Serendipity
Page 16
“Sure, what?”
“If I go to the attic for the tree stand, will you help me set up the tree? Pete trimmed the base before he put it in the bucket. God, doesn’t it smell wonderful?”
While Jory was in the attic, Ross walked out to the kitchen to open the back door. Swirling snow smacked him in the face. There was no way he was going to make it back to town, chains or no chains. What he should do was call Woo and ask him if he would mind a roommate for the night. He wondered how Jory would feel about him staying on the premises. As long as he was under a different roof, he didn’t think it would be an issue. He leaned halfway out the door, trying to see the accumulation of snow on the banister railing. Close to three inches, he surmised. With the wind blowing and gusting, the snow was already drifting. All about the backyard there were drifts that looked like desert dunes. He slammed the door shut to step back onto the small area rug by the door. His feet were freezing.
Ross looked around the kitchen. It was comfortable and cozy. Old-fashioned, like the Woojaleskys’. The green plant in the bright red bowl in the center of the table was pretty. So was the red-checkered place mat it sat on. A woman’s touch. The red-and-white-checkered curtains at the double windows over the sink lent an air of coziness, as did the braided rug by the sink. Small pill bottles and tiny tubs of ointment filled the windowsill. He grinned when he saw scrawled names. Clancy, Murphy, Sam, and Bernie. The copper canisters gleamed beneath the fluorescent light attached to the bottom of the kitchen cabinets. A second plant in a bright red crock was curling upward and filled the corner perfectly. Next to it was a gleaming stainless steel percolator. He knew if he lifted the lid, he’d see coffee in the basket. He lifted the lid and smiled. The temptation to lift the lid on the stew pot was so great, he did it. He peered down at the gently simmering meal. The wooden spoon on the counter was a second temptation. He stirred and tasted, rolling his eyes at the delicious flavor. Every bit as good as Woo’s mother’s stew.
Jory Ryan was a homemaker. The thought stunned him. He wondered how many meals Woo had in this wonderful kitchen. That wasn’t any of his business.
“Ross, is something wrong?” Jory called from the doorway.
“No. I wanted to see if the snow was drifting. It is, and it doesn’t look good. Even with your offer of chains, I don’t think I can make it back to town. I’ll give Woo a call and ask him if I can camp out with him. The temperature seems to be dropping too. Listen, you wouldn’t happen to have a pair of socks, would you?”
Jory held up a pair of her father’s thick hunting socks. In her other hand she had a pair of heavy corduroy trousers. “I thought you might want to change. They should fit, my father was about your height. I brought down a sweater in case you want it. I left it on the couch. This house is pretty drafty. The handyman I hired back in September told me I needed new windows, but that will have to wait. There’s a bathroom off the laundry room for you to change in.”
“That’s kind of foolish on your part, isn’t it, Jory? If you need new windows, you should have gotten them. If your heat escapes, it ends up costing you money.”
“I live on a strict budget, Ross. It does not allow for large expenditures like windows. Paying ten dollars more a month in heat is what I can afford right now,” Jory said tightly.
“Jory, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to criticize. Thanks for the pants and socks. I’ll accept the sweater too.”
“I brought down the decorations and the tree stand. The dogs are still sleeping. How would you like to help me decorate the tree?”
He’d never decorated a tree before. The Woojaleskys’ tree was always dressed in its finery when he arrived for the holidays. “I’d like that,” he said honestly.
“You can stay for dinner if you like. There’s more than enough.”
“Thanks, Jory. I can clean up. I’m a whiz at doing dishes. I always do that part when I’m at Woo’s house. I even wash off the stove,” he said proudly.
“Good. I hate cleaning up. I hate doing dishes.”
When Ross returned to the living room, Jory blinked in surprise. “I don’t remember ever seeing my father in those pants or sweater. How did you like working for him? Did he ever say anything about me?” Jory asked curiously.
He wanted to lie and say yes, but he knew in his gut this woman standing in front of him would recognize the lie immediately. “Once, and I was the one who mentioned your name. He didn’t really know who I was, just one of the many ADAs working under him. After I told him I was married to you, he came down on me like a bolt of thunder. He made my life miserable. I was going to resign, had my resignation all typed and ready to present to him the day he . . . the day he died. I stayed on for another eighteen months and got out.”
“Did you like him?”
“Jory, I didn’t know him. I don’t think many people really knew Jake Ryan. He was a legend in his own time, that much I can tell you. How about you, Jory? Did you like him?”
“I didn’t know him either,” Jory said sadly. “I think about him a lot, though. In his own way, he provided for me by leaving me this house and the car and a small bank account. If I’m frugal, I can live here quite nicely and not have too many worries. If new windows and a new roof are all I have to worry about, then I’m lucky. Don’t look at me like that, Ross,” Jory said, turning around to reach for the tree stand.
“How was I looking at you?” Ross said quietly.
“Like you pity me, like you feel sorry for me.”
“Oh, no, Jory, I admire you. I’m sorry if that’s what you thought.” He wished she’d say she admired him too, but he knew there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot to admire, and to top that off, she really didn’t know him the way he was coming to know her. He wondered if it was possible to change that.
“What the hell are those things on your feet?” Ross said, bursting into laughter.
“My fuzzies. The dogs like to sleep in them. I got them at John’s Bargain Store about a month ago. The dogs took to them right away. Would you like me to get you a pair?” She was giggling, unable to help herself.
“They look like they’re still alive. I don’t think I ever saw slippers like that.”
“John’s Bargain Store has tons of them. The floors are drafty. I’m ready if you are. I guess I should hold the tree and you fit it into the stand. Did you ever do this before?”
“As a matter of fact, no, but I don’t think you need to be a rocket scientist to figure out the three screws go into the trunk. This is some hell of a big tree.”
“The biggest one I could find,” Jory said proudly. “Pete said I was nuts. He got this little, bitty thing you can sit on a table. One strand of tinsel, two balls, and one light will make that tree look overloaded, but it was what he wanted. I ribbed him all the way home.”
“The Woojaleskys always have a big tree like this one. The kids make all the decorations. They string cranberries and popcorn, and when they take the tree down, they put it out for the birds. They have these real old decorations and things the kids made in school. They still have the one Woo made in kindergarten. Can you believe that?” Ross said, his face full of awe.
“Some parents are like that,” Jory said wistfully. “I remember making something in the first grade with macaroni, and then we glued it to a wreath we cut from construction paper. We tied yarn on it. It was supposed to be a tree decoration. Did you ever make anything like that, or don’t you remember?”
“Never. I’d damn well remember. Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Jory asked, puzzled.
Ross backed out from the beneath the tree. “You can let go now. The macaroni wreath, where is it?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Christmas wasn’t much of a deal around here. I guess it . . . I don’t know, Ross,” Jory said, flustered by his tone of voice.
“Your old man wouldn’t throw something like that away, would he?”
“Listen, Ross, if you’re trying to make me feel bad, you’re succeeding. If you’d made
a damn macaroni wreath, would your family have saved it?”
“Hell no they wouldn’t have saved it. They’d have thrown it away while I was still looking, but then my parents are one of a kind. Your old man should have saved it. I bet it’s in the box of decorations. Let’s look.”
“It’s not important,” she said quickly. “It was a stupid thing I made in the first grade. If you think it’s in the box, you’re crazy.”
“If it’s not in the box, then we’re going to make new ones. You’re going to make one and I’m going to make one. I’m putting my name on mine, and you’re putting your name on yours. That’s how you’re supposed to do it. That’s how the Woojaleskys do it,” Ross said, wondering why he was making an issue of this.
Her eyes glistening with tears, Jory dropped to her knees to open the box of Christmas decorations. One by one she lifted the fragile ornaments from their cotton nests and handed them to Ross, who placed each one carefully and reverently in the same cotton batting on the floor. “I told you it wasn’t here,” Jory cried. “You made me do this knowing damn well it wasn’t here. You haven’t changed at all, you damn . . . you damn sadist.” Tears funneled down her cheeks. She wiped at them with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “You have no damn right to make me cry like this, Ross. You’re a guest in my house, and don’t ever forget it. Damn you!”
Tears continued to stream down Jory’s cheeks as she followed Ross into the kitchen, and watched him open one cabinet after the other until he found a box of Muller’s macaroni. He moved the table plant to the counter. The macaroni was placed in the center of the table.
“Where’s your Elmer’s glue and the scissors?” Jory pointed to a drawer under the counter. “Scissors, but no glue.”
“I don’t use glue,” Jory sniffed. In a little-girl voice she hardly recognized as her own, she said, “You can make glue with flour and water. That’s what we used when we made it in school.”
“Yeah!” Ross said in stunned surprise.
“Yeah.” Jory smiled tearfully.
“So, don’t just sit here, whip us up a batch. I don’t suppose you have any construction paper?”
“Not since first grade.”
“Then we’ll have to improvise. We need something of equal weight, and green in color. What do you have? This is important, Jory, what do you have?” Ross said seriously.
It was important suddenly, but to whom? “Why does it have to be green? Can’t we color it green?”
“Do you have colors?”
“There’s a box of colored pencils in my father’s office. We can use the pencils and the backs of tablets,” Jory said, getting into the spirit of things.
Overhead, the kitchen light flickered.
“This might be a good time to bring out the candles. Do you have candles, Jory? I think the power is going to go out. Do you have a flashlight?”
“There’s a flashlight in the kitchen drawer, but the batteries are old,” Jory said. “The Christmas candles are in the box with the tree lights and tinsel. I left the box at the bottom of the steps. Wait, there’s a box of candles in the laundry room. They’re big fat ones. I’ll get them.” She was back a moment later with a shoe box full of candles wrapped in cellophane.
“Listen, Ross, what exactly are we trying to do here? Are we going back to our childhood and trying to right old wrongs? Are we trying to make up for what we didn’t have? What’s the point? I’m not saying I don’t want to do it, but . . . why, Ross?”
“Go get the pencils and the cardboard. We can talk as we work.”
“Work? I seem to remember having fun when we made the wreath in school.”
“We’re going to have fun once we get organized,” Ross said.
Later, as they worked at the kitchen table, Ross said, “In case you haven’t figured any of this out, Jory, we’re both fucked up.” There was such sadness in his voice, Jory’s eyes brimmed with tears all over again.
“I knew that the day I moved out of your house five years ago,” she said. “How come it took you so long to figure it out?”
“Stupidity.”
“Are you having fun?” Jory asked.
“Hell no. But that’s going to change any minute now.”
Jory giggled. “Says who?”
“Says me. Just as soon as the power goes off.” Jory doubled over laughing. “See, I told you. You just have to lighten up. I do too,” he said breezily.
“We need a cup and a glass,” she said.
“Why?”
“To make the pattern. Unless you can draw a perfect circle. The cup makes the outer circle and glass makes the inner circle. It was a long time ago, but I remember.”
“I guess that wreath was important to you after all,” Ross said quietly.
“Yes, yes it was. I wish I knew what happened to it.”
“It doesn’t matter now. As long as you pull it out, look at it, talk about it, and put it all in perspective, it will be okay. We’re doing that now,” Ross said, his voice ringing with authority.
“I guess we are,” Jory said, tracing a circle with the cup. When she was finished with it, she slid the cup across the table to him.
The lights went out at four-thirty. Ross lit the candles. Jory meticulously cut the macaroni into little pieces. “You have to do this so they look like holly berries. Three to a cluster. We have to color them red.” Ross followed her instructions to the letter. Jory laughed. “Yours looks sloppy.”
“You have a slight edge on me. You did this before. I didn’t. Jory, do you want to talk about the divorce?”
“No.”
“We should.”
“It’s too . . . it’s best for both of us. We have to do what’s best.”
“Will we be friends?”
“That probably isn’t a very good idea. If we meet on the street or somewhere, we should say hello, but that’s it,” Jory said carefully.
“I was jealous of Woo. I think I still am.”
She felt pleased at his comment, but said, “That’s silly.”
“Are you jealous of Lena?”
“No,” she lied.
“This thing we’re doing here . . . making these wreaths—Lena helped me a few months ago. We had this talk once, and she was appalled that I had never done all the things most kids do growing up. We did them together, and I had a hell of a good time. I missed out on a lot. I suspect you did too. We grew up too fast, you on your own and me with too much money. I’d probably be in jail now if it wasn’t for my mother and Woo. Early on, my mother bailed me out of jams. I have a pretty good grasp on things now, but not on my personal life. Lena wants to get engaged. I thought I did too. My mother seems to like the idea. That itself is reason enough to back off. I can’t seem to get my personal life together,” Ross said huskily.
“I think that’s because we have unfinished business. Once the divorce is final, things will improve for you,” Jory said solemnly.
“I wish I could believe that. If that’s true, then why are you so much better off than I am? Emotionally speaking, that is.”
Jory put her pencil down and leaned across the table. “Ross, there is nothing more devastating to a woman than rejection. It’s such a personal, degrading thing. It makes you look in the mirror to try and identify that thing, that . . . whatever it is that caused the rejection. It’s not something you can see, you just feel it. Until you identify it, you can’t do anything but wallow in self-pity. It seemed to me at the time I wasn’t fit for anything. You didn’t want me, I lost the baby, my father was too busy for me, my friends didn’t want to have anything to do with me because I was pregnant. The only way running away helps is if you work at your problems and know that someday you’ll return to the place you ran away from. In my opinion, that’s when the healing process is complete. That’s not to say there aren’t still a few kinks to be worked out. Do you understand what I just said, Ross?”
“Every word. You did what I haven’t been able to do. I’m sorry, Jory, I mean that.”
“Can I ask you a hypothetical question? If I call you for a date, say two weeks from now, will you go out with me? Is it possible for us to start over, clean?”
Jory thought her heart would leap out of her chest. “Didn’t we just have this discussion? I don’t know, Ross. Call me, and if I’m not busy, I’ll consider it. I don’t think we should be talking about this. Lord, listen to that wind. Do you think Pete will try to make it home tonight?”
“If he does, he’s a fool. No, he’ll stay in town. He’ll probably go to my house. I think I’ll give him a call.”
Ross picked up the phone to hear silence. “The phone’s dead.”
Alarm spread across Jory’s face. “You mean we’re cut off from . . . from the world?”
“We’re having a storm. For all I know, it could be a blizzard. You have food and wood and a roof over your head. You do have wood, don’t you?”
“I have six logs on the back porch. Maybe we should bring them in. If they get wet, they won’t burn. I did have a tarp on the woodpile, but it wasn’t anchored.”
“Everything is going to be fine, Jory.”
She believed him. “I’m glad you’re here, Ross,” she said shakily. “I hate the dark. When I was little I slept with the light on, and as I got older I kept the hall light on and left my door half open. I still do that.” My God, why was she telling him this?
“This might surprise you, but I wasn’t too keen on the dark myself. I had this blanket I kind of hung onto, you know, for comfort. It was something to . . . to sort of more or less hug,” Ross said.
Jory’s eyes widened. “I had a blanket too, but it finally wore out, so I ripped off the binding and put knots on it. I was a thumb sucker, and I would hold that string and feel the knots and that’s how I was able to go to sleep. I found it when I came back. If someone had offered me a pot of gold for that string, I wouldn’t have taken it. It’s under my pillow.” She didn’t just say that, did she?
Disconcerted himself, Ross grappled for words that would take him out of the minefield of emotion he was feeling. “My wreath’s finished,” he said huskily.