Return to Little Hills

by Janice Macdonald

  Peter tuned back in to see Edie tap her watch and shoot him a questioning look.

  “I could keep going all night,” she said. “But I realize you people probably have things to do, so I’ll wrap it up by saying that the one cardinal rule in journalism is that you need to get to the heart of the story. Dig beyond the hearsay, the secondhand tales, the gossip, rumor and speculation. Don’t settle for the official statements, the press conferences and guided tours. Find the truth. See things for yourself. It’s the only way you can stand by your words afterward. You saw it, you heard it, you are telling the truth as far as you know.”

  Peter walked down to the front of the room and smiled at Edie. The students, who had clearly been hanging on her words, broke into enthusiastic applause. Edie’s smile was radiant, her face flushed, as she acknowledged the applause.

  “I loved that,” she told Peter after the students had trickled out. “They were really captivated, I could see it in their faces.” Wordlessly, as though reliving the moment, she shook her head. “What a trip.”

  “The way you’re feeling right now is exactly what makes teaching worthwhile,” he said. “Unfortunately, those moments don’t happen as often as we’d like them to.”

  Edie, clearly still high on the experience, just smiled. “God, if that’s the feeling teaching can give you, maybe I should switch careers.”

  Peter raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should.”

  “Nah…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about reporting. I want to do it.”

  He smiled. “Can I entice you with a coffee and some gooey butter cake?”

  She smiled back at him. “Peter, Jack the Ripper could entice me with gooey butter cake. It’s after five, though. Don’t you have to go home to your daughters?”

  “Um…the girls adore gooey butter cake and I thought perhaps—”

  “Sure, bring them,” Edie said a shade too quickly. She regarded her feet for a moment. “I do have to drive my mother home though and—”

  “Pick up toilet paper at the IGA.”

  “Well, that’s a given.”

  “Let’s all have coffee, then,” he said. “Maude, too.”

  She looked amused. “Is that supposed to be an incentive?”

  “I find your mother quite charming.”

  “That’s because she’s not your mother.”

  “Anyway, I’d like to swap Ethiopia stories with you.”

  “You were in Ethiopia?”

  “Years ago. My wife and I were in the Peace Corps.”

  Edie narrowed her eyes at him for a moment as though assessing the truthfulness of what he’d just said, and then she laughed aloud. “Oh, what the hell? Let me see what Mom wants to do and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

  “Better still,” Peter said, “we’ll meet you both at the Olde Towne Bakery.”

  “COFFEE?” Maude, sitting in a wicker rocker, smiled down at the baby in her arms. “You got some yesterday, didn’t you?”

  “Mom.” Edie crouched down on the floor in front of Maude and peered into her mother’s face. “Look at me. Peter invited us to have coffee. And gooey butter cake. His daughters are going, too.”

  Maude’s forehead creased. One hand went to her ear. “So much noise in here, babies crying and all. I had to turn my hearing aid down. Now what?”

  “Coffee, Mom. Want to go have coffee?”

  “I had coffee. One of the little girls got me a cup. That one over there with the long black hair. Sixteen,” she said in a lowered voice. “And a mother already.”

  Edie took a breath before she tried again. Around the room, girls were shooting amused glances over in their direction. “Mom, look at me.”

  “You need some lipstick,” Maude said. “You look washed out.”

  “Coffee,” Edie said. “With Peter. Do you want to go?”

  “No.”

  Edie sat back on her heels. She’d been playing tug-of-war and her opponent had suddenly released the rope. “No?”

  “Tonight’s good on TV.”

  “Edie.” Beth had come over. “Go and have coffee. I’ll drive your mom home.”

  Edie stood. Beth looked amused, kindly and slightly harried, with an armful of tiny pastel sweaters. Beth, who had a crush on Peter. “Why don’t you join us, Beth. Peter just mentioned something about Ethiopia. He was there with the Peace Corps—Addis Ababa, probably—and I think he just wants to reminisce. I was there for a while too and… Join us. His daughters are going, too.” She felt uncomfortable and unable to stop babbling. “Gooey butter cake. The Olde Bakery does great gooey butter cake…”

  Smiling, Beth was shaking her head. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Edie?”

  “There’s coffee over there if you want some.” Maude nodded at the coffeemaker in the corner. “No more for me, though.”

  “Okay, Mom.” She patted Maude’s hand. “I’ll be right back.” A moment later she followed Beth to her office.

  “Have a seat.” In her tiny cubicle, Beth moved a stack of manila folders from a chair. “It’s kind of cramped in here. Peter apologized when he hired me, but the budget doesn’t extend to a whole lot more. Anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

  “Beth. Before you say anything, I just want you to know I have no…designs on Peter. Honestly. He’s obviously very attractive and seems like a good man, but—”

  “Stop.” Beth laughed and patted Edie’s hand. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Her smile faded and she hesitated. “I was truly embarrassed when we all went out last week and Viv went on about Peter.” She picked at a thread on her dress. “I admire Peter tremendously and…well…he is good-looking, but somehow Viv has taken all that and turned it into this romantic thing she thinks I have for him. Quite frankly, it’s getting very awkward. Whenever I have to talk to him about something, and I do on a daily basis, I can’t help thinking about the things Viv has said about…goodness, I can’t even repeat them.”

  Edie sat back in her seat, assimilating what Beth had told her. “So you’re not interested in Peter…romantically, I mean?” Her face felt hot suddenly, and she grinned. “Damn, why do I feel so awkward talking about this kind of stuff?”

  “I know, I stumble all over myself, too,” Beth said. “About Peter though, it’s like…well, you know if you’ve got this crush on a movie star or something?”

  Edie laughed. “It’s been a while since I had a crush on a movie star, although…I have to admit I saw The English Patient three times, just to gawk at Ralph Fiennes.”

  “Exactly. It’s not like you’re ever even going to meet him, but you can still appreciate him.”

  “But Beth, Peter is right here. You see him every day.”

  Beth nodded. “I know. But he’s just too… I don’t know, I guess I’m a comfy old-shoes kind of person and with Peter I’d never really relax and be myself. Does that sound weird?”

  “Well, not weird, but—”

  “Edie, I swear, if you ever breathe a word to Peter.”

  “I promise.” She thought for a minute. “But about Viv, though. You’re saying she conjured this all up herself? Why?”

  “I think Viv is unhappy, Edie. She’s always busy doing a million things, but I honestly think all that activity fills some void in her life.”

  “But she’s always talking about how happy she is. The boys and Ray. Decorating the new house…” She stopped, thinking about what she’d said. “A cover for how she really feels? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Beth nodded. “Look at that house, Edie. It’s gorgeous, but how can she afford it on Ray’s salary? And she spends like there’s no tomorrow. We went to the mall together last week because she wanted to buy makeup. She spent two hundred dollars on creams for her neck and eyes and she’s talking now about a face-lift. And she drinks way too much.” She sighed. “I’m sorry to lay all this on you, but I don’t know who else can help her. I don’t think your mother’s picked up on it…”

  Edie sh
ook her head. “I don’t think so, either. Is Ray aware, do you think? If they’re living beyond their means, he has to know that.”

  “Ray’s an idiot,” Beth said sharply. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually talk about people like that and I know he’s your brother-in-law, but he can be an insensitive clod.”

  “Wow.” Edie grinned despite herself. “I’d never imagine hearing something like that from you. I mean, I blurt out whatever is on my mind, but you seem…I don’t know…more restrained and—”

  “Tactful?” Beth said, laughing. “I guess I usually am, but Ray’s been treading on thin ice with me lately. Between the two of us, of course.”

  “Of course.” Edie glanced up at the wall clock. “I told Peter I’d meet him in ten minutes and it’s already twenty past. Listen, thank you, Beth. I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to handle this, but I’m glad you told me.”

  Beth stood. “Viv seems like a competent, take-charge sort of person,” she said, “but underneath it all, I think she’s got some real issues.” She walked Edie out of the office. “Don’t think about it until tomorrow. Go have coffee with Peter. And enjoy.”

  Edie looked at her.

  “I think he’s attracted to you,” Beth said, smiling. “I’m quite intuitive about that sort of thing.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I’LL HAVE TWO of the almond thingies, one of those chocolate squares and a gooey butter cake,” Peter told the assistant behind the counter at the Olde Towne Bakery. “Actually, stick in a napoleon…no, wait. What’s that?”

  “An éclair.”

  “I’ll have two of those and…is that marzipan, by any chance?”

  “Almond paste. Same thing, I think.”

  “Is it?” Peter wasn’t sure himself. “Well, stick one of those in, too. No, no.” She’d started to put them in a box. “We’ll eat them here.”

  “Here?” The assistant’s eyes widened. “You’re going to eat all of these here?”

  “Well, we’re going to give it a try,” Peter said. As he carried the tray across the room to the table where Edie sat, he felt almost giddy. This was a breakthrough. Although she’d needed some convincing to have coffee, she had come. He would take things very slowly, he decided. Perhaps not even a good-night kiss, although the prospect of kissing her in the next hour or so was one he parted with reluctantly. As he set the tray down, she looked at him, mouth agape.

  “Are we expecting company?”

  “There’s more,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

  “Peter,” she said when he’d sat down again. “You’re not seriously planning to eat all of this tonight?”

  “I’m not,” he said. “We are.” He couldn’t quite read the look she gave him and on the chance that it might be disapproval, he said, “I intend to take some back to the girls. What they don’t eat, I’ll take in to school tomorrow.”

  She looked at him for a moment. “Okay, fess up. What’s the real reason you didn’t bring your daughters?”

  “It’s exactly what I told you. My sister had rented a video they’ve all been clamoring to see—well, all except for Delphina, who much prefers books. And Sophia had promised them they could make their own ice cream sundaes. This was before I got home. So I arrived and made an alternative proposal and, even though it included gooey butter cake, I couldn’t sway them.”

  Edie narrowed her eyes. “They think I’m a witch.”

  “I don’t think you’re a witch. And the girls hardly know you.”

  “Neither do you.”

  He smiled. “But I’m learning a little more every day.”

  She smiled back at him, a moment passed and then she glanced down at the cakes. “I stopped eating this sort of thing when I was about fourteen,” she said, cutting into a napoleon.

  “Why?”

  She laughed. “Why? Only a guy would ask a question like that. A guy who probably doesn’t have a fat cell in his body and never had zits.”

  “Zits? Pimples, you mean? I can assure you I had plenty of them. Horrible looking lad, I was. My mother used to cover my head with a bag when she had to take me out in public.”

  “Liar.”

  “Have some of the marzipan thing.” He cut into one of the cakes with the back of his fork. “And tell me whether you prefer it to the napoleon. It’s actually a character test.”

  She gave him a long look. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood to have my character tested.”

  “It’s painless.” He cut into both cakes and leaned across the table to put a piece in her mouth. “This one?” He watched as she ate it. “Or—” he fed her another piece “—this one?”

  “The first one,” she said.

  “Marzipan,” he said. “My favorite, too, after gooey butter cake, which is in a class by itself.”

  “So what’s the character test?”

  “You like what I like, which means you’re discerning, exceptionally intelligent, and kind to animals and small children.”

  “All that from a piece of cake, huh?”

  “Astounding, isn’t it?”

  “I’m astounded,” she said.

  “So am I.”

  “The last part of it is untrue, though,” she said. “The small children bit.”

  Peter said nothing. She was paying rapt attention to her coffee now, gazing into it as though it had turned from coffee to a novel from which she couldn’t remove her nose. He demolished the marzipan cake and stuck his fork into the gooey butter cake.

  “It’s not that I’m unkind,” she amended. “Just not particularly maternal.”

  “Some women aren’t,” he said, thinking about Sophia’s remark. He refrained from taking issue, which he very much wanted to do, and waited to see what else she might say.

  “The thing is,” she said, still addressing her coffee, “children are a tremendous responsibility. Once you have them, they’re a lifetime commitment.” She looked up at him now. “I was late getting here because Beth wanted to talk to me about my sister. Viv’s having…personal problems. I had no idea and I have even less idea about what I can do to help.”

  “You’re not close, then?”

  “I suppose not, because I didn’t even recognize there was a problem.” She mashed a crumb with her finger. “I want to help. She’s my sister. At the same time, though, I feel as though I’m assuming another layer of responsibility. It’s the same thing with my mother. I’m not entirely sure that giving up her house is what she really wants and it’s leaving me with this niggling doubt that I can’t ignore. And part of me just wants the freedom to walk away from it all…”

  “And you could.”

  “I could, I know. In fact, it hurt my feelings when my mom said she didn’t know why I’d come back. I’m sure she wasn’t trying to hurt me. ‘No one expects anything of you,’ she said. I couldn’t get the words out of my head. It just made me feel so damn lonely.”

  “It’s hard to have things both ways, Edie. Needing people and caring about them, and vice versa, very much limits one’s freedom to just walk away from it all.”

  “I know. Intellectually, I know. Emotionally, I’m stamping my foot because I want it both ways. So.” Chin cupped in her hand, she regarded him. “I bet you never really had zits.”

  “Neither did you, I’m sure.”

  “I’ve always been perfect,” she said.

  “You have exquisite eyes,” he said.

  “Exquisite. Wow.”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “Because you’re staring at me.” She broke off another piece of cake. “And ‘exquisite’ kind of threw me. It’s not a word I hear much, at least not applied to myself.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “It wasn’t a complaint. I was just explaining…”

  They were, he realized, leaning closer toward one another than they’d been when they first sat down. He leaned back in the booth, drank some coffee, then set his cup down. “Tell me how accurate this is,” he said after a wh
ile. He told her about his craggy safari-suited war-correspondent fantasy. “Is that what it’s like—hotel bars and whiskey and cigar smoke?”

  She laughed. “Not exactly.”

  “That first day when you spoke at school, I remember you saying that your friends were mostly other journalists.”

  “They are.”

  He picked at a piece of cake, seeing again the smoky bar and the guy with his arm around Edie’s shoulders. He returned the uneaten cakes to the box and stood. “This boyfriend of yours?” he said as he followed Edie outside. “Another journalist?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “I never was.”

  Somehow the disclosure didn’t surprise him. He resisted the temptation to question her further.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he said when they were back outside on the dark street. “May I walk with you to your mother’s?”

  Edie laughed. And then she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You are so sweetly formal, Peter. It’s very endearing. I feel as though I should fan myself and have the vapors.”

  “I can assure you,” he said as he took her elbow and they walked up Monroe, “that beneath this civilized exterior, I’m a raging uncouth beast, full of uncontrollable lust and completely insatiable.”

  “Is that supposed to unnerve me, or entice me?”

  “I wouldn’t mind if it did both, actually. You’d be enticed but so unnerved, you’d succumb to the vapors and then I’d have to revive you.”

  “Ah,” she said.

  “Would you like to go away with me for the weekend?” he asked as they reached Maude’s house.

  She smiled. “I think not, but if you’d like you can come in for a while.”