A Different Kind of Blues

by Gwynne Forster

  The doctor stood, extended his hand, and smiled. “You look wonderful, Ms. Fields. I don’t have any news for you, good or bad, but I have to examine you before I release you. We’ll take a lot of tests today, and I should have the results by tomorrow morning. If we don’t find anything, you may go home.”

  “That’s nice, Dr. Hayes, but I didn’t book a hotel room for tonight, and my ticket is for a six o’clock plane back to Baltimore.”

  He fingered his chin, obviously searching for a solution. “Then I’ll check you into the hospital. Give me your plane ticket. With a doctor’s certificate, we can get that changed without cost, and if you want to telephone anyone back in Ellicott City, speak to my secretary. Go down to admissions, and then come back here. All right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After getting admitted, she stopped at the newsstand, purchased papers, magazines, and a bag of miniature Snickers, and went back to the doctor’s office.

  Mark Hayes looked from Petra’s small suitcase to her and back to the luggage. “You’d better leave that here until we get you a room. We’ll get the MRI and CAT scan first; then we’ll do some blood tests. Later, I’ll check your equilibrium. Okay?”

  Petra agreed. At the end of the day, with the tests behind her, exhaustion prevented her from reading, so she watched television for a few minutes and fell asleep. After breakfast the next morning, she dressed, packed her bag, and waited for Dr. Hayes. As promised, he walked into her room at nine o’clock.

  “You’re in great shape,” he said, “and you shouldn’t have any problems. It’s a job I’m proud of. I understand Dr. Barnes is suing that laboratory. I sent him an affidavit.”

  “Oh, dear. I may need one, too.”

  “Your lawyer—Lyons, is it—has been in contact with me, and I’ll send him a copy of my final report on this case. You’re discharged.”

  “Thank you so much, Doctor. By the way, I haven’t received a bill from you or from the hospital.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s taken care of.” He shook hands with her. “Your case will be reported in a medical journal, but your identity will be protected. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, indeed. Good-bye, Dr. Hayes, and thanks again.”

  Before Petra could get her keys out of her pocketbook, her mother opened the door. “Well, what happened? I don’t see no reason why you had to go back there in such a hurry. You sure you went to see the doctor?”

  Petra dropped her suitcase beside the door. Nothing ever changed with Lena Fields. “Hi, Mama. The doctor took a lot of tests, and he’s satisfied that I healed up all right. He released me. I’m fine.”

  Lena picked up Petra’s bag as if to take it upstairs, but dropped it and fastened her knuckles to her hips. “Who was that man that called here last night? And after midnight, too.”

  The hair on Petra’s hair crackled as if electrified. “How would I know, Mama? Did you get his name?”

  “I didn’t need his name, waking me up after midnight, and I have to get up at six o’clock. ‘Is Miz Petra Fields there?’” She mimicked him, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “I told him I’m her mother, and don’t call here after midnight again.”

  Petra picked up the suitcase and headed up the stairs to her room. Winston didn’t know how to find her, so she didn’t care who had called. She suspected the witness at the Hobart trial of having located her name and address with the intention of making a nuisance of himself. If he persisted, she would report him.

  “I guess I can go on back home,” Petra’s mother called up to her. “I need to do my uniforms. Did I tell you that Reverend Collins wants you to call him? Lord bless him; he’s a good man. Thank goodness your head healed up all right. Hug Krista for me; she was real good. I’ll call you.”

  The front door slammed, and Petra breathed deeply in relief. She loved her mother, and she had never doubted that Lena loved her, but she couldn’t understand why such a rigid perspective on right and wrong colored everything her mother did and said, even when it had to do with her own child. She learned fairness, honesty, and kindness from her mother, but few people who knew Lena would believe it. They saw Lena Fields as a rigid and judgmental woman.

  She had wondered more than once if her mother’s hard take on life came before or after Lena conceived her only child. Maybe Lena had become bitter when her husband deserted her for her best friend. She’d probably never know the answer.

  Petra fried the catfish that her mother had stored in the refrigerator, baked cornbread, and steamed string beans. Krista arrived from work as she finished setting the table.

  Krista ran to her. “Mom! You’re back. You all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she told her excited daughter. “Dr. Hayes thinks he did a perfect job. I don’t have to go back.”

  Krista hugged Petra and kissed her cheek. “Cool. I was scared. Feeling that real deep. Guess what, Mom.”

  “What?” Krista always began an important piece of news with “guess what.”

  “Miss Carla called me and invited me to Daddy’s surprise birthday party Saturday evening. She’s sending Peter—he’s sixteen—to get me in her car, and she said I’m not to breathe a word of it to Daddy. I said yes, but she’s gonna call and ask you if it’s all right.”

  Petra nearly spilled a dish of string beans. “Are you making this up?”

  “No, ma’am. She surprised me, too. I didn’t mark her down as miss Warm and Friendly, but she was real nice on the phone.”

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few months, it’s not to judge people solely on the basis of what you can see. Remember that she’s your stepmother.”

  “Yeah. You told me. It’s funny having a stepmother. Some of my friends have them, but that’s because their parents are divorced, and their dads remarried. Gee, this is weird.”

  About an hour after they finished supper, Petra answered the telephone and heard Carla Prout’s voice for the first time. The woman repeated her invitation to Krista.

  “This is a very nice gesture on your part, Mrs. Prout,” Petra said, “and I appreciate it.”

  “It’s the right thing to do. Goodman loves Krista, and all of his children should be with him on his birthday. Thank you for allowing her to come.”

  “It wouldn’t occur to me to say no. I’m happy that they’re developing a healthy, father-daughter relationship.”

  “So am I, Ms. Fields. My son, Peter, will be at your house around five-thirty Saturday.”

  “I presume it’s a dressy affair?”

  “Yes. Thank you for asking. I didn’t know how to broach that to Krista.”

  Petra hung up and knocked on Krista’s door. “That was Carla. She said it’s a dressy affair. I’ll meet you at Dwill’s at five o’clock tomorrow, and we’ll get you a nice dress—one that covers your behind—and some shoes. You need things for school anyway.”

  “Okay, Mom, but can we afford this?”

  “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll get some money when that case is settled. It may not be much, but it will be enough to pay for your clothes.”

  Goodman parked in his garage at exactly seven o’clock that Saturday evening. “Where’re you going?” he asked Paul. His younger son had insisted that he needed a saber jacket and mask for his fencing exhibition match the following Monday morning, and he’d taken him to Baltimore to get them.

  “Nature calls, Dad,” Paul said and dashed into the house.

  Where was everybody? On an early evening in mid-September, his family could usually be found on the deck either roasting something or preparing to eat something that had been roasted. He removed Paul’s fencing gear from the trunk of his Lexus, tried the kitchen door, saw that it was locked, and walked around to the front of his house.

  “Some of the neighbors must be having guests,” he said to himself when he noticed the extra automobiles parked throughout the block. “We used to have parties and friends in occasionally, but Carla isn’t inclined to do that these days. Oh, well.” He l
et out a deep breath and opened the front door.

  “What the…Where’s everybody? What’s this I smell?”

  Suddenly, a camera flashed, then the house came ablaze. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” they sang and crowded around him.

  “What on earth?” he exclaimed, blinking his eyes. And then his children, Peter, Krista, and Paul crowded around him, hugging him and telling him “happy birthday.” He looked through the many faces that he recognized and saw Carla walking toward him. How had he been so foolish? What had possessed him to cheat on her? He’d made only a tiny effort to get their marriage back on track, and she had responded so eagerly. He didn’t bother to wipe his tears. He didn’t think he would ever forgive himself.

  He took his wife into his arms and pressed his lips to her waiting mouth. “Thank you for…for everything, and especially for inviting Krista to celebrate with me along with her brothers. I had expected we’d have a cookout or something.” He hugged her close to his body. “Does Paul really need that fencing gear?” he asked her with a wide grin.

  “Not that I know of,” Carla said. “We can return it next week. Have you noticed what a beautiful young woman Krista is? In that sexy green dress and those spike heels, and with her hair curling around her shoulders, I hardly recognized her.”

  “Peter and Paul aren’t showing any slack,” he said. “They look like gentlemen. Do I have to say something to our guests?”

  “After I start it off, then you may say a few words, but not too many. Everyone’s hungry.”

  Throughout the evening, making small talk with his family and friends, his mind didn’t stray far from the colossal error he’d made with Jada Hankins and what it could one day cost him. Later, after thanking the guests for the surprise and bidding them good night, he prepared to take Krista home. But he discovered that he resented doing it, not because he considered it an inconvenience, but because his children belonged in his home.

  “Don’t even dream it,” he warned himself. “I’ll take you home,” he said to Krista.

  “Oh, not yet, Daddy. Paul, Peter, and I are going to straighten up the kitchen. You got an apron?”

  “We are?” Peter asked, clearly aghast.

  Krista put her hands on his shoulders and turned him toward the kitchen door. “Yes, we are, big brother. Come on, Paul. You, too. Your mama must be half dead already, so we’re not going to dump this on her. Do you have a radio in this kitchen?”

  “Yeah, right over there,” Paul said, pointing to a place on a counter.

  “Good,” Krista said. “Music makes work a lot easier.”

  “I can clean up in the morning,” Carla said.

  “We’ll do it,” Krista told her. “You keep Daddy company.”

  Goodman leaned against the grand piano thinking about his blessings and vowed to stop taking them for granted. Carla joined him, took his hand, and said, “Let’s go sit down. I thought I was something special because I had given my husband two sons and no daughters, but I see that daughters can be wonderful. Maybe the boys will consider helping in the kitchen sometimes.”

  He eased an arm around her waist and hugged her. “If I didn’t already love you, I think I’d fall head-over-heels for you. Let’s work hard at keeping what we’ve found again.” She nestled closer. “I want to, Goodman. I thought I was losing you. I don’t know what brought you back to me, and that’s not what’s important, but I’m happy for it.”

  “I slipped,” he heard himself tell her—as the words sent shock waves through him—“and I’ve deeply regretted it. You and I had a problem, and we treated each other as if that problem wasn’t there. I faced the fact that the way I dealt with it was wrong, dishonorable. I walked away from it, because I have to respect myself.”

  “I know. Is it over?”

  “Absolutely. It barely started. I realized that it wasn’t my style and decided to try and rebuild our relationship.”

  Carla rested her head on his chest. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy again. I helped create the problem, and I’ll do what I can to help solve it. We’re going to be all right.”

  A second after he bent to her eager mouth, he heard Paul say in a voice tinged with mirth, “Hey, you two, break it up. I’m underage, and I’m not supposed to be looking at heavy duty stuff like that.”

  “Leave ’em alone,” Peter said. “Let ’em have fun while they’re still young.”

  “You guys are fresh,” Krista said. “Ready when you are, Daddy.”

  He gazed down at Carla for a second, bent to her lips with what was more a promise than a kiss. “See you later,” he whispered, feeling like a man released from jail and hearing the sound of prison gates slam behind him.

  When she heard Krista’s key in the front door lock, Petra raced to the door. She had spent the evening worrying about the treatment her daughter would receive at her father’s birthday party, and whether Carla may have had an ulterior motive in inviting her.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Great. I met some cool people. Miss Carla was real nice. I mean she was great, Mom. She introduced me as her stepdaughter. My brothers were super, too. Guess what?”

  “What?” Petra asked as they walked to the living room. “I made Peter and Paul help me clean the kitchen after the guests left. They’d never done that before. After they eat, they go sit on their butts while miss Carla cleans up the kitchen. I told them I’d rather have daughters than sons ’cause I always help my mom. We had a good time together while we were cleaning up. I’m going to teach Peter how to do the Electric Slide.”

  Petra released a long breath. “You can’t even imagine how relieved I am. I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Not to worry, Mom. I can hold my own. Mom…I think Daddy ought to stop fooling with Jada. Why do men do things like that?”

  “Are you saying he’s having an affair with her?”

  “I already told you about that. He says there’s nothing between them, but she acts as if she has some special rights with him. I’m not stupid, and I’m going to tell him to stop it, or I’ll tell miss Carla. I have a good mind to tell her anyway.”

  Petra sprang from her seat on the sofa. “For Heaven’s sake, don’t do that, Krista. Don’t ever do a thing like that. You could cause the destruction of that marriage. I’ll be back in a second.”

  She went to the kitchen and got a bottle of lemonade for Krista, a can of ginger ale for herself, and two glasses. “It isn’t easy for me to tell you this, but I see that I have to.” She poured the ginger ale into the glass and took a few sips, not so much because she would enjoy it as to procrastinate. She didn’t relish telling her daughter what she’d done.

  “You remember when I told you the truth about your father. Well, as you know, I did it because I thought I was dying. Reverend Collins told me I had to ask forgiveness of every person I had harmed, mistreated, or hurt in any way.” She swallowed hard and told herself to go on.

  “I’m ashamed to tell you that on one foolish occasion, almost a decade ago, I slept with…with Fred, Ethel’s husband, and—”

  “You what?”

  Petra blew out a long breath. “I’ve already had to deal with enough drama about this, Krista, so let me get to the point, please.”

  Krista found something on the floor to look at. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “Following old man Collins’s advice, I told Ethel about it and asked her to forgive me. Ethel nearly went berserk, poor Fred had to leave home in broad daylight practically nude and holding up his jockey shorts with one hand, and…Listen, Krista, if I’d thought it was funny, I wouldn’t have told you.”

  “Mom, I’ve got this picture of Mr. Fred flying out of the house nude and barefooted, holding up his drawers, his belly hanging out over them, and miss Ethel chasing him with a broom.” She rested her head on the back of the chair and whooped.

  “Krista, my point in telling you this is that if I hadn’t told Ethel about that one time, they would s
till be together. Now, they’re separated, and Ethel is miserable.”

  Krista looked toward the ceiling. “If I’d been married to him—Heaven forbid—I’d have been miserable from the moment I said, ‘I do.’ What could you have been thinking, Mom?”

  “He was the biggest braggart you ever saw. I was twenty, and he must have been thirty-five. I hadn’t been seeing anyone since Goodman and I broke up almost three years earlier, and Fred made me think he could spin the world backward. Turned out he had no idea what he was doing, and I was disgusted with myself. I kept it inside for years. Now, they’re on the outs, and Ethel and I will never be the friends we once were.”

  Krista got up, collected what remained from their drinks, and took it to the kitchen. “Miss Ethel shouldn’t feel too badly, Mom. I’ve seen at least two men over at her house when Mr. Fred was at work, and they usually stayed long enough to create a little mischief. Haven’t seen that recently, though; actually not since I was about thirteen. Gotta go get some shut-eye. ’Nite.”

  “Wait, Krista. I told you that, because I don’t want you to do or say anything that will break up Goodman and Carla. She’d be miserable if she knew that, and her pride would make her leave him, or more likely, she would ask him to leave her and their children.”

  She stood and grasped Krista’s shoulders. “Please don’t mention this to Carla. You can say anything to your father that he allows when the two of you are alone, but not in the presence of anyone else. And whatever you do, don’t breathe it to his sons.”

  “Okay, I won’t, but if I catch her sidling up to him again, I’m going to give both of them a piece of my mind.”

  “Be careful, Krista. Never overplay your hand. Love doesn’t cover everything, and you never know when you’ve crossed the line until you get a shock.”

  Krista’s face sagged, reminding Petra of three-year-old Krista’s response when told that she couldn’t have more candy, ice cream, or lemonade. “It’s for the best, honey,” Petra said.

  “He acts like he loves Carla. How can he fool with Jada?”