Caught Red-Handed (5 page)

She paused and took a sip of wine.

“She was staying with me then; she had rented her place out to a group of women who worked at a war plant. One rainy night, after we closed up the store, Chloe told me she was going to stop by our little church on the way home. It was the winter of 1944. Jonathan had been wounded and was being sent back home. Chloe had been worried about Jonathan; said she hadn't been able to sleep much, and wanted to pray for his safe return. Billy cried when she tried to get him to leave with me when we reached the steps of the church, so she took him with her. I still remember them standing under their umbrella on the steps, giving me a little wave.”

She stopped again, her eyes filling with tears.

“Please, I didn't know this would be so painful for you,” Leila said. “Perhaps you'd rather tell me another time.”

“No, no, I'll be all right. All of this happened almost fifty years ago. You'd think I'd be able to talk about it.”

“Time might heal our wounds, but that doesn't mean we forget how much they hurt in the first place.”

Alice smiled. “Something tells me you know something about being wounded, Leila. Well, you may be right. Still, I owe you an explanation for my brother's odd behavior.

“So, on that night, I went home alone in the rain. It had been raining hard for a couple of days. I waited, but they didn't come back. Finally, I put on my raingear and walked back to the church. There were firemen and emergency vehicles blocking the street. The roof on the church had collapsed. It had been a flat roof. The scuppers on the drains from the roof had been plugged by leaves, and the water built up on it until it just gave way. Chloe and Billy were killed.”

“I'm sorry.”

Alice shook her head. “I identified their bodies. They took them away. I sat there, next to the place they had been killed, unable to move, getting drenched by rain. I kept wondering how I could possibly tell Jonathan about what had happened. A policeman tried to get me to go home. I saw one of Chloe's boots; I guess it had come off of her when they pulled her body out. I picked it up, and a piece of stained glass that lay next to it. Don't ask me why. I didn't know then, and I don't know now. The policeman walked me home. On the porch step, he handed me Jonathan's pocket watch and little bag of marbles. Billy had been carrying them.”

After a moment, Leila said, “And Jonathan? What became of him?”

“He was devastated, of course. I worried for a while that I would lose him, too. He wasn't quite recovered when he returned, and with Chloe and Billy gone, he just didn't seem to have the will to live. He pulled through, though. The war workers who lived here were laid off and moved on, and he moved back into the house. He went back to the store and went on with his life. He began to talk to me more about Chloe and his son, seemed able to cherish their memory instead of being beaten down by it.”

“You said Chloe was his first wife. Did he marry again?”

“Yes. Not right away, mind you. About fifteen years later, he met another woman. Monica.”

She said the name with obvious distaste.

“You didn't like her.”

“Not in the least. She was an Amazon of a woman, and bossy to boot. But Jonathan was lonely, and had been for years. And I think she appealed to him on some—hmm,
basic
level, we'll say. He was turning forty, and she made him feel, well, virile.

“Just before Jonathan and Monica were married, Jonathan told me that he was going to hide all of his reminders of Chloe and Billy from his new wife. He said Monica was insanely jealous of their memory, which he couldn't understand.”

“Can you?”

“Of course. Monica could see for herself that Jonathan's heart still belonged to his first wife. How could she compete with a memory?”

“But Jonathan was aware of her jealousy?”

“Yes, even Jonathan could see that. He told me she had destroyed his favorite photo of Chloe. He decided he wanted to keep his reminders where Monica couldn't harm them. Now, thirty years later, you've found the place where he hid them. Where were they?”

“Beneath the loveseat.”

Alice looked back to the corner of the garden where the loveseat had been. “I should have guessed. You've had the pieces taken away?”

“Yes, I'm sorry if it was special to you in some way.”

“No, not to me. But it was to Jonathan. He used to sit there with Chloe. An extravagance for newlyweds, but the house had come to him furnished by my uncle, so that loveseat helped them to make the place their own. In much the way you have, with this garden. Jonathan would have loved this garden.”

“How was the loveseat broken?”

Alice laughed. “That was the time Monica went too far. They weren't married for more than a year or two when they started having problems. She'd throw tantrums, and he just withdrew more and more from her. He'd come out to the garden.

“One day, Jonathan was sitting on the loveseat, doubtless remembering happier times. Monica came striding across the yard, carrying a sledgehammer.”

“What?”

“Yes, a big old sledgehammer. She lifted it up over her head and brought it down with all her might. Jonathan barely got out of the way in time. Busted the loveseat in half.”

“Was she trying to kill him?”

“Jonathan told me he didn't believe she meant to harm him, but I don't think he was certain of that. In any case, they separated, and she went off to live with a sister in some other state. He divorced her. He was disappointed, but he didn't seem overly bitter. Said that maybe he'd caused it by hanging on to his memories of Chloe. He lived here by himself until he died, about a year ago now. I miss him.”

Alice looked away for a moment, then turned back to Leila.

“In the last ten years he was pretty much crippled up by arthritis, and he couldn't take care of this yard. You've made it beautiful again, you've brought it back to life. As I've said, it would make Jonathan proud.”

“Thank you. It sounds strange, but I'm sorry I didn't get to know him.”

“You would have liked him. I think he would be quite happy that you are the one who came to live here. I think Chloe and Billy would be, too.”

They chatted for a while, and then Leila brought out a small box and loaded Jonathan's mementos into it.

“After all your hard work, you should keep something for yourself,” Alice said. “I know they're rather silly little treasures, but are you sure there's nothing here you'd like to have?”

“They aren't so silly after all, are they? And they've been buried together for all these years. I wouldn't want to separate them.”

“So, you
are
sentimental after all.” Alice smiled. “Don't look so surprised, Leila. When you bought this old house, I wondered about you. You seemed so business-like, so self-possessed, so emotionless. But why, I asked myself, would such a modern person want such an old house? I don't know who made you believe that feelings don't matter, but they were very wrong.”

Leila looked out across the yard. “You know, Alice, until I moved here and worked on this garden, I don't think I would have been able to understand that.” And before she knew it, Leila had told Alice the story of Sam and Marietta.

Alice listened patiently. “This Marietta sounds a lot like Monica. A perfectly dreadful girl. But I'm not sure Sam has forgotten you any more than Jonathan forgot Chloe. I think Sam just needs to wake up and realize that you're a person with feelings. It sounds as if you've been more like a mother, or perhaps another male friend, than a partner to him. The next time you see him, don't be afraid to let him know you have feelings. And if he can't respond to them, find a man who can.”

Leila laughed and thanked her.

Alice gave her a hug, and carrying the box of treasures, took her leave.

Leila made a big bowl of soup for dinner, went to bed and slept soundly.

The next day was a work day
. She noticed that for some reason, men in the office were paying attention to her. She wondered if they had paid attention before, without her being aware of it, or if something about her had changed.

Later that evening, in line at the grocery store, a good-looking man stood just ahead of her. He smiled at her. When she smiled back, he spoke to her, laughing with her about an article featured on the cover of a tabloid. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“Leila?”

She turned to see Sam and Marietta at the next checkout stand. She waved, and turned back to talk to the man who had been flirting with her. “Friend of yours?” he asked.

“Former boyfriend,” she whispered, as the checker handed the man his change.

The man looked back at Sam and Marietta and shook his head. “He's crazy,” he whispered back, and to her shock, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Goodbye, Leila,” he said loudly, “Don't forget our date!” He winked and smiled as he walked out with his groceries.

Leila blushed deeply, but then smiled to herself. The checker had to announce the amount she owed twice before Leila returned her attention to matters at hand. As she pushed her cart from the store, Sam came up beside her.

“Who was that?” he demanded.

“Who?”

“The man with whom you just made a spectacle of yourself. The one who kissed you in the store. Or are there so many men kissing you in public that it is no longer a memorable experience?”

“Really, Sam, I don't think it's any of your concern.”

Before he could answer, they heard Marietta from behind them. “Sam!” she wailed as she tried to catch up to them with her own cart. “Sam, get over here and help me.”

“Your master's voice,” Leila said, and started to load her groceries into her car.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he said angrily.

“Leila, is this fellow bothering you?”

She turned to see the man from the store. He had pulled up next to them and rolled down his window.

Sam looked so dismayed, it was all she could do not to laugh out loud. “No, he's an old friend,” she said to the man. “He was just going back to his car to help his girlfriend.”

They all turned to see Marietta stomp her foot in impatience.

“Girlfriend?” the man said. “I only see his daughter.”

“Oh, no,” Leila said, unable to stop the laugh. “That's his girlfriend.”

“Now see here—” Sam began, but fell silent as the man opened his car door and stood next to it. He was at least six inches taller than Sam.

He extended a hand. “David Kerr,” he said amiably.

Sam shook the hand awkwardly. “Sam Barrington,” he mumbled. To Leila, he said, “I'll call you later,” and excused himself.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Leila said to David, when Sam had left.

“A pleasure. As your knight in shining armor, do I deserve to know your last name, Leila?”

“Leila Anderson,” she said. “It was going to be Leila Barrington before that sweet young thing happened along.”

“You're hopelessly stuck on him, aren't you?” he asked.

“I'm afraid so.”

“Well, we're two peas in a pod. My ex-wife shops here with a fellow I call ‘Junior' on Tuesdays. If you want to return the favor, I'll meet you here tomorrow night at six.”

Leila laughed and agreed to see him there the next evening. She said goodnight and whistled as she drove home.

On Thursday night, Leila invited
Alice Grayson to dinner. They giggled like schoolgirls over Leila's recounting of the last three days. Tuesday night, David's ex-wife had ignored the young man she was dating, nearly pushed Leila aside and said flat out that she missed David and would like to see him for dinner sometime soon.

David had thanked Leila, and they promised to keep one another posted on their progress.

On Wednesday, Sam had stopped by her office to ask her to go to lunch, an unprecedented event.

“I'm worried about you, Leila,” he had said.

“Why?”

“How well do you know this David Kerr?”

“Not well at all.”

“That's what I mean! And you kissed him in the store!”

“I believe he kissed me.”

“You're mincing words and you know it. Okay, so you were kissed, but you allowed it. Right in front of everybody! That's so unlike you!”

“Maybe I've changed, Sam.”

He sulked in silence for a moment, then said, “I'm not sure I like the change. I liked you the way you were before.”

“You dumped me the way I was before.”

“Leila! That's an unkind way of putting things.”

“It was an unkind way of doing things.”

He had the good grace to look guilty, but said nothing.

“It's true, Sam. You all but said I was passionless. And I can see why you thought so. It's my fault, really. I hope Marietta gives you all the passion you can bear.”

“There's more to life than passion.”

“Really? Such as what?”

“Stability, reliability, companionship.”

“Don't forget faithfulness.”

He turned red and looked away. After a moment he said quietly, “I really hurt you, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, Sam. Thanks to you, I have a whole new life.”

“With David?”

“No, probably not with David.”

He seemed about to say something, but he hesitated. She decided not to wait for him to make up his mind to tell her what it was. “I'd better get back to work, Sam.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he answered distractedly.

As they stood outside the door to her office building, he suddenly hugged her, nearly throwing her off balance. “Listen, I'm really quite fond of you, Leila. We are friends, aren't we?”

“Of course,” she said, freeing herself from his embrace. “Goodbye, Sam.”