Allen walked her through the rest of the lab, introducing her to various workers, describing each of their tasks.
“I never realized it took so many people to run a clinic.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
She looked at her watch again.
“We have one more stop, and then I’ll get you home before my car turns into a pumpkin. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They drove a couple of blocks and came to stop in front of a diner.
“I’m not hungry, Allen.”
“Good, because we’re not here for the food.”
He held open her door and extended his hand again as she stepped out of the car.
A bell rang as the door opened. Brenda looked around. The diner was busy but not crowded. An older woman dressed in a crisp aqua-colored uniform greeted them. “Hi, Dr. Petoro,” she said, looking somewhat timid.
He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “Hi, Greta. How’s the new job working out?”
Her face lighted up. “It’s great, and Henry’s real kind to me.”
“Good. Is he around?”
As if on cue, an older balding man walked out of a door, closing it firmly behind him. He took out a key ring and locked the deadbolt. Brenda read the word SUPPLIES on it and wondered why he felt compelled to secure it. Then she considered some of the employees and customers and thought she knew the answer.
“Hey, Henry,” Allen called.
The man turned, looked at Brenda and shook his head at Allen. “No!” he said. “I haven’t even broken in Greta yet.”
He laughed, pulled Brenda close to him and said, “Naw—not her.”
“Whew,” Henry said and laughed. “Not that she wouldn’t look great in the uniform.”
“She’s just a friend. I’m showing her my world.”
Henry laughed. “Are you trying to scare her away?” Henry turned his head to look at Brenda. “Honey, if you’re going to be with this man, you’re going to have to get used to these quirky dates.”
Brenda shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
Henry looked at Allen, saw something in his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah.”
A young boy entered the diner, took one look at Allen, and his face lit up. “Hey, Dr. P.”
“Hey, Reuben,” Allen said. “How’s school?”
“I’m staying on the honor roll.”
“Good job.” He pulled out his wallet and passed him a five-dollar bill.
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Dr. P!”
Allen said to Brenda, “I give him five dollars every time he makes the honor roll. He’s saving up for a Christmas present for his mom. His wages are all committed, so he appreciates the extra cash.”
“He’d better stay on that honor roll,” Henry said, “or he’s out on his ass.” He sounded serious, and Brenda wasn’t sure how to react.
They all laughed, and Brenda realized she had missed the meaning of an inside joke.
“You here for lunch?” Henry asked.
“Just a tour,” Allen said. “We already ate.”
“Tawny just took a cherry pie out of the oven.”
Allen clutched his stomach. “Aw, Henry—why do you tempt me so?”
Henry laughed, holding his arms out in front, palms turned up. He shrugged. “It’s Tawny’s cherry pie,” he repeated.
Allen dashed to a booth, clutching Brenda’s hand and pulling her with him. He fell into the booth. Brenda, propelled by the sudden dash, flew in behind him, landing nearly on top of him. His arms went around her as their laughter spilled over.
When they were finally able to control their laughter, she sat up. She felt the nearness of him and liked it. He removed his arm from her shoulders but rested it on the seat behind her. She didn’t attempt to move away.
Henry placed two plates of cherry pie topped with vanilla ice cream down in front of them. Allen dug in while Brenda stared in amazement. When he realized she was staring, he put down his fork and sat back. “Sorry.”
She smiled and shook her head. “It’s nice to see a man appreciate a woman’s cooking so much.”
A large woman with massive arms walked from the kitchen. She had tattoos covering both arms, wore a long, brown braid, littered with salt and pepper gray down her back. “Well, look who the wind blew in.”
Allen held open his arms. “Tawny,” he said. “The pie’s delicious, as usual.”
“Where you been, Son?” She reached across Brenda, crushing her against the back of the booth and gave him a big hug.
“Busy,” he said, the sound muffled by her large breasts.
She stood back, looked at Brenda, and cocked a teasing smile at her. “Busy, huh? This your new lady?”
He shook his head. “This is Brenda, and she’s just a friend.”
She looked her over as if trying to decide if she approved. “She looking for work?”
“She’s Sheriff Waldrip’s wife.”
“Oooh-wee! What’s wrong with you? You’d best run all the way back to your mama, ’cause you’re playing with dynooomite!”
Allen tipped his head to the side, raised his eyebrows at her. “She’s just a friend.”
“A very pretty friend of the opposite sex,” she said.
“Butt out, Tawny,” Henry yelled from the back of the diner.
“I’m just tryin’ to save this boy’s life,” she shouted back.
“I’m a big kid, Tawny.”
“Well, I’ll tell Jim Ivers to give your family a good discount on your funeral.” She cackled and walked away.
When Brenda looked at Allen, he was smiling. Then he started laughing.
“I don’t think it’s that’s funny,” she said.
“Then why are you smiling?”
“I don’t know. Nerves I guess.” Then she asked, “How do you know these people so well?”
“I met Henry a few years back. That woman I introduced you to at the clinic, Elaine, was living on the streets a few years ago. She was down on her luck, they would say. She stole a loaf of bread from me. I chased, and when I caught up with her, she was hovering over three kids. They all were dirty and hungry. I brought the lot of them here. It just happened that Henry had a help-wanted sign out in the front window and a spare room in the back.” He nodded toward the boy who was sweeping the floors. “Reuben is Elaine’s son.”
Brenda nodded her head. “I see. So Reuben still works here, but Elaine works at the clinic. How did that happen?”
“Elaine and her family are just the first of many Henry has helped. After Henry had given Elaine the job, I started coming around to check up on them. We both knew Henry couldn’t possibly pay Elaine enough to support her three kids. That’s when I met Angela Martin. I knew we had a social services rotation at the hospital, so I contacted them. Angela was on call that week and answered my page. We got together and came up with a game plan. She got in touch with the local vocational training school, who agreed to help. There’s money out there in grants to help fund training, and whatever that didn’t cover, the school agreed to arrange to either delay payments, or waive tuition altogether. Angela contacted Elaine, convinced her to enroll in night school, and now she’s a certified medical assistant.”
“Wow! What a great success story.”
He nodded. “Henry agreed to keep Reuben on. He’s saving half his money for a car, and putting the rest away for college. Minus whatever expenses he has.”
She smiled appreciatively. “I’m really impressed. I’ve never known a doctor who cared so much. I thought that ended when you walked out of the exam room.”
He gave her a half-hearted chuckle. “For many that’s true, but plenty of us care beyond what goes into our pockets. Every physician at the clinic is a volunteer.”
They fell silent. She played with her coffee cup, refusing a refill when Reuben offered more. Finally, she said, “What do you expect from me, Allen? Am I one of your charity cases that you expect to don a waitress uniform and serve pie and coffee?
”
He shook his head, his face a contorted mass of emotion. “This isn’t what you’re about, Brenda.” He reached out, covering her hand with his own. When she looked down, he touched her chin with his finger, lifting her head so their eyes would meet. “I care about you, Brenda. Probably more than I should.”
She turned her head away, trying to ignore the sound of her own heart wildly beating in her ears. He pulled her face back toward him. She tried to turn away again, but he held her chin tight.
“I’m married,” she whispered.
“He abuses you. He doesn’t love you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He leaned closer, his lips coming to within a fraction of an inch of hers. She closed her eyes, expecting the touch of his flesh. “You deserve so much more,” she heard instead.
She opened her eyes. He was still just as close. So close, she could smell the cherry pie on his breath. “Lacy…”
“Is fine,” he objected.
“He tried to get to her.”
“He’s getting to her at home, too.”
Having nothing to reply, she fell silent. Pulling her hands away from his, she sat back. “I need to go now.”
He nodded and stood to leave. “You will think about it?”
“Yes.”
They drove in silence.
When he pulled up to the trailer, her heart began to beat. “He’s not home yet.”
“Let me come in and stay with you.”
She shook her head. “No. There’s no telling what he might do if he finds you here.”
“You’ll call me if you need me?”
“Of course.”
She began to climb out of the car. He reached out and took hold of her arm, letting his hand slip down to clasp hers. She looked back at him. “It’s not too late,” he said.
“I’ll call you.”
He leaned across the seat and kissed her on the cheek. “Be careful.”
She nodded, stood, and closed the door.
She felt a moment’s hesitation as she watched his car drive out of sight. She turned and looked at the trailer. A sense of dread permeated her body. What am I doing here?
When they discharged her from the hospital, Lacy had managed to sneak into the house and get a few items of clothing for her, but the bulk of her belongings remained.
Brenda stared at the trailer for several moments. “I could simply pack my things and leave. I only need my clothes,” she said aloud.
Sighing, she began the walk to the trailer. With each step her heart beat more rapidly, her palms sweated, her neck became moist. She put her key into the lock and turned it. The tumblers seemed to reverberate in her head. The door squeaked as she opened it. Odd she had never noticed that before. She’d have to remember to lubricate it.
The house seemed so quiet without all the daily activity. She could almost hear an echo. She walked into the kitchen, her kitchen. The dishes still sat in the dish drainer where she had left them to dry. Several cereal bowls and empty glasses littered the sink. That figured; surely she hadn’t expected Peter to wash up after himself. The coffee pot sat half full, a furry growth covering the surface. Apparently, Peter hadn’t made any coffee, nor had he bothered to clean the pot since she had left.
She picked up the pot, dumped the contents down the drain, emptied the mold-encrusted filter basket into the trash bin, and ran a sink full of hot soapy water. She put all the cereal bowls, spoons, and glasses into the sink. She added soap to the coffee carafe and filled it with water, setting it aside to soak.
When she’d finished washing all the dishes, she took a can of scouring powder from under the sink and sprinkled it liberally over the entire countertop. As she scrubbed, her mind wandered back to the diner. It had felt so good to sit down and have someone serve her for a change. She thought about Allen’s lips so close to hers. She had wanted him to kiss her, but he hadn’t. She wondered why. Was it because she was married? Indeed, it should matter to her. She had taken a vow to be faithful. But then again, so had Peter, just as he’d also agreed to love, honor, and cherish her? Would it still be wrong to lie with another man if her husband had long ago broken his vows?
She finished the dishes, got out the lemon dusting spray and wiped away days of dust and grime. Then she went to the hall closet and took out the vacuum cleaner. She vacuumed the living room, the den, and the hallway, coming to a stop in front of Lacy’s door. Turning off the vacuum, she pushed open the door and stood in the doorway. What she saw made her heart sink. It was as if a stranger had occupied it. Many of Lacy’s things were gone. She assumed she had snuck in at various times and taken them.
Brenda walked to the center of the room. She pirouetted, closing her eyes as she attempted to get a feel for her daughter. It did no good. Lacy’s spirit had left this place, no doubt the better for Lacy.
Allen’s words in the diner came back to her. He’s getting her at home, too.
She wondered what Lacy was doing right now. She glanced at her watch, three o’clock. Lacy would just now be getting out of school. Would she worry when she got back to Angela’s and found her mother gone? No doubt she would.
She noticed a hole in the wall next to the door. Stepping closer, she bent to examine it. She balled her hand into a fist and sized it up, putting her fist all the way through. Just the right size for Peter’s fist, she mused. With both her and Lacy gone, he had taken his frustrations out on the wall.
She left Lacy’s room, deciding not to vacuum it. Somehow it seemed wrong, as if by doing so she might erase all traces of Lacy.
She pushed the vacuum down to her and Peter’s room. Walking in the door made her blood run cold. The bed was unmade so she made it. Peter’s bathrobe was on the floor. She picked it up and hung it on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. The disarray she found there shocked her. Peter had haphazardly thrown clothes at the laundry hamper and they lay draped over and around it. None of them had made it inside. She threw them all inside and dragged the laundry hamper into the bedroom. She would take it to the laundry room when she finished cleaning the bathroom.
As she was turning back toward the bathroom, she noticed a bright red spot on the carpet. Stepping close, she bent and examined it. It was blood. She looked up and saw several more spots, some large and some small. Where did all this blood come from?
She touched a spot. It was dried. She was wondering how old it was when a sudden vision hit her. The last time she had been in the trailer when Peter had nearly beaten her to within an inch of her life, he had thrown her against the wall, the dresser, and the bedside table. She couldn’t remember how many times he had slammed her head against something. She had been dazed that day. In fact, she had barely been able to call for help. Had she actually bled this much? She shuddered, then she said aloud, “Get a grip, girl. If he keeps this up, you’ll be dead before you reach the prime of your life.”
She went to pick up the laundry hamper, but suddenly was seized by a rage so severe she couldn’t control herself. In one clean swipe, she pushed all of Peter’s things off his dresser. Then she opened the drawers and began grabbing out the items, piles at a time, and throwing them all over the bed. She tore his uniforms from their hangers, throwing them in heaps on the closet floor, stomping on them, grinding them into the worn carpet. His treasure box came next—all the little trinkets he had spent his life collecting went cascading about the room, showers and showers of mementos.
She screamed with each exertion, mumbling and cursing his name. All the years of pent-up anger came flowing out in a verbal torrent. When she was done, she collapsed on the floor and sobbed, her chest heaving, her eyes heavenward, watching the ceiling fan spin around…just like her life.
When she finished crying, she rolled on her side, catching sight of the bloodstains through her swollen eyes. Slowly she got to her knees. She looked around the room, taking it in as if for the first time. Most of the items in the room belonged to Peter. She never had any money to buy things. Pet
er kept her on a strict budget. She was allowed the barest of essentials for meals, just enough to pay the utilities, a measly amount for clothing, bargain rack items only, and a weekly gasoline allowance. She functioned on an allowance—just like a child. She laughed when she realized her own daughter had more money than she did.
Rising to her feet, she dragged the laundry hamper toward the center of the room. She dumped it out, rummaged through it, taking out her clothes, stuffing Peter’s back inside. Next, she went to the closet and began taking out her clothes. She pushed Peter’s clothes from the bed to the floor, replaced them with hers. She went to the garage, found a large box, carried it back to the room, and began stuffing all her clothes inside. When she had emptied the closet, she started on the drawers. Soon she had all her things stowed inside. She closed it, taped it up, and, pushing aside the pain from her injured ribs, struggled with it to the driveway and into the back seat of her car.
She went back into Lacy’s room and looked around, wondering if there was anything Lacy would want. In the corner, she spied Lacy’s old Mrs. Beasley doll. She had dragged the thing around until it resembled a bundle of rags. She picked it up by the arm, hugging it to her chest. It appeared Lacy had gotten the important stuff.
She walked to the front door, took a last look around, and smiled. She stepped onto the front porch, breathed in the air, and broke out laughing. She ran to the car, slipping several times on the gravel. Now that she had made the decision, she couldn’t wait to get out of there. She raced down the driveway, turned on the radio, and sang joyously, as she drove down the road. She was drunk on freedom, and she didn’t care who stared at her.
She honked, waved, and laughed with gusto. One man honked and waved back, rewarding her with a wolf-whistle. Yesterday, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance, for all her usual dourness, but today she was radiant and beautiful.
Chapter Seventeen
The school bell rang, and hordes of children poured from doors that flung open with exuberance. Shouts and screams erupted from within. Laughter bubbled up and spilled over into the parking lot. Lacy watched the various groups hop into cars, some driven by concerned parents, who looked frustrated as they maneuvered their cars between pedestrians. Fellow students drove their friends but not Lacy—Lacy had no friends.
Lacy's End Page 18
