A House Divided

by Sydell Voeller

  “Yes, Wendy.” He lifted the hood and peered inside the engine. “But I’m not the kind of doctor you’re probably thinking of. I take care of people’s minds.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting grease on your clothes?” Rebecca interjected before the conversation could get too far out of hand. Any talk about sick minds made her uneasy, especially when she’d made every attempt to try to explain August’s death to Wendy as tactfully as possible.

  “Nah. This should take only a second. Besides, a little grease never hurt anybody.”

  As he continued checking out the engine, Rebecca couldn’t help staring at his strong back and broad shoulders.

  A shudder passed down her spine. For the next several moments, they waited in expectant silence.

  At last he straightened and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to figure out what’s going on. Sure wish I could be more helpful.”

  “I guess I have no choice but to phone the car club.” Rebecca reached into her purse for her cell phone. “Hopefully there’s a tow truck available and a garage close by.” Back during high school, her father, an auto mechanic, had repaired all the family cars. She’d never had to worry much about incidents like this.

  “That’ll probably be Beck’s Auto Repair down on 15th,” Mark offered. “Beck started up the business a few years ago, and I trust him completely with both the Lexus and my Jeep—” He broke off. “Hey, wait a minute. How old is your car, anyway? About three years, maybe?”

  “Yes. I bought it a couple of years before my husband died.” She noticed him eyeing the corner on the driver’s side of the windshield. “What are you looking at?”

  “That sticker with the 1-800 number. Did you, by any chance, buy the extended warranty?”

  “Uh . . . yes.”

  “Then you need to call the number, make sure Beck’s authorized to repair Saturns, or you’ll lose it.”

  More flustered than ever, she gave an inward groan. She should’ve known that. Then, too, the extended warranty required a hundred-dollar deductible. Purchasing the cushions for Wendy’s bedroom might have to be put off for a while. At the thought, her heart sank.

  “So how long will it take to get our car fixed?” her daughter asked with a long face. “Does this mean we can’t go shopping now?”

  “Of course it doesn’t!” Jodie exclaimed. “Aunt Becca? May I please use your cell phone? I’ll call Mom and ask her to take us.”

  “Oh Jodie, honey, I don’t think that’ll be nec—”. But before she could go on, her niece had already snatched the phone out of her hand and was punching in her number.

  Rebecca’s mouth dropped open, but Mark only chuckled in amusement. “That’s what I like to see,” he said. “A female who’s not afraid to roll up her sleeves and get the job done.”

  “Mom! Hi! Guess What?” Jodie’s words tumbled out, one tripping over the other as she explained their predicament. “Mr. Simons is here right now, but he can’t figure out what’s wrong with the car, so Auntie Becca’s gonna have to have it towed . . . ” She broke off, then asked. “What? You say I’m supposed to call him Doctor Simons, not Mister Simons? Oh, okay! But the important thing is, Mom—“

  “Jodie,” Rebecca said above her chatter. “Tell your mother not to worry. We’ll get this all straightened out eventually. No, better yet. Let me talk with her.”

  “Okay, bye! And thanks heaps!” Jodie clicked off the phone and burst into a wide grin.

  “Jodie!”

  “Don’t worry, Auntie Becca. My mom said it’s all settled. She’ll be over in a few minutes and take us. Besides, you know how she loves to go shopping. She also said you and Doctor Simons can probably figure out what’s going on with the car better without a couple of kids hanging around.”

  She heard Mark laugh again and realized she was trapped now. Yes, trapped and humiliated, she silently fumed. Why had her carefully plotted plans caved in all about her? Still, she reminded herself, the girls would get to go on their shopping trip after all, and Missey would probably charge whatever cushions Wendy might take a liking to on her credit card. Hopefully that would give Rebecca about a month’s time to pay her back, especially now that she would have to come up with the deductible for the mechanic’s bill.

  And who knew? Undoubtedly, the girls considered this sudden change in plans even more of an adventure.

  The sound of Mark’s voice pulled her back. “How far away does your sister live? I could drop the girls off there, if she’d prefer.”

  “Thanks, but knowing Missey, I’m sure she’s already on her way. It shouldn’t take her long if traffic isn’t heavy.” She chuckled. “Besides, my sister tends to have a lead foot when it comes to the gas pedal.”

  He shared in her laughter.

  In no time, the girls had commandeered his attention again, and he chatted amicably with them.

  Rebecca welcomed the diversion. It gave her a moment to try to collect her frenzied thoughts. Yes, being here with Mark, especially under these circumstances, had definitely not been a part of the equation. Yet why couldn’t she dismiss the sudden realization she was actually enjoying it?

  * * *

  “I hope I haven’t disappointed you,” Rebecca told Mark a few minutes later after Missey and the girls left and her car had been hauled away. Now that the previous awkwardness had paled some, she found that old guilt resurfacing again.

  Mark stepped from the curb back onto the sidewalk, and she did the same. “Disappointed me about what?” he asked.

  “By not being more cooperative about the neighborhood meeting.” And my part in starting a petition against it, her conscience silently added. She sent him a wobbly smile. “I mean, you’ve gone out of your way to help us now, and I wouldn’t even let Wendy help you distribute a few flyers.”

  He rewarded her smile with one of his own. “Odd as it may sound, I understand. Not only is your reaction typical, I also had no business expecting to get your daughter involved. I guess I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “At least you’re going into it with your eyes wide open,” she offered. “You’re a savvy business man. You know what you’re up against.”

  He flashed her a disarming smile, and her heart tripped into double time. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He seemed eager to change the subject. “Are you still interested in finding a puppy?”

  “Umm . . . well, yes. Maybe. Why do you ask?”

  “I might be able to help you.” He paused. “I have a friend on the south side of town that breeds Welsh corgis. His name is Jerry Watkins, and we sometimes golf together. The last time I talked with him, a few weeks ago, he said there was a new litter on the way.”

  “Wonderful! Actually, my late husband and I considered getting a corgi back in L.A. We found one in a pet store when we were shopping with Wendy one day just before Christmas, and she fell in love with the dog on the spot. Unfortunately, we didn’t buy him then, and never even went back later.” She shrugged, knowing that must have sounded lame, but at least she was being truthful.

  “I’m sure Jerry will cut you a deal. His dogs don’t come cheap, of course, but I know he’ll treat you well, especially if I’m the one who sent you. Would you like me to take you to meet him this afternoon?”

  Her pulse quickened. Although the day hadn’t worked out the way she’d originally planned, the thought of spending the next couple of hours with Mark gave her a warm glow of pleasure. Besides, finding a puppy for Wendy would be such fun—not to mention a wonderful surprise for Wendy as well.

  “Do you think he’s home now?”

  “We’ll soon find out.” He checked his watch. “Jerry’s not the type that insists on a phone call ahead of time, so let’s just head out his way and see what gives. If he’s not home, we’ll just chalk it up to having a pleasant drive.”

  The drive there, as Mark has suggested, was a scenic jaunt outside of town. As they meandered down the twisting two-lane highway past the old mill pond, Mark pointed out the two rental
properties Norm McIntosh had mentioned during her first day back in town. Both homes, typical of those built in the sixties with their rustic, brown-stained siding and A-frame construction, were tucked back in on adjoining wooded lots overlooking the pond. On each home, spotty patches of moss covered high-pitched shake roofs. Floor-to-ceiling windows glinted in the mottled sunlight.

  “The cabins are good investments, but they’re getting to be a lot of up-keep,” Mark said as he slowed the car to check them out better. “That’s why I keep them listed with property management. Whenever something needs to be done, I just give them the go-ahead.”

  Rebecca couldn’t help but wonder why Mark had chosen to work with Norm McIntosh, given the relationship he’d once had with his daughter. It was probably just a matter of convenience, she decided, quickly dismissing the thought. As far as she knew, there was only one property management company in the entire city of Freemont.

  “Once the halfway house gets underway,” Rebecca said, “I imagine you’ll have even less time for your rentals.” Somehow that declaration made her feel all the more vulnerable. And disposable. Indeed, once the halfway house was approved, she and Wendy would be out the door, only to have to start all over again.

  “We’ll see what the future holds in store. At least the lot is large enough to build a third house if I should ever decide to go that route.” He shrugged. “Who knows? I might even decide to move out there someday myself.”

  “And it’ll be the house of your dreams?” Rebecca couldn’t resist teasing.

  He grinned. “Maybe.”

  In minutes they’d arrived at the dog breeder’s home. It was modest, bungalow style, and also tucked back into the woods.

  When Jerry Watkins answered their knock at his front door, a fawn colored dog, clearly a corgi, stayed close at his heels. Two black eyes, like shiny buttons, peered back at them. Two ears were perked at attention.

  Gazing down at the dog, Rebecca’s heart melted. In her mind’s eye, she could just see the pups, fuzzy bundles of fur that begged to be cuddled.

  The two men embraced each other in greeting, and then Jerry opened the door wider and invited them inside.

  Mark quickly made the introductions.

  “A pleasure meeting you, Rebecca,” Jerry said. “Please. Make yourselves at home.” He gestured towards the living room. “So Mark, old buddy, what’ve you been up to these days?”

  As Mark filled him in on the details about the halfway house, he and Rebecca sat down on a black leather couch that faced a large stone fireplace. Jerry took his place in an easy chair across from them, and the corgi, ever faithful, plopped down close at his feet.

  “What’s your dog’s name?” Rebecca asked, after they’d finished talking about Mark’s project.

  “Zippy. She’s a gem, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes! She’s beautiful.”

  “Rebecca is interested in buying a puppy for her little girl,” Mark explained. “I remember your saying you expected a new litter when we talked a few weeks ago. Are there any pups still available?”

  “I’m sorry, but all twelve were still-born.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame, a crying shame.”

  Rebecca swallowed back her disappointment.

  “Would you like me to put your name on a waiting list?” Jerry asked, turning his gaze on Rebecca. “Zippy won’t come into heat for another six months, of course, but I’ll be happy to keep you in mind.”

  “Yes, thank you. I might do that, although a lot will depend where I’ll be living in another six months from now.” She hesitated. “I . . . I’m renting the top portion of the Glasgow house from Mark right now, and as you just heard, things are in a state of flux there. In another half year, there’s no telling just where my daughter and I might be.” She smiled over at Mark and added, “Not every landlord is as generous as Mark is about allowing pets.”

  “True enough. They don’t come any better than Mark here.” Jerry flashed a grin at Mark, then looked back at Rebecca. “Before you leave, I’ll give you my business card anyway. Don’t hesitate to check back with me later if you’re still interested.”

  “I will.”

  During the drive back to town, Mark turned to Rebecca and said, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out. Maybe I should have called Jerry first after all.”

  “No need to apologize. Actually, what happened this afternoon may have saved me from an impulsive move,” she admitted.

  “Oh?”

  “I haven’t even told Wendy yet that you said it’s okay to get a dog. I decided to hold off, just in case something interfered, and now I’m all the more certain I made the right decision. At least for now.” She sighed. “Small wonder, though, she hasn’t asked me yet what your answer was.”

  “Maybe I can bring my dog over every once in a while, so Wendy can play with him.”

  “Oh, would you? That would be wonderful.”

  They fell silent for the next several miles until they’d once again turned onto the main highway that led into town.

  “Hungry?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, I’m famished.” She suddenly realized she was not only hungry, but incredibly tired as well. Although it was only late afternoon, she felt as if she’d worked a twelve-hour day.

  “There’s a cafe down by the bay that serves terrific clam chowder, the creamy kind with bacon and potatoes. What do you think?”

  “I know the place,” she said with an approving nod. “The Surf and Turf. It’s been around forever, and it’s excellent. And right now, a bowl of clam chowder would hit the spot!”

  Yes, why not? Why not indulge in this one “date” with Mark? After all, he’d been kind enough to try to help her with her ailing car, and nicer still to accept her apology so gracefully. What would it hurt just this one time?

  Later, they sat face-to-face in a booth next to a window overlooking the bay. The sun hung in the west, partially obscured behind a layer of gunmetal gray clouds. Seagulls perched on the wharf pilings and cocked their heads, peering back at them with black, beady eyes.

  “I wonder what they’re thinking when they look so inquisitive,” Rebecca said with a chuckle.

  “That big one we’ve named Gus,” a redheaded waitress said as she approached the booth, order pad in hand. “He’s been around here for years. Always the first in line for a hand-out, of course.”

  After all three shared a moment of laughter, the waitress looked at Rebecca. Her face lit up. “Hey, don’t I know you? Didn’t you go to high school here about ten years ago?”

  “I did!” Rebecca had to admit, the woman looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her.

  “I’m Jeanie Warner, and I sat directly behind you in Spanish.”

  “Now I remember! It’s great to see you again, Jeanie.”

  “And you’re Rebecca, of course, the small town girl who made good.”

  “Uh . . . I don’t know about that . . .” Rebecca’s voice trailed. How she disliked calling attention to herself, especially in regards to her marriage to August.

  “Oh, don’t be so modest!” Jeanie giggled. “Well, maybe your celebrity status is because of the man you married, but you’re still a VIP, no matter how you look at it. Those of us who stuck around here heard all about your glamorous life down south.”

  Rebecca felt her face grow warm. Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel Mark staring at her, his gaze questioning.

  “Who told you about me?” Rebecca asked. Maybe she was opening a can of worms now, but she had to satisfy her curiosity.

  “Your sister. I run into her at least a couple times a month in the grocery, and she always likes to stop what she’s doing and visit with me. Small town, you know.”

  Despite her embarrassment, Rebecca chuckled. “Yeah, leave it to Missey . . .”

  “Say, miss! When you’re finished there, can I speak with you for a moment?” The man in the next booth cut through their conversation.

  Thank goodness. Just in time b
efore Jeanie becomes too interested.

  “Be right with you, sir.”

  Mark must have sensed Rebecca’s uneasiness, because he quickly diverted the conversation. “So tell me about this morning’s tour?” he asked. “How did it go?”

  “I enjoyed it. It went well.” She felt herself relax a little. “The teens—about a couple dozen or so—were from a summer theater group. They were so excited, they even got me reciting my lines from the movie.” Yet fresh guilt eclipsed that warm recollection when she remembered her part in encouraging them to start the petition.

  His smile reached his eyes. “And I bet they loved every minute of it.”

  “Oh yeah, the entire two or three minutes it took to get through them,” she joked. “My little stand-in part hardly made me a full-fledged movie star.”

  He took a swig of coffee, still smiling at her over the rim of his mug. “You’re too modest, Rebecca. I bet when it comes to the theater, you’re a natural. I would’ve loved to have been there with the kids to see you. And I also bet you make the best tour guide for the Glasgow place this town has ever had.”

  She shrugged to hide her embarrassment mixed with confusion. Somehow, it didn’t make sense how he could be so concerned about the tours while, at the same time, he knew full well they would come to a swift halt in only a few more months. Maybe he was simply trying to flatter her—but to what end?

  “So how did the petitioning go today?” she asked, attempting to keep her expression even. It seemed only polite to ask about his afternoon, also.

  He told her all about it, adding, “I probably won’t really know, though, how people are reacting to the project until after the meeting. It could be rather tentative. Bottom line is, so many folks are afraid of change.” He checked his BlackBerry for any pertinent messages. Apparently there were none.

  It unexpectedly struck her that she might be one of those afraid of change.

  “I’m sure those who are opposed to the halfway house will manage to stir each other up,” he continued, “and generate their own gravity as a group.” His face went grim. “I’m going to have to convince them it’s a worthwhile cause, that I have all the safeguards in place.”