Half Past Mourning

by Fleeta Cunningham

  Peter turned to his office and tugged at the warped desk drawer. Thumbing through a half dozen file folders, he pulled out the one with his car title and the letters he’d exchanged with the widow in Barlow when he bought the car. Talking with her was a place to start. He didn’t know what the future held for Nina, but he’d offered to help her find out. If Danny Wilson had bolted an hour after marrying the girl, he’d better pray Peter didn’t find him. Right now, Peter wasn’t sure which answer was the best for Nina, but he’d put his all into uncovering the truth for her. For a man who didn’t believe in kissing someone else’s wife, he was putting a lot of effort into finding a way to do just that.

  ****

  More than a week passed and Nina heard nothing further from Peter Shayne. She didn’t know what she’d expected, a miracle perhaps, but Peter didn’t call or send a message. He did have a job, she reminded herself, and she shouldn’t expect him to drop everything to dig into her dilemma.

  It’s just that he found Danny’s license and his knife, and that’s the first time anything like a clue has come to light. I had a flicker of hope, something new happened, and I got excited. I believed for a little while that this nightmare had an end. I don’t know what Peter could do that hasn’t already been done. It’s been too long.

  Nina saw the last of her fourth graders out the door and returned to tidy her desk, filing away the debris of the day. The school year was rapidly winding down. Ahead of her were the long, hot, empty days of summer. She could take a course or two over in Pueblo at the college, she supposed, or maybe make a trip with one of the other teachers. Paula King, the fifth grade teacher, was a good friend. They usually spent some of their summer together. Not this year, Nina reminded herself. Paula would be getting married this summer.

  Walking home in the warm spring sun lifted her spirits. Sinbad was waiting at the door, insisting with a raucous yowl that starvation was at hand, and she was personally responsible for his woes.

  “I told you to come in this morning, you know,” she told him as she put her books and purse down. “Now you’ve had to wait all day. Come on, let’s get your bowl filled before you expire.”

  As she filled the bowl, the phone rang. Peter! He’s found something! The thought sent her rushing back to the living room and the square black phone on the shelf beside the doorway.

  The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Peter’s. At first she didn’t recognize the caller.

  “Yes, this is Nina Kirkland,” she answered.

  “Nina, it’s Tinker,” the caller replied.

  “Tinker?” For a moment she was blank, unable to place the name. Then in a rush the name and the voice came together. “Oh, Tinker! Where are you? Here, in Santa Rita? How are you?”

  “I’m coming that way, Nina,” he answered. “I’ll be in a little after dark. Can I see you? I’ve thought about you a lot since I left, you and your uncle. Hoped you both were all right. Will you meet me somewhere?”

  “Of course, I want to see you. It’s been two years, and I’ve missed you. Come here, to my house. We can have dinner. It’ll be so good to see you.” The silence at the other end of the phone became strained.

  “I guess I’d better not come to your house, Nina. One or two people in Santa Rita might not be all that glad to see me. Can you meet me down by the river, along the walking path? Say about seven-thirty tonight? I want to see you, Nina, want to know how things are for you without Danny, but there are still a few people around here who might not give me such a warm welcome.”

  She did know, and Tinker Downs had every reason in the world to avoid a few people in town, mostly his own family. “I’ll be there, Tinker. I’ll wait at the bench below the Opera House. Can you find me?”

  “Like a hound finds a possum. See ya.”

  Tinker Downs, another part of the past coming back. She hadn’t thought of Tinker in the past year, maybe more. He was part of Danny’s world more than hers, a sad youngster who’d tagged Danny like a puppy. The child of an alcoholic father and a slatternly mother, neither of whom took notice of the boy unless he got caught in their vituperative and often violent fights, Tinker found refuge at the car museum and a friend in Danny. He’d left home a few days before turning eighteen and not been back since.

  What brought him back, Nina wondered as she changed from the brown-and-white glen-plaid chemise dress she’d worn for school to a comfortable pair of toreador pants and a print shirt. Tinker, cute as a pup and smart besides, had taken himself out of the house and away from his folks the instant he thought he could. He’d even missed her wedding, though it had been some time before Nina realized that. It would be good to see him. Too bad he wouldn’t come to the house.

  Not needing to hurry, Nina made herself dinner and poured a soft drink over ice as she remembered Tinker. With eyes black as obsidian and dark unruly hair that flopped over his forehead from an unmanageable cowlick, he was a good-looking boy. Worked hard at school, too, she remembered. He’d stuck it out till he graduated, then hitchhiked or maybe just walked away the moment he thought he could go without getting the sheriff after him as a runaway. Yes, she was anxious to see how he turned out. Danny had regarded him as a younger brother, sometimes a pest, but always ready to pitch in and help.

  Nina drove Woody into town by the back way, avoiding main streets until she could slip into the parking lot behind the Opera House. The deserted lot held only shadows, and if she hadn’t spent her childhood clambering down the rough, worn steps behind the theater to the walking path beside the river, she’d be a little concerned in the dark. Nina had grown up racing up and down the pathways, climbing the trees, and skimming pebbles across the river, so she knew the twisting path as well as anyone in town.

  The stone bench was half hidden in the trees shadowing the walk. She crunched across the sand-covered byway and sat down to wait.

  “You still look like a kid, Nina,” a voice said from the trees behind her.

  Startled, Nina spun to look over her shoulder. “And you’re still playing hide-and-seek, Tink. Get out here where I can take a look at you.”

  A thin form in denim and a leather jacket emerged from the trees behind her. “I don’t look quite as much like a kid as I did,” he answered. Tinker Downs didn’t sit as much as become part of the shadows on the bench beside her.

  She peered into his face, the moon revealing that a certain wariness sharpened his features, though he was still much the boy she’d known. “You look good, Tinker. Like you know who you are and what you’re doing.”

  “Just a shade-tree mechanic, Nina, but a good one. I’m on my way to New Mexico. Got a buddy out there who wants me to work for him. Has a fleet of trucks he leases out and thinks I can keep them running for him. Took a side trip. I owe your uncle for helping me get away. I want to see him tomorrow late, after the place closes, just to let him know I’m all right, but I thought I could see you for a minute tonight. I always worried how you’d get on without Danny.”

  Nina pushed her hair back with both hands. So much was happening, so many things turning up suddenly, and all tied to Danny. She’d been without him a long time now, but suddenly reminders were surfacing around her. Maybe that meant Danny would be coming, too.

  “I’m all right, Tink. Still teaching school, trying to keep the fourth grade from becoming a menace to society.”

  Tinker leaned toward her, barely visible as a cloud covered the moon. “I hoped you’d be all right. You’re strong and you’re too smart to let one bad break ruin your life.” He seemed lost in thought a moment. “Did you ever marry, Nina? I guess not, if you’re still Kirkland and still teaching school. You’d maybe have a kid of your own by now if the right man came along.”

  Stunned by the question, Nina gripped the edge of the stone bench. “Marry?” The word stuck in her throat. “How could I marry anyone else? I’m still married to Danny, even though he’s never come back.”

  “You mean,” Tinker stopped and began again. “You mean, Danny we
nt through with it? You and he…you got married after all?”

  “You thought we didn’t?” Two factors came together in Nina’s mind, came together and froze her soul. “You weren’t here for the wedding, Tinker, but you knew Danny was gone. For some reason you knew he was gone, but you didn’t know we married. Why, Tinker? Why did you think we weren’t married?” She caught his arm, pressing into the leather jacket with all her frantic energy. “How did you know Danny was gone?”

  “I don’t know…” he began. “Maybe it’s better…I just don’t know.”

  Through the faint light of the moon’s thinning veil she could see the pain and doubt that twisted his lips and narrowed his eyes.

  “You have to tell me what you know, Tinker.” She made her voice as calm and reassuring as she would if she were speaking to one of her students. “It’s better if I know the truth. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Tinker hung his head, then looked up at her. “I guess it’s better, but it’s not a thing I ever expected to be telling you. I thought Danny would tell you himself.”

  “Go ahead, Tink. Tell me what Danny should have told me two years ago.”

  “It was his mother—you know how she was, always fussing over him. ‘Put on a coat, stay away from those people, you might catch something, don’t go out, stay here.’ Always acting like he’d break if he got out of her sight. Danny had enough of it. He was going to get away, he said.

  “He told me ’cause I was planning to get out of town myself. Danny talked me into staying till I graduated. Then I’d have a chance, he said, to make a life for myself. But if I took off, became just a kid on the run, I wouldn’t have a chance out in the world. He talked me into hanging on till school was over. But then he said he was going himself. And I said, ‘What about Nina and those wedding plans?’ He told me you’d be upset, hurt, but he’d tell you the wedding was off. And you’d understand because you knew how he’d never had a chance, always been penned up in that house with Marigold.

  “The wedding was a dodge, he said, something that would keep everybody looking one way while he slipped out of town. By the time folks realized the groom wasn’t going to show, he’d be out of the state. He said there wasn’t a thing illegal about changing your name and living another life. He was of age. Getting his trust fund and getting out of his mother’s control was what he wanted more than anything.” Tinker tilted his head, looking at Nina with a woebegone droop to his lips. “But something changed, huh? He did come to the wedding, and you two got married. Then he up and vanished? I guess I can see Danny doin’ that.”

  He fell silent and then added, “Danny had a wild streak in him, and he was pretty headstrong, like when a kid doesn’t get what he wants and tries to sneak it by another way. But I never thought he’d do you dirty like that, Nina. Other girls, maybe, but not you. I mean, he really cared about you—a lot more than he ever cared about those other girls.”

  Nina reeled as Tinker went on, painting the picture of a Danny she didn’t know—a womanizing, cheating, irresponsible Danny hell-bent on his own freedom. She made responses, said something that passed for conversation. She wasn’t sure what. Somehow she said goodbye to Tinker, promised to see him at the museum the next day, and found her way along the path, up the steps, and back to street level. The car started and, for all she recalled, steered its own way to Orchid Cottage on Jasmine Street. At any rate, at some point, she came to herself again and found she was sitting in the drive outside her house.

  Danny had planned to leave her at the church. He didn’t expect to be at their wedding. Something changed his mind about that but not about leaving. Everything she’d believed about Danny Wilson was a lie. Everything, including her trust in his love, was a sham. And there was no point in looking for him. After this much time and all the money he had at his fingertips, he could be anywhere on the planet, and with anyone he chose. He’d not be found, not now, not without an army to look and a fortune to spend on the search. Did she even want him back? Nina asked herself. This stranger, this coward, who left her to face the rubble he’d made of their lives—would she even want to take him back after that?

  A woman with wounds that pierced her soul, Nina pushed herself out of the car and into the house. Not thinking, she closed the drapes without turning on the lights.

  Mechanically she found the torn sheet of paper in the coffee table drawer and carried it to the telephone shelf. By the glow of the nightlight she read the number. The rotary turned under her shaking fingers.

  She waited, counting the rings. One, two, three—on the fourth one he answered.

  Nina could barely muster voice enough to speak in a flat monotone. “Peter, there’s no point in looking for Danny Wilson. I don’t know where he is, but I know what happened. Better to let it alone. Thanks for trying.”

  The receiver dropped from her trembling hands, and the room, black and silent, closed around her.

  Chapter 5

  Her mind still fogged by Tinker’s revelations, Nina turned from the telephone. Numb, as if she’d taken a physical blow, guarding against the pain that would soon break through, she wrapped her arms around herself and crept across the room. Each step was an effort. Her legs weighed more than she could lift, and every move drained her. She might have been wading against an icy current as she made her way in slow motion to the armchair beside the coffee table. Sapped from the effort, she crumpled in the chair, drawing her knees to her chest and huddling in misery. Her focus narrowed, the room fading into a mass of formless shadows, till the glimmer of the nightlight was all she saw.

  Random cobweb thoughts too vague and undirected to make sense drifted through her head and vanished into nothing. How long she sat, hunched in the chair, unable to feel anything, she didn’t know. A dim realization reached her at last. A fierce pounding rattled the door. A voice, a man’s voice, called her name.

  “Nina! Nina, are you in there? Nina, open the door!”

  As though sleepwalking, she pulled herself out of the chair. Too dazed to speak, she stumbled to the door and opened it.

  “Nina, for God’s sake, what happened? Why are you sitting in the dark?” Peter fumbled for the switch by the door and turned on the lights. “What’s going on, Nina? What did you find out?”

  She couldn’t reply but turned away, heading for the sanctuary of her chair. Strong arms caught her, held her, and in a second she was drawn against the rough fibers of Peter’s sweater. Wrapped in his arms, reality sinking in, she couldn’t block the pain any longer. The absence of feeling that had protected her was swept away by his touch, and Nina stood trembling in Peter’s embrace.

  The ugly thing she’d refused to acknowledge welled up. She couldn’t hide from Tinker’s words any longer. Feeling, pain, anguish came in a tumultuous landslide. Hard, dry sobs wrenched her until she thought something inside would tear apart. Deceit, her mind screamed. Treachery, her heart answered. But she couldn’t say the words. She could only shudder with waves of agony as her world crashed before a flood of grief and despair.

  “Nina, tell me.” Peter’s insistent words penetrated. His solid grasp held her to him, a warm, secure barrier against the storm that overwhelmed her. “Nina, you’ve got to tell me what happened. Was it Danny? Did you hear from him? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  Nina drew a shaky breath. “Peter...” She felt the first tears flow down her cheeks. “Peter, I’ve been wrong, all along. I’ve been living in a dream.” She pulled herself from his arms and turned away. “I’ve been the biggest fool…the biggest fool that ever was.” The tears wouldn’t stop. They coursed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands, too humiliated to look at Peter.

  His hand was gentle on her shoulder. “I doubt that, sweetheart.” His grasp was firm but caring as he raised her face, and she found herself looking into his steady grey eyes. “Can you tell me what’s happened?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no reason to look for Danny. He doesn’t want to be found. And”—pain made h
er voice unsteady—“and I don’t think I could face him if I did find him.”

  Peter didn’t move away. He continued to regard her with an unwavering look, head tilted, tone unconvinced. “How do you know, Nina? He talked to you? Called? Wrote a letter after all this time?”

  She tried to turn away again, but something in Peter’s stance, his immovable form, made her reach out to him. “Do I really have to talk about it? Can’t we just let it go?”

  “If two years of hopes have crashed down around you, don’t you think you need to talk to somebody, Nina? I’m here and at least a little involved, but if you’d rather have someone else, I understand. Want to call your uncle? A girlfriend, maybe?”

  Uncle Eldon! I’ll have to tell him, let him know Tinker’s coming to see him. He loves Danny like a son; he’ll have to be prepared. But I can’t face him now. Recognizing she couldn’t keep the new information to herself, Nina straightened her shoulders and looked up at Peter. “I’ll tell Uncle Eldon later. He’ll have to know about this, but not tonight.” She wiped at her teary eyes, pushed damp curls from her cheeks, and gestured at the large, leather chair. “Sit down and give me a minute, will you? I’m an awful mess. We’ll talk in a little while, but let me put myself back together first.”

  A washcloth and hairbrush couldn’t remove all trace of the upheaval in her world, but after a few repairs Nina felt better prepared to bring Peter current with the situation. She took a moment to change from the pants and shirt she’d worn earlier to a warmer, less confining quilted robe. The red-and-white gingham gave color to her pale cheeks and dissipated some of the chill that clutched her.

  She saw Peter had found the bottle of brandy left from her Christmas baking and poured two small glasses. He pressed one into her hand when she returned to the living room.

  “I thought you could use this.” A slight smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Strictly medicinal, of course.”

  She sipped, let the fiery contents of the glass warm the ice that had formed around her heart, and nodded. “It helps.” She took refuge in her comforting chair and swallowed another sip of brandy.