Читать книгу The Homecoming Hero Returns - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 10

T he architect who designed the apartment building where the Westports lived had been very generous in regard to the size of the platform of the fire escape accessible through the window of the master bedroom.

Three years ago four families in the building, including the Westports, had put together a plan to spruce up the platforms. The men had provided the labor in the evenings, scraping, sanding, then painting each with glossy black enamel.

The women had supplied potluck dinners and also sewed puffy cushions to sit on to hopefully catch a breeze during the tormenting summers. Kettledrum barbecues were purchased and delicious aromas wafted through the air during the spring and summer.

At ten o’clock that night David and Sandra sat on the cushions and watched the fireflies flitting through the hot and humid air. A citronella candle burned in a small holder, casting a circle of golden light.

They’d had a pleasant evening with the kids which had included the barbecued hamburgers and fruit salad for dinner, a game of Frisbee in the playground down the street, then big dishes of ice cream with a cupcake on the side before the twins headed for bed.

David yawned.

“May I quote you on that?” Sandra said, smiling over at him.

“All that sun at the pool zapped me,” he said, turning his head to meet and match her smile. “But that’s to be expected because our charming children informed me today that I’m old because I like country and western music.”

“Well, you are in the downhill slide, sweetie pie,” Sandra said. “Me? At twenty-nine I’m still in my youthful prime.”

“Ah,” David said, nodding. He laced his fingers on his flat stomach and closed his eyes. “Maybe I’ll sleep right here tonight. It’s got to be cooler outside than it is in our bedroom.”

“The mosquitos obviously think so,” Sandra said, smacking her arm. She paused. “David?”

“Hmm?” he said, not opening his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what was in the letter from Saunders University?”

“What—” he yawned again “—letter?”

“The one that came in the mail today. I’d forgotten about it until now.”

David opened his eyes and turned his head to frown at Sandra.

“Mail. Mail? You know, I didn’t stop long enough to check the credenza. Never thought about it. There’s a letter from Saunders? That’s a first. I’ve been spared the pitch for money all these years because I’m not an alumni, per se. That’s a perk of not graduating.”

“Let’s not broach that subject,” Sandra said. “Not tonight. Aren’t you curious about the letter?”

“Not curious enough to trek into the house and get it.” He chuckled. “But you’re obviously about to pop a seam wanting to know what it says.”

“I am not,” she said indignantly, then laughed in the next instant. “Yes, I am. I’ll go get it. Okay?”

“Hey, you can even open it and see what the deal is.”

“Nope,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’ve never opened your mail and never will. I will, however, personally deliver it to you.”

“Whatever,” he said, closing his eyes again.

Sandra returned minutes later and placed the letter on David’s chest. She waited. Seconds ticked by. She tapped her foot and pursed her lips. Then she picked up the letter and smacked him in the head with it. David laughed in delight and snatched the envelope from her hand.

“I wondered how long you’d last,” he said, tearing the end off the envelope.

He shook out a folded piece of stationery, then tilted it toward the candlelight so he could see to read the typing.

“I’ll be damned,” he said finally.

Sandra sat sideways on the cushion and leaned toward him.

“What? What?” she said.

“Do you remember Professor Harrison? Gilbert Harrison?”

“Harrison,” Sandra said slowly, searching her mind. “No, I… Oh, wait. Yes. He was my advisor. I saw him twice, that was it. Once to get my class list approved, and then later to have him sign my withdrawal slip when I quit. Is that who the letter is from?”

“Yeah,” David said. “Here—read it yourself.”

Sandra accepted the paper and shifted closer to the candle.

“He says he’s planning a reunion of a select number of students and he’s inviting you to come and bring your lovely wife, Sandra? He realizes that it’s short notice and while it would be nice if everyone could arrive at once he realizes that might not be possible. But he does hope we’ll come to the campus before the fall semester starts.” She looked over at David who met her gaze. “This is strange, David. It’s certainly a weird way to have a reunion. Do you think Professor Harrison has gotten senile since we were at Saunders?”

“I doubt it,” David said. “He’d only…let’s see…oh, probably be in his mid-to late fifties now. That’s a tad young for dementia.”

“I know, but this last line here where he says it’s actually imperative that all those he is inviting arrive before the fall semester starts has a…a frantic tone to it, don’t you think?”

“What I think is that your journalist mind is working overtime,” David said. “A summer reunion just makes more sense because he’ll be so busy when fall classes start up again.”

“Mmm,” she said. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But who are these select number of former students, and why are you one of them?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“And we’ll never know, because we aren’t going to his planned-at-the-last-minute reunion.”

“Why not?” David said, frowning. “The week after next the kids are scheduled to attend that sport camp. We’ll have a whole week free. Well, we’d have to pay Henry and company to cover the store but…” He shrugged. “What the hell, it’s only money.”

“But…” Sandra said. “I was hoping you and I might be able to have a few days in a…a romantic bed and breakfast and…I got some brochures for you to look at and…” She sighed. “Never mind. It would be more than our budget could handle, anyway.”

“Honey, listen,” David said, reaching over and taking one of her hands. “The bed-and-breakfast thing sounds nice, it really does but…look, when I was at Saunders I had a lot going on with Professor Harrison. He was my advisor, I was in his freshman and sophomore English classes, and he was the batting coach for the baseball team.”

“Oh,” she said. “I forgot about that.”

“I owe the man a lot,” David continued. “He was good to me, a friend as well as all the other roles he had in my life. When I plain old flunked out he was upset for me, not at me, you get what I mean?

“My father practically disowned me because I wasn’t going to be a pro baseball player, has never really forgiven me because he lived his life through me after my mom died. You know how strained things still are between my dad and me.

“Anyway, I just feel that if Professor Harrison wants me at this reunion thing, whatever it is, I should be there. Lord knows, he was always there for me when I needed him.”

“I understand, David. Okay,” Sandra said quietly. “I wonder how many days he wants you to be on campus? Having to go back and forth between Saunders and here is a wicked drive in the traffic. Well, whatever. Sure. It’s fine.”

“Hey, how about this?” he said, squeezing her hand. “I know you’re disappointed about the bed-and-breakfast plan. What if we stayed in Boston in a hotel, eat out, the whole bit? I’ll even go to a couple of museums with you. What do you think?”

Sandra smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you, David. But I do keep wondering how long Professor Harrison expects you to be there for this reunion?”

“Even more,” David said, frowning, “I wonder why the sudden reunion in the first place?”

At the church bake sale the next morning, Sandra and one of her close friends, Cindy Morrison, shuffled goodies around on the long table to make more room for the offerings. As they worked, stopping to smile at people who picked up their selections, Sandra told Cindy about the letter from Professor Harrison.

“That’s not a reunion,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “It’s a demand—okay, I’ll be nice—a request to a chosen group to come back to the campus. A college reunion is a whole slew of people that were in the same graduating class of whenever, stuff like that. I’ve never heard of anything like this Professor Harrison guy is asking for. If this was a movie I’d have the creeps by now.”

Sandra laughed. “There’s nothing sinister about it, Cindy, it’s just unusual. Strange. Well, borderline weird.”

Cindy sighed. “Well, all you can do is show up and find out what the scoop is. Plus, you get some delicious private time with that sexy husband of yours. The last time I suggested such a thing to Paul he said it sounded great, just be sure and call ahead to make sure the hotel I booked was near an eighteen-hole golf course. He’s as romantic as a rock.”

“But you love him,” Sandra said, smiling.

“Yeah. He’s a jerk, but he’s my jerk. I may even forgive him for giving me a Crock-Pot for Christmas last year.” Cindy paused. “Back to the mystery. You don’t know the names of the other people Professor Harrison wants to see. Right?”

“Right.”

“Darn. There might have been a clue there.” Cindy tapped one fingertip against her chin. “You know, like they all played baseball and he’s getting nostalgic in his old age and wants to see the team he helped coach. You know, like A League of Their Own.”

“Yes,” Sandra said, nodding slowly. “It’s probably something that simple. If he would have said get together instead of reunion I probably wouldn’t have gotten into such a dither. It’s just that, like you said, a reunion usually means a whole bunch of people and this is a chosen bunch of people and…We’ve been over all this. I’ll give you a full report when we get back.”

“Including details about your private time with sexy David?” Cindy said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“No!”

“Mom,” Michael said, coming to the front of the table carrying a plate. “Can we buy these?”

“Michael,” Sandra said, “I made those cupcakes. There are still some left at home.”

“Not many and they’re good.”

“Well, thank you, sir,” she said, laughing, “but go pick something someone else baked so we can have a surprise.”

“What if it’s gross?”

“Then we’ll all die of food poisoning, or some dread disease,” she said. “Live wild, Michael.”

“Lame,” he said, stomping away.

“He’s so cute,” Cindy said.

“Easy for you to say,” Sandra said, “your bundle of joy is still in diapers and can’t talk. Ten is a gruesome age. To Michael, everything is lame. Molly? Her word for the year is ‘boring,’ which even includes breakfast, I’ll have you know.”

“Actually,” Cindy said, staring into space, “breakfast is a bit boring if you think about it.”

“Not my blueberry pancakes made into animal shapes,” David said, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Hi, David,” Cindy said, smiling. “Sandra and I have been trying to solve the mystery of the so-called reunion, but Agatha Christies we are not. I’m going to be very disappointed if it’s something as boring—to quote your daughter—as a gathering of the ancient baseball team.”

“Ancient?” David said, his eyes widening. “How do you feel about country and western music, Ms. Morrison? I do believe you and Paul took line-dancing lessons last year if my memory serves. According to Molly that automatically qualifies you for Medicare.”

“I used to like your kids,” Cindy said, laughing, “but erase that. Jeez.”

“Sandra,” David said, turning to his wife, “are you ready for this? I was just talking to Clem Hunter. He and Madge are leaving for Europe next week.” He jiggled some keys at eye level. “He loaned us his car for the trip to Boston. A car that has air-conditioning that actually works every time you turn it on. How about that?”

“David,” Sandra said, her eyes as big as saucers, “Clem drives a Lexus. We can’t borrow a Lexus and take it into city traffic. What if it gets bumped or bent or something gruesome?”

“Whoa,” Cindy said. “Remember what you told your son, Sandra. Live wild. Take the Lexus.”

“Amen,” David said, nodding decisively. “We’re going in the Lexus. The station wagon has air that works when it’s in the mood and my clunker pickup doesn’t have air, or heat for that matter. Oh, by the way, I put my name on some goodies for dessert from this vast array of delicacies.”

“You did?” Sandra said. “Michael is picking out something even as we speak. What did you buy?”

“Some of your cupcakes.”

Cindy dissolved in a fit of laughter.

On the Friday afternoon before they left for Saunders, Sandra hired a teenage neighbor to take the twins to the city pool.

She was going to have one new dress, she decided. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so self-indulgent, but by the same token she couldn’t remember when she’d had David all to herself.

Whatever Professor Harrison wanted of David, it wouldn’t take up his time for twenty-four hours a day. And when bedtime came it would be just the two of them in the luscious hotel where David had made the reservations.

Her first thought had been to buy a seductive nightie, but she’d shifted mental gears and decided she’d rather have a special dress to wear to one of the romantic and just-the-two-of-them dinners they would share.

As Sandra browsed through a medium-priced store, she frowned.

She was counting so much on this trip putting the spark back into her and David’s marriage. She wanted him to look at her and realize he still loved her, tell her so with that love glowing in his eyes, erase from his mind the idea of leaving her when the twins were grown. She wanted him to make sweet, sweet love to her for hours, declaring his love and devotion over and over. She wanted to come home knowing they still had a forever together.

Sandra sighed as she took a hanger from a rack and held the dress at arm’s length to scrutinize it.

Or was it too late for any of that? she thought miserably. Would being back on the Saunders University campus just emphasize to David how close he had come to achieving his dreams of being a professional ball player and all that status would bring to his world? Dreams that had been shattered by her tearful announcement that she was pregnant. Would this trip do more damage to their marriage than good? God, what a depressing thought.

Sandra returned home without a new dress, her enthusiasm for the purchase completely erased by her chilling thoughts. She had a long, loud cry in the shower.

Even though the incredible Lexus now sat in their driveway, Sandra put her foot down about making the trip to Connecticut in the expensive car to meet her parents, who were going to take care of the twins during their week at sport camp.

“Absolutely not, David,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “The kids think they’re starving two seconds after they fasten their seat belts. I’ll be a nervous wreck the whole time because I’ll be afraid they’ll spill something or get that butter-soft leather sticky or… No. No, no, no. We’re going in the wagon.”

“But…”

“No!”

David nodded. “I have a great idea. Let’s drive to Connecticut in the station wagon.”

“You’re a wise man, Mr. Westport.”

On Sunday they drove to the agreed-upon meeting place in Bridgeport, Connecticut, where they enjoyed lunch with Sandra’s parents.

“This whole reunion mystery is fascinating,” her mother said in the restaurant.

“Only because this Professor Harrison used the word reunion,” Sandra’s father said, “instead of saying he’d like to see a few of his favorite students again if possible. You women are making too much of this thing. Right, David?” He looked at his son-in-law. “Right?”

David shrugged. “I don’t know. There was a…oh, a strange tone to the letter from Professor Harrison. I should have brought the letter along so you could see what I mean. I’m afraid I’ll have to side with the ladies on this one. It is a tad mysterious.”

“Score one for us, darling,” Sandra’s mother said, patting her daughter’s hand.

“Professor Harrison brainwashed you when you were going there,” Michael said, in a deep voice. “You are under his control, Dad, and when he says a certain word you will be powerless. The time has come for you to carry out a secret assignment, which will result in pizza being delivered to our house three times a week free of charge for the next one hundred and fifty years. That is the mystery surrounding his demand to see you.”

Molly giggled.

“I understand,” David said, matching Michael’s deep tone. “I have only one question, Mighty Michael.”

“Speak.”

“What toppings are on the pizzas?”

“May I come live with you, Mother?” Sandra said.

“No, dear. I’m afraid whatever it is those two have might be catching. You may already be affected. Have you made out your will? I’d like to have the cute little garden gnome you have on the fire escape.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sandra said, laughing. “This entire family is cuckoo.”

When Sandra and David drove out of the parking lot to the restaurant, Sandra sniffled.

“The kids looked so little all of a sudden, David. They’re awfully young to be away a whole week.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I almost canceled the deal at the last minute and told them to get into this vehicle because we were going home.” David chuckled. “Do note that you and I are the only ones who are struggling with this. The kids were all smiles.”

“I realize that.” Sandra sighed. “Well, at least they’ll be sleeping under my parents’ roof every night during the week. That makes me feel a bit better.”

“And it’s not as though we’re just going to be hanging around a suddenly very quiet house,” David said, glancing over at her. “We’re off on our own adventure.”

“Yes. Staying in a fancy hotel, dining instead of just eating dinner, able to concentrate on each other with no interruptions.” Sandra sighed wistfully. “It will, indeed, be an adventure. A very romantic one, don’t you think?”

“Oh. Oh, sure thing. You bet.”

Sandra frowned. “But you were referring to the adventure of meeting with Professor Harrison. Right?”

“Well…”

“David?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, grinning at her. “But only because the subject practically consumed the conversation at lunch.”

“Mmm,” Sandra said, rolling her eyes heavenward. She looked over at David again. “Did you call Professor Harrison and tell him we were coming?”

“No, I thought about doing that,” David said, his attention riveted on the heavy traffic, “but when I stopped and remembered all the times we had to cancel plans because of sick kids or an emergency at the store or car trouble, and on and on, I decided to not jinx this trip. We’ll just show up and surprise him.”

“In our Lexus,” Sandra said, poking her nose in the air. “Oh, la-di-da.”

“I’m going to make a sign to put in the back window of the Lexus,” David said, smiling, “that says, ‘This car is borrowed so don’t hit it.’” He glanced quickly at his watch. “You know, if we make decent time getting home it won’t be too late for a very enjoyable activity.”

Sandra’s heart did a little two-step.

Like making love? she thought. In the living room. The kitchen. Anywhere they wanted to because the house was all theirs. Or maybe in the shower. Oh, heavens, how many years had it been since they’d done that?

“Oh?” she said, attempting to produce a seductive little purr in her voice that actually sounded like she needed to clear her throat.

“Yeah. I might be able to catch the last of the baseball game on the tube. A bottle of beer, a hot batch of popcorn, put my feet up and enjoy.”

Sandra’s shoulders slumped. “Well, fine, David, but I want you to know that if you ever give me a Crock-Pot for Christmas I won’t forgive you like Cindy would.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” she said, looking out the side window. “Just drive the car and get us home. I’m going to take a long, leisurely bubble bath when we get there.”

“Good for you,” he said, pressing a little harder on the gas pedal. “We both have something to look forward to this evening.”

Separate somethings, Sandra thought miserably. Didn’t David realize that were growing further and further apart, traveling in the same direction but not intertwined? Maybe he did, but didn’t care. Why would it upset him if he didn’t love her anymore?

Oh, they got along fine, didn’t argue, laughed, talked, made love when they weren’t exhausted, moved from one day to the next with the major focus of their existence being on their children.

Sandra sighed.

But David no longer said that he loved her.