by Juliette Fay
“The reporter’s name is Wick Lally.” Noreen came and handed the paper to Janie. While she waited for Janie to read it, she sat down next to Carly and straightened the straps of her sunsuit.
“Cripes,” muttered Janie, straining to concentrate over Carly’s piano playing. “What an ass.”
“Is it true?”
“Well, yes, I suppose it’s technically factual. But it sounds so melodramatic. And who cares about all these little details, anyway?” Janie was annoyed at how exposed she felt.
“Why did the priest…” Noreen fiddled with the slipcover on the couch, which seemed perfectly straight to Janie. “…why did Father come over? How did he know to come?”
The article stated that a neighbor saw a gray sedan in Janie’s driveway shortly after the incident. It remained there until the following morning when Father Jake emerged from the house and drove away in it. The neighbor claimed he was casually dressed and “shoeless.”
“I guess I called him,” said Janie. She turned the little piano upside down and Carly thumped on the bottom like a drum. The sound was much less jarring.
Noreen picked a thread from the slipcover’s hem. “Why not Charlie or Cormac? Or even Jude?”
“I don’t know,” Janie shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother them. Jake’s up half the night, anyway.”
“Bother them?” said Noreen, turning suddenly to Janie. “They’re family. You were attacked. They would never have considered it a bother. And how do you know Father’s up at night?”
“Because we’re friends. Neither of us sleeps very well, and sometimes we talk at night. It’s no big deal, Mum.” It sounded meaningless as she said it, but Janie knew it was not meaningless. It meant something. Carly flipped the piano right side up and began to bang on the tin-sounding keys again.
Noreen retreated to fiddling with the slipcover, smoothing the green-speckled print with her sun-spotted hand. “You’re very friendly with him.”
“So?” Janie flipped the piano again. Carly flipped it back.
“I’m not going to interfere in your life…”
“Good.”
“…but it seems to me that such a friendship might not be…”
“What?”
“…the best idea.”
“Mum, please. I don’t know what you’re worried about.” Janie knew exactly what her mother was worried about, and if she were completely honest, she would have admitted to herself that she, too, had some concerns. She didn’t like the quickening of her pulse when Jake came into view and she didn’t like how much she thought about him when he wasn’t with her. She certainly knew it was not a good idea to speculate whether he thought about her, too. And yet, like knowing where your mother hid the Easter chocolates when you were a child, it was hard not to think about it.
“Janie,” said Noreen, above the baby’s racket. “Sweetheart, please be careful.”
Janie tossed the little piano into the toy bin and took the angry baby into the kitchen for a snack.
THE AFTERNOON HAD GONE better than the morning. Once Dylan was home, his dogged attempts to learn to ride his new two-wheeler had distracted Janie and Noreen from the disturbing thoughts that Wick Lally’s insinuation-ridden report had aroused. Those concerns and their brief confrontation had not been laid to rest, however they had gone dormant for the time being. Noreen went over to Jude’s after dinner. To Janie, the relief was palpable.
The phone rang shortly after Janie got the children into bed. It was Heidi, with a tone to her voice that made Janie wonder if she were going to ask for a loan. “So what’s up?” Janie finally said.
“Well, nothing really. Just calling to say Hi…also, I was wondering if you know anything about your contractor’s…personal life. He wasn’t wearing a ring or anything…”
“You’re interested in Tug?” asked Janie. She stopped unloading the dishwasher.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Heidi. “I might be. If he isn’t married or involved or anything. I would never date a married man. Like ever.”
“I don’t think he’s married.” Janie held a mug in midair considering this point. “He’s never mentioned a wife or kids. Just his nieces.”
“He’s…handsome. Don’t you think he’s handsome?”
“He’s not bad looking.” Was Tug married? Did he have a woman in his life at all? How had she missed this point, she wondered, tapping the bottom of the mug against her palm.
“He’s very sweet with the boys,” said Heidi. “And he seems smart. Is he a good businessman?”
“I guess so. He’s not overcharging me or anything.” Actually, he’d gone out of his way to keep her costs down, she remembered.
“Do you think he would be okay if I, you know…asked him out?” Heidi seemed almost in pain at this point. “He’s not one of those macho guys who hates modern women, is he?” she asked, cringing.
“I honestly don’t know.” Janie put the mug on the counter and crossed her arms.
“Janie?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you find out?”
THE ROOF SHINGLES WERE done and Tug was working on a railing with balusters that would ring the porch. “The balusters aren’t strictly necessary,” he explained. “But with kids, you don’t want them running into the screen and punching holes in it or banging their heads on the railing.”
“Okay,” said Janie. “Sounds good.”
“I’m going to stain them cherry, so they’re lighter than the mahogany on the floor, but the colors won’t fight each other. You alright with that?”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“I said I was, didn’t I?”
Tug chuckled. “You going soft on me? I expect more pushback than that.”
“Let’s see,” she narrowed her eyes in mock anger, and stuck her fingers out dramatically as she counted: “The new back wall, the bigger window, the mahogany flooring, oh and let’s not forget the security system that’s not even part of the project. Now balusters. When—if ever—have you not gotten your way when you wanted to diverge from the plan? Huh? Never, that’s when. So why should I waste my time questioning you about something you’re just going to do, anyway?”
He laughed. “Guess you got me there.” After a moment her smile faded. “What?” he asked.
“It’s kind of embarrassing.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Heidi. You know, Keane’s mother? Blond, kind of perky?”
“I remember.”
“She asked me if you were married. You’ve been at my house all day every day, for over two months, and I don’t even know that about you.”
“Well…,” he stammered. “It’s not like we sit around shooting the breeze all the time. And you’ve been busy with your own…,” he searched for the word, “…life.”
“So are you?”
“No.”
“Seeing someone?”
“No.”
“Would you ever be interested in a date? With Heidi? Because she might be interested.”
Tug’s tan skin became tinged with pink. “Oh.”
“It’s okay to say no. She’s so…you know…cute. I’m sure there are lots of guys who would go out with her. It’s not like you’re the last chance she’ll ever have for a date.”
Tug let out a confused chuckle. “Okay.”
“Okay, yes?”
“No…,” he said, and took a breath. “No. I’m not dating these days. I’m kind of on vacation from all that.”
“Oh.” Janie didn’t know whether to ask for clarification, though she was vaguely curious. She was about to go back inside when he said, “Tell you the truth, she looks just like my ex-wife.”
“Really?”
“Dead ringer.”
“So…that’s not good. In terms of dating.”
“It’d be a little distracting.”
Janie smiled. “I won’t tell her that part.”
“She’s very nice,” he said. “I’m just not…”
“In the market. Okay. And guess what? I changed my mind about those balusters.” She flicked her thumb over her shoulder. “They’re out.”
He laughed and adjusted the baluster he’d been working on so it fit a little tighter. “Anything you say, Mrs. LaMarche. You’re the boss.”
THAT NIGHT, JANIE DREAMED she was trekking through a shadowy forest, muddy and scratched, as if she’d fallen down a ravine. Cold, wet clothing clung to her body, constricting her movement in every direction. The path she was following ended abruptly at the shore of a steam-shrouded lake. She pulled off her boots and tore at her clothes, aching to enter the warm water.
When she was finally free of every stitch of clammy, binding cloth, she dove in. The water was soft and warm and strangely buoyant. The scrapes on her aching limbs stopped hurting and she felt clean and safe. She was like a seal, skimming in and out of the water. Something swam up to her, another seal-person. He swam around and around her and she couldn’t see his face. His hands glided up her body, touching her, healing her. And then his head rose above the water and his lips skimmed across her face. She felt herself grow warmer and warmer until he was kissing her, gently probing her with his hands, and she reached out to pull his smooth wet body toward her.
“Jake,” she said, as their legs entwined and their heads slipped below the water.
WHEN SHE BECAME AWARE of the pillow under her cheek, Janie shut her eyes tighter and tried to dive back down into the dream. She wanted to be naked and warm and pressed against that seal-man’s body, with every nerve ending throbbing in anticipation of feeling good for a change; without a thought except for what might happen in the next moment, subsequent moments being too far in the future to warrant consideration. Not caring, not hurting, not knowing anyone or anything.
No such fucking luck, she groaned to herself as the light behind her eyelids seemed to grow brighter. The illusion of happiness slipping away from her, melting back into the recesses of her limited imagination, made her breathless with frustration.
It was Jake, she had to admit to herself. He was in the dream, and he was in her head in a way that he shouldn’t be. But what were her options? She knew she could not force herself to stop thinking about him any more than she could force herself not to dream about him. What if he were married? she asked herself. How would I handle it? She knew how—avoid him until the unwanted feelings subsided. It was the only way to deal with a stupid crush.
Unacceptable. She was barely getting through the days as it was. How would she vent her molten feelings, manage her hair-trigger temper, or feel the least bit understood without a daily dose of Jake? This…okay, yes, this crush—it would pass. It had only developed, like some minor localized infection, because her resistance was low. It had been eight months without intimacy of any kind, and her craving to connect—with anyone who could stand her long enough to understand her—had led her into this…infected crush.
Funny though. She’d never had an infection that felt this good.
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Janie asked her mother as she came downstairs to gun the coffee maker to full throttle. “You’re dressed up.”
“To church.”
On a Thursday? A vague tension settled into Janie’s shoulders. “Morning Mass?” she asked. Noreen nodded. Janie turned to find the bag of grounds in the cabinet. “Well, pray for me.”
“Every day,” said Noreen. “The best I can.”
WHEN JANIE DROPPED DYLAN off at Pond Pals camp, Heidi was there, taking longer than usual to get Keane settled, arranging his backpack with exacting precision in the pile of bags by the gate. “Oh, hi!” she said expectantly to Janie.
“Hi,” said Janie, shifting the growing baby a little higher up her hip. She waved to Dylan as he scooted off to assume the seat on the story blanket that Keane routinely saved for him.
“What’s new?” asked Heidi.
Janie shrugged. I have a pus-filled, suppurating, infected crush on the parish priest, she thought, but other than that, nothing much.
“Come on,” urged Heidi. “Don’t make me ask.”
“What?”
“Did you talk to him?”
Jake? she thought. But she knew Heidi could have no idea about that. No one did. “Oh, Tug.”
Heidi gave an embarrassed sigh. “It’s okay. You’ve got a lot on your mind.” She was doing that desperate, unpopular girl thing again, which was hard for Janie to make sense of in the context of the Gwyneth Paltrow looks and the Ann Taylor suit.
“No, I talked to him,” said Janie. “He’s divorced, but not looking. He’s on vacation from dating.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s pretty much all he said.”
Heidi’s face went slack with disappointment, then she nodded. “Must have been a bad divorce.”
“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”
“No, that’s definitely it. People swear off dating when they’ve been hurt. His wife probably had an affair or something. There’s nothing like that to kill your interest.”
Janie was just getting used to the idea of considering Tug’s love life at all. Had he been hurt somehow? He didn’t show it. Come to think of it, he didn’t show much of anything, other than a penchant for chocolate milk and an uncanny understanding of small boys.
“Well, I’d better get to work,” said Heidi. “Thanks for trying.”
Janie felt a flash of sympathy. “You know, you’re a nice person. Smart and pretty. It’ll happen.”
“Thanks,” said Heidi, fingering her car keys. She squinted in the direction of the parking lot. “I’d better get to work.”
IT WAS A QUIET afternoon. Noreen took Dylan to Cormac’s Confectionary for a snack after camp, leaving Janie with the napping baby and the hum of the washing machine. Janie loaded and unloaded, washed and dried, sorted and folded. It seemed as if she hadn’t done laundry in weeks.
When, toward the end of the afternoon, the washer and dryer had stopped, the hum remained, and Janie recognized the crackling buzz of a coming thunderstorm. Tug went home early, pulling away in the white truck just as the rain started. Janie sat on the living room rug surrounded by piles of folded laundry, and listened to the tack, tack, tack of the first raindrops spattering on the roof. The familiar sound had changed slightly, was somehow more distant now that the new porch roof sheltered the front door from the weather. Tug had installed special gutters for the new section of roof and continued them on across the old. They were designed to resist the deposits of nature’s detritus. They should never need cleaning, he’d told her, and offered to install them across the back of the house as well. She was still deciding.
The cozy sound of the rain made her wish for Robby’s arms around her, as they had been for so many thunderstorms. She remembered one time early on, when they’d gone camping in the Berkshires. Instead of hiking in the rain, they’d spent the dreary day in the tent snuggled in their sleeping bag, alternately making love, sleeping, nibbling on trail mix and singing songs to each other. Janie didn’t have much of a voice, so she chose camp songs she’d remembered from childhood: “Sipping Cider Through a Straw” and “Found a Peanut” and the like. Robby tried to harmonize, though he often didn’t know the words, and the silly lyrics and off-key melody would make them laugh and roll around in the sleeping bag until they were kissing and clutching each other once again.
“Smell this,” Janie had said when they’d gotten home and pulled the packs apart by the washing machine. She’d held out the open sleeping bag to him. “Take a whiff, if you dare.”
“Whoa!” laughed Robby after he’d stuck his nose in. “And a good time was had by all!”
It had become a joke between them, something they’d say to each other after particularly exceptional sex. Now, sitting in the living room, wishing for the gazillionth time in the last eight months that she could feel him near her, she could remember that phrase. But, in her mind she could not hear him say it. The words were there, but not the sound of his voice.
No, she thought, slipping into the deep end of her sorrow. Don’t fade. Please, Robby, honey. Please don’t fade away on me. What will I have when there’s not even the memory of your voice? Nothing. I will have nothing.
WHEN NOREEN AND DYLAN returned just before dinner with a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken from the market, Janie was dozing on the rug amid the clean clothes. She had cried so hard, and become so weak and exhausted, she’d fallen asleep right where she sat.
“Mommy’s tired,” Janie heard Dylan whisper as she was coming to. “She gets tired a lot.”
“She works hard,” said Noreen. “Try to help her when you can.”
“How?” said Dylan.
“Just be the best boy you can be.”
“I am,” he said, as if it were obvious.
“Yes, of course you are.”
“KIND OF A ROUGH day,” Janie e-mailed Jake at 2:15 a.m. She read the Boston Globe online, stopping to check for his response every few minutes, until quarter to four. But none ever came.
13
JAKE WAS WEARING THE somber black sport shoes when he showed up at eleven o’clock on Friday morning, not the walking shoes. And he had his collar on.
“No walk?” asked Janie. She stopped fastening the chest strap on Carly’s baby backpack.
“Not today,” he said quietly.
“You have some sort of meeting after this?” she said indicating the collar. “You’re all suited up.”
“Oh.” He fingered the collar, then clasped his hands firmly in front of him. “Let’s go inside.”
Janie took Carly out of the backpack and set her up with some toys in the living room. She felt a strange numbness come over her, as if she were watching herself take out the little toy piano and the blocks, but the hands weren’t actually hers.
“Tea?” she asked when she went into the kitchen.
