All's Well That Ends Well

by Roseanne Dowell

  He took his place in front of the podium, turned to us, cleared his throat and began in the quietest voice I’ve ever heard Ed use. “Dear friends, I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Norman for only a short time compared to most of you, but that doesn’t change the fact I thought of him as a brother. Norman had the gift to make you feel like you’d known him forever. He was a devoted husband, a loving father, a caring brother, and friend.” Ed took a breath, looked back at Norman and sighed.

  “Norman and I spoke about death one day. He said he wasn’t afraid to die. In fact, he looked forward to meeting God. I know he’s up there now, looking down on us and smiling. Norman had a great sense of humor. I’m sure more than one of you were the beneficiary of his jokes.

  “I remember a camping trip he put a just married sign on the back of mine and Bea’s tent. It took us almost a whole day before we figured out why everyone was congratulating us. And there was the time we spent a weekend at a resort. We opened our hotel room door and ran smack into a plastic table cloth stretched over the door. It took a while to tear it down. And if you ever went on vacation, you can be sure your house would be decorated with something when you returned. I bet all of you can come up with a joke or two that Norman played on you, too.”

  Ed paused and wiped his eyes before he continued. “Norman might be gone, but he’ll live on in our memories. That day we talked about death, he put his hand on my arm, looked me straight in the eyes, and told me he’d always be with us, and he could prove it. I asked him how he could prove it. Very simply, he said. When you see a bird flying overhead, gliding across the sky and it swoops down toward you, if it shits on your arm, you’ll know it’s me.”

  Ed turned around, touched his fingers to his lips, and caressed Norman’s hand. He walked back to his chair and sat down next to me, tears flowing freely down his cheek. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the room.

  Later, at the reception, Larry came up to us. “First, I want to thank you for the beautiful Eulogy, Ed. You described Norman to a tee. We’ll all miss him. Second, I want to thank you, Beatrice Lulu, for being such a good friend to Ruth. I know she thinks of you like a sister.”

  Taken aback by his compliment, I barely squeezed out a thank you. Larry and I dated for a short time in high school. He was a bit too namby pamby to me. Too nerdy, is the word I believe they use now days. Nice enough guy, just not for me.

  He married a year after college, lost his wife to a tragic accident five years later and never remarried. Not that he didn’t date. Oh no, Larry had a different woman on his arm every weekend. Played the field. Funny he’d never found anyone to replace Janelle. Pretty girl, she was, and totally smitten with Larry. Waited on him hand and foot.

  A younger woman caught my eye. I’d noticed her in church, sitting alone and sobbing quietly. I wondered who she was. No one spoke to her. She took a handful of cookies and left. Strange.

  After the reception, we all went to Mama’s. After such a somber occasion, no one wanted to go home. We needed to lighten the mood. Thank goodness Ed lightened it a bit with his eulogy. If we didn’t laugh, we’d explode.

  Kyle, Ethel’s son, came in and sat down. Somehow or other the talk turned to age and comparing them with cars.

  “I’m a modern sleek Camaro,” Susan said.

  “That must make me a classic car,” Ethel set a bowl of chips on the table.

  “Nah,” Kyle said. “You’re a historical car, Mom.”

  “So what does that make me, Kyle?” Mama set a plate of veggies on the table and ruffled his head.

  “Well,” he said. “Your day is done, Gram. You’re in a museum.”

  Good thing Mama has a good sense of humor.

  Ed came in, rubbed my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “You about ready, honey pot? I’m beat.”

  “Sure.” I stood, kissed everyone goodbye and we left. It’d been a long day. Quite exhausting.

  Chapter Five

  I finished making the toast just as Ed came in the kitchen. How I’d ever live without that man I’d never know and prayed it would be years before I found out. Helping my friends these last few days made me doubly appreciative of Ed. Not that I didn’t appreciate him before, believe me, I did. I guess it takes a tragedy to thank God for your blessings.

  He kissed me good morning. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

  “I promised to help Ruth go through some papers. Are you going up to the cabin again?”

  “Yeah, I want to get started on the roof before it gets too cold. I’ll probably be home late, so don’t worry about dinner. I’ll pack something.”

  “You be careful up there and don’t go falling down the chimney.”

  Ed laughed. “I guarantee I won’t. But at least you’ll know where to look for me.”

  After breakfast, I gathered up my things and got ready for the day. This was by far the hardest thing I’d ever done. Ruth amazed me with her strength. Although I had a feeling Norman’s death hadn’t really hit her yet. Going through the motions of the funeral, talking to people, all seemed rote. Did she even comprehend what people said to her? I thought not. Larry and Shirley never left her side. Now everyone was gone. The house was quiet. The last casserole had been removed. Friends and neighbors all went on with their own lives.

  Last night was the first night she’d been alone since Norman passed. Now the grief would set in. I read somewhere there were seven stages of grief. If memory serves the first is shock and denial. More than likely Ruth hadn’t even hit that stage yet. Shock, yes. But with everyone gathered around constantly, did she even have time to grasp what happened?

  I tried to convince her to let things sit for a few weeks at least, but she insisted the sooner she went through the papers and got her finances in order the better. As far as the finances, I wished she’d wait until Shirley came back. More than likely Norman had paid the bills for the month and if the light bill didn’t get paid until next month, it was no big deal. But she insisted and asked for my help.

  How could I refuse?

  Always one to get an early start, I arrived just before nine. More than likely Ruth hadn’t slept much last night. She opened the door, eyes red and swollen. I came in and hugged her. She broke down.

  After a few minutes, she composed herself. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure. Listen, Ruth, if you’re not up to this, we can wait.” I followed her into the kitchen.

  “No. I have to do this. I want to get everything in order and then I’m going to look for a job.”

  My shock must have shown on my face. Ruth laughed. “No, I don’t have to work. Norman left me quite well off. His insurance policy alone will last beyond retirement if I don’t spend it foolishly. I always wanted to work, but Norman wouldn’t hear of it.”

  That surprised me. Something she’d never revealed before. “You wanted a job?”

  Ruth sat down opposite me. “I’ve wanted to work since Shirley started school, but Norman said it would look like he couldn’t support us.” She laughed. “He told me to get a hobby. That’s why I took up quilting. He doesn’t know it, but I taught a few classes at the quilt shop. Loretta paid me well for those classes.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Ruth sure had me fooled. All these years I thought she depended on Norman. Worshipped him. Guess what they say that you never really know someone is true. There’s that ‘they’ again.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. Loretta offered me a full time position at her shop, but I want something different. Something more. I love quilting, but it’s a hobby. I thought maybe a secretarial position some place.”

  I shook my head in amazement. “Any prospects?”

  “Not yet.” Ruth picked up her coffee. “Let’s go in Norman’s office. I want to get started.”

  Was this part of the denial? Get a job, work, and pretend it never happened? I followed her into the office. I’d never been in here before. Ruth called it Norman’s Sacred Place. Even
she wasn’t allowed in except to clean.

  Lordy, the beauty of the room took my breath away. A black leather chair sat behind a huge mahogany desk flanked by floor to ceiling bookshelves. Some of the books looked like first editions. Across the room on either side of a fireplace sat two Queen Anne red leather chairs. The sea foam green walls contrasted beautifully with the cream draperies. Light from the two windows bathed the room in a warm glow. Either Norman or Ruth had a flair for decorating. A table between the two windows held a crystal lamp.

  “I’ll start in the file cabinet.” Ruth pulled open the front of the table to expose drawers filled with files. No one would ever have guessed the table doubled as a file cabinet.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Start on his desk. The keys are in the humidor. Norman didn’t smoke but he liked the way it looked, so he stored his keys in there.”

  Going through Norman’s personal possessions didn’t feel right. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Shirley?”

  Ruth sat back and looked at me. “Shirley doesn’t want to do it. She suggested I ask you for help.”

  That astonished me. Why wouldn’t Shirley want to help her mother? Why would she want me to go through her father’s stuff? Far be it from me to question her. I unlocked the middle drawer. Not much in there. A few pens, some paper clips, a bankbook. I set the bankbook on the desk. Norman’s finances weren’t any of my business. “Here’s the check book. You can go through the register later.”

  Ruth stood. “Check book? I have his check book. Let me see that.”

  I tossed it to her. Apparently Norman kept two accounts. Well, none of my business. I pulled open the top left drawer. Envelopes, yellow legal pads and black and white photos. Yes, I looked at the pictures. Wouldn’t anyone? The lady in the picture looked vaguely familiar. “Ruth, do you know this woman?”

  Ruth took the picture. “Never seen her before.” She turned the picture over. “Sylvia. Hmm. Wonder who she is.”

  I didn’t want to show Ruth the other five pictures, Norman was in them. This was not just a friend. I slid them into my pocket and kept going through the drawer. Maybe one of the files held the answer to who she was. Client? I didn’t think so. Norman went out of town on business for a week each month. Was he fooling around on the side? Not the Norman I knew, but who really knew anyone?

  Ruth tossed the picture back on the desk. “I have no idea who she is. Looks young.”

  Although my friend sounded calm, her face showed concern. No way was I showing her those other pictures. Not until I got to the bottom of this. That drawer empty, I opened the next one. Files. Were these work related? I opened one, hoping I wouldn’t find something else I didn’t want to see. Invoices. They looked innocent enough. Looked like every purchase Norman ever made. Computers, DVD players, Televisions, Refrigerator, Range, even carpeting. Some of them dated back to 1960.

  Another file held old check registers. Okay, it wasn’t none of my business, but curiosity got the better of me. I opened one. Dated back three years. One check was written to Sylvia Calhoun. Who the hell was Sylvia Calhoun? Sister in law? Larry hadn’t remarried that I knew of. Of course, I didn’t know everything about Larry. Besides, Ruth said she didn’t know Sylvia. Did Larry have a secret wife? Was Norman protecting his brother?

  I flipped through more of the register. Several more checks to Sylvia. Large amounts. Looked like one a month. I glanced at the check book on the desk. Something odd going on here. Ruth looked occupied with the files she sorted through. I was tempted to grab the check book, but thought better of it. I looked at the clock, lunchtime. If Ruth went to fix something to eat, it would give me a chance to look through it.

  “I’m getting kind of hungry. You don’t happen to have any more of those casseroles left, do you?”

  “Actually, I do. I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll go heat one up. Would you rather have mac n cheese or tuna noodle?”

  “Mac n cheese sounds good.” Ruth would have to stay in the kitchen. Give me some time to go through that register. No more than she left the room, I grabbed it. Sure enough, once a month a check to Sylvia Calhoun, much larger amounts than the old ones.

  Now to figure out who she was and why Norman wrote her a check each month. More importantly, why he hid this check book from Ruth. Woman looked to be only about thirty. Much too young for Norman. Hell, Shirley was only 28.

  Suddenly, I remembered. She was the woman at the funeral, sobbing. The one who took the cookies and left. I put the check book back on the desk and turned my attention to the other files. I doubted Ruth wanted to save all these old invoices. Half the stuff they didn’t even own any more. Didn’t make much sense to save them.

  Ruth came to the doorway. “Time to eat. Come on, take a break.”

  Suited me just fine. Never would have thought sorting through old papers could make you so tired. Ruth looked plum wore out. Poor thing. Who knew when she last slept a whole night through. “Why don’t you take a nap after lunch? It looks like you’re about done with that file cabinet and I can finish the desk. When you get up, we can go out to dinner.”

  “I’m half tempted to refuse, but honestly I’m so tired. Having all that company and the funeral wore me out. I swear if one more person said, thank God he didn’t suffer or he’s in a better place, I would have screamed. God strike me dead if ever I say that to anyone again.”

  I tried to think back to the things I’d said. Not that it mattered, it was over and done with, but good grief, what’s one supposed to say under the circumstances? It’s not any easier for us. Nothing we say is gonna make a difference, yet we’re expected to say something. Aren’t we?

  After lunch, Ruth took me up on the offer to lie down. I went back to Norman’s office and looked around. The books drew me. I’d always loved books. I ran my hand over some of the soft leather bindings. Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Dickens, Thoreau, Tennyson, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Beautiful leather bound volumes.

  I ran my hand over John Steinbeck’s East of Eden and picked up Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea. I remembered reading the book, remembered seeing the movie with Spencer Tracy. I took it from the shelf and opened it. A card fell out.

  My heart raced. It was addressed to Norman with a return address from Sylvia. I picked it up, turned it over and opened it. A birthday card signed love, Sylvia, Jace, Olivia, and Rudy. Who were these people? Why send Norman a birthday card? More importantly, why did he hide it in a book? I shoved it in my pocket with the pictures.

  Until I knew who Sylvia was, I wasn’t sharing this information with Ruth. She had enough to deal with right now. The return address was from Deweyville, a good eight hours away. Why did that name sound familiar?

  I put the book back on the shelf. What treasures did the other volumes hold? It would be interesting to find out, but I didn’t have time right now. I needed to accomplish something before Ruth woke up. Back at the desk, I opened the next drawer. More file folders holding yet more receipts and invoices. Did this man save everything? At least it was organized.

  Next thing I knew almost two hours passed and Ruth came in, looking more refreshed than she had in a long time.

  “Wow, you got a lot done while I napped.”

  “I just hope I didn’t throw out anything you needed. I made a stack of things for you to go through. Things I wasn’t sure about.” I pointed to a pile on the desk. “Norman was quite the hoarder, but very organized. Not only were these sorted by year, they were sorted by category. Appliances, Electrical, Entertainment. He even alphabetized them.”

  Ruth laughed. “Yes, he was quite neurotic about that. He said it was because everything was so scattered and messy when he was growing up. He couldn’t stand disorganization. If I left anything out of place when we first got married, he had a fit. I learned early on to keeps things neat and tidy.”

  Her voice held a note of sarcasm. All wasn’t flawless in their marriage. Not that any marriage is perfect, but Ruth and Norman por
trayed the ideal couple. I wondered why Shirley refused to help with the office. Something seemed amiss.

  “Since I’m done here, I’d like to go home and freshen up, then we can go to dinner. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure. I have a few calls I need to make, also.” Ruth’s gaze strayed to the desk top, right to the check book.

  I gathered my purse and car keys, gave Ruth a hug. “I’ll be back soon. I’m glad you got some rest.”

  Ruth crushed me with her hug, pulled away and looked me straight in the eye. “That woman, the one in the picture, she was at the funeral, wasn’t she?”

  Phew, talk about being blind-sided. As Ed was fond of saying, I’m a lousy liar. Besides, I’d never lie about something like this. “I believe she was.”

  “She sat by herself, didn’t she? She was sobbing. I wondered who she was. I was even going to talk to her but she disappeared.”

  So Ruth had noticed her. I wondered about that. She was more aware of her surroundings than I thought. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Go change.” Ruth picked up the check book and flipped through the register.

  She’d probably be upset when she found out I hid the pictures and the card. But if I could help it, she’d never find out. I punched in Ethel’s number when I got into the car and put the phone on speaker.

  “Ethel, it’s me, Beatrice Lulu.”

  “I knew who it was, I have caller ID. What’s up?”

  “So how would you like to take a trip with me?”

  “Where and when?”

  “Deweyville tomorrow morning.”

  Deweyville? Tomorrow?”

  “Yes and yes. Are you going or not?”

  Ethel sighed. “Isn’t that where Norman went for his business trips? What are you looking for now, Beatrice Lulu?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Do you want to go?”

  “That’s quite a drive, how long will we be gone?”

  “Two, three days tops. But I don’t think it’ll take that long. I figure to leave around nine tomorrow morning.”