Focused

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  Avery chuckled. “I guess I can’t be guilty of that. I’m a widow.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Accord registered in his face. “I understand. A loss is a loss.”

  She smiled back. “Yes, I guess it is. Pain’s the same.”

  Bud nodded and cleared his throat. “This is Jamie, Jonathan and that’s Judy. Wife named them all with the same letter. She thought it was cute. I thought it was confusing. . .”

  * * *

  That night after Bud left, reeking again of aftershave, Jeff pulled his wife aside.

  “Christina, I got to tell ya. I don’t like leaving the house in the morning with you still here. And him.” He nodded to the door from which their guest just exited. He rushed to add, “I trust you. Don’t get me wrong. But something just smells of trouble.”

  “More than that awful aftershave?” she jested. Then, seeing her husband didn’t smile, she continued, “He asked me if he should leave this morning.” She wiped an invisible smudge from the kitchen countertop.

  “Oh? And you said…?”

  “It was his choice.” She scrubbed a little harder.

  “Good God.” His fist slammed next to her. It made her jump. He paced the room a few times. “People are talking. He’s been here over two weeks.”

  “So?” She threw the scrubber in the sink, pivoting to look him in the eyes.

  “Don’t play naïve. You’re too old.” He waggled her finger at her.

  “And don’t you, Jeff Willis, think perhaps you should stand up for your wife, and your marriage, instead of listening to idle gossip?” She whisked past him and down the hall. She slammed the guest bathroom door for effect.

  Christina ran the bathtub water, trying to ignore the lingering aftershave smell in the room. Or his brush and razor near the sink. Yes, Bud raised her blood pressure. Yes, she could kick Jeff at times, but lately he was trying. They had a quarter of a century together. They had a son. They had something worth preserving, or recovering. But, Bud made her heart leap. Secretly, she had to admit he’d always had.

  Darn them both. Maybe she should leave and let them duke it out. Wait for the police call. Let them clean up the bloody mess and arrest whoever remained standing.

  That cabin beckoned, except what would she say to the Owens? Angela had a guest room. Harriet did, too. But neither of them tolerated cats. She couldn’t leave her babies and expect the men to clean their boxes or give them fresh water. Did she have any PTO time left? Could she take off?

  Oh, what am I thinking? The woman slumped onto the edge of the tub and cried. Out of the corner of her tears she saw the door creep open and two size 11’s enter. She couldn’t will herself to look up at her husband’s face. He sat next to her on the narrow cold porcelain, reached behind her and turned off the water.

  “Not this time, hon. You aren’t crying alone.” He softly said. “Come here. I want my wife back.”

  That did it. Darn him. Heck with Bud. She fell into her husband’s chest and sobbed. After a few minutes she wiped he eyes with his shirt.

  “This is becoming a habit, isn’t it Jeff?” So is cussing, even if only in my mind. I never used to do that.

  The third heartfelt talk in two months began, each in a way jumpstarted by Bud’s presence. This one ended up in the tub amidst lemongrass bubbles, their clothes strewn on the floor.

  “Any idea when our guest will be back?” Jeff played with the bubbles under her chin. “This could get a little awkward.” He looked around the 1960’s green and pink tile encased tub.

  “Water’s getting cold anyway. You hungry?” She stretched and grabbed a towel from the rack above their heads, stepped out, shook a bubbly foot, then wrapped the terrycloth around her. She opened the door to the cabinet and got her husband a towel.

  Grabbing her clothes she slipped out. “See you in a minute,” she called back through the door. “Grilled cheese okay?”

  Later, they were curled up on the couch watching a cable movie when the front door creaked open. Boots resounded on the hardwood floors and stopped at the threshold to the den.

  Jeff craned his head. “Hey, Bud. You have a good time?”

  “Yes, Dad.” The reply came, emphasizing the parental part mockingly. “What are you two still doing up?” But the afterglow on their faces answered his question. He cleared his throat. He’d also gotten his answer to the question posed in the kitchen the morning before.

  “Avery’s really nice. We had a good time. Went to her son’s baseball game.”

  Christina didn’t react. She coolly asked, “Who won?”

  “The other team did. We consoled him with ice cream.”

  Jeff played with the ring on Christina’s left hand. “Glad you had a good time, my friend,” a ‘by-the-way, so-did-we’ was implied in his tone.

  Their guest took the hint. “Well, goodnight, folks.” He knew when to leave.

  Jeff winked at Christina and nodded toward the hall bath. “Think it still smells like lemongrass in there?”

  She reached up to brush his cheek with her lips. “I hope so.”

  Jeff’s lips curled into a Cheshire Cat grin.

  Chapter 38 Budding Romance

  Her computer’s calendar reminded Christina of her turn for Altar Guild. She called her team to meet on Saturday, usual time. Betty was out of town. That left just her and Mary Ellen. Feeling the awkwardness between them, she decided to keep it level. Show her how to do things, keep the conversation light. Mary Ellen obliged.

  But whatever had begun to bud, pun intended, between the two old friends during the flood was obviously a distant memory of much ado about nothing in Bud’s mind.

  Bud actually turned out to be a wonderful houseguest. He was polite, cleaned up after himself, and Jeff seemed to finally enjoy his company. Some of the old friendship, briefly tarnished by an unresolved romance squelched once over thirty years ago and once a few days ago, now had returned shiny and like new. Christina was able to relax and actually enjoy having her old Bud around.

  “Water under…” he had said. The bridge back to their friendship was solidified again, after all those years. Glad they went through the process, Christina now began to understand why they both had needed to do that. A lot of healing had gone on under her roof over the past month.

  Her and Jeff’s marriage definitely lay on a better road. She put the mourning of her dad in perspective, and though she missed him and her mother as well, she felt they were finally resting in peace. She and Carrie discussed it on the phone, both realizing the first anniversary of her mother’s death loomed right after Christina’s fiftieth birthday in a few weeks.

  “How do you feel about not having Mom around for your big birthday? I mean, are you okay?” Carrie asked.

  “I am now. A few weeks ago, probably not. I am working through it.”

  “What? Turning fifty or not having Mom to arrange it all?”

  “Both. And she would have, wouldn’t she?” Christina chuckled. Leave it to Carrie to brighten the subject.

  “Oh, yeah. Just like she did mine,” her sister responded. That had been a gala event. Engraved invitations, navy on baby blue in a calligraphy font with a silver pre-tied bow in the crease. Catered appetizers from the posh new bistro, fully tended bar, chamber music quartet. Carrie would have preferred pepperoni pizza and beer with some Moody Blues or Dylan.

  “You know, Jeff hasn’t mentioned it,” the younger sister replied, trying not to let her emotions get in the way. She folded towels, phone cocked on her shoulder. They had been left in the dryer. Not like Avery to be absent minded. Christina hadn’t noticed them for a few days, but an old damp wash cloth and extra fabric softener sheet while they flopped around in the dryer for ten minutes freshened them. “But he’s been really swamped with something.”

  “He’ll come through. So will Josh.” Her elder sister advised. “How’s it going with Bud?” Sudden switch of subject, a veer into lesser traffic. But Carrie’s mind often took a side route.

  “Bud seem
s to be less of a wounded puppy and more of the old Bud I always remembered. He seems more sure of himself and is laughing more.” Christina reported.

  “Good. I don’t think that would work in my house.” Her sister humphed.

  “He and Jeff seem to be getting along, but I can’t help but notice there’s still a bit of tension there. Maybe it ‘s just two males in the same territory.”

  “Yeah, and you are the territory.”

  Christina gasped. “Carrie!”

  “So, tell me about this maid.” Carrie dodged another oncoming collision in their conversation.

  “My house never looked so clean. The girl works hard for her money, and even after several weeks, the job is still excellent. And, she’s dating Bud.”

  Christina heard the phone clunk to the ground on her sister’s end.

  * * *

  Avery was healing. Christina gave Bud some of the credit for that. Her anger over her husband’s untimely and senseless death dissipated. She wrote to his killer, now incarcerated in the State Pen, and also to his wife and kids. They were all victims of violence, Avery told her when she showed Christina the letter. The maid wanted her employer to preview it before she mailed it off. Christina admired her strength and told her so. She told her about her pastor and the lessons he learned by forgiving the drunk driver.

  Sometimes Christina would find a Bible verse or a little note from Avery. She started leaving some for her to find. It became a game between them. A new version of an Easter egg hunt. A game of mutual love and respect between sisters in spirit, both recovering from losing someone dear. Their friendship blurred the lines between employer and employee. But there was a time to redraw it in the sand. And the time was now.

  “You have to talk to her about this, you know.” Jeff warned as he grabbed his ice tea and the remote. “Tomorrow.”

  “I know. I guess.”

  “You guess?” The sternness in his voice reminded her of the math teacher she endured in seventh grade with his demeaning, aloof, ‘we’ve-been-over-this-so why-don’t-you-know-it’ tone.

  “Okay. I’ll broach the subject when she comes this week to clean.” And enjoy it as much as getting a root canal. Christina picked up her stitchery and pretended to count the cross-stitches.

  “Gooood,” he drawled. A rustle of the evening paper ended the conversation in a hard period. Sarcasm dripped off the sports section as a footnote.

  The next morning when she arrived, Christina prayerfully broached the subject they’d never discussed—Bud being there when Avery came to clean while she and Jeff were at work.

  “What does Bud do when you’re here?” She tried to make it sound like idle curiosity.

  Avery didn’t miss a beat. “Not anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

  Christina felt immediately embarrassed. “Oh, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I know you are doing your job. You do a great job.”

  “You have every right to ask. I am on your clock and he is your guest, and old friend.”

  “Avery, I am sorry. It’s just, well, getting complicated.”

  The woman leaned on the kitchen counter and a grin etched across her cheeks. “I know.”

  Then she popped back into employee mode. “But it won’t be for long. He’s decided to leave.”

  Thud. The news hit the floor and shattered across Christina’s mind. “He is? When?”

  The woman looked at her employer with wide innocent eyes. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  A voice sounded behind her. “Surprise.”

  He went over, and openly pecked Avery on the cheek.

  Christina looked away. “I gotta get going,” she muttered.

  “I’ve got something in the works, Chris. I’ll tell you to about it tonight. I am leaving your house, but not Allensville. Kinda getting to like the scenery here.” He smiled at Avery.

  Avery blushed.

  Christina left, purse and keys clenched in her hand and nausea in her throat.

  At lunch her ears were still steaming. Why that man riled her nerves she’d never understand. And if he hurt Avery, she’d kill him, bud or no.

  “I can’t take it,” she whined to Angela and Sandy as they walked to the deli down the street. People pushed pass them, everyone in a hurry to be somewhere else.

  “ ‘Scuse you, Mister,” Angela called back over her shoulder. “What ever happened to chivalry?”

  Sandy stopped. Christina had also, several paces behind. She and Angela backtracked to their coworker who was looking in the window of a shop, seeing their rippled reflections grow bigger. “What ya see?’

  Absentmindedly, Christina stared ahead into the darkened glass. “A big fat idiot. Me.” Then she spun on her heels. Her nostrils flared. “Why can’t my husband and my best friend share my life? And why can’t he date my maid?” Five people stopped in their tracks and stared.

  “Oh, boy” Angela reached in her purse and pulled out a twenty. “Sandy, you go get sandwich boxes. Egg salad if they have it. And baked chips. We’ll be over there, on the bench.” She grabbed Christina’s elbow and dragged her towards the fountain in the park. One black wrought iron bench lay empty and waiting for three hineys to huddle in girl talk.

  That evening, Bud had begun to fix dinner by the time Christina walked in the door. The house smelled clean. Avery’s touch definitely lingered—on Bud’s face as well, from the look of his grin. Christina set her keys down.

  “What’s this?” A bubbly aroma filled the kitchen when the oven door opened.

  “Chicken Divan. Alice used to make it.” He dug the casserole out of the depths of the dark speckled self-cleaning oven, his hands wrapped in a dish towel. Sizzling splatter drops of sauce sloshed over the sides of the casserole dish. Christina made a mental note to program the cleaning cycle to begin after they went to bed.

  The garage door whirred and she heard Jeff’s car engine. “Good,” Bud nodded. “I can tell you both the good news.”

  Jeff set his keys on the hook by the door. He nodded at them. “What smells good?”

  “Bud’s cooking Chicken Divan. He has news.” Christina raised her eyebrows in silent communication. Jeff nodded back.

  “Table’s all set. You both go on in. I’ll bring it in there to serve in a minute.” Bud wiped his hand on the dish towel stuck in his belt. He grabbed a serving spoon out of the drawer and handed it to Christina. “Here. Can ya take this?”

  In the dining room, the table glistened with her grandmother’s fine china . . . and her twenty year-old, slightly bent everyday stainless cutlery. “Oh, well, the guy tried.”

  “Maybe Avery helped him set it.” Jeff sat at the head of the table and flipped his knife back and forth. “Exactly what is this about?”

  His wife shrugged. “Haven’t got a clue. Avery knows but I couldn’t pry it out of her.”

  “So, you two talked, huh? Good girl.” Jeff looked up and nodded. “We’ll soon find out,” he whispered. “Here comes the master chef.”

  Bud placed the casserole on the trivet and sat down, almost. Then he snapped his fingers and bounced back up like a Jack-in-the-box. “Rolls.”

  Jeff groaned. Christina kicked his shin under the table.

  They waited patiently until Bud returned with a basket of bread, said Grace and motioned for them to hand over their plates. He scooped the fixings onto each, and passed them back before saying, “I found a job. Right here in Allensville.”

  Jeff froze, fork in mouth. Christina twisted the napkin in her lap with a forced wide-eyed smile. “Wow. Tell us about it.”

  Bud obliged—non-stop, for the next fifteen minutes. Avery’s brother owned a rental shop two miles out of town towards the highway. His wife just had a baby and he needed more time with her. Business was picking up, so he needed a full time salesperson. One who knew about farming equipment, construction machinery and the like. Bud did.

  “Good pay?” Jeff inquired, leaning back, arms crossed.

  “Not bad, plus comm
ission. Enough to squeak by. It’ll grow. It’s a franchise. Who knows, in a year or so, maybe I can open a branch of my own. This is closer to Maw and Paw than Houston, that’s for sure.”

  “Less muggy, too.” Christina piped in, trying to sound positive.

  Bud nodded and put down his fork. “Here’s the catch. I don’t get paid until the fifteenth. Then I can get my own place. That’s ten more days. Can you two put me up for that long?”

  Jeff smirked. “You mean put up with you?” Another kick in the shin.”Ouch!”

  “Of course, Bud. We’d be happy to.” Christina spoke to her friend, but eyed her husband. “Right, Jeff?”

  Jeff yielded. “Sure. Just kidding, Bud. Happy to oblige. And congrats.” He laid his napkin on the table, half stood and stretched his hand over the centerpiece. Male gesture of no-hard-feelings.

  Bud shook it twice. None taken.

  “I found an apartment just beyond the tracks heading west. One bedroom. It will be available in a week or so. They have to redo the carpet. The last owner evidently had an incontinent dog.”

  Christina looked at Jeff, who tried not to choke on his last bite. They both knew the complex he referred to.

  “I put a deposit down today.”

  “Bud, get it back. The owner’s got a bad rep,” Jeff warned.

  “New owner, Jeff.” Bud held up a finger to correct him.”I checked it out. Avery’s brother, Tim, knows him. Went to school together. Anyway, he bought the place at auction. Foreclosure. He’s fixed up the place. New appliances. Re-landscaped. Kicked out some of the deadbeats.”

  “Really?” Jeff leaned forward and crossed his elbows on the table. “I hadn’t heard about that. Had you, hon?”