All Good Women (38 page)

‘All's I want is your happiness. Somehow I been worrying about you. You really like that other girl?'

Teddy smiled, looking for a deeper meaning in her mother's face. Since she got all her own powers from Mom, the woman must know what was going on. Teddy had told Moira that Mom said little things that indicated she knew they were lovers. Moira said Teddy was crazy, that Mrs Fielding was as conservative as her own mother. But Teddy knew Mom must remember that conversation about her math teacher.

‘Yes, we really do care for each other.' Teddy paused, waiting for a nod or smile, but her mother just sat watching. ‘We're happy.'

‘That's what counts.'

Teddy slipped the deed back
in the envelope and set it on the coffee table. She closed her eyes, listening to the clatter of dishes. Moira was slowing down; she could hear the radio again.

‘ … Forces, having crossed the Rhine …'

She wanted to turn the damn thing off. She wanted to shut off the war — the shooting and burning and deaths and shortages and rations. Port Chicago and Normandy. She stared at the radio, willing it to say Virgil was on Iwo Jima and he was safe. Odd the way you listened to the news with two ears — one ear on the world events, one ear for relatives and friends. Like listening to a baseball game in which your family is playing, not caring about the score so much as about the individual players.

Two weeks later Moira was
still fraught. She ran the vacuum in short, jerky movements, considering how every last thing was making her anxious. The union was driving her nuts; Tess was getting a cold; she, herself, was verging on the chronic bronchitis which always accosted her in the drear of winter. Despite all this, because of it, Teddy remained full of cheerful support. Ever since she had inherited the house, she acted as if there weren't an international problem she couldn't settle. She refused to accept rent payments for Tess and herself. Moira explained her fears of debt. Teddy kept insisting it was their house. Moira felt a funny claustrophobia about the idea of Teddy keeping them. She loved Teddy, yet didn't want to be beholden. She was so jittery that she even considered going to Los Angeles for a couple of weeks' holiday. LA? she asked herself again and again. Well, the sun would do her chest good. Daddy had never seen Tess. Still, Moira knew something was very wrong if she were considering Los Angeles.

At first she didn't hear the phone over the drone of the vacuum cleaner. Then, for a split second, she thought she heard Tess crying. She switched off the machine and registered the ring, ring, ring. Pausing to ensure everything was silent upstairs, she reached for the receiver.

‘Hello.'

‘Long time no hear.'

Moira was watching him dancing across the living room with Teddy … felt the warmth of his big hand on hers in the movie theatre … smelled the sweetness of his shaving cream.

‘Randy.' Her voice was stronger by the second syllable. ‘How are you?'

‘Fine, just fine, and you, Moi?'

How could he do that, call her Moi as if there were no distance between them? She sat down in the armchair and stared blankly across the room. The low afternoon sun played angular shadows on the ceiling.

‘Hey, Moi, you still there?'

‘Yes, Randy.' Her voice was warmer than she intended. ‘Yes, I'm fine.'

‘Well, I was wondering why I didn't hear from you.' He paused. ‘You got my letter?'

‘I got one letter. Last month.'

‘I'm no poet. But I did want you to know that you'd be seeing me home, almost all of me.'

‘Thanks,' she said, using her entire willpower to keep from asking about the wound.

‘Some greeting after those nights in the trenches I lay dreaming about you.'

The trenches, she recalled the trenches from when she was first pregnant with Tess, when she talked him to sleep. So he had heard her. No, no, she needed to get a grip on herself.

‘Maybe you'll warm up a little when you see me. When can we get together, Moira? How about I come over this afternoon?'

‘No, Randy, I don't think so.'

‘Tomorrow, then?'

What was the hurry. After all this time, he had to pop over right away? She reached down and pulled up her socks which were creeping around her ankles. Teddy was right; she shouldn't wear these socks with loafers.

‘I don't know, Randy.' She hated the warm feeling of his name. Her voice grew distant. ‘I'm going down to Los Angeles to see my parents.'

‘Wonders never cease.'

The bastard, playing on their old intimacy.

‘Anyway, I'll be gone for a few weeks. Maybe when I get back. Will you still be in the area?'

‘In the area! I live here. I didn't go to that Pacific swamp to set up a plantation or nothing. I was fighting a war. And now I'm back, grateful to be home, where I belong. With the people I care about.'

Her throat tightened. The baby began to cry upstairs. Or was this her imagination? She put her hand over the receiver, lest he hear Tess.

‘Listen, Randy, I have to go. Maybe we can talk when I get back.'

‘What the …'

‘No, please, I really must go.'

‘There's some other guy, that's it.'

‘No, Randy. I have to get off the phone. I'm glad that you're OK, that you're safe.'

‘Gee thanks.'

‘Good-bye, Randy.'

Tess was silent now. Moira sat with her head cocked, listening for her daughter. ‘Almost all of me …' She was angry at herself for caring. She listened for Tess again and, suddenly panic-stricken by Dorothy's story about crib death, she bounded upstairs.

From the doorway, she could hear Tess's quiet breathing. Moira tiptoed into the room. ‘OK, hon, you're OK?' she whispered. Tess breathed in and out, in and out. Moira looked at the mobile Teddy had bought last week: the blue and green monkeys danced restlessly through yellow hoops. Moira noticed the window was open a crack. Should she close it? How much fresh air did a child need? Would she get the bronchial condition Moira inherited from her own mother? ‘We're going to Los Angeles, Tess. How would you like that?' Moira watched her child, aware of a vague mutual protection. This baby was protecting her? Maybe Mother was right when she first heard about the pregnancy; maybe she was too immature to raise a child. ‘We'll be fine, just the two of us.'

When Teddy came into the
kitchen
that evening, Moira recounted some of the day's events — that she had decided to go to LA — no sense upsetting Teddy about Randy, when she, herself, wasn't sure how she was going to get him out of her hair. She knew she was risking her job by taking another sick leave. She also knew she could not stay here. She poured Teddy tea and talked about the warm Southern California beaches. She told herself again that the two weeks would give her time to make plans and give him time to cool off. It would save Teddy a fortnight of worry.

‘It's OK with you that I go, isn't it?'

‘Sure, it's your health.' Teddy watched her closely.

‘But more than that, I mean I have room to lead my own life?'

‘Room? Yeah, why not? Say, Moi,' she reached over for Moira's hand, ‘you OK?'

‘Of course I'm OK, why are you always watching over me like a mother bird? I have a little congestion. The sun will do us good.'

‘Us.' Teddy bit her lip knowing that she was not included in the ‘us'.

‘Sure,' Teddy said, ‘I was only worried about you.'

‘You're always only worried about me. Or about Tess. Why don't you worry about yourself for a change.'

‘Is there something to worry about?'

‘No. That's not what I mean …'

‘Worrying about you is worrying about myself.' Teddy paused. ‘I mean you are in my life.'

‘But we have separate lives too, don't we? I need to know I have a right to move, to breathe.'

‘Sure.' Teddy was baffled; however it didn't seem safe to press Moira.

‘It's just that we've been inseparable these last eight months. I need some time for myself.' No matter how hard she tried, Moira couldn't release the barrier. It would just get higher if she stayed in San Francisco.

Teddy sat erect, fear holding open her eyes. She gripped the edge of the kitchen table. Staring at her white knuckles, she spoke deliberately. ‘Whatever is best for you, that's what I want.'

Moira cleared her throat. ‘Do you think you could take us to the station tomorrow?'

Teddy returned from the station
exhausted. She boiled some water, poured it into the tea pot to steep and set the kitchen timer. Then she stepped into the garden. Not bad for a winter crop: the cabbage and leeks and potatoes poked through the ground at different stages of green.

She missed working with Ann. Teddy could still picture them planting, Moira's radio blaring from the kitchen and Angela chatting over the back fence. She should stop by the store and check with Rosa for news of Angela. Maybe she would even send a card saying there were no hard feelings. She would love to tell Angela about Moira, but Moira insisted on close secrecy. Teddy didn't see any harm in telling a few people, but Moira said Dawn, Sandra, Vivian and Dorothy were the only ones who could know. If word got out, someone might try to take the baby away from her. Teddy hadn't considered that; Moira was often more savvy about worldly things. Their love was strong, but pressures from outside pushed them too tightly together. The timer clicked.

She poured milk into a cup and then filled it with rich, brown liquid, reassured by the strong color. She should eat something. Of course this was why she was tired; she hadn't eaten breakfast after insisting Moira have a big meal. Gingersnaps and cheese should do it. Sitting down by the window, she stared out at the garden again. Maybe Ann would revive her interest in it. Or maybe she could invite Dawn over this summer. Dawn loved to work in the earth and she had no chance in that tiny apartment. Sure, that was it, why was she always thinking of herself? She would have a lot to consider these next two weeks — trying to understand how she had driven Moira away — was it that or did she really just need a rest? — and how they might live together more happily.

Teddy was revived by the tea. Yes, this would be a good time for her, a chance to catch up on house chores, an opportunity to spend more time with Mr Rose and maybe visit Mrs Rose again. She might take off next weekend and go to Martinez to visit Sandra.

Teddy didn't hear the bell until it had rung two or three times. She rose slowly, reluctant to disturb her meditation. Here she was alone in the house for forty-five minutes and becoming a grumpy hermit already. Who could it be? Almost everybody they knew phoned first because of the baby. But Jolene did say she was going to be downtown shopping today.

Through the front window, Teddy could see a man's figure shuffling back and forth. She couldn't tell who he was, bundled up as he was in a heavy sweater, his face to the side of the house. Someone collecting for the Red Cross or one of those religious folks? Teddy felt a sudden panic, remembering Ann's story about a strange man barging into her room. You couldn't be too careful nowadays. Funny how Teddy never thought twice about danger when Moira was here — and it wasn't as if Moira were going to protect her — but now she was nervous about opening her own front door. Quietly she approached the window, trying to determine the man's identity. Then suddenly, he turned and stared her full in the face.

Randy Girard. Why, of course, why hadn't she thought about him. The hair was as yellow as ever and his cocky stance hadn't changed. Teddy stood still, staring, until Randy knocked on the window and waved.

She was glad Moira was away. It would be easier for her to hear about Randy's return from her. And by then, who knows, he might be gone again. He didn't look wounded or anything, so he was likely to leave on his ship in a short time. Please God, he would be gone by the time Moira returned. Now possessed by her reflexive hospitality, she moved directly to the door and welcomed her visitor.

‘Hi, Teddy, how've you been?' He extended his hand.

‘Fine, fine thank you, Randy, won't you come in?'

‘Thanks.'

He wiped his shoes on the mat, a discipline he must have picked up in the service. She noticed his hair was trimmed more than usual. Usual? She hadn't seen him in ages.

Randy surveyed the living room with satisfaction and Teddy grew more defensive. She did not want this man in her house. As much as she reasoned that it didn't matter since Moira was on the train, as much as she lectured herself to be hospitable, she felt jumpy, as if the place had been invaded by ants.

‘Well, aren't you going to ask me to sit down?'

Teddy noticed that he was much more nervous than she was. ‘Yes, of course, how about some tea?'

‘Is Moira home?'

‘She's away a while. She left this morning.'

‘Oh.' Randy looked down at his shoes. Teddy considered how odd he looked in these shiny regulation shoes and wondered whether he missed the fancy spats and bucks. ‘Yes, I guess I wouldn't mind tea. With milk and two sugars.'

‘I remember,' Teddy called over her shoulder, wondering at her sudden friendliness. In a perverse way, she thought, she had a special bond with Randy — she had always wanted to talk with someone who had experienced the full force of Moira's temper — and she was whistling as she served the tea.

Randy sat hunched on the elephant, his hands between his knees. She set his cup on the side table and he nodded thanks.

‘When did you get back?' she asked, noticing for the first time how much older he looked, as if his face had been laid out to dry in the sun. It was as dark as a walnut and almost as shriveled in places, especially around the eyes. She had seen this happen to other men and she wondered how Virgil would survive the Pacific.