Myra nodded, acknowledging Willow’s genuine response. She hadn’t intended to talk about Rudy to Willow, at least not this morning, but the conversation had come about so naturally, and now she warmed up to the chance to share her husband with someone new. Besides, it took her mind off the fool she’d made of herself last night.
“Rudy drove a delivery truck for a uniform company. His route took him all the way from Palm Springs into Los Angeles. He regularly put 200 miles a day on his truck.” She tucked her thin hair behind her ear and adjusted her hips beneath her, trying to get more comfortable with her foot propped up the way it was. “You have to remember. This was back in the seventies, when everyone wore uniforms. Rudy was a favorite at all his stops. His customers loved him. He joked with the guys and flirted with the ladies. He was a good man, Willow.”
Willow nodded. “I’m sure he was, if you’re the woman he chose.”
Myra beamed at the compliment, and continued. “He rolled his truck one day trying to avoid hitting a young man who’d pulled out of a side road without looking. Rudy was thrown out, and the doctors said he probably died on impact. This was before the seatbelt laws and his truck was one of those that didn’t have doors.”
“Myra! That’s terrible.”
“I know. Yes, it was terrible. Terrible in every way imaginable.” Myra’s heart felt heavy, as it always did when she thought about the difficult year that followed. “Rudy’s kid brother, Jack, was living with us back then. You’ve met him.”
“Jack? The guy who comes to play poker with you and the others here? I didn’t know he was your brother-in-law!”
“Yep. He lived with us after he left home, trying to get his feet under him. He was younger than Rudy by seven years, and when Rudy died, Jack took it on his own shoulders to look after me.” She shook her head briskly, remembering, her hair swishing around her jawline in opposite motions. “That was no easy task for any man, let me tell you, no less for a twenty-five year old who had just lost the brother he loved like a father. Ai-yi-yi! I was crazy with grief, and I couldn’t understand why God didn’t take me, too, and one night, I took out my misery on poor Jack. I screamed at him, I called him all sorts of terrible names, I told him to leave me alone, to get out and let me die. And that boy, he just took it. He stood there while I threw things at him. Dishes, a lamp, books, whatever I could get my hands on. Sure, he ducked and dodged as best he could, but he just stood his ground and let me attack him.” She snorted softly, remembering. “I finally stopped throwing things when he started bleeding. I hit him with a hummingbird figurine Rudy had given me to remind me of Costa Rica, and it split open his forehead.” She lifted a hand and drew a line down the side of her face with her forefinger.
Willow just shook her head in response, as though she could find nothing to say.
“When I saw the blood gushing down the side of his face, I passed out cold. Jack carried me to the couch, and when I came around, and we’d both calmed down a little, I took him to the hospital to get stitched up.” She grinned sheepishly at Willow. “He told the doctor he ran into an open cupboard door.”
“My goodness! I’ll never look at Jack the same again.”
“I know. The man deserves a cape. He’s been my hero ever since.” Myra waved a hand in the direction of her foot. “And ever since then, I pass out at the sight of blood. Last night, I mistook my light-headedness and tingling fingertips as the effects of a rattlesnake bite, but it was really just because the sight of my own blood was making me woozy.”
Willow shook her head slowly several times before finally leaning forward to speak. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Who? What do you mean?” But Myra knew exactly who and what the girl was talking about. “Jack?”
“Yes, Jack.” One of Willow’s curls kept dropping down over her forehead and getting caught in the eyelashes of her left eye. After repeatedly tucking it back up into the clip, she released the whole pile of hair and let it tumble down around her shoulders.
“He wanted to marry me. He asked me many times,” Myra acknowledged. “But I knew it wouldn’t be fair to him. I’d always compare him to Rudy, my true love, and Jack would always come up short. I couldn’t do that to him. Or to any man, for that matter.” Myra shrugged her thin shoulders. “I never stopped loving Rudy.”
“Did Jack ever get married?” The girl’s voice was low, sad in the aftermath of Myra’s story.
“Yes, he did. He met Linda in night school, and married her. She was his teacher, in fact, and several years older than he was. She was divorced and had two children already, but I’ve never been close to them.” Myra waved her hand around at the room again. “Shortly after he moved out, I sold the home where I’d said goodbye to the three most important men in my life—Rudy, our baby, and then Jack—and bought this little place.” She beamed. “My home.”
Willow’s voice was gentle, understanding. “I feel a little like that about Elderberry Croft. I didn’t buy it, but that doesn’t matter so much as the fact that it’s utterly and completely me over there. No one else’s. And I love it.” She reached out and set her empty plate on the coffee table. “So I have a very nosy question to ask you, then. How does Jack’s wife feel about him coming over here to play cards with you, especially when he looks at you like that?”
Myra felt her cheeks flush. She knew he still had a soft spot for her, had always been a little in love with her, but it surprised her to hear that this young woman could see it so clearly. “Linda died about two years ago.”
“That means Jack is single again! Available!” There was a new twinkle in Willow’s eye that had nothing to do with unshed tears, and Myra wagged a finger at the girl.
“Oh no, no, no.” She shook her head in time with her words. “It doesn’t work that way when you’re old. We’re comfortable with the way things are. He comes to visit me a little more often, now that his wife is gone, and I’m happy for his friendship. I don’t know what I would do without him, but neither would I know what to do with him. I can’t imagine sharing this place with anyone else, not even Jack.”
“Myra, now I think you’re being stubborn. I think you two should have a date night. I can arrange it for you. Talk to Patti; I’m good at that kind of thing.” Willow’s sadness was quickly dissipating.
“No, Willow. It’s just too late for some people. I’ll be seventy-two this year, and Jack isn’t too far behind me. Besides, my doctor says I might not last much longer. My heart isn’t as strong as it used to be.” Myra wasn’t about to admit to this girl that there were times, more often these days, when she noticed Jack looking at her, when she’d turn and find his eyes on her, and quickly look away.
“But maybe your heart will find new strength if you open it up to Jack. It’s never too late for love, Myra. Never!” Willow pushed herself up out of her chair and scooped up the empty plates and mugs, taking them to the kitchen sink where she made short work of washing them.
When she returned to the chair, her mouth was set and her eyes intent. She laced her long, pale fingers together on her knees, and said, “Thank you for telling me about Rudy, Myra. And about your baby. And Jack. I’m honored that you shared them with me. I need to go run a few errands, but I’ll be back later to check on you, okay?”
Chapter 5
Willow left her with a promise to return with food for lunch, and Myra sat contemplating her bandaged foot, resting like a prized possession on its pillow. She knew what Jack’s reaction was going to be this afternoon when he came by. Put out with her, at first, for not calling him last night, then attentive and caring and… and spousal. He would see to it that she had everything she needed. He would offer to sleep on the sofa. He would make sure she took her pain pills and antibiotics, that she ate three full meals, and didn’t do more than she was supposed to do, and...and all the little things a husband would do for her. All the things she’d missed out on since Rudy left her alone. All the things she’d only glimpsed in the tender gestures Jack h
ad made toward her over the years, for a while, held in check first by her resistance, then by his vows to Linda.
She sighed deeply, her mind and heart in a quandary now, Willow’s words making real the thoughts Myra had kept stifled for the last few years. Jack was her dearest friend, and the thought of messing things up by changing their relationship this late in life scared her more than anything. What if it didn’t work? What if Jack’s unrequited love for her had become merely a habit to him, losing its authenticity in the novelty of it? What if he didn’t really love her anymore, after all these years? And did she love him enough to risk it?
Jack arrived on her doorstep, all in a fluster, right before noon, a container of clam chowder from the deli counter at the local grocery store. “I got a call from Eddie,” he explained. “He told me you’d been hurt, and needed help.”
“Eddie called you?” Bemused, Myra questioned him again. “How does Eddie know what I need? He hasn’t been by to see me.”
Jack lowered himself into the chair Willow had vacated, and visibly relaxed. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay. I was really worried when I found out you couldn’t even walk.”
Suddenly Myra caught on. “Willow!”
“She went with you to the hospital last night, right?” Jack frowned, pinning her with an admonishing glare. “And why didn’t you call me?” Just as she’d anticipated.
“She was there when it happened, Jack,” Myra explained. “It was almost the middle of the night and you were sound asleep. By the time you might have gotten here, I was already being stitched up.”
“Eddie said you were doing laundry.” Jack shook his head and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Laundry, Myra? At midnight? What if that Shadow character was hanging around here again? What if you ran into him, or some other unsavory fellow? You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night and not expect something bad to happen.”
“Don’t be silly, Jack. The only thing I really have to worry about here is the kind of unsavory fellow who crawls around on his belly in the laundry room, and now, thanks to Eddie, he’s not an issue either. Actually, the only person I have to be afraid of is myself. I’m the one who did this.” She waved dismissively at her foot. “And I’m fine. A couple stitches, a few days with my foot up like a pampered princess, and everything is back to normal. You should stop worrying so much.”
Jack leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. She could see the muscles in his jaw working, twitching, and she knew he was trying to hold back his rebuttal.
“Look, Jack. I have lots of help around here. Willow has already been by to visit and brought me breakfast. I’m sure Kathy will show up at some point today. You know she’s never out of bed before noon, but she’s got my laundry. Eddie is just across the driveway, and Al, once he knows I’m disabled, he’ll be over here all the time.”
“Humph. Doesn’t he have a job?”
“Who? Al? Of course, he has a job. But he’s off work by one in the afternoon every day, so he’ll be available whenever I need help.”
Jack suddenly straightened and sat forward in the chair, just like Willow had done, but with much more vehemence. “Al? Why Al? I’m available, Myra! I’m available now, not at one o’clock. I was available last night at midnight, awake and alert and sitting around doing nothing, but you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t bother asking me. I’m available to bring you breakfast, and do your laundry, and take you back to the hospital for your follow-up appointments. I’m available for anything you need. Or want.”
They stared at each other in stunned silence following his rant, gazes locked across the few feet that separated them. Finally, Jack spoke again, gentler, but no less fervent. “All you have to do is ask, Myra, and I’m yours.”
“Oh.” It was all she could think of to say.
Jack stood and began patting his shirt pockets. “I’m going outside for a smoke. You all right?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She didn’t like to cry in front of him because it always made him worry, but she felt the tears welling up anyway. “I’ll just rest for a bit, and when you’re hungry, come back in and we’ll share that soup you brought, okay?” She hoped she looked exhausted, even though she felt so wound up she thought she might start bouncing around the room like a corkscrew.
She watched him as he made his way out to her front porch, quietly pulling the screen door closed behind him. At one time, Jack was a tall man, but now his shoulders sloped away from his neck and rounded over his chest, as if protecting his heart, the organ that took up residence behind his ribcage. He’d never been heavy, but his lean frame now looked gaunt to Myra, like he’d lost weight since losing Linda. And perhaps he had. Linda had done most of the cooking for them, even up until those last days before she slipped away in her sleep. Myra had been the grateful recipient of many of Linda’s wonderful meals for thirty-odd years, and even though she hadn’t ever gotten to know Linda’s children well, the two women had become good friends.
Maybe Jack was just lonely. After all, he’d never really lived alone. He went from his mother’s home, to her and Rudy’s home, then to Linda’s home, and now, for the first time in his life, he lived all by himself. Myra remembered that feeling, right after Jack married and moved out, how vacant her house—and subsequently, her life—seemed, and when a friend told her about The Coach House Trailer Park and the mobile home up for sale, she’d jumped on it, desperate for a change, for new life, for new faces, and new scenery.
She’d said a teary goodbye to the ghosts of Rudy and little Rudy who had taken to wandering around their home right before she moved, and when she climbed into the front seat of Jack’s overstuffed station wagon, she didn’t look back. Jack reached for her across the console, and she let him wrap his sturdy, work-roughened, and very real fingers around her hand. They drove in silence together, and she couldn’t imagine making that journey with anyone else.
Myra awoke some time later to the sound of muffled voices outside the front door. Men’s voices, and there were at least two, maybe more. She lay still, trying to pick out the different timbres, identifying cadences that determined identities. Jack, of course, Al, and it sounded like Eddie, and another voice, too. Who could that be? Opening one eye, she peered up at the plain white clock on the wall beside the pantry. Good gracious! She’d been asleep for over an hour!
Sitting up, she carefully lowered her foot to the floor, and reached for the pair of crutches leaning against the end of the couch. She needed to use the restroom, and she really did not want all those silly men out there offering to help her. She’d do it on her own before they found out she was awake.
As she hobbled and wobbled the short distance to the bathroom, she thought about Shelly Little over in Space #8, and how she’d fallen and twisted her ankle just a month or two ago. She, too, had been forced to keep her foot elevated, but she’d borrowed a walker from Richard Davis in Space #10, who had an extra one.
“I need to call Patti,” Myra muttered, feeling clumsy and dangerous on the crutches. In just one morning of using them, her armpits were already sore, her left hip was aching from the strain of supporting her weight, and her neck and shoulders were tight and tense. And all she’d really done was get in and out of bed, and up and down off the sofa a few times to go to use the restroom. This simply would not do.
Besides, maybe, just maybe, she’d pick Patti’s brain about the date night Willow set up for the Davis’ back on Valentine’s Day. Maybe.
Chapter 6
She tripped her way into the small room, closed the door behind her, and leaned against the vanity counter, lifting her gaze to look at her reflection. “Ai-yi-yi!” Myra’s thin, silky hair tangled nest-like around her face, as though she’d tossed and turned for hours, and the shadows beneath her eyes belied the truth that she’d slept well. “Thank goodness those boys didn’t see me like this!” She reached for a brush, and as she did, one crutch slipped out from under her arm and crashed to the floor, the aluminum frame
clanging loudly against the porcelain toilet bowl on the way down, startling Myra with how loud it was. Without thinking, she took a step and let out a cry of pain, and a moment later, Jack was pounding on the door.
“Are you all right in there?”
Trying not to moan, she dropped clumsily to the toilet, and bent over to take a look at her foot. Fortunately, she saw no blood seeping through the white gauze; she was a little worried about toppling over in a dead faint all alone. “I’m fine, Jack. I’m just using the toilet. I’ll be right out.”
Several minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, thrusting her shoulder against the lightweight door. Jack stood only a few paces away, and around her dining table, sat Eddie, Al, and Eddie’s younger brother, Donny.
Of course. Donny had moved back in with Edith last month, and wherever Eddie was, Donny was also. Eddie wasn’t letting Donny out of his sight these days, and Myra thought that was a good thing. As handsome and charming as Donny was, the guy was trouble, with a capital T. In the month he’d been here, she’d seen him stumbling in at all hours of the night, usually a bit on the toasty side, slurring his words and singing raunchy country songs about beautiful bodies and blue jeans.
Myra had known Edith and her boys for years, and Edith seemed blind to her younger son’s true nature, poor woman. Clearly, Eddie was trying to step in and teach Donny some responsibility, but Myra couldn’t help wondering how effective it would be in the long run. Donny didn’t seem inclined to change, at least not when Eddie was all tucked in bed at night and the younger man was cut loose.
The men watched her in silence as she made her way back to the sofa, Jack right behind her, both hands extended, ready to catch her if she happened to go down. When she was seated, and had repositioned her foot back up on the cushions with Jack’s help, she turned to her audience and flashed them a self-conscious smile.
Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection Page 17
