Still Waters

by Misha Crews

  Jenna gave her friend a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “Stella, please. Adam is like a brother to me.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I’ve got news for you, sweetie. I have a brother — two, in fact — and neither of them ever looked at me the way I saw Adam looking at you at the birthday party other day. He’s stuck on you. And you’re a little stuck on him, too, unless I miss my guess.”

  Jenna’s expression turned nearly vicious. “Adam was my husband’s best friend, Stella. What you’re saying is not only absurd, it’s insulting.”

  Stella looked back at her, unfazed. She was used to Jenna’s moods. Her gaze became sympathetic. “You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?”

  Jenna began gathering up her gardening tools. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Now or ever. I’m marrying Frank, in case you hadn’t heard.”

  “Uh-huh,” Stella said again. “And when is that blessed event to take place, exactly?”

  Ooh. That was a sore subject, and Stella knew it. Jenna got to her feet without a word and pulled off her gardening gloves.

  She opened her mouth to call Christopher, but instead she gave a soft little, “Oh.”

  Stella turned to see what had caught Jenna’s attention, but she could see nothing except a fuzzy gray squirrel hopping gracefully across the grass, which wasn’t exactly an odd sight. Then Stella realized that Christopher was also watching the squirrel. The little boy’s eyes lit up, and he turned his head, meeting his mother’s gaze excitedly.

  “That’s him,” Jenna said softly. “Go ahead.”

  Christopher raced up the back steps, pushing past the adults. “Excuse me, Aunt Stella,” he whispered hurriedly, before he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Stella looked at her friend questioningly. Jenna smiled slightly and shook her head. “Just watch,” she said.

  As soon as Christopher had started across the yard, the squirrel had followed him, its long furry body arching elegantly with each jump. Now he hopped up on the railing and stood on his hind legs, staring expectantly at the back door.

  When Christopher came out, the squirrel retreated to a safe distance. The little boy hunkered down, his arm extended in offering, and the squirrel went forward, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. He paused a few feet from Christopher, tail twitching. His black eyes glittered as he inched forward cautiously. He reached out one paw, with its perfectly-formed fingers covered in fine gray fuzz, and snatched the nut that Christopher was offering him.

  He hopped back up onto the railing and began to neatly devour his afternoon snack.

  Christopher watched, enchanted, then turned and beamed at Jenna. She returned his sunny smile with such love that Stella felt her own heart lurch.

  “So, what’s with feeding the tree rats?” Stella asked, covering her emotion with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

  “That squirrel’s been coming around for a while, and we’ve been giving him nuts and crackers and so forth. Last week he actually took one from my hand. Christopher adores him, as you can see, but he’s been afraid to feed the squirrel by himself — until today.”

  “Well, it seems that I’m witnessing a momentous occasion,” Stella said. “I’m honored.” And she was.

  Jenna reached out and squeezed her arm. Her eyes shone. “I’m thinking of taking Christopher to the Phillips Gallery in DC.”

  Stella laughed, assuming she was joking. Then she saw Jenna’s face. “You’re taking a five-year-old boy to an art museum?” She didn’t try to hide the derision in her voice. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

  “We’re going to see Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party,” Jenna said defensively. “Lucien took me when I was a child, and I loved it.”

  “Sweetie, I’m sure that was a very special day between you and your dad. But unless Renoir painted some cowboys into that picture, Christopher’s not going to give a squirrel’s furry patoot about it. He’ll be bored to death.”

  “I was going to take him to the park afterwards and buy him a hot dog.”

  “Well, now you’re thinking!”

  Jenna turned a cold look on her. “You know, I don’t really appreciate your constant criticism.”

  That caught Stella off guard. She hadn’t said anything particularly cutting, had she? She slipped an arm around Jenna’s waist, feeling her friend stiffen. “What? We’ve been friends for ten years, and I can’t give you a hug once in a while? Come on, this is my way of apologizing for my mouth. It has a life of its own, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  A small smile appeared on Jenna’s face. “Not only have I noticed, I usually like it. Usually.”

  “Point taken.” Stella withdrew her arm, glad to have the amity between them restored. Sometimes Jenna reminded her of a wild thing, like that squirrel. You might think it was your friend, but don’t try to pick it up and cuddle it, or it was likely to bite. She decided to press her luck. “And what about Adam?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jenna said. “Everything will work out.”

  But the look of forced cheer on her face wouldn’t have fooled anyone, least of all Stella.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT WAS NOT UNTIL WEEKS AFTER his return that Adam was finally able to have dinner with the Appletons. Bill had told him that Kitty was going to kill the fatted calf in honor of his visit, and when Adam turned on to Linden Street, he could’ve sworn that he already smelled her famous roast beef, simmering in gravy.

  The aroma took him right back to days of his childhood: Sunday dinners, riding bikes along these tiny back roads, flattening pennies on the railroad tracks. Oh, he’d had some good times on this street, and that was the truth.

  As he pulled up in front of the Appleton’s house, he let out a low whistle. Now here was a place that had not changed a bit. The road ended, curving into the dirt driveway that led up the green lawn and around to the back. The house was white and of a medium size, with a porch running along front and a bay window on the second floor. The screen door was painted dark green. Mismatched chairs lined the front porch, an unpretentious assortment that begged any visitor to sit and enjoy some friendly talk and a glass of lemonade.

  He drove up the driveway and parked his car under a tall oak tree — a tree whose branches his young feet had known well. He unfolded himself from his car and stretched. He reached back to pull up the top on his convertible, and by the time he turned around again, Bill was coming down the porch stairs, with a welcoming smile on his face and a hand held out to shake.

  “Adam,” he said fondly. “Glad you made it. How was traffic?”

  Adam looked Bill over as they went through the usual small talk of greeting. He took in Bill’s thinning brown hair, the extra lines along the forehead, and he felt a rush of affection for this man who had been like a father to him.

  “Why don’t you come on around back, and I’ll show you my new project,” Bill said.

  “Sounds good. I’ll just poke my head inside and say hello to Kitty.”

  Bill shook his head warningly. “She’s still in a cooking frenzy. Unless you miss the feeling of going into battle, you might want to leave her alone for the time being. She’ll call us when she’s ready.”

  “Is that really her roast beef I smell, or am I dreaming?”

  “You’re not dreaming, my boy. She’s whipping up a feast. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, tomato salad, and apple pie for dessert.”

  Adam grinned. “I guess I shouldn’t pretend that I already ate, should I?”

  “Not unless you feel like being skinned alive, roasted, and served with gravy.”

  They made their way around the back, past the vegetable garden and the flowerbeds to the small garage behind the house. Bill had always dreamed of building cars for a living, but his father had wanted him to be a doctor. Somehow, the compromise they had worked out resulted in neither party getting what they wanted. Bill had worked for the Department of Agriculture for thirty years. He had only recently retired, and the first thing he’d done was to build hi
mself a garage.

  “Too bad my dad isn’t alive to see this,” Bill said as he raised the door. He flashed Adam an impish smile. “I think the shock would kill him.”

  Inside the little structure was an ancient Model A Ford, up on blocks. The leather roof was cracked and torn, and the burgundy paint was chipped and faded. The hood was up, and the engine was in parts on the cement floor. Adam didn’t try to hide his wonderment. “Whoa,” he breathed. “Now that, my friend, is a thing of beauty.”

  “Isn’t it though?” Bill flipped a switch and turned on the overhead light. “Well, don’t just stand there, son. Stick your head under the hood and have a look. I’ll grab us a couple beers from inside.”

  But at the distinctive sound of the screen door banging open, the men turned toward the house. “Hey,” Bill said. “Look who it is.”

  Adam’s stomach dropped into his feet when he saw Christopher come hopping down the back stairs and across the yard. He forced a smile onto his face, but inside his heart was pounding. “Well, I’ll be.” He looked around. “I didn’t see Jenna’s car anywhere out front. Is she here?”

  “He stayed over here last night,” Bill explained. “Jenna’s going to pick him up after dinner.”

  The little boy was wearing coveralls, and his cowboy hat had been replaced by a baseball cap. When he saw Adam, a dazzling smile came over his face, and he waved excitedly. He stopped a few feet away. “You’re my Uncle Adam, aren’t you?” he questioned.

  Although Adam’s heart tore a little at the title, he had to laugh at Christopher’s bright, chirping voice. “Yeah, I guess that’s me,” he said genially.

  “You got me that baseball stuff for my birthday!”

  “That I did.”

  Bill spoke up. “He loves that baseball equipment. He brought it over here where there’s lots of room to whack the balls around. Plays with it all the time.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun with it,” Adam said. Then he added impulsively, “Would you like to hit a few balls before dinner?” He looked at Bill. “Do we have time?”

  “There’s always time for baseball,” Bill said agreeably.

  And so, late on that spring afternoon, Adam played baseball with his five-year-old son for the first time. They set up the game in the front yard, where there was room to run. Adam pitched, Christopher was at bat, and Bill dubbed himself the umpire. “I’m too old to go chasing balls all over the darn place,” he said. “You two young fellas will have to take care of that.”

  The air was soft and fragrant with the smell of the green grass. As the sun began to drop behind the trees, crickets made their first tentative chirps of the evening. Christopher was a diligent batter, swinging with all his might each time the ball came close to him. Adam coached him on holding the bat, wrapping his arms around his son and helping him swing while Bill threw a few balls their way. Each smile that Christopher gave him, each laugh that erupted from the little boy’s lips, touched Adam’s heart in a new and lovely way. By the time Kitty called them in for dinner, Adam realized that he was beginning to feel like a father. And damn if that didn’t feel good, in spite of the circumstances.

  * * *

  Discomfort sat sourly in the pit of Jenna’s stomach while she drove to the Appleton’s house. She and Frank had had an argument — or what passed for an argument. With the two of them, a quarrel was usually more of a “you state your opinion, I’ll state mine, and never the twain shall meet” affair. It always left her feeling vaguely unhappy and without a real sense of resolution.

  Over dinner, Frank had suggested that Christopher stay the night with his grandparents, so that Jenna and he could spend the night together, but Jenna had firmly negated the idea. Her biggest objection was that it violated what she called the Nine PM Rule, which meant that by nine o’clock at night, they usually went their separate ways. Sleepover nights were almost impossible, if only because there was no way she could allow Frank’s car to remain outside her house all night long. And she couldn’t spend the night at Frank’s apartment without informing Bill and Kitty first; otherwise they wouldn’t know how to reach her if there was an emergency. It seemed that there was no end of complicated machinations involved.

  “Well, then,” Frank had said. “We should just get married.”

  That statement had left her speechless, and not in a good way. She loved Frank; she enjoyed having him in her life. But….

  But. B-U-T. There were always those three little letters. Although she couldn’t ever seem to put a finger on what came after them, wasn’t their very existence an indication that there was something that she wasn’t quite willing to face?

  She went left on Lee Street and made her way to the end of the road. As she turned off the street and into the Appleton’s driveway, the wide arch of her headlights caught a strange car parked under an oak tree, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Adam was there.

  Jenna hadn’t seen Adam since Christopher’s birthday party. In spite of the fact that she had told both herself and Stella that she had no strong feelings for Adam, she had to admit that she’d spent an inordinate amount of time dreading the moment when they would see each other again. And she didn’t relish the idea of meeting him in front of others, even if those others were her family.

  Her first impulse, much to her shame, was simply to run. She told herself that she could drive to a phone booth, call Kitty, and say that she would come get Christopher tomorrow. Kitty wouldn’t object, especially given the late hour.

  As appealing as that idea may have been, it was so cowardly that she would never actually do it. Lucien would have been ashamed of her for even thinking about it, and Bud would have laughed himself silly at the thought of her running away. “The word ‘retreat’ just isn’t in your vocabulary,” he would have said. Besides, running away would have defeated the other reason that she didn’t want Frank to spend the night: she missed her son when he was away, and she wanted him home. With her.

  She got out of the car.

  On the porch, Jenna eased the screen door open and then closed again, trying to keep it from making a racket. From the doorway, she could see Adam sitting on the sofa with Bill, watching the news. Kitty was in the rocking chair, and Christopher was asleep on the braided rug, with an afghan over him for warmth. Jenna couldn’t be sure, but she thought that maybe he was clasping a baseball glove between his little hands.

  At the sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor of the hallway, three heads swiveled toward her. She watched Adam’s eyes widen when he saw her. He smiled uncertainly.

  “Jenna,” Kitty said sleepily. “I’m so glad you’re here, sweetheart. I was getting worried about you.”

  “Sorry I’m so late,” she said. “Time just got away from me.” She smiled at them, including Adam in the expression with the hope he would understand that she wanted to be friendly.

  Kitty stood up. “Well, honey, it’s too late for you to head back tonight. You’ll have to bunk here with us. You too, Adam. Bill, why don’t you take Christopher upstairs to the guest room? Adam can sleep on the sofa and — ”

  “No,” Jenna said quickly. Stay here tonight, with Adam in the house? It would be unbearable. She groped for the fastest way to extricate herself from the situation. Kitty was already looking hurt. “What I mean is, I’m not the least bit tired, so I don’t mind driving back. Besides, there’s no one to watch Fritz if we’re gone all night.”

  “Oh, well, Stella can keep an eye on him, can’t she? They live right across the street after all.” Kitty smiled firmly. “I know you wouldn’t want Bill to be losing sleep while you and Christopher drive all the way back to Arlington by yourselves, with all those miles of dark, deserted road between here and your house. He does worry so about you, you know.”

  Jenna spared a glance at Bill, who stood half in the shadow of the hallway. His face was as unreadable as a carving on a totem pole. It was impossible to tell whether Kitty was speaking of his inclination to worry or her own. And
it was equally impossible for Jenna to imagine putting either of them through any anxiety if she could avoid it. “All right,” Jenna said. She crossed the hallway to pick up the phone and dialed Stella’s number.

  Kitty, having neatly disposed of one problem, turned to Adam. “You’ll stay, too, won’t you?” But it wasn’t really a question.

  Just as Stella picked up on the other end of the line, Jenna heard Adam answer, “Of course.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  STELLA WAS A PAL, AS ALWAYS. “It’s no problem. I’ll feed Fritz tonight and let him out for a little romp before bed. Rose can go back over first thing in the morning. Knowing her, she’ll spend some time playing with him, too, which will be good for both of them.”

  “Thanks, Stella. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “Like I said, it’s really no problem.” Stella paused. “After all, we don’t want Bill and Kitty to worry about you driving home tonight, do we?”

  “No, we don’t,” Jenna said, grateful as always that Stella grasped the situation so quickly.

  “Well, then. That’s that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow. And thanks again.”

  After Stella had brushed off Jenna’s gratitude, she hung up the phone. Jenna stood still for a moment, realizing that she was alone in the hallway. Kitty’s voice murmured in the kitchen, with Bill’s rumbling baritone occasionally breaking through. Jenna couldn’t tell where Adam was — maybe out on the porch or sitting silent in the kitchen.

  She took advantage of her solitude to study the house from where she stood. How well she remembered this long hallway, with its steep staircase, scuffed wood floor, and dented paint. Jenna had always been fearful that Kitty would have the place redecorated — floors buffed and walls sanded. But to polish this house would be to lose all the beauty it had acquired through the years.