No Perfect Secret (15 page)

She served the macaroni and cheese piping hot, the sandwiches on the side with crunchy sweet pickles, and Diet Cokes.

“My mother was widowed at thirty-one,” Anna said, unwilling to let go of the topic. “Three years younger than I am now
and then she had me to raise. She was always happy. I don’t know how she managed that.”

“Did she remarry?”

“No. She had a long-time boyfriend. He never slept over, at least while I was home. I asked her if she was going to marry him. I never will forget how she laughed. She said men have a thing about thermostats. It was so wonderful not to argue over the settings, so no, she wasn’t going to open up that can worms ever again. I didn’t understand what she meant then, but boy! I sure do now.”

“So, what do
you
have in mind to do?”

They looked at each other for a long time
—probably only seconds, but that can be a long time.

“Buy a dog,” Anna said.

“A dog is good.”

He scooped up the last bit of cheese with an edge of toast and popped it in his mouth. “From the bottom of my heart, this farm boy thanks you for comfort food. May I use your phone to call a taxi?”

“You’re welcome. No problem—help yourself to the wall phone—right there,” she pointed to the back wall. “Where do you want the taxi to take you?”

“Home. I’m not feeling so good. I think the anesthetic is wearing off. In fact, I’m certain of it.” He lifted his arm from the table where he’d rested it while eating, and slipped it back into the sling.

“I’m curious. Would your house keys be on the same ring as your car keys?”

Reality dawned. “I am so screwed. I’ll call Helen. What time is it?”

Anna glanced at her watch. “Eleven-fifteen.”

He looked surprised. “As late as that? Umm, you wouldn’t by any chance have a spare sofa? Helen is not friendly when she gets late phone calls. I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning. Gentleman’s word of honor.”

Anna looked at him askance. “Did you plan this on purpose?”

“You mean did I
plan a panicky call to rescue you from a locked basement? Oh, I get it. You think I planned to get stabbed by your loony tunes mother-in-law. Oh, and while I was being carted out of here wondering what the hell was going on, I whispered to Helen to hide my jacket. Some dork, I am. You caught me.”

“All right. Point made. Get your little blank
et and follow me.”

For as long as you’ll let me babe, I’ll follow you anywhere.
“Your sarcasm is pretty good,” he said good naturedly. “Not the best—”

“I’m out of practice,” she said, hiding her smile, pointing out the guest bath
in the event he didn’t remember from his first visit, then stepping aside so that he could enter the bedroom. He walked in and she pulled the door closed. “It locks from in the inside,” she called through the panel.

Yep
, Caburn muttered under his breath.
We’re going to have a great life together—if we ever get around to it.
The pain in his shoulder had been creeping up on him for the past hour. Now, it stole his breath and cramped his stomach, causing vertigo. He sat down on the chenille bedspread.
Please God, let there be aspirin in that medicine cabinet.

Anna knew using her bedroom was impossible. Hanging behind the hall bathroom door were her old flannel pajamas and ancient robe that had been doing winter duty since her college days. They would have to do. She washed her face and hands, grabbed a comforter from the linen closet, and prepared to bunk down on the living room sofa. The camel back sofa and the antique mirror in her bedroom were the only two pieces she’d brought with her to Washington. Both were family heirlooms: first belonging to her maternal grandmother and then her mother. They were her connection to her past. She’d had the sofa refurbished in a green and cr
eam stripe silk, and added down-filled pillows for comfort.

She tucked one beneath her head. She wouldn’t sleep, of course. Her mind was going in too many directions.
One specific direction it was going in was right down the hall to the man in her guest bedroom. She fluffed the sofa pillow, pulled the comforter up to her chin, determined to give this more thought. She felt Caburn near, his arms around her, comforting her, whispering in her ear until goose bumps lifted on every inch of her skin. But it was the arms of Morpheus that cradled her, and the goose bumps that covered her did so because the comforter had slipped to the floor.

She awoke midmorning to the fresh aroma of coffee, the smell of frying bacon and soft voices. Shivering and sleepy-eyed she went into the kitchen.

“Anna. I’m sorry did we wake you?” Lila asked.

“I don’t think so.” She was looking a question to Lila as she poured herself coffee and sat at the table across from Caburn. He was wearing a red and black flannel shirt, khaki slacks, had wet comb streaks through his sandy-colored hair and a day-old beard.

“I wasn’t planning to come over here so early,” Lila told her, “but Clarence and JoJo turned up at my door before seven this morning. You should see Clarence. He’s got on one of those white paper hazmat suits, paper booties over ballerina slippers—must be size 12—as big as he is, and plastic gloves. When Clarence says germ-free, he means it—big time. I came over here to get some coffee and I found Frank wearing a blanket sarong, trying to make himself breakfast one-armed. Anyway, Frank filled me in and I went to back to my house and dug out some of the Colonel’s old clothes—”

Caburn was watching Anna. Her eyes were at half-mast, her left hand
propping up her chin, her right holding the coffee cup under her nose. “She’s not hearing a word you’re saying, Miss Lila. She’s still asleep.”

“Poor thing. She’s had a terrible, terrible loss, and been though more than a body ought at her age. This is too much for her, I think.”

Caburn wasn’t seeing a ‘poor thing’. Anna’s dark, silky hair shot every which way, her eyes were smoky with left-over sleep, and her robe was gaping open to reveal two buttons missing on her pajamas. He was seeing a woman he’d like to wake up to every morning. The view down her pajama top was world-class incredible.

Lila caught him looking and rolled her eyes. She put bacon and toast in front of Caburn. “You naughty, naughty, boy,” she whispered
.

Caburn’s ears flamed.

After a third cup of coffee, Anna came alive. “I forgot all about your party, Lila. I can cook the chicken for you, but I don’t have a thing to wear.”

Lila gaped. “That is the first time I’ve heard those words out of your mouth in all the years I’ve known you,” she said.

Anna gathered her thoughts, recalling that both Caburn and Lila had left the night before when she and Helen had discovered the disaster in her bedroom—Caburn in the ambulance and Lila home to bed. “There’s a reason, other than vanity, believe me,” Anna told her. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

With Lila and Caburn on her heels, she opened her bedroom door, flipped on the light and stood aside. She felt Caburn crowding against the length of her back. She started to move out of his path, but changed her mind. Had he put his arms around her at that moment, Anna would’ve happily melted into him. She heard his breath catch.

“That is some bad juju,” he said quietly as his eyes swept the room.

“God-a-mighty,” exclaimed Lila. “It smells like a mustard factory in there. Oh, Anna, your beautiful room
and all of your lovely clothes—”

“This is what
Clara-Alice was up to while I was in the basement,” Anna said, feeling the violation anew. Prickles of anger blended with the prickles of intense sensation she felt at Caburn’s warmth against her back. He put his large hands on her shoulders and turned her away from the room.

“We’ll make this right, Anna,” he told her. She heard the anger and dismay in his voice.

“You know what,” Lila said, as they returned to the kitchen. “I’ve got two superb cleaning machines in my kitchen this very minute. I’m going home and talk to them. What do you say, Anna? Will it be okay with you if Clarence and JoJo come over?”

“It would be very okay, Lila. I’d be stupid to refuse help when I’m so overwhelmed with everything.”

Caburn knew at once that in the face of women’s work, even if Clarence was not—he was superfluous. He got on the kitchen telephone and called Helen.

When she answered the phone he ran her up the clothesline which was Kansas lingo for subjecting her to a rant.

“You’re feeling better, then,” Helen said.

“No, I’m not. I’m worse. I’m in extremis. I’m dying. Bring me my jacket, Helen. My car keys and house keys are in the pocket.”

“I’m invited to the dinner party, Frank. Can’t you wait? It’s not like you’re standing on street corner freezing your lovely tight buns off.”

Caburn looked around the kitchen
, he was alone. “Your
tenants
are here, Helen.”

“They don’t bite, Frank. I mean
—not unless you pay them to. Now listen, I’ll be there around four or so. Meanwhile, make yourself useful. You’re the man on the scene. See if you can find Nesmith’s calendars, diaries—whatever. Anna said we could look. Oh. By the way. Anna still doesn’t know the Ellicott City end of things. Albert was going to tell her last night, but Anna sort of collapsed when we told her about Nesmith. We had the psychiatrist, Dr Neal, in to talk to her. So, keep mum on that, unless you think you can handle the fallout. Anna has an appointment with Dr Neal on Wednesday. Albert thinks that’d be the time to tell her.”

Caburn wanted to reach through the phone and wring Helen’s neck. “You and Albert are really doing a number on this girl.”

“Nesmith did the number, Frank. We’re just cleaning up behind him. You need to focus on the job. Stay sensible. You know what I mean.”

“I am focused on the job.”

“Really?” Helen hung up.

Caburn was rooting in the kitchen cabinets for a light bulb when Anna returned wearing the same clothes she’d worn the day before.

“What are you looking for?”

“A light bulb for the basement. Maybe Nesmith’s calendars are in the file cabinet you mentioned.”

Nesmith—not ‘
your husband’
. Well, she didn’t have a husband anymore, did she? “Will a flashlight do? There’s one in that drawer by the dishwasher, and batteries, too.”

“That will work.” He looked her over. She wore no makeup, and had pulled her hair into a ponytail. Her face was pale, her expression resolute yet vulnerable. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you this past week. How are you feeling this morning?”

“You sound like Dr Neal. I think I’m doing okay. I’m trying to get my mind around the fact that I’m a widow, and everything that entails. Planning a funeral, writing an obituary... It’s as if I’m outside of myself, looking in. I keep thinking I need to write a to-do list. But where do I start?”

“In bad times my mom always says
, ‘we’ll get through this one cheerful minute at a time.’ Anticipate something nice.”

“At a time like this? Something nice?”

“Sure. Like living your life for yourself. Shopping for something fancy. Women like to shop—or going dancing.”

“Dancing?” Anna looked askance at him from beneath her lashes. “Do you dance?”

He smiled with lascivious glee. “After three beers I do a mean Cotton-eyed Joe. After four, I just do a sort of herky-jerky.”

“In other words, you make a fool of yourself.”

Caburn frowned. “There you go. One cheerful minute at my expense.”

“Maybe your mom is onto something.”

The back door swung open, allowing in a burst of cold air along with Lila, Clarence and JoJo. Caburn issued a greeting over his shoulder as he made a rapid exit into the basement. As Lila had said, he was zipped into a white paper suit, his hair wrapped in a cotton scarf, rubber gloves, and sure enough, he had blue paper booties on his feet. JoJo wore her purple hair, jeans, a sweater, and an apron.

Lila led them to Anna’s bedroom.

“Holy moly!” exclaimed Clarence as he waded into the mess. “This place smells like hotdogs.” He began issuing orders and within ten minutes had everything and everyone organized.

Sheets were laid out on the dining room floor, one for
a pile of clothes that could be dry-cleaned, one for clothes that could not be saved, and one for washables. Away from Clarence, JoJo was a chatterbox, telling Anna about their lives, their work. Every five minutes or so, Clarence sucked up feathers with the vacuum, but most were escape artists. Anna kept the washer and dryer going and eventually she had a change of clean jeans, a cotton knit T and clean underwear. She called a time out so that she could bathe.

Maybe fate would throw in a cheerful minute later, but for the moment Anna was satisfie
d to be clean, fresh, hair blow-dried and wearing enough blush that she didn’t look so winter pale. The physical labor in sorting clothes, running the washer, and folding clothes acted as a kind of catharsis. She had no family, but she had good friends, old and new, to help her. She admitted to herself that she had not always been happy in her marriage, but she had been able to live around it. Her life had changed in unimaginable ways, but it wasn’t over. She was in the early stages of a new beginning.