The Day Bob Greeley Died

by Kimberly A Bettes

  Had anyone else said that to Miriam, she would’ve flown off the handle. But it was Bruce, her husband of nine years, the man she loved with all of her heart. She knew he meant well. She also knew — though she would never admit it to him — that he was probably right. There was no doubt that Bob Greeley was a horrible man who treated his wife as no wife should be treated, but maybe the heat was making her more emotional about it than she should’ve been.

  After all, even though she felt she had an obligation to help Grace, it really wasn’t any of her business. She hadn’t married Bob Greeley; Grace had. She didn’t have to put up with his philandering ways; Grace did. He wasn’t hitting her; he was hitting Grace.

  The thought of Bob hitting Grace brought about the image, and instinctively, Miriam’s fists clenched. She sure wanted to show that Bob Greeley a thing or two.

  She looked at Bruce, who was clearly concerned about her.

  “You know, I think I will go over there and cool down. I don’t want the kids to see me this way.”

  “There you go,” Bruce said, kissing her once more on the forehead. “Sit at the counter and have a cold Coke. Keep Frank company. Tell him I said hello.”

  As Bruce opened the door of the car for her, Miriam said, “I won’t be long.”

  “Stay as long as you like.”

  Once she was seated inside the car and Bruce had closed the door, she asked, “How’s your leg?”

  “Same as always,” he replied.

  After starting the car, Miriam paused. She looked out the window at Bruce. “I love you.”

  He smiled. “I love you too.”

  Miriam pulled out of the driveway and drove down the road, toward town. As she passed Bob Greeley’s car which was still parked at the home wrecker’s house, she fought the urge to stop. She squeezed the steering wheel tighter and drove by, telling herself that it really wasn’t her business. No matter how much she liked Grace or how bad she felt for her, it wasn’t her place to step in.

  Containing her anger as best she could, Miriam drove on without so much as a glance in the rearview mirror. She stopped at the end of the dirt road, made sure there was no traffic, and then made a right onto the paved highway that ran through town. She didn’t stop again until she made a left turn and pulled in at the pharmacy. She shut off the car, took a deep breath, and ran her hands over her face in an effort to wipe away any trace of her crying spell.

  When she thought she’d made herself at least somewhat presentable, she got out of the car and walked into the cool, welcoming air of the pharmacy.

  Over the chime of the bell above the door, Frank Walter greeted her when she came in, just like he always did.

  “Hello, Miriam.”

  “Hi, Frank.”

  “Something the matter?”

  “No,” she answered as she walked to the far right side of the pharmacy, where the soda counter welcomed her.

  Frank made his way from the pharmacy counter to the soda counter. “What can I get you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Miriam said, sighing.

  “A Coca-Cola, perhaps?”

  The thought of having a Coke renewed the anger in her. She knew poor Grace Greeley wanted one but was told she couldn’t have one. There was no way she could sit there and drink a soda with a clear conscience.

  “No. I’ll just have a chocolate milkshake.”

  “Coming up,” Frank said as he went to work, happy to have something to do to take his mind off his late wife Caroline.

  Miriam felt a little better being in the air conditioned store, but she was still angry and no amount of cool air would stop that. All she could think about was Grace, down on her knees in the dead grass and the dirt, scrubbing that man’s dirty clothes on a washboard. Clothes he’d probably worn to that whore’s house.

  She thought of Grace’s face, bruised by the hands of a man who was unfaithful to her. And even though she couldn’t see Grace’s feelings, she had no doubt they were far more bruised than her face.

  Though she tried hard to hide it, Frank could tell something was bothering Miriam. It was more than just her flushed cheeks and red eyes. It was her subdued manner, which was very unlike her. Normally, she came in smiling and friendly, eager to chat about everything from the weather to the latest antics of President Truman. She always asked after Frank and invited him to dinner. She told stories of the funny things her twins did or said. She was always jolly and polite.

  Today however, she was quiet and reserved. She didn’t offer any conversation and didn’t seem to be receptive to any Frank may start.

  Although he was sure Miriam had been crying, he wasn’t absolutely certain. Her eyes were red, but that could’ve been from the dust cloud that undoubtedly followed behind her as she drove to town. He thought he detected a roughness in her voice that was normally not there, the kind of throaty scratchiness that came in the wake of a good cry. He’d been living a long time and had heard a cried-out voice before. He knew what sad sounded like. The more he thought about it, the more positive he became that she had been crying.

  He left it alone though. If there was something on her mind, something he could help her with, she’d let him know. In the meantime, he would just serve her the milkshake she wanted and busy himself with other chores. He would remain ready to listen if she needed him to, but he wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t him in to do so.

  So that’s what he did. He set the milkshake down on the counter in front of Miriam, paused to give her a chance to speak if she wished to, and then slowly walked away. He remained behind the soda counter, close enough to be the ear or the shoulder she needed, but far enough away that he didn’t invade her space if that’s what she was after. Frank knew that sometimes that’s what people needed. Space.

  A good ten feet apart, Frank wiped and dusted the already clean machines and utensils behind the counter, trying his best not to think of Caroline, while Miriam sat in silence with her head down, pulling the straw in and out of her milkshake, trying her best not to think of Grace Greeley.

  Chapter 11

  Maude Wilson sang all the way to the pharmacy. With the windows down on her 1950 Mercury Coupe, she garnered more than a couple of stares as she drove down the smooth blacktop that cut through the center of town, her voice clear to all those in hearing range. She ignored the stares of the younger folks who lollygagged in front of stores, putting their tomfoolery on display for all to see.

  Their gawking didn’t bother her in the least. She’d been turning heads all of her life. First for her size, and then for her appearance. Some people described her as a loud woman. Not that her voice was loud, though she had to admit that it often was. It was more her choice of clothing and makeup. Add to that her red hair and love of jewelry and hats, and she couldn’t deny that she did outshine a lot of other women. By this point in her life, she was used to the attention.

  She pulled up to the pharmacy and parked alongside Miriam Lawson’s car. Before getting out, she checked her makeup and hair. She didn’t want the attention she earned to be because she looked silly. She was the mayor’s wife and had to look presentable at all times. Even more so when her husband was wearing trousers with holes in the knees.

  Satisfied that she looked the best she could look, especially considering that she was sweating her makeup off as fast as she applied it, she got out and walked to the door of the pharmacy, eager to feel the cool air against her hot and sticky skin.

  With her purse hanging from her forearm, she pushed open the door and stepped into the pharmacy to the chime of the bell above the door. She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief of finally being in cool air, finally being able to easily take a deep breath without the suffocating humidity making it difficult.

  “Whew,” she said with a sigh.

  “Morning, Maude,” Frank said from behind the soda counter.

  “Good morning, Frank.”

  “Is it hot enough for ya?”

  “Oh lord. It’s like trying to breathe through a we
t towel out there.”

  “Yes, that humidity sure is somethin’.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” Maude made her way across the room and sat on a stool at the counter, leaving an empty stool between herself and Miriam. She plopped her purse down on the counter in front of her.

  “What can I get for ya today?” Frank asked. He stopped wiping and put down the cloth. He knew that he didn’t have to seek out something to do to keep occupied now. Not with Maude in the store.

  Maude glanced at the milkshake that set on the counter in front of Miriam, and said, “I’ll have what she’s having. It sure does look good.” Quickly she added, “But I didn’t come for the ice cream. If Ollie asks, you forced it on me.”

  Frank nodded and busied himself making another milkshake while Maude turned to Miriam.

  “How are you today, Miriam?”

  Still rather subdued, Miriam replied, “I’m fine. I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess? Are you fine or aren’t you?”

  Unsure of what to say, she said, “I’m fine.” While Maude nodded, Miriam added as an afterthought, “How are you?”

  “Hot. I thought I was going to burst into flames when I stopped off at the church on the way here. Ollie’s helping Gerald paint the church, you know. I stopped off to see Emma, who by the way has another bad headache today.”

  “Another one?” Frank asked as he brought the ice cream treat to Maude.

  “Yes. Poor thing. She’s had one nearly every day this week.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Frank. He pushed his glasses up his nose and gently shook his head. “She’s such a nice lady. Things like that ought to not happen to such nice people.”

  “You’re right. Things like that should happen to bad people. People who deserve to suffer.”

  “That’s true,” chimed in Miriam. “I certainly know someone who sure could use a good suffering.” Though she didn’t take her eyes off her milkshake as she pulled the straw up and down, in and out of the thick ice cream, she knew Frank and Maude were looking at her. She could feel their eyes on her face as they waited to see if she was going to reveal anything about this unnamed person. She was not.

  When it was clear that Miriam wasn’t going to say anything more about the person she thought needed to suffer, Frank and Maude went back to their discussion of Emma and her headaches.

  “Maybe she needs to take something stronger than Anacin,” Frank said. “I’ve suggested this to her on several occasions, but she says her doctor tells her that’s what she should take.” He shrugged his thin shoulders.

  “I think she needs to see another doctor. You should suggest that to her.”

  “I have. She won’t listen to me. Swears she’s going to the best doctor in all of Missouri. A young man over in Poplar Bluff.”

  “Poplar Bluff? Why doesn’t she go to one in Hoxton? It’s much closer.”

  Frank shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know. This guy was recommended by someone, and you know how that goes.”

  “And you say he’s a young man?”

  Frank nodded.

  “Well that’s part of the problem right there. Young doctors don’t know anything. You want a doctor who knows his business, you get an older man. One that’s seen it all, and if he hasn’t seen it, he’s sure to have heard about it. Young doctor,” she said under her breath. She shook her head and puffed air through her lips.

  “You’re her best friend.” Frank pointed his finger at Maude. “You should tell her to go to someone else. At least to get a second opinion.”

  Maude dismissed Frank’s advice with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head. “She won’t listen to me either. She’s as stubborn as a southern mule. Won’t do a thing unless it’s her idea.”

  With a smile, Frank said, “Maybe we ought to tie her up and beat her until she comes to her senses.”

  Maude laughed around her straw as she sucked up a mouthful of the cold ice cream.

  “I know someone who needs to be tied up and beaten,” added Miriam. Her tone was low and depressing, and it didn’t escape the attention of Maude and Frank. Both turned to her with furrowed brows and curious eyes.

  “Whatever are you talking about?” asked Maude.

  Miriam only shook her head.

  When Maude glanced at Frank, he shrugged and held up his hands. “She’s been like this since she got here a while ago,” he said.

  Both looked at Miriam again. “Well? Tell us,” Maude said as she turned on the stool to face Miriam.

  Finally, Miriam looked up from her milkshake, whose only purpose seemed to be giving her something to poke with a straw.

  “I went to visit Grace Greeley this morning.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “How is Grace?” Frank asked. “I rarely ever see her.”

  “She’s fine, I suppose. As fine as she can be living with that man of hers.” The fire was returning to Miriam now, bringing with it the anger and frustration she’d felt earlier.

  “Yeah, that Bob’s a hard pill to swallow.”

  Maude jerked her head around to look at Frank as she cackled out a high-pitched laugh. “Clever.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s real clever of you to say something like. What, with you being a pharmacist and all.”

  The look of confusion slowly drained from Frank’s face as he made the connection between what he’d said and what Maude was saying. But even though she was smiling, he still couldn’t tell whether she was sincerely telling him he was clever or sarcastically poking fun at him.

  The two looked back to Miriam, who slowly shook her head.

  “I had no idea what went on in that house. I mean, they just live right down the road from us. Less than two miles. And I never knew. Never even thought about it.”

  “What are you talking about? What goes on there?” Maude asked.

  Miriam looked back and forth between the two wondering if she should say anything else. She didn’t want to gossip, which is exactly what Bruce had accused of her doing, but she did want to talk about it. She wanted to know if anyone else knew about it, and if there was possibly something they could do to help Grace.

  “That poor woman lives in a shack.”

  “Is it that bad?” Frank asked. “I haven’t been out that way in a long time. It wasn’t in great shape the last time I saw it, and that was years and years ago, back when the Petersons still lived there.”

  “Oh it’s terrible. She keeps it spotless, mind you, but the whole doggone thing looks like it’s about to fall in on itself.”

  “You’re kidding,” gasped Maude.

  “When we went in the house, she made us each a glass of tea. And guess what?”

  “What?” Frank and Maude asked as one.

  “She doesn’t even have a refrigerator.”

  “You’re kidding,” Maude said.

  “I’m not. She has an old icebox sitting right there in the kitchen. That’s what they use. He won’t even buy her a refrigerator.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Frank, shaking his head and pushing up his glasses.

  “And you know what else? She told him she wanted to buy a Coke today when she walked into town for groceries, and he told her they couldn’t afford for her to have one. Couldn’t afford it! Can you believe that?”

  Frank shrugged. “Well, maybe they can’t,” he said, reminding her greatly of Bruce and his annoying habit of seeing both sides of the story at once.

  “They can,” Miriam said snidely. “He can afford anything he wants. It’s Grace that has to do without. He’s sending her to town to buy his beer, but tells her she can’t have a Coke. It’s a shame, a crying shame that he won’t let her have something as simple as a soda.”

  “He has been buying a lot of lemon lollipops lately. I assume they’re for her. So it’s not like he never treats her to anything,” Frank said in Bob’s defense.

  Miriam’s face wrinkled in frustratio
n. She couldn’t believe what Frank was saying. It was almost as if Bruce were speaking through him. Was that a man thing, where they all saw the good in each other, even when the good was so miniscule no one else could see it? Or did she just happen to know two of the most level-headed people in the world, both of whom were men?

  “All I know is she wanted a Coke. Just a simple, cold Coke after having to walk all this way in this heat to buy whatever it is that he needs. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have a heat stroke doing it. The woman deserves a cold soda when she gets here. As far as I’m concerned, she deserves more than that just for putting up with the likes of him.”

  Maude nodded as she drank her milkshake.

  Miriam asked, “You know what she was doing when I got there?”

  Frank and Maude shook their heads in unison.

  “She was down on her knees in the back yard, right out in the sun and the heat, washing his clothes on a washboard in a rusty wash tub.”

  “You’re kidding,” Maude said with wide eyes.

  “I’m not. Her bare knees were right down there on all that stiff grass, getting all scratched up. Sweat was rolling off her when I got there.” Miriam’s arms were taking on a mind of their own as her agitation at the situation grew. She began to gesture as she spoke, pointing to the floor one second, and then waving her arms around the next.

  “What’d you do?” Maude asked as she picked up the glass and drank some of the milkshake.

  “Well I helped her finish up the laundry is what I did. I hung the clothes on the line so as to speed up the process. But I’ll tell you what I wanted to do. I wanted to stomp his pants and shirt right into the dirt for making his wife work like that while he’s over there at that whore’s house.”

  Immediately, Miriam realized that she’d gone just a little too far. She shouldn’t have mentioned that Bob was having an affair. It was embarrassing for Grace. But it was too late now. The cat was out of the bag.

  If Frank and Maude had been losing any interest at all in Miriam’s story, they were all ears now. Both looked at Miriam with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, mouths agape.