Читать книгу What We Remember - Michael Thomas Ford - Страница 18

1982

Ada nodded her head, listening to Evelyn Burnham’s description of the last Garden Club meeting, but out of the corner of her eye she was watching her husband as he talked to Bess Kunkel. Soon to be Bess Derry. She couldn’t believe A.J. was actually going to marry the woman, but at least that meant she would be off the market. Not that that would ever stop her, Ada thought.

“The dahlias are absolutely huge this year,” Evelyn said. “And the roses, oh, you should see the roses. The Mary Pickford I put in two years ago is just gorgeous.”

“Do you remember when we were in high school and we found out Bess was stuffing her bra?” Ada said, interrupting Evelyn’s rambling account of her garden’s progress.

Evelyn stopped talking and thought. “You know, I do!” she said. “It was in Mister Reagan’s history class. She raised her hand to answer a question, and Bobby Dugan saw the tissues sticking out.” She laughed. “That was a laugh riot.”

Ada jerked her head toward Bess. “I think she might still be at it,” she said, pulling a face and feigning surprise.

Evelyn glanced over, then turned to Ada, laughing. “You’re terrible,” she said. “But I agree that those do not look like the ones God gave her.”

Satisfied to have drawn Evelyn into a dissection of Bess’s faults, Ada continued on. “I don’t remember her being a blonde either,” she said. “And I think her roots will back me up on that.”

Again Evelyn laughed, and again Ada felt pleased with herself. Two in a row, she congratulated herself. She sipped her gin and tonic and stretched out on the chaise. A mosquito landed on her exposed arm, and she slapped it away. “Damn bugs,” she said. “You’d think A.J. would have set out some citronella candles.”

They were in the Derrys’ backyard, a wide expanse of grass that, like most of their properties, bordered on wilder fields on the edges of the forest that surrounded Cold Falls on its westernmost side. A.J. had built a barbeque pit, and it was around this that the guests sat. Several picnic tables nearby were loaded with food. Ada’s contribution was a green Jell-O salad in the shape of a fish. She had filled the mold halfway and let it set before adding a can of fruit cocktail and the remaining gelatin, so that when the fish was turned out of the mold and set on a plate it appeared to be filled with something it had eaten. Ada was thrilled with the effect and had added it to the assortment of salads and baked dishes with no small amount of pleasure. It was, she thought, one of the most ghastly things she had ever seen at a potluck.

Bess, however, was thrilled with it. She had exclaimed over it for several minutes, assuring Ada that it was one of the cleverest things she’d ever seen and demanding to be told how it had been done. “Those cherries look just like little bugs!” she cried, shaking with laughter.

Daniel had quickly abandoned Ada for the fire pit, where he and the other men were helping A.J. with the all-important cooking of the meat. It never ceased to amaze Ada that men who couldn’t be counted on to boil water or fend for themselves with a refrigerator full of food at their disposal could suddenly transform into master chefs at the merest whiff of lighter fluid. But she didn’t mind, especially if it meant she got to sit with a drink and wait for dinner to be ready.

But now she was annoyed. Bess had broken the husbands-only-at-the-pit rule. While Ada and the other ladies sat a respectable distance from the smoke, Bess was right there in the middle of the men, laughing at their jokes and drinking beer straight from the bottle. Once or twice she’d even pushed the cook aside to take over grill duty, and no one seemed to mind.

“I don’t know what A.J. sees in her,” Ada said. “Rebecca would roll over in her grave if she saw this.”

“Are you sure you’re not just sore because Daniel dated her before he dated you?” asked Olivia Peabody, who was seated to Ada’s right and, like most of the women present, had attended the same high school as Ada and Dan.

There were several muted laughs, which Ada ignored. “I’d forgotten all about that,” she said. “Did he really go with her?”

“Oh, you know he did,” said Anne Wiley who, Ada now recalled, she had never really liked. “Don’t you remember how mad you got when Daniel told you that he couldn’t give you his class ring to wear because he’d lost it, but then it turned out he’d given it to Bess when they were going out and was too shy to ask for it back?”

“She did give it back, though,” Evelyn said. “I remember. It was right before prom. She gave it back and Daniel gave it to you, but you refused to wear it because Bess had.”

Ada nodded. The story was true; she had refused to wear the ring. She’d even broken up with Dan over it, for about forty-eight hours, forgiving him just in time for him to take her to the spring formal. But she never had worn the ring, and she’d never asked him what he’d done with it. She supposed it was in a box somewhere along with his letterman jacket and his various awards.

“You can’t still be mad at her over that,” said Anne. “Heavens, that was more than twenty years ago. You got Daniel. What more do you want?”

“Oh, I’m just teasing,” Ada said, laughing a little too loudly. “I’m glad she and A.J. are getting married.”

And she really was glad, but not because she was happy that A.J. and Bess had found one another. She didn’t for one second believe that Bess could replace A.J.’s late wife in any way. Rebecca had been a wonderful woman, beautiful and kind and full of life. That she had died so suddenly and so horribly—murdered by an intruder—was unforgivable. Ada loved her daughter, Nancy, almost as much as she did her own children. Although Dan disapproved, she was happy that Nancy and James were dating.

Then Bess had returned to Cold Falls, after leaving it nearly twenty years before, claiming to have landed a modeling contract in New York. No one had heard from—or of—her since, and Ada had almost forgotten about her. Then one day she had run into Bess at the supermarket. It had taken a moment for her to remember the striking woman appraising the melons, but when Bess had turned to her and smiled, Ada had recognized her instantly. She’d greeted Bess coolly but Bess, seeming not to notice Ada’s lack of enthusiasm over their meeting, had acted as if they were old friends. Ada had listened politely as Bess filled her in on her life over the past two decades: only minor success as a model, a marriage to a handsome man with a gambling problem, a foray into nursing, a divorce, and now a return to the city of her childhood.

And then there was Nate. Nate, who if he resembled his father at all confirmed Bess’s claims regarding the man’s beauty. Tall and dark, he was as quiet as Bess was loud, as if somehow—thankfully, Ada thought—the father’s genetics had battled Bess’s and won. Ada liked him immediately and forgave him his parentage because he seemed equally as embarrassed by his mother as Ada was. For his sake she had invited the two of them to dinner, hoping that Nate and James—who were about the same age—might become friends.

Regrettably, that had not happened. The boys simply had very little in common, and after a few perfunctory remarks about music and video games they had lapsed into typical teenage silence. Daniel and Bess, however, had chatted endlessly. Ada had endured it, with steadily mounting irritation, until finally she’d reminded Dan that he had to be at the station early the next morning.

They’d had words that evening, with Ada accusing Dan of making her uncomfortable with all of his talk about high school. He, predictably, had been bewildered, asking her why she had invited Bess over in the first place if she didn’t want to be reminded of those years. Unreasonably, she had refused to discuss the situation any further, which only made Dan more confused and her more angry. They’d gone to bed not speaking, the first time in their entire marriage that they’d done so, although in the morning Ada had pretended that nothing was wrong, and Dan had, certainly with no small amount of relief, gone along with it.

It wasn’t long after that that Bess and A.J. had begun dating. At first Ada had hoped that it was just a distraction on A.J.’s part. He hadn’t dated since Rebecca’s death. He blamed himself for not having been there when the house was broken into, but the truth was that he had probably saved both his own and his daughter’s lives. He’d been chaperoning Nancy’s class trip to Hershey Park when the break-in occurred, and although his presence in the house may have scared away the intruders, it was more likely that he and his daughter would have died along with his wife. Rebecca had been killed by a shotgun blast to the head while she slept, and the house had been emptied of cash, jewelry, and things that could be sold for quick money. It was most likely the work of drug addicts looking for a quick score, and Rebecca had been a casualty rather than a target.

Why it should be Bess who had shaken A.J. from his depression was something Ada could not understand. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of a happier time in his life. Perhaps, because she was the opposite of Rebecca, A.J. could be with her without feeling like he was making love to a ghost. Or, she supposed, he might really love her, although she found this difficult to believe.

At any rate, they were getting married. They’d set a date in October. Daniel was to be the best man. Ada, to her relief, was not asked to stand up beside Bess. That honor was going to Bess’s sister, Louise, who had also left Cold Falls many years before and was now living somewhere in Minnesota. She was a few years younger than Bess, and Ada did not remember her at all.

“Come on, girls. We’ve got some hot, juicy meat for all of you.”

Ada looked up to see Bess standing over her, tongs in hand. She snapped them together—clack, clack, clack—and laughed. “Up and at ’em, Ada. I’ve saved you a good one.”

Ada swung her legs over the side of the chaise and stood up. She reluctantly followed the other women over to the barbeque, where Bess was now handing out chicken and hot dogs and hamburgers, loudly exhorting everyone to eat as much as possible. When she turned to Ada with a piece of chicken held in the tongs, Ada shook her head. “That’s too much for me,” she objected.

Bess instead dropped the chicken onto Dan’s plate. “Here you go, Danny,” she said. “I know you can handle it. You always were a breast man.”

Dan laughed, and Ada stared at him, disgusted. Without waiting for Bess to offer her something else, she stormed over to the picnic table and began heaping a plate with macaroni salad, baked beans, and chips. Dan, coming up behind her, glanced at the plate and asked, “Aren’t you having a hamburger or something?”

Ada snorted. “I’ve had enough ‘something’ to last me the rest of the night,” she said. “But you apparently haven’t.”

“Whoa,” Dan said, touching her arm. “What’s going on here?”

She pulled away from him. “That woman is what’s going on here,” Ada replied. “That loud, vile woman you all seem to think is so fascinating.”

“Bess?” said Daniel. “You’re upset about Bess?”

“I’m not upset,” Ada told him. “I just don’t like her.”

“This isn’t about high school, is it?” her husband asked. “Because that would just be ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t about high school,” said Ada. “But even if it were, why would that be ridiculous?”

“How about because it was a million years ago?” Dan suggested. “And you and I have been married for what, eighteen years?”

“Nineteen,” Ada corrected him.

Dan shook his head. “What is it with women,” he said. “You can’t let go of anything.”

Ada, who was scooping ambrosia onto her plate, set the spoon down. “What exactly should I be letting go of?” she asked.

“You’re jealous,” said Dan. “Plain and simple.”

“Of Bess Kunkel?” Ada said. “You think I’m jealous of Bess Kunkel?”

Dan, apparently not sensing the dangerous territory into which he had just wandered, nodded. “You always have been. Ever since that business with the ring.” He picked up a chip and put it in his mouth. “It’s okay. I get it. I mean, look at her.”

Ada felt her hands shaking. She set her plate on the table and stepped back. “If for one second you think that I am jealous of that tramp, then you don’t know me at all, Dan McCloud.”

Dan looked at her, clearly shocked. He said nothing as Ada continued.

“And if you think that is something worth going after, then be my guest. Apparently you haven’t gotten over her after all.”

She realized that several people had overheard the conversation, but she didn’t care. Let them hear, she thought. Better yet, let them talk. She knew they would, and she hoped Bess would be humiliated. But secretly she feared that she was the one who would be humiliated. When Olivia, or Anne, or even Evelyn heard what she’d said to Dan, the rumors would start. “Did you hear? Ada thinks something is going on between Dan and Bess!” She could hear it now, the whispers and the giggling, the stares and the exchange of knowing looks.

Maybe, she thought, she had made a grave error in being so open about her hostility toward Bess. She should have kept the matter private between her and Dan. Instead, she’d broken the cardinal rule of domestic life and aired her laundry in public. True, not many people had heard, but enough had that what little spark she’d ignited would soon grow and spread.

Dan was looking at her strangely, as if he’d never seen her before. She didn’t like the look in his eyes, which were filled with both hurt and anger. Suddenly she wanted to be at home, where it was safe. She couldn’t stand the idea that she was being looked at, that she was being judged. She felt vulnerable, and frightened, and she didn’t like what she had become. All because of Bess.

“I’m not feeling well,” she said. “I think I should just go.” She turned and saw Anne looking at her. “My stomach,” she said vaguely. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

She stumbled away from the picnic tables, away from the fire and the laughter and her husband. She waited for Dan to follow her, but he remained where he was, watching her run into the darkness. And as she ran she heard the sound of Bess’s voice, laughing as if she’d just heard the greatest joke in all the world.