Authors: Florence Osmund
Daughters (44 page)
“Last weekend,” Karen said.
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but you had so much going on with…well, everything, and we did it kind of on the spur of the moment…and, well, I’m…”
“That’s okay. I’m just so excited.” Marie gave Karen another hug and whispered, “I’m so happy for you.”
“I’ll explain later,” she whispered back.
They spent the rest of the evening talking about Karen and Maurice’s announcement. Certain there was much more to the story than what they were telling, Marie was anxious to talk further with Karen.
Barry was the last to leave. Marie walked him down to his car.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
“A confession?”
“I called Karen the other day and asked her if you were involved with anyone.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “Do you remember when we first met and I asked you out? You told me you were married.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Was that true?”
“It was then.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“A little over a year.”
He gazed into her eyes and smiled a curl of a smile. “Would you like to talk about it over dinner sometime?”
“Not without confessing something first myself.”
He leaned up against his car beside her and folded his arms across his chest. “Okay. Shoot.”
“And after I tell you this, if you want to change your mind about dinner, I’ll understand.”
“I’m listening.”
“My father is a Negro. Therefore I am a Negro. My ex-husband is mixed up with the Chicago mob and has wanted to get back with me ever since I left him in May of ‘48. And the reason I haven’t adopted Rachael is because her mother is in prison for killing the man Rachael thought was her father, but really wasn’t.” She looked him straight in the eye to get his reaction, but Barry didn’t flinch.
“I have a twin brother who still lives at home and thinks he’s Henry VIII—on a good day. I have just three toes on my right foot due to frostbite after I got cockeyed drunk on cheap Puerto Rican rum when I was nineteen and then passed out in the snow. I was madly in love with my fifth grade teacher, Miss Crandon, but other than that, I have never been in a relationship longer than three months.
And
I played a role in Olivia’s father’s death.” He paused. “How’s Saturday?”
“Pick me up at seven?”
“See you then.”
“Okay, my dear friend, tell me everything,” Marie said to Karen the next day.
“Can you come over?” Karen asked.
“Where? Your house or Maurice’s?”
“Maurice’s. I’m all moved out of mine. I just put it on the market this morning.”
“I’ll bring the wine.”
Karen and Maurice sat on their living room sofa. Marie sat across from them. “We’re expecting,” Karen said.
“What?! I don’t believe it! When?”
“The middle of April.”
Marie got up from her chair. “Come here, you.” They hugged, and when they separated, Marie patted Karen’s stomach. “So you’re…let’s see, five months?”
Karen nodded. “Seems hard to believe, doesn’t it?”
“How long have you known?”
“The week before we got married. Actually, just a few days before.”
Marie studied Karen’s face, then Maurice’s. “You two look so happy.”
“We are,” they said in unison.
“Does your daughter know yet?” Marie asked Maurice.
“I told her last night. She has mixed feelings about it right now. I hope she’ll come around.”
“How about your ex?”
“Oh, I can pretty much guess what she’s saying about it. One kid in college, one I support but don’t see, and another one on the way.” He shook his head. “But she can say or think anything she wants. I’m happy.” He turned toward Karen and kissed her on the cheek.
“Oh my God, Karen. You’re going to have a baby!”
“I know.”
“So do you think it will be a boy or a girl?”
“Who knows?”
“Do you have any names picked out?”
“Clyde Edward if it’s a boy, and if it’s a girl…” Karen’s eyes welled up. “Anna Marie.”
“That is so sweet. Can I tell Rachael and Olivia?”
“Sure. It’s not a secret anymore.”
“Why isn’t he here yet?” Rachael asked.
“Because it’s only 6:55.”
“He’s sure cutting it close.”
Marie observed herself in the hall mirror for the umpteenth time. “It isn’t a matter of life or death if he’s a few minutes late.”
“I thought you told me it’s important to always be on time.”
“It is, but…”
“Maybe he’s going to stand you up,” Rachael suggested.
“What makes you think that?”
“Are you nervous about going out with him?”
“Well, I wasn’t until this conversation.”
Rachael ran to the window. “He’s here! Olivia, come out here.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry. Just leave everything to me.”
What is she up to?
Marie went down to let Barry in. She had put on a navy blue striped knit top with coordinating skirt and heels. She hoped he wouldn’t show up in jeans, which was what he typically wore in his gun shop. When he arrived, she smiled, relieved to see dark dress slacks beneath his wool trench coat.
“Hi. Please come in.”
Rachael and Olivia were sitting next to each other on the sofa, hands clasped in their laps and smiles of their faces.
“Good evening, Mr. Stone. And how are you this lovely day?” Rachael asked in her rendition of a sophisticated tone and manner.
“Why, I’m fine, Miss Rachael, just fine. And you?”
“Oh, we’re fine too. Aren’t we, Olivia?”
Olivia looked up at Rachael and shrugged. Rachael nudged her with her elbow.
“Uh…nice water we’re having.”
Marie looked at Barry and shook her head and then went to the closet for her coat, which he took and held out for her to put on.
“Okay, my little wisenheimers, we won’t be late.” She turned to Rachael. “She’s to be in bed by eight.”
Rachael saluted. “Yes, Sergeant. But I’ll be up when you get back, so…”
“That will be enough, young lady.”
Rachael smiled. “Later, gator.”
Barry opened the car door for her. “What was that all about?” he asked.
Marie waited until he got behind the wheel of his car before responding. “Apparently Rachael thought it was necessary to give you a good impression on our first date.”
Barry smiled. “Too late. I already had that three years ago.”
She blushed, grateful for the dimly lit driveway as Barry turned the car around and headed toward the street.
He took her to DaVinci’s, a new Italian restaurant that had recently opened in Leavenworth. Marie’s pulse quickened when he parked the car—three doors down from Paul’s antique shop. Determined not to let anything or anyone ruin this date, she walked toward the restaurant, her arm linked in his, her head held high.
Like many of the businesses in this section of town, DaVinci’s had once been a Victorian home. Barry asked for a table in one of the smaller dining rooms. She smiled to herself when he pulled the chair out for her—memories of Richard’s good side.
I’m not going to do that this time
—
compare him to Richard.
It was different talking to Barry like this, sitting directly across from him for an extended period of time. Up until then, her encounters with him had been under very different circumstances. They’d first met when she had decided to buy a gun for protection. She had been very nervous that day and couldn’t even look him in the eye for very long. Then, when he taught her how to shoot, he had been by her side, standing slightly behind her. And the unnerving time when Olivia had been abandoned at his shop, she hadn’t paid much attention to his personal side. This was nice. She asked about his family.
“Well, I told you a little about my twin.”
“What’s his name?”
“Henry.”
Marie laughed. “I mean what’s his
real
name?”
“Henry
is
his real name. We’re not sure where everything went wrong with him. My parents have had him evaluated by more than one doctor. They call it a delusional disorder. He’s very smart, much smarter than I, but he can’t hold a job because at any given time he could start acting like Henry VIII, or sometimes someone even worse.”
Marie couldn’t even imagine what he was describing. “What does he do? When he thinks he’s Henry VIII, that is.”
“He can fly into a rage at the drop of a hat, and he’ll complain about his wives, all six of them, and threaten to kill them. When he’s feeling particularly sorry for himself, he’ll walk with a limp, like the real king did.”
“Oh my.”
“But my parents handle it very well. They just go along with it, knowing he’s completely harmless and eventually will snap out of that character and be Hank again.”
“How did you end up in the gun shop business?”
“I’ve had a fascination with guns my whole life. My father and uncle own a saddle shop down the road, and when I turned eighteen, Dad bought the gun shop from a cohort of his who was moving out of state, and we ran it together until he trusted me enough to run it myself.”
“Your face lit up when you talked about your father.”
He smiled. “They don’t come any better.”
Barry asked Marie about her background, which she freely revealed.
“Hmm. College-educated,” Barry said. “I was lucky to make it through high school. Didn’t like being in school much. Now Hank, he’s another story. He has a degree in mathematics. He’s a genius in that area.”
“School isn’t the only place to get an education. It looks to me like you’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
“I suppose so. I don’t owe anything on the shop. My dad and I own it together, and I had to pull my half just like him.”
“I’m impressed, Mr. Stone.”
They shared a fruit and custard tart for dessert, Barry’s favorite. After they left, instead of driving straight back to Marie’s apartment, Barry turned down a winding road that led to the river. He parked the car a few feet from the water. The moon was full, casting enough light for them to clearly see each other. The early winter air was brisk, so he left the car running and the heater on while they talked.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought maybe we could have a few minutes alone at the end of our date before I take you home.”
Marie laughed. “No, I know what you mean. There’s very little privacy in my house these days.”
His stare was soft. “You’re a very attractive woman.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d like to see you again.”
She turned toward him. His blue eyes were shining even in the dim light. “I’d like that.”
“Can I kiss you?”
She hesitated a few seconds, then smiled and leaned in for the kiss. His lips were soft and sensual, and the kiss lingered on Marie’s lips for several seconds.
He turned forward and put his hand on the gear shift, staring out at the water for a moment.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Then he put the car in gear and drove to Marie’s apartment.
He kissed her again before saying good night and then left with a slow smile on his lips.
“Well, it’s about time,” Rachael said when Marie arrived home from her date with Barry.
