by Susan Schild
As the vet examined Roy, Linny examined the vet. With her shiny hair pulled back in a no-nonsense clip, the woman had porcelain skin, wide-set gray eyes, and delicate features. She looked familiar, and Linny tried to think of all the places she might have met her but came up empty. Everything about her was glossy and lush, but she wore not a speck of makeup, and had a straightforward, almost tomboy-ish air about her that Linny grudgingly found herself liking.
Watching the vet’s smooth hands gently feel Roy’s stomach, Linny glanced down at the wrinkles on the back of her own hands. She felt the pooch spilling over the waistband of her shorts, and felt wistful. Most men would pick a lush peach over a fast-drying plum. Both Jack and Buck had, anyhow. But, she reminded herself, Andy had loved her just the way she was. She just needed another Andy.
Linny sat in the parking lot for moment, hot air blowing on her face through the vents of the broken air conditioning. Her shoulders sagging, she watched as a laughing young couple walked out of the vet office. He held her hand, and she held the leash of a capering golden retriever puppy. A silver-haired man behind the wheel of a Lincoln Town Car dropped his wife and her pink-bowed, white yip dog off at the front door, and drove off to park. He didn’t want either of his girls to be out in the heat. She shook her head. That did it. Sign her up for a loving and protective husband. So she had crepey hands, and none of the dewy freshness of young Dr. Nelson. As she put the car in gear, she said over her shoulder to Roy, “For a woman with slightly higher mileage, I’m holding up pretty dang well, don’t you think?” From his red booster car seat in the back, Roy gazed at her adoringly. She sat up straighter, remembering she was a glass-half-full girl. If she was working on the Sweet Dream job, she’d find the Sweet Dream man, too. The heck with Jack Avery. She’d call Craig and meet him for coffee or a drink. Why not?
For the next few days, she worked side by side with Dare, installing the reclaimed wood. Saturday afternoon, she stood beside him and gazed at the gleaming floor. Feeling a swell of pride, she grinned and reached over to fist bump him. “I can’t believe we did this. We figured it out.”
“It was easy,” he boasted, but gave her a sheepish grin. His day or two of experience at laying flooring had hardly been enough; they’d had to repeatedly revisit the websites about how to lay reclaimed wood floors, and made more than a few frantic phone calls to Jerry for advice. Dare pulled out his phone and began to snap pictures. “These are the after shots. We already got eighty-seven hits on the before. I’ve been calling it Dare’s Lair Repair,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
She had to smile. Despite her sore muscles, she clasped her hands together, and spun around slowly. “I love it. Even without the paint, the rooms feel so calm and cheerful.” She sighed happily. “I’ll miss the cardboard floors, of course . . .”
“These are the classiest mobile home floors I ever saw.” He hitched up his stylishly drooping shorts.
“This was all your idea. You are so smart.” She thought of how much he’d done to make the trailer feel more like a home, and her voice shook with emotion. “Dare, you’ve been a huge help to me.”
He flushed, and pushed his hands in his pockets. “No biggie.”
She cocked her head. “So over the next few days, can you build me a cray-cray social media presence?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “This project rocked,” he mumbled. Dare took a few more pictures and then ducked away to collect his tools.
After pressing a wad of bills into his hand, she waved as his truck—thudding with blaring music—swayed down the driveway. She left a voice mail for Mary Catherine. “Dare did a terrific job. He’s a talented guy, and a sweetheart, too. Once he started working, I could hardly get him to stop. He’s also going to boost presence for my business on social media.” She was rambling. “Sorry girl, for the long winded message.”
That evening at Jumpin’ Joe’s Bean House, Linny slipped onto a stool that faced out the window and glanced at her watch. She was a few minutes early for her coffee date with Craig because she was anxious—not a can’t-wait-to-see-him buzz, but more of a what-the-hey, let’s-get-it-over-with jitter. Giving herself a shake, she reminded herself she needed to focus on available men. No more mooning over Jack, missing Andy, or getting enraged about Buck.
Tucking a straying bra strap back in place, Linny wondered if her arms were firm enough for the sleeveless shirt she was wearing. Craig Lyman was just too perfect for her. He looked like he worked out, and Linny guessed he had washboard abs. His features were Ken-doll perfect, and he had a full head of hair. To gild the lily, he was bright, had a good job, and seemed to be devoted to his kids.
Sipping her ice water, Linny felt her stomach rev up a few RPM’s. What would someone that perfect want with an unemployed woman whose husbands kept dying on her? Raking back her hair, she saw him approach and smiled nervously as he drew up a stool.
Grinning, he gave her a peck on each of her cheeks. “You look marvelous.”
Marvelous was not a manly word. She exhaled, felt her stomach warm, and began to relax, remembering his flaw of using girly words. Now if he’d just get a bad haircut, lose some hair, and get a paunch she’d really start to feel comfortable around him.
As he toddled off to get their coffees, Linny reminded herself of Kate’s coaching about giving him a chance, and mentally rehearsed a few questions to get the conversational ball rolling.
When he returned, she burbled, “How are you? How are your kids?” Her words came out in a rush, like she’d already had three cups of coffee. She flushed, but tried to look serene.
“Funny you should ask,” he began, his voice taut. “My ex-wife, Megan, and I have been talking.” He looked away, “The kids really miss me and I’m kind of lost without the whole family.” Craig took her hands in his, and gazed at her sorrowfully. “Megan and I have decided to give it another try. I’m going to need to break things off with you, Linny.”
She gazed at him with incredulity. Had she missed something? Like a complete relationship, perhaps? Extricating her hands from his, she asked, “So you’re breaking up with me?”
With sad, basset-hound eyes he nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so.”
“But we were never really involved . . .” she spluttered, but then got tickled at the absurdity of the situation, and had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. What the heck. She’d go along with it. “I’m having trouble grasping this . . .” she murmured.
Sighing deeply, he patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Linny, Linny, Linny.” Putting his fingers to his forehead, he winced. “I’ve been dreading telling you. This is devastating news for you, I know.”
And then she understood. Here was a guy who hadn’t dated since freshman year in college. Of course he was clueless about what constituted a relationship. “It is.” She shook her head mournfully.
“I feel like a real cad . . .”
Bingo. Another word that men didn’t use. She hid her smile with a sip of coffee, and impulsively asked, “Do you have a picture of your family?”
Beaming, he whipped out his phone, held it up for her, and paged through ten photos.
Linny gazed at the pictures thoughtfully. His two sons were darling towheads, and Megan was a plump, friendly-looking woman, with mousey brown hair cut in a short wash-and-go style. She was kind of woman Linny would see at the library or grocery store, and instantly recognize as a Mom. Megan was plain and looked sweet—nothing like the glamorous wife Linny had expected to see with Craig. “You have a beautiful family,” she said softly, and meant it.
He nodded and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “But you’re still a vibrant and beautiful young woman.” Patting her arm, he gave her an encouraging nod. “Some other man will come along, and snap you right up.”
Slumping her shoulders dispiritedly, she went for a sad, spurned woman look as he walked her to her car. She couldn’t wait to tell Kate about the big break-up.
He shook his head, looking regretful.
“Again, I’m so sorry for disappointing you. I just need my family.”
“I do understand, Craig,” she said. As she got in her car and pulled away, she laughed so hard she snorted and worried she’d have to pull over. Crazy, crazy, crazy. When her laughter subsided, she thought about it, and felt a wave of compassion for Craig. Of course he needed his family. He’d built his whole life around them. Suddenly single, he was unmoored, drifting, at sea—just like she’d felt lately. Linny shook her head. He didn’t know what he was doing any more than she did. The man she’d thought was too perfect was just trying to act out the part of the bachelor about town, and probably trying to hide what a failure he thought he was. Smiling, she sent good wishes his way, and hoped that he and his family reunited and lived happily ever after. Despite all the whipsaw turns and crushing disappointments of her life, she still fervently believed in happily ever after. Rolling down the window, she let the cool evening breeze blow back her hair, and felt a wave of contentment.
CHAPTER 12
Family Secrets
Monday morning, Linny checked her voice mail and listened to a new message. Her mother sounded slightly breathless. “You won’t believe it. On the radio, I was the fifth caller in a contest, and I won four tickets to go see a play. I never win those things,” she said, sounding tickled. “I’d love it if you could go with me. It’s tonight, and I invited your sister and Jerry, too.”
After her big break up she needed a distraction. Linny shook her head, grinning again as she thought about that strange date and said, “I’d love to come.”
Linny paused and breathed in the perfume of the two gardenia bushes that stood beside her Mama’s front door. She remembered perfect summer evenings when she was a kid, catching fireflies and shooting baskets with Kate until past dark. Exhaling, she braced herself for the clutter, and knocked. When she got no answer, she pushed open the door. “Mama. It’s me.”
“Come on in.” Her mother bustled down the hall and gave her a brief hug.
“Mama, you need to lock your door,” Linny chided.
Dottie frowned. “I keep the screen hooked.”
“That little bitty hook wouldn’t be a big deterrent to a burglar,” she said, making her way to the living room.
“I’m fine.” Her mother’s jaw had that don’t-tell-me-how-to-run-my-life set to it. “I just need a few more minutes.” Dottie scurried back to the bathroom.
“Comb your hair out better, Mama,” Linny called. “You’ve got speed bumps in back.” Sitting down, she looked around and that closed in feeling grew in her chest.
“Hello!” Kate called, as she stepped into the room. Wearing a blue chambray dress that didn’t even hint at a baby tummy, she picked her way over to Linny, gave her a hug, and called out a lilting hello to her mother. “Jerry should be here any minute,” she announced, and she sat her petite bottom in the cleared spot on the couch beside Linny. Frowning, she pointed to a box that appeared to contain a chainsaw, and another labeled, Belly Blaster Abdominal Trainer. “This is crazy.”
Linny gave a palms-up shrug. “I’m afraid she’s going to turn into one of those hoarders, like on TV.”
“I know. I asked Jerry to talk with her, but I’ll bet he hasn’t.” Kate pinched her bottom lip. “We need a plan, and soon. Could we do an intervention for yard sale-ing?”
“I don’t know.” Linny scrabbled around in her head, trying to think of what else they could do. “Maybe that could work.”
Her sister’s purse dinged, and she extracted her cell. “Hey, sweets,” she chirped, but then her smile dimmed. “Fine. Fine. I don’t care. Yes.” She ended the call with a vicious jab of her finger.
Linny winced, and guessed. “Jerry has to work late and can’t make it?”
“You got it.” Kate’s voice was tight.
She reached over and touched her sister’s narrow shoulder. “I’m sorry, girl.”
Kate pasted on a wan smile when their mauve-clad mother whisked into the room. A few moments later, they buckled into the Volvo, and headed off into the evening.
When they pulled onto State Street Dottie gazed up at the ornate marquis of the Imperial Theatre, and brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, this brings back memories. Your daddy and I had our first real date here.”
Linny shot her sister a puzzled look. “You never told us that, Mama.” That seemed like an important detail to not know about her parents.
“Mama, how come you never talk much about Daddy?” Kate asked tentatively.
Her mother snapped, “I’m not sure what business that is of yours.”
The sisters exchanged shocked glances.
Her mother looked away for a moment, and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Katie. Let’s go out for dessert later. It’s time you girls knew some things.”
Linny gave her sister a sidelong glance, and raised a brow. Kate looked mystified and gave an almost indiscernible shrug.
Although the play was fun and frothy, Linny had trouble concentrating, wondering what her mother might tell her. She glanced over at Kate, who looked absorbed in the play, but her knee kept jiggling.
At Marnie’s Café, they dug in to their desserts and sipped their coffee. Dottie patted her mouth with her napkin and looked unsmilingly at them. “You asked about your daddy, and it’s time I spoke plainly to you.” She took a sip of ice water, and her hand trembled slightly.
Linny tensed, sensing her world was about to tilt on its axis.
“When I was seventeen, my brother introduced me to Boyd, I looked at his green eyes and thought he was so perfect a boy, I could only stammer. He probably thought I was touched.” Dottie rolled her eyes. “A group of us went to the Imperial to see a movie. Your daddy steered me up to the balcony so we could sit by ourselves.” She sighed wistfully. “Just as the movie was about to start, he said, ‘Dottie, I’m going to marry you.’ He was so matter-of-fact!” She shook her head. “But I knew it too, the first time I saw him.”
Momentarily forgetting her sense of foreboding, Linny leaned forward and asked, “How did you know?” She could use any man-picking tips she could get.
“It was just a strong, sure feeling I had.” Her mother touched her thin, gold wedding band. “We were married that next fall.”
“I love this story, Mama. Go on,” Kate said softly.
“You might not love it later on,” her mother said in a flat voice.
“We had some good years, but we had two problems.” Dottie’s shoulders drooped. “The first was that he worked a lot. Probably from coming up so poor, he had this need to be successful. He got to be manager at the hardware store, and did carpenter work on the weekends to bring in extra money. Later on, he started building houses. He was away from home a lot of the time, and we argued about that.”
This story jibed with the memories she’d been having lately. Linny’s stomach tightened, and she was scared of what she might hear next. She found herself babbling. “He was home some, though. I remember riding to the hardware store with him and him teaching me to throw a ball and . . .” She trailed off, surprised that her voice sounded like that of a ten-year old girl.
“He wasn’t always gone, sugar.” Her mother patted her hand.
Taking a sip of ice water, Linny did a mental scan for other family memories.
A scene came to her as clearly as a movie clip—she and Kate as skinny-legged girls, wearing seersucker shorts sets and white Keds, peering out the screen door, waiting for him to come home. They’d squeal when they saw his truck turn in the driveway, and jump up and down. ‘Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!’
As their father stepped from the truck, he’d scoop them up in his arms. “How are my two favorite daughters?”
Breathless with laughter, they’d respond in unison, “You only have two daughters!”
Gently lowering them to the ground, he’d rub his chin and give an exaggerated look of puzzlement. “By Golly, you’re right!” The remark sent them into giggling hilarity.
A second scene came t
o her. She was sitting in the limb of the tree beside the driveway, pretending to read To Kill a Mockingbird but really fighting a forlorn feeling as she watched him drive off.
Her heart thudded as she thought about it. Other than the errands she ran with him, and a game or two of catch, most of her memories were of departures and homecomings, without a lot in the middle. “So he was away a lot working?”
Her mother stirred her cooling coffee. “He worked awful long hours, and he’d also take customers and cronies down to the river house. He called it business, but I called it ‘The Boys’ Club.’ They had a big ole time. They’d fish and hunt during deer season and duck season and turkey season . . .” Dottie gave a rueful laugh.
“That’s not funny, Mama,” Kate protested. “You’re saying he left the family alone a lot.”
“I know, shug,” her mother said softly. “I know.”
Other images flooded in, and Linny’s chest tightened. She remembered her mother hugging a tearful Kate, who was wearing a conical birthday hat cockeyed on her head. He’d missed his daughter’s birthday party. She saw the three of them at church almost every Sunday—no Daddy. Linny could almost hear the shouting match her parents had when he missed most of a week-long family vacation at Carolina Beach. Glancing at her mother’s faded eyes surrounded by a faint fan of crows’ feet, Linny realized her fifty-nine-year-old mother looked much older than her years, probably because of unhappiness. Linny blew out a sigh, feeling heavy sadness as she realized how empty parts of her mother’s marriage must have been—and how much she and Kate had missed. “I’m so sorry, Mama.”
“I was okay. I had you two, Dessie and Ruby, and my friends from church.” Dottie shrugged. “It was hardest on you two. Girls need their daddies, and he was always heading out the door.”
Linny thought about it, and felt a burn of anger in her stomach. Why had he left a perfectly good family alone so much, and why had her mother tolerated it? Her voice was sharp. “Why didn’t you make him come home more?”
