"I'll try to remember." I climbed the steps to the back door and tapped. I saw his mother through the window.
Her platinum hair crowning her round, smiling face made her look both regal and matronly at the same time. She wore a white cook's apron over black slacks and a print tunic.
Martha Stone glanced in the direction of my knocking. "Hello, Sophia," she said warmly as she opened the door. "I'm happy to see you." As Martha embraced me against her full, soft bosom, I felt welcome and at home. Then I noticed the seven places set at the dinner table and shuddered in anxious anticipation.
16
Ray followed me into the kitchen. He closed the door and waited his turn to embrace his mother. "Anybody else here yet?" he asked, releasing her.
"No Raymond, but I'm expectin' them shortly."
As Ray and Martha exchanged family pleasantries, I heard the front door open. A few seconds later the connecting door from the living room flew open, and Branden burst into the kitchen.
"Dad. What are you doing here?" It was apparent by the tone of his voice the boy was not pleased.
Ray, smiling warmly, said, "The main reason is to see you." Ray stepped toward him, arms open wide.
Branden backed through the door and stuck his hands in his pockets, hugging his elbows tight to his slender body. Ray approached his son, but the boy continued to back away. "Nice to see you, Dad. I'm outta here."
I didn't think Ray could deny the child was his, same color hair and eyes, and working on the same body type. I, of course, had no clue about Pyle's appearance, or for that matter, what the men in Elaine's family looked like.
"Please don't go, son. You and I need to talk."
"Did Mom call you?" Branden's voice cracked, covering an octave in the short sentence.
"Yes, and I've talked to Chief Ervin." Ray held his ground, but didn't close in on Branden's space either. I knew he was trying his best to be patient, to act like a father and not like a cop. I admired his restraint.
"This really pisses me off. When something good happens, where are you? Just let me get into trouble, and you show right up." His face reddened, but he made no further movement toward the front door. I wondered if the kid's escapades were a bid for attention from his father.
"Branden, I've been here for good things, too. I've been with you for every one of your birthdays, almost every Christmas, and I came when your baseball team made district. I can only come a few times a year. What do you expect?"
"I expect you to live in the same town, in the same house as I do. If you want to be my dad, you should be here when I need you."
"You know that's not possible."
"Why not? Mom says it is. Says if you weren't so stubborn, you'd be living here." He pointed in my direction. "It's because of her."
"Your mother and I split up many years ago. You were a baby. That was long before I knew Sophia."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You had to leave town because of your work. But you didn't have to leave the whole state. You could have stayed close."
"Not then. All the mess made it impossible for me to get a job around here. I went where there was work. We've talked about it before. I left the area because I had to."
Martha and I listened from a distance as they clashed over old ground. Elaine's affair with the man convicted of the biggest crime the county had witnessed in many years damaged Ray's credibility as a police officer, and he couldn't get a position with another department in the area. Elaine couldn't go back home to Alabama. She was from the same town as Pyle. Ray moved south, leaving his children in the safest environment possible—under the watchful eyes of his parents.
"Tell you what. The kids at school say you're not my real dad anyway. They say that Pyle guy knocked my mother up. I got killer genes."
Martha and I glanced at each other. I had a suspicion we were thinking the same thing. Branden thought he had inherited a destiny for trouble and believed he was acting out his fate.
"I don't know that to be true. As far as I'm concerned, you're my son, no matter what."
"Yeah, right." Branden had the tough guy sneer down pat. "You run up here to kick my ass and prove you love me."
Ray pointed to the sofa. "Sit, Branden. Let's talk this out."
"I'd rather go home."
"Please, sit down." Ray's tone was gentle, but his insistent stare left no room for further argument.
Branden flopped onto the beige, floral print sofa and assumed the position—slouching passivity. Ray did not sit next to him, but chose a nearby club chair, pulling it around so he faced the boy.
Martha closed the swinging door separating the kitchen from the living-dining room. "They need to work it out."
"I agree," I said. "It's painful for both of them."
"That's true, as it should be. Branden has had a hard year. One of the girls at school learned our family dirt from her mother and spread it around. Though Branden still has his friends, some of the kids have been calling him a bad seed. The older boys tried to take advantage of his sister, Kerri. She quit dating altogether. She says she'll wait until she gets to college. All she does is work at Country Café, go to school, and sometimes visit her friend in Roanoke."
"It's tough on kids when family problems become public," I said.
"Sometimes I think it would be better if Elaine took the kids back to Alabama. Montgomery is big enough that they wouldn't have to deal with the issues."
"Doesn't the Pyle family live there?"
"Big Al went back there when he left jail, but I heard he moved on. He had the two boys, the one who still lives here and owns the rental shop, and Buddy Lee. Elaine's sister, Suzanne, still lives in Montgomery though her parents were killed in an auto accident some years ago."
"That's terrible. She has few options," I said, feeling a wave of sadness as I considered her plight.
"That's about the size of it." Martha busied herself at the sink, which I interpreted as a signal we had finished the topic.
I took off my jacket, hung it on a row of pegs behind the kitchen door, and looped the handle of my purse over the peg. "This okay?"
"Of course." She opened a cupboard door. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"I'd love some." I noticed, for the first time, the rich smell of coffee permeating the room and mingling with the sweet bouquet of cinnamon-apple pie and the savory aroma of roasting pork. Scanning the stove, I saw potatoes ready to boil—for mashing I hoped—and a small covered kettle I assumed contained vegetables. Homemade buns proofed under a floral-print cloth on the counter. "I told Ray this morning I wanted one of your meals." I waved my arm around the kitchen. "This smells wonderful."
"I make Raymond's favorites when he comes."
"He'll be delighted when he notices."
I took the mug she offered and climbed onto an old-fashioned kitchen stool with a metal back and foldout steps. Martha had reupholstered the stool in a mauve flowered vinyl. I was certain the pattern didn't exist when Martha purchased the stool.
The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was what I called comfortable-country décor. Plaster plaques of fruits and flowers accented the miniature-flowered wallpaper. Built-in open storage racks displayed plates and cups, and glass cabinet doors revealed neatly organized dishes and staples. The kitchen window overlooked the back yard that descended into a deep wooded gully before climbing to meet the neighbor's property.
From my brief glance into the living-dining room, I saw it hadn't changed much since my last visit. Heavy knotty pine dining room furniture and living room tables matched the trim on the sofa and club chairs. Family portraits and a few non-descript paintings decorated the walls. Overall, it was similar to the North Dakota home where I grew up—a couple of thousand miles east. Why I felt comfortable here was obvious. I smiled thinking about Connie's house in Florida, distinctly different locale, same décor. I'd always felt comfortable with Connie.
Martha refused my offer to help and continued with her dinner preparations. I stared out the window
and tried not to eavesdrop on Ray and his son in the other room. That proved to be difficult. Branden was communicating at a level a few decibels shy of screaming.
"Okay, you're right," Branden shouted, "I was at the middle school today. What's wrong with that?" I presumed Ray responded, but he kept his voice low. Then the boy continued, "You spied on me, Dad. Now, you want me to trust you."
"The thing is," Ray said, his voice getting louder, "if you don't cooperate with Ervin, he'll arrest you." He opened the kitchen door. "You'll be off to Juvenile Hall, where you'll stay until you're eighteen. I won't be able to do a thing about it. The chief has the goods on you, son."
Ray walked and Branden stalked through the room, ignoring us. A moment later, the back door slammed behind them.
I heard Branden say, "Holy shit, man. That's hot." Then I heard the S2000's engine roar. Male bonding at its finest.
"Martha," I said, sipping the strong coffee, "it looks like they're making progress. At least they're talking."
"I wouldn't hold my breath. Branden has been difficult. He's been vicious to his mother, accusing her of all sorts of things. He takes everything that happened before his birth personally. The only people he gets along with are John and me. We accept him as is." She took a large bowl from under the counter and began tearing lettuce into it.
"That's the grandparent's role, isn't it?" I raised my coffee cup to punctuate the question.
"It should be the parent's role. Elaine is a lovely woman, but she has her hands full. She finally put her life in order and regained some respect around town." Martha looked over her shoulder, as if to see how I responded to her comment.
I kept a neutral expression, but said, "Doesn't sound that way from what Branden said."
Martha fluffed the lettuce and set the bowl aside. I watched her slice a dark red, beefsteak tomato, smelling its sweetness across the room.
"Why would someone be spreading stories after all these years? It doesn't make much sense to me." I was puzzled. Fourteen years is usually ancient history to kids.
"The girl with the big mouth—well, her mother, Amy Lynn Durant, is a good friend of Pyle's brother, Donny. Amy Lynn tries to do whatever she can to make Elaine miserable. I don't know if she had a thing for Buddy Lee or not, but she chased after Raymond in high school. She was put out when he came home from college all married up. She ran around town badmouthing Elaine and Ray both. Then a few years ago, she had a thing going with Jake Ervin. It was soon after the chief's wife ran off. The chief dumped Amy Lynn to chase after Elaine. Elaine dated Jake for some time, but things didn't work out. I'm not sure why."
"It sounds like every time Amy Lynn gets a thing for a man, Elaine gets in the way."
She finished slicing a second tomato. "Amy Lynn is so vicious she picked a fight with Elaine outside a club in Roanoke a while back and offered to carry out Buddy Lee's threats to kill her. Amy Lynn's real back street trash." Martha swooshed the tomatoes into the salad with vigor. Several slices cleared the bowl and landed on the counter. "Elaine thought about getting a restraining order or suing the woman for slander. She decided it was better not to pee in a full pot since what the woman said was essentially true, just old news. It, nevertheless, was damaging to the kids." Martha finished retrieving the offending tomato slices and placed them in the salad.
I thought about the recent telephone call Elaine received from Buddy Lee Pyle and wondered if Amy Lynn Durant knew about it. Was it true Pyle was after revenge, feeling Elaine and Ray wronged him many years earlier? Was Amy Lynn Durant prepared to help Pyle get his revenge? On the surface at least, she sounded capable of it.
I stretched out my leg and hip, but I didn't get up from the stool. "Martha, it sounds like a soap opera."
"I never thought about it that way. Except for the children, getting out of here was the best thing for Raymond." Martha said.
"The best thing he could have done, Mom, was stay with me."
I knew the voice belonged to Elaine before she stepped into the kitchen, closing the door behind her. I wondered if she always made comments like that without knowing who was in the room.
She glared at me. "Oh, he brought you along."
I drew a long, slow breath, stood, and extended my hand. "Hello, Elaine. It's nice to see you, too." I had met her in the early nineties when Ray and I visited his parents. Elaine was less than cordial to me then, and I avoided her as much as possible. I hadn't gotten to know her at all and didn't like her because it was obvious she still wanted Ray. I remembered how Elaine always managed to be next to him, hanging onto his every word. I pouted and whined like the child I was, though I wouldn't have admitted it then.
I stared at her and realized we resembled each other. We were both about five-three, on the thin side, with dark eyes and black hair. Her hair was shorter, jaw length with a fringe of bangs. She looked older with crow's feet and a scattering of gray in her hair. Elaine wore a sleek fitting black pants suit with large crystal buttons—high fashion for a bank VP in a small town. I surmised she changed clothes before coming to dinner.
"Sophia, isn't it?" She took my hand and shook it professionally. "It's a surprise to see you here, but, ah . . . welcome anyway. I . . . ah . . . well, I didn't know you were in the picture again, not like this anyway. I mean, he didn't— No, I don't suppose he would tell me." She dropped my hand and sat in a kitchen chair, letting her pocketbook drop to her feet. I was happy to see he hadn't confided in her—and delighted she hadn't expected him to.
I waited, giving her time to regroup while I tried to settle my own internal turmoil. "Elaine, I'm sorry you're surprised. Ray and I live together."
"I see." During the brief exchange, she appeared to age—a slump to her shoulders, a sag to her smile.
"If I make you uncomfortable, I can go back to the motel. I don't mind, really I don't. I know this is family business." I slipped off the stool and reached for my purse.
"Sophia," Martha said, turning to face us, "please stay. You young ladies will have to face this situation in the future. You might as well adjust to it now. If you give yourselves a chance, I'm sure you'll find you have a lot in common."
Other than both being in love with the same man? I thought. I pointed to the coffeepot. "Elaine, can I pour you a cup?"
"Oh, why not?" she said with a forced laugh. She looked startled, went silent, and then laughed again, this time with sincerity. Elaine had a pretty smile.
"I do agree we might have warned you." I extended a peace offering.
"That would have been nice."
"Sorry."
"Forgiven."
As we chatted about the weather and the drive to Virginia, I began to like the woman and understood why Ray's parents were fond of her. But after Elaine's behavior, I didn't think Ray's parents wanted Ray and Elaine married.
Ray once told me he thought his mother, a retired teacher, had an uncanny knack for discerning the truth, and she didn't coat what she had to say in honey either. Ray claimed to have gotten his detective genes from her. Ray's father, John, had a reputation for sticking his head under his barber chair. Though he was intelligent and wise, he had difficulty facing the unhappier realities of life.
Ray's father and daughter, Kerri, arrived together. John, a slightly stooped, tall thin man with sparse gray hair, embraced each of us in turn and didn't seem to notice anything unusual in the three women sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Kerri, on the other hand, seemed taken aback.
She stared at me, then at her mother. "Who's she?" she asked before anyone could make introductions.
"She's your father's fiancée, Sophia," Martha said.
"Oh." She stood a minute before addressing me. "Hello."
"Hello, Kerri. Your dad has told me a lot about you."
She scrunched her face, paused, seeming to collect herself, then she laughed. "I suppose he has. What do you do?" She stood in the kitchen doorway. At five-nine, she stood almost as tall as her brother, but she was even thinner, with long straight
hair in the same brown shade. Her tight jeans and stretch top showed her model's figure to its advantage. The sweet scent of inexpensive cologne hung in the air.
"You mean, why am I here?" I asked. I didn't want to answer too quickly and ruin a potentially good impression.
"No, what do you do? Are you a cop?" Kerri said.
"No, I used to be a cop, but now I'm a nurse. It fits me better."
"Oh really," Kerri's eyes lit up. "That's what I want to be." She sat facing me at the table. "I never get the chance to talk to a real nurse. The only one I know is in my doctor's office, and she's old. I don't know if she ever worked in a hospital even." While the rest of the family listened in amazed amusement, Kerri dominated the conversation, peppering me with questions.
Elaine interrupted, saying, "Kerri, maybe you and Sophia can continue this conversation later."
Kerri frowned at her mother. "Sophia, promise me we can talk some more. I have a zillion things to ask."
"I'll be glad to tell you all I can," I said. The young lady was charming in her enthusiasm. I expected the next interrogation to be entertaining.
"Grandma, where's Dad?" Kerri asked.
"He's taking a drive with Branden. I expect they'll be back in a few minutes. They've been gone quite a while," Martha said, checking her watch. She stood and slid the place setting she had moved aside back into place. "I'd better get this dinner on the table. It'll be a long night."
17
Ray and Branden reappeared as John finished slicing the roast pork. "I see we're right on time," Ray said, stepping through the back door. He hugged his father, shook hands with Elaine, and hugged Kerri, who stiffened in the process. Ray appeared not to notice. "It's good to see you, sweetheart. I've missed you."
Imperfect Daddy Page 7
