The Coach House

by Florence Osmund

  “It’s a good day, Wayne.” He shot a glance at Marie. “Everything is just fine. I didn’t expect to find you here. How come you’re not working today?”

  “Well, the missus wanted the family to go for a ride in the country this afternoon, so I closed the station for the day. You know it kills me to do that. Ed, this is Marie Costa. She lives in the coach house. Marie, this is our next door neighbor, Ed Peterson.”

  Marie smiled and extended her hand to Ed. “Nice to meet you, Ed.” She struggled to get the words out. “It’s nice to know we have a policeman living next door.” No, it’s not. It’s frightening to know we have a policeman living next door. She wondered if he was aware of the incident she had at the Atchison police station. It was a small station. He probably did. He probably knows my every move.

  “Well, this is a pretty sleepy little town. You really have nothing to worry about.” He studied her face. “Where did you live before here?”

  “Chicago.”

  “Well, you’ll find this town a lot different from Chicago. What part of the city did you live in?”

  She didn’t trust him. “It was actually pretty quiet where I lived.”

  He turned his attention back to Wayne. “Listen, the reason I came over was to borrow your hand drill. I’ve got a screen door that needs to be replaced, and my drill broke.”

  “Sure, I’ve got one in here someplace.” He led Ed into the middle garage.

  Marie remained on the bench, took in a deep breath of air, and wondered if it would ever get any easier. When Wayne returned, they finished talking about the car. She was about to go back to her apartment when she saw that Ed had stopped to talk to a man on the sidewalk in front of the Edwards’s house. When Ed moved to one side, the man came into full view. Short and stout. No cigar. They shook hands and went their separate ways.

  Wayne interrupted her thoughts.

  “So when would you like to see it?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “The car. When would you like to see it?”

  They made arrangements for Marie to see the car the following day.

  * * *

  “Do you want to go see It Happens Every Spring this weekend?” Marie asked Karen. “I’ll pick you up in my new car!” Wayne had come through with the Ford. It had a few dents and bruises on the outside, but he assured her the engine was in perfect running condition.

  The lighthearted baseball comedy starred Ray Milland as Vernon Simpson, who accidentally develops a product that when rubbed on a baseball allows a pitcher to strike out every batter he faces. He tries out as a pitcher for a major-league team and becomes the star player. In the final scene, Milland runs out of his magical chemical and has to pitch without it.

  Partway through the film, two ushers, followed by a policeman, came through the theater waving their tiny flashlights in the crowd. They started at the front of the theater and worked their way back. “Calm down,” Karen whispered to Marie. “I can hear your heart beating way over here.”

  Marie stared straight ahead at the movie screen. But when the ushers and policeman came back up the aisle empty-handed, her palms started to sweat. She pretended to look for something in her purse. She felt their flashlights pass across her face. It was only when they were gone, she started to breathe again.

  As Marie and Karen left the movie theater, the same policeman was outside with two young boys who were now joined by their parents. He was giving them a lecture about sneaking into the theater.

  “See, it turned out to be nothing,” Karen said.

  “I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier…believe me.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Carousal #4

  “How would you like to go to San Francisco with me?” Karen asked Marie. “My aunt lives there and lets me stay in her house whenever she travels, and she’s going to visit her brother for a week. Want to go?”

  “Are you kidding? I’d love to!” She hadn’t traveled anywhere since leaving Richard, and she missed it.

  Karen’s aunt picked them up at the San Francisco airport. The three of them spent the rest of the day visiting. The following morning, they drove Karen’s aunt to the airport and then headed for Fisherman’s Wharf. For the next three days, Marie and Karen did all the things that typical tourists do. They rode on cable cars, drove up and down Lombard Street, visited the Cliff House, strolled around Knob Hill, and toured several historic mansions.

  “Thanks for helping me pack, by the way,” Karen said to Marie as they headed for the boardwalk. “I had forgotten all about the clothes tucked way in the back of my closet.”

  “That dress looks so good on you. Why haven’t you worn it?”

  Karen didn’t respond.

  “Karen?”

  “I haven’t worn it since Ed died.”

  “How come?”

  Marie could tell Karen was getting uncomfortable with their conversation.

  “Put all my nice clothes away after he died. I didn’t…”

  “What is it, hon?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you look great in that dress, and if you ask me, I think you should bring all of those clothes to the front of your closet and start wearing them again.” She glanced at Karen who was staring straight ahead. “I know you didn’t ask me, but…”

  “It’s just that Ed used to pick out clothes for me and would make me feel good in them. Now…”

  “Now, what?”

  “I just try to blend in with the background, and then there aren’t any expectations.”

  Marie took hold of Karen’s arm. “We both need to change, my dear.”

  As they strolled down the boardwalk at Fisherman’s Wharf, breathing in the moist salty sea air, Marie realized for the first time since she left Richard, she didn’t think about him when out in public. “This is so nice,” she told Karen. “Maybe I should have relocated clear across the country from him. I feel so liberated here.”

  “And what? Miss out being with me?”

  They came across a fortune teller sitting at a rickety card table at the edge of the grass. Her crudely made sign read, FORTUNES $3.

  “Let’s go,” Karen said. Marie rolled her eyes and followed her.

  The woman was middle-aged but looked older, with skin like an orange that had been left out in the hot sun, her upper lip severely creased, and her hands markedly veined. She was far too thin and dressed like she had put together her outfit from a Salvation Army store. Her straggly brown hair covered parts of her large vacant eyes. Karen sat down on the only other chair at the table and handed her three dollars.

  “Give me one of your earrings,” the woman ordered in a low gravelly voice. Karen obliged her. The woman looked at Marie and barked, “Can’t you stand farther away? This is private.” Marie backed off several feet and leaned up against a tree where she watched two sea gulls vigorously fight over a crust of stale bread while Karen had her fortune told.

  Fifteen minutes passed. The losing gull was screeching so loudly, Marie couldn’t have overheard the fortune teller’s words to Karen if she had tried. When they were done, Karen sported a big smile. “Okay, you’re next.”

  “I really don’t want to do it,” Marie whispered. “She gives me the creeps.”

  “Next!” the woman growled.

  “Go on!”

  “Oh, all right.” Marie sat down in front of the woman.

  “My name is Ojha. O-J-H-A.” She gave Marie a hard once over. “You make me nervous.”

  Marie started to speak, but Ojha interrupted her. “Don’t talk. You need to be careful.” Her eyes shifted from left to right, looking past Marie, avoiding her eyes. “He’s in trouble, and so are you.” She frowned. “Let me see your hand.” Marie held out her right hand. “The other one.” Marie held out her left hand. “Where’s your wedding ring?” Before she could answer, the fortune teller said, “Stop! I can’t continue. Go away! I don’t want you around me. Keep your three dollars. Just go away!” The craggy woman clutch
ed a cross to her heart and chanted.

  Paw of cat

  Lock of hair

  Power of magic

  Into the light

  Surrender the wand

  And fire ignite

  Release me!

  Marie backed away, grabbed Karen’s arm and walked fast towards the parking lot.

  Karen looked at Marie with wide eyes. “I heard everything. What was that chant all about? It scared the bejesus out of me.”

  “I don’t know what it meant, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t, ‘It’s been nice talking with you and enjoy the rest of your day.’”

  “What did you think about what she said to you? About you needing to be careful.”

  “Well, that wasn’t something I didn’t already know, but to hear it come from her was pretty frightening. Makes you wonder if they really do have some insight the rest of us don’t have.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “What did she say to you?” she asked Karen.

  “First she asked me for an earring, and she held it the whole time she was talking to me.”

  “Did she give it back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What was your fortune?”

  “That I will meet someone named Edward and fall madly in love with him. But I need to be careful because he’s not the person I think he is.”

  “Hmm. She got part of it right.”

  “I know. Creepy, but not as creepy as what she said to you.”

  “Do you believe in them?”

  “Fortune tellers?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “They talk about them all through the Bible.”

  “Really? What’s said about them?”

  “They were pretty much frowned upon.”

  “Maybe I’ll follow that caution.”

  Marie couldn’t get the fortune teller’s words out of her head, but even more disturbing was the woman’s facial expression when she told Marie she didn’t want to be around her, like she had just come face-to-face with the devil himself.

  By their last day in San Francisco, Marie had calmed down from the fortune teller’s admonition. She and Karen ended their trip with one of the local sightseeing tours. The tour bus, which was designed to look like a trolley car, had indoor and outdoor seats. The weather was ideal, and thinking they would see the sights better, they sat outside.

  “Why is everyone sitting inside on such a gorgeous day?” Karen asked when they left the depot.

  “Don’t know.”

  The tour guide meandered his way through the streets of San Francisco, identifying points of interest along the way. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen. We’re about to cross over the San Francisco bridge,” the tour guide said over the loud-speaker. “To the two brave girls who are sitting outside in the back of the bus, hold on to your hats!”

  Marie and Karen exchanged worried looks. Then the tour guide stomped on the gas and sped across the bridge. It was all Marie could do to hold on to her purse with one hand and the side of the bus with the other while they flew over the bridge at breakneck speed. She looked over at Karen who was also hanging on for dear life. But Karen had an additional problem.

  Karen had bought a wig for the trip so she wouldn’t have to be bothered with her high-maintenance hair. She held on to it with both hands, her left arm wrapped around a support pole. Her purse thrashed about on her other arm, batting her in the head every so often.

  Marie tried to talk to her friend, but the wind was so forceful, no words came out. And on top of it, she couldn’t stop laughing at the spectacle Karen was making of herself, the kind of uncontrollable laughing that makes your eyes water and stomach hurt. Too bad Karen wasn’t laughing.

  When the tour bus finally crossed over the bridge, the driver slowed down and pulled into a rest stop. Marie and Karen didn’t move. They just sat there looking at each other. Marie’s hair, which she had doused with hairspray before leaving the house, remained in a slightly upward position, as if the wind was still blowing it backward. Karen’s wig was another story. Between the force of the wind and the grip she had on it, it had taken a forty-five-degree turn clockwise.

  “Shall we see if there are a couple of open seats inside for the trip back?” Marie asked in a forced calm voice, trying hard not to laugh at Karen’s disheveled hairpiece.

  “Good idea.”

  Exhausted from four days of nonstop sightseeing, shopping, and eating, the two women slept during most of the flight back to Kansas City. They had just disembarked the plane when Karen told Marie she needed to stop in the restroom. Marie waited patiently for her friend to return.

  What’s taking her so long?

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure. Why?” Karen asked.

  Marie had a funny feeling about Karen’s long bathroom visit. Had she been stalling for some reason? She tried to shake it off. The days of thinking Karen wasn’t the person she purported to be were long gone. “Nothing really. Let’s go.”

  They were within a hundred feet of the baggage claim area when Karen said she had to go to the restroom again. “Must have been something I ate on the plane.” Ten minutes later, she emerged and, without looking at Marie, said, “Sorry. Think I’m okay now.”

  As they approached carousal number four, Marie stopped abruptly and grabbed Karen’s arm. She pulled her back, an old fear climbing up into her throat. There by the carousal was the familiar figure of Richard. Marie audibly gasped and felt a little faint. She grabbed Karen’s arm, both to steady herself and to stop Karen from proceeding.

  “Stay back,” Marie whispered, leading Karen backward a few feet and around the corner.

  “Why?”

  “Because my husband is standing over there.” Her stomach immediately knotted. It had been nine months since she had run into him at the Atchison police station.

  “Which one is he?” Karen asked, looking directly at Richard.

  “The one in the black trench coat and grey hat.”

  “Sure is handsome.” Marie shot her a look. “What do you think he’s doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Marie whispered. She peeked around the corner. “He’s just standing there, looking at the bags.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “I don’t know. Let me think.” Marie had often thought about confronting Richard the past several months. Many scenarios had run through her mind, but this wasn’t one of them. She felt her throat tighten. Even if she were able to muster the courage to do it here, what would Karen do?

  No, confronting him is something I need to do alone.

  “Let’s go get a cup of coffee or something and then come back. Maybe he’ll be gone by then.” She hoped she wouldn’t later regret having made that decision.

  They returned to the baggage claim area an hour later. There was no sign of Richard.

  “Why don’t you go fetch the suitcases just in case he’s still around somewhere? He doesn’t know who you are,” Marie suggested, knowing full well he did. She looked for a telltale sign on Karen’s face but didn’t see one.

  Marie watched Karen walk toward the carousal, which had now stopped moving. There were no suitcases in sight. Karen turned around to look at Marie, shrugged her shoulders and then signaled to her that she was going to the lost baggage counter.

  “Where’s mine?” Marie asked when she returned.

  “They said mine was the only one left on the carousal.”

  “I bet that weasel took my suitcase! That lowdown dirty son of a …”

  “Calm down, Marie. Maybe your suitcase is actually lost. What would he want with it, anyway?” Marie shook her head. “They told me to tell you to come to the desk and fill out a lost baggage claim form.”

  Marie’s stomach did flip-flops as she scanned the area for Richard. “I’ll fill out the stupid form, but I know he took it. Somehow he found out I was on this flight, and I’ll bet he just wanted to scare me, and when I didn’t show up to pick up my bag, he decided the next best thing was to tak
e it. Why else would he be standing in the baggage claim area right next to the carousal for this particular incoming San Francisco flight?” Karen gave her a doubtful look. “Don’t look at me like that. I know how he thinks, Karen. That’s something he would do.”

  “Or maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe he was on the flight.”

  “No, I would have spotted him.”

  “How would he know you were on this flight? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Karen, lots of things didn’t make sense with that man. This is just one more.”

  “C’mon. Let’s go fill out that form.”

  “At least we had a good time while it lasted,” Marie said afterward. She hesitated a few seconds. “Especially the trolley bus ride. What a riot, you have to admit,” she teased. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop laughing at you, but you should’ve seen yourself.”

  “Wasn’t that funny,” Karen quipped. “And I’m glad you got such a kick out of it at my expense!”

  “Don’t be such a poop, Karen. C’mon, you thought it was funny, too.”

  “Careful. I’ll call Ojha, and she’ll put a spell on you.” She shot Marie a quick grin to let her know there were no hard feelings.

  Marie couldn’t figure Richard out. She was fairly certain his only objective was to get her back, but his behaviors weren’t always consistent with that goal. She thought about each incident and tried to connect the dots, but realizing she didn’t always understand her own behavior, she soon stopped trying to figure out his.

  After the San Francisco incident with Richard, Marie and Karen stuck closer to home, and when they did go to dinner together, they requested a back table where Marie took the chair facing away from the rest of the guests. In the movie theater, Marie sat in the back row next to the wall. And when they were out in public, Marie went back to wearing a floppy brimmed hat. It was a step backward that Marie regretted having to take.

  * * *

  By the middle of 1949, the economy experienced its first material post-war boom. The automobile, housing, and electronic industries were gradually growing, college attendance was at an all-time high, and the unemployment rate was dropping. It was the beginning of an era of restructuring.