Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day (21 page)

“So Howard’s married again. Remarkable, I must say.” Mr. Ernest Sitton sat behind his desk, both hands resting on it, but the fingers of his right one tapped a pile of papers, one finger at a time, over and over.

He’d taken the marital news of his old friend and income-producing client without turning a hair. That surprised me. I thought, next to Junior, he’d be the one most likely to rant and rave over it. But no, he’d just nodded his head and said, “I guess you have proof of this marriage?”

“Right here,” I’d told him, digging in my bag for the marriage certificate, which I intended to keep on my person until all likelihood of being questioned about it was long past and gone.

He’d studied it for a while, then said, “I’m a little taken aback that Howard didn’t invite me to attend. He’s seldom taken such a big step without my advice.” Meaning, I guessed, that his advice would’ve been Don’t Do It. But you never know, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Well, we’d planned to have a big wedding, with engraved announcements and a reception for all our friends. But Junior was hell-bent to put him in a Raleigh nursing home, which is where Mr. Howard would be right this minute if I hadn’t stepped in. So we didn’t have time for anything but a quickie.” He blinked, and I quickly added, “Wedding, quickie wedding.”

He handed the certificate back to me, and said in an offhand way, “Big difference in ages, wouldn’t you say?”

I agreed, because you can’t deny facts, then I said, “I don’t mind, and neither does he.” Meaning, in a nice way, that if we didn’t, nobody else should.

He’d nodded and went to tapping his fingers again.

Then he said, “Howard’s been my friend for thirty years, so you’ll forgive me if I ask a few personal questions.”

I nodded back and said, “Depends on how personal.” Figuring he wanted to know about those intimate details that everybody speculated about, especially when two unlikely people tie the knot. You know, the pictures that come into your mind when you try to imagine how they manage.

He gave a quick smile, almost too quick to see, and said, “You certainly don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I know. The first advice you ever gave me was to keep my mouth shut.”

“Hm-m-m. Yes. So I did. Well, Mrs. Connard,” he started, and I smiled, almost secure now with my new name since a lawyer had just recognized out loud that it really belonged to me. “So, tell me. Just what do you expect to gain from this association?”

“Association? It’s a marriage to me,” I said. “And I don’t know what you mean by what I expect to gain from it.”

“Oh, come now. Just give me an idea of what you want to get out of it.”

“Oh, I get it,” I said, thinking that this was one person who might understand what I wanted from Mr. Howard. And what I was willing to give in return. Pleased that he was so interested in my deepest desires, I got up from my chair and walked to the window overlooking Main Street. I hoped he’d be interested enough to listen for as long as it took to outlast the Pucketts, because I saw their van parked in a loading zone down the street.

“You knew my daddy,” I said, turning toward him but staying close to the window. At his nod, I went on, “And I expect you knew, and maybe still know, some more of my Wiggins kin. That being the case, maybe you’ll understand when I tell you that all I’ve ever wanted was to better myself. I thought I was paving the way to that when I took my CNA course, which I graduated from with honors, I’m proud to say.” I took another quick look out the window, and saw Harley get out of the van and walk toward a Pepsi machine on the sidewalk. Sighting confirmed. It was the Pucketts’ van, just as I’d suspected. I hoped they’d burn up in the heat and perish of thirst while they waited for me. Turning back to Mr. Sitton, I went on. “But it didn’t take long for me to learn that it was going to take more education than I could afford to get what I wanted.

“You’re an educated man, Mr. Sitton, so you know what I’m talking about. Think where you’d be and what you’d be doing if you hadn’t gotten all the schooling I see the diplomas for hanging on these walls. Detailing cars, for one thing, or bagging groceries at Ingles or Winn-Dixie, for another. Or selling shoes at the Pick’n’Pay. You have to have an education these days to better yourself in any way. Or, like in my case, if you can’t afford one, marry somebody who’s already reached a better place.”

Glancing out the window again, I saw Harley hand a cold one to Roy. Then he slid back into the van and left the door open with one foot propped on it.

“So,” I said, “that’s what I hope to gain from marrying Mr. Howard. And I’m willing to take care of him for the rest of his days in order to get it. Not only willing, but happy to do it. It’s a good exchange.”

“Well,” Mr. Sitton said. “Well. A very practical take on the marital bond, I must say, and I applaud your candor. No beating around the bush with you, is there? I appreciate the fact that you didn’t try to convince me of your undying love for a man who can barely speak or walk. I wouldn’t have believed you if you had, so I’m glad you didn’t.”

I grabbed another quick look out the window and saw no change, trying to decide if Mr. Sitton’s words had an edge of sarcasm to them. It’s hard to tell with lawyers, don’t you think? But I played him straight.

“No, I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Sitton, because I don’t love Mr. Howard,” I said, daring to face him directly with as direct an answer as I could give. “At least, not with the kind of love I’ve already had a bait of and that’s never done anything for me but tear my heart out. In fact, if I’d loved Mr. Howard with that kind of love, I wouldn’t have married him. I’d’ve run as fast as I could in the other direction. So, no, what I feel for him is much better in the long run.

“But I expect what you’re really asking is if I married him for his money. And I’ll say yes, because that’s part of who he is. But it was for his name, more than for his money. Just as an example of what I mean, would you be giving me all this time if Etta Mae Wiggins had come to see you? No, you wouldn’t. But you had the time for Etta Mae Connard, and so did that so-called secretary of yours. Now, if you want to talk about what Mr. Howard feels for me, I’ll just tell you straight out. He’s got the hots for me that just won’t quit, and, believe it or not, with what I have to offer he may be getting the best of the deal. Regardless of what you might think about my ulterior motives.”

“Well,” he said, squirming a little in his chair. “Well, that’s straightforward enough. And, uh, upon reflection, I might be inclined to agree with you on who’s getting the best of the deal in this, ah, association.” His pale face reddened all the way across his scalp. I could see the pink skin under the white strands on the top of his head. Men are all alike.

I looked out the window again, then did a double take. The van was pulling out into traffic. And there was a deputy, who’d made them leave the loading zone. Licking my lips to hide it, I had to smile.

And I also had to get out of Mr. Sitton’s office and get myself over to Mr. Howard’s while the getting was good. Poor ole thing, over there resting up for his wedding night. I needed to be there when he woke to be sure he was feeling up to it.

“So,” I said, relieved that the coast was now clear, “I guess none of this was a surprise to you, since Junior’s probably already called, screaming bloody murder. He said he was going to ask you to come out there and talk to all of us. Set me straight, as Valerie said.”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, reaching for a pile of pink slips, relieved, I thought, to turn to business matters, “I do have a note here to return a call to him. I haven’t gotten to it yet but, yes, I expect you’re right. He’ll be upset by this turn of events. But it won’t make any difference to his situation. Vis-à-vis his father’s estate, that is.”

“Well, vis-à-vis Junior and me, I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want to get between father and son, so I hope you can reassure him on that point. And Valerie, too, if you don’t mind, because she’s having a flat-out fit over this.”

He smiled in a distant kind of way, and said, “I’ll do my best on that score.”

“Well, I better be going. Mr. Howard’s going to be awake pretty soon and he’ll wonder where I am.”

As I headed for the door, he got up from his chair and walked across the room with me. Holding out his hand, he said, “Perhaps I’ll see you later in the day, if that’s what Junior wants.” He shook my hand, and went on, “I’m sure everything’ll work out fine, Mrs. Connard. Please accept my congratulations.”

I was grinning so hard I could hardly answer. But I squeezed his hand to let him know how much I appreciated his good wishes. I started out the door, then turned back to him. “Say that one more time, if you don’t mind.”

He raised his eyebrows, then quickly understood. “My very best wishes,” he said, with one of those flickering smiles. “Mrs. Connard.”

He closed the door behind me as I crossed the outer office with a light step and an even lighter heart. And a smile on my face. Without looking at ole tight-ass glaring at me from behind her desk, I flipped her off and bounced on out of there.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I took my time leaving the vestibule. Looking up and down the street and checking the passing traffic and parking spaces, I searched for any sign of the Pucketts.

Then I dashed across the sidewalk to my car and quickly backed out, still watching all the mirrors. My one big fear was that they’d follow me to Mr. Howard’s, and I couldn’t have that. It was up to me now to look after him, and the thought of Harley and Roy barging in and scaring him into another stroke raised the hair on the back of my neck.

The big problem that kept rolling around in my mind was how I could get rid of the Pucketts on a permanent basis. I couldn’t go around for the rest of my life watching rearview mirrors and peering out windows before I stepped outside. I thought about just facing them off and telling them in no uncertain terms that Skip was gone and I didn’t know where he was or when he was coming back.

Would that work? It sure hadn’t the night before. I couldn’t figure what I could do to rid myself of them. They were the most determined pair I’d ever seen, which shouldn’t have surprised me since all the Pucketts were known to be stubborn as mules, never turning loose of anything once they latched on. Why, I remembered hearing that one of them tracked a man who’d stolen a bluetick hound, which wasn’t worth the money it took to feed, for months and months. Followed him to Florida and back to Easley, then over into Madison County until he got that dog back. Then sold the dog to somebody else.

I drove around several blocks, turning and twisting as I looked for the van, hoping I’d lost it for good. Then it came to me that if I kept doing that, I could run up on the Pucketts when they might otherwise not ever have found me. So I straightened up and headed straight for Old Oak Avenue, watching all the time.

I didn’t feel safe until I turned into the driveway and the first of Mrs. Connard’s trees and bushes hid me from the street. When I got to the house, the first things I saw were the cars I’d been hoping were on their way to Raleigh. But no, Valerie and Junior were still there, expecting, no doubt, that Mr. Sitton was going to rescue them from my presence in their family.

Good luck on that little deal, I thought, smiling at the thought of the end run I’d made by getting to Mr. Sitton first.

I took an armload of clothes from the backseat and went into the kitchen where Emmett was. He must’ve stayed there to keep out of Valerie’s way.

“Hey, Emmett,” I said, as low as I could without outright whispering. “I guess I’m moving in.”

“Put them clothes down, Miss Etta, I’ll get ’em all in for you. An’ I cleaned out the closet in the room next to Mr. Howard’s. It a sittin’ room now, but they’s a big closet in there, an’ I’ll put everything there till you make whatever ’rangements you want to.”

“Thank you, Emmett, I was wondering where you’d want me to put all this.” I cocked my head toward the front of the house. “They still here?”

“Yessum, an’ they ain’t happy.”

“Too bad,” I said. “They’re not going to be any happier when they talk to Mr. Sitton.” I smiled, wanting to share my happy feeling. “He
congratulated
me, Emmett, and I tell you the truth, I felt more married when he did that than I did when the preacher pronounced us. I can’t wait to tell Mr. Howard. How’s he doing, anyway?”

“He still kinda tired. Jus’ kinda wiped out, seem like. Been sleeping off an’ on all afternoon.”

“Did he eat any lunch?”

“Yessum, a little. But he don’t ever eat much, so that don’t worry me. I’m a little worrit, though, ’bout all this sleepin’ he been doin’.”

My heart gave a quick jump, wondering if I should call his doctor. “You don’t think he’s failing, do you?”

“No’m, I don’t guess. Jus’ us’lly he perk up by this time of day, then give out again right about suppertime.”

“He’s had a busy day,” I said, thinking of the early morning wedding which wasn’t part of his usual routine. “Not physically, though, because I’ve taken him on drives that lasted longer than we were gone this morning, and they didn’t faze him. So, if he’s so tired, it must just be the excitement of it all, us getting married, Junior getting hurt, and Valerie getting on her high horse. Emmett, I’m going to depend on you, since you’ve been with him longer than anybody else. What do you think? Should I call the doctor?”

“No’m, I don’t reckon so. I think what the matter is, is he jus’ sleepin’ till Miss Valerie go home. He tryin’ to keep her outta sight an’ outta mind.”

I smiled. “He’s pretty smart, so I bet that’s it. But, Emmett, let’s keep an eye on him, and if you don’t like how he’s doing, tell me. Or just go ahead and call the doctor. You’ve been taking care of him so long that I trust what you think of his condition.”

“Yessum, I will. I know you got yo’ hands full with them two in yonder. I hear Miss Valerie rantin’ an’ ravin’ ’cause Mr. Sitton ain’t here yet. You might oughta tell ’em you already seen him.”

“I want to visit with Mr. Howard first. Seems like I haven’t seen him all day, I’ve been so busy. I’ll just tiptoe to his room and spend a few minutes with him, and hope they don’t hear me till I’m ready to face them.” I looked toward the dining room door, dreading what lay behind it.

“Oh, Emmett,” I said, before leaving, “one more thing, and I really hate to ask this, but I couldn’t get out of it. Some girlfriends of mine want to give me a shower tonight, and they wouldn’t be put off to a more convenient time. Would it be all right if they came over here? I suggested it, because I didn’t want to leave Mr. Howard on the first day of our wedded life. But I don’t want it to be any trouble to you, so we could just put out a few of the things you fixed for lunch, and maybe they won’t stay long.”

“Why, Miss Etta,” Emmett said, “you don’t have to ax me can you have yo’ friends come over. You jus’ tell me, an’ I fix it up for you. I be happy to see this ole house have a party again. An’ we got plenty to serve them ladies. I’ll set the dining room table and have it all nice for you, don’t you worry ’bout a thing.”

What a relief. I’d been afraid he wouldn’t like me inviting people in and taking over the house like I owned it. I didn’t need nor want Emmett thinking I was taking advantage of him or of Mr. Howard’s things, and then sulling up on me. My new name didn’t give me a license to lose the friends I already had.

I sneaked out of the kitchen and across the back of the center hall, then into the small one that led to Mr. Howard’s room. I listened outside the door to be sure he was alone.

Hearing nothing but the murmur of Valerie’s voice from the drawing room, I opened the bedroom door and slipped inside. Mr. Howard was lying in his hospital bed, the head of it slightly elevated, which was the way he liked it. He seemed to be sleeping, his eyes not quite closed and his mouth not at all. A soft snore fluttered his lips with each breath, and I thought of Bernie, who’d run me out of bed more than once with the nerve-shattering noise he made. I could live with this, and sleep with it, too.

I walked over to the bed and took Mr. Howard’s good hand, my heart sinking as I felt how thin and frail it was. Then I remembered how happy I was making him and was glad that I could brighten his life. I mean, when somebody has to live with a handicap or an infirmity like he had, it does you good to be able to give them a little enjoyment now and again.

“Mr. Howard,” I whispered, “don’t wake up if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to tell you what’s been going on. I know you must be wondering, all closed up in here, not knowing who’s doing what. You just keep in mind that I’m always working for us and doing the things you can’t do, and that I’m always thinking about you.”

He batted his eyelids, looking straight up at the ceiling like he was trying to figure out where he was. I took a Kleenex and wiped his mouth. “It’s me,” I said. “How’re you feeling?”

He finally focused on me, giving me that little half smile, which was the best he could do, and tightened his hand on mine.

As he tried to speak, I shushed him, telling him to save his strength for later on. Then I told him how Mr. Sitton had taken the news, and he nodded, pleased to hear it. His eyelids kept closing down on him, although each time they opened he looked at me with all the love I knew was in his old heart.

Then I told him about the party that’d be later in the evening, telling him we’d keep it quiet and not disturb him, but that if he didn’t think we ought to have it in his house, to just tell me and I’d call it off.

“You,” he said, straining to get the words out. “You,” he tried again, pointing at me. “You-er ’ouse. Now.”

My heart melted. I leaned over and kissed his face. Then to tickle him, I said, “I would invite you to the party, but I’m afraid you’d be embarrassed. It’s going to be”—and I leaned close and whispered—“a
lingerie
shower. What do you think of that?”

His eyes flew open, sparkling with the thought of what usually turned men on, regardless of how feeble they were.

“Knowing those girls,” I went on, “they’ll give me something nice from Belk’s or Dillard’s. Or maybe even from Victoria’s Secret! How about that?”

He liked it. I could tell. So I kept on telling him how Emmett was going to set the table for us, and who I thought would come, then how I was moving my clothes in, meaning I was going to stay and be with him all the time. Then I mentioned Valerie and Junior, and how I thought they would come to terms with our situation and go on back to Raleigh, and how happy the two of us were going to be.

By that time, he’d dropped off again, his eyelids and mouth fluttering as he breathed. I put his hand back under the sheet and patted it, telling him I had to go talk to Valerie and Junior, but that I wasn’t going anywhere else.

“I’ll be here for you from now on,” I whispered. “And things will be done the way you want them to be.”

I didn’t think he heard me, but the books say that a part of the mind never sleeps. So I hoped some of what I’d said got through, because I meant it.

As I turned to leave, he suddenly stirred in bed and grasped the metal handrail with his good hand, grunting and striving to pull himself up.

“Ehra Mae, way . . .” he called.

I came back to his bedside, concerned because his face was even more strained than his words. He grabbed my hand again, as he turned loose of the rail and flopped back in bed. The lines in his face deepened as he tried to say what was on his mind.

“Geh Ernes’,” he croaked, jerking at my hand like it was an urgent matter.

“Ernest? You mean, Mr. Sitton?”

He nodded his head hard, squeezing my hand even harder. “Geh ’im. Need . . . nee’ take.” He stopped and looked at me with the frustration of a once-mighty man who’d lost all his powers. “Nee’,” he strained to say. “Take care.”

“Oh,” I said, catching his meaning. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of myself and you, too.”

He shook his head on the pillow, back and forth, back and forth, while tears of frustration leaked out of one eye. “I. You. Ernes’.” He took a deep breath, looking straight at me, hoping, I guessed, that I would read his meaning in his eyes. “I . . . wan’ take . . . care
you.
Need see . . . Ernes’.”

I leaned my head on the metal handrail, tears flooding my eyes, just melting away inside.

“You’re the sweetest man in the world,” I whispered. “Now don’t worry, Mr. Ernest Sitton will be here in a while and I’ll tell him you want to see him.”

He fell back in relief, nodding his head and loosening my hand. I pulled the sheet up again and smoothed it down. Then, whispering that I’d be in the drawing room, I left.

As I pulled the door closed, I heard the soft snoring begin again.