Here are the opening pages of A Change of Heart. Enjoy!
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“Don’t stop at the Quick Mart now hon, please. The parade is going to start any minute and I promised we’d be there early. Maggie will have plenty to drink at her house.” Annabeth Welner laid her hand gently on her husband’s knee, feeling it tense beneath her fingers. “I promised to take pictures of the parade.”
R.J. glowered at her, “Since when did Maggie ever have beer? I drunk all of her lousy iced tea and lemonade I’m gonna. I want my beer. We got time, so relax, will you.” Cursing at a roadblock, R.J. swerved the van around the barrier and into the parking lot of the Quick Mart.
Annabeth regarded her husband, reached to smooth his hair, felt him flinch once again and watched as he exited the van and walked toward the store. He was a man not yet fifty, smaller than five-feet-eight-inches tall, his arms and legs rather scrawny although he appeared overweight because of the beer belly that resembled a basketball somehow swallowed in tact and protruding above his belt. His hair rose wildly from his scalp, and now and then he scratched at his head, a nervous gesture which compounded the problem. What was it about him today? He had that look he sometimes displayed when he’d taken a shortcut he shouldn’t have, when something he’d carelessly set in motion was bound toward disaster. But what? In his eyes was desperation, discontent in the extreme. Could all this be because they were once again going to Maggie’s? R.J. had made no secret of his dislike of her old friend over the years, but he wasn’t usually so bad tempered, and Annabeth wondered why. Could R.J. be unwell? Annabeth glanced at the dashboard clock, which kept perfect time. It was a small town and an even smaller parade. The whole event took just minutes. She shook her head; there was the whistle. It had begun already.
Annabeth craned her neck, first watching the corner to see the parade begin and then mentally calculating how long it would take to reach Maggie’s house and whether they could beat it by taking a short cut. Then she glanced into the store, where her husband lingered, two six packs on the counter in front of him, and a smile on his face. Behind the counter stood a young woman who was about the age of their older daughter, Laurel, and Annabeth could see her smiling as well. R.J. touched the girl on the shoulder, something that struck Annabeth as rather odd. He was always flirting, though. He loved women and needed attention and enjoyed turning on the charm for a stranger. It was harmless and Annabeth couldn’t remember ever being jealous.
She glanced at the clock again and wished R.J. would speed it up. At this moment, Maggie was no doubt sitting on the green glider on her front porch, complaining about the heat and pressing a half-emptied iced tea glass to her cheek. Her husband Hugh, placating as always, would by now have started fiddling with the camera so that he could get a shot of their granddaughter Lindsey when she paraded by with the other karate students. And Maggie was probably saying something like, “Oh Hugh, wait for Annabeth, she’s artistic.”
This was ridiculous. What was R.J. doing? She exited the van and walked toward the store, and only then did he emerge. “We’re late. By the time we park, the parade will be over.”
“So what? Three floats and a bunch of Shriners in kiddie cars isn’t no big deal. Bad enough you have to haul a ton of food over to her house for every party.”
“What’s the matter with you R.J.? Are you all right?”
“I just wanna get this over with, okay?” R.J. parked the van and carried only a crockpot filled with homemade baked beans, which he balanced on top of the beer, leaving her to struggle with large containers of fruit, potato and pasta salads, several bags of breads, and a basket of cookies.
Hugh, a lawyer and the perfect Southern gentleman, leapt up to help Annabeth as Maggie growled, “You’re late! You missed the parade and Hugh had to take the pictures. And he’s half blind, so who knows if they turned out at all. My granddaughter is in the parade for the first time and we maybe don’t have a shot of it.” Oblivious to her husband’s scowl, Maggie clucked her tongue, then narrowed her glance at R.J., “And I see you brought your own drinks. Thank goodness for the miracle of beer.”
R.J. looked down at Maggie, who hadn’t bothered to rise from the glider. “You’re lookin’ a bit heavier, Mags. Been gainin’ weight lately?” Annabeth cringed as Maggie’s mouth dropped open.
Once more Maggie glared at R.J. then said, “You look a bit fatter yourself, or did you swallow a whole watermelon?”
“Stop it you two. Behave yourselves. It’s too hot for all this nonsense.” Annabeth interrupted before anything worse could be said. Holding up the basket, she continued, “Who wants a cookie?”
“Who has time to sit around eating cookies,” complained Maggie, snatching the basket from Annabeth and digging in it. “No Chocolate chips?” Locating one, she put it in her mouth then walked into the house, indicating that Annabeth should follow.
“How’s the car collection,” Hugh asked R.J., who brightened at the change of subject and trailed after Hugh to the back yard where the smoker was already cooking chicken and ribs.
“Car collection,” sneered Maggie. “No other wife would let her husband keep all those cars at the side of the house. What’s he got—a dozen or more now?” Maggie clucked her tongue then began smearing icing on a large sheet cake while Annabeth silently set out some of the food. It was pointless to discuss R.J.’s cars with Maggie; they’d done it too many times before. Collecting those cars made him feel young, and even if he never did manage to restore them as he boasted he would each time he hauled home a new one, they made him happy, so what was the harm?
The backyard had begun to fill with assorted friends and family members, and the two women went outside to join them. Annabeth, spotting her father and stepmother Ginger talking to Hugh, walked over and reached up to kiss Will Copeland’s cheek, which he carelessly accepted without a break in the conversation.
“Um, Dad?” said Annabeth. When Will held up one finger indicating he was concentrating on Hugh’s comments, Annabeth turned to check on the food.
“Oh, Annabeth,” said Ginger, “I need some hems done this week.”
Annabeth answered without even pausing to think about her own obligations, “Sure, okay.” They stood mingling, talking, eating, until the little bell fastened to the side gate began to ring. It was her daughter Sally with Maggie’s son Jackson.
“Did you start without us?” asked Sally. Annabeth smiled as she observed them; they made a nice couple. He was tall with freckles and sandy hair, and his demeanor was slow and constant. Sally was soft and sweet, a girly girl, emotional and sensitive, kind of like Annabeth herself, although she was slight and small boned, delicate looking, with dark hair and eyes.
“I wanna talk to you two,” said R.J., always a bit too loud.
Annabeth wrapped her arm tightly around Sally’s shoulder and she wondered how many beers had R.J. drunk so far. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything he shouldn’t.
“Yes, sir?” asked Jackson politely.
“You been livin’ with my daughter for how long now?”
Jackson’s eyes widened as Sally blushed and said, “Daddy!”
“And you know I was against it.”
Annabeth reached her hand toward her husband’s arm. She had been against Sally moving out of the house as well, but they were old enough and maybe Sally would go to college eventually. “R.J.,” she said, hoping to sidetrack him.
“And now you just keep on livin’ together, don’t you. Takin’ advantage…”
“Daddy!” exclaimed Sally, blushing even more deeply.
“Well, we’re going to get married eventually,” said Jackson.
R.J. nodded his head vigorously, “About time.” Raising his voice, he spoke to the group, “Did y’all hear that? We got an engagement! This boy is finally gonna marry my little girl! We’ll have a wedding by next month!”
Observing Sally’s shocked face and Jackson’s look of astonishment, Annabeth interceded, “Not so fast! They’re way too young to m
arry and next month is obviously out of the question.”
Jackson leaned toward Sally, whispered something in her ear that Annabeth couldn’t hear, then he said, “Okay, sure, how about September then?”
It was hot outside, so it was natural that Sally’s face would appear a bit damp from the heat, but Annabeth was certain her daughter perspired because she was unready to make this huge commitment, this monumental decision. She was a baby still, just a girl, too young, way too young, and not ready. “No,” insisted Annabeth, “They’re too young.”
“It’s okay Mom, really,” whispered Sally.
“You’ll get married on Valentine’s Day,” decided Maggie.
Thinking that would allow them plenty of time for postponements if necessary, Annabeth offered no further protests. Later, as she and R.J. drove home, she spoke up. “What were you thinking, bullying those kids like that?”
“I wasn’t bullyin’ nobody.”
“R.J.! You just can’t do things like that. Remember the bike?” He looked at her, narrowed his eyes and remained silent. Sally had been three when R.J. decided she should be able to ride a bike that was too big for her. He pushed and pushed and eventually she did ride the bike, but the moment he stood back and left her to do it on her own, Sally toppled and bloodied her knee. “She wouldn’t get back on a bike until she was six, remember?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, she’s not three.”
“Kids have to do things when they’re ready, not when we think they should. Not that I think Sally and Jackson need to rush into anything. They’re young.”
“Why should she be on my back all my life? He should marry her.”
“On your back? What’s wrong with you, R.J.?” How many beers had he drunk?
“Yeah well, he’ll live with her for a while, get sick of her and kick her out. Then I’ll have to take care of her.”
Annabeth shook her head. “What a thing to say about your daughter! Jackson loves Sally, you know that. He always has. Since eighth grade. And Sally works at the bank, earns her own living. She’s not some property that needs taking care of!”
There was a sense of raw desperation in R.J.’s eyes as he glanced at her. He looked like an animal right after it had been trapped in a cage. “I know, you’re right, I’m sorry, I know.” He parked the van in front of their home and wearily exited it, lumbering up the few steps to the front porch, where he dropped down heavily into a rocker.
Sitting down in the rocker beside his, Annabeth watched R.J. as he sat silently smoking. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.
His voice cracked as he answered, “Life. There oughtta be more than this. I’m forty-seven. Might as well be ninety-seven. I flew planes…well I could have…would have…I wanted to.” His eyes flashed as he spoke, the yearning for what might have been an ache in his voice. “I fill vendin’ machines with candy, day after day. Drive like the wind in that van, gun the engine, feel the motor rev, for what, for nothin’.”
Her anger at his earlier comments gone, Annabeth reached out her hand and clutched R.J.’s. He was lonely, terribly lonely, and unfulfilled. He drove so many miles all alone every week on his vending machine route when what he really wanted was to be with her. How many nights did he get to spend at home these days? One a week? Poor R.J.! “Oh, hon!” she said, her voice tender and loving and filled with compassion and understanding. “I can travel with you. Help you with the route. Be with you at night in the motels.” She smiled shyly, her eyes glowing with love, and she continued, “It will be our time together. Like a honeymoon, just you and me. And then you won’t be so lonely.” Expecting to see R.J. relax and smile, Annabeth gazed more deeply into his eyes, but the look of desperation was still there; in fact he looked cornered, like his head was about to explode, so she grew even more worried and clutched his hand more tightly. “It could be the best time of our marriage, romantic, and lots of time to talk. It could be wonderful,” she said softly.
“Don’t be silly, that’s nuts.” He walked into the house, not waiting for further discussion.
When they finally climbed into bed for the night, Annabeth slid over next to him, snuggling against his side and resting her palm gently against his cheek. They hadn’t made love in a long time. She paused for a moment to think about it. When was the last time? He was so rarely home…she had wanted to…when was that…he was tired that night…when was that? She leaned in closer and kissed him on the cheek, sliding her hand along his chest. Normally he would reach for her then…he used to reach for her first…hasty and passionate, but now she reached for him first more often, but that was all right, wasn’t it? R.J. twitched, like a shiver of discomfort, and he turned away from Annabeth, his back to her. Instead of turning over and letting him sleep she slid closer, spooning against him and kissing his back.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, “Will you let me sleep!”
Annabeth moved away from him then, back to her own side of the bed. He was obviously in a deep depression. This couldn’t be good. What could she do to fix things? He didn’t want sex, felt burdened by his daughter, was unhappy with his work. Poor R.J. He’d always needed excitement and when he’d said he was leaving his job as an airplane mechanic and starting that vending machine business Annabeth had been glad for him. R.J. yearned to travel and although driving from town to town all over the Florida panhandle on a route to fill vending machines wasn’t exactly the thrilling life he envisioned, it was far less restricting and probably much better for him. But what had gone wrong? He’d been on the road for twelve years now, home less and less often. That must be it. He needed to be home more. The girls were grown so they could cut back on expenses now. Maybe she could suggest that he slow down a bit? Spend more time at home, take up a hobby, find something that made him excited again. Yes! That’s what she would do tomorrow when he woke up. Feeling content that she had solved the problem and that R.J. would soon be happier, Annabeth drifted to sleep for a few hours.
She rose early, noting with satisfaction that R.J. still slept and she went downstairs to prepare his favorite breakfast. He would eat, then they would talk and things would get better. The cat, a gray short hair with a pink nose and green eyes that slanted often when he looked at her, waited in the kitchen. Annabeth scooped him up for a hug, saying “Good morning, Rogers, you snugglepuss,” then gently placed him on the floor, and fed him before proceeding. In a matter of moments she’d inserted a pan of perfect biscuits into the oven and had started frying the bacon that R.J. would eat with every meal if she let him.
R.J. walked into the kitchen, silently helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat at the table. He sighed once, took a deep breath, started to speak, then fell silent again.
“Morning!” said Annabeth cheerily. “Fried eggs and bacon. Hot biscuits. Your favorite jam.” She smiled at him, then began cracking eggs into the pan that still sizzled with bacon grease. She would let him eat first, then tell him her plan.
R.J. accepted the plate of food, and in his characteristic fast and ravenous fashion, gobbled the breakfast in a few huge bites. Annabeth had eaten only a quarter of what was on her own plate when he pushed his aside. “I gotta tell…I wanna make…I’m gonna.”
Annabeth smiled at him. “You need a change,” she said calmly.
“Yes!”
“You’ve been working so hard for so long,” she continued, when he interrupted her.
“I’m gonna move outta the house. Need to be on my own now. Need some time to myself.”
“What?” she exclaimed, unable to believe what he was saying.
“I wanna separation. I’m movin’ out today. Probably go stay at Mom’s apartment.”
The breath knocked out of her, Annabeth opened her lips to mouth the word what again, but she was unable to speak. He didn’t need more time at home with her; he wanted to go away from her. But how could this have happened? She reached her arm out to touch R.J., to calm herself and him, knowing there must be something she could say, something that would set
everything back to rights. “You’re going to live in our old apartment?” R.J. wanted to return to live in the garage apartment at his mother’s house, the place where they’d begun their marriage. “But why?”
“Told you why. Need some time alone.”
“So this is just temporary, like a little vacation?”
“Shit, Annabeth, I don’t know. I gotta get outta here. I’ll come back in a day or two for some stuff.”
She rose and followed him to the door, saying, “Wait R.J., don’t go.” But he ignored her and she watched him climb into his van and speed away. Her mind racing, Annabeth whispered, “I can’t just let him run out on me like that, I have to do something.” She walked back into the house, reaching for her purse and car keys then raced out the door and climbed into her car, an old hand-me-down from R.J. that had been giving her trouble for months. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine started, but stalled. “Start,” she commanded, glancing at the clock on the dashboard, which was broken, then at her watch. She had to talk to R.J., had to make him change his mind. Several times the car started, then stalled, once making a new kind of grinding sound that Annabeth didn’t recognize. “Finally!” The engine had turned over at last.
It was a small house, a cottage really, with a detached garage which had long ago been converted into an apartment that had been unoccupied for years. Not thinking it was right just to walk in the door as she normally would, Annabeth rang the bell and Mother Welner came to the door. She was a slight woman, not yet bent or even old, but she looked older than she was. Her gray hair was permed and set into a frozen swirl about her face. She pursed her lips when she saw Annabeth and did not reach out to offer a hug. Once they had been on good terms, but that was a long time ago, and Annabeth didn’t have the strength to think about that now. Instead she spoke as politely as possible, hoping to bypass her mother-in-law entirely. “Hello Mother Welner, I’d like to see R.J.”
Hungry for Love Page 20
