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Both protested only mildly before sitting down at the table. Gin gave thanks to God for the meal, and there was lively conversation as they ate. Everyone was relieved at the report of successful surgery, and optimistic about Gram’s recovery.
Only once did anyone mention Rob’s profession this time. He glanced toward Jana before replying, “I should get used to people wondering what kind of person chooses to become a mortician instead of a doctor or lawyer or automobile salesman or short-order cook. Y’know what happened when I first told Vanessa I’d decided to do this?”
She felt heat rising in her face and knew they must see her heightened coloring as he announced, “She laughed at me, that’s what!”
He had never referred to that before, and she’d hoped he had forgotten. “That was incredibly rude of me,” she admitted, looking at everyone except him, “but it was such a surprise. He’d talked for years of becoming a family practitioner or a physician’s assistant, or perhaps a physical therapist. And for a while he even considered becoming a minister.
“Any of those would have meant intense involvement with living people, and then there he was, speaking of working with…” she stammered, unsure how to finish the thought without mentioning corpses or bodies “…with people after they’ve died.” She forced herself to look at him and was relieved to see him smiling.
“It’s okay, Van.” His right hand seemed to be reaching toward her, but came to rest on the table’s edge. “I shouldn’t have teased about it.”
Vanessa didn’t know if Gin was deliberately maneuvering the conversation away from that topic when she told of two late-afternoon calls from people asking about Gram, but Vanessa was glad for the change of subject!
Rob soon explained that he had to leave, and she walked out with him and down the steps. “Thanks again for bringing Miz Aggie’s wonderful meal.”
His little nod was probably in place of saying You’re welcome, but his words were, “Do you always call her that?”
She chuckled. “She was my Sunday School teacher when I was maybe five or six. Gram and other ladies her age called her by her first name, so I did, too, until Gram corrected me. But Mrs. Seaforth said I could call her Miz Aggie—well, that’s what I understood, though she probably said, Mrs. Anyway, she’s been that to me and many others ever since.”
He stopped on the sidewalk. “She speaks very highly of you, Van, and is impressed with your moving right in here—taking care of the girls and everything.”
“Gram’s very concerned for them, and so am I. What’s remarkable is that other people are doing so much.”
He looked back toward the house. “I told Mrs. Redding that I could stay this afternoon until you got here, but she insisted she wanted to.”
Her shoe scuffed against the leaf-strewn flagstones. “In order to get this facility up and running, a number of conditions had to be met, one being that at no time can there be unsupervised visiting by a male.”
“I hadn’t thought of myself as a ‘visiting male.’” His mouth twisted into a smile. “But I can see that my motives could be suspect.”
“Several times men or boys have called, wanting to visit or to go out with one of the girls, so it is a necessary rule.” She grinned up at this man a good six inches taller than her height of five-eight. “There was no way of foreseeing that a nice, good-looking young mortician just might want to be helpful.” Is he wincing a little? It seems as though there’s a flicker of—what?
“I was already a man, Vanessa, even before becoming a funeral director—I was an individual before a professional.” His words seemed more subdued than usual, and there was something like pain in his eyes. “I still am.”
She glanced down at her shoe again, scraping back and forth in telltale discomfort. Transferring her weight to the offending foot, she looked back up into his deep-brown eyes, so near she could see herself in them. “I know.”
Rob hoped she really did think of him as a man; his regard for her had nothing to do with her efficiency as manager and executive secretary of the plant started several years before by Andi and her electronics-genius father. He wanted to continue the conversation with some casual remark, but before he could do so she returned to the previous subject. “Miz Aggie must have been relieved at your willingness to bring the meal she fixed.”
“It was my privilege. And I thank you for the invitation to stay for dinner.”
“It was the least we could do. For both you and Gin.”
Was she aware of his feelings and deliberately trying to remind him that it was not just he who’d been asked to stay? She started back toward the porch, but he noticed that she didn’t go up the steps until he waved as he pulled away. She appeared to be moving more slowly than usual—could it be his wishing that made it seem so?
What did he really know of the Vanessa McHenry of today? She was so beautiful he could still hardly keep from staring at her, like he used to in senior high. That perfect, light-complexioned, heart-shaped face above the classic column of her neck; the long blond hair with just enough wave to emphasize its softness and catch the sunlight or moon-glow—or fashioned into French braids, as she sometimes wore it….
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he turned into the alley, pushed the remote, and watched his garage door rise slowly. He drove in, got out of the car and started through the doorway into his house, almost forgetting to lower the door of the garage.
History does, indeed, repeat itself; you were so sure you could manage it this time—being a friend, just a helpful friend. But you never did get over her.
And you still have no idea what went wrong before, or how to keep it from happening again….
He went through the small utility room; everything was in order there and in the good-size kitchen. He’d promised himself that he would keep things neat when he bought this three-bedroom, ten-year-old brick ranch house.
He knew all too well from college days how easy it was to let things go. His room had always been in disarray and he was constantly searching for things. Well, he’d succeeded by sheer will-power in keeping that resolution; how could he now keep from falling even more deeply in love with this remarkable woman?
The sensible thing would be to keep a distance from her physically, but even considering that was painful.
Walking through the broad archway into the dining end of the large room stretching in front of the kitchen and one bedroom, Rob turned left into his office and pushed the answering machine’s flashing button. The first message was from Elmer Harnish, his partner, asking him to call a son of the man whose viewing was scheduled for the next morning at ten, prior to the memorial service. The second was his mother, and the third had been left by Betty Jefferson.
There was no question as to which callback to make first, as he always enjoyed Mom’s upbeat conversations. Several winters ago she’d been asked by Great-Aunt Beatrice Maroney to spend January and February with her in Fort Myers, on Florida’s Gulf side. They got along so well that they repeated this every year, each time her stay getting longer.
Physically better there, Aunt Bea decided to remain year-round. She was doing well, considering her ninety-two years, but diminishing eyesight meant she could no longer drive, and she wasn’t surefooted enough to walk far by herself.
“We appreciate your letting us know about Gram’s accident, and that she was going through surgery,” Sylvia Corland told him. “We’ve been praying for her, of course, but do need an update.”
He filled her in as much as possible, which led to her asking how Vanessa was making out with the five she, too, referred to as Gram’s girls.
“It’s been tough, Mom, so you might want to keep praying for Van. In addition to an extremely responsible load at work, she comes back at night and has to care for everything at her grandmother’s.”
“I’d think the girls would be able to go ahead with some things.”
“I don’t know for sure just what they’re capable of. Women from the church began what I know you sometimes did—they’re sending in the major meal of the day.”
“Well, good! That at least takes off some of the pressure.”
“But she’s trying to do too much—helping the three oldest with preparations for GEDs, making sure the younger ones keep up with their homework, seeing that each one does her part with laundry, cleaning and other tasks….”
“Does she seem overwhelmed?”
“No, she doesn’t, and I admire her for that.”
There was the briefest of pauses. “Just go easy, dear.”
He shouldn’t be surprised, but hadn’t expected her to sense his—love? Infatuation? “I took food for the first day, takeouts from the steak house.” He chose not to mention staying to eat that night or the next one! “Aggie Seaforth prepared today’s.”
They spoke of a number of things, but near the end she came back to their initial topic. “When you see Gram or Vanessa again, tell them they’re in our prayers. All of them are….”
The call to the deceased man’s son took only a few minutes as Rob reassured him that someone would be directing traffic at each of the two major intersections on Broad Street, so cars in the slow funeral procession would not get separated.
Also, there’d probably be no difficulty adding another person who wished to share memories at the service, but this should be discussed with their pastor right away. And it was, of course, too late to have his name on the printed memorial folder.
He was smiling as he made the third call. Betty was four or five years younger than Vanessa and himself, twenty-five or twenty-six. He remembered her in Youth Fellowship during the last year or two before he left for college, a bubbly, outgoing, bright-eyed redhead involved with every program and service project.
She married Paul Jefferson soon after high school graduation, and they now had a four-year-old son, a two-year-old daughter and an infant. “Thanks for calling back,” she greeted, “though you may be sorry you did.”
He laughed. “I promise to at least give you the chance to tell about it before I hang up.”
“I thought you might—hoped so, anyway. I was talking with Miz Aggie, and she said you delivered her dinner to Gram’s. Right?”
He’d already guessed what she wanted and quickly offered to deliver the dinner she would prepare the following day.
He slowly set down the phone. His shoulders were straight and head high as he sat down in the tall-backed oak chair and glanced at the many cubicles in his antique rolltop desk. As good as he felt right now, he should be able to zip through the paperwork which had accumulated over the past two days. If only he could keep from thinking about Vanessa for just a little while….
Chapter Three
This night was not going nearly as well for Vanessa as she’d hoped. Oh, it started out fine, more than fine while Rob was there, but when she came in after seeing him off she found that neither Jana nor Barb had started her homework.
They sat glaring across the kitchen table, in a seething silence she tried to break by speaking directly to one, then the other. Receiving only monosyllabic answers to questions about their assignments, Vanessa leaned back in her chair. “Okay, who wants to tell me what’s going on?”
Silence. Averted glances.
“Barb, please explain whatever I should know.”
Jana pouted. “Just ’cause she’s a few lousy months older, she always gets chosen first!”
“You were given the opportunity and could have answered. Now I’m asking Barb.”
Barb was the quietest of the five, somewhat timid and nervous, the thumb of her right hand presently worrying a hangnail on her left forefinger. “Jana thinks she’s the only person in the whole world!”
Vanessa shook her head, frowning, to stop Jana from interrupting. “Like with your friend,” Barb continued. “Jana thinks Rob’s falling for her, if you can believe anything that dumb!”
“He talked to me more than to you or anyone else! You know he did.”
“’Cause you kept barging into every single conversation he tried to have! With Vanessa or Mrs. Redding or anyone.”
“I was just being friendly!” Her dark-blue eyes were stormy. “Not like you, sitting there like some stupid old lump.”
Jana’s records had shown that she believed every man or boy who paid attention to her considered her irresistible. Although sexually active for at least two years, she was unwilling to take responsibility for being almost six months’ pregnant.
“That’s better than making an idiot of yourself and preening like a peacock. Or strutting your stuff.”
“Oh, Miss Priss!”
“That is enough, Jana!” Vanessa turned back to Barb. “Is there anything you want to add?”
She drew in a quick breath and opened her mouth, then closed it again as she sat there in thin-lipped dudgeon. It was several seconds before she blurted, “She’s always running me down!”
Vanessa knew Barb needed building up, but she couldn’t do that now. “I know how hard it is for both of you, being seventeen. I had a rough time of it, too, when I was your age. But Gram’s doing everything she can to help all of you through this, not only because of your age but because you’re pregnant, which also can make women edgy.
“It’s been a tall order right from the beginning, but she’s done her best, and at this point we don’t even know if she can continue it when she gets out, so…”
Barb was leaning forward, staring. “You mean—we might get sent back home?”
That last word came out as a high-pitched squeal, and the girl’s hazel eyes were so huge Vanessa could see white all around the pupils.
“How would you feel if that happens?”
“I’m not going back there.” Her head moved forcefully from side to side. “No one can make me do that.”
“Then it behooves you and Jana to shape up.”
“I mean it. I won’t go back.” Barb never looked well, as skinny as she was and often, like now, her head and shoulders were bent forward as though carrying a tremendous burden. “I’ll run away first—or kill myself.”
She’s seldom this forceful, this dramatic, Vanessa thought. “Was it that bad?”
“Worse!” Barb’s hands were wringing one another there on the table. “Mom picks such awful guys!”
Vanessa couldn’t remember the reports going deeply into the lifestyle of her mother, but as she was trying to decide how to ask the question, Jana burst out with it, “Is he the guy who got you pregnant?”
A shudder ran through Barb. “I don’t even want to talk about him. He’s evil!”
What would Gram do? Vanessa wondered. Would she keep the girl talking, hoping that, once out in the open, it could be dealt with?
Jana was already asking, “Did your mom know about it?”
“She didn’t do anything. She’s as bad as he is!”
“Worse, if you ask me! My mom didn’t give a hoot about me, but I can hardly believe yours would let her boyfriend do whatever he wanted! Both of them should rot in jail.”
It’s amazing—Jana’s utterly appalled by the wickedness done to this girl she herself harasses! But what Vanessa said was, “At least you’re safe here, Barb.”
“I’m—not sure. Mom had to sign for me to come, since I’m just seventeen, so she knows where I am.” She fidgeted as she cleared her throat. “Two days ago a red car went past here that looked like his. But I ducked down, so I can’t say absolutely, positively it was him driving, but the car had a replacement fender on the right front, just like his. And it was going real slow.”
Vanessa tried to keep from showing her horror at this development. “Have you told anyone?”
Barb’s long, straight blond hair whipped from side to side with her vigorous head shake. “I thought I’d tell Gram yesterday, but am sure glad I didn’t!”
“Glad?” Jana challenged, eyes still large.
“If she’d fallen right after I told her, I’d never have forgiven myself!” Her hair swung forward, partially concealing the tear-smudged, downward-tilted face.
Vanessa went to her, reassuring, “We understand your being frightened, dear, but I’m glad you told us. We can help you.”
“Nobody can—not forever.” It was a wail of hopelessness. “He could grab me on my way to school. Or come here…”
“I don’t think he’d try that—not with all of us here with you.”
Jana chimed in with her own encouragement, “Sure, we’ll tell the others and—”
“Don’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t plan to.”
“We had to know, Barb. From now on I’ll drive you to school each morning, and you two can make a point of coming home together.” Aware of Jana’s apprehension, she asked, “You often walk back with other girls, don’t you?”
“Just sometimes.” Barb looked toward Jana. “And I don’t want you or anyone else hurt.”
Vanessa needed to ask, “You honestly think there could be danger to others?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve been so scared….”
