At the Corner of Love and Heartache

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  The tornado had gone on across the street, taken a lick at the Fletchers’ garage, then stayed on the ground for several hundred yards, where it demolished a doghouse—vacant—fences, bushes and trees, and a telephone connector box, explaining the lack of telephones all the way down Church Street. When it went into the back part of Winston’s deep yard, it apparently lifted off, destroying one of the big elms in the process. As if thus satisfied, the tornado had disappeared into the clouds.

  “I don’t think it would have dared touch Coweta’s roses,” Winston said. He did not go immediately to look at his place, because he had to sit down and catch his breath from all the excitement, but Everett Northrupt had come down to tell him that his house was still there. Everett was a little miffed at not having been invited to the bachelor party.

  Marilee remembered Aunt Vella. She asked for Tate’s cell phone, and he told her it was in his car, which was now underneath the portico that was underneath the magnolia. He had the idea to try the telephone in the living room, which Marilee did not think for a minute could be working.

  “I called down here from Aunt Vella’s cell phone, but no one answered.”

  “Oh, I thought I heard it ring, but we were busy with everyone leavin’ in such a hurry. We didn’t even think about the phone.”

  He dialed the number for the drugstore, while Marilee waited for him to tell her the phone wasn’t working, but then he surprised her by talking to Aunt Vella. She had to contain herself to keep from snatching the phone out of his hands.

  “They’re okay.” He handed the phone to Marilee.

  “Aunt Vella?”

  “Yes, sugar, we are fine…just fine.”

  At the precious sound of Aunt Vella’s voice, Marilee squeezed her eyes closed. It seemed odd to be speaking on the telephone in a room where everything was perfectly intact and to know that above her head the house was blown away. Opening her eyes, she saw Tate mounting the stairs. Going up to see the great wound to the house.

  Aunt Vella was saying, “Your uncle Perry thought to get in the pharmacy closet. If that tornado had hit, he would have been pilled to death. I told him that’s what he would have gotten for being so wedded to this place and television that he wasn’t up there at Tate’s party, the old stick in the mud.” Profound affection echoed in her voice. “Anyway, it doesn’t look like any real damage on Main Street, except for a couple of forgotten flags, and Fayrene’s pretty new green awnings over at the café and her apartment are ripped to shreds. Bless her heart. She’s awfully upset about it. Already asked Perry for a sedative. Oh, and our electric’s out…. Funny the phones are working, but Perry says the wires are mostly underground.”

  Aunt Vella said she and Uncle Perry would be coming back quickly in Perry’s car, since the roads were open, and they hung up.

  Marilee stood there with her hand on the phone, thinking of Tate upstairs, but knowing she had to call Charlotte first.

  Charlotte picked up on the second ring. Yes, her friend had found her mother and house all fine. Some wind had come through, but not damaging, although they, too, were without electricity.

  “Isn’t it funny we have a phone?” she said.

  Marilee started to tell her about the wires being in the ground, but Charlotte said Sandy had just driven up, she had to go, bye.

  Marilee stood there with her hand on the receiver, going through a mental list of who she needed to check on.

  Just then the phone rang, causing her to jump.

  “Marilee?” It was Parker. “You and everyone else over there okay?”

  Parker had left before she and Corrine had gotten to the house. She told him they were fine and asked about his house. She knew Amy was okay, because she was down in Dallas visiting her sister, who had a new baby.

  “There wasn’t any damage here at all,” he told her. “All the animals made it through, and I even have electricity. I’m headin’ out west of town now, though. Fella out that way has a couple of cows cut up from flying debris. Heard a radio report that said there were a couple of little tornadoes sighted touching down.”

  Marilee reminded him to call Amy first and let her know he was okay. He had not even thought of that, of course. As she hung up, she scolded herself; she really needed to quit trying to take care of Parker. Let his wife do the job.

  Closing her eyes, she gave thanks that those nearest and dearest, and even those she didn’t even know, were all safe from the storm. What did damaged houses matter? she thought, and she headed for the stairs.

  Glancing through the opened front door, she saw Stuart sitting on the front porch, his head resting back, eyes closed. Willie Lee lay leaning against him, and had fallen asleep, and next to him, Munro had curled. Corrine and Franny sat on the steps with Winston, speaking with Leon and Stella. All safe.

  Quite suddenly Marilee needed to be with Tate and to touch him. She went rapidly to the steps, paused a moment with her hand on the newel post, then started up.

  Hearing the creaking of the stairs, Tate looked over the landing. “Don’t come up…the stairs may be weakened.”

  He didn’t want her to come upstairs. He worried about the stability of the house, and he just didn’t want her to come up,

  But Marilee responded with all logic, “You’re up there,” and kept on coming. “Is my wedding dress okay?”

  He told her it was fine, that her room had not been touched, hoping that might stop her, which was a useless hope, of course. She kept on up the stairs and went straight to the back bedroom she had been using, to the closet to check her dress.

  He turned again to walk back into what was left of the bedroom he had intended to share with her, her voice, filled with relief and delight, floating after him. “Oh, yes, it’s fine. Thank you, God!”

  Tate was thankful, but he was also angry. Standing there in the midst of the wreckage, the anger was winning.

  Marilee appeared behind his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist from the back. He supposed it didn’t matter now that she saw the room; it was all ruined, his surprise, his hope for starting out on the right foot.

  “Oh, Tate, the bed is beautiful!” Marilee said, then hurried over to it, hopping over fallen roof joists to get there. “My gosh, where did you get such a bed?” She gazed at him with wonderment.

  “The bedroom is gone,” he said, just in case she had not noticed.

  With sudden, painful clarity, he realized that he had wanted to be the big man in giving her this room. He didn’t want to look at that notion, and he tried to push it away, but the knowledge washed over him again, and he knew that he had wanted to be to her all that Stuart had not been, just to make sure that he proved to be a better husband.

  “You planned a skylight for us,” she said, sitting down on the plaster- and debris-covered mattress and looking upward.

  He stared at her, at her calm face. Her positive outlook was salt in his wound. He wanted her to be as hurt and outraged as he was.

  Unable to speak of his anger, he kicked a board, and it clattered, but not enough.

  She said, “We’re all okay, Tate. If we’re together, that’s all we need.”

  He did not need her censure, he thought, even as the truth of her words seeped into him.

  He had to tell her. God knew that he could hardly face himself, much less her, but he had to tell her.

  “Marilee, the house isn’t insured.”

  Her eyes rested on him.

  “I put everything into getting the paper off the ground. I’ve been balancin’ money all over, trying to get the Voice goin’ good, and the house insurance has come last. I let it lapse.”

  He had been a fool, and now she would know. She would know he was irresponsible, like Stuart, not taking care of their home. She would be disappointed in him. He was disappointed in himself. He had been reaching further than he could truly and safely reach. Trying to appear bigger and smarter than he was. How could he have let something like this go? He had thought he could gamble for six months, th
at everything would be fine.

  Suddenly he was so tired. He’d been working and planning and balancing to get his newspaper off the ground, to keep all the staff employed and receiving paychecks, and he could no longer keep up the juggling pace.

  Then she was there in front of him, attempting to put her arms around him. That made him angrier. He didn’t want her pity or consolation.

  “We don’t have a house to move to after the wedding.”

  “So what?” she shot back at him.

  He shook his head. “We will probably need to postpone the wedding until I can get us a place to live.”

  Her eyebrow arched. “Until you can find us a place? I thought we were together?”

  “Okay, until we can find a place.” He closed his mouth against the anger that wanted to spew out.

  “We can rent somewhere, Tate. We can pitch a tent in your backyard and cook in your kitchen, if nothing else.”

  He thought her attitude far from realistic. “Be serious. This is Valentine, Marilee…. Empty houses aren’t just waitin’ around, even for rent, and I’m pretty well flat broke.”

  The last echoed inside of him. He had credit, which was already so stretched it was likely to snap back at him. He wanted to knock his head against a wall. He wanted to hit something.

  “I have some money set back. Enough to rent something for a month or so. We’ll find a place. There is no reason to postpone the wedding just because things are not perfect.” She spoke in that reasonable tone again, and he couldn’t stand it.

  “I’m not usin’ your money.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m just not. And you’re not touchin’ Willie Lee’s money.”

  “I would never in this world think of touchin’ Willie Lee’s money. And don’t you point that finger at me, Tate Holloway.”

  He drew back the offending finger and raked a hand through his hair, finally bringing himself to say, “I’m sorry, Marilee. I’m angry at myself, not you. I’m just tryin’ to figure out what in the hell we’re gonna do, since I’ve screwed up so badly.”

  Now she did that chuckling thing and looked at him as if he were a child. She reached for him, taking his face in her hands and gazing into his eyes with her own the pure blue of a clear summer sky.

  “Honey,” she said, speaking slowly, “we’re goin’ to do the best we can. That’s what we’re goin’ to do.”

  He felt himself melting into her eyes.

  “My dearest darlin’,” she said with sweet lips turning upward, “sometimes we humans make choices that don’t quite work out as we planned, because life interferes. I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. Editor, but you are as human as the rest of us. And you are the human man I love. It is not this house I love, but you. I love you and Willie Lee and Corrine, and we are all okay. It is you I want to marry, and you who Willie Lee and Corrine need for a father. We could all live in a tent. Where has your good sense gone to?”

  She loved him. He heard it in her voice, felt it in her hands on his face and saw it in her eyes. It washed over him like a warm wave.

  He wrapped his arms around her then, holding her as if his life depended on it. It seemed to, in that minute. “Oh, lady, you are always a surprise to me,” he said, when he could speak.

  She drew back and looked him in the eye. “I am repeating back to you what you have taught me.”

  And, although it seemed a little egotistical, he knew that was the truth. He chuckled and kissed her neck, savoring the feel and scent of her, and knowing that the biggest mistake he had made in the past minutes was in overlooking that she was on this earth and with him.

  She pushed back and arched an eyebrow. “Is the bed paid for?”

  “No,” he said sadly. “On credit.”

  “Well, let’s try to pay for it before anything else.”

  He threw back his head and laughed hard, and the next instant the skies above opened up and rain poured down.

  Startled, he looked at Marilee, and she looked at him. Her eyes were as lights from her face, shining out through rain that dribbled onto her eyelashes and down her cheeks. He felt it sliding down his face, too.

  There seemed only one thing to do.

  Giving her a courtly bow, then taking her loosely in his arms, he waltzed her around the small space in which they stood, atop the crumbled plaster and between the collapsed boards, to music that only he and Marilee could hear, together.

  Twenty-Eight

  Wonders never cease…

  The rain was short-lived, and sunlight sliced through billowing purple clouds. To the west the dry line was approaching, showing blue sky.

  As the phone at Aunt Vella’s house was out, Marilee and Tate were preparing to walk up to tell her mother the roads were clear and everything was all right. Marilee had begun to worry about her mother, who she thought could have had a heart attack or something because of being so upset by the storm.

  But then here came her mother’s car, Belinda at the wheel, pulling to a halt at the curb. At the same time, from the opposite direction, Aunt Vella and Uncle Perry arrived in Uncle Perry’s big black Cadillac.

  Belinda got out of the car, slammed the door and came across the yard, leaving Marilee’s mother to help Mildred out of the back seat. Marilee hurried out to assist both women. Her mother had on heels that sank in the rain-soaked lawn.

  “Marilee, I’ve got to have some ibuprofen…extra strength,” said her mother, rubbing her head. “I can’t drive home like this. Perry, you do not have any ibuprofen in your cabinets. You don’t hardly have anything at all at your house, and here you are a pharmacist.”

  Perry, whose arms were full with three tubs of ice cream, responded, “I have aspirin. It’s a good medicine.”

  “She was wantin’ a Valium,” Belinda said under her breath. “I could use one.” She took one of the gallons of ice cream from her father and proceeded straight into the house.

  “We have ice cream for everyone,” said Aunt Vella, putting forth two shopping bags full of gallon tubs. “I called the electric company but couldn’t get an answer. There’s no need to let this ice cream ruin. Let’s have a celebration that we’re all still here!”

  Marilee, Aunt Vella and Franny took the ice cream to the kitchen to dish up. Belinda was at the table, eating straight from the container. Looked like Rocky Road.

  The kitchen, too, was as if nothing at all had occurred upstairs or in the neighborhood, except for the lack of electricity. Marilee kept switching on the light switches by habit, which illustrated how dependent she was upon light. Aunt Vella told how when she was a girl, they used only daylight in the houses, because their form of lighting was the kerosene lamp, and no one would be using that during the day. Franny echoed the same sentiments and tales.

  Listening to the women’s voices, Marilee again felt gratitude fill her heart. She hoped that when everything got back to normal, she would not forget the lesson of what was truly important in this world, although, she probably would from time to time, and have to be reminded. She sure hoped that it wouldn’t take a crisis to remind her, though, Lord. Just a gentle whisper would be fine.

  “Here, Mama…I thought strawberry was your favorite,” she said when she returned to the porch, handing her mother the bowl.

  Her mother’s eyes jumped, and for a moment their eyes met. “Why, yes, thank you, dear,” said her mother, who sat a little straighter in the porch chair and smiled.

  She handed Stuart a bowl of the vanilla and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  He gave her a wink. “Still my favorite,” he said and their eyes held each other’s for a brief instant.

  “Do you want a pillow?” she asked, concerned about his bony body sitting on the porch floor.

  “Don’t baby me, Marilee,” he said, averting his eyes and spooning the softening ice cream.

  As she headed back through the screen door, she heard her mother say, “My, this just hits the spot, Vella. Thank you for bringing this ice cream. The best thing in a crisis is
to do something very normal and even festive.”

  Wonders never cease, Marilee thought, so startled by her mother’s compliment to her aunt that she paused in midstride. A tornado did a lot of damage to material things, but perhaps it unleashed true good feelings inside people.

  In the kitchen, Belinda was still sitting with her gallon of ice cream, and she had found the chocolate syrup in the cabinet. She offered some to Marilee. “I imagine you could use this,” she said.

  Marilee was overcome with tender feelings and hugged Belinda, saying, “I’m so glad we’re all here.”

  “Me, too,” Belinda said, holding the syrup can up to Marilee.

  “I am here.”

  Marilee turned to see her son, with Munro beside him, gazing at her with sleepy eyes. She scooped him up, something she had not done in a long time, as he was growing so heavy, and danced around the room until he giggled. “Yes, you are here, and I am so glad,” she said.

  “We want ice cream,” he said. “I want cherry, and Mun-ro wants vanilla, please.”

  “And you shall have it, my prince.”

  She sent him back out to the porch with a dish of cherry for himself and a dish of vanilla for Munro. Then she proceeded to spoon Rocky Road for herself from Belinda’s container, and to spoon the syrup in hefty measure over it.

  “Come join us outside, Belinda.”

  Belinda looked startled at the invitation, then came along.

  The voices of those gathered on the porch floated to her as she walked the length of the hallway. It was a comforting sound. She wondered vaguely where she would sleep that night, but the fact did not seem very important. Nothing seemed too important next to seeing Tate’s eyes meet hers and Willie Lee’s head bent over his ice cream and Corrine licking her spoon.

  Just then she heard a young voice calling, “Willie Lee! Willie Lee!”

  It was Ricky Dale, pedaling hard on his bike, up the curb and across the yard, with his black dog bounding behind him.

  He stopped on the walkway and beheld everyone sitting around the front porch and on the steps. “Willie Lee, you…got t’ come.” That was all he could get out, because he was gasping for breath.