A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

  He lurched up right. "What?"

  All she could think to say was, "May I have some water?"

  He picked up the empty glass from the coffee table and carried it to the kitchen. In a moment he was back, kneeling beside her. "Do you need help sitting?"

  "No, I can manage." She pushed herself upright, scooted back so the sofa's arm supported her.

  He ignored her reaching hands and held the glass so she could sip from it. "What the hell did you take to knock you out like that?"

  "Antihistamine." Again she looked for the tissue box. There it was, under the coffee table. "Hand me a tissue, would you?" She blew her nose, dropped the soiled tissue into the fused-glass bowl on the table. "It always hits me like that. But at least I can breathe when I take it." She snatched another tissue and held it to her nose. "Sorry. Can't help it."

  Frank set the glass on the coffee table and went to sit beside her feet at the other end of the sofa. "When you didn't answer your door, I got scared. I was parked across the street, waiting until you'd had a chance to change your clothes." His big hand wrapped around her calf, squeezed. "You scared the shit out of me, Het, when you didn't answer the door."

  She knew she'd locked the door behind her. "How did you get in?"

  "I remembered you telling me you left a key with your neighbor, so she could keep an eye on the place when you're out of town. I convinced her you might need help."

  Hetty couldn't decide whether to be touched at his solicitude or mad as hell. What business of his was it if she-- "Why are you here, Frank? I got the feeling you never wanted to see me again."

  He swiped a hand across his mouth. She heard the rasp of his whiskers against the hard callus of his palm. "I was pissed. A lot of stuff seemed to be wrong for us. You really didn't want to show me off to your family--" he held up a hand when she would have argued. "Hey, I'm no rocket scientist, but I can tell when I'm being kept a big secret. You kept saying I wouldn't like your folks, that they weren't my kind of people, and I read it that you thought I wasn't their kind."

  "Oh, no. You're such a good man. I was afraid you wouldn't like them."

  "Can't say I do, not your mother, anyhow, but they're not your fault. The way you're always flying off somewhere glamorous sort of got to me, too. I'm not much for travel, y'know. And when I do, I'd want to see the U.S. first. There's a lot to see without ever leaving home."

  "There is, indeed," she agreed. So many places in this country she'd never seen, because her job was leading tours to exotic foreign locales. "Do you know I've never seen the Grand Canyon?"

  "Me, neither. So when do you want to go?"

  Hetty's heart did a somersault. "Frank?"

  Once again he went to his knees beside the sofa. This time it was to puller her close. "Hetty, this last couple of months has been pure hell. I've missed you, missed you a lot. Can we give it another try?"

  When he leaned to kiss her, she held up a hand. "Don't come any closer. You definitely do not want this cold." Patting the place he'd been sitting, she said, "I've missed you too. Oh, shit!" She snatched another tissue, barely got her mouth covered when the sneeze took her. Another and another, until she lost count. The tissue was in tatters, the elbow of her sweatshirt soaked. And the tissue box was empty.

  " You may not want to have anything to do with me if you catch this cold."

  "Yeah, I will. Where are your pills?"

  "My pills?"

  "Yeah. I want to dose you up good so I can get a good night's sleep. We can talk about the rest of our lives tomorrow."

  Hetty was so stunned that she let him help her to the bathroom, pour another glass of water down her, and poke an antihistamine into her without protest.

  The rest of our lives? I must be hallucinating again.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  "Eric, your mother has invited us for Christmas again. I thought you said--"

  Eric lowered the newspaper and peered over it. "I said we wouldn't go to any more Gatherings." His mouth worked, as if he were testing his words before he spoke them. "We went to your folks' last Christmas, and we're going to have them here for Thanksgiving. I think--"

  "Those children will be there. Your cousin's. CeCe and that terrible little boy. Tommy."

  He'd raised the paper, so she couldn't see his expression. It did dip a little, but then he raised it more. "Oh? That's right. Pa did tell me they're planning to take Marcia's kids in. Stephen isn't making much of a home for them. Always on the road."

  Sometimes she could just scream. He knew she didn't want the boys exposed to Tommy. He was such a little monster. Totally undisciplined. And such a smart mouth. For a month after they'd come home from the family Gathering, Norman had sassed her back at least once a day. He'd even sounded like Tommy sometimes. "Eric, I really don't want to go to your folks' while those children are there. Can we--"

  "No." This time he didn't even wiggle the paper. "Jennifer, they're my parents. I love them, even if they do make me crazy sometimes. And Evan's in Africa, so you don't need to worry about him."

  "Well, that's a relief. To think they'd let him be around all the little boys."

  Eric crushed the newspaper between his big hands. "Jennifer, Evan is my brother. I don't like how he's living his life, and I'm not comfortable around him. But he is still my brother. He's no pedophile. Our sons would be as safe with him as they are with your brothers."

  "But...but..."

  "But nothing. I over-reacted last summer, and I've regretted it ever since. I'll still keep my promise. We won't go to a family function if Evan's going to be there, because I promised you we wouldn't. But if he comes to town, or if I have a chance to see him some other way, I will."

  She knew Eric well enough to know when she could argue with him and when she couldn't. "As you wish. Will you tell your folks we'll be there for Christmas, or shall I?"

  "I will." The paper came up, and she felt like it was a wall he was building between them.

  * * * *

  "I won't get in your way, you know. I mean, when you and Clay want to get it on, I'll get lost. I'm not totally clueless."

  Annie stared across the table at Hildy. "You think--" she took a deep breath. "Hildy, I am not going to the ranch so I can have an affair with Clay Knight. I'm going there because Gran asked me to. Ever since the fire she's been worried about no one being there to keep an eye on things. If Charlie hadn't gone up to make sure the houses were all locked up, we might have lost them all. She doesn't want to ask him to stay all winter. He's getting old."

  "Yeah, right. But you're gonna see him, aren't you? Last summer you two were so hot for each other it was funny."

  "Yes, I'll see him." Annie remembered what Clay had said in his most recent letter.

  Before you left, I'd started to wonder if we might have a future. I kept telling myself it was the wrong time, that I already had too many balls in the air, but I still hoped. I wish I could get away. Maybe after winter sets in. We need time together.

  Common sense warned her to distrust the idea of love at first sight. One of the many counselors she'd talked to had warned her about falling for the first man who came along. "Its easy to look for a substitute," she'd said, "so you need to be sure that's not what you're doing. Don't rush into any relationship."

  "Clay is not the issue here, Hildy. What makes you think you and I can live together in any reasonable harmony?"

  "Hey, I can get along with anybody." Hildy said, folding her hands together in an attitude of prayer. "I lived with Frances for nearly a year, didn't I?"

  "If I'm supposed to see a halo, you need to work a little harder." She waited while the waitress replenished their coffee. "I don't even know what the school situation is up there. And speaking of, did you go to school while you were in L.A.?"

  "Huh-uh."

  Annie imagined little yellow feathers in the corners of the girl's mouth. "And why not?"

  Her expression became, if possible, more angelic, an interesting contrast with the nose and ey
ebrow studs. "Nobody brought it up. Hell, Annie, I've only got one more year. I can do it anytime."

  "First rule." She held up a finger. "If you're going to live with me, you'll clean up your mouth."

  "Sure. What else?"

  "I haven't said I'll take you yet." She knew she was going to, but wanted the advantage of uncertainty for a little longer. "You know, Last Chance will be a major difference from what you're used to. Aside from the lack of a mall to hang out in--"

  "I never did. That's for dorks."

  "Let me finish. Aside from the lack of stores and theaters and whatever else you've always taken for granted, the people in Idaho are not like those in L.A. You've no idea how different it is to live in a small town, particularly in an area that's fairly conservative, both politically and socially." She looked pointedly at the streaks of red and lime green in Hildy's now-platinum hair, at the oversized t-shirt drooping off one bare shoulder. "I think you'll find that Levi's and turtlenecks with fleece vests are more the style than what you're wearing. Think you could handle that?"

  "Hey, I can adapt. So, when do we leave?"

  Annie gave up. she knew better than to beat her head against a brick wall. "Tomorrow. If you're going, I'll need to take care of some things." Like some sort of legal papers so she could enroll Hildy in school, give permission for medical care... What else? Gran would know. "Look, is there somewhere you'd like to go while I do some errands, make some phone calls?"

  Shortly they'd agreed that Annie would get a motel room where Hildy could zone out on TV. "I sort of got hooked on the soaps when I was in L.A.," she admitted.

  Once she was settled, Annie went to the lobby, where she punched out a familiar number on her phone. "Help!" she said, when her grandmother answered.

  * * * *

  "You look enormously satisfied," Ward told his mother when she'd hung up.

  "I am. This couldn't have turned out better if I'd planned it. Now if only Frank-- Never mind."

  "Ma, are you meddling again?"

  "Of course I am. Hetty is refusing to see how much that young man loves her." She reached for her walker, silently cursing the weakness that forced her to use it. The doctor said her ankle would probably get stronger with the proper exercise, but she wanted mobility now, not six months from now. "Come. We need to find those notes I made when we set up the guardianship. Annie needs to be able to enroll her in school and to get any necessary medical care."

  Once the appropriate papers had been faxed to Annie at the motel, Cecile suggested Ward stay for lunch. "I believe there's some oxtail soup left from last night."

  He followed her into the kitchen. "Hard to resist. Besides, I want to hear more about Frank. Have you talked to him?"

  "He was here last week, the day before Hildy arrived. Poor man. I don't know how many times he apologized for disturbing me on my bed of pain." She sat when Ward motioned her to do so, hating the fact that walking the length of her own home wore her out.

  While Ward put the soup on to warm, she watched him. At sixty, he was still a handsome, vital man. Without thinking, she asked a question she'd always bitten back. "Why didn't you remarry after Alice's death?"

  The lines in his cheek showed how his mouth had tightened. "Never found a woman like you, I guess."

  "Don't give me that. A woman like me would be the worst possible wife for you. We're too much alike."

  Ward set a lid on the pot with unnecessary force. "The truth? Pure, unreasoning fear, based on past experience." He kept his back to her.

  "That bad? I wondered, you know. I always thought there was something missing between you. Not passion, but something more basic. Trust, perhaps? Was she unfaithful?"

  "Probably. Not that I cared."

  "Oh, Ward--"

  His expression, when he turned to face her, was savage. "Drop it, Ma. It's old news, and not something I particularly care to discuss. Besides, by the time she died, I was too old to adapt to another woman. Too set in my ways."

  "I'm sorry. You're a good man, Ward. You deserved happiness."

  "Happiness doesn't hinge on being married. I've had a good life."

  She should have resisted temptation, but she simply could not. "And not a celibate one, I imagine."

  His cheeks went red. "God, Ma! I can't believe you said that."

  "Well, you don't have to tell me. It wasn't a question."

  "Thank you for that. Do you want crackers with your soup?"

  "No, there's some ciabatta in the breadbox. Let's have that." Once she had distributed the plates and silverware he handed her, she propped her chin on one hand and watched him as she sliced the bread. "Ward, I think instead of buying a smaller house, I want to go into one of those places where I'll be able to move into assisted living when it becomes necessary."

  He dropped the knife. "Ma! What haven't you told me?"

  "Don't worry, Aside from this confounded ankle, I'm fine. But the day is coming..." she paused, making sure there was no trace of self-pity in her voice. "The day is coming when I won't be able to do for myself. Marilyn Wicks moved into an apartment at the Apple Blossom Estates last spring and she is very happy. I visited her not too long ago. Her place is comfortable and quite roomy. They provide a bus to take residents on excursions, so when she decides to give up driving, she won't be housebound."

  Ward set the soup bowl on her plate and the breadboard in the middle of the table. Once he was seated across from her, he said, "You're serious, aren't you?"

  "Let's just say, I'm giving it serious thought as one of my options. Now, do you want me to tell you about Frank's visit or not?"

  His eyebrow went up and he stared at her for a moment. "Right. Frank. What did he have to say?"

  She tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it into the olive oil Ward had poured onto a saucer. "That he wants to marry Hetty, but isn't sure how to approach her. I told him that the cave-man approach might be best."

  Ward sputtered, then broke into a full-throated laugh. "As in he should toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to the nearest preacher?"

  "Not exactly, but close. I said if he was sure in his heart that she was the woman for him, he should not give her a chance to say no. You know Hetty. She'll want to look at all the sides of an issue. And likely as not, she'll end up convincing herself that it would be unfair to Frank to marry him. She's so concerned she'll turn out like Joss."

  "Not a chance. She's a Blankenship through and through. She's so much like Aunt Elizabeth it scares me."

  "That's what I told Frank, that if he could live with a woman who isn't bound by tradition, who does exactly as she chooses once she makes up her mind what she wants, and who needs a man who will love her in spite of her parents, then he should go after her with all the forces at his command."

  Ward finished his soup and sat back, relaxed. "I hope you told him that underneath the tough exterior, she's a pushover for romance," he said, with a chuckle.

  "Oh, I did, but I warned him that he'll have to get her attention first, before he gives her flowers and chocolate." She tapped her chin as she thought. "Perhaps he should sling her over his shoulder. That would certainly get her attention."

  "Ma, you are incorrigible."

  "Not at all. I just want the people I love to be happy."

  * * * *

  Tommy slammed the door behind him. "Dad got a letter," he called from the mud room.

  CeCe finished typing the paragraph. When she'd started researching this history report, she'd been really bummed. Then she got into the groove. Lots of cool stuff had happened in the Yellowstone area before it was a park. She'd read way more about it than she needed to. She was gonna ace it. "Who from?"

  "Uncle Ben"

  She turned around and looked at him, her breath tight in her chest. Aunt Louisa hadn't answered her email last week, but real letters usually got where they were going, didn't they? If they didn't answer soon, she just didn't know what she was going to do.

  Tommy was picking at the flap on the enve
lope he held.

  "Hey! Cut that out. Dad'll have a fit if you open it."

  He stopped, but his bottom lip was sticking out a mile. "It's about us. Why shouldn't we see what it says?"

  "'Cause mail's private." She eyed the envelope, wishing she had X-ray vision or something. Steam it open? No, that only works in the movies. Dan had an uncanny knack for catching her and Tommy at stuff they shouldn't do.

  She snatched it from him. "I'll put it on his desk." Dad was due in late tonight. He hadn't been home since just after school started. Sometimes she wondered if he'd come home at all if she and Tommy weren't here.

  Tommy plunked himself down in a chair and stretched his legs out. He'd grown a lot this past year, mostly from the waist down. He was now taller than her by a couple of inches. "It's probably really for me," he grumped. "I wrote a real letter. You only emailed."

  Since last summer, CeCe had learned to recognize signs of Tommy's loneliness. Once they'd seen what real families were like, she knew theirs wasn't even close. If only Mom hadn't died. Or if Dad had gotten married again.

  No, that wasn't such a good idea. Her best friend had a stepfather and he was awful. With her luck, she'd get a stepmother like Cinderella's.

  "Well, maybe Dad will let you read it when he's done. Go start your homework. I've got to finish this report tonight." She shouldn't have put it off. The weather had been so great though, warmer than usual. The best fall she could remember. Usually the last good rides had been in September, but the club had held something every weekend in October, including an impromptu Century.

  Her homework had suffered, and if Dad knew, he'd be royally pissed.

  She was looking for the right words to give her conclusion some punch when the incoming email bell rang like an old-fashioned cash register, a sound she got a kick out of. It was from OKO@blankenshipfamilies.com. Owen? Yes!

  Hey CC!

  everything's been crazy with changing schools and stuff. this one's way different from where I went last year.

  congratulations on winning a bronze in the Criterium, that's awesome :D i was telling one of the guys about you and he said those are really hard races. he's a cyclist, and is trying to talk me into riding with him. says 'I'm built for it' whatever that means. (???) i think i'd rather fence. can't you just see me in a long black cape, fighting off a villains and saving some pretty chick's life? ROTFLMAO :)