The Invitation (14 page)

“What kind of tea do you want?” Jackie asked finally, her hand gripping the tea canister so hard her knuckles were white.

“Whatever he drinks,” Terri said smugly, making Jackie grimace.

 

“Looking for something?” William asked Terri's son. At first glance, the “boy” didn't seem to be doing anything wrong, just walking around the airplane parked in the hangar, but William knew everyone in Chandler. The Pelman men were worthless, lazy, stupid, and hostile. William didn't trust this overgrown lout even to go to church without an ulterior motive.

“What are you doin' here?” the big kid asked, his thick black brows pulled into a scowl. He was handsome in a brutish way, with thick lips and deep-set eyes, but he had that air of defensiveness that stupidity and arrogance often gave people. Whether he meant to or not, he seemed to be daring anyone to contradict him, daring anyone to hint that he wasn't as smart as the rest of the world.

Abruptly his face brightened and he looked pleased with himself—rather the way a monkey might look when it figured out the problem some scientist had set for it. “You're after her, ain't ya?”

“I beg your pardon?” William asked stiffly. He wasn't sure, but he thought this Pelman was about eighteen years old and named Larry.

“This here Jackie. You're after her, ain't ya?” To William's horror, Larry nudged him with his elbow as though they were fellow conspirators, the best of friends. “I've had my eye on her since she came to town. Mom says—not that she knows anything—that this lady flyer's been all over the world, so I figure she's done some things. You know what I mean?” He winked at William. “Done some things that the ladies of Chandler ain't even heard of. So now this Jackie is here in this one-horse town, and I ain't heard nothin' about her doin' nothin' with nobody, you know what I mean? So I figure she's dyin' for it. And I figure I'll just help myself to what she's got. She's kinda old, but I figure she'll be grateful to have a real man in her bed. She's probably beggin' for it after all this time and after havin' to put up with them fancy foreign fellas. 'Course I can see that you was here first, so I'll let you have her all you want, what with you bein' a Montgomery and all. Hey! Maybe later you can pay me back, since I saw her first. You can give me and my dad jobs. Nothing too hard or anything, just somethin' kinda friendly like, with maybe a bonus now and then. What'd'ya say?”

 

“Have you seen my shoes?”

In speechless horror, Jackie turned toward the kitchen door to see William standing there, a little-boy-lost expression on his face. She had just spent thirty minutes trying to make Terri believe that there was no man in her life, certainly not any man in Chandler, and now here was William. Asking about his shoes, no less!

She wanted to scream at him, but she knew that whatever she said would only make things worse. Within one hour after Terri saw William Montgomery in her house the town of Chandler was going to be alive with the gossip that old Jackie was having an affair with very young William.

“If it isn't Billy Montgomery,” Terri said. “I haven't seen you in ages. What have you been doing?”

Jackie braced herself. What was William going to say to that? Was he going to tell the truth? That he was spending his days trailing Jackie about, just as he'd done when he was a child?

“Jackie and I are going into business together.”

“How nice. How is your mother? And your father?”

While William was answering these questions, Jackie looked at him. Usually William was very tidy, every hair in place, his shirt tucked in just so. But now he was slightly disheveled, and there seemed to be a place on his cheek that was darkening, as though it might be a bruise. Glancing down at his hands, she saw that the knuckles on his right hand were bleeding slightly. When he saw where her eyes were going, he put his hand behind his back and kept on talking to Terri, answering her questions about his family.

“And how did you do in school?” Terri was asking.

It took Jackie a long moment to grasp the fact that it had not entered Terri's head that William could be the man who was staying with Jackie, the man Terri had been asking about with all the gusto of an interrogator during the Spanish Inquisition.

The truth was, Terri was talking to William in that tone of voice that adults used with children. An aren't-you-cute voice. Any minute Jackie expected to hear her ask if William had washed behind his ears.

“So you've been taking care of Jackie,” Terri was saying. “That's very kind of you, especially when you have your own life to lead. A handsome young man like you must have a hundred pretty little girlfriends.”

“A few,” William said with a soft smile.

It was a smile that enraged Jackie. It was the smile a boy would give to an older woman when he was trying to be on his best behavior.

Outside, a horn began to blow insistently—Terri's horrible son demanding that his mother leave and leave
now.

“If you need any help with Jackie, let me know,” Terri was saying as she started to put on her coat. Graciously, William held it for her. “You always were a gentleman. Wasn't he, Jackie? You remember how he was. Even as a little boy he was so polite.”

Jackie could say nothing. She didn't want to remember that she'd known William as a little boy.

“But of course you remember,” Terri said when Jackie didn't answer. “You were his baby-sitter, and he used to follow you everywhere. Oh, the escapades you two had! And now, Billy, how nice it is of you to help Jackie when she needs it. Well, please remember me to your parents, and maybe you can get together with my children.”

“Yes,” Jackie said in a very nasty tone. “Maybe we can arrange play dates for them. In a sandbox. Or maybe we can take them to the circus. They could ride the elephants and eat cotton candy.”

At her hateful tone, Terri looked surprised and confused. “Well, yes, maybe.”

“Jackie's hand hurts her,” William said placidly, and his calmness made Jackie even angrier. “It puts her a bit on edge.”

“Walk me out to the car, will you?” Terri said to Jackie.

Her hands clenched at her side, Jackie walked with her friend to the car where her big son sat glowering behind the steering wheel. As they approached, he turned his head away, but not before Jackie saw a smear of dried blood leading from his nose across his cheek.

“Don't think you can put me off,” Terri said cheerfully as they reached the car. “I mean to find out who the man in your life is.”

Jackie's teeth were locked together. “William is not a child, you know. In case you haven't noticed, he is a man.” She had not meant to say that.

Terri looked puzzled, as though what Jackie had said had nothing whatever to do with what was going on in the world. “Of course he's a young man. I didn't mean to imply that he wasn't. Do you think I hurt his feelings by asking him about his parents? Children that age can be
so
sensitive.”

“William is
not
a child!” Her words sounded more forceful than she meant them to. Why couldn't she be sophisticated and cool-tempered? She might as well tell Terri the truth about how she was beginning to feel about William.

“No,” Terri said calmly, “Billy is not a child, but once you've seen a person in diapers you tend to always see that person in diapers.” She cocked her head to one side. “What is wrong with you? I think it's very nice of Billy to take care of you. You've certainly taken care of him often enough. I remember how he was always on your heels. Everyone in school used to laugh about little Billy Montgomery following you around.” She reached out and patted Jackie's arm and gave her a sad look. “Billy must be the closest thing you'll ever have to your own child.”

“Only if I had given birth to him when I was ten years old!” Jackie snapped with a great deal of venom.

Terri looked startled by Jackie's fierceness. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I'm sure that your childlessness must be a sore point with you. I meant nothing by what I said. I just think it's nice that Billy is here with you. It's kind of him.”

Jackie could say nothing, absolutely nothing. Terri had meant well, but she had succeeded in making Jackie feel about a hundred years old. According to Terri, Jackie was infertile, an old woman who had already lived her life, and there was no hope of any future for her. According to Terri, Jackie should be grateful that a young man like William “helped” her when she was “invalided.” Instead of a cut hand, Terri made Jackie's injury sound as though she had old-age arthritis and was confined to a wheelchair, and sweet young Billy Montgomery, out of the goodness of his heart, was wheeling her around.

Terri put her hand on the handle of the car, but then she quickly grabbed Jackie's arm and pulled her away where her son couldn't hear them. “Don't think I've forgotten about that man you have in your life. You won't be able to keep a secret from me.”

“I'm keeping no secrets from you,” Jackie said angrily—and honestly.

Terri looked as though she wanted to weep. Jackie was the highlight of her life, and she could not figure out what she had done to offend her. Maybe Jackie was telling the truth and
didn't
have a man in her life. Maybe Terri had read the signs wrong. Maybe Jackie's sudden, inexplicable hostility had arisen because Terri had assumed something that wasn't true and now Jackie was embarrassed that there was no man in her life.

“You do remember that I told you about Edward Browne? He's been asking about you again,” she said softly, glancing at her big son, sulking in the car. “He's asked about you several times. He really does like you, and he's a great catch.”

So many emotions were raging through Jackie that she couldn't speak, so Terri seemed to take her silence as encouragement.

“He's a very nice man, Jackie,” Terri said persuasively. “He's about fifty-five years old, a widower. His children are grown, so you wouldn't have any problems there. Stepchildren can be a handful, you know. He's quite well off, so he could support you after you quit flying.”

Jackie felt that Terri meant, “When you come to your senses, decide to grow up, and quit fooling with those silly airplanes, there will be a man to take care of you.”

Terri didn't have any idea of the thoughts going through Jackie's head. To her, the prospect of Edward Browne was wonderful. The man owned every shoe store within a hundred-mile radius, and he had a lovely house furnished with antiques he had inherited from his parents. The thought of a steady, reliable man, of a house that was well cared for and orderly, was Terri's idea of heaven. She no longer wanted excitement in her life. The drunken rages of her husband and the bloody fights between him and their sons were more excitement than she'd ever wanted. In Terri's mind, happiness was buying something pretty and fragile and feeling sure that it wasn't going to be broken within twenty-four hours.

“Edward Browne is such a nice man,” Terri encouraged. “He's lived in Chandler for fifteen years, and everyone has only praise for him. Not a word of scandal. His wife was lovely, and they seemed to be very much in love. He was devastated when she died two years ago, and I understand he's very lonely. Every unmarried woman in Chandler from twenty to fifty has been after him. He'll go out with them now and then, but he never goes out with the same woman more than twice. Yet he's asked me about
you
several times. I told him he should call you, but he said that he wants to know you'd welcome him. I think he's rather shy, and, Jackie, you know that you can be intimidating. I think he considers you a celebrity, so he's a bit afraid of calling you without prior permission.”

Terri was looking at Jackie intently. “Can I tell him it's okay to call you?”

“I…I don't know,” Jackie said honestly. Why did life have to be so complicated?

As far as Jackie could tell, there was no way to get rid of Terri except to agree to allow this man, Edward Browne, to call her. And why shouldn't Jackie go out with this very,
very
appropriate man? Was she engaged to someone else? Even dating someone else? In love with another man? No, she was not. She was completely and absolutely free. And besides, her attraction to William was probably about ninety percent loneliness. She was used to being surrounded by people, and now she was suddenly so alone that probably
any
man, no matter what age, would look good to her.

“Tell him to call me,” Jackie said with some conviction—not much, but some.

Terri hugged her friend and then got into the rusty old car beside her angry son, who sped away so fast that flying gravel peppered Jackie's legs.

Once Terri was gone, Jackie braced herself to face William. She didn't like the fact that he'd so blatantly announced his presence to Terri. Had Terri been a little more astute she might have figured out that Jackie and William were…well, were whatever they were.

In the house, she found William sitting on the couch, calmly reading the paper. When he looked up at her he seemed to expect her to sit by him and finish reading the comics, just as though Terri's visit had never happened.