The House on Persimmon Road (25 page)

“Wheeler did, too, once. He told me.”

So that’s where all this was coming from. “What else did he say?”

“He said there’s some little part in each of us that nobody else can ever know. He said sometimes the part is there and we don’t even know it ourselves, and that it makes us do odd things, even hurt people we love. Wheeler did it. He said that’s what Dad did. And that one day, Dad will be sorry.”

“Wheeler is probably right.”

“But I might be all grown up by then.”

Justine sensed her son had come to a decision, that a milestone had been reached. Pip was severing himself from a past over which he had no control. It was a very adult thing for him to do—more than she had accomplished. She was both envious and proud of him. “How did you feel about that?”

He shrugged. “I’m gonna grow up anyway and be the best person I can—” he paused “—but I still might have fights in school.”

Justine smiled. “Well, we’ll deal with that when it happens.”

“Wheeler says Tucker is so responsible he squeaks with it, and that I’ll most likely be the same way. Are you gonna marry Tucker, Mom?”

Justine floundered for a full ten seconds. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

“He’s all right,” he said, which was Pip’s highest accolade. “Judy Ann likes him, too.”

“Has…has Tucker said anything about me?”

“I gotta get ready or he’ll leave without me.”

“Hold on. He has, hasn’t he? What’d he say?”

Pip sighed, reduced to looking every inch the very much put upon eleven-year-old. “He said you were the smartest woman he ever met.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“And, the dumbest.”

That finished her. “Go brush your teeth.”

Agnes drank her morning coffee on the fly. On Wheeler’s account she was determined to look her purple best. She hogged the bath until both Judy Ann and Pauline were taking turns pounding on the door. Justine coaxed her out by saying Tucker was due back in less than fifteen minutes.

When the men arrived, Tucker admired Justine up and down then suggested she get into a pair of jeans if she was planning to be any help to him.

Wheeler, snide as ever, ordered Agnes out of her purple. He wanted to hook fish, not blind them. And Agnes, who seldom took a step outside fearing she’d break an ankle in one of the holes Milo was forever leaving behind, and who complained of how difficult it was to negotiate the long aisles in grocery stores, donned an old pair of pants, covered her hair with a scarf, dragged on a pair of galoshes, tucked her cane under her arm and marched the quarter mile with Wheeler to the fishing hole. Pip went along to fish and photograph the event. Judy Ann was generously allowed to tag along, provided she carried the bait bucket.

Pauline, dressed to the nines, also escaped. “You don’t mind, do you, dear? Mrs. Ellison has invited me to brunch and to make a fourth at bridge this afternoon. Now that I’m solvent, I can play penny-a-point. And I can put gas in the car.”

Pauline had collected the grand sum of ninety-six dollars from her various jobs, which could hardly be regarded as solvent, but Justine knew Tucker was listening. “How late will you be?”

“I should be home before dark, but if I’m not, don’t worry, I do know how to turn on the car lights. And, I’ve left Mrs. Ellison’s number on the pad by the phone.”

“Have a good time,” Justine said, and walked her mother to the door.

After Pauline drove away, Justine turned back and was aware of the awesome quiet of the house. Arms folded, Tucker was leaning against the doorjamb of her office, watching, waiting for her return.

“Well done,” he said softly.

“I’m improving.”

“Yes, you are. And I think every little bit of improvement deserves a reward.” His tone was light, but his eyes burned dark and promising.

“You have something specific in mind?” she asked, voice hollow and her eyes fixed on a spot beyond Tucker.

“Actually, I do.”

Oh, hooey! Lottie groaned as Tucker took Justine into his arms and began to nuzzle her neck. How could they stop to spoon on the most important day of her life in a hundred years! She took herself off to the side porch where she could watch for their return to Justine’s office.

“Not that I think sex is the be-all, end-all answer to every spat we might have,” he said much later.

“But it’s your first choice?” she said, stretching languidly. The sheet was pulled taut, outlining her breasts, hips, and the length of her legs. He opened one eye and watched her appreciatively. Justine had a contented look on her face that made him feel good. His arm tightened about her waist.

“It was my choice of the moment. Truth is I cut my nose off to spite my face by staying away from you all week. I was miserable.”

She turned in his arms and ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. “Tell me about your cookbook. I want to see it. I’ll even try some of the recipes. If I can do them, then anybody can.”

“I don’t want to talk recipes,” he said lazily, letting his hand trail down her hip and up again.

“I think it’s exciting. You could become famous. Women would go crazy over you… On second thought, I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Nobody’s gonna go crazy over me because I’m not gonna get famous. I just want to make a few extra bucks to get my dad out of the old folk’s home.”

“I’m crazy about you.”

“You’re supposed to be. Look at all the nice things I do for you.”

“What nice things?”

“This, for instance,” he said, moving a fingertip down the valley between her breasts and lower.

She shivered. “Hadn’t we better get started?”

“We are.”

“I meant on the rewiring.”

“Seems like I’m generating a bit of electricity right now.” The inside of her leg felt like satin against his muscular thigh. Words galloped in his brain, soothing words, words of love, words that said how much she meant to him. He couldn’t say them because she pressed her lips to his, whispering, “Yes, you are…”

Gently he shifted her body entirely atop his own.

She lowered herself upon him then, and he forgot everything else but his need to bury himself in her.

Justine fumed. “Do you bark orders like this to your crew all day? It’s a wonder one of them hasn’t stabbed you in the back. Or hit you over the head with a crowbar. She hefted the one Tucker had instructed her to use to pull baseboards away from the wall.

All the furniture and equipment in the office had been shoved to the middle of the room to give them work space. Not a breeze stirred. It was hot, dirty work. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts.

Her nice, neat office was a wreck. The ceiling fixture dangled. Tucker planned to rewire it and the one in the kitchen so that they could bear ceiling fans. The disorder frightened her, for the office had been her haven, the one place where she felt she knew what she was doing at all times. Now it was chaos. It made her feel unsettled and cranky. She knew she was taking her fright out on Tucker unjustly. She just couldn’t seem to help it.

Too, something had happened between them in the bedroom. There had been more sharing, playing, talk, and questions than ever before. He knew everything about her. What she liked, disliked, how scared she’d been when Philip left, how safe she felt now, with him. She had no protective defenses left. She felt naked without them.

“I just said be careful with the trim so I can put it back after I run the wires. Now, get moving or I won’t be able to jury-rig anything before nightfall. You want to spend the night in the dark?”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing! Suppose the baseboards break?”

“That’s why I’m telling you. Just work the beveled end down between the wall and the trim and pull away gently. They’ll give.”

He was installing outlets midway up the wall and enclosing the open wires with piping down to the baseboards, then drilling holes through the walls at floor level to repeat the process in the next room. A fine film of drill dust lay over everything.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

He ripped an old wire from the wall and insisted she inspect it. “It’s been painted over, but see that? The covering has cracked clear down to the live wires. You’re lucky this place hasn’t burned down around your ears every time a fuse blew. Now, stop nagging. I’m happy. Why can’t you be happy?”

“I’m happy. I’m gloriously happy. And, I’m properly meek and in awe of your ability.”

“Good! Go make us something cool to drink. I’m thirsty.”

“How about a nice cool glass of arsenic?”

“Ice water will do.”

“I can’t get water. The electricity is off, which means the pump doesn’t work and all the ice has melted in the fridge.”

“Step down to my place and get some.”

“So now I’m a gofer.”

Curtailing his impatience, Tucker wiped sweat from his face with the tail of his shirt. “If I weren’t so fond of you, dear heart, I’d turn you over to Milo. He knows how to handle gophers.”

“Very funny.”

“Okay. That’s it. We’re two hours into this. You mind telling me what the problem is? Did I say or do something wrong earlier? Act like a savage in bed? Hurt your feelings? What? For crying out loud.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, her voice seeping through clenched teeth.

“The understatement of the century. You’ll have to do better than that. There may be times in our life that I’ll be able to read your mind, but right now is not one of them, so out with it.”

Justine swiped at a rivulet of sweat on her chin. “Suppose you can’t get all this back together? Suppose afterward, nothing works, or it goes haywire?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“A lot of people say they know what they’re doing. They don’t.”

“I’m not one of those people, but you’ll just have to take that on trust. Uh-oh. Trust and control. We’re back to your pets, are we?”

“We just don’t seem organized, is all.” There was a beseeching light in her eyes that he could not ignore.

“I think,” he drawled slowly, “that we have a conversation going on two levels here. You know, before we make love, everything is fine… while we’re making love, everything is fine… after we make love, the doubts start. This is plainly and unequivocally unfair.

“I’m not going to run out on you, Justine. Only I can’t prove it except by living with you for forty or fifty years, by which time you will have no doubt driven me so loony, I’ll be like poor old Milo, thinking the world is flat and spending my days digging for imaginary gophers. You got that, or shall I chisel it in stone?”

Justine got more than he realized. She was trying to put their relationship within the narrow confines that she had known growing up and later, with Philip, boundaries beyond which she’d never been allowed to stray until Philip himself had left, and then there were none.

Tucker was a man with such a strong, healthy sense of self that no boundaries were necessary. He loved, and that was it, simply and steadfastly. He saw no need to analyze it or force it into a mold. It would take her a lifetime to gain that kind of confidence. With his strength beside her, she could do it.

“You’ve made yourself clear. I’ll go get that water now.”

“Good.”

“You don’t want to kiss me or anything before I go?”

“No, I don’t want to touch you. If I do, I won’t finish this wiring, and if I don’t finish the wiring, we’ll be right back where we started.”

“I understand.”

“I’m not sure you do. Hold up your left hand. See that little finger? That’s me twisted around it. That is severe entanglement. That is the end of all the miserable nights I’ve ever spent alone.” He scowled at her. “That’s happiness.”

Justine clasped her hands behind her back. “You’re a very special and wonderful man, Tucker.”

His heart seemed to swell to bursting within his chest. “Stop batting your lashes at me like that.”

Mush and piffle!
exclaimed Lottie from her perch atop the stepladder. She determined if those two didn’t stop jawing and hugging and kissing and get on with the business of electricity, she was going to do something drastic. Fortunately Justine left on her errand and Tucker began measuring and cutting wires and stripping the ends again, a procedure Lottie watched with keen interest.

Late Sunday afternoon Justine looked up from the dual computer screens and smiled exuberantly at Tucker. “Mother said there was more to you than met the eye—she was right.”

“Somebody had to tell you that? You didn’t figure it for yourself?”

“It was hard for me to be objective.” She wanted very much to start working again at that very minute. But Tucker had put in two long days and she had promised him supper tonight. He had even installed a second fuse box and wired up the clothes dryer, for which Agnes had unabashedly thanked him in front of everybody.

“Mom,” said Pip, careening into the room. “The grill is ready. Are we gonna cook burgers or what? I’m starving.”

Justine shut down the computer. “I was just coming.”

“All that work and my supper is hamburgers?” Tucker asked.

“My only other accomplishments in the kitchen are pork chops and meat loaf. I can’t compete with you.”

“I’ll do the salad.”

“You can’t. I promised that chore to Judy Ann. She’s showing an interest in cooking and I’m encouraging her. I was twenty-four before I learned to boil an egg and still can’t do it without the shell cracking. I don’t want her to suffer from the same lack of skill.”

“I’ll show you how to boil an egg properly.”

“If you feel you just have to do something…make dessert.”

“Justine? May I interrupt?”

“I know, Mother. You’re starving, too.”

“No, I nibbled a cracker. I was just wondering if Tucker would mind loading those Japanese sculptures into the station wagon for me.”

“Load them?”

“Well, yes dear, you’ve never liked them and Pip is just using them as hat racks and…”

“Back up, Mother. Start from the beginning. Load them to take where? I may not like them, but they are museum pieces.”

“That’s the whole point. Yesterday one of the women I played bridge with noticed the pin on my lapel, the jade one that your father bought on one of his trips to Asia, and we started talking, and it seems her husband is an avid collector of Japanese art. A dilettante, I’m sure, not nearly as expert as your father was. But the upshot is he would like to see the sculpture…perhaps buy it.”