But there were also other dreams. Dreams where he turned away and strode into a room, closing the door behind him and leaving her on the outside. When that dream came Lindsay awoke with her heart banging against her chest, and it took several minutes before she could convince herself that it was only a dream.
Mixed in with all her happiness Lindsay held on to a tiny grain of doubt, a whisper of jealousy that reared its head whenever Barbara breezed by to spend the day with Matthew behind a closed door. Lindsay knew Barbara stood next to him just as she did, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times their hands touched. When Barbara brushed against his shoulder, did she feel the same magic Lindsay felt or was it simply a jostle, a meaningless collision of bodies? On Thursdays when she sat alone at the reception desk, thoughts of Phillip returned and picked at her brain. She hadn’t suspected Phillip was cheating on her, and yet… Her thoughts continued to meander back to the day when the truth of Phillip surfaced. It came like the blast of a shotgun, quick, hard and with a near deadly force. Would it be the same with Matthew?
~ ~ ~
I know you’re thinking Lindsay is a foolish girl, but please realize these small bursts of doubt and jealousy are simply part of the mating dance. I assure you this situation will resolve itself—and, I might add, without any help from me.
~ ~ ~
On the second Thursday in November Barbara showed up forty-five minutes later than usual, and she didn’t barrel through the door to head for the back room. Instead she slogged into the reception room with tears running down her cheeks and a stream of muddy water dripping from her clothes.
“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked.
Barbara shook her head and continued to cry.
“What’s the matter?”
“My car…”
“Did you have an accident?”
Barbara shook her head a second time.
Lindsay found it virtually impossible to be envious of someone sobbing as Barbara was. She came from behind the reception desk and took the broken umbrella from the girl’s hands.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to get you dried off.” She pushed Barbara toward the washroom. “Get cleaned up,” she instructed. “I’ll find you something to wear.”
When Lindsay returned she had a set of blue scrubs that belonged to Matthew. “Put these on. The pants are gonna be way too long, but just roll them up.”
Barbara did as she was told and as she stood there looking like a dwarf in a giant’s clothing, Lindsay noticed something she’d failed to notice before: a gold band circled the third finger of Barbara’s left hand.
She gasped. “You’re married?”
Barbara, who by now had stopped sobbing and cleaned most of the mud off her face, nodded. Once calmed down, she explained how her car had died on Route 70 and she’d had to walk the last half-mile to the office. On the way three trucks and a Mercedes had rumbled through puddles and drenched her with mud.
“It was horrible,” she said with a moan. “I was petrified walking so close to the highway and the wind from the trucks…”
Lindsay listened to the story, then brought Barbara a cup of steaming chamomile tea.
“This will calm you,” she said and stirred in two heaping teaspoons of sugar.
That morning the tumor removal on an aging bulldog didn’t start until eleven-thirty and when the surgery room door was closed, Lindsay oddly enough had no thoughts of Phillip. In fact, she was so energized that she completed two weeks of billing and sent out twenty-three overdue vaccination notices.
A month after they’d begun dating, Lindsay asked Eleanor and her father if she could invite Matthew for Thanksgiving dinner.
“A wonderful idea,” John said. He gave her a wide grin and added, “It’s high time I got to know this young man.”
Eleanor agreed and suggested they also invite Ray and Traci. A few minutes later she added Matthew’s dad to the list. “With Gracie gone, he’s all alone,” she said.
“We probably should also include Lorraine and Frank,” John said.
That prompted Eleanor to remember Matthew had a great uncle who lived in Rochelle Park with his third wife, and the neighbors two doors down whose children lived some place in Idaho. When the list was complete they had thirteen names but then Eleanor added in the elderly bachelor at the end of the street and made it fourteen.
“Oh dear,” Eleanor said. “We’ve only got twelve place settings.” She eyed the list again, but by then she’d already convinced herself that every single person on the list had to be invited.
“It wouldn’t be right for someone to have to spend Thanksgiving all alone,” she said, and everyone agreed.
Since the Macy’s in Philadelphia stocked her dinnerware pattern, Eleanor declared the best solution was for her to drive in on Saturday morning and pick up a few extra place settings.
“I’ll go with you,” Lindsay said. “I’d like to get a new dress for Thanksgiving, and I really need another pair of jeans.” Once they decided to go together, both women came up with a lengthy list of things they could most likely use.
That evening Eleanor made several telephone calls to invite the dinner guests. The last call she made was to Ray. Traci answered the phone.
“Hi, Mom,” she said brightly.
Eleanor explained that she and John were having a special Thanksgiving dinner and wanted to include them.
“Mom, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Traci’s voice went lower and apprehension was threaded through every word. “Ray’s been in a bad mood lately, and the truth is he’s none too fond of John.” She tried to soften the sound of the words, but no matter how they were spoken they had the same ugliness stuck to them.
“Well, perhaps if I spoke to him…”
“Um,” she hesitated, then whispered, “I probably think it’s better if you don’t because…” Before she could finish the sentence, Ray’s voice blasted its way through the wire.
“What?” he snapped angrily. “You think my wife is gonna side with you? I’m not coming over there for another fiasco like Labor Day! If that’s what you’re thinking, think again!”
“But, Ray, I thought you—”
“You thought what?” he interrupted. “You’re not thinking, that’s the problem!”
“Why are you acting like—”
“Me? It’s not me, it’s you. You’re acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. For God’s sake, Mother, you’re fifty-four years old!”
“Just because I’m a bit older doesn’t mean—”
“You’re old enough to have some sense! You’re not stupid! You should know better than to get involved with some—”
“Wait a minute, Ray, this isn’t just an affair,” Eleanor said. “John and I are planning to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s what they all say. I see it on television every day.”
“You see what on television?”
“Stories about women like you. Women duped into letting some jerk take everything—”
“John is not like that—”
“You know what, Ma, I take it back—you are stupid! Stupid enough to let that jerk take advantage of you. If that’s what you want to do, fine! But don’t call me again until you come to your senses!” Ray slammed the receiver down with such force that it left Eleanor with a ringing in her ear.
~ ~ ~
This is the problem I told you about. Trust me, it will get much worse before it gets better. If it gets better. From where I stand right now, the future for Eleanor and John looks very bleak. That is, if they even have a future.
~ ~ ~
Lindsay was searching animal rescue sites on the computer in the den, but she’d heard the phone call. Although she couldn’t make out the words, she recognized the angry sound and knew it was Ray. When there was only silence, Lindsay got up and went into the kitchen. Eleanor was sitting alone.
“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked.
Eleanor looked up with tears rolling down her chee
ks.
Lindsay knew the answer.
“I don’t know what to do,” Eleanor said. “Ray is so angry. He doesn’t understand; he thinks your father is trying to take advantage…”
“Dad take advantage?” Lindsay contorted her face into a look of disbelief. “Never.”
“I know that,” Eleanor replied sadly. “But Ray…”
Lindsay sat alongside Eleanor and pulled her chair close. “Don’t worry,” she said, taking Eleanor’s hand in hers. “He’ll come around. When I first found out about you and Dad, I felt the same way but look at us now—we’re like best friends.” Lindsay still couldn’t bring herself to say like mother and daughter; perhaps one day she might, but not yet.
“Ray’s a lot different than you. Once he gets a grudge in his heart, he’s not about to part with it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him as angry…”
“He won’t be angry forever. Wait and see. I’ll bet he calls tomorrow morning and apologizes for acting that way.”
Eleanor shrugged, but there was a serious look of doubt stretched across her face.
Cupid
The Last Word
I’d like to be able to tell you what’s going to happen, but regretfully I can’t. Even I have blind spots, and right now the only thing I can see in either Eleanor or Lindsay’s future is a gigantic black hole. That scares me. A black hole is not good. It generally means Life Management is up to something, something they want to keep hidden. Like humans the world over, I want to believe love conquers all. Sometimes it does; sometimes it doesn’t. Look at the Mark Antony and Cleopatra fiasco, tragedy all the way around. If Cleo had been genuinely in love, she could have spared Mark Antony the sword and avoided the asp incident, but of course that’s history.
Right now the best I can hope for is to muster up enough love power to break through this black hole I’m seeing and avoid whatever mishaps Life Management has planned.
~ ~ ~
I knew Eleanor thought Ray would call back once he’d simmered down, but after three days had passed without a word she began to have doubts. On Friday evening she called his house and left a message.
“We’re looking forward to seeing you and Traci next Thursday,” she said, sounding optimistic. “I’ve ordered a twenty-two pound turkey so there will be plenty of white meat, I know you don’t—” A shrill beep cut into her words and the mechanical voice said, “End of message.”
“It’s not the end of—” Eleanor stopped mid-sentence because by then all she had was a dial tone. She dialed the number a second time and tried to speak faster.
“The machine cut me off before I could finish,” she said, “but call me back, I’ve got something important to tell you.”
Although she’d left that message, I knew what Eleanor wanted was the opportunity to tell Ray what she had to say in person. To her, a telephone call seemed so impersonal. Family things, she felt, deserved a face-to-face discussion, a discussion that would enable warring parties to work things out. Eleanor had deliberately tried to keep her tone light and cheerful in the hope that Ray would consider their earlier conversation forgotten or forgiven, which I must admit sounded pretty good to me as well.
At nine o’clock that evening John suggested they take a ride over to Friendly’s for an ice cream sundae, but Eleanor shook her head.
“Let’s not,” she said. “I’m expecting Ray to call.”
John smiled. “Did you tell him yet?”
“I haven’t had the chance,” she answered.
“Are you going to tell him when he calls?”
“I don’t know…” she said. “I may have to.”
Eleanor sat at the kitchen table and waited for the telephone to ring. Her message had said it was important, so she was sure he’d call. Seven o’clock turned into eight and then nine, but there was no ring; there was only a silent telephone and the far off sound of the living room television. She waited until almost midnight, then snapped the light off and went up to bed.
“I guess he didn’t get my message,” she said.
On Saturday morning before she turned the coffee pot to brew, Eleanor called and left another message.
“Ray, honey,” she said, “I’ve got something important to tell you, so call me back. Oh, and by the way, on Thursday we’re planning to have dinner at about four o’clock. Let me know if that’s okay for you and Traci.” She reluctantly set the receiver back in its cradle. Even if he was still feeling perturbed he’d at least call, she rationalized. I said it was important. What if I was sick? What if…
It was the first question John asked when he sat down at the breakfast table. “Did you hear from Ray yet?”
Eleanor shook her head. “They’re late sleepers. I doubt he’s listened to the messages.”
Somewhere deep inside her heart, in the place where people hide the ugliest truths of those they love, Eleanor knew such was not the case. Ray was someone who pocketed his anger and held on to it until it was threadbare. She knew that the probability was she would have to give him the news over the telephone.
Eleanor did what she’d done a thousand times before, what her mother and grandmother had done: she hid her feelings in a flurry of activity. If she moved fast enough, talked enough, smiled enough, maybe, just maybe, the heartache couldn’t catch up. She turned to the stove and poured three rounds of pancake batter onto the griddle.
Lindsay caught the look on Eleanor’s face as she turned. John did not.
“Lindsay,” he said, “I’m going to the Renegades football game this afternoon. It’s the last home game of the season. Do you want to join me?”
“No thanks, Dad. Eleanor and I are going shopping together.”
“You can go with your dad if you want,” Eleanor volunteered. “I don’t mind going to Macy’s by myself.”
Lindsay laughed. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m really looking forward to this shopping trip. Dad and I can go to a football game anytime.”
“No, we can’t,” John said. “This is the last home game of the season.” But by then Lindsay had moved on to talking about a pair of shoes she’d seen online.
After John left the table, Eleanor turned to Lindsay. “Maybe you should go with your dad. Ray hasn’t called yet. I think I’d better stay here and wait for his call.”
“You don’t have to be at home to get the call,” Lindsay said. “I can just program the house phone and have it redirect all the calls to my cell.”
“Will the caller know they’re being sent to your phone?”
Lindsay shook her head. “Nope. The house phone will ring once, then pause for a second and start ringing on my cell.”
“Good,” Eleanor said. She didn’t mention that if Ray heard such a message he’d more than likely hang up. He’d already made numerous comments about her favoring Lindsay over Traci. At the time she’d tried not to give credence to such comments, but Ray hammered them home every chance he got. The last time he’d said it, Eleanor suggested that she had to be nice since Lindsay was John’s daughter.
“Precisely!” Ray had replied with icicles hanging off of every syllable.
At a few minutes after eleven, Lindsay parked the car on Fifteenth Street and they started walking toward Market. As they passed the shops, they saw window after window filled with festive red dresses, sparkling jewelry and Christmas trees.
“So soon?” Eleanor said. “The stores are ready for Christmas, and it’s not even Thanksgiving.” She didn’t say it, but I knew what she was thinking. Eleanor was wishing the days would slow down. To her mind, time was the great healer. It bridged the gap in friendships, brought new loves and erased old angers. If given enough time, she believed, anything might be possible.
When they passed by the Hallmark store Lindsay grabbed Eleanor by the hand and pulled her into the shop. They walked in and out of the aisles looking at trees decorated in a dozen different themes: nutcrackers, teddy bears, ballerinas, gold trees with glittery bows, silver trees with shiny globes, even what w
as supposed to be a natural tree hung with plastic pine cones and silk magnolia blossoms.
Lindsay stopped in front of the angel tree. “This is my absolute favorite.”
“Mine too,” Eleanor replied. The two of them spent more than an hour in the store, and when they finally left Eleanor had purchased a box of Christmas cards, two hand-painted ornaments and four glittery angels.
The next stop was Macy’s. They started in the china department and once they’d purchased the two place settings they came for, they moved on to dresses and sportswear. I could see there were moments when Eleanor allowed herself to get caught up in the excitement of the season, times when she could forget about the call she was both anticipating and dreading, times when she could think only of the sweater she slipped over her head or the pants that zipped without pinching, but trust me, those times were few.
It was almost four o’clock when Eleanor could hold it in no longer. “I’m worried that Ray hasn’t called,” she told Lindsay.
“Call him again,” Lindsay suggested and handed her the cell phone.
Eleanor punched in the number and waited. The telephone rang six times, and then the answering machine clicked on. She’d already left a number of messages and had nothing more to add to what she’d said previously, so she pressed End and handed the phone back to Lindsay.
“No answer,” she lied. “I guess they’re out.”
When they left the store at five-thirty, darkness was already settling into the sky. Lindsay glanced at her watch.
“We’d better hurry,” she said. “Matthew is picking me up at seven.”
They were standing on the corner of Market and Fifteenth when the phone in Lindsay’s pocket jangled. She switched the shopping bag to her left hand, pulled the phone from her pocket and said, “Hi.” She expected the caller to be Matthew.
“Who’s this?” the voice asked.
Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3 Page 13
