Then they were standing there looking at each other again. Charlene waited for Mason to continue with what he had been going to say. She hoped he was going to say something about coming to see her, a thought she immediately stuffed down.
“I was just goin’ in for a late lunch,” he said.
“Oh.”
“I guess you’ve already had lunch.”
“Yes.” She felt a little silly, and disappointed. Maybe he had been going to ask her for lunch. “Well, I’d better get these back to the shop. The sack’s startin’ to get wet.” Realizing she’d forgotten, she put her hand to the bottom of the sack. “Bye,” and she walked away along the sidewalk.
Then, in a moment of instinctive boldness, she looked over her shoulder to see if Mason was still standing there watching her.
And he was.
Jerking herself straight, she walked quickly to the corner and around it, and there, out of his sight, she stopped to take a deep breath. Ohmygosh, he had been looking after her.
She grinned, still standing right there on the sidewalk. A movement in the window to her left caught her eyes, and she realized there was a woman at a desk on the other side of the window, in the offices of the Valentine Voice. The woman was looking at her.
Charlene headed on up to the beauty shop, wondering why Mason would gaze after her like he had and not come to see her. Quite suddenly visions of making love with Mason, their naked bodies all entwined in passion, filled her mind. Dear Lord, if you didn’t want me to have such thoughts about a man, naked, you should not have made humans with sexual desires.
Jerking open the door to the beauty shop, she determinedly wiped the thoughts from her mind. She did not think she was up to sex with a man, no matter her desires. The only man she had ever slept with had been Joey. The thought of starting fresh in the sexual department was very daunting. How could she let a man see her naked? Everything might still be there, but it had definitely shifted.
And she certainly had enough mess in her life caused by one man without beginning a romance with another.
After work, Charlene was waiting on the sidewalk, when Larry Joe drove up and stopped for her to get in the Suburban. Just outside of town, she told him to pull over. “I want to drive the rest of the way home.” She had a job; surely she could manage driving.
Her son looked uncertain, and she pointed. “There, that looks good.” So he pulled to a stop on the shoulder, and they changed places, each getting out and going around the hood of the Suburban, getting back in and slamming the doors. Charlene sat there a moment, fighting down the panic that seemed to be in her bones. Then she shifted into gear and pulled out onto the highway. She drove slowly but smoothly, gradually increasing speed. She could feel independence welling up inside her.
She cast a grin at Larry Joe, and he gave his slow grin back. “Let’s roll down the windows,” she said, and they did, letting the warm wind blow their hair, while still running the air conditioner. She was driving!
The entry to the driveway came up, and she slowed, turning.
“Mom…Mom, you’re cuttin’ too close!”
The back left wheel went in the ditch this time.
Out and looking at it, Charlene said, “We have to make this entry wider.”
Without a word, Larry Joe strode away down the driveway to get the tractor.
That evening on the telephone, Charlene told Rainey, “Well, I went to see Freddy, I’ve gone to work, and I’ve put the Suburban in the ditch twice. I guess I am at least doing something.”
She told Rainey all about Freddy and his plans to move to California. The most Rainey said was, “Oh, well,” and Charlene did not find this adequate, but before she could fully address Rainey’s attitude, or lack of one, Rainey said, “So, what about Mason?”
“What about him?” Charlene said, feeling a little stubborn.
“Well, has he come around?”
“No, not really. I saw him at the cafe today, though.”
“And?”
“And he said hello.” After a moment she said, “He watched me walk away.”
“That’s something, I guess,” Rainey said.
Disappointment echoed in Rainey’s tone and seemed to come over the line and slip into Charlene. She thought of how she had been home for several days, and now all evening, and Mason had not called.
“I guess Mason has changed his mind about being interested enough to come visit.”
“Well, you said you didn’t want any involvement with a man,” Rainey reminded her.
Charlene was annoyed at what she saw as Rainey changing sides of the fence. She said smartly, “Yes, and I still don’t. If I can’t judge distance enough to get into my own driveway, I don’t think I’m going to be able to judge things like breaking up with one man and taking immediately up with another.”
“You have a good point,” Rainey said.
Charlene thought Rainey should have bolstered her, rather than agreed.
Danny J. got his bucking horse, a bay, very stout, and no matter that he was graying around the nose, he was a lot bigger than Charlene had expected him to be. A monster next to Danny J., who was short for his age. She didn’t like it at all, but she kept quiet.
With her eyes shaded by the brown cowboy hat she’d had since she was nineteen, she stood at the training pen fence with Jojo, who was standing on the second plank up for the best view. Joey held the bay horse against the fence, while Danny J. climbed carefully aboard.
Danny J. stayed on for four full bucks, before he was flung loose like a discarded bandana and landed with a definite thud in the dirt. Charlene wanted to run to him, but she held herself at the fence with Jojo, while Joey slipped through to help their son to his feet. She heard Joey say, “Are you all right, son?” and saw with immense relief that Danny J. was able to get up, to move everything. Oh, thank you, God.
He waved to Charlene and called, “I’m okay, Mom.”
“I see!” She waved back.
He prepared to get on the horse again.
“Mama, you’re squeezin’ me,” Jojo said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.”
It would not do for her to get sick. She had to stand there and smile and encourage. Her fear would harm him, but her faith would hold him up.
Jojo’s small warm, moist palms came to her cheeks. “Mama, it’s okay. You can open your eyes. He’ll be okay.”
She hugged her daughter and cheered for her son as he went bouncing across the pen atop the bucking horse. Looks like a bundle of rags up there. Oh, God, take care of him.
Three good bucks, and down went Danny J. again. This time he was up quickly, watching for the horse as his father hollered at him to do. The horse appeared to consider this a well-known game. He trotted off to the far side of the pen, as if saying, I know my part, you don’t know yours. Five times the pattern was repeated, and each time, Joey would slip through the fence and go over to instruct his son, laying a hand on his shoulder as he spoke.
For the final try, Larry Joe drove up and joined them, standing beside Charlene, hooting and hollering. “Hang on, buddy! Yeee-haaa!”
And Joey joined in jubilantly, “Yeee-haa!”
Danny J. took a bad fall this time, and instantly both Larry Joe and Joey were beside him, helping him up. Charlene tried to find her breath. She saw Danny J. was smiling, if a little crookedly.
Then she saw her husband standing with both his sons in the dusty, golden glow of the setting sun, and her throat got thick.
“That’s enough now,” she told them firmly. “It is time to get some supper.” After a minute, she said, “Joey, do want to have a bite with us?”
He looked startled. “Yes. That’d be nice,” he said, and a slow grin spread across his lips.
She turned from his warm expression and strode away to the house, all manner of emotions twirling around in her chest and propelling her to fly around the kitchen, throwing together grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and fruit salad, fresh ice tea, and
a table set for five places as it had not been in a long time.
Once she happened to look at the television, which had been left on CMT, and there was a sexy young woman singing and dancing her wiles all over the screen.
Charlene picked up the remote and clicked off the television with great satisfaction.
The children came bursting in the back door, Joey following more slowly and quietly behind. Laughing and poking, they fought for the sink to wash up. Jojo tried to squeeze between their legs, and Larry Joe lifted her up to stick her hands under the faucet. So very much like it used to be, Charlene thought, a sharpness crossing her chest. She avoided looking at Joey.
Then they were all at the kitchen table, sharing the meal. Danny J. and Joey did most of the talking, discussing the finer points of bronc riding. Larry Joe put in that he’d heard of a couple of colleges with rodeo teams and that Danny J. should think ahead about getting a scholarship. Joey’s eyebrows went up at this, and then he quickly agreed.
“I’m gonna ride broncs, too,” Jojo said, wanting attention and doing her best to look like a boy right there in the chair, with her legs wrapped around the chair legs.
The boys and Joey chuckled, and thus encouraged, Danny J. said, “You’re a girl.”
Charlene said, “Girls can ride broncs. There have always been women riding broncs and bulls. Your grandmother did.”
Jojo gave them a “See there.”
“Well, I gotta go, Mom,” Larry Joe said, pushing back his chair. “I got to get over to Mason’s and work on his engine.” He kissed her cheek.
“Oh,” she said, wondering what engine, her eyes following him as he ruffled his sister’s hair and waved goodbye to them.
Joey’s questioning gaze met hers. Averting her eyes, she rose and got the pitcher of ice tea, refilling Joey’s and Danny J.’s glasses. Just as Jojo was wiggling onto her father’s lap, his pager began to buzz.
“Uh…I’ll use the phone in the living room,” he said, moving Jojo so he could rise.
Charlene said, “Danny J., you’d better get out there and feed and water the horses,” and Jojo went racing after her brother.
Charlene cleared the table, and when she picked up Larry Joe’s plate, she suddenly paused, realization crawling over her shoulders.
Larry Joe had been sitting in the place that Joey used to sit. Sometime in the weeks since his father had walked out, Larry Joe had started sitting there and had naturally come and sat there tonight. And Joey had sat in Larry Joe’s place. She remembered then seeing Joey standing for a moment, looking perplexed, before sitting down.
Everything was changed, she thought, her heart sliding heavily downward.
She was standing there, staring at the table, when Joey appeared in the doorway. “I have to go,” he told her. “I had a horse come in.” He looked uncertain, as if torn in two.
“Yes, of course you do,” Charlene said quickly. She wasn’t going to be the one left waiting again. “Oh, don’t forget your hat.” She grabbed it from the hook near the back door and shoved it at him.
When he heard the rumble of Larry Joe’s pickup, Mason was in the barn, working on fixing a dent on the rear fender in the light from a fluorescent lamp he’d hung from the rafters. He had to keep swatting away moths that fluttered down in front of him and stuck to his hot skin.
“Why don’t you turn on the fan?” Larry Joe said and went over and switched it on. Mason felt silly for not thinking of it.
“I’ve got to meet Neville in a couple of hours,” he said.
“That’s cool.” Larry Joe took up a wrench to work on the engine they now had out of the car and hooked on a stand. “I’ll work as long as it takes to get this thing apart. I don’t have to get up early.”
“When do you start school?” Mason asked.
“Next week.”
Mason continued sanding. Only firm conviction kept him from asking about Charlene. What did he want to know? He knew she had come home, had seen her in town. There was nothing else he needed to know, he thought, working the flat board with fury.
“If I get this thing apart tonight, you want me to take the head to the machine shop?” Larry Joe lifted an eyebrow at him.
Mason nodded. “Yeah. Just have them do what needs doin’, and tell them I’ll pay for it.”
He paused and watched Larry Joe stand back and look at the engine for a minute, about like Picasso studying a painting. As soon as they had gotten the engine out of the car, they had agreed to leave it to Larry Joe and the body-work to Mason. Mason preferred the bodywork. He liked filling and sanding the dents.
Just then Larry Joe said, “My mom came home last week.”
The hair prickled on the back of Mason’s neck. He nodded, saying “Hmmm,” while again pushing the flat board at a rapid rate and thinking of Charlene the afternoon before on the sidewalk. Of her warm green eyes and creamy skin, and how her son would surely laugh if he knew Mason’s mushy thoughts.
“And she got a job this week.”
“Oh?” He didn’t look up.
“Down at the beauty shop. Dixie Love’s.”
“Ohh.”
“She’s decided to start drivin’ again, too.” He threw aside one socket and got another. “She’s put the Suburban in the ditch at the driveway twice.”
For a long minute there was only the squeaking of the socket wrench turning bolts and the shooshing of the hand sander.
Then Mason said, “Sounds like you need to widen the driveway.”
“That’s what she said,” Larry Joe said with a bit of surprise. After a long second, he added, “But I don’t think the whole town is goin’ to want to widen their intersections.”
Mason laughed aloud at that.
Their eyes met, and Larry Joe’s were so ripe with a question that Mason could hear it clearly: What about you and my mother?
Mason broke the gaze and stood up, laying the flat board aside. “I’ll go get us a couple cold drinks.”
Larry Joe watched Mason walk out into the night. Then, with a shake of his head, he once more bent over the engine. Whatever did or didn’t go on between his mother and Mason was not his business. And he wished her taking up driving again wasn’t any of his business, either.
He worked the socket wrench with expert turns. Things were easing inside of him. Maybe he was coming to accept that he and his father were never going to be close, that he could take it as it was and not be too disappointed. Maybe a lot of the acceptance he felt was because he was able to come over here with Mason. Maybe he was growing up, because he had come to realize that adults didn’t have all the answers. The preacher had said that there was only One with the answers, and that was God. Larry Joe would have to go along with that—it sure wasn’t any human on this screwy earth.
It was well after one o’clock when Larry Joe got home and found his mother had fallen asleep on the couch where she had been waiting up for him.
“I was a little worried,” she said, sitting up sleepy-eyed. “You said you were working on an engine for Mason?”
“Yeah. Out of an old Chevy that belonged to his grandfather. He’s paying me five hundred dollars.”
She blinked. “Oh. I hope it isn’t too hard a piece of work.”
“Mom, I’ve rebuilt three engines before this one.” He hugged her. More and more he was beginning to feel that she was so small in his arms. He was beginning to see that he wasn’t a child anymore, and it was unsettling to know, especially because it caused him to have some wild fantasies about Iris MacCoy.
Twenty-Four
The City Hall thermometer reads 75°
Vella came down to poke around in the rosebushes again in the gray light of dawn. Winston saw her because he had for the third time in a row been awakened by Ruthanne climbing into his bed. This time not at the foot but right up beside him. He just about had a heart attack, because he was having a bad dream about being crushed in a crowd of people at a cafeteria where Mildred had insisted on going. When Ruthanne’s arm flopped o
n him he came awake with a start, breathing hard.
He slid out of the bed, got his slippers on and stood there in his striped pajamas, scratching his head and wondering exactly what to do. What if someone came by and saw this? He would be in a fix. Although some down at the Senior Center might think more highly of him.
Deciding to see if he could get Ruthanne back to her own bed, he went around and shook her until she responded. He succeeded in getting her to her feet and walking back to her own bedroom, and he didn’t think she ever came fully awake.
He was fully awake, however, so he went on downstairs. As he passed the dining room windows, his eye caught movement. He went closer. Yes, it was Vella again. He had the disconcerting thought that maybe she was walking in her sleep, like Ruthanne. But if she was, she was also clipping roses in her sleep.
She did not look asleep.
He decided to go out and investigate the matter and was headed for the kitchen when an idea stopped him in his tracks.
Only a moment’s hesitation, and he was heading for the living room, walking on tiptoe so Vella would not hear a floorboard squeak, so thoroughly pleased with the notion that he could hardly contain himself.
He pressed the button on the little stereo and was sprinting for the dining room window when the first strains of “Dixie” hit the air. Through the window, he saw Vella hotfooting it across the misty pasture to home.
A flutter of guilt touched him at having frightened her. He should be ashamed, and he was. But, Lord, it was pretty funny. And he still wondered what she was up to.
Feeling energized, he went to check out the sky to decide about putting out the flag. Despite having the lights, he had taken to bringing the flag in before he went to bed, in case of rain, now that the drought was abating. Neville Oakes said he thought it was okay anymore to let the flag fly in the rain, especially since Winston had the lights, but Winston believed perfectly good traditions had been going to hell in a handbasket ever since Roosevelt had gotten in office. And he didn’t care to have a good flag ripped to smithereens by a storm, either.
He was going to have to get him a freestanding flagpole, he thought, as the strains of “Dixie” died away and his gaze moved from the dark clouds gathering above to his neighbor’s front porch. He wasn’t going to wait for Everett to make the next advance.
Driving Lessons Page 23
