A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

  A far off expression came into her face. "It was while we were at Grand Coulee. The only place we could find to live was a little farmhouse, and I kept chickens and pigs as well as a milk cow." She smiled, as at some lovely memory. "Your mother was on the way then and Ward wasn't much more than a toddler. Tom was so busy working on the dam that we didn't have much time together, but what we did was grand."

  "Do you still miss him?" She had good memories of the grandfather who had died shortly after her marriage to Walter. Wrapped up in her new life, she had not given much thought to how Gran was taking her loss. How had she been able to survive losing a husband who had so obviously been the center of her existence?

  "Child, I'll always miss him. When Tom died, it was like a part of me went with him. But he would have wanted me to keep on living, and so I did. It was hard, at first, until I realized that I had to take myself in hand and find something to occupy my time and thoughts. Then I got involved with the Red Cross and the Library Guild, and each day got a little easier to get through."

  She had never before thought about the tragedies her grandmother had survived. Gran had always been generous, sharp-tongued but loving. When Annie was a small child, Gran and Gramps were still moving about to the dam construction projects where he was chief engineer. They came to Portland every year or so, always laden with exotic gifts. A few weeks, and then they would be off again, bound for some distant part of the world. Annie remembered Gramps as a tall, silent man who had always listened to her with intense concentration, but who had been somewhat intimidating--not like Grandpa Ogilvie who was a jolly, loving clown with his grandchildren.

  "That young man you were with yesterday--he seems a nice sort."

  "He is. I feel comfortable with him." She caught the gleam in her grandmother's eye. "Now look, Gran, don't start thinking those thoughts. I'm learning to fish from clay Knight--I'm not falling in love with him." Not in love maybe, but I sure like him a lot. And I want him. She ignored her treacherous thoughts. She wasn't ready to examine her feelings toward Clay.

  "Tomorrow we're leaving here and I'll probably never see him again." Even as she spoke, she knew that tomorrow was too soon to say goodbye to him.

  "I'm not thinking anything," Gran said, "except that you ought to invite him to dinner this evening. "

  "I was going to ask if I could."

  "Well, then there's something we agree on." The coffee pot gave a last burp and fell silent. "Here's the coffee, finally. The turkey's in the oven and everything else is done until about four. I was going to meet your mother and Louisa out in the Grove. Why don't you join us?"

  "I might. After my shower. See you later." She grabbed a half empty package of cookies. When Gran raised an eyebrow, she said. "Well, they were just sitting there in the cupboard. Somebody should eat them."

  "I brought them for the children, but with all the other goodies that were here, they were overlooked. Scoot, now! And don't forget to invite Mr. Knight to dinner."

  As Annie walked toward the Pink House, she thought, That's totally strange. Gran didn't say a word about my being out all night. Maybe she's finally realized I'm an adult.

  Hetty was stretched out in a chair in the living room when she came out, feeling fresh and awake after her shower. "Where's Frank?"

  "The men went hiking up to the ridge. A male bonding experience, I guess."

  "Either that or they're grilling him about his intentions."

  Hetty made a face. "After the last two days, I rather imagine that Frank's major intention is to get out of here as quickly as he can. You haven't heard the latest."

  A quick glance at the clock told Annie that Gran and the others were surely in the Grove by now. To her surprise, she wanted to join them. "Let's get some sodas and walk over to the Grove. Gran's there. You can tell me on the way."

  Hetty maneuvered herself to her feet with difficulty. When she was erect, she caught hold of a cane that was leaning against the chair. Her mouth tightened as she swayed for an instant.

  "Good grief! What happened to you?"

  "Mother's aim was better than I realized," she said. "Deep muscle bruising, possible bone bruise."

  "My God!"

  "Yeah, that's what I said, too. Let's go. It's going to take me a while."

  In a few terse sentences, Hetty told Annie what the ER doctor had said about deep muscle bruises. "So walking around San Francisco isn't in the cards. We haven't talked about it, but I imagine we'll fly back to Seattle tomorrow."

  "Fly? What about your car?"

  "I'll have to leave it here. There's no way I can drive it, not that far. And I can't believe Frank will want to be cooped up with me for a couple of days. Not after what he's gone through." She swatted a pinecone out of the path with the tip of her cane. "Damn it, Annie, I thought he might be the one. I could kill my mother!"

  Annie liked Frank, what little she'd seen of him. Hard to get to know someone when he's under the influence of painkillers. "So he blames you?"

  "Wouldn't you? Look, let's talk about something else. Did you enjoy yourself last night?" She did her best to leer, but the lines of pain around her mouth made it a poor attempt.

  Annie shrugged. "We talked. I started thinking about...started thinking and got emotional. He was a perfect gentleman. I'd rather not talk about that, either, if it's okay with you."

  "Did you invite him to dinner? Gran said she was going to tell you to."

  "Oh, no! I forgot. I was going to call him. I've got his cell phone number--" She dug into her pocket, knowing she'd transferred the slip of paper when she'd donned clean jeans. "Yes, here it is. Look, can you wait while I--"

  Hetty held out her own cell phone. "Call him."

  They traded, cell phone for the two sodas Annie held. She punched in the number, let it ring and ring. She was about to give up, when Clay answered. "Hi, this is Annie. Will you come to dinner tonight? Gran wants you."

  "Sure," he said, at last. "What time?" the words had that peculiar disjointed sound that meant he was in an area with poor coverage.

  "Seven. Bring an appetite."

  "So your fisherman's coming to dinner," Hetty said when Annie handed the phone back. "Does that mean it's serious?"

  Annie took several steps before answering. "I don't know. I think I'd like it to be, but I don't think I'm ready. Last night... Well, let's just say I wanted him to make love to me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to make love to him." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt the truth in them. She'd wanted him to take the decision out of her hands. If he'd pushed her, she would have cooperated. Instead, he'd been kind and understanding and patient.

  Damn him for being so noble.

  And thank goodness he had been. She knew with certainty that if they'd had sex last night, it would have been the only time.

  "I'm not sure it was a good idea to invite him. Somebody is sure to say something that will embarrass me--or him."

  "Oh, I don't know. They've been pretty easy on Frank. Besides, he looks like the sort who can hold his own, even in this bunch. Don't worry."

  Six women were gathered in a rough circle under the pines. Two old aluminum folding chairs sat empty, at opposite sides of the circle. One was between Gran and Aunt Louisa, one between Jennifer and Elaine. "I'll flip you for the one by Gran," Hetty muttered, while they were still far enough away to be unheard.

  "Since you're hurting, I'll be nice." She angled toward the left side of the circle, Hetty toward the right.

  "Annie, come here by me," Gran said. "I've an idea I'd like to discuss with you."

  Annie shot a quick glance at Hetty. "Play nice, now."

  "I will if she will." She hobbled to the chair between Jennifer and Elaine.

  Annie took the other empty chair. "You ought to be ashamed, Gran. The last thing Hetty needs today is a dose of Jennifer."

  "Hush! She'll hear you." Cecile could just imagine how Hetty and Jennifer irritated each other. Two more unlike women she'd never seen. "You're flushed. Are yo
u feeling all right?"

  "I forgot my sunscreen this morning, and I fell asleep in the sun."

  "You do know better, don't you?" Cecile said, examining the glowing pinkness of Annie's nose and cheeks. She was seeing something else, too, something that satisfied her. "Your color's better. When you got here, you looked pale and sickly."

  "I was, Gran. Inside and out. I think I'm better now."

  "It's about time." Her attention was caught by something Jennifer was saying. She cocked her ears but couldn't make it out. The trouble with getting old--one of the troubles with getting old--was that you couldn't eavesdrop worth a darn. She sent a mental order. Behave yourself, Hetty. "Well? Are you going to converse with me, Annie, or are you going to nap?"

  Annie started, blushed.

  The girl's in love, or very close to it. Good. Means she's healing.

  "I was just thinking... Why did I marry Walter, Gran?"

  "You're asking me? You should know better than anyone."

  "But I don't. I've been thinking about it the last couple of days. I can't remember what it was that attracted me to him. Even before he convinced me to stop working, I think I'd stopped loving him. But you know me." Her small laugh was a little bit rueful. "I hate to give up on anything. "

  Cecile thought back to the times she'd seen Annie and Walter at family get-togethers in Portland. He'd always seemed to be on the outside, and not particularly interested in looking in. As if he was uncomfortable with the often boisterous family he'd somehow married into. Or as if he'd disapproved of them. She'd had bad feelings then, but had said nothing. Mostly she managed to mind her own business, no matter how great the temptation to interfere with her children's and grandchildren's lives.

  "Gran?"

  "Wha-- Sorry, I was woolgathering. As for Walter, would you have listened if anyone had tried to tell you he wasn't the right man?"

  "I had a feeling you didn't like him, that you didn't think he was good enough for the noble Blankenship family."

  "Pooh! Nothing noble about us. Hard work and canny investing is what's brought us to where we are. Walter didn't see that, though. All he saw were the trappings of success. The ranches, Ward's firm, your father's business."

  She held up her hands when Annie seemed about to interrupt. "I don't mean he married you for your family's money. He's not a bad man. But I do think the Families' outward appearance of success made him see something in you that wasn't ever there.

  "To make matters worse, you were in love and completely blind to his shortcomings. I knew--and I told your parents--that he would be a wealthy man some day. But he would always be poor in spirit. My reservations were because I could see that he lacked some quality that would have made him the husband you need. Walter Abbott is one of the most completely self-centered people I have ever met. I don't think there's an ounce of empathy in him."

  "Even more self-centered than Aunt Frances?" As soon as she said it, Annie clapped her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  "Why not? It's the truth. And that reminds me. Have you seen Serhilda this afternoon?"

  "She was asleep in the other bunkroom. I didn't want to wake her. Why?"

  "Just curious. I hadn't seen her since breakfast. What do you think of her?"

  "Once I got past the body piercings and the bizarre clothes, I liked her. Poor kid. I can't believe what kind of life she must have had, growing up without a mother."

  "Do you think she would have been better off with Frances?"

  "Good heavens, no. From what she said, this Les was a good father to her. But still--"

  Cecile nodded in satisfaction. "There comes a time in a girl's life when she needs a mother."

  "Absolutely." Annie bit her lip, then smiled, although tears pooled. "I'm so lucky. I had Mom and I had you. Did I ever say thanks?"

  Cecile reached over and took her hand. "There's no need. It's all part of the job." She had to blink her own stinging eyes.

  She gave herself a moment to calm, then said, "You know, Annie, I always wondered why you let Walter convince you to give up your job. You had a promising career. Couldn't you have taken a leave of absence, or worked part time after Calvin was old enough to put into a good daycare?"

  "I loved being a stay-at-home mom. I really did. What I hated was the social stuff. Once I was at home all the time, he wanted me to entertain. Elegantly." She made a little moue of distaste. "Would you believe I even signed up for a class in napkin folding."

  Cecile couldn't contain her laughter. "You didn't!"

  "Oh, yes, I did. I should show you. I do a perfectly elegant Lady Windemere's Fan. And my Cockscomb is trés elegante." Her smile faded and she fell silent, staring into the distance. "Why did I do that? I'd never envisioned a life like that for myself."

  "Sometimes we slide into patterns without realizing it." Cecile hesitated, reached once again for Annie's hand. "May I be frank?"

  "Sure." Annie's voice had gone flat, with the earlier humor gone.

  Here goes nothing. "When you remained devastated for so long after Calvin's death, I feared you'd never recover."

  "He was my child. Do you ever recover?"

  "The Annie Ogilvie of years past would have, as your grandfather liked to say, grabbed her bootstraps and gone on. You gave yourself up to grief and sat around waiting to die."

  "How did you... Oh, Gran, you're right. I did. I felt so guilty and so lost. I even resented all the support the family gave me."

  "Aside from the natural guilt any mother would feel at the accidental death of her child, what had you to feel guilty about?"

  Annie buried her face in her hands. Haltingly, with many long silences, she confessed.

  * * * *

  After she sat down between them, both Elaine and Jennifer ignored her. Hetty could understand Jennifer's behavior. "Elaine," she said, after a good five minute's silence, "have I done something to offend you?"

  They'd never become fast friends as children. At Gatherings, Annie and Evan had followed Hetty everywhere, and she'd enjoyed their company despite the wide spread of their ages. Elaine had been more interested in playing with her dolls than in hiking and horseback riding, and Eric had even then been something of a dork. Hetty had missed several Gatherings while she was in college, and then Elaine had gone East to college, where she'd met and married Stewart. This was only their second trip west together.

  "No, nothing. I'm just--" Abruptly Elaine stood and walked away.

  Hetty looked over at Jennifer. "Obviously I walked into the middle of something. Care to enlighten me?"

  Jennifer leaned down to pick up the tote bag at her feet. "It really isn't any of your business. Excuse me."

  Hetty grabbed her arm before she could leave. "No you don't. I've had my fill of your holier-than-thou attitude this week. In this family, we air our differences, we don't let them fester. Now tell me what's going on between you and Elaine."

  Jennifer set her chin, glared at Hetty.

  Hetty glared back. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me."

  "Mother Armstrong--"

  "Aunt Louisa will not come to your rescue. Haven't you caught on yet that she stays out of family feuds?"

  "Oh, all right." Hetty had never seen anyone flounce before, especially not sitting down. "It's Evan."

  A sick, sinking sensation filled Hetty's middle. "What about Evan?"

  "Something Elaine said. And then she denied it. But I know. I know it's true."

  "God damn it, Jennifer. What about Evan?"

  "Don't you swear at me!"

  Hetty held her down, or she would have leapt to her feet and run away. "I'll say anything I damn well please to you. Now, what about Evan? Tell me!"

  "He's..." She looked all around. Lowered her voice to the barest whisper. "I think he's queer!"

  Hetty laughed, hoping it sounded genuinely amused. "Is that all? I thought it was something serious."

  * * * *

  "Need some help?"

  CeCe
looked up, but she already knew who was there. Owen had just a little bit of a southern accent, which she found really strange, since he'd told her he'd been born and raised in Columbus, Ohio. She almost refused, then changed her mind. Once he'd accepted that she really was serious about her cycling, they'd gotten along pretty well. "You can hand me stuff, if you want." She gestured toward the toolkit, unrolled on the grass beside her bike.

  He picked up her Allen wrench set and inspected it. "I've never known a bicycle racer before." With one finger, he eased the biggest wrench out and wiggled it back and forth. "What's this for?"

  "Adjusting stuff, mostly. Handlebar height, brakes, you know." She unscrewed the pedal and dropped it into a heavy-duty plastic bag. "You want to move so I can turn this over?"

  He duck-walked out of her way. "I can't imagine Char knowing which end of a wrench to take hold of."

  When she had the other pedal off and stowed, she handed him the bag. " There's a piece of Styrofoam that this fits into. It should be right at the end. Can you pull it out?"

  He did, and was impressed with how the pedals just sat into the plastic foam. Interested now, he upended the big box. Four more pieces of foam fell out, along with a humongous plastic bag. "What's this for?"

  "To wrap the bike in. At least it was. It's not important for this one. A few more scratches and dust won't hurt it." She heard the little tremor of self-pity in her voice, and took a deep breath to get it under control. My beautiful bike. I could wring that little brat's neck.

  Eric and Hetty's dad were going to replace it, but that would take weeks. The Bridgestone just wasn't up to what she needed and she knew there wasn't a bike in Denver that would fit her right. If only her arms and torso were a little bit longer. I'll do all right in the Criterium, but I wanted to win. Damn it, I wanted to win.

  Owen stuck around until she had her bike packed. He followed her into the cookshack and waited while she washed her hands. "You want to go for a walk?" he said, when she came out of the bathroom.

  "Sure. Where to?"

  "It's only four. We've got time to walk into to town and get an ice cream cone."

  "That sounds great. I'll tell Gran."

  "Don't." He caught her wrist. "She'll tell you not to spoil your dinner."