Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 01 - The Legitimate Way

by Rohn Federbush

  Ann Arbor

  October, Last Saturday

  Sally’s grief siphoned energy faster than she could replace her sagging spirits with prayer and sleep. She called her sponsor at eight in the morning. “I didn’t drink at my friend’s wake.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Sally. Sounds like everyone else was drinking. I need to tell you this, but you’re going to lose a lot of your old drinking friends. But, taking their inventory as we call judging in AA lingo is not going to add to your spirituality.”

  “I wanted you not to worry about the company I’m keeping, to be ‘rigorously honest.’ Do you think we could move on to the Second Step?”

  “Your book is next to you, right? You chopped off the last word of the sentence, ‘rigorously honest and tolerant.’”

  Sally laughed. She liked the cheerful child. “You know I’m sixty-five.”

  “Let’s see, I’m supposed to say you don’t look it, but we haven’t met. Step Two: ‘Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

  “I am a believer. I accepted Jesus as my Savior when I was twenty.”

  “When you were drinking, did you consider yourself insane?”

  “When I was driving home drunk after being awakened twice by drivers blowing their horns because I was on the wrong side of the road, I realized not stopping the car was insane.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t kill anyone.”

  “I think my mother’s prayers saved me. Now I’m glad I’m an alcoholic. My drinking brought me back to the Lord.”

  “I use the AA group as my higher power.” The young girl coughed. “But I’m keeping an open mind about the possibility of something else out there in the universe to guide me.”

  “Seek and you will find,” Sally said. She was surprised her sponsor’s spiritual life was based entirely on AA. “How often do you attend meetings? I only go once a week to King of Kings, if I’m in town.”

  “Think about adding one more meeting a week. Call me tomorrow and we’ll tackle Step Three, again.”

  The doorbell rang. A thankful bit of brightness appeared on Sally’s doorstep. John arrived with his arms filled with flowers. “The neighbors are going to think I died.” Sally smiled his gift of a dozen white roses.

  “Naw.” John shut the door behind him before wrapping his arms around Sally and the flowers. “They’ll just notice some fool is courting you.”

  “You’re not a fool.” Sally kissed him as proof. John followed her into the kitchen side of the front entrance, as she secured the last empty vase in the house, ran the water, clipped the end of each of the long stems and arranged the delicate white buds to their best advantage. “The table is already too full of flower vases from Robert’s funeral.”

  “How about upstairs?”

  Sally laughed. “You take them up, while I start a pot of coffee. Put them on the drafting table in the study.”

  “Are you packed?” John called from the stairs. When he returned to the first floor, he sat down at the dining room table to await his coffee. His face showed he was rehearsing his next sentence, or move.

  “Never mind.” Sally stopped him. “We are not going to venture into the bedroom together until we’re married. My sponsor says we should wait. And I agree.”

  “Am I going to meet this human obstacle?”

  “My sponsor?” Sally went over to the sad guy and sat on his lap, as if she were a manipulating girl of sixteen. “I hope you’ll be satisfied just being around me for a while.” Sally watched his nostrils expand as he inhaled her old-fashioned Arpege perfume. The sweet man was besotted with her. She placed his hand under her brassiere. “When are you going to give me the ring you promised? I’d like to get Ricco dispatched into whatever hole they can dig for him, before I concentrate on making more happy arrangements.”

  “Deal.” John brightened. “You’ll help me pick out a ring? Can I tell James yet? Where should we get married, in Illinois or Michigan?”

  “Whoa.” Sally laughed. “Ring first; tell James, the rest is up in the air, okay?”

  John held her fast. “One more kiss.”

  She complied with warmth and enthusiasm. She reluctantly left his lap. Standing, she pressed his dear, baldhead to her bosom. Knowing their trance would be broken, she said, “I’ve invited Sam Tedler and his brother to dinner tonight. Were you there when I promised Sam?”

  “Can’t remember. My head is swimming with ideas for our future. I know you’ve been to Europe.” He brushed his hands over his slick head as if to clear away traces of her fingertips in order to think clearly. “Florence is so peaceful. Ireland doesn’t require any language skills and the people talk to you like southern Illinois farmers. Say hello and they tell you their entire life stories, non-stop. Have you been to Rome?”

  “No. Do you want to honeymoon there?”

  “That’s a great idea,” John said, as if Sally thought up the trip’s destination.

  After spending all day helping her shop for dinner, vacuuming, and setting the table for a salad and a chicken potpie, John asked if he could turn on the evening news. Sally liked a man in the house. She felt more focused, less inclined to worry over the future or the past, less likely to weep about Robert’s recent death, or Danny’s. After Sally popped the promised chicken potpie in the oven, she joined John on the couch, draping her arm over his knee to make sure he knew. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You just want an errand boy.” John smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. He ran his finger down the inside of Sally’s arm all the way to her elbow, as he watched her tension increase by the widening of her eyes. “I think you’re a very alive woman.”

  The doorbell rang or they might have proceeded faster down the warm path than Sally intended. Sam Tedler walked in first.

  His brother, Sylvester, lagged behind. “So sorry for you loss,” Sylvester said. “You live in a cartoon,” Sylvester said, looking at the walls. “I mean the colors ….”

  Sally was pleased. “I’m glad you like them. The barn red in the kitchen reminds me to stop and not go in there. I don’t like to cook, normally. When the painter opened the can he said, ‘Well, this has got to be wrong.’” Sally laughed. “I like yellow in the dining room. I think food should be eaten in a cheery mood, don’t you? You cannot paint walls white in Michigan, because the cloudy days turn everything grey, so all the ceilings and the front room walls are sky blue.”

  “The upstairs is all pink,” John said, without thinking; then he added, “I took flowers upstairs for Sally’s study.”

  “It looks like a florist shop went out of business.” Sam stepped into the dining room.

  Sally batted Sam’s shoulder. “Actually, the paint upstairs is called Coral Rose. Come and sit in the front room. The oven needs ten more minutes.”

  Sam chose one of the red recliners. “Have you two set a date?”

  “No,” Sally said, as John came to stand next to her slipping his arm around her waist. “We have to wait to put Ricco in his place.”

  “Good idea,” Sylvester said, sitting in the matching recliner. “I mean congratulations, Mr. Nelson.”

  “Are all the paintings yours?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Sally said. “Mine are the glorified cartoons. I like Gauguin and see most things I love in basic colors. The texture of oil paint lets me feel I’m sculpting on the canvass. After Danny died, painting cheered me up.”

  “With Robert gone, will you get back to painting?” Sylvester asked. “I like the blue vases in that painting.”

  “As soon as you marry, I’ll give it to you as a present.”

  “What if he doesn’t marry?” John asked.

  “Then, he’ll have to visit us to enjoy my paintings.”

  Over dinner, Sally reminisced about earlier years when she spent time with the boys and their single mother. “Remember when I insisted you both learn how to swim at the Y?”

  “Mother was afraid of the water.” Sylvester turned
to John.

  Sam helped himself to another portion of the chicken pot pie. “You made the Y give us scholarships?”

  “They wanted to help kids learn how to swim. Your mother worked hard. Wasn’t she going to school, too?”

  “She wanted us to see how hard she worked getting a college degree as an adult,” Sylvester said. Sally refilled Sylvester’s plate. John shook his head no, but Sally knew he was waiting for chocolate cake. “Mother’s happily married.” Sylvester’s table manners were more refined than Sam’s.

  “I’m glad.” Sally couldn’t remember how many months passed since she heard from their mother. “Does she still live in Seattle?”

  “Bellevue,” Sam said. “She’s married to a retired math professor.”

  “Do you call her often? You’ll have to give me her new address.”

  “She’s pretty busy,” Sylvester said.

  Sam looked askance at his brother. “I call her, at least once a week.”

  “She always wants to know who we’re dating.” Sylvester shrugged his shoulders.

  “Sylvester thinks she’s still keeping tabs on us. I think she just wants to share our lives.”

  “Sylvester, you’re as judgmental as you think your mother is.” Sally brought out plates of cakes and ice cream to make the medicine of her own hypercritical words go down easier.

  “Do you think she is an alcoholic?” Sylvester asked.

  “It’s not for me to say. I’ve told you two before you should both go to Alanon meetings. You’ll be welcome there, because one friend admits she is an alcoholic. Me.”

  “Maybe when we get back from Missouri,” Sam said.

  “I won’t be able to go,” Sylvester said. “I’m on assignment to keep Mary Jo safe. And when I’m off duty, I’m busy with night school. I want to become a forensic pathologist.”

  “That will take forever,” John said.

  “Don’t discourage the man. I’m proud of you, Sylvester. You hang in there.”

  The boy actually smiled. “Thanks.”

  “How long will we be in Missouri?” Sam patted his big brother on the back.

  “I have no idea. Do you know, John?”

  “Not me. I’m just going along for the ride.”

  “You were pretty tough in Arizona. “Remember threatening Simon Goldberg in Texas?” Sally laughed.

  “That old fool tried to drive us into the ground.” John turned to Sylvester, growling in remembrance of the harrowing car ride.

  “Penny invited us for Sunday dinner.” Sylvester patted his satiated stomach.

  “We’re going, too,” Sally said. “Monday, Sam, we plan to leave for Missouri.”

  “At least I’ll be well fed. I almost died from starvation in Arizona. My stomach thought my head was cut off.”

  “Remember Mother Dade frightening the chief of the tribe?” John started collecting the plates from the table.

  “She buffaloed me too.” Sam said.

  “At least we ate well in Texas.” John herded them into the front room. “I never would have guessed Sonja was an arsonist.”

  “Just a fool in love.” Sally smiled at John.

  * * *

  Ann Arbor, St. Andrews Episcopal Church

  Last Sunday in October

  Sally picked John up for eight o’clock services at the church. “I was raised Catholic, too,” he said. “During the sixties, I realized women should be able to serve as priests. I miss the traditions.”

  In church Sally spoke softly. “I missed the liturgy. An emptiness filled the place where all the poetry resided. This church was built right after the Civil War. I imagine women in hoopskirts waltzing down the aisles. The wires were collapsible, like telescopes.”

  After communion, Sally knelt to ask the Lord to keep her safely beside Him, in His community, next to His heart. She also prayed for Robert’s soul to find the Lord’s light and eternal peace. The service helped her deal with Robert’s absence on her side of the shadow of death.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  When John and Sally arrived for dinner in the evening at the Goldberg’s second floor apartment, Sally was surprised at the sophisticated style of the furnishings. “Penny, this looks like a picture right out of ‘Architectural Digest.’”

  “Penny added all the trees,” Simon said. “It’s a good thing we left Texas. She never would have been happy in a flat wasteland.”

  The corners of the living room sported fig trees and other tall plants. Every table held ferns, cactus, flowering annuals. The furniture was a little less sparse than Simon’s ranch house, but mostly visitors were greeted with greens. Sally suspected Penny’s mother divested her summer porches of wicker furniture. The couch and chairs’ cushions were covered in light blue velour. Accents around the room, flower pots, pillows, even the matting around the framed photographs of Penny’s extensive Catholic family were a bright basic yellow.

  “Up here among the tree tops we don’t need drapes.” Penny spun around in the middle of the wood floor. “The plants love all this light from the windows.”

  Sally noticed the inside greens made a stunning contrast against the colorful backdrop of autumn leaves remaining on the trees outside the windows. The plants would also soften the snow-covered branches of the coming winter. “You’ve made a lovely home.” Sally sat on the couch next to John. “When is the baby due?”

  “Not until June. Sam and Sylvester are coming to dinner this evening, too.”

  “Yes they told us,” John said. “We entertained them with stories about our stressful ride out to your ranch house.”

  “I was so nervous, I was driving like a madman, afraid Penny would back out of the marriage at the last minute.”

  Those had been Sally’s exact thoughts, but the couple seemed happy. At least in Michigan, Penny’s family would be close at hand to welcome the new baby. “Babies can be a lot of work.”

  “Simon’s going to hire a nurse to help me. I need to finish my degree.”

  “I’m opening a law office here in Ann Arbor, specializing in real-estate law.”

  When Sam and Sylvester Tedler arrived, Sally was surprised to see they brought Mary Jo along. “She needs to get away from her hotel room,” Sylvester said. “I’m sure we can keep her safe enough to eat dinner.” Sylvester was wearing his police uniform, but Sam was dressed casually. Sally could tell Mary Jo’s sweater and slacks were worn more than once between cleanings. She would explain the necessities of life to Sylvester when they were alone. Protective custody should allow some basic amenities.

  “I’m glad you came,” Penny said graciously. “We’re eating buffet style this evening, anyway.”

  “I made the chili,” Simon said. “Penny says she married me because I love to cook.”

  “Fatherhood was probably more of the reason.” Penny laughed in her old childish, unthinking way.

  After hugging the expectant mother, Mary Jo sat on the couch next to Sally. “I miss Robert so much.”

  “Yes.” Sally was surprised at a sudden rush of anger. She did not blame Mary Jo’s marital problems for Robert’s death. “If he could have stopped drinking.” Sally reasoned with herself. “I believe he would have lived ten more years.”

  “I’m mad at him for not lasting long enough to see my baby.” Penny turned to her husband. “I suppose I’m awful.” Then she served the women bowls of chili, placing garlic bread on the low wicker table in front of them.

  Simon marshaled the men into the kitchen to fill their own plates. Sam sat down in a chair across from Mary Jo and Sally. He kept his eyes on his full plate of chili. “I think we all feel angry at Robert for dying too soon.”

  Mary Jo kept her spoon in her chili. “I’m thankful you don’t hold me responsible. If my stupid husband knew how to control his temper ….”

  “Do you think he killed his second wife?” John asked.

  “Her sister, Harriet, certainly does.” Mary Jo took a bite of the chili. “The children are beautiful. Their aunt renamed t
hem. Susan is eight. She has dark thick hair. Her sister, Sarah, is six and a redhead. The boys are younger; Melvin is four and Martin just two.”

  “What does she tell them about their father?” Sam asked.

  “Harriet told them he’s dead, a soldier fallen in Iraq. They visit their mother’s grave each Sunday.”

  “How did she die?” Sally asked.

  “Supposedly a heart attack, at twenty-eight. The doctor told Harriett giving birth to four children in four years might have been a factor.”

  “We’ll find out the truth when we’re down there,” Sally said. “Robert mentioned you were helping them out financially.”

  “My mother left me a considerable amount of money. I guess they accept me as a kind of aunt.”

  Sylvester stood next to Mary Jo’s chair. “Mr. Sites says your inheritance is probably a factor in your husband’s hunt for you.”

  Mary Jo looked up at Sylvester. Sally watched Sylvester’s heart melt under Mary Jo’s unhappy gaze. Mary Jo’s money was only one of the reasons Ricco would hate losing his attractive wife.

  Sam noticed, too. “Sylvester, how long should we keep Mary Jo out?”

  “I…I guess we should leave,” Sylvester said.

  Sam picked up their empty bowls and deposited them in the kitchen, before he went along with Mary Jo and Sylvester.

  Simon said as part of his good-bye speech, “Maybe you should keep tabs on each other around such a lovely hostage.”

  Sally wondered if Penny noticed how much her new husband’s discourse resembled Harvey Clemmons’ mode of salacious speech. Robert’s friends, Robert’s words were constantly in the forefront of Sally’s brain. She refrained from referencing them. Penny’s hospitality and present happiness need not be disturbed.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Independence, Missouri

  First Monday in October

  October weather in Missouri did not resemble Michigan’s. Instead of crisp air, colorful scenery, and sweeps of cold rain, Missouri’s world was green, the grass, the leaves, even the breezes retained the warmth of summer. They found Harriett Cardonè’s rural home outside of Independence, Missouri, with help from the rental car’s GPS system. Weeping willows surrounded the small home’s extensive lawns. In the front yard, four children of wicked Ricco played near a swinging bench, which Harriett nearly filled with her mammoth body.