Just then, reaching the end of the driveway, Charlene looked down and saw the lilac bush, squashed by her truck tire. Bending, she gathered the crushed limbs and tried to tuck them back with the rest of the bush. You failed in that turn, she thought. She had not meant to run the bush down. She had been doing her level best to succeed in driving, and yet she had made a mistake and squashed something. This was the way of life for all mothers and fathers, who tried to do their best but left behind little mistakes and failures, squashed places in their children.
Continuing on down the hill, she considered that the only cure for the unseen wounds was forgiveness, and it was sad that forgiveness so very often was one of those things beyond the reach of successful endeavor. She was simply very blue, and every thought was blue, and had she not been walking out in public, she might have had a good cry.
Just then, giving her a little start, a vehicle pulled up beside her.
It was Mason MacCoy’s truck.
She stopped on the old concrete sidewalk, and the truck stopped on the patched tarmac street. Mason, all thick-shouldered and blue-eyed, hopped out the driver’s door and looked at her across the hood.
“Would you like a lift?” he asked, his expression quite excited, she thought.
“Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you.”
He grinned widely and ducked back into the cab. She opened the passenger door and slipped into the seat. It was cloth, red. The truck cab was dusty but not dirty.
He put the lever in gear and started slowly down the street. “Where are you going?”
“To the Texaco,” she said, smoothing her skirt. Then she saw one of the books stacked in the middle of the seat start to slide. She grabbed it, an old book with the gold title halfway worn off. “Huckleberry Finn.” She cast him a questioning eye. “Is it an early edition?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I bought it at a used bookstore. Used hardbacks don’t cost so much, and the paper is a lot better. That one’s pretty old because I bought it a long time ago.”
“Oh.” She set it carefully back atop two others and some magazines and rested her hand on them to keep them from sliding.
“Are you going to see Larry Joe at the station?” he asked.
“Yes. He gets off in half an hour.” She wondered if she should say she was going home, if then Mason would offer to take her.
“Are you heading home? I’d be glad to drive you,” he said.
“Oh. All right. Thank you. But I’ll need to go over to tell Larry Joe.”
“Sure.”
He smiled at her, and she smiled at him, thinking again that he had the most beautiful blue eyes. And then she whipped her face forward, focusing her gaze firmly out the windshield.
“Did you know you’re running the air conditioner?” she asked after a minute.
He looked a little surprised, and then he nodded. “Yes. I like the windows down for fresh air. Are you hot?” he asked quickly, pressing the button to raise his window. “We could put the windows up.”
“Oh, no. I like it. I run the air conditioner and have the windows down a lot myself.”
“You do?” He lowered his window again.
“Uh-huh. I like the breeze. I got in the habit because Jojo, my youngest, used to get carsick, and having the fresh air helped her.”
“I got in the habit because of riding around with Neville at night on patrol, and he just about freezes me to death with the air-conditioning.”
“You ride around on patrol with Neville? Are you a deputy?” She had never seen him wearing any kind of policeman’s uniform.
“I’m the part-time help,” he said. “No uniform or weapon required. Basically what I do is provide an extra body to keep Neville and sometimes the other fellas from having to drive around alone every night.”
“Oh,” she said, imagining him riding in the patrol car, eyes surveying the town, getting out and dealing with speeding drivers or front-yard fights.
Forgetting to be self-conscious, she looked him over, thinking he could deal with toughs, noting the T-shirt that stretched tight across his chest and shoulders. His elbow rested casually on the open window. The wind fluttered wisps of his short, sun-touched hair on his forehead. She could see the sort of man he was, a solitary type, a man of deep contrasts, who would lift heavy feed and grain sacks all day and ride shotgun in the patrol car in the dark night, and possibly sit in the early hours of the morning on his porch, drinking thick, black coffee and reading classic literature from old books while dawn came on.
They pulled into the Texaco, underneath the portico, and the bell dinged. Larry Joe came out from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. A look of surprise passed over his face very quickly, as he came to Charlene’s side of the truck. Then he said a casual “Hey” to Mason through the window.
“Mason’s goin’ to give me a ride home, honey,” she said quickly, intently studying him for his reaction. That he had once told her he believed Mason was interested in her meant little. Sometimes there was small correlation between the head and the heart.
He looked down at his hands as he wiped them some more, and nodded. “That’s cool,” he said. “I probably won’t be home until after eight, then. After class.”
He still did not look her full in the face, and this worried her.
“What about supper? You need to eat, Larry Joe.”
“I’ll get a burger or somethin’, Mom,” he said, with patent patience, his eyes only grazing hers.
A car pulled up on the opposite side of the island. Larry Joe glanced at it. “Gotta get to work. See you later.”
Then, for an instant, he paused and laid his hand on the open window, and cast her a broad grin, a grin that jumped over and lodged in her heart, while his eyes met hers fully, and she knew his thoughts completely without words: Enjoy this, Mom…it’s all okay.
Mason pulled away. Charlene’s eyes followed her son, and he cast her a wave.
As Mason headed down the street at a good clip, Charlene had to grab her hair against the brisk breeze blowing in the open window. Only a few minutes ago she had felt so very discouraged about her life. Now she suddenly felt very happy. She felt, she thought, glancing at Mason, quite a bit reckless.
All the way to her house, he worked the question over in his mind. When he pulled to a stop in front of her house, he said, “I heard about Joey leaving town.”
She looked a little startled. “Yes, he did.”
“I probably should say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
She gazed at him, possibly a little startled. Then she tilted her head, looking at him with her green eyes, as if she was trying to figure him out.
He said, “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight.”
She continued for a long second to study him, and then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. My children will be home soon. I have to fix their supper. And I really can’t leave them alone.”
“It’s okay. I should have asked ahead, so you could plan. How about tomorrow night?” he added. Since he had started, he was going to go for it.
“A number of weeks back, you told me you wanted to visit me,” she said, startling him. “Danny J. told me you brought flowers one day while I was visiting Rainey.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why didn’t you come back when I came home?”
The conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn. He was not prepared for explanations. Finally he said, “I decided maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Do you think it is a good idea now?”
This made him a little annoyed, and he said, “I guess maybe I don’t care if it is a good idea or not. I’d still like to see you.” Although he was beginning to question his reasoning.
She looked down at her hands for a few seconds in which he wondered what he should do or say, and then she was looking at him again. She said, “My children are capable of staying for a few hours by themselves, but they aren’t ready for their mother
to go off on a date, and I’m not ready to leave them to go off on a date. We simply aren’t ready for dating.” She gazed at him as if to study his reaction.
He said, “Okay. Then how about if I go get pizza or fried chicken and bring it back? I don’t think that’s really a date. That’s more a friend bringing supper by.”
“Well…” She stopped, then said, “I had planned fried chicken for supper. It’s my daughter’s favorite. Would you like to join us?”
“Yes, I would like that,” he said, grinning broadly, thrilled at having won the invitation, although the next second he wondered why she couldn’t have said that in the first place.
They got out of his truck, and he followed her, his gaze flowing from her shining hair to her slim ankles. Then, at the door, he hesitated. What if their relationship didn’t work out at all? What about his cherished dreams then? At least now he had dreams to comfort his loneliness. If things went wrong, he would be left even without dreams.
“Please come in,” she said, holding the door open and looking at him with a quizzical expression.
He stepped over the threshold and into the dim coolness, alone with her, the woman of his dreams.
Twenty-Seven
The City Hall thermometer reads 81°
She asked him if he liked tomato pudding.
“I never had it,” he said. “You never had tomato pudding?”
“No, ma’am.” There was something touching about the way he said ma’am. Like he was giving her a pet name. And his blue eyes twinkled in a sensual way that made her breath catch in the back of her throat.
“Then I think it is high time you had some,” she said, pivoting quickly away from him and his blue eyes that were threatening to turn her into a fool.
He asked her what was on the menu, besides tomato pudding and chicken, and she told him green salad, rolls and potato salad, which she already had made. When she set out the large cutting board and chopping knife, he offered to make the green salad.
“I’m pretty passable as a cook,” he told her. “I used to cook for my grandpap. For the last year he had a restricted diet, and I even made him salt-free bread.”
Charlene asked, “Did you take care of your grandfather by yourself?” What she was wondering was if he had been married.
“Yep,” he said, slicing a tomato as deftly as a gourmet cook. He reached for the second tomato and said, “I haven’t been married since I was twenty-two, when my wife and I got divorced.”
“Oh.” She didn’t think she should be so glad at that bit of information. What difference did it make if he had been divorced one year or fifteen? Charlene, you are acting like a hormonal teen. And it felt delightful.
While she flitted around, frying the chicken, and mixing and popping the tomato pudding into the oven, he finished putting together the salad, then went on to whip up a vinegar, oil and herb dressing. It was quite apparent he knew something about salads, anyway.
He had her taste his dressing concoction for approval, and she properly made a fuss over it. Then their eyes met.
“I’ve never had a man help me in the kitchen,” she said, only just then realizing the strangeness of it.
“I hope I’m not bothering you.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, no. You aren’t.” After several long seconds, she added, “I like it.”
He looked pleased.
He washed the knife and cutting board and then worked to get the faucet to shut off.
Charlene went over to do it for him. “You have to get the cold knob set just right,” she said.
“I can fix it. Do you have tools? Never mind, I have some in the truck.” He said all this quickly, and Charlene barely got in a protest before he had the water to the sink cut off and was working over the handle.
He and Charlene, who was watching him, were bent over the sink, shoulders touching, when Jojo and Danny J. arrived from school.
“Mom?” Danny J. said, and she whipped around to see him and Jojo staring at them from the doorway, their round eyes moving from Charlene to Mason and back to Charlene again.
Immediately Danny J. made it very plain that the advent of Mason in their midst was not at all okay. Like Larry Joe, he did not say a word, but from a lifetime of familiarity, Charlene easily read her son’s thoughts, which were more or less screamed by his angry expression. I do not like this. He needs to go.
The first thing Danny J. said after laying eyes on Mason was, “I’m gonna go take care of the horses. I have a lot of homework to do later.”
Throughout dinner, Danny J. retained his sullen expression, while beside him Jojo continued to watch Mason with avid interest, all the time swinging her legs and kicking the table leg in a rhythm of sorts that seemed to have something to do with the conversation going on between Mason and Charlene. The more rapid the conversation, the slower the kicks, but when Mason and Charlene fell silent, gazing at each other, Jojo’s kicking picked up tempo.
While Charlene noticed the less than polite behavior of her children, she was incapable of responding to it in an annoyed fashion. The thrill of having a man unable to take his eyes off of her—and she had become convinced she was correct on this point—made her so delighted that there was simply no room inside her for annoyance. Delight edged out every other emotion, except for wonder at what was happening to her, and about the man who was causing whatever was happening.
Thoroughly fascinated as she was with what was going on between herself and Mason, it probably would have taken God Himself, coming in a cloud of glory and trumpets, to get her attention.
She watched Mason taste the tomato pudding and smile, saying, “This is delicious.”
“You like it then?” Silly, silly. She blushed, averting her eyes.
“Oh, yes, it’s great.” He took another bite, definitely enjoying it.
“Yuk,” Danny J. said.
“Danny J. doesn’t like tomato pudding,” Charlene said mildly. “He loves my potato salad, though, don’t you, hon?”
Danny J. scowled at her.
“I like tomato pudding…a little bit,” Jojo said. “Can I have some, Mama?”
“Of course, honey. Here. You just eat what you want and leave the rest.”
The table jiggled as Jojo kicked the leg, and Charlene was about to remind her daughter to stop, but at that moment she heard the front door open. Seconds later, furthering her pleasure, Larry Joe joined them.
“Aw, Randy had to go see some new girl he’s met,” he explained. “Got any left, Mom?”
Charlene raced into the kitchen to get her son a place setting and glass of ice tea, thoroughly enraptured at being in her home surrounded by all three children and an attentive man.
After the meal, Larry Joe made talk with Mason and his mother for a few minutes and then excused himself from the table, strode through the dimly lit living room and down the hall to his brother’s room. The door was closed, music playing on the other side, light shining underneath. He knocked, and when Danny J. said, “Yeah,” he went in.
“Hey, kid,” Larry Joe said.
His brother was sitting at his desk, hunched over one of his schoolbooks. Larry Joe threw himself on the bed. He looked over at his brother and saw him furtively wipe his eyes. Larry Joe looked up at the ceiling. No guy liked to be caught crying. If anyone had to catch you, it was best if it was your brother, but if a brother was smart, he didn’t let on about knowing.
Danny J. said, “What are you doin’ in here? Don’t you have a room?”
Larry Joe sat up, stared at his brother’s profile a minute and then said, “Look, kid, don’t screw this up for Mom. She’s happy. Don’t ruin it for her.”
Danny J. glared at him with red eyes. “And what about Dad? You don’t care anything about him, do you? You always hated Dad.”
His brother’s accusation stabbed hard and deep, touching already broken and wounded places Larry Joe didn’t even know about. “That’s not so,” he said quietly, feeling near tears himself. “But I’ll te
ll you somethin’, if they can be happier apart than they have been together for the last year, I say they shouldn’t waste time goin’ for it.” Then he added, “He’s run off, Danny J. What do you want her to do?”
“He would have come home, if she would have let him. And he still might.”
Larry Joe shook his head. “He wasn’t ever here half the time, Danny J….even when he was here, he wasn’t here.” He shouldn’t get angry. He couldn’t help his brother if he was angry.
“Maybe he wasn’t ever here because she never did anything to make him want to be.”
“Oh, come on, Danny J. The truth of it is that horses always come first with Dad, and they always will. Mom and us have always come second. You may think he is somethin’, but I’ll tell you, it was Grandma who had to come drive Mom to the hospital when you were born. Dad was off buyin’ a horse.”
Danny J. came up out of the chair and lunged at Larry Joe. Taken by surprise, Larry Joe, although stockier, went stumbling backward on the bed, with Danny J. punching him for all he was worth. Larry Joe twisted his head, trying to avoid the blows, and tried to grab Danny J.’s fists. “Stop it…” he hissed, but Danny J. was in a fury. He was gritting his teeth and crying and punching. Blows caught Larry Joe in the jaw and the nose, and lit his own fuse, yet he held himself back from hitting his brother. He just couldn’t do it. They rolled onto the floor and over into the desk and the chair, knocking it over onto themselves.
Then Jojo was there. “Stop it!” Her shrill voice cut through their huffing and puffing. “I’m gonna tell!”
This last caused Danny J. to quit fighting and look up. With a curse, Larry Joe shoved Danny J. away, scrambled to his feet and raced after his sister, catching her in the middle of the living room and lifting her clean off the ground. He clamped a hand over her mouth and carried her kicking and squirming back down the hall and into Danny J.’s room. Danny J. shut the door and locked it.
Driving Lessons Page 27
