Love in a Small Town

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  “A man can do a lot of things, with the correct motivation. I think yesterday was a prime example of that.”

  Molly didn’t know what to say. This was Tommy Lee, talking to her like this?

  “Well, I just called to wish you good mornin’,” he said. “And to let you know what you are missin’. You have a good day.”

  “You, too, Tommy Lee,” she said at first faintly, ending ardently.

  Molly slowly replaced the receiver. Her heart beat rapidly. She went into the kitchen, got a glass of water, and dribbled it onto the tiny rose bush. With the tip of one finger, she touched the edge of a blossom and gazed at it.

  He had called her. Her heart swelled and she felt a tremendous smile all over. Oh, my, he had called her.

  She had to wonder why he had never done this when she had been home . . . never gotten her breakfast or suggested sex first thing in the morning. She had. She had worn a sexy nightgown and asked him to have breakfast with her, and he was always too busy.

  Mama used to say that it was up to a woman to make a man chase her. Molly never had understood that, never had cared for the attitude. Why would people need to play games? Also, she had been with Tommy Lee since way before the age of chasing; he never had had to go looking for her. She had always been hanging on to him.

  She thought all this as she set the rose bush into the morning sunlight on the back step. She stood there, looking out over the trees and pasture.

  Was she making Tommy Lee chase her now? she wondered. Was that all this was? She didn’t like the idea. Well, maybe she did, a little bit. It made her feel vibrant, powerful. So much a woman.

  She didn’t have much faith in it, though. What would happen once the chasing stopped? That was the trouble with playing games. It was much better all around to be open and know exactly where one stood. But this was fun. And maybe it was good for Tommy Lee, too. Was that what Mama had meant?

  * * * *

  Mama knew! She had not even been home when Tommy Lee had come the evening before, but she knew that Molly had had sex with him.

  “It shows,” Mama said airily. “After a woman has had a wondrous affair, the emotion makes her glow. For you to glow like that, it had to be Tommy Lee, because he is the man you want so badly.” Her eyes twinkled, and she added, “Besides, I came home from Wichita Falls and saw Tommy Lee’s Corvette here. I left, so I wouldn’t inhibit you two. Still, it shows on you, always does after a woman has been . . ."

  Molly jolted up straight. “Mama, I really don’t want to talk basic with you.”

  Mama shrugged. “I know all about it, Molly. You won’t shock me.”

  Molly knew virtually nothing would shock her mother; her mother had long ago perfected not being shocked.

  They were having breakfast in Mama’s kitchen. Molly had brought over her brewed coffee, and together they made toast, neither feeling like running up to Hardee’s. The days were growing so warm that even the mornings dawned sticky and lazy.

  “I could go home now,” Molly said. “Tommy Lee would like me to.”

  Her mother raised an eyebrow and waited.

  “He’s payin’ me attention now, but after I was home a few days, everything would fall back into the same pattern. I don’t want that. I want to get an understanding.”

  “It’s been my experience that the ground for understanding between men and women is poor,” Mama said dryly. “The best way for us to go is accepting. Then one doesn’t wear oneself out tryin’ to understand. One has more energy left over for accommodating accepted facts.”

  Molly thought about that. “I don’t know if I can accommodate. I have tried, and I really want to. It just doesn’t seem like either Tommy Lee or I can, and in tryin’ we seem to be makin’ both of our lives miserable. Maybe it’s best that Tommy Lee and I live apart.”

  In truth, Molly had been giving the idea more and more serious thought. She rather liked not having to pick up after anyone but herself, and not even that if she didn’t want to, and doing what she liked when she liked.

  Mama shook her head. “Not you two.”

  “Mama, all my life I’ve looked to Tommy Lee to make me happy. And I’ve spent most of my life thinkin’ that if Tommy Lee leaves me, I’ll die. That’s a burden for any man . . . and it isn’t how I want to live the remainder of my life.”

  She looked at her mother, trying to understand her own confusion. It was like opening a cabinet door and searching inside on dim, crowded shelves.

  “Mama, I have spent all my life twisting myself around, trying to be what I thought Tommy Lee wanted me to be. He has never asked me to do that—I have just done it automatically, for whatever reason. Well, I can’t do that any longer, and I can’t go on thinkin’ he’s all that will make me happy, either. I have to find what I need inside myself. Tommy Lee can’t give it to me. And for some reason I can’t find it when I’m livin’ with him, because I keep expectin’ him to provide it, and he keeps tryin', because he thinks he should provide everything for me.” Then she added, “And when I’m alone, I’m sort of content. I’m not expecting things from him and continually bein’ disappointed.”

  Mama sighed, a deep, sad sigh. “Molly, I did this very thing with Stirling.”

  She shut her mouth tight and looked past Molly’s shoulder, and Molly was startled to see regret in her mother’s face. She wasn’t certain she had ever seen regret in her mother’s face. At least not so profoundly.

  Mama’s hand laid softly over Molly’s. “Honey, men leave us sooner or later, because we usually outlive them. Until then the best we can do is give what we can and enjoy it and take what a man can give and enjoy that. The sad times, well, honey you just have to let them fly away.’’

  She averted her eyes and rose. “Molly, I’m content living alone, but I’m often lonely. Sometimes I’m so lonely.” Her voice shook, and Molly stared at her profile as her mother gazed out the window.

  “Is it better to be lonely alone, Mama . . . or lonely with the person you love livin’ right in the house with you?”

  Molly searched her mother’s pale eyes. Her mother breathed deeply and shook her head.

  “I don’t know, honey. I really have no answer to that. Except to say that both times come into a life. And with someone you love, with a good man—and Tommy Lee is a good man—there will be times you are not only not lonely, but are filled to the brim.”

  She gestured with her graceful hand, and her face lit with ardent memories. Then she focused an eye on Molly. “When you are alone, there are few of those times. At least for we mortal women. I don’t know about saints,” she added offhandedly, bringing her coffee cup to her lips.

  Molly had known her mother was a woman of passion, but she had never known it so deeply as she did right then. It was a little disconcerting, as was seeing the longing in her mother’s eyes when she said Stirling’s name. After all these years.

  That afternoon, Molly drove out to the house to see Tommy Lee. She wore a soft rayon dress that she had not worn much, so it wouldn’t be too familiar to him, piled her hair up off her neck, and wore her shoes with the ribbons tied up the ankle. It was easy to use updating the accounts on the computer that JoEllen had returned and set up two days earlier as an excuse.

  Tommy Lee was busy with a customer, who had just brought in an engine. The customer looked at Molly. She wasn’t certain about Tommy Lee. She very casually waved a file of papers at him and went on inside. It was really silly to be disappointed. Silly to have visions of flirting and falling into mad love on the workbench. She was the one who wanted to learn to live without him. Maybe she wanted to live by herself and have mad love on the workbench occasionally.

  She stood for a second just inside the door. She hadn’t noticed that her own house had a scent. It closed around her, making her almost start crying. She went to the counter and ran her hand along it. Tommy Lee had always been neat, but a man rarely wiped the counter when it needed it.

  The office chair seemed to have a giant spring
on it that popped her up every five or ten minutes to go look out the window and see if Tommy Lee’s customer had left. The man stayed long enough to be charged rent. Finally he was gone, but Tommy Lee didn’t come in. When he didn’t come and didn’t come, Molly went out to find him.

  He was changing a rear tire on the El Camino. “You almost had a flat,” he said, straightening and setting aside his tools. “And I added a quart of oil, too.”

  He looked at her, and she looked at him.

  She said, “Thank you.”

  “I don’t mind doin’ it.”

  “I don’t mind doin’ the records.”

  “I know.” His eyes were asking her if she wanted to have sex. He was flirting with her.

  Molly fumbled for the door handle. “I’ve got to get back. Gib Henderson wants to see me when he gets off work. He’s bein’ audited.”

  “Okay.” Tommy Lee wiped his hands on a rag.

  Molly let herself be carried away with her emotions and went over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. His arms came to her waist, and he returned the kiss ardently.

  They drew apart and gazed at each other.

  “I like takin’ care of you, Molly,” Tommy Lee said, and she saw the words coming from deep inside him, as if he’d had to wring them out of himself. “Maybe I need to do that. Maybe that’s my need, and I don’t care to analyze it the way you do.”

  She caressed the hair at the back of his neck. “I like for you to take care of me, Tommy Lee. . . . I need it. I always have. Just because I have an office in town or a separate checking account doesn’t change that.”

  His eyes held her for a long minute, and then he nodded. They broke slowly apart, their eyes lingering on each other. Questioning and promising at the same time.

  As Molly backed out of the drive, she saw Tommy Lee through the glare of the windshield. He stood there, strong arms hanging at his side, staring after her.

  Well, that was something.

  * * * *

  While Tommy Lee thought he was catching on to what was going on between him and Molly, he still found himself feeling as if he were hanging out in the wind. Who he wished he could talk to about it all was Sam.

  He’d never been one to stay mad long, and now Tommy Lee really missed Sam. Obviously Molly wasn’t sleeping with Sam, and she didn’t appear to be in love with him, either, so there seemed to be little point in Tommy Lee staying mad at him.

  It seemed odd to miss a man who desired his wife. He’d known all these years that Sam was attracted to Molly, and he’d ignored it, just as he’d said, because Sam meant so much to him. Sam had always been the brother Tommy Lee never had. Since his anger had cooled, Tommy Lee had even begun to feel vaguely guilty about keeping Molly from Sam. He knew Sam hurt because of it. Not that he would hand Molly over to Sam, even if he could, but he felt badly for Sam. There was no way he could speak of any of this to Sam, but he still did want to make up with his best friend.

  Tommy Lee decided to go to Rodeo Rio’s and take a chance on running into Sam. That way he could approach him casually. As things turned out, this worked quite well; it appeared Sam was of the same mind because he came in and stood staring at Tommy Lee.

  Tommy Lee said, “I’ll bet you a beer on a game of pool,” and Sam said, “I’ll bet you two beers,” and took up a cue, and it was all settled. Tommy Lee was greatly relieved.

  After they each had had a couple of beers and run through a couple of games, Sam said, “Have you talked to Molly the past couple of days?”

  “Yes, I have. She was out at the house this afternoon, as a matter of fact.” Tommy Lee wanted to let Sam know that he and Molly were no longer quite so split. He knocked two of his balls into pockets and cocked an eyebrow at Sam. “Have you?”

  “Not since Monday,” Sam said. “She told me she didn’t want to see me.”

  Tommy Lee paused, then knocked a ball in the corner pocket. He straightened and said, “So you sent her roses?” He had forgiven Sam, but he found he was still a bit annoyed.

  Sam gave a small grin. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’. Especially for Molly.”

  Tommy Lee thought Sam should not be frank about it all and didn’t respond to the comment. He still wondered what had happened to the roses but decided not to speak of it. After all, he was the one winning with Molly.

  “So, what are you gonna do?” Sam asked. “She loves you, you horse’s ass.”

  “We’re workin’ on it,” Tommy Lee said and chalked his cue.

  Sam said, “The problem for you two is that you never had to court each other. You’ve simply always been together. You always had Molly hangin’ on your every word, and you had a kid before you even got out of your teens. Molly’s woke up and is missin’ what she never had.”

  “I said I’m workin’ on it.” Tommy Lee missed his shot and gave the table over to Sam. He was annoyed at Sam now for acting as if he understood what was going on between him and Molly. He might have thought of getting advice from Sam, but he hadn’t asked for any.

  Sam said that Tommy Lee had to be more romantic. “Get her some perfume. Expensive. And go up to the mall and buy her a sexy nightgown. Better yet—go down to one of those exclusive stores in Dallas and get her one."

  Tommy Lee thought how he could count on one hand the number of times he had been to a mall. He did not see the lure. Too many people to suit him. Molly used to ask him to go, but she gave that up and went with her mother or sisters. She hadn’t asked him to go with her in a long time.

  “You’ve got to work at it, Tommy Lee. You can’t just let romance go. That’s the main mistake of the human race. People just let themselves get bored.”

  “Sam, you’ve been divorced twice.”

  “And believe me, I learned from my mistakes.”

  Annette, holding up the telephone, called to Tommy Lee from the bar. “Sounds like Molly.”

  Startled, Tommy Lee hurried over. It wasn’t like Molly to call after him. She had always said to call around after him appeared tacky.

  “Tommy Lee?” The line crackled with static, as it did sometimes when she was calling on her cellular, and her voice was strained. “I’m drivin’ up to Rennie’s. I’m afraid somethin’ awful’s happened to her. She called me, cryin’. . . . Some guy’s been botherin’ her. Stalking her and threatenin’ her. God, I don’t know what all has happened. Can you come?”

  “Are you drivin’ by yourself?” His mind was filling with pictures of some lunatic who might be after Rennie and get Molly.

  “Well, yes!” As if he were idiotic. “I’ve got to get to Rennie.”

  “Wait for me,” he said.

  “I can’t. Rennie . . ."

  “I’m comin’.” He dropped the receiver.

  Sam was right beside him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Molly said some guy is harassin’ Rennie, and she’s already on her way up there.” He was striding for the door as he spoke.

  Sam came, too, of course. He didn’t ask, just came. It seemed natural, as natural as them both jumping over the doors and into the seats and roaring down the road in the Corvette, heedless of speed limits and not paying a lot of attention to stop signs, either.

  Chapter 22

  If I Needed You

  Seeing the condition Rennie was in upset Molly as much as she had ever been upset in her life. Rennie, who was the very epitome of audaciousness, was cowering and peeking out the windows of her own home. It was a garden apartment in a small, exclusive complex; the kind with specialized front door treatments, private backyards, athletic club, hot tub, and no children allowed. It wasn’t the type of apartment where one should be cowering behind walls.

  Following her, Molly peered, too, but didn't see anyone.

  “When you came up, he ran off,” Rennie said, “but he was there. He’s there every time I look around.”

  Molly was highly incensed that things had gotten this out of hand without Rennie’s telling her any of it. Suddenly perceiving her error, Renn
ie stubbornly shut her mouth on further explaining, and Molly had to extract information out of her by ruthless questioning.

  Eddie Pendarvis had been following Rennie for almost a month, and during the past week things had accelerated. The man had begun showing up each day when she came out of school, and later pulling his car into the parking lot of the apartment complex and sitting there. He had also been calling her, saying lewd things. He left threatening messages on her answering machine, speaking in a high-pitched voice, or sometimes he would call and simply breathe into her answering machine. Molly listened to the latest recording. There was someone breathing on it.

  “He says if I don’t come back to him, he’s gonna shoot me.” Rennie put out her cigarette and immediately reached for the pack.

  “We’re callin’ the police,” Molly said, and took up the phone. Rennie ran out the room, and a second later Molly heard a door slam. She knew it was the bathroom door. That did not deter her from calling the police. The questions of the woman who answered the telephone annoyed her no end, however, and she finally yelled into the phone for an officer to get him or herself over and question her in person. “This is an emergency!” She hung up, shaking, telling herself losing her temper was not going to be of help.

  Tommy Lee and Sam arrived, and eventually the police came, but Rennie wouldn’t come out of the bathroom. It was probably just as well, because in Molly’s opinion the police did not take a serious enough view of the situation. For one thing, they did not arrive for nearly twenty-five minutes, and they did not come with lights flashing and sirens blaring and then dash off immediately to take Eddie Pendarvis into custody, preferably in handcuffs and leg irons. That was what Molly felt should be done, but the policemen, two young men who looked so much alike she couldn’t tell them apart, said that they would go and talk to Mr. Pendarvis.

  “Talk to him?” Molly said, her voice rising. “He needs to be taken off the street. He has already assaulted my sister. He has threatened to shoot her.”

  The policeman said, “Yes, Ma’am . . . but we have no witnesses.” He had a curious way of appearing apologetic and skeptical at the same time.