinner some night. I fix a pretty decent steak.”

  She met his gaze. “I’ll hold you to that offer, but first I want to serve you a meal at my place to thank you for holding on to my grandmother’s ring.” She patted her handbag. “I can scarcely believe I actually have it back. Most pawnbrokers would have sold it and banked the profit without a second thought.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m a sentimental old man, I guess. Work or business can’t be all about making money. At least not for me. I’d rather sleep well at night, and I can’t do that if I stop caring about the people who walk through my shop door.”

  Julie understood precisely what he meant. Every once in a while an older person on a fixed income would visit the Morning Grind and order only a cup of coffee. She liked to pretend she had a bargain hour, the time for which she changed as the situation dictated, and her cinnamon rolls or donuts were suddenly only a quarter apiece. It did her heart good to see an elderly woman or man order a treat to accompany a hot drink. And when she thought about her day as she fell asleep that night, she could smile because she’d brought a little joy into someone else’s life.

  “You’re a good man, Blackie.” She stepped around the counter and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to enjoy wearing my grandma’s ring now. On my right hand, of course, like a dinner ring.”

  He inclined his head. “It’ll look beautiful on you.”

  Chapter Six

  After leaving Blackie’s apartment, Julie went home and spent forty minutes watering all her deck and porch plants. Her automatic sprinkler system took care of her lawns and gardens. Having that chore programmed automatically allowed her to expend her energy on weeding, trimming, and mowing.

  When she finished her chores outdoors, she entered the house, wondering as she crossed the living room/dining room combo and entered the kitchen what Blackie would think of her decorating efforts. Her home definitely sported a more feminine touch, but she’d tried not to overdo it. Stepping over to the fridge, which looked pathetically small compared to Blackie’s, she grabbed another beer, poured it into a glass, and returned to the living area, where she kicked off her shoes and sprawled on a gray easy chair with her legs draped over one cushiony arm. After savoring only one sip of ale, which didn’t taste as good as the special brew Blackie had served her, she plucked her cell phone from her pocket and speed-dialed Erin, who was working the day shift this week and got off at three.

  “Erin’s Whorehouse,” her friend said when she answered. “How can I help you?”

  Julie burst out laughing. “Last time I called this number, I got Joe’s Bar and Grill.”

  “Yeah, well, Joe got really boring, so I’m changing it up. How did your day go? Since you didn’t bug me while I was on duty, I’m assuming that the ovens didn’t break down and the coffee machines behaved themselves.”

  “I had an uneventful day, and this afternoon was blessedly slow, so I got out of the salt mine right at the stroke of five. Then I finally did it.”

  “Oh, man. When you say that, I know I better brace myself. What, exactly, did you finally do?”

  “I walked over to Blackie’s Pawnshop.”

  “And did what? Please don’t tell me you had monkey sex behind a glass display case. Very tacky.”

  “No.” Julie smiled so big her face hurt. “I looked to see if, by some miracle, he still had Grandma’s engagement ring.”

  “Oh, wow! And I’m guessing, because you sound so happy, that he did. Watch out for that guy, Jules. He’s angling for something more than a cinnamon roll.”

  “Maybe so, because he kept it in his back room all this time and never
even tried to sell it. I—could—not—believe—it. But he had it, and the very best part is that it didn’t bankrupt me to buy it back.”

  “Uh-huh. What did he charge as a redemption fee?”

  “Nothing. I got it back for exactly what I sold it to him for.”

  “Oh, boy. This is serious stuff, Jules. He’s definitely buttering you up for something more than baked goods and fabulous coffee.”

  Julie waggled her feet and curled her toes. “I don’t think so. Not that he isn’t interested in more than my baked goods. He pretty much made that clear this afternoon.”

  She heard a rustling sound come over the air, and then Erin said, “Do tell. It sounds like your evening has been a lot more exciting than mine.”

  Julie filled her friend in on every nuance of her conversation with Blackie. “It was all I could do to walk out of there, because I lied when I told him I wasn’t in the market for a romantic relationship. I think maybe I am.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Erin jerked her cell phone away from her ear to stare at it. Were her ears deceiving her, or had Julie just said she was ready to get serious about a guy again? And with Blackie, of all people. He was so much older. But Erin guessed age wasn’t always a deciding factor in relationships. Sometimes, something clicked between two people and nothing else mattered all that much. Theoretically, she got that. It had just never happened for her.

  “So . . .” She let that word hang there for a moment. “What is it that you’re seeking in a relationship? I mean, I understand that physical satisfaction is pretty much a given after being single as long as you have, but is that all you’re interested in, or does it go deeper than that?”

  Julie sighed with frustration and blasted Erin’s eardrum with a whoosh of air. “I don’t know. Seriously, Erin, I’m not sure what I want at this point, which is why I collected my purse and got out of there. There’s just something about Blackie that draws me.”