by Shawn Inmon
He glanced away, nervously, then focused on her.
“I always get a little flustered when I look at you. But, here’s what I wanted to say. Veronica McAllister, I think I love you.”
Chapter Thirty
Danny did not rush into a marriage proposal like Christopher had. He preferred to take things slower, consider them from all angles. Still, from that first dinner date at Artie’s, neither of them saw anyone else, and they spent more and more time together. They never spoke again about the time they were apart.
They dated steadily for a year and a half, and Danny decided he would pop the question on Christmas Day, 1963. Then, Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas that November, and the whole country went into a funk. He decided to wait, as he didn’t want that pall hanging over the beginning of their new life.
Instead, he waited for her birthday in March. Her birthday was on a Wednesday that year, so they didn’t have any big plans. Danny had asked her to go to Artie’s for a burger basket—their special place.
When he came to pick her up, he couldn’t wait any more. He got down on one knee in her living room, opened the small black box, and said, “Ronnie, will you? Will you make me the happiest man in America and marry me?”
Veronica did not immediately jump and squeal, and say, “Yes, yes, yes!” Instead, she smiled sweetly at Danny, sat down on the couch, and patted the cushion beside her. “Let’s talk a little first.”
Danny’s face fell. A talk was not what he had expected.
“What, Ronnie? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, you absolutely have not. I want to marry you. I do. But, I want us to have an understanding first.”
“Okay. Sure. Anything!”
“I’ve been at the tire shop for a few years now, and I like working there. But, even if I should choose to leave that job someday, I’m going to want to keep working somewhere else. I need to know if you’re going to be okay with having a wife that works.”
That sat Danny back a bit, and he didn’t answer immediately. “I didn’t know you would want to keep working.”
“That’s why we’re having this conversation now.”
“So, you want to keep working? I figured you worked to pay the rent. After we got married, you’d stay home and take care of the house.” He blushed a little. “And the kids, when they arrive. I’d work to pay our bills.”
The mention of kids was a small stab in Veronica’s heart.
“I know it will keep me busy, trying to work and keep up a house and dinner on the table. I like to be busy, though, and knitting circles and bridge groups aren’t for me. When we have kids to worry about, I’ll reconsider then.”
Danny shifted on the couch, clearly uncomfortable that his big moment had come to this. “I thought I’d be borrowing your phone to call Mom and Dad and tell them you said ‘yes’ right about now.”
“You still can, but don’t you think it’s better that we work this out in advance, instead of having it be a problem after we’re married?”
Danny nodded, slowly. “But, you do want to marry me?”
“Yes, honey, I do.”
His face brightened with a sudden idea. “Hey! How about this? Instead of working for the tire store, why don’t you come handle the books at the store? Then we could see each other all the time, and have lunch together, and that would be great, wouldn’t it?”
Veronica hesitated. This is hard for him. I guess it was hard for any young man in this era. Their mothers hadn’t worked, and they feel like it’s a mark against them if their wives do. But, if I work for the family business, he can justify that somehow. But, I remember how things changed for Christopher and I. Good at first, then worse and worse. If it gets like that for Danny and I, will seeing each other all the time really be great? I can’t go into something thinking it’s going to fail, though, or I should say ‘no’ to the whole thing right now.
Veronica reached out and took Danny’s hand. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you for thinking of it. I love you. I’d love to be your wife.”
THE BEATLES HAD INVADED America and youth culture took another giant step forward. The country would never be the same. Danny Coleman, a man built for the 1950s, maintained his steady approach, and his crew cut. He was the last person under the age of forty in Middle Falls to give up that particular haircut.
Veronica and Danny’s wedding was bigger and more formal than either of her weddings to Christopher had been. As the owner of one of the biggest businesses in Middle Falls, when a Coleman son got married, it was a social occasion.
By the time of the wedding, Danny’s father, Stan, had recovered from his heart attack enough to go back to work. It was hard to tell who was more excited about him getting out of the house—Stan himself, or Danny’s mother, Thelma. The smart money was on Thelma, who was thrilled to have her house to herself again during the day.
When the last handful of rice was thrown on their wedding day, Veronica and Danny left on a honeymoon trip to New York. Neither of them had ever been to the east coast, or seen a city the size of New York. They took a horse-drawn carriage trip through Central Park, rode an elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, ate hot dogs in Washington Square Park, and climbed the dizzying spiral staircase to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
When they had arrived in New York, they thought they would never be able to fit everything they wanted to do in seven days. On the evening of the sixth, as they walked in a drizzling rain, back to their hotel, Veronica said, “It was a wonderful time.”
“What? Seeing Fiddler on the Roof?” Danny shifted his umbrella to make sure no rain hit Veronica.
“Well, yes, it was a dream come true, seeing that on Broadway.” Can’t tell him I owned first the VHS tape, then the DVD of the movie starring Topol. It was a thrill to see Zero Mostel do it. I think I could move to Greenwich Village, and take a bus up to the theater district and see a different play every night, and I’d be happy. Then, a vision of buttoned-down Danny, living in the Village and rubbing elbows with the beatniks popped into her mind and she couldn’t help but giggle a little.
“What? What’s funny?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the thought that no matter how wonderful a trip is, it will be even better to get home and get moved in to our new house.”
They had closed on a nice house in his parents’ neighborhood a few days before the wedding,. They had decided to wait until they got back from the honeymoon to spend their first night there.
“I asked Dad to have someone drive over and turn the heat on, so it’s not freezing cold when we get home tomorrow night.”
“You are a thoughtful man, husband of mine.” And this can truly be our house, unlike when I moved into Christopher’s and always felt like I was an intruder. “I can’t wait to get home and make our house a home.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Veronica had given her notice at the tire shop a month before the wedding. She started as a bookkeeper at Coleman furniture the Monday after they got back from their honeymoon.
Her marriage to Danny Coleman was much better than either of her marriages to Christopher Belkins. But then, any cross-Atlantic ship that doesn’t sink is better than the maiden voyage of the Titanic. The old saying is that a man marries a woman, hoping she won’t change, while a woman marries a man, hoping he will. Veronica didn’t want Danny to change, but she hoped that over time, they would develop more mutual interests—a hobby, books they both read, travel, something.
Instead, as the years passed, they drifted apart. Danny’s father passed away from another heart attack in 1972, and Danny worked even more tirelessly to grow the business. He had dreams of expanding and turning Coleman’s Furniture into Coleman’s Department Store. Veronica continued to handle the books for almost ten years,. Eventually, she came to believe that all she was doing was putting someone who needed work out of a job. That’s when she decided to quit and stay home.
Over the years, there were never any harsh words between th
em, or fights, or even many arguments, but all the blood drained out of the marriage. Their life fell into habit. Routine. A day dissolved into a week, a month, a year, and soon the sixties were a thing of the past. Middle Falls stayed true to its small-town roots. Artie’s remained the anchor of the Friday and Saturday night cruise in Middle Falls. The only thing that changed was that the cars were a little newer, and the music a little heavier.
Veronica felt lost, floating in a sea of indifference, holding neither a map nor a compass. She returned to Middle Falls City College and took some classes on “Women in Business” and “Understanding Poetry,” but gave that up as a bad bit of business, too. She retreated to decorating the house and having coffee with Doris, Ruthie, or anyone else she could lasso. She thought of going back to Artie’s and asking Zimm if she could get a job carhopping again. Again, though, she would only be taking a job away from some teenager who needed it.
Danny sat down on their beautifully-appointed living room furniture one Saturday evening in January, 1979. He said, “We need to talk,”
Veronica felt a sense of relief more than anything. I don’t know what’s up, good or bad, but even something bad would almost be a welcome change of pace.
“Ronnie, when I asked you to be my wife, I told you that you were the sweetest, best person I knew. That’s still true.”
Oh, it’s this talk. I can’t be too surprised. We haven’t had a conversation about anything other than scheduling business trips, how dinner is, or what’s on TV tonight, for years. This is where that leads.
“But,” Danny continued, “it feels like we’ve both been growing in different directions for a long time. You have your Mom, and Ruthie, and your book club at the library. Meanwhile, I’ve poured myself into the business, traveling on buying trips, spending what feels like every waking minute at the store when I’m home.”
“You’ve been a good provider for us, and I appreciate that.”
That stopped Danny cold. He sat with his hands between his knees, his head hanging down. “That’s not enough, is it?”
“For a real marriage? No. That’s a start. Not being mean to each other is a start. But, neither of those things is enough to make a happy marriage. I think a happy marriage should involve shared interests, and in the end, what do we really have in common? We’ve always liked each other, and I think we still do, but what else? These past few years have been more like living with a roommate than a husband. I’m sure it’s the same for you.”
“Children would have made a difference.”
There’s the rub. Why didn’t we ever have kids? I had children before. Danny did too, in my first life. It should be possible for us to do it again this life, but it’s never happened, no matter how hard we tried early on. Without that to build a life around together, we each built a separate life, instead.
Veronica’s face softened. “Kids would have probably distracted us from having this conversation for another ten years, but we would have gotten here eventually.”
She scooted across the couch and laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Danny.”
That jarred him a little. “What do you have to be sorry about?”
Ah. So, it’s like that then, is it? You have something to be sorry about.
“Just that I feel like I could have found a way for us to stay connected, and I didn’t. So, there’s someone else, then?”
“No, not really.” He glanced quickly at Veronica. “Well ... “
Veronica held her hand up. A stop sign to that particular dark alley. “You don’t need to finish that sentence. I do still know you. You aren’t capable of doing something awful, like having an affair. But, the heart wants what the heart wants, and if you found somebody else, what’s the first thing you would do? Pray about it, maybe talk about it with your mom. And what’s the second thing? You would come to me to talk about it, because that’s who you are.” Unexpectedly, tears formed and fell. In a thick voice, she said, “And here you are.”
Danny didn’t speak, but his tears welled, too. He seemed truly torn, but eventually he nodded and looked at Veronica with guilty eyes. “Is this it, then?”
“This was the hard part. The divorce will be easy.”
AND SO IT WAS. THEIR marriage had been as quiet as a museum at midnight for the previous decade, and their divorce was the same. Danny felt guilty, and offered to let Veronica have the house. As much as she loved it, she didn’t need a three thousand square foot, four bedroom house. So, she suggested they sell it and share the proceeds, which they did. Between that, their shared savings, and her share of the portion of Coleman furniture that was Danny’s, Veronica started the next phase of her third life with a nice little nest egg.
She didn’t have to work for quite some time, if she didn’t want, but that was just the problem. She didn’t know what she wanted to do.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A number of things happened in October of 1979. Mother Teresa won the Nobel Peace Prize. The deposed Shah of Iran, Reeza Pahlavi, arrived in New York, an event that would have long-lasting consequences for both Iran and the United States. Charlie Smith, the world’s oldest man, died at a reported age of one hundred and thirty-seven years old.
A week later, Vera Miller, fifty-nine, the widow of Mr. William Miller and the mother of Ruthie Miller, likewise passed away. Unlike the death of Mr. Smith, Mrs. Miller’s death was premature and unexpected. She left for work on the morning of October 8th. She stopped at a red light at the intersection of Mayflower and Main, when an aneurysm in her brain burst. She died instantly.
Veronica spent the following weeks doing her best to put Ruthie back together again. She helped her arrange for the funeral and memorial service. She even stayed with her, so she didn’t have the shock of living in a too-quiet house so suddenly.
By then, Veronica’s divorce was final. The house she had shared with Danny was sold, and she, too, was at loose ends. Her bank account was fat, but her life was flat.
On Halloween night, she and Ruthie sat in the tiny living room in what was now Ruthie’s house. They handed out candy to the ghosts, witches, and various ghouls who haunted the streets of Middle Falls.
“It’s been a pretty lousy year so far,” Veronica noted.
Ruthie nodded. “First your marriage, now Mom. I don’t want to know what comes next.”
“I’ll tell you what’s next. We’re going to take charge of our own lives, that’s what.”
“We are?” Ruthie seemed doubtful.
Veronica took Ruthie’s hand. “Yes. We are. That’s it. And I think we should start changing our lives by you quitting your job as Lunch Lady Ruthie.”
“What? Oh, no. I don’t think I could ever do that. I’ve got bills to pay.”
“Oh, right. A mortgage on this house?”
“Well, no. Mom had just managed to pay it off.” The thought washed over Ruthie’s face and she looked away.
“I know. I was here when we burned the mortgage paperwork in the barbecue. I’m asking the question to make a point.”
Ruthie nodded, still looking away.
“Do you have a big car payment, then?”
“Come on, Ronnie. You know I don’t. My car’s been paid off for more than a year.”
“Right. You’re making my point for me. So, what are all these big bills you’ve got, then?”
“Well, I’ve still got insurance on the car and the house, the light bill, and I still have to eat.”
“So,” Veronica said, her excitement building, “if we were to sell your house and car, what would we have?”
“A homeless, unemployed bum?”
The doorbell rang and Veronica said, “Hold that thought.” She jumped up, grabbed the bowl of candy and opened the door to a young boy dressed as a hippy. He was wearing striped bell bottoms, a leather vest, and what looked like his mother’s wig. He flashed Veronica a peace sign and said, “Trick or treat, man.”
Veronica chuckled and dropped a Tootsie Roll into his bag.
“I don’t want to hold onto the thought of being a broke, unemployed, homeless person, you know.”
Veronica sat down on the couch again and spread her hands in front of her as though she was sharing a magical vision of the future. “Think about this. You quit your job and sell your house, so you’ve got a little change in your pocket. My divorce is final and my house is sold, too, so I’m in the same boat.”
“Homeless and unemployed?”
“Hush. No, footloose and fancy free. I think what we need is a break. You don’t have to sell your house, of course. We could shut it up tight for a while. The grass doesn’t grow in the wintertime, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that. You could park your car in the garage, and everything would be good. This isn’t some crazy, spur of the moment adventure.” Veronica stopped, considered, then said, “Okay, maybe it is, but hear me out.”
Another knock at the door, another candy delivery, this time to a tiny girl dressed like a fairy.
“I’m lucky to have more money than I need right at the moment. Not enough to never have to work again, but enough to not worry about it for a good long while. I want to get away. No. Wait. I need to get away. But, it will be absolutely zero fun to do that all by myself. So, I want you to come with me. The whole trip will be on me. I’ll pay for our airplane tickets, our hotel, and as much booze as you want.”
“Which would be zero. I haven’t drunk alcohol since I threw up after drinking too much Boone’s Farm in eighth grade.” She shuddered at the thought of it.
“And that’s fine, too. But think about it.” She once again waved her hands like a magician conjuring a magic image. “Sun, sand, a cold, perfectly non-alcoholic drink sitting on the table beside us. We’re slathered in suntan lotion and every good-looking guy in the area is checking us out.”
