I'll Call Every Monday

by Orrie Hitt

  “Look,” I said. “You love me, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes, Nicky!”

  “We want to be happy?”

  “We are.”

  “Then let’s keep it that way.” I walked to the night stand and got my cigarettes. I sat down on the edge of the bed and lit one. “I’ve thought about it, Irene. I’ve thought about it a lot. I had it all in my mind, what I was going to tell him — the kind of a louse he is, and how I love you, and what we’re set on doing. It isn’t any good.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Me telling him.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know how it would turn out. I think I’m normal. I hope I am. But when I got to talking to him I’d start thinking about those pictures and what he had done to you — what he’d done to Sally — and I know what would happen. He’s sick and he’s going to die, anyway. I’m young but I might go along with him.” I stood up, my voice sharp. “I might kill him, Irene! Jesus Christ! Have you thought of that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, I have. Plenty. And I don’t want to risk talking to him. Do you understand that? I’ll never ask you to do another thing you don’t want to do, but you’ve got to do that, Irene. It’s the only safe way it can be done.”

  “All right,” she said, after a moment. “I’ll do it, Nicky.”

  She came over to where I was on the bed. She pulled my head up against her round breasts and held me that way. I could hear her crying softly.

  “You mustn’t ever scare me that way again, Nicky. I thought you were going to say something else. I couldn’t have stood that.”

  “I love you, Irene.”

  “That’s all I have to hear,” she said, rubbing her chin into my hair. “You’re all I want.”

  I brought her down beside me and kissed her hard. “You’ll do it?”

  “Yes, Nicky.”

  “And after that you can go somewhere and get a divorce.”

  “Whatever you say, darling.”

  “We can’t get married until you do.”

  “No.”

  “What about Reno?”

  “That would be expensive,” she said.

  “I guess we could afford it.”

  She leaned back on the pillow and placed her hands under her head. The dress tightened and swelled.

  “I’ve never asked you this before, Nicky,” she said. “Do you do good in the insurance selling?”

  “About a hundred a week,” I told her. “And my renewals are building up.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”

  “I will.” I lay down beside her, feeling great, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve got a few thousand saved. I was going to put all of that in the lake, but I can get along with less. You can go to Reno or any other place you want.”

  “You’re sweet, Nicky.”

  “So are you.”

  I kissed her again and she lay still in my arms.

  “We ought to go out to the lake,” I said. “Mrs. Walters is expecting us. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  I helped Irene with the bacon and eggs and it wasn’t long before we had breakfast. We piled the dishes in the sink, ran some water on them, and left them that way.

  Outside the sun was crawling through the overcast, burning bright and red. By the time we reached the lake the sky was blue and clear. Bess Walters’ car was parked by the side of the road. A lot of smoke poured up from the top of the bluff.

  “She must be burning brush,” I said.

  We went up there and found her throwing the last of the sweetfern bushes on a crackling fire. She had built the fire in a slight hollow, shielded from the wind. She had on the customary dungarees, rolled up to the knees, and a red, short-sleeved shirt. There were black smudges on her face and her hands looked like she had been playing house in a cinder pile.

  “Hi!” she said.

  I introduced her to Irene.

  “Mr. Weaver tells me that you’re interested in the property, Mrs. Schofield?”

  “Yes, I am,” Irene said. “We’re going to be married.”

  Bess Walters’ smile disappeared and she glanced at me hurriedly.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that,” she said. “Nicky didn’t tell me.” I laughed.

  “We just made it definite,” I said.

  “Oh, I see.” Bess poked at the fire with a long pole, shoving the burned-off ends of the sticks into the center. The smile crept back onto her face, and she said, “Well, that’s fine. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I looked around. “Where are the kids?”

  “My mother took them to New York for the day. It’s a trifle expensive but they love it, and she seldom goes any place. I’m afraid they won’t have very good weather.”

  We talked about the showers of the night before, how hot the sun was now and things like that. We kept moving around the fire, trying to get away from the smoke. We didn’t have much luck.

  “It always follows you,” Bess explained, as Irene started to cough. “Why don’t we go down by the lake?”

  “Anything to get away from this,” Irene agreed. “That stuff stinks!”

  Bess Walters smiled and tossed the pole into the fire.

  “Sweetfern is strong when it’s burning,” she said. “I guess the fire will be all right. We can watch it from down there. I’ll shovel some dirt over it before I go home.”

  The lake was clear and blue. A large pickerel shot out from the shore as we came up on a ledge of rocks, our shadows cutting across the water. We sat down and let the gentle breeze play around us.

  “How did you make out with the sawmill fellow?” I asked Bess. “Pretty good. He said he’d give us half of everything he cut, free.”

  “That’s finished lumber?”

  “Certainly. Everything is to be planed on both sides and the edges.”

  I recalled the price of lumber in town and the figure which the man at the bank had quoted me for stuff on the stump.

  “That sounds fair,” I said. “By the time we got ready to build it would be dried out.”

  Irene appeared doubtful.

  “You’re not going to cut all these beautiful trees?” she asked.

  “Not all,” I said. “Just some. Back from the lake, where you can’t see them. Enough to get us the materials to build with without cost.”

  “That sounds like it’s going to be a long time before you start,” Irene said.

  “At least a year,” Bess told her. “There’s a lot of grading to be done, plans to make and foundations to start. Besides, we don’t have the kind of capital that would permit us to jump right into it. So far, Nicky and I have just talked about it. We haven’t drawn up any papers, or things like that. We’re still in the dreaming stage.”

  “Supposing you had the money?” Irene wanted to know, glancing at me. “Wouldn’t that make it easier? I mean, wouldn’t it make all of this much more possible?”

  “Well, of course,” Bess agreed. “But there would be a limit to the amount which a partner could put into this with me. You see, my funds are not large. I have enough to go into this in a modest way and build it gradually. A venture of this kind requires either a lot of money or a lot of hard work. I don’t have a lot of money. If a partner of mine invested considerable money in this property it would mean that my interest would be lessened — because I couldn’t possibly match it.”

  “I can understand that,” Irene said.

  “I asked Mr. Weaver — Nicky — to come in with me for only one reason. He had been good to my husband, a friend to Dell when there was no one else. I think there is something here, and many other people feel the same way. I wanted Mr. Weaver to share it with me — if he would.”

  Until that moment I hadn’t fully understood her motive. And as it came to me, the knowledge of why she had done as she had, I could feel the fineness of it warm me. There was no doubt about it. Bess Walters was a straight, honest woman.

  “Well,” I said, “
I can match you dollar for dollar, Bess. I can do that, I think, without borrowing anything.”

  “You saw them at the bank?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did they say?”

  “Just what we have been saying. That this is a fine place.”

  “I don’t want any of their money right now,” Bess said, “but it’s good to know how they feel in case I ever do.”

  “That’s the way I look at it.”

  After that we talked some about how big the first building should be, what it ought to look like, and things of that nature. Bess said she was getting an estimate on a well, which should be our first consideration. We all agreed on that, although it was difficult for Irene to understand why we had to dig for water when there was so much of it in the lake.

  “I’ll give you a good reason why we can’t drink that water,” Bess said, smiling as she stood up. “Look at me. I’m going down there and wash all this dirt off.”

  “I get the idea,” Irene said.

  “Will you two join me in a swim?”

  “No,” I said. “Irene doesn’t have her suit along.”

  If Bess hadn’t been there that wouldn’t have stopped us.

  “I’ll run down to the car and get changed,” she said. She started off, her brown legs flashing. “I’ll see you before you go.”

  “Her husband is the one who killed himself?”

  “Yeah,” I said, watching Bess run lightly down the slope. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  We followed slowly and by the time we reached the car she was in her suit. She had a small, compact shape. Her legs were straight and well formed and none of the bulge of motherhood had lingered with her. She walked to meet us and her pointed breasts moved around under the smooth material. The hard nipples formed tiny dots, pushing out at us. I thought of how we had gone swimming and how I had kissed her briefly. I thought, again, about what a fine person she was.

  “You’re in the office in the morning, aren’t you, Nicky?”

  “Until nine.”

  “I might call you.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She smiled at Irene.

  “I’m glad you could come, Mrs. Schofield.”

  “Thank you. I enjoyed it.”

  She waved her hand at us and continued toward the lake. By the time she reached the water’s edge she was moving fast. The spray shot up as she dove in. Presently her head appeared and she turned and waved at us once more. Then she started swimming across the cove, heading for the cliff of rocks over there.

  We watched her for a moment and then got into the car. Bess was just pulling herself up out of the water, her wet body glistening in the sun, when I swung the Buick up the road.

  “Know something, Nicky?”

  “No.”

  She said nothing, so I glanced at her. She was staring out of the window, watching the trees flash by, a slight smile on her lips.

  “What should I know?”

  “That woman’s in love with you, Nicky.”

  We got to the highway before I could think up a reply to that one.

  “You’re wrong,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady. “It wouldn’t happen that quick with her.”

  “You aren’t in love with her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That’s all I wanted to know.” After that we didn’t talk about it any more.

  CHAPTER XIX

  MONDAY TURNED OUT TO BE BLACK Friday in doubles.

  The first thing that happened when I reached the office was a notice from Marie that a woman on West Street had called in and said she wanted to cash-surrender all of her insurance. That’s a nice way for an insurance man to start the week — it practically assures him of an ulcer and a disability pension from the company. Next, I found a note in my mail box from a clothing-store owner, saying that he had changed his mind about the ten thousand I’d had issued on him, and would I return the policy to the home office?

  “Jesus!” I said. “What else?”

  I got the answer to that when Austin came out and told me I was wanted on the phone. I followed him into his office, and braced myself to fight off another lapse.

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Weaver?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mrs. Walters.” Her voice was smooth over the wire. “Did I disturb you?”

  “No; that’s all right.”

  There was a slight pause. I had a feeling that she was going to say something I didn’t want to hear.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Weaver,” she said, “but I’ve thought it over and I believe I should withdraw my offer of a partnership in the lake property. You see, I — ”

  “Now, look here, Mrs. Walters! You should consider that pretty carefully. I’ve put in a lot of time, running around, and I’ve got the money to throw in with you. It would seem to me — ”

  “Naturally, I know how you must feel, Mr. Weaver,” she cut in, talking fast. “I know that you have gone to a lot of trouble on account of it. And you have been most helpful. I’d be glad to have you figure up how much your time was worth, and send me a bill.”

  “Well, thanks!” I sneered.

  “I’ll send you a check as soon as I get your — ”

  I slammed the phone down.

  “I hope that wasn’t a policyholder,” Austin said.

  “No.”

  I started out of the office, my steps slow and uncertain. “What about Schofield?” he wanted to know. “I forgot to ask you. Did you place it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. It’s placed.”

  “Good fellow! It’ll be on your report in the morning?”

  “Sure. In the morning.”

  I went out and got my debit book off the desk. A couple of the guys sat around, playing their week-end golf over again, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. I just stuck the book under my arm and got out of there.

  When I reached the car I had an urge to drive to Mrs. Bess Walters’ home and tell her off. But I didn’t. I knew that it wouldn’t do any good. I had expected something like this, ever since we’d left her the previous afternoon. And Bess was so wrong. Irene was right, all the way down the line.

  I drove cross-town to the start of the debit, all the while thinking about it.

  Irene had dropped the hint, while we sat there by the lake, that there might be some big money available. And Bess had told us how she felt about it. I hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but later that night it had come back to me. And it had stayed. So I’d seen this coming, long before she had picked up the phone in her home. I could have made up the words for her.

  Well, to hell with Bess Walters! She didn’t own the only lake in the world. She could take her lake and go jump into it.

  By the time I made my first collection I was in a good mood. The course ahead lay clear for me. When Shep got back from the city Irene would make the final break with him, and I’d pack her up and send her off some place to get a divorce. That shouldn’t take so very long, and by the time she was free I’d have it straightened out in my head what I wanted to do. But when I got that far in my thinking, my mind always went back to that lake. I’d liked it up there, the hard work it would require, the long plan that it had presented for me to conquer. The insurance business was all right, but I knew that it was just a stop-gap. After that it would be something else. It had always been that way with me. A dozen different jobs scattered throughout the world. I was getting tired of it. I wanted something big, something that I could set my teeth into and chew on.

  Around three I had worked myself into a sour frame of mind and I called off the collection for the day. On the way out of town I stopped at a liquor store and picked up a supply of bottles.

  Johnson was out trimming the grass around the edge of the lawn when I reached the hotel.

  “You building another cabin up there on the hill?” he asked me.

  I looked at him as though he were crazy.

  “Heard a lot of pounding up there,” h
e said.

  I left the debit book in the car.

  “Just the termites,” I said. “They got a set of tools from Montgomery Ward.”

  He laughed and went back to his grass cutting. I walked up the path, feeling the cool of the woods all around me. A small garter snake slithered across in front of me and out of sight. As I climbed up I could hear the muffled voices from down at the pool. A kid started to cry and a woman shouted. It was a typical summer afternoon.

  I smelled the paint before I got to the cabin, and I could see the boards that had been put up just to the right of the door, to keep anyone from walking on the floor. It had been painted a dark gray and I found it still wet when I tested it. The chairs had been put down on the ground, since there was such a small unpainted space left that about all one could do was open and close the screen door. I went in and looked for her.

  After I saw that she wasn’t there I looked for a note of some kind, but didn’t find any. There was plenty of ginger ale in the refrigerator, and several trays of ice. I opened up one of the bottles and had a drink.

  About three drinks later she came in. She wore a matching set of shorts and bra of some kind of soft yellow material that looked good on her.

  “You’re early,” she said.

  “Too hot in town.”

  “I went for a walk.” She came over and kissed me. “Miss your honey?”

  “You know I did.”

  “Mix me a drink, Nicky. I’m pooped!”

  “Okay.” Then, as I opened the refrigerator, “Who painted the porch?”

  “I did.”

  “How come?”

  “It needed it.”

  “I thought Johnson was supposed to do those things.”

  I carried the drink in to her. She was stretched out on the bed, relaxed. I put the drink down on the night stand.

  “Well, sure,” she said, sitting up. “Only it gets so damned lonely with you gone. I thought I could put in my time that way.”

  “He knew somebody was doing something,” I said. “He told me he heard pounding.”

  She laughed and lay down again.

  “I had to think of some way to keep your big feet off the paint.” I returned to the bottle and fixed myself another jolt. “Mrs. Walters called me this morning,” I said. “We’re out of the lake deal.”