Sleepless Nights (The Donovans of the Delta) (19 page)

Claude’s office was in an old brick building, painted white. THE DAILY BUGLE was lettered on the north side of the building.

“This is it, Amanda.” Tanner parked his car in a vacant spot and turned to face her. “Nervous?”

“Yes.” She sat very straight, hands pressed together in her lap. “We had an easy divorce. Both of us knew it was time to end the marriage. But seeing him again is going to be hard.”

Tanner reached over and squeezed her hands. “For me too. The last time I saw Claude, I was trying to steal you away from him at the altar. I wouldn’t blame him if he took a punch at me.”

They sat for a few minutes, both dreading the confrontation and postponing it as long as possible.

“It’s late,” Amanda said. “Maybe he’s not there.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Tanner got out of the car and opened her door. Together they walked into the office.

Claude was alone, sitting at his desk, newspaper copy spread out in front of him. He looked up when the bell above his door tinkled. The silence was so thick, it could have been spread on toast and eaten for breakfast.

Tanner and Amanda stood inside the door, and Claude sat riveted to his chair. If thoughts had been birds, the air would have been heavy with the flapping of wings. Amanda thought Claude had aged. Tanner marveled that he felt no sudden surge of anger toward Claude, just a sad sort of ache for the things they’d lost—the easy camaraderie, the crazy jokes that nobody else thought were funny, the laughter.

The silence became embarrassing. Finally Amanda spoke.

“I received your Christmas card, Claude.”

“Good. I meant what I said.”

Amanda felt Tanner’s body tense. She slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed.

Claude took off his glasses and polished the lenses with his handkerchief, a habit that signaled his unease. Tanner and Amanda watched him silently, remembering the many times they’d seen him do exactly the same thing.

Finally Claude put the glasses firmly back on his nose. “I’ve always loved you, Amanda,” he said simply.

“Amanda is going to marry
me
, Claude.” Tanner hadn’t meant to blurt out the news like that, but he was going crazy being in the same room with Claude, knowing he’d once held Amanda and made love to her and kissed all her secret places. The rage he’d held in check suddenly surfaced. Visions of the two of them together clouded his judgment. He balled his fists and took a step toward Claude.

To his astonishment Claude burst out laughing. “Thank God for that. I’ve always known the two of you belonged together.”

Tanner’s rage ebbed, but his nerves were still raw from lack of sleep. “Then why in the hell did you send that card and sign it ‘love’?”

“I’m a sentimental fool. I just wanted Amanda to know that there are no hard feelings.” He stood up and came to her. When he was close enough, he reached for her hand. “The six years we had together were like a gift, Amanda, one I never expected to receive, and one I never fully appreciated. You’ve always belonged to Tanner. Deep down I knew that, even when we were married.”

“I’m sorry, Claude—for everything. For coming between you and Tanner, for the divorce—”

His laughter interrupted her. “Don’t say another word. The next thing I know, you’ll be saying you’re sorry for the marriage—one that nearly didn’t take place, thanks to you.” He turned to Tanner. “That was a helluva stunt you pulled in the church.”

“It was the high point of my career.” Tanner was almost relaxed enough to grin but not quite. He couldn’t figure out why Claude was so amiable, and he didn’t trust his old friend’s willingness to give up Amanda now that he had seen her again. The man had to be crazy, Tanner decided.

“Maybe I should pay you back. When is the wedding?”

It was a sticky question. Tanner didn’t want Claude at his wedding. He wanted to start his marriage with a clean slate, no reminders of the past.

“We haven’t set the date,” Amanda said, noting the look of thanks in Tanner’s eyes.

Claude clapped Tanner on the shoulder. “That doesn’t sound like you. I’d have thought you’d have her kidnapped by now.”

“I guess I’ve mellowed with old age.”

“Could be.” Claude rubbed his hand through his sparse hair. “We’ve all changed a bit.” He grinned. “Not that I have any reason to complain.”

This meeting wasn’t at all what Tanner had expected. He’d anticipated bitterness and hostility, and he still couldn’t trust the joviality Claude exhibited. He could understand artificial cheerfulness as a front to cover hurt, but somehow Claude’s feelings seemed genuine.

“You’re looking good, Claude. How’s the newspaper?” Small talk, Tanner thought, the great conversation rescuer.

“Doing great. Remember that new section you wanted to add, Amanda? The family-life section?”

“I remember you were opposed to the idea.”

“But you finally convinced me. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Did it increase circulation?” Amanda didn’t have her mind on circulation; she was wondering why Claude seemed so relaxed and cheerful.

“It did more than that. But I’d prefer to show you than tell you. You know my flair for the dramatic. I guess that’s why I didn’t write a note on the Christmas card. Have dinner with me tonight. Our—my house.”

The correction stung Tanner. Claude had meant the house he’d shared with Amanda. Tanner would rather walk on a bed of nails than see the inside of that house.

Amanda sensed his reluctance and understood. She quickly intervened and made arrangements for them to meet Claude at a restaurant. There were still things that needed to be said. She and Tanner had come too far to leave without finishing what they’d started.

The two hours they spent in the motel, waiting for the appointed dinner hour, seemed like forever. Amanda fiddled with the radio until she found some decent music, then, in pretended gaiety, danced around the small room. After bouncing into Tanner four times he finally complained that he wasn’t going to have any feet left, and she quit. Tanner, of course, resorted to his bad football jokes. Amanda squelched her screams of agony.

Neither of them mentioned what had happened at the newspaper office. It had gone too easily. They didn’t dare voice their separate skepticism, for fear they’d put a jinx on the trip.

Finally it was time to meet Claude. He was waiting for them outside the restaurant. He looked as cheerful as before.

“I don’t understand Claude anymore. You’d think a man who’d lost the most desirable woman in the whole world would be doing something besides standing on the sidewalk smiling like a jackass eating saw briers.” Uncertainty had made Tanner testy. He whipped his car into a space that appeared too small. He hated situations he didn’t understand, and he’d be damned if he could figure Claude out.

“Be charitable, Tanner. I think he looks a little tired, like he’s working too hard.”

Amanda’s wifely comment about Claude grated on Tanner’s nerves. For a moment he considered backing out of the parking space and heading back to Greenville as fast as he could. But he didn’t—he got out and opened Amanda’s door. When she reached up and put her hand in his, he melted inside. They’d survive, he decided. This trip had to be the supreme test. They were seeing each other at their worst, and it hadn’t lessened his love for Amanda one iota. He hoped she felt the same about him.

He put his arms around her waist and smiled.

“Let’s go see what your ex-husband has to show us.”

Claude greeted them and took them inside the restaurant to their table, all the while making small talk. He asked about their parents, Tanner’s brothers and sisters, and Maxine. He inquired about changes in their hometown. He was maddeningly calm, and whatever he had to show them apparently would wait. There was no mention of why they were sitting at a table for eight. There was no sign of the dramatic surprise he’d hinted at earlier. But they noticed that from time to time he looked down at his watch.

Claude ordered drinks. Tanner experienced a sense of déjà vu. When they were a threesome in the old days, Claude had been the one to place the orders. Usually he and Amanda were too engrossed in each other to pay attention to mundane things such as food and drink.

As they sipped their drinks a little boy raced through the restaurant and came to a stop beside Claude’s chair. He wore red long johns, overalls with no shirt, and enough freckles to decorate at least three more boys.

“Hey, Claude. We got here late because Mama had to keep fixin’ her face, but don’t tell her I said so.” His red cowlick bounced up and down, and his brown eyes sparkled with devilment as he scooted into a chair.

Claude beamed. “Tanner and Amanda, I’d like you to meet John.”

That was all he said, simply “John.” Tanner and Amanda were mystified and speechless. But that didn’t matter, for John talked a mile a minute. Leaning close to Claude, he said in a conspiratorial manner that could be heard three tables away, “They’re slow as molasses. Betcha ol’ Mary Lou had to stop at the ladies’ room and pull up her petticoat. It’s always showin’. And Mama was scared her lipstick would be crooked. And Petey always wets his pants when he gets excited. ‘Course, I never do. Seven’s too old to wet your britches.”

Abruptly he turned to Amanda and grinned. “Say! You sure are pretty. You used to be Claude’s wife, didn’t you? That’s what Mama said. She’s been in a fizzle all day ‘cause you was back in town.” He stopped talking long enough to hitch up his overalls and prop his elbows on the table. “Say, Claude. I sure am hungry.”

John didn’t wait for a reply, and that was fine, since nobody could get a word in edgewise, anyway. “Look. There’s Mama now.” He jumped up and waved. “Hey, Mama. We’re over here.”

“Mama” stood in the doorway hesitantly, holding the hand of a rather damp-looking little boy who no doubt was Petey. Beside her stood a young girl, pudgy and sullen, looking as if she were entering the restaurant and puberty with equal defiance.

Claude went to the woman and led her, almost reverently, back to their table. “Helen, these are the friends I told you about.” Standing with his arm around her, he turned to Amanda and Tanner. “I’d like you to meet Helen Burnaw, the woman I’m going to marry.”

Tanner was astounded. The woman was at least six years older than Claude, maybe more. She was about as different from Amanda as a woman could be. Claude always had been softhearted. Tanner’s first guess would have been that she was a widow, and Claude had taken the family under his wing. Or perhaps she was a friend from church or from his neighborhood.

He could sense Amanda’s astonishment. Both of them spoke at the same time, uttering the usual polite greeting one gives to strangers. Then a remarkable thing happened. Helen Burnaw smiled. Tanner was flabbergasted at the transformation. The woman, who was so insignificant-looking she nearly blended into the furniture, became radiant, almost beautiful. And her voice! Hearing it was to be enchanted. It was low-pitched, breathless, and sexy. Tanner felt a surge of gladness for Claude—and a selfish sense of relief for himself.

“And this is Mary Lou and little Petey.” Claude finished the introductions as he helped Helen and her children to their seats. “Helen moved to Fulton two years ago. Her husband died. She came to work for me—handling the family-living section, Amanda.” He grinned proudly, as if the rest was self-explanatory.

“Congratulations Claude—and Helen.” Amanda felt as if she’d gone to the movie theater expecting to see a tragedy and ended up seeing a comedy. She thought of the sleepless nights she’d spent and of her ragged nerves, and she wanted to burst into laughter. Her mother always had told her worry was a foolish emotion. She wished she’d paid more attention.

Talk among the adults was stilted and awkward at first—and possible only because John was too busy eating to interrupt. Then, when three-year-old Petey crawled under the table and squashed French fries on Tanner’s shoes, they all loosened up. Tanner, who was accustomed to children, viewed the episode with kind indulgence. Besides, it gave him a chance to tell some of his favorite stories about Paul and Martie’s twins.

The meal gradually drew to a close. Tanner and Amanda felt sad at its end. All of them knew that they’d passed another milestone in their relationship. They’d come full circle, from three people who were bound together by circumstances, to best friends, to enemies, and back to three people with a common bond. Amanda, who had loved them both, was the pivot. Her marriage to Claude couldn’t be stricken from the books and forgotten. It would always be a part of her past. But now she could look at it as a pleasant interlude, rather than as a wall that separated her from Tanner. Knowing that Claude had let her go emotionally, freed them to love totally. Whatever angry passion had haunted the three of them could be forgiven.

Claude asked Helen to wait while he followed Tanner and Amanda to their car. On the street he shook Tanner’s hand. “I’m really glad that you and Amanda are going to be married. It makes everything right. What happened can’t be changed, but perhaps we’re all the wiser for the experience.” Turning to Amanda, he hugged her. “Be happy, sweetheart.”

“You, too, Claude,” she whispered. At that moment he was more dear to her than he had ever been.

“Keep in touch, Claude.” Tanner slapped him on the shoulder.

“You, too, buddy.”

Tanner and Amanda climbed into the car. Claude stood on the sidewalk until they were out of sight. The sadness Amanda had felt weighed heavily on her heart. She knew that keeping in touch meant sending cards at Christmas and giving occasional thought to the memories they shared. But that was life, she realized. People and circumstances changed.

Amanda brushed a tear from her eye as they rounded the street corner and Claude disappeared from view.

“Isn’t this the point in the movie where violins play and the hero carries the heroine off into the sunset?”

Tanner reached for her hand. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Mandy.” Lifting her hand, he pressed it to his lips. “It’s over. You can cry on my shoulder if you want to.”

And she did. The bittersweet tears of emotional release.