The Vicarage Bench Anthology (She's Me - He's Her - We're One)

by Mimi Barbour

  “What a big-hearted creep.”

  His small, blackish eyes peered into Carrie’s soft brown ones, which were full to the brim with pleading kindness. He surprised them both by patting her clenched hands before he pranced off down the hall, casting only a small shadow on the lighted walls.

  “What a pompous ass! His magnanimity overwhelms one.”

  “I’m surprised he behaved as pleasantly as he did. I expected worse.”

  “I don’t wonder. He has a Bonaparte complex—a little man who wants to appear much bigger, so he browbeats people with his management position. Can’t stand men like him.”

  “He’s good with the children. They listen to him. They don’t act up with him like they do with me.”

  “Because you’re kind-hearted and they know you’d never hurt them. With your pal there, they know he’d make them pay and enjoy doing it.”

  Carrie opened the door to her classroom in time to catch a few of the boys running back to their seats, while others huddled around one desk, snickering and carrying on. Seeing only their teacher, the naughtiness continued.

  “I want you all to return to your seats. Take out your arithmetic workbooks and turn to page fifteen.” Carrie spoke firmly as she walked to her desk to put away her purse and close the drawer with her personal belongings, the drawer Mr. Browning had been nosing through. “Now, please.”

  Some students looked up and a few returned to their desks. Most continued with their shenanigans and ignored her. Then a voice they’d never heard her use rang out and immediately mustered everyone’s attention.

  “Get back to your own seats. Now! Bring out your workbooks. If, by the time I count to ten, there is even one student not occupied with the task I just assigned you, there will be trouble, and you will not like the consequences.”

  Carrie experienced baffled amazement at seeing her students scamper around to their desks and tumble their books to and fro, until in a short space of time all heads were bent docilely over their workbooks.

  “How did you do that?” Carrie felt stunned, amazed—dumbfounded.

  “It’s called respect. Children, in the same way as adults, react to and understand demanded respect. If you treat people only with kindness, many will react in the same manner, but more won’t. They’ll ignore you. Look, I’ve learnt in my life you gotta go after what you want and fight for it. Never back down if it’s important to you.”

  “Even if you’re wrong? Wouldn’t it be an empty victory, then?”

  “Never thought of it like that before. I suppose you’re right. To me, losing is a weakness, so I don’t lose. Maybe I’ve gone too far in one direction, but you’ve gone too far in the other.”

  “I think I’ve already started to change. Did you hear me tell off Mr. Browning? I was jolly good, wasn’t I?”

  “Jolly great, you mean!”

  “Rhett, I’m going to think very seriously about what you’ve just said. I mean it.”

  “Remember, you don’t want to be a doormat for the rest of your life, allowing everyone to walk all over you. Develop a backbone, demand the respect that’s your due, and people won’t mess with you.”

  “I was just wondering. What were the consequences you were intending to inflict on the children who might have ignored your warning?”

  “Lashes, maybe the rack, or the electric chair. What’s your preference?”

  “All good ideas. I’ll contemplate them for further misconduct, but I had imagined something worse, like giving detention or writing lines. You know, something lethal.”

  “Payback, you mean, for the torture they put you through daily?”

  Carrie smiled, enjoying their repartee, but she felt one important issue needing explaining. “I love my kids. Don’t get me wrong, they drive me batty, but they’re really just normal, energetic children, full of enthusiasm.”

  “Then it’s your responsibility to teach them manners and good behaviour. Children need firm guidance. When they become teens and adults, this lesson will be invaluable. I had it drilled into me as a child, and it didn’t hurt me at all. In fact, it’s made life easier, in the long run. Being accountable for their actions will get harder as they grow older, so forcing them to practice the concept now is as important for them as reading, writing and arithmetic.”

  Carrie had a lot to mull over. She sensed Rhett fading to give her space to ponder his wisdom. Her mind started to list his points.

  Obviously he was right, and niceness wasn’t always the answer.

  Occasionally, she needed to react more strongly instead of being—what did he call her?—a doormat?

  Apparently, she did have moments of courage.

  Hopefully she…

  A hand grasping hers pulled her attention to the pale youngster in front of her. She’d tried not to have favorites, but her soft heart lost the battle with this boy. She knew he needed her more than the others.

  “Yes, Robert. What is it?”

  “Miss, me da’s sick and needs me to work in the store for a coupla days. I promised him I’d get back home as soon as I talked to ya.”

  “Why, may I ask, can’t your older brothers help out at the store? Why you, Robert? You’re much younger.”

  “‘Strewth, they’s workin’ at the foundry and can’t help out. I’m sorry, Miss. I have to leave now.”

  “I understand, dear. I’ll send the work we’re covering home with your friend Nigel, and if you need any help, come see me and I’ll work extra with you. Please don’t miss too much, Robert, and return as soon as you can.”

  “I will, Miss. I’m sorry.” His plain little face wore such an anguished expression at having to stay away from her for any length of time that she instinctively hugged him to her and whispered in his ear.

  “I’ll miss you, lovey.” She felt a small shudder ripple through his undernourished frame. She swallowed the moisture that gathered at the back of her throat. The next few days at school looked bleak.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Carrie’s workday was over, exhaustion had beaten her down. Rhett had absented himself and left emptiness in his stead. She missed his caustic impertinence, but taking the advice he’d given her and copying his style worked rather well. The students performed much better, and she enjoyed teaching children who were involved and well behaved.

  All day her mind teemed with questions and sorted through solutions. Rhett’s silent suffering ate away at her. She couldn’t understand why he was able to close down to her when it seemed her lines were always open to him. Afraid to focus on the man, because their history showed her that he could tune in whenever it suited him, she blanked out her private thoughts. This whole mysterious metamorphosis had her constantly questioning her sanity.

  She stepped into the dingy hallway and called out, “I’m home, Gran,” as she made her way into their small, lighted kitchen. Her grandfather continued to read his newspaper and didn’t bother to look up. Her grandmother bustled over to her, arms open wide, reaching, and they embraced. Carrie went to her granddad’s side and leaned over to buss his cheek. “Hello, pet. How was your day?”

  “Same as yesterday and the day before.” He lowered the paper in order to look over the top and glare at her. Before he could speak his mind, the cheery voice from across the room interrupted.

  “Bless my soul, lovey, you’re just in time for supper.” Her grandmother’s face was lit with the spontaneous joy she wore every time Carrie appeared.

  It never failed to amaze Carrie how blessed she was, to be loved as much as this tiny woman loved her. If it weren’t for her Gran, she’d most likely be slaving in a restaurant or shop.

  After working each day, cooking at the neighborhood pub, Gran had taken in piano students every evening for years in order to pay for Carrie’s private school education and then later for teacher’s college. Despite her husband, who felt Carrie should go to the neighborhood public school, Gran had slaved and saved. She had been adamant. Carrie, their only grandchild, would have her c
hance.

  In a way, it had made life harder for Carrie because the kids on her street shunned her and called her a snob. The girls she went to school with didn’t live in her area, and so she grew up as a lonely outsider.

  Carrie often wondered if part of the old woman’s devotion was her way of making peace with her own daughter’s ghost, that of Carrie’s unwed teenage mother, Theresa. The sad story was told to her on the day she herself became a teenager. Her Gran, tears pouring down her face, confessed to Carrie that after Theresa broke the news of her pregnancy, her father’s unbearable attitude had sent the girl fleeing into the dark streets, crying hysterically. The guilt of not supporting Theresa against the furious man right then and there was a heartbreaking memory Gran agonized over. The remorseful father searched for his daughter day after day but to no avail.

  By the time Theresa returned home, defeated, she’d become rundown and weak and was close to delivery. The birth had been more than the slight, undernourished girl’s body could bear. She’d lived only hours after Carrie appeared, just long enough to have her mother promise to name the baby Carrie and to love and protect her and give her a home.

  Whether it was his daughter’s death, his grandchild’s birth, or a life spent in a fruitless and boring job, Carrie never knew precisely what made her granddad act the way he did. She only knew he was a miserable man married to an angel.

  Gran happily set a place for Carrie at the table. “Sit yourself down here, darling, and tell us of your day.”

  “I’m sorry, Gran, but I have to run. I’ve promised to return to the hospital and visit Mr. Parks, the man I told you about yesterday. I just wanted to stop here first in order to let you know. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Your grandmother has been preparing your supper all afternoon, miss. You will do her the courtesy of spending ten minutes out of your busy schedule and eat it. Silly chit!” The newspaper snapped open and his growling face disappeared behind the pages.

  Her gran’s tongue snuck out and she crossed her eyes in his direction, which had Carrie stifling her giggles and covering her mouth.

  Then, before she had an inkling he was back, Rhett exploded, using her mouth for his tool of punishment. Words she hadn’t gathered in her own mind flooded from her. It would be difficult to know, of the three people seated around the table, whose eyes opened the widest.

  “Old man, I’ve had about all your surliness I can take. You’re a cheerless old grump, and you should be ashamed of yourself. The Lord has sent you untold blessings, and you shroud yourself in misery and meanness. Those of us who have to live with you don’t deserve your bitterness. Open your eyes, man, and see how few years you have left. Quit wasting them so foolishly.”

  Clapping her hands over her mouth to stop more of Rhett’s tirade from gushing out, Carrie ran from the room and flew up the stairs.

  “I can’t believe you made me say those things. How could you? I’ll never forgive you! You don’t know what you’ve done.”

  She threw herself across her bed, grabbing the pillow to catch her tears.

  “I’ve only done what you should have done years ago—stop his bullying. You’re not here on this earth to be anyone’s whipping boy, Carrie. You’re too precious, Sweetheart, too kind.”

  For the first time since he’d joined her, Rhett allowed Carrie to feel his sincere emotions. He believed what he said to be true. He wanted to protect her, to stand up for her. His anxiety over her tears was palpable and heartfelt. How could she remain angry with him for caring about her so much?

  A low knock sounded at her bedroom door, the sanctuary she’d automatically rushed to. She glanced up in time to see her grandfather tiptoeing into the room, his hands clutched behind his head in a manner he used when terribly upset. He approached her and gingerly sat down near her on the single bed. He cleared his throat and waited until she lifted her tear-drenched eyes to his. Shocked, she realized his were in the same condition. Her heart split into tiny pieces. All her life she had striven for his love and here, now, she saw it blazing in his eyes and felt it in the gentle hands rubbing hers, as they lay clenched in her lap.

  “Carrie, forgive me. I know I’m a right crusty old tosser. I’ve never been comfortable with showing my true feelings or handling delicate situations, girl, but I do care about you. Tonight, I saw the same look on your face as there was on your mother’s when she ran away from me into the night. It near broke my heart. She left us for months, and then left us for good. It about killed your grandma. Don’t you be doing anything crazy like that, do ya hear me? We don’t want to lose you. The old woman couldn’t handle it.” His bottom lip quivered, and his voice was rough with suppressed emotion.

  She threw herself into his willing arms and sobbed as if her heart would break. “You love me?”

  “Bleedin’ right, I do. Always have! Now, enough of this nonsense! Girl, you go do what you need to do, and we’ll be here when you get back.” So saying, he patted her cheek clumsily, rubbing it in a way she vaguely remembered from her childhood. Then he scooted for the open door. As he left the room, she heard him sniff and then cough to cover it up.

  A warm glow filled her heart and a pure golden aura haloed around her. She was happier than she could remember ever experiencing before, and she was speechless. When she was a child, her granddad had been an easygoing companion, but the passing years had brought a change in the old fellow. Tonight she had a glimpse of her old playmate, and she loved the switch.

  Rhett interrupted her reflections. “He didn’t let me down. He came through like I prayed he would, although I have to admit he scared me by letting you get away before he made his peace.”

  “You knew this would happen? How could you know?”

  “Carrie, you’re too busy either pacifying people or putting up barriers to protect yourself, and you don’t see them. If you learn to read people clearly, most times you can understand their hearts, whether they’re true gold or a painted metal. Your grandfather watched you with the same intentness he did your grandmother. A woman who has given out so much love over the years had to have been filled up from someone. He was the most obvious.”

  “You’re a genius. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Knowing how much he cares has made me enormously happy.”

  “I know. I can feel it. And it’s a feeling I’ve personally never experienced before. Through you, I now know what a child feels when his parents truly love him. I thank you for sharing this with me.”

  “Your parents never made you feel this way, did they? Any time we’ve brought up your family, you’ve shied away from the subject. Except for your brother, that is. I get a strong sense that you care for him more than the others.”

  “My father, whom I buried a few days ago, was an actor who came alive only on the stage. He lived for his parts and merely existed in an alcoholic bubble when he wasn’t working. My mother died when I was five, and a few years later he remarried a woman who gave him two more children, my half-brother and sister.”

  “Your father must have named you?”

  “Yes, he did, the self-centered fool.”

  “What was your stepmother like?”

  “A scheming bimbo who caught him on the rebound. She hated me because I’m the spitting image of my mother, who was the love of my old man’s life. That stepbitch made life hell for me, and I retaliated by hating everything to do with her and hers. My irritating little brother had other ideas. He followed me around like a puppy. I didn’t want to give a damn, but he’s such a sweet guy, too nice to hurt. He came to me a few months back, wanting to work in the casino. Against my better judgment, I gave him a job, and things seem to be panning out so far. As long as he doesn’t crowd me, we get along.”

  “I know you aren’t married or you’d have spoken of a wife before now, but don’t you have girlfriends who miss you?”

  “Hundreds…”

  “But no one you care about. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Why do women always have to
be right?”

  “Why do men always have to be so irritating?”

  She glanced down at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Rhett, look at the time! It’s late. We have to go to the hospital now or they won’t let me in.”

  “No! You’re beat. Go downstairs and make peace with your, ah, Poppets. Your grandmother must be biting her fingers raw, waiting to see if he smoothed your ruffled feathers. Spend the evening with them. We can see about me in the morning.”

  “You darling man! Thank you. I am rather tired. You know what? You’re really very thoughtful.”

  “Honey, only since I met you.”

  Carrie knew he could feel her yearning for him, caring for him. She was glad. She’d never had a special boyfriend. She’d gone to an all-girls school, and her college days had sped by in a hectic whirlwind. She’d lived at home, worked two jobs to help with the costs, and stayed up half the nights catching up on her homework. There wasn’t time for fun. Middle-aged at twenty-five was pretty much how she felt. She’d missed out on so much.

  Rhett was her first real experience of caring for a man other than her granddad. She had no barriers to hide behind, no artifices to employ. Like a child, she was simplicity itself. She wanted him to know her heart was opening, like the petals of a rose reacting to the sun’s hot, nourishing rays.

  Chapter Seven

  Carrie couldn’t remember ever spending such a delightful time with the older couple. Jokingly she’d told them about her nickname for them, whereupon her grandfather had bellowed with laughter and called her grandmother Mrs. Poppet for the rest of the evening. Even Rhett had joined in, albeit in his own illusory way. His brand of slightly sarcastic humour tickled her grandfather’s funny bone and ended up marking the occasion in a very special way.

  Odd looks passed between her grandparents occasionally, and stares full of affectionate curiosity occurred more than once. Carrie was happily unaware of any intrigue. She just enjoyed each moment to the fullest.