Hope Falls_Giving a Little

by Frances Elliot

  “Good news,” was all he said.

  “Mom, I guess I’ll go out to the sun porch and start on the flowers, unless you thought of something else for me.”

  “Fine, dear.”

  There were a couple of reasons for this decision. First, Emily questioned her ability to sit close to Joe without staring at him and drooling and second, she’d be able to eavesdrop and let her mother’s interrogation skills work their magic in relative privacy.

  Long practice with two teenage daughters who answered every question – how was school, how was your date, how are you feeling, how’s the homework going – with “fine” had left their mom with an unnerving ability to get any information she wanted whether the hapless suspect wanted to divulge it or not.

  The “sun porch” was an ill-conceived and poorly executed attempt to expand the house. Her grandfather, a pretty good carpenter, had decided to enclose the wide brick terrace that ran the length of the house in back, but realized halfway through that the project had been a mistake. Fifty percent window and un-insulated, it was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. Nice in the mornings though, and a good place to be alone sometimes.

  There was a card table set up, and Emily found the scissors, began cutting stems and settled in to unashamedly listen. From the kitchen she heard her mom ask Joe where he’d been living – the answer was “oh, a couple different places.” Emily smiled to herself in anticipation.

  *

  From the moment the front door opened, Joe knew he was in trouble. First of all, the girl. Like a lot of men, Joe had a brain that automatically sorted every woman he saw into the Yes or No column, with a special area labeled Absolutely Not for women he shouldn’t even look at – mostly wives or serious girlfriends of co-workers. And once in a while, a girl like Emily.

  Joe was willing to bet some men overlooked her, didn’t notice the delicate bone structure or fine-grained pale skin or the sensuality of her mouth. And dark brown hair with bright blue eyes, a particular weakness of his. He wanted her the instant he saw her, but this was the kind of woman he now avoided at all costs – a woman who expected to be taken seriously, a woman whose heart he would surely break, sooner or later.

  Secondly, this area, these mountains, this air – he liked it dry and dusty now, as though the climate ought to match his arid soul. And last but not least, there was Mrs. Elmore. The moment she touched him he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and howl out all the hurt he felt, the memories he couldn’t erase. He could already feel the walls around him beginning to wobble.

  Right now he felt like a boxer out of his weight class and he heard himself telling Mrs. Elmore things he always kept to himself. He absolutely didn’t like admitting that he moved from place to place like an escaped convict, but she’d been too wily for him.

  “Well then, tell me about your trip. Where did you start from, was there much snow there?”

  And Joe heard himself telling her about Casper and Salt Lake (“how funny, Emily came through there this morning, too,” she’d said) and Reno, thinking that would be the end of it. But she circled back, asking how he’d made a living in Casper.

  “Mostly line cook, a little bartending.”

  “Wonderful, exactly what I need this weekend. How are you at potato mashing?”

  “Unsurpassed, if I do say so myself.”

  “Thank goodness – I just don’t seem to have the arm strength anymore and people get so fussy about lumps.” She paused a moment, as though contemplating that mysterious human frailty, then suddenly said, “Where were you before Casper?”

  “Up outside of Butte, hated it there though, only stayed a month,” he replied, forgetting to edit himself before he spoke. Damn, she was just like a good cop, lulling him along with inconsequential chatter, then switching it up and pouncing.

  “Would you like another sandwich?”

  “Oh, no Ma’am, I’m fine. That was delicious.”

  “Miracle Whip, you know. I never tell anyone ahead of time and people who say they don’t care for it always enjoy it. So tell me about Butte because I’m surprised. I always wanted to go there – it sounded so rough and wild when I was a girl.”

  “Well, it’s still pretty rough,” he said and then told her about the ranch and fence mending in the bitter cold and the day he drove past the bus station and decided it was time to leave. “So I went in and bought a ticket out of there. Left the rancher’s truck outside, always felt a little bad about that.”

  “No, that doesn’t sound like you at all. Your mom was always so proud of what a responsible young man you were, right from the get-go.”

  She reached across the table and patted his hand, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Mrs. Elmore was going on, though.

  “Do you remember that time, you were about fourteen or so, and Danny had broken a vase and you found the hidden pieces? Your mom overheard you talking to her, explaining the right thing to do and how it would make her feel better – she told me she knew then she’d never really have to worry much about you.”

  All right, that was over with. She’d brought up Danielle, the little sister he’d doted on, watched over, tried to guide. His eyes were getting watery again. He cleared his throat and said harshly, “Guess she’d be pretty disappointed now, huh?”

  For an instant Mrs. Elmore looked as though he’d struck her and then the look was gone. She reached over again and covered his hand with both of hers. “Joe. Joe, look at me.”

  Reluctantly, he raised his eyes and now saw only understanding on her face. “Listen to me, honey. You have to let it hurt. Trust me, because I know. It’s never going to go away, but you can learn to live with it a different way.”

  After the briefest of pauses, she stood up. “And now,” she said, suddenly brisk, “now I wonder if I can ask you to find the snow shovel and clear the bottom of the driveway before Mike gets home. That way none of us will have to listen to him yammer about the plow driver.”

  Boy, you had to hand it to her – sending him off alone to chew that over for a while. With some mindless physical labor, too – extremely clever. He found himself smiling and shaking his head a little. “It would be an honor and if Mr. Elmore agrees, I will happily hunt down the plow driver and beat him up for you.”

  “Do you think you can possibly bring yourself to call us Mike and Ellie now? Seeing as how you’re a grown man and all?”

  “I will try, Ma’am, but old habits die hard. I’ll go get my coat.”

  The driveway was just about finished when a middle-aged pick-up pulled in and the driver slid down the window. “Joe?”

  Joe jammed the shovel into a drift, walked over, and extended a hand.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Elmore.”

  “Put you to work already, I see. How’s it going in there?”

  “Not sure I can say – I suppose everything’s under control.”

  “Great. Maybe later you and I can drive into town and get a couple of beers.”

  Joe couldn’t think of a worse idea. “Sure.”

  A large blue sedan pulled into the driveway behind the truck and honked a couple of quick beeps. This had to be the other daughter and her family, thought Joe. The driver, a dark-haired guy in his thirties, gave him the kind of noncommittal wave you used for people you might or might not know. The woman was twisted around, talking into the back seat at an occupant Joe couldn’t see.

  “Okay, I see the gang’s all here. See you up at the house – and call me Mike, by the way,” said Mr. Elmore as he pulled away.

  Joe took as long as he could to clear the small remaining patch of snow, preparing to be surrounded by a large, happy family. He’d felt comfortable with Mr. Elmore, who seemed to treat his re-appearance as No Big Deal, but he dreaded walking into the cheerful greetings, hugs and kisses, “it’s so good to see you” portion of the reunion.

  Maybe he’d walk around the house, see if they’d cleared the back door or find some other chore to do until things calmed
down a little inside. It would be easier for him to endure the brouhaha later, when he’d had more time to steel himself.

  *

  Emma, all thirty-odd pounds of her, barreled into Emily just inside the door and nearly knocked her down. Full of the boundless energy of a child who’d spent the day strapped into one seat or another, she was positively giddy with freedom, running from Emily to her grandparents, then over to the hearth to wrap a wary George in a bear hug.

  “Emma, be gentle with the doggie,” said Abby.

  Emily glanced over at her older sister. Tall, blonde, glowing with health, she had the kind of complexion people described as “peaches and cream” and Emily had always felt a little washed-out beside her. Because she’d sensed very early that she wasn’t going to be “the pretty one,” she’d focused on her grades and knew by the sixth grade that she wanted to be a journalist. She had pursued that goal relentlessly ever since.

  “C’mon Emma,” she said. “Let’s go up to my room. I have a present for you.” She knew Abby would be shaking her head, so she didn’t look at her. “Is this one your suitcase?”

  She pointed to something large and black. Emma shook her head and very seriously pointed to the small pink one. “You’re silly,” she said. “I have this one. Mattie doesn’t have his own yet, but I do.”

  Upstairs, Emma was enchanted with her bear, and clapped her hands when her grandfather and Aaron wheeled in the small fold-up bed. As she chattered away and explored the room, Emily glanced out the window and caught her breath at the sight of Joe, shoveling the path from the back door to the garage.

  As she watched, he paused a moment, shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the back step railing. Beneath it, he wore a plaid flannel shirt worn thin with many washings and it was easy for Emily to imagine the muscles shifting and gliding beneath the fabric. She felt her breathing slow and deepen, thinking of standing behind him, circling his waist with her arms, pressing the side of her face against that strong back.

  Sensing something, he turned to look behind him and slowly raised his eyes to the second story. Their eyes met and he seemed momentarily confused – then that look was replaced with something intense, almost magnetic. He took a half step to face her directly and Emily felt pinned, powerless to move or avert her gaze. A warmth crept slowly through her, a tingling began between her legs, and she was aware of her muscles softening and relaxing, her body preparing itself for what it expected would happen next.

  “What are you looking at, Aunt Em’ly?”

  Emma stood next to her and pushed the curtain further aside. Joe’s look shifted, his eyes widened and Emily saw the color drain from his face, the outdoor flush turning sheet white. The shovel dropped from his grasp; he grimaced and turned away, headed for the garage.

  “Who’s that?” asked Emma, pointing at the receding figure.

  Emily looked down at her niece, trying to snap out of her trance. “That’s a friend of grandma’s. He’s very nice – you’ll like him. Want to go back downstairs now?”

  “’Kay.”

  Taking her hand, Emily ushered the little girl down and found her dad in the living room, now wrestling with the rented table. Her mom sat in the kitchen with the baby on her lap and Abby was at the counter assembling pies. “Before you sit down, Emily, bring in that plastic bag from the sun porch,” her mother said.

  Emily retrieved it and lingered for a few moments to collect her thoughts. What, really, had been happening upstairs, before Emma came to the window? It seemed that normally someone would have spotted her, given a quick wave and gone back to shoveling. Why had he turned, stared at her like that, almost dared her to try and look away? That was it – it felt like a challenge of some kind, and it sure had seemed sexually charged. But since Emily knew she very seldom drove men wild with desire, something must be wrong with her radar.

  Probably she’d completely misread the incident; the afternoon sun had blinded him and he couldn’t even tell who was standing at the window. For all she knew, he’d been thinking the house needed a new coat of paint.

  She looked inside the bag as she walked back. Ah, art projects. She dumped the contents onto the table and Emma reached for the crayons immediately. “I thought Emma could make us some nice place cards for dinner tomorrow,” her mother said.

  Emily found the packets with the folding cards adorned with an overly optimistic-looking turkey and tore them open. “Good lord, Mom, why are you doing place cards? Let them sit where they want – and you know she can’t handle that anyway,” said Abby without turning around.

  Emma was already happily scribbling. “I think she’s doing a wonderful job,” said her grandmother.

  The storm door creaked open, the back doorknob rattled and…nothing happened for a full ten seconds. Then the door swung open and Joe came in, his coat draped over his arm. Emily instinctively knew he’d paused to armor himself. He glanced quickly around the room and turned to her mom. “Mrs. El—ah, Ellie, I went ahead and shoveled the back path and now I wondered if it would be okay if I went up and took a quick shower.”

  “Of course, dear. Emily, why don’t you show him where the towels—”

  He interrupted. “Oh, I’ll be fine, I’m sure I can find what I need.”

  “Hello, Joe. Do you remember me?” asked Abby.

  “Sure I do, good to see you again,” he replied.

  “I’d shake, but…” She held up hands dusted with flour.

  “Later,” he said. “Where’s your husband? I should say hi to him, too.”

  “Upstairs unpacking and setting up our travel crib. Say hi as you go by.”

  He nodded and left the room without really looking at Emma or Emily. “That’s funny,” said Abby quietly. “Most people make a fuss over Emma and he didn’t even say hello to her.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s just a little overwhelmed with so many people,” said their mother.

  “No, mom – I saw something strange.” Emily paused, searching for a way to put it without admitting she’d been gawking at him. “Emma and I were looking out the window and when he saw us he had a strange reaction, like—”

  Her mother interrupted. “My goodness, I should have thought of this.” She got up, handed the baby to Emily and left the room.

  When she returned, she held a framed photo. She put it on the table in front of Emily and pointed. “Do you remember this? Look at it closely.”

  Leaning around the baby, Emily looked and saw four people squeezed onto a porch swing – herself, looking about six, her mom, Marguerite, and another little girl, the spitting image of Emma. They were all laughing. “Show it to your sister,” her mom said, taking the baby back.

  Emily displayed the photo and Abby said, “Oh. Is that, was that his little sister?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Her mom looked down into her grandson’s face for a moment and said quietly, “I suppose that hurt the worst. Deep down, we all know we’ll lose our parents someday, but we don’t expect to lose a baby sister. Ah, well.” She gave herself a shake and looked over to Emma, who had paused in her coloring as if she’d sensed the change in mood around her.

  “Show grandma what you’ve done so far,” she said, smiling. “Oh, those are just perfect.”

  Emily and Abby exchanged a look and Abby stepped over to the sink to rinse her hands. “These are ready for the oven, Mom, so I think I’ll put the baby down now. You mind if I lie down for a while too? It’s been a long day and Aaron wants to go out tonight.”

  This was news to Emily. “That’ll be fine, dear,” said her mom, reluctantly handing over the baby. “Are you going to eat with us?”

  “Where are you going?” said Emily.

  “We’re not sure yet,” said Abby, answering both questions. “Aaron’s going to call around, see who’s in town and what they’re doing tonight.” She paused. “Do you think Joe would like to join us? We’ll probably see some people he knows.”

  I bet I can answer that one, thought Emily. Her sister had never be
en very sensitive to other people’s moods, placidly assuming everyone else had the same cheery outlook she did. But Emily could already guess Joe wouldn’t be thrilled with an evening of drinking and playing “remember when.”

  Her mother said “That’s a nice thought, but I don’t know if he’d be interested or not. You can ask.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Abby. “And just so you know, Emily, I can read your face perfectly well and if you don’t want to baby-sit all you have to do is say so.”

  Before Emily could open her mouth, their mother said “Girls…” in a tone they knew well and Abby left the room without another word. Emma put down her crayon and looked at Emily expectantly. “All done,” she said proudly. “Can we go play now?”

  “Want to help me set the tables? It’ll be fun.”

  Even at five, Emma knew a con job when she heard one. She gave an exaggerated sigh she’d probably learned from one of her parents and clambered down from her seat. “Okay. And then we’ll play,” she said.

  “Deal,” said Emily, shaking her niece’s tiny hand. As they went into the dining room, Emily was thinking about the evening ahead, wondering just how strained it would be. After the kids were asleep, what could they find to do or talk about without touching any nerves? Well, if things got too uncomfortable, she could always hide out in the kitchen. Surely there’d be something left to do out there.

  Chapter Two – Wednesday Evening

  This sofa bed was the most comfortable place Joe had stretched out in ages, and he couldn’t think of a single good reason to get up. He had to be careful though, because he could feel the soothing fingers of relaxation closing around him, urging him to drop his guard.

  He’d been amazed when he’d climbed the narrow stairs to the attic where long ago he’d played hide-and-seek – it had been partially made over and one end now held the fold-out bed, a discarded easy chair, a small desk and a couple of bookshelves filled with what looked like assigned high school reading and textbooks.