Until the End of Time: A Novel

by Danielle Steel

  “I wish I were as thin as you are,” Gretchen said wistfully, “and I like the way you dress. You should wear a little makeup, though.” She thought Jenny looked too pale, but was beautiful and had a natural elegance. And she had noticed the big gold cuff. She would have loved to have a bracelet like it.

  “I’ve been thin all my life, and I work too hard,” Jenny confessed. “I’m always stressed. There’s a lot of tension in the fashion industry. It’s going to be nice being here.” She almost said “for the next year,” but she and Bill didn’t want people to think that they were temporary, so the fact that they were trying it out for a year was something they planned to keep to themselves.

  Gretchen stood up regretfully after they’d talked for about an hour. “I’d better get back. I left my two youngest with my neighbor, and they’ve probably destroyed her house by now. I’ll come back and visit soon. Come over and see me sometime. Everyone knows where I live. Just ask,” she said, and gave Jenny a warm hug.

  “You’ll have to give me a refresher course about who’s sleeping with whom,” Jenny said, laughing, as she walked her to the kitchen door. “And thank you for the brownies and the cake. My husband will be thrilled.” Gretchen thought he seemed like a nice man too. She liked them both. They seemed like honest, wholesome, warm people, and she was impressed that they had come out from New York.

  Gretchen waved as she got into an old pickup that she said her husband had rebuilt. With five kids to feed, there weren’t a lot of luxuries in their life, although she said that Eddy did well at the garage.

  It had been a pleasant visit, and much to Jenny’s amazement, there were two more after that—an older woman who said she was a retired schoolteacher, and a young woman in her twenties with a baby in a stroller and a toddler on her hip. The schoolteacher had brought a lemon cake, and the young mother had just come to say hi. And Jenny noticed a nasty bruise along the side of her face. She said she had taken a fall off a horse. And Jenny guessed she couldn’t be more than twenty-five, and she said she had four kids. She didn’t stay long, and she seemed shy and nervous, but it was obvious that she had been anxious to meet Jenny. The young mother’s name was Debbie, and Jenny thought there was something very touching about her. She seemed so vulnerable that Jenny almost wanted to hug her. Instead they just chatted for a while, while Jenny played with the toddler to distract her, and Debbie nursed the baby. Afterward she put the baby in the stroller, and a few minutes later, they left.

  Jenny was thinking about Debbie when she hung the photograph in the living room, and Bill came home for lunch. It was already past noon, and the morning had flown by.

  “That’s nice,” Bill said admiring her work. “What have you been doing all morning?” he asked with interest.

  “Entertaining,” Jenny said, looking pleased. She wanted to meet the locals and members of Bill’s congregation. Everyone she had met so far was so kind and welcoming. “People keep dropping by and bringing us things to eat. I met a woman called Gretchen Marcus. They have five kids, and her husband Eddy owns the garage in Moose. A retired schoolteacher named Ellen brought us a lemon cake. Gretchen brought brownies and a chocolate cake. And a little girl named Debbie Blackman came by with two of her kids. She had a nasty bruise from falling off a horse. Gretchen makes it sound like half the town is alcoholic,” Jenny said, sharing all her new information with him, and he seemed surprised. “And the other half are sleeping with someone else’s husband,” she announced.

  “Wow, you have been busy! No one told me all that. What makes you think they’re all drunks?”

  “Gretchen was telling me who drinks too much and who’s having an affair. I couldn’t keep track. It sounds like there’s a lot of action around Moose.” Jenny smiled at her husband. It had been interesting meeting the three women, especially Gretchen, who seemed anxious to make friends, unlike Debbie, who was too young and seemed frightened, and the retired schoolteacher, who was adorable but ancient. “You should start an AA group at the church,” Jenny said, brightening. “Gretchen says the closest one is in Jackson Hole, which is a long way to go in the winter. Maybe we could start an Al-Anon group too.”

  “You sound like a minister’s wife already,” Bill said, kissing her. “I can’t keep up with you. If you want to start an AA group, go ahead. Whatever makes you happy. It can’t hurt.” And then Jenny’s face grew serious.

  “I think Debbie, the woman with the two kids, is sad and scared. She said she bruised her face falling off a horse, but she looked nervous when she talked about it,” Jenny said, looking concerned.

  “Take it easy, baby,” Bill told her gently. “We just got here, and it’s fine to try to help people and provide services, but we don’t want to intrude on their lives, or interfere where we shouldn’t. I don’t know these people yet, and they don’t know us. We have to go slow at first.” But slow had never been Jenny’s style. She called Azaya a short time later and asked her to get some material from AA, about how to start an AA group, and an Al-Anon group, the twelve-step group for people who were involved with alcoholics, and send it to her in Moose. Azaya was impressed with what Jenny wanted to do in Moose, and she brought her up to date on her clients, and said that all was well in New York. She said everything was under control, and Nelson had come in several times to help her.

  Jenny made Bill a sandwich after that, and he returned some calls. A member of the congregation wanted him to visit her sick father. A young couple wanted premarital counseling. An elderly man had just called to talk and sounded lonely. He didn’t ask Bill to visit, but Bill offered to come and see him sometime that week anyway. People were reaching out, which was gratifying to him, and Jenny was happy for him. His new congregants were responding to him and liked his style.

  She reminded him that she wanted to get to the mall that afternoon. There were some things she needed for the house, some hardware supplies, more furniture, and more hangers. And she was anxious to check out the local stores.

  “This isn’t Paris or New York,” he reminded her, but she liked practical things too. And she loved hardware stores. When they got to the mall, she had a ball, checking out all the stores, and they ran into Clay Roberts at a bookstore, where Jenny bought a book about abused women and domestic violence, and another one about AA. Bill introduced Jenny to him, and her eyes lit up immediately. After he was gone, she spoke conspiratorially to her husband.

  “He’s having an affair with a married woman in Cheyenne,” Jenny said, and Bill burst out laughing.

  “Are you serious? You got here yesterday. How do you know something like that? And how do you know it’s even true?”

  “My new best friend Gretchen told me. And it sounds like she knows the scoop on everyone,” Jenny told him with a mischievous smile.

  “Just watch out she doesn’t say things like that about you.”

  “Of course not,” Jenny said as they got back in the truck, and they stopped at a car dealership on the way out of town. She wanted to look around. She needed a car of her own, but she had no idea what she wanted, until she saw a bright yellow 1959 Chevy pickup truck sitting on the dealer’s floor. It was in perfect condition, the salesman said the engine had been rebuilt, and the upholstery looked almost new. “It’s exactly what I wanted,” Jenny said with delight. It was funny and crazy and a little bit eccentric. And the dealer had already put snow tires on it for the winter.

  “You should get something new,” Bill told her. “I don’t want you driving around in some twenty-year-old relic. Driving conditions are bad here in winter.”

  “It has snow tires,” she pointed out to him. “It’s only sixteen years old, not twenty. And I love the color.” Bill rolled his eyes at the way women bought cars, and Jenny wrote a check from her own money. The old Chevy truck was ridiculously cheap, and she thought it was adorable. And buying a truck like that seemed so “Jenny” to him, it had humor and style and was something different. To most people it would have just been an old truck. But with Jenny driving, th
e yellow pickup suddenly seemed humorous and chic. He could see why she loved it. She followed him home and parked right behind him when they got to the house. He knew that she’d be famous in the area as soon as she started driving her new yellow truck. Jenny was a minister’s wife who was not going to go unnoticed, but that was why he loved her. And they talked animatedly over dinner that night. She had lots of bright ideas about how to help him. And as they sampled all the cakes they’d been given, Jenny came up with another idea.

  “Why don’t we have a potluck lunch after church on Sunday?”

  “At the house?” Bill looked shocked at the idea. The house was much too small to accommodate the entire congregation. Not to mention, who would clean up after they left? There were no fancy New York caterers in Moose, Wyoming.

  “No, at the church. There’s a nice big hall in the basement. I looked. Gretchen said they used to have church socials there. It would be a nice way to meet everyone. I’ll tell everyone to bring one dish. They don’t have to come if they don’t want to. But at least we can extend the invitation.” Bill was watching her with obvious pleasure. She had stepped right into her new role with ease. She was organizing potluck lunches, starting AA groups, and making friends among the local women. And she had bought a few things that afternoon to spruce up the house a little, which, along with the things she had sent from New York, made it look really pretty and suddenly like home. Jenny had a magical touch wherever she went. And he could see that Moose was about to get a dose of her magic. He loved it. And all he could think as he listened to her was “Watch out, Moose, Wyoming! Here comes Jenny!”

  Chapter 8

  Jenny managed to call the entire congregation the next day to tell them about the potluck lunch she was organizing after the Sunday service. She told them that she and Bill were looking forward to meeting everyone. Many of them sounded startled to hear from her. And she sounded so at ease. No one had done anything like it before, and certainly not so soon after they’d arrived, but Jenny never let the grass grow under her feet. And Bill could see that she would find a way to be as busy in Wyoming as she had been in New York, and all to help him. Only a few people were less than friendly, and most of the people on her list thought it was a good idea. She had used the church roster, and by three o’clock she had called them all and told everyone to bring one dish. She was even thinking about doing something like it once a month, or a potluck dinner.

  Several of the women she contacted had asked her if she had children and were disappointed she didn’t. But she also thought it would be a good idea to do things at the church for young people, especially teenagers, to keep them out of trouble. She had a million bright ideas. And Gretchen had been thrilled when she called her, when Jenny got to her name on the list. She told her she thought it was a fine idea, and promised to drop by again later that week and help her run it. She said she would have Eddy organize a clean-up crew, since they knew who the most efficient people were, and she volunteered two of her kids, her twelve- and fourteen-year-old sons. “There’s no point having five kids if you can’t put them to work,” she said gamely, and told Jenny again what a good idea she thought it was. She loved how involved Jenny wanted to be. Their last minister had died a year before. He’d been in his late seventies and had been a widower for fifteen years. They had all agreed that they needed a younger minister, and their church needed a woman’s touch as well.

  Clay Roberts called Bill the next day and told him how pleased he was with what Jenny was doing, and he said he’d come to lunch on Sunday. Bill reported it to Jenny, and then he said wryly, “I didn’t tell him to bring the married woman from Cheyenne that he’s allegedly having an affair with.”

  “Damn,” Jenny said, looking disappointed, “you should have. I’d like to meet her.”

  “I bet you would.” He rolled his eyes and then put his arms around her. “You’re busy enough without checking out the love life of the president of the church board.” He chuckled as he said it.

  And the next day the material Azaya had sent her, on AA and Al-Anon groups, arrived by Federal Express with the address Jenny had given her, “Fifteen miles north of Moose, Wyoming.” Much to Jenny’s amazement, it had actually worked. And she’d also gotten an envelope of fabrics to look at for her clients. The AA material Azaya had sent her was very interesting. It told her how to start a twelve-step group, the format, the rules, and various suggestions. The purpose of the AA group was to give up drinking, and Al-Anon was to support those involved with alcoholics. The groups seemed surprisingly simple to set up. All they needed was a secretary of the meeting, and she could be it. There was a set format to follow. And in time she could hand over the AA group to a recovering alcoholic, but until they had one who was willing to run it, Jenny was planning to do it herself, and the Al-Anon group as well. And with Bill’s permission, she posted a notice announcing both meetings in the entrance to the church, just inside the main doors, where people would see them. She offered one on Tuesday night and the other on Thursday. And because she had no children, she had more time to spend, organizing things that would help Bill with his congregation.

  She called Gretchen and told her about both meetings.

  “Good for you!” Gretchen praised her. “Probably no one will show up at first. But if you keep sitting there for long enough, some Tuesday or Thursday people will start coming. That’s how it works. I know, my father was an alcoholic, and my mom and I used to go to Al-Anon meetings. My father never made it to AA. He died of cirrhosis at forty-five. I can run some of the Al-Anon meetings for you if you want, if Eddy can stay with the kids and doesn’t have to work late. He’s always great about helping me out.” Jenny could already tell they had a solid relationship, and he sounded like a good man, from what Gretchen said.

  “I’d love that,” Jenny said, grateful for the help from her new friend, and the wealth of information she provided. “What do you know about Debbie Blackman, by the way? She dropped by here the same day you did. She had a big bruise on her face. I was kind of worried about it. She seems so shy and scared.”

  “Her husband Tony is a drunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it. He was kind of a juvenile delinquent, went to jail for drunk driving a few times, used to get into bar fights. She’s a lot younger than I am, so I don’t know her that well.”

  “She seems like a sweet girl. She looked nervous. I think she said she has four kids.”

  “I see her around town, but I don’t really talk to her. She’s about twenty-five years old. She’s just a kid. She was a waitress at the coffee shop until she got married. Her husband could probably use your AA group. And Al-Anon wouldn’t do her any harm. It really helped me and my mom.”

  “Maybe we should put together a group for abused women,” Jenny said, sounding pensive. “Is there a lot of that around here?”

  “Some. It relates to the drinking. If you get the guys into AA, they won’t abuse their women. Or get the women into Al-Anon. And there are plenty of women who drink too much too. People get bored when they’re snowed in all winter. They screw like rabbits and get drunk on weekends. There aren’t a lot of cultural activities around here,” she informed her. “No ballet, no symphony, no opera, no theater. Just sex, booze, and TV.” They both laughed at what she said, although the abuse issue was serious, and Jenny couldn’t help wondering how common it might be.

  She was touched when Debbie showed up again on Friday morning, this time with only the baby. It was a warm day, she was wearing a T-shirt and a down vest, and Jenny noticed that she had a fresh bruise on her arm. This time she didn’t explain it and Jenny pretended not to notice. She was pleased that Debbie felt comfortable enough to drop by again. She seemed intrigued by Jenny, and a little infatuated with her. She looked as though she felt safe sitting in her kitchen, talking about nothing in particular as she nursed her baby. He was four months old. Debbie said she didn’t want to get pregnant again. She had all she could handle with four kids. And she didn’t say a word about her husb
and, except that they had gone to high school together, and got married when she got pregnant right after graduation. She was twenty-four years old, and her oldest son was six. She also had a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and the baby.

  “You don’t want kids?” she asked Jenny with interest, but she looked as though she was afraid to offend her.

  “Yes, I do,” Jenny said quietly. “I had a hard time getting pregnant, and I had an ectopic pregnancy two months ago. It was kind of a big deal. We thought we’d wait a few months till we try again.” She didn’t say that it was one of the reasons they had decided to come to Wyoming. For a better, quieter life, so she might have a baby more easily.

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” Debbie said sympathetically, holding her sleeping baby, who had fallen asleep at her breast. She looked like a child herself, and the bruise on her arm looked nasty. Jenny thought she could discern a handprint in the shape of the bruise but she wasn’t sure, and she was afraid to ask her and frighten her from coming to visit again. She wanted to establish a bond with her and see if she could help her. The bruise on her face was fading, and Jenny could tell she had put makeup on it to conceal it. But the bruise on her arm was fresh and clear. Jenny was surprised she had worn short sleeves. Maybe no one paid attention to her bruises or cared.

  They talked for a while again, and then Debbie got up to leave. Jenny reminded her of the potluck lunch after church on Sunday and Debbie looked embarrassed.

  “My husband doesn’t like me to go to church. He thinks it’s stupid. I only go when he’s out with his friends. But Tony sleeps late on Sundays.”

  “Does he help you with the kids?” Debbie didn’t answer at first and then shook her head.

  “No, Tony works late. He’s a bartender at the bar in town.” Jenny thought to herself that it was a great job for a drunk, or an alcoholic. “He doesn’t come home till about two-thirty in the morning, so he sleeps late. He hates it when the kids wake him up, so I take them out in the morning. He expects me to be home in the afternoon, to make him dinner before he goes to work. Sometimes it gets pretty crazy with the kids.” Given the ages of her children, that was easy to believe, especially if he didn’t help her. “My mom gives me a hand sometimes, but my sister here in town has three kids, and she’s two years younger than I am, so between the two of us, we keep her busy. I have a sister in Cheyenne too.” Debbie smiled shyly, and put the baby in a car seat and carried him out to the car, with Jenny walking beside her. Debbie said she was driving her husband’s car while he was asleep. But when he was awake, she had no means of transportation for the kids. And she laughed when she saw Jenny’s new truck.