Blame the Car Ride Read online

  Chapter 3

  S unday morning, Edgy and I trailed an usher down the slanted aisle of the auditorium-style sanctuary, leading us closer to the dais of the hilltop church. The lack of stained glass or frosted windows surprised me, as did the skylights running along the pitch of the vaulted ceiling. The white walls, trimmed with natural maple, provided a clean and simple atmosphere for worship.

  The usher pointed out two seats in the fifth row. According to what I had read on the church’s website, the sanctuary held over nine hundred people, and the pews were darn near full. Edgy nudged me forward into the row.

  Parishioners moved their knees aside so we could squeeze past. Finally, we settled onto the padded bench, crowded like goslings nestled near their mother’s breast—one wiggle and the nearest parishioner would certainly give us a look of this is my space.

  “I wanted to sit in the back,” I whispered.

  “Me, too.” She fluffed her hair to make sure the bandage above her ear stayed covered. “I told you we’d be late if you didn’t quit your bloody hemming and hawing about going.” Edgy also kept her tone low under the swell of violins, flutes, and trombones in the orchestra as the choir sang an upbeat rendition of “Blessed Assurance.” Drums kept them all in sync as the voices rose and fell, only to surge again.

  I leaned closer to her and raised my voice. “And I told you we shouldn’t go. It’s only two days since you were in the ER getting stitches.” It was silly to egg Edgy on. A sense of doom closed as I worried a comeback from her might be overheard by the patient faithful waiting for their pastor.

  The choir director invited the congregation to stand. We sang along with the uplifting voices until the music stopped. The pastor stepped to the lectern for prayer. After his amen, he said, “Shake hands with your neighbors.”

  The woman in the pew in front of me turned around and extended her hand. Delicate and with disquieting gray eyes, she seemed burdened. Despite her cares, she smiled with a genuine greeting. “I’m Rosella,” she said. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  We joined hands. “I’m Corinne. My friend and I are visiting. Heard about the remodeling your church has done and wanted to see it.” The excuse slid easily from my lips. I should have simply said I was visiting.

  The gentleman on the other side of Rosella extended his hand toward me, but when he noticed Edgy, his cheeks flushed and his jaw hardened. He quickly turned his back on us.

  Rosella sat down beside him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered to the man, loud enough for us to hear.

  I was wondering the same, and I turned to Edgy to ask if she knew.

  Edgy’s cheeks had reddened, and her eyes were flinty, body tense, and chin stiff.

  I elbowed her. “What’s the matter?”

  She hissed through clenched teeth, “Later.”

  During the next energetic and joyful-to-the-Lord hymn, I spoke softly near her ear. “You’re upset, and I want to know why.”

  Edgy leaned in closer. “That’s Lester. You know, he lives across the alley from me. He’s married to the sweetest gal. What the hell is he doing in church with a different woman?”

  “Maybe she’s his sister?” I whispered back.

  Edgy’s voice raised a notch. “Are you kidding? Sisters don’t snuggle against their brothers like that.”

  “Shh. Are you sure?”

  “Why do you always doubt me?” She breathed slowly and steadily, struggling for composure.

  I drew my brows together, studying Edgy’s irked profile. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m a crab and still you put up with me.”

  By now others nearby had leaned closer in an obvious attempt to hear what we were saying.

  Edgy glanced one way and then another. Her hands relaxed in her lap. She looked pretty with her brunette hair brushed over to cover the shaved and stitched spot. She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “You’re a crab because you’re going through some kind of a crisis, but I don’t understand why you’re upset over it. There’s no need to be the perfect lady anymore. No one cares if you live a little while you can.”

  Next to me, a heavyset matron leaned into my shoulder with her squishy one. “I don’t,” she said. Her floral scent overpowered, and I covered my mouth to stifle a sneeze. What I really wanted to do was laugh, but I didn’t dare in this holy place, a place where God is worshipped and sins washed away. I held my breath as a thought popped into my mind—where people also eavesdrop and gossip. The three of us exchanged knowing looks and settled down to absorb an inspiring sermon about living through grace.

  As we filed out, Edgy repeatedly checked over her shoulder to track the movements of Lester.

  So did I.

  Lester shot us an evil scowl, then paused while his lady friend greeted an elderly woman still sitting in a pew.

  “Leave it be,” I said. “He looks weird. Maybe dangerous.”

  “I won’t tell his wife,” Edgy said. “But, bloody hell, how can he be so blatantly unfaithful that he flaunts it in a church?” Her words fairly sizzled.

  “You just can’t know for sure,” I said, touching her arm in what I hoped was a reassuring way.

  She jerked away from my hand but stood beside me as we waited in the foyer for the multitude to pass through the doors. They moved forward at a snail’s pace while men shook hands and women hugged. Kids wove in and out of the crowd. The noise and confusion were pleasant, comforting to a degree, and I relaxed. It was okay to be here. I grinned and greeted people I’d probably never see again.

  A man stepped in front of Edgy. “Are you doing okay?” he asked her.

  A kid bumped me from the left. I hadn’t seen him coming because I was momentarily stunned that Dean, the rancher from the bar, was standing there grinning like he had just found two old friends.

  Words flew out of my mouth, “What are you doing here?”

  He sized me up and shook his head. “You don’t want to talk to people in a church either?”

  He was teasing, but the coincidence of seeing him again seemed a bit odd. How could that happen? I found my tongue. “I talk to people just fine, but it’s odd to see you at a roadhouse and two days later at church.”

  The creases around his distracting eyes deepened, then his attention turned back to Edgy. “I saw you come in and just wanted to know if you’re okay. You got hit pretty hard.”

  Before Edgy could answer, Rosella from the pew in front of us crowded past, followed by Lester. He pushed hard against Edgy, causing her to sidestep.

  Dean caught her arm. “Who’s that guy?”

  “Neighbor,” Edgy said. “Apparently a no-good . . .”

  Thank heavens, she stopped before saying something improper in a church.

  Dean blocked the moving crowd and guided Edgy toward the door. He looked back over his shoulder at me. “You coming?”

  I tagged along until we flowed out onto the wide sidewalk in front of the church. Dean topped his head with his hat and walked us to the RAV4 all the way at the west end of the parking lot. “Good to see you ladies again.”

  He winked at me when he turned away, surprising the heck out of me. My cheeks grew warm. I thought I heard him chuckle as he strolled away with his easy, rhythmic gait across the hot blacktop to a white king cab Ford truck.

  I expected him to light up a Marlboro.

  As he drove past, I noticed Colorado license plates on the truck.

  Who is that guy?

  Chapter 4

  I arrived home from church disappointed in the unbelievable mess that visiting the Blue Moon and the church had managed to turn into. Because of me, Edgy had been struck by a thrown pool ball and then was caught up in a battle of dirty looks with her neighbor at a church. Who gets into a fight in the Lord’s house? A better question was, how could a married man go to worship with his lover? Or was she his lover? Despite what Edgy suspected, we didn’t know. Thankfully, my need for adventure had vanished in the chaos and was replaced with a desire to stay home in my cozy, fami
liar surroundings.

  To combat my turmoil, I trooped outside to spray a soapy mixture on my rose bushes. Driving aphids away took time and concentration. The potting shed lived at the far back of the yard, blending right in with a McIntosh apple tree and an Asian crab apple. Annabelle hydrangeas covered the shady side, and yellow-blossomed potentilla absorbed the heat on the south side. A snarl of Virginia creeper crawled along the eaves and hid a good part of the old clapboard siding.

  The lawn needed watering, and the flower beds looked droopy. I turned on a sprinkler that wouldn’t reach the rose bed and entered the dank, agreeable interior of the old shed. It had been built as a carriage house for a horse and a buggy, then became a garage for a Model T. After shoring up the rotting floor planks with fresh studs below and plywood on top, I now used it to store garden equipment. Old and new joined together to make a shed where the past, the present, and the future intertwined. The past was in the ancient wood, the time ahead in the bags of lawn seed and plastic trays for seedlings. A three-gallon red gas can sat in a corner next to leftover timbers from the carriage house’s haymow.

  My thoughts pulled out of the comfort of this hiding place to the unrest of my guilty conscience while I poured insecticidal soap into the sprayer, and I gave way to remorse over the scene at the church for a few seconds. “Stop it,” I told myself. I donned a wide-brimmed garden hat, then fingered into elbow-length leather gloves.

  Insect larvae were curling the leaves at the back of the full Bonica rose bush. I pointed the sprayer’s nozzle underneath the bush and lost myself in worried promises to be a better person.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  I jerked upright.

  My daughter plopped two suitcases by the back steps and ambled across the lawn, skirting the sprinkler. “You need some help?” Fatigue showed in Marley’s hazel eyes.

  “Do you?” I couldn’t suppress a slight note of regret over not seeing her for so long.

  “Mom, I’m sorry.”

  “Two years is a long time.”

  “I meant to come. Just couldn’t.”

  “Why now?”

  “I finally left him.”

  I placed the sprayer on the ground and held open my arms. She walked into them and we rocked each other, neither wanting to stop. I had missed the feel of this girl of mine. Phone calls were not the same. I took my time before holding her at arm’s length. “I see gray streaks at your temples.”

  “Duh, I am forty-three.”

  “When did that happen? How’s my granddaughter?”

  “Her ship’s stationed at Pearl Harbor. She made midshipman.” Marley’s parental pride glowed in a wide smile and satisfied eyes. I returned the look. We were proud of our feisty girl for serving her country and seeing the world at the same time.

  “Have you been okay, Mom?”

  “I’m perking along.” I lied to keep my dissatisfaction from my daughter. Sharing it with Edgy had caused enough trouble. “Let’s get your stuff inside.”

  “Finish your spraying. I’ll put my things away. Where do you want me?”

  “Your room, of course.”

  Marley blinked back tears.

  As she crossed the lawn, I couldn’t detect any apparent damage. She looked good. She still carried the same slenderness she’d always had and still handled herself with ease. I wouldn’t ask what had happened. She’d tell me in her own time, but I wasn’t surprised she’d left her husband—like I should have when I was her age but hadn’t.

  What was I thinking? If I had left Mel, I wouldn’t have enjoyed the quiet, peaceful years before he departed in the most final way. Death do us part, and it did.

  I continued to spray, giving Marley time to herself. I moved from bush to bush, saving the roses from the incessant nibbling of tiny bugs. Did I feel guilty for applying the soap in hopes they would move to the neighbors’ bushes instead of ending their existence. I have to confess I didn’t. I’d seen enough death in my extended family and then in my own. Burying a baby and a husband was a pain that never ended. It never really disappeared. Maybe that was also one of the reasons I had become restless recently and wanted something more.

  Sweat trickled from my hairline by the time I finally sprayed the last bush. A moving shadow crossed the blooms. I quickly straightened.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Edgy picked up the container holding the spray. “Why are you working so hard? Wasn’t the church thing enough? You look ready to wilt. Come on, buy me a drink.”

  I didn’t let go of the applicator. We were attached by a long narrow hose. “Marley just came home.”

  Edgy caught her breath. “I can’t believe my little Buttercup is here. She’s okay?”

  “Yes, finally. Told me she’d left her husband.”

  “About time. That weasley shit doesn’t deserve a nice gal like Marley. I’ve known she’s better people than most since she crawled on my lap and stuck her grimy finger in my mouth to see if I had lost a tooth like she had. She was a spunky little brat.”

  “She loves you.”

  “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t dug into that yet. She told me to finish the roses. I think she needed to be alone while she unpacked what little she brought. Hard to return to your old room in your forties.”

  “She’s better off.”

  “I agree, but she’ll be restless.”

  Edgy chuckled. “She can help us find you a nice guy. It’ll be fun to let the codgers at the Golden Agers eyeball her.”

  I dropped the nozzle and it fell by Edgy’s feet. “Are you crazy?” I said hushed and urgent. “She’s not to hear one word about my foolishness. The whole idea is kaput. Done. Finished. I’m going to just enjoy my daughter for as long as she’ll stay.”

  Edgy pursed her full lips. Her emerald eyes teased. “Whatever you say, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t the end. How long will Marley be here?”

  I wiped the back of my hand across my damp forehead. “I don’t know. Forever, I hope.”

  “You really need to go inside and have a drink to cool down.”

  I reached out and gently turned Edgy’s head enough to see her wound. Her combover was still hiding the stitches. A bruise showed near her ear. I feathered a little of her hair over it. “You can join me if you keep those stitches and bruises undercover.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her about your involvement in a bar fight, but before we go in, I need to see your dahlias. Mine aren’t looking so good. Maybe the heat is getting to them.” She made it around to the southeast corner of the house to my dahlia bed before I could stash the sprayer in the garden shed.

  When I caught up, she was bent over the tallest Café au Lait plant, touching each bud as she counted. “This is loaded,” she said. “You might get a blue-ribbon blossom. Yours look much better than mine.”

  “Are you watering them enough?”

  “Been drowning them. But enough of the flower talk, I’m heading in to see Marley.” She took off lickety-split but stopped at the door until I caught up. “I know you need time with your girl, but I’m still keeping my eyes open for just the right sexy dude for your bed.”

  “I don’t want a dude.” I almost tripped on the first step, caught my balance and stepped back, trying to rein in my temper. “Why is it so hard to understand? I just wanted a nice easygoing guy to spend time with.”

  She flashed me her Edgy look, wrinkled nose, pinched lips, and a tease in her wide eyes, then she darted inside.

  Where did she get such energy? And her moods shifted so fast.

  I barged in behind her, ready to quash anything she might utter to Marley about me. No mother wants her daughter to know how loneliness can screw up a widowed mom.

  Edgy simply went to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of beer, popped the lid, and sat down at the table. Of course, I’d do the same at her house, and I shouldn’t have worried about what she’d say to Marley. I dug a bar of coarse soap from under the sink and scrubbed my hands clean. How could t
hey get dirty spraying soap? I spoke to Edgy over my shoulder, “Are you going to tell Marley you’re here?”

  “She can hear us and will be down when she’s ready.” Edgy shifted in her chair and turned her ear toward the stairs.

  “What? Are you afraid you’ll say the wrong thing?” I laughed at her pained expression and crossed below the archway to the dining room. I leaned on the carved newel post of the oak staircase. “Marley,” I called. “Edgy’s here to say hi.”

  A bedroom door closed upstairs. Almost a slam. Edgy and I turned our lips down at each other. I saw a question in her eyes. I blinked a couple of times and shrugged.

  Marley ran down the steps. Freshly dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a ribbed tank top, she marched into the room with wide, accusatory eyes. “Now that you’re both here, what in the world is the matter with you two? Getting into a bar fight at your ages!” Her gray-streaked ponytail moved as she looked from me to Edgy and back again. “I understand you had to make a trip to the hospital for stitches. Either one of you care to explain?”

  I exchanged looks with Edgy, who shook her head and pinched her lips together with her thumb and middle finger, sealing off any comment.

  I had to grin at Edgy’s pained expression. “It isn’t her fault,” I said to Marley. “I wanted to have some fun and talked her into going.”

  “Fun?” Marley squinted at us like we were bonkers. “But I thought your fun was pinochle club.”

  Edgy spoke up. “She also does lunches and matinees. Sound like a bloody lot of fun to you?” She gave Marley the look.

  My daughter scanned from Edgy to me. “In case you’re wondering, Fred told me when I arrived. No more than out of my car and I’m hearing about you two. He also said,” she nodded toward Edgy, “that you got into a war of dirty looks with your philandering neighbor over his screwing around. At a church, no less. Why were you there?”

  Now Edgy frowned at Marley. “I think Fred is going to hear about his big mouth, and you better trim your elephant ears by a few notches.”