The Day Bob Greeley Died, Page 2

  And she hated it.

  Not for the first time in her marriage—not even for the first time that day—Grace wanted to plunge a knife deep into his cold heart.

  Chapter 2

  Miriam Lawson sat sipping tea on her front porch when Bob Greeley drove past her house. Her eyes followed him as he made his way down the dirt road, away from his house and toward town. He kept his head high and looked straight ahead, just like he always did.

  As Miriam watched him with obvious contempt, her husband came out of the house with his own glass of tea. He limped across the porch and sat in the chair next to Miriam. “Where’s he going?” he asked.

  “Where do you think?” Miriam answered curtly. “He’s going to that whore’s house.”

  “Now, Miriam…”

  “Now Miriam nothing. You know as well as I do that’s where he’s going.”

  “I just meant that you can’t very well call her a whore. You don’t really know her.”

  Miriam snapped her head around to glare at her husband. “I know enough. I know she sleeps with a married a man. Any woman who’ll tear apart a happy home isn’t much of a woman.” She took a sip of tea before asking, “And just why in the world would you take up for her, Bruce?”

  “I’m not taking up for her. I just don’t think you should go around calling her names like that when you don’t really know her.”

  Turning her attention back to Bob Greeley and his rusty old 1937 Studebaker, which by this time was nearly out of her sight and lost in a cloud of dust that followed in his wake, Miriam said, “Well I know enough.”

  “I also don’t think you could call what Bob and Grace have a happy home.”

  “Of course you can’t. Not now. Not with him sleeping with the new town whore.”

  Bruce looked at Miriam and drew his brows together in confusion. “The new town whore? Who was the old one?”

  Miriam waved her hand toward him. “You know what I mean. She’s new in town, and she’s obviously a woman of ill repute.”

  “I don’t think it’s obvious.”

  “How can you say that? How can you think she could possibly have a good reputation? You know Bob goes over there. You know he goes alone, without Grace. No married man should be going to some other woman’s house without the company of his wife. It doesn’t look right.”

  “Only to those watching,” Bruce said softly. When Miriam glared at him, he smiled at her.

  “I don’t care what you say. You know what I know, and what I know is that Bob Greeley — a married man, happy or otherwise — frequents the house of a single woman. It isn’t right.” She took a drink of tea, assuming the discussion was over.

  “I’d say it’s been a long time since those two were happy.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Bruce shrugged. “I just don’t think they’ve been happy for a long time. Especially Grace.”

  “How would you know, Bruce? How often do you see Grace?”

  “That’s the point. She stays all by herself way out there in that house every day. How happy can she be?”

  Miriam thought about that as she took another drink, swishing the sweet liquid around in her mouth before swallowing. After a moment’s thought, she decided that Bruce was right. Though she’d thought many times about Grace spending all her time alone, and had often wondered why anyone would want to be alone that much, she’d never considered that maybe it wasn’t by choice. Or that maybe it was because she was unhappy.

  “Perhaps you should go see her,” Bruce suggested.

  Fanning herself with her free hand, Miriam sighed. “Maybe. But I doubt that’s a good idea. I don’t think I can keep my mouth shut about her husband and his girlfriend.”

  “I doubt she knows. About his visits to the house down the road, that is.”

  “Well someone should tell her.”

  “Not you.”

  Miriam looked at Bruce. “Why not?”

  “No, Miriam. Stay out of other people’s business. Don’t go stirring up a hornet’s nest with your gossip and nonsense.”

  “Gossip and nonsense? You know as well as I do that it’s a fact he’s sleeping with that harlot.”

  “I don’t know that for a fact. I certainly haven’t seen them in the act of intercourse. In fact, now that I think about it, I’ve never even seen the two of them together.”

  “My god, Bruce. You see him drive by here, park in her driveway, and go into her house. Hours later, you see him come out. You know he goes there every doggone day. You surely know there’s no logical explanation for what goes on over there other than the two of them are having an affair. Use your head.”

  Bruce shrugged. “I still think you should go see her, but you should keep your mouth shut about Bob. If she does know, she probably won’t want to talk about it. If she wants to talk, she’ll bring it up. And if she doesn’t know, you don’t want to be the one to tell her.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to be the one to open her eyes to the truth?”

  “Do you really want to crush her like that? If she doesn’t know, then she’s at home right now thinking everything’s fine. Do you want to be the one who tells her that everything’s not fine? That her husband is making a fool of her? That he’s spending all of his time with another woman? Can you stand to see the look on her face when she realizes her marriage is over? She’ll cry, Miriam. Then you will too,” Bruce said as he shifted uneasily in his chair, trying to find a position that eased his pain.

  Miriam sighed again. Though she acted tough on the outside with her snippy attitude, she was a softy on the inside. She’d break down at the first sign of a tear. Even at the sound of a voice cracking. “You’re right. I won’t say anything.”

  “But you will go see her?”

  “Yes. I’ll go see her. Lord knows she could use a friend.”

  “That’s right. Especially when she finds out what’s going on. She’ll need someone to talk to.”

  “I tell you, Bruce. I just don’t see how she got mixed up with the likes of him.” Miriam shook her head and fanned herself. She wiped some of the condensation off the glass of tea and wiped it on the back of her neck. “He’s no good.”

  “Well now, Miriam, we don’t know the whole story. Maybe he’s good to her. Other than the affair, that is. Or maybe he used to be a good guy. We just don’t know.”

  “Damn it, Bruce,” Miriam said sharply. “Why do you always defend everyone?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes you do. You always try to see the good in people. Sometimes there just isn’t any good to see.” With that, she stood and stormed into the house, frustrated that her husband always tried to be fair. Why did he always have to be so level-headed? Couldn’t he ever once just agree with her?

  She walked past her children, twins Suzy and Charlie, in a huff. They looked up at her from their game of Checkers but neither said a word.

  Miriam went into her bedroom. She grabbed her purse from the dresser and turned to leave, but as she turned she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Turning back, she took a good look at herself. She didn’t want to knock on Grace’s door looking the way she did.

  She ran her hands over her hair, damp with sweat and frizzy from the humidity, smoothing it the best she could. As she fought with the last few unruly strands, she realized it was useless to fight it. Her hair was going to look much worse than this when she arrived at the Greeley house because the wind was going to whip through the open windows of her Hudson Super Six along the way, creating a tangled mess atop her head.

  Forgetting about her hair, she glanced at her dress, a dark blue everyday dress with a swing skirt. It was the coolest dress she owned because it was made of the lightest fabric. Perfect for a day as hot as this one. Plus, the dark color helped hide any visible sweat spots.

  Figuring this was as good as she could look under such miserable conditions, she left the room.

  The children watched as Miriam came back through the house, mumb
ling under her breath. This time, with her purse on her shoulder.

  “Where are you going?” asked Charlie.

  Hot and frustrated, Miriam whirled around to spit out her answer, but stopped herself when she realized this was her six year-old son. Not her overly sensible husband. She had no reason to snap at him. She looked from Charlie to Suzy and back again, took a deep breath, and responded politely.

  “I’m going down the road to visit Grace Greeley. You children behave. Don’t give your father any trouble now, you hear? I’ll be back in a bit.”

  The children smiled and nodded.

  Miriam returned their smiles, then turned and stepped out of the house into the heat of the day.

  As Miriam emerged from the house, Bruce stood and limped over to her. Since he’d returned from serving his time overseas in the war, he was different. He was still the same person she’d loved and married, the same gentle being he always was, but he was different physically. And it wasn’t just because of his leg.

  He had come back to her a broken man, leg torn apart by enemy shrapnel. He was too thin, nearly skeletal when she first saw him. The mere sight of him had given her pause, made her wonder if this bag of bones before her was really her husband or some imposter. Over time, as Bruce began to heal and regain his weight, Miriam began to see him as he was before the war, before he was doomed to live a life racked by pain and nightmares. But there were so many times, times just like this one, when she looked at him and could see both sides. The before and the after. She could see him before the war, when he was strong and in his prime, and she could see him after, when he was fragile and delicate.

  She supposed it was the combination of the two, both the before and the after, that created what he was now. A man, tall and lean, handsome and kind, strong yet fragile. A man who would lay down his life for her or for their children if he ever needed to. She knew that with certainty because he’d nearly died for his country, for people he’d never met. She could only imagine what he would do for a loved one.

  Suddenly, her frustration toward him vanished. “How’s your leg?” she asked.

  “Same as always.”

  “Want me to stay?”

  “Why would I want you to stay?”

  “What if you need me?”

  “What would I need you for? I’m a grown man. Plus the kids are here.”

  “But your leg—”

  “My leg is the same as always. It doesn’t hurt any more than it usually does. Besides, I’m just going to sit here on the porch and finish my tea.”

  “Are you sure?” Miriam asked. She felt guilty any time she was away from Bruce. She always felt like she was abandoning him. If he needed her, she wouldn’t be there. After all he had given for his family, for his country, he didn’t deserve to suffer alone.

  “I’m positive. I’ll be fine.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  Bruce leaned in and kissed Miriam’s cheek. “Remember to not mention Bob. If she wants to talk about it, she’ll bring it up.”

  Miriam sighed. Feeling bad about snapping at him earlier, she said, “I just sometimes wish you weren’t always so level-headed and didn’t always try to see both sides equally.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I mean it. It’s infuriating.”

  “I know.”

  Miriam hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Take it easy with that leg today. You may need to use it tonight.” She ended the hug, pulling away and winking at her husband before walking down the steps of the porch and getting into the car.

  As she backed out of the driveway, she waved to Bruce, her gentle husband, the father of her twins, a veteran of World War II, and the greatest man she’d ever known.

  Chapter 3

  “Where are you going dressed like that?” Maude Wilson asked as her husband Ollie came down the stairs.

  “I promised Gerald I’d help him paint the church.”

  “Well do you have to go lookin’ like that?” Maude asked, pointing her stubby index finger at her husband’s pants.

  “What’s wrong with the way I look?” Ollie leaned over in order to see past his large belly and looked down at his pants. He saw nothing wrong.

  “There are holes in the knees of your britches,” Maude exclaimed. She wanted to mention that the pants were too short, that you could see far too much of his ankles, but she didn’t. It was more than difficult to find trousers that fit Ollie in the waist and the leg. It was a curse to have your waist wider than your leg was long.

  “That’s why they’re work pants, dear.”

  “But you’re the mayor. You can’t be seen out in public wearing torn britches.”

  “It’ll be fine. I’ll be working in them alongside the preacher. Keeping company like that, no one will mind a bit. Besides, who’s going to see us way out here?”

  After considering the matter for half a minute, Maude dismissed the subject and said, “Well let me make you a lunch to take with you.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Ollie said, hitching his pants up as he followed Maude into the kitchen. “Emma is supposed to make sandwiches for us later.”

  “Oh. Emma’s going to be there?”

  “Of course she is. She’s Gerald’s wife, and they live right across the road from the church. Where else would she be?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Maude turned to face Ollie. She balled up her fists and put them on her wide hips, feigning anger. “Maybe I could’ve helped. Or maybe I would’ve liked to make you all something to eat. If I’d known you were going to be working with Gerald today, Emma and I could’ve planned a shopping trip or a luncheon or something. I sure wish you’d have told me.”

  “I only promised to help him last night when he stopped by to ask me. You were out with your Bingo ladies, and I was in bed when you got home.” Ollie hitched his pants a little higher, until the large waistband was centered on his even larger waist.

  “Do you need a belt, Ollie?”

  “No, no. They’re fine now. So what are you going to do today?”

  Maude shrugged. “I figure I’ll go to the pharmacy.”

  Maude turned her back to Ollie and began wiping down the kitchen counter, knocking little pieces of toast crumbs from the morning’s breakfast into the sink.

  Behind her Ollie asked, “Are you picking up a prescription?”

  “No. I just want to sit in the air conditioning and stay cool.” More to herself than to Ollie, she said, “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Are you planning to have a Coke?”

  “No.”

  “A Root Beer Float maybe?” Ollie asked, smiling at the back of Maude’s head. He didn’t need to see her face to know the expression she wore. Her bright red lips were pursed, her eyes small. By now, her cheeks were probably turning pink. It was a look Ollie had seen many times over the years as he teased her about one thing or another.

  “No,” Maude answered quickly.

  “Ice cream, perhaps?”

  “No. I will not have any ice cream.”

  “Maude…”

  She whirled around to face Ollie, who stood with his hands in his pockets and a sly smile on his pudgy face. It was all he could do to keep from laughing.

  “All right, fine,” she said, throwing her arms out wide. “I might have an ice cream. Might. Are you happy now?”

  “I’m happy. I just thought you were on a diet.”

  With a wave of her hand, she said, “It’s too hot to be on a diet. Now don’t you worry about me. You just get yourself down to the church and get it painted and lookin’ good for tomorrow’s Sunday service.”

  Ollie smiled. He didn’t mind one bit that his wife weighed over three hundred pounds. How could he? He weighed that much himself, if not a little more. They were both big, and they always had been. But at least twice a year, Maude got it into her head that she was going to lose weight. She never lost a pound, and Ollie was fine with that. He loved every inch of her. He also loved t
easing her about sticking to those diets she put herself on.

  “Okay. I’m leaving. Maybe on your way to the pharmacy you can drop off Andrew at the church and he can help us. It wouldn’t hurt him to do a little work, and we could sure use the extra hands.” Ollie kissed Maude on the cheek. When he pulled away, he had to wipe the makeup residue off his lips. Ollie figured that if she was to ever take off all that makeup, she’d probably weigh a great deal less than three hundred pounds.

  “I don’t know. He wasn’t feeling well earlier this morning. He had a stomach ache, and I sent him back to bed, so we’ll see. If he’s better by the time I leave, I’ll drop him off. But don’t you work him too hard, now. He’s just a boy.”

  Ollie could’ve — and probably should’ve — told her that the boy was twelve years old. If he’d have been born just a couple of decades sooner, he’d almost be married off by now. He certainly would’ve had calluses on his hands from working, which was something Andrew had never even come close to experiencing.

  It often irked Ollie that Maude protected him so much, but he reminded himself that Andrew was her only child. He supposed it was normal for her to dote so much on her only son. Meanwhile, Ollie had the boy working every chance he got, trying to instill in him some sort of work ethic without Maude accusing him of treating their boy like a slave.

  “Try to keep him away from the snacks today. That’s probably why he doesn’t feel well.” Ollie didn’t add that too many snacks was also part of the reason their son was twice as heavy as the other twelve year-old kids. He didn’t have to. They both knew. They all knew. But Maude insisted that coming from parents who had ‘heavy genes’ as she called it was the reason he was big. Instead of arguing the point with her for the hundredth time, he just said, “Have a good day, dear.”

  “You too,” she called after him as he walked out the front door. She followed him as far as the porch, waving to him as he drove away in a cloud of dust.

  In the short amount of time she had spent standing on the porch watching her husband pull away, a line of sweat had popped out on her upper lip. Quickly, she turned and walked back into the house, where the electric fans circulated the air, making it a little cooler. She couldn’t wait until Ollie installed the air conditioning in their house, which he’d sworn he would have in place by the beginning of the next summer.