by Terri Reid
Becca placed her hands on Clarissa’s shoulders and gently moved her out of the embrace, so she could see her face. She knew Clarissa would be disappointed, but she needed to be honest with her daughter. “Darling, you won’t ever see Meri again because we are going to have to move,” she explained. “It’s not safe here anymore.”
“But where will we go?” Clarissa asked.
Becca pushed herself out of her chair and leaned against the table. “Let me count my tips,” she said, “and see how much money we have. Then I’ll be able to decide.”
Clarissa watched her mother struggle down the hallway into the living room. She heard the sound of Becca’s purse being emptied as coins jingled against the surface of the table. She didn’t want to leave. She liked Meri. She wanted to be part of the gypsy people. She wanted to be protected from people like Mrs. Gunderson and her nephew.
Then she remembered the look of worry on her mother’s face and she knew what she had to do. She picked up her backpack, reached inside and withdrew the envelope.
Becca divided the coins into piles of quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. Then she created stacks to make the tally easier. She started with the quarters and was relieved to find the stacks totaled twenty dollars. Now to count the dimes.
She heard Clarissa enter the room, but was concentrating on keeping the total in her head, so she didn’t pay attention to her until she saw the crumpled envelope slide towards her on the table.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s the babysitting money,” Clarissa said. “Mrs. Gunderson gave it back to me today.”
“But…I don’t understand,” Becca replied. “Why would she do that?”
“She said there was a mistake,” Clarissa said. “She said it was ours and she didn’t want it.”
Becca took the envelope and opened it, noting the bundle of dollar bills still clipped together. “Clarissa, this means we can go far away,” she said, a smile spreading on her face. “We can get bus tickets to Florida or Georgia. We can go somewhere no one can ever find us.”
Chapter Forty
Mary and Rosie, wrapped in large towels, sat on the back row in the sauna, inhaling the eucalyptus-scented steam. Mary leaned her head back against the wall and relaxed. “Rosie, this was an amazing idea,” she said. “I feel so relaxed.”
“Well, after what we’ve been through lately, I thought we both deserved a spa day,” she said. “Besides, I want to look my best tomorrow night.”
Mary smiled. “Poor Stanley won’t know what hit him.”
Rosie giggled. “I’m all about shock and awe,” she said. “I’m thinking about getting a little heart tattoo on my nether regions, what do you think?”
Choking, Mary sat up and turned to her friend. “You are not…”
“I don’t know,” Rosie said with a grin. “Stanley might like it.”
“Well, if it’s for Stanley, you ought to be getting a slice of pie tattoo,” Mary teased.
Rosie turned and looked over her shoulder. “Does this banana cream make my butt look fat?” she replied.
They both laughed and Mary resumed her relaxed state against the wall. “I am so happy for you, Rosie,” she said. “I think you and Stanley are going to be so happy together.”
Rosie leaned back too and nodded. “Underneath all of those grumbles, he really is a charming man,” she said.
“And he adores you,” Mary said. “It’s always wonderful when a man adores his wife.”
“Just like Bradley adores you,” Rosie added.
Mary grinned. “Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” she said. “I am so lucky.”
“Well, I think he’s lucky too,” Rosie added.
“And I think Stanley’s lucky,” Mary said.
“Well, he will be tomorrow night,” Rosie laughed.
“Rosie!” Mary said, her face turning red. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
Blotting away some of the perspiration with a thick face towel, Rosie turned to her friend. “Mary, there is nothing embarrassing about sex,” she said. “It’s the most beautiful, natural and fulfilling part of a relationship.”
“I have to admit, I’m a little worried about the whole wedding night thing,” Mary said. “I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
A gurgling laugh escaped Rosie’s lips. “Oh, sweetheart, there is no way you could do anything wrong,” she said. “The secret is…”
“What?” Mary asked, leaning closer.
She met Mary’s eyes. “The secret is to relax, communicate and enjoy. Don’t worry about performing or expectations. Sex is a bond that married people can share for a lifetime. It can be hot and nearly overwhelming, or it can be slow and tender. And, believe me, both ways are wonderful.”
She grinned at Mary and wagged her eyebrows. But Mary didn’t laugh, she looked even more nervous. Rosie sighed and her face sobered. “It’s the very best way to express love, but so many people get hung up on it, they don’t let themselves enjoy it. Don’t be afraid to talk with Bradley about it.”
“But, you know, he’s experienced,” she said. “And...well…I’m not.”
“And he’s going to be even more nervous because of that,” Rosie said.
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yes, because he’ll want to be sure it’s wonderful, for both of you.”
Sighing, Mary looked away for a moment, and then turned back. “I know I’m not…you know…competing with Jeannine. But, they were married for so long. What if…”
Rosie held her hand up and stopped her. “Sex is unique for every couple. Bradley’s experience with you will not be like his experience with Jeannine. And because it’s unique, he’ll be learning too. You both need to find out what works best for both of you.”
“How do we do that?”
“You talk to each other,” she said. “You let him know what feels good and he does the same.”
Mary sat up straight and stared at Rosie. “Really, we’re going to have a conversation while we’re…,” she broke off and her face turned red again.
Laughing, she shook her head. “Sweetie, I don’t think it’s going to be a conversation,” she said. “But you’ll be making sounds that he’ll understand and he’ll do the same.”
Mary tucked in the edge of her towel more securely and stood up. “Rosie, I think I’m even more confused,” she said.
“Trust me,” Rosie said. “Everything will be just wonderful and it will be worth the wait.”
Chapter Forty-One
“Rosie, just in time,” Stanley said, opening the door to his home even wider. “Please come in.”
She walked in, sliding off her coat, but froze in place after a few steps. “Stanley, what have you done to your home?” she asked.
The living room was totally different from the room she had seen only a few days earlier. Instead of a room and furnishings that looked over a decade old, the entire room had been remodeled. Soft warm colors on the wall and rugs, complemented leather furniture and oak tables with splashes of bright complementary colors in toss pillows and art.
“This looks like a room from out of a magazine,” she said.
“Well, I ain’t saying it does and I ain’t saying it don’t,” he said. “But I do think it looks a mite better in here, myself.”
She turned back to face him. “How did you get it all done so fast?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Called in a favor from Cal over at Rite-Way Furniture,” he said. “He’s got those interior decorator gals that work for him. They came over and lickity-split the whole room looked different.”
Walking over to her, he helped her take her coat off the rest of the way. After laying it over the back of the couch, he turned to her and took her hands in his. “They said you’d like it,” he said. “Do you? Do you like it Rosie?”
Smiling up at him, she stepped forward and kissed him. “Stanley, I love it,” she said. “I really love it.”
He breathed an audible sound of relie
f. “Well, that’s good,” he said. “Cause I really did want to make you happy.”
He kissed her and held her in his arms. “Rosie, I think I understand most of what Verda wanted,” he said. “I still don’t remember everything, but one thing I do know, she wanted you to understand who she was and what our life was like afore she died.”
Rosie smiled up at him. “I would love to learn more about you and Verda,” she said.
He led her to the small dining room and pulled out a chair for her. “I made us supper,” he said. “I haven’t cooked for a while. But, I think it’s good.”
“I’m sure I will enjoy it,” she replied.
“Okay, well, then I’ll be right back,” he said, hurrying to the kitchen.
Lying on the table, near her plate, was an old leather-bound photo album. Rosie pulled it closer, opened the first page and saw a black and white wedding photo. Although it was over fifty years old, she instantly recognized Stanley and smiled. What a hunk, she thought.
She looked at Verda, a petite woman with dark hair and sparkling eyes. She was sporting a bouffant hairstyle and her wedding dress was fitted through her bodice and then full skirted below, a very typical 50s style. Stanley, with a full head of hair, was wearing a black fedora, along with a tuxedo and a black bow tie. Well, aren’t you all Frank Sinatra.
Smiling, she turned to the next page. Stanley and Verda were standing in front of this house when they first bought it, clutching the “SOLD” sign in their hands. Verda was wearing a dress that looked like it stepped out of a Donna Reed rerun, but she looked perfect in it. Pearls and high heels, she thought. How in the world did she ever get anything done dressed like that?
The next page showed a smiling Verda holding up a tiny pair of crocheted baby booties. The next page started a collection of smaller photographs attached with Scotch tape and small black corner holders. From the first day of school to Thanksgiving dinner to Christmas morning, the photos were a wonderful history of Stanley’s first marriage.
“I didn’t mean to take so long,” Stanley’s apology came from the dining room doorway. “These dang potatoes just wouldn’t mash properly.”
He carried in a bowl of slightly runny, lumpy mashed potatoes and placed them in the middle of the table.
“They look delicious,” Rosie said, closing the album and sliding back in place.
Stanley pulled out the chair next to her and took her hands in his. “I know this dinner ain’t gonna be as good as what you can make,” he said. “But I wanted to make dinner for you, you know, to maybe show you how much I appreciate all you do for me.”
Leaning forward, she kissed him. “Thank you, Stanley,” she said. “I have a feeling that this is going to be the best dinner I’ve ever eaten.”
Nodding, he didn’t say a word, just stood up and walked out of the room. In a moment he was carrying a platter with meat loaf covered with ketchup and surrounded with green beans. “I saw on one of those cooking shows how you’re supposed to put the food on plate and make it look fancy,” he said. “So, I thought I’d try it with the green beans, ‘cepting I think the juice is getting the meat a mite soggy.”
Rosie bit back a smile and inhaled deeply. “Oh, it smells just delicious.”
Stanley filled her plate with about twice of what she usually ate and sat across from her, waiting anxiously for her to take her first bite.
She lifted a forkful of meatloaf. It had a very strong flavor of oregano and she thought she might have chewed on a piece of eggshell, but overall it wasn’t bad at all. She smiled up at him. “This is very good,” she said. “It has a slight oregano taste.”
Grinning and nodding, he leaned forward. “Yeah, the cookbook only said two tablespoons,” he said. “But I remember little green flecks being all throughout Verda’s meatloaf, so I added a cup of them. Thought it would taste better that way.”
Rosie thought Verda’s meatloaf must have included parsley, but she wasn’t going to say a word against the love-inspired meal. The potatoes were runny and the green beans were cold, but she loved every bite.
“Well, it weren’t the best meal I ever ate,” Stanley admitted.
Looking up from her empty plate, she shook her head. “Well, that’s funny, because it was certainly the best meal I ever ate,” she said. “And the love put into it made it even better.”
He shrugged, but his face glowed with pleasure. “Thank you, Rosie,” he said, leaning over and kissing her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “No, thank you, Stanley,” she said. “This was perfect.”
A moment later, Stanley pushed the dishes to the side and picked up the album. “I wanted to show you this,” he explained. “I guess I wanted you to know a little bit about where I come from.”
She placed her hands on the top of the album. “While you were in the kitchen I looked through it,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, but you didn’t mind?” he asked. “I mean, this don’t really have a lot to do with you and me.”
“Of course it does,” she replied. “This is your family, Stanley. These are your memories and they look like wonderful ones. I loved the photos of Christmas morning and all of the clever things Verda did for birthdays. She was a very creative woman.”
“You don’t mind?” he asked. “You ain’t jealous?”
She shook her head and sighed. “Stanley, I think I would have liked Verda if I had the chance to know her,” she said. “She seemed to have a wonderful sense of humor, she raised delighful children and she left you willing to love again, after she was gone. I think that’s fairly remarkable.”
Stanley looked down at the table for a moment, and then he met Rosie’s eyes. “I still can’t for the life of me remember what she wanted,” he said. “But I did clean up my office.”
“Well, if it’s important, you’ll remember,” she said. “Now, kiss me good-bye, so I can go home, get my beauty sleep and be ready for our wedding day.”
He leaned forward again and kissed her. “You don’t need no beauty sleep,” he said. “You’re already the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Oh, Stanley,” she sighed. “You say the nicest things.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Clarissa waited for her mother to come home. She had exciting news; she was going to be part of the spelling bee. It was going to be held the following week at school and she hoped her mother would be able to change her shift and see her spell on the stage. She’d been practicing all afternoon.
“Laughter. L-A-U-G-H-T-E-R,” she said and then she giggled. “Laughter.”
When she heard the lock rattle, she ran toward the door but stopped a few feet away when she saw her mother enter. Becca looked exhausted, her face was pale with a bluish tinge and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her breathing was labored and she fell against the wall once she closed and locked the door.
“Mommy, are you okay?” Clarissa asked, slowly coming forward.
Becca looked up, surprised. “Oh, darling, I didn’t see you,” she said slowly, trying to hide her heavy breathing. “I had such a busy day, I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
Clarissa put her arms around her mother’s waist and guided her to the couch. “Sit down, Mommy; I have some exciting news for you.”
Becca let her daughter lead her across the room, grateful for the support. She had felt light-headed all day; barely being able to catch her breath and her medicine did not seem to be working. She sat on the couch and Clarissa snuggled up next to her.
“Guess what, Mommy,” she said, “there’s going to be a spelling bee at school next week and I get to be in it.”
Becca laid her head against her daughter’s and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m so proud of you, dear,” she said. “But I’m afraid you are going to have to miss it.”
Clarissa sat up and pulled away slightly. “Why? I worked really hard. I know my words really well.”
“Darling, you aren’t
going to be attending that school anymore,” Becca explained. “You don’t even have to go to school tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow, as soon as I get off work and get paid, we are going to the bus station and we are going to take the bus all the way to Florida.”
“But, why are we going to Florida?” Clarissa asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Daddy’s angels won’t be able to find us if we go to Florida.”
Becca pulled Clarissa back into her embrace and rocked her for a few moments. “Darling, I’m so sorry,” she whispered into her hair. “I know you worked hard on your spelling. And I know you’ve been such a good girl. But, the bad man won’t find us if we go far away, to a place like Florida. And I think I would get better there. It’s warmer, so it would be easier for me to breathe.”
“But what about Daddy’s angels?” she asked.
Becca kissed the top of Clarissa’s head. “Oh, any angels sent by your daddy will be able to find us no matter where we go.”
“So, I can’t go back to my school and say good-bye to my teacher and my friends?”
“No, darling, you just stay home in the morning and then we can sneak away before anyone knows we’re gone,” she said. “The less people know, the better.”
Later that night Clarissa sat next to the window in her bedroom. The neon sign from the bar below was shining brightly and the scantily clad angel was flapping her wings. Clarissa searched in vain for the angel her daddy was going to send, but finally, she gave up and knelt next to her bed. She folded her arms and bent her head. “Dear God, This is Clarissa. Mommy says we are moving tomorrow, but my daddy might not know about it. Please tell him we are going to Florida, cause it’s warm and Mommy can breathe better. Tell Daddy to please send angels to Florida to take care of us there. And tell him I miss him. Amen.”
She climbed up into her bed and pulled the covers up. The apartment was silent for a moment, and then the coughing started again. She quickly slipped from her bed and knelt down again. “And please God, help Mommy to stop coughing. Amen.”
