Songs in Ordinary Time (107 page)

Grondine Carson was out of jail. He wanted to sell the pig farm and move to Florida with Jozia, but she had told him last night that she couldn’t go.

Her brother needed her. When Carson offered to have Howard come, too, she said that would never work. Howard hated new things too much.

Howard had been listening at his bedroom door when Carson came and knocked on it. At first he had pretended to be asleep when Carson called in and asked him to go for a ride in his pickup so they could talk man-to-man. But then he thought of all the bad things that might happen if he stayed in there. The worst would have been Jozia going for a ride with him and changing her mind. He could tell she was nervous when they left, but no matter what Carson said, he never weakened. Nothing, not a room in their trailer or the promise of his own, would change his mind. Actually, he would have lived anywhere to be with Jozia, but she was afraid of the pigman now. The police could search for Omar Duvall until the end of time, but she would never feel safe with a man who not only had been accused of murder but had shot her own brother. Besides, Helen LaChance had promised to double Jozia’s pay if she’d come back, an offer Jozia was considering now that Sam Fermoyle was going away again.

“Good morning, Howard,” called Father O’Riordan as he came softly along the path. The shy young curate was not having an easy time of it with the Monsignor, who wanted him to be more forceful and outgoing. Yesterday Howard had overheard the Monsignor talking on the phone to the Bishop about Father O’Riordan’s whisper. “People are always asking, ‘What did he say?’” the Monsignor complained. “I have to read his lips!”

“That’s a fine job you’re doing, Howard,” the new priest said as Howard drew his rag up and down the marble bodice. Even with his back turned, Howard had no problem hearing him. “Splendid statue. An exquisite work of art, isn’t it?” The priest sighed. “The sculptor has certainly captured the essence of the Blessed Mother’s spirit.”

A pool of dirty water was forming around Mary’s feet, leaving slivers of dirt between her toes. As the priest continued to talk, Howard scrubbed. It was time to rinse, but he was trapped here. “She is a beautiful, beautiful woman, don’t you think?” Father O’Riordan said with a sigh.

As soon as he was gone Howard turned on the hose and began to rinse the statue. Water ran down her cheeks and gown. As he walked round the statue, spraying it from side to side, he realized just how beautiful she was, tall as Jozia, with the same long fingers and slender feet. He tried to imagine what Jozia might be doing right now. When he’d left this morning she was taking all of the Infant’s clothes out to wash them. She was probably ironing 524 / MARY MCGARRY MORRIS

them now, and then she would fold and wrap them in tissue paper before putting them back in their bureau.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the Fermoyles’ front door open. Sam Fermoyle came out first. He looked away from the bright sun. At the bottom of the steps he raised his head and tugged at his shirt collar. Next came Renie LaChance. Both men wore suits and ties, but Sam’s suit was baggy and the pants were short on him. They got into Renie’s new car and drove away.

Howard and Jozia were going to see Perda next Saturday. He had already started planning their lunch and collecting presents for everyone in the ward, but he felt bad because Jozia never wanted to talk about the trip. He turned off the hose. There was still grime in the hem of Mary’s gown. As he scrubbed, his fingers lingered on her cold wet toes and his eyes widened with happiness, because he knew once they were on that bus Jozia would get right into the swing of things again.

T
hey had packed the car last night so the morning would be calm. Alice was still up in her room. She was nervous, and Marie was determined that nothing would go wrong on her first day of college. Marie had baked a loaf of banana bread last night and mended her skirt. She didn’t know what mothers were supposed to wear when they took their child to college.

“Whatever you want,” Alice said every time she asked. So in the end she had settled on her brown work skirt and a new navy-blue sweater that didn’t really go with the skirt, but it had been marked way down. Mr. Briscoe had given her the day off, but she was going to make up the time on Sunday.

Losing a day’s pay would be a disaster right now.

It would be good to get out of town for a few hours, away from all the stares and whispering that Marie Fermoyle had taken up with a con man and murderer. Chief Stoner had come every night for the past week, asking such asinine questions that last night she wouldn’t let him inside.

“Please!” he had said, adding quickly, “I mean, if you don’t mind. It won’t take much time.”

She did mind. She didn’t want to talk about Omar Duvall anymore. She had told him as much as she could. She hoped they never found him, because she didn’t want him back here. She didn’t want the ordeal of a trial. She never wanted to see the man again as long as she lived.

“I can understand that,” Sonny had said. “Especially when you’ve been so close to someone like that.”

“We had a business arrangement,” she had said, drawing herself up so stiffly that her neck still ached.

“Of course,” he had said, too quickly, his face reddening in a way that confused her.

“Alice!” she called now from the bottom of the stairs. “Come down and eat.” Marie didn’t want her last breakfast here rushed. Everything in these last twenty-four hours had been too tinged with finality—the dry cough from Alice’s bedroom in the middle of the night, the scent of shampoo and SONGS IN ORDINARY TIME / 525

baby powder drifting by the door, the ratcheting squeak of the ironing board as she set it up in her bedroom. “Alice!” she called again, then suddenly buried her face in her hands, whispering, “Oh God, help me! Help me! Help me!” What was wrong? She had been looking forward to this day for months, for years, and suddenly she was terrified. “Alice! Can you hear me?”
It will
be like this
, she thought, listening for footsteps or her voice and hearing nothing. Soon enough, there would be days and nights long after they had gone when she would do this—call out for one of them, then listen, knowing full well no one would come. But she would have the satisfaction of their strength and their success. That would make it all worthwhile. Yes, she vowed, that would be enough.

Klubocks’ puppy began to bark. A car was pulling into the driveway.

“Goddamn that Sonny,” she muttered, hurrying into the kitchen. Well, this was it. From now on, if he wanted to talk, he could call.

“Hello, Marie,” Sam said when she opened the door. “I just wanted to say goodbye to Alice.” His face was a shocking red, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose mottled with blistery broken blood vessels. His thin yellow-tinged hand trembled as he held out a small white box tied with red ribbon. “This is for her.”

From the next step down, Renie grinned up at the two of them.

“You should have called,” she said. “We’re running late as it is.”

“Well, I…I was going to.” He swallowed hard and shook his head, and, in the old way of knowing, she understood how for days he had wanted to, planned to, tried to, but then could not bring himself to even lift the phone, much less make the commitment.

“We just thought we’d stop,” Renie explained. “On our way to Waterbury.

I’m riding Sam up. He’s going to stay awhile. The state hospital. He called and made himself all the arrangements,” Renie said with a proud nod at Sam, whose modest grin saddened and wearied her.

“We can only stay a minute,” Renie said. “Sam’s got a nine-o’clock appointment.”

She invited them in, and they sat at the table. Renie couldn’t stop smiling.

“That there Bendix is quite a machine,” she heard him telling Sam as she hurried up to get Alice. She’d be down when she was ready, she called from her room; and at her sovereign tone, Marie’s hand shot to the doorknob.

No. She would be patient. Today there would be no outbursts. She came down and sat at the table with them. Renie’s eyes gleamed as he ate banana bread and bragged about the store. Mr. Cushing was turning the entire second floor over to Renie’s housewares department. A lot of the old managers were jealous, but Mr. Cushing said they were all a bunch of crones and Renie wasn’t to worry because it was time for new blood and new ideas.

“And that’s one good thing about me. I always have new ideas,” Renie was saying.

Sam drank a glassful of water. He kept glancing up at the clock. There were sores on his mouth and his knuckles were scabbed. She tried not to look at the pulsing blue vein in his right temple. Cushing’s was already 526 / MARY MCGARRY MORRIS

planning their Christmas promotion. “A Winter Wonderland of Value,”

Renie said, eating the crumbs from his napkin. He helped himself to a third slice.

Sam was biting his lip. He kept taking deep breaths, then gulping when he tried to swallow.

“There’s going to be a Santa Claus on every floor, and not only that, but out in the parking lot, real reindeer. Well, for the opening day, that is. That’s going to be really something! You ever seen a real reindeer?” he asked Marie.

“Well, yes. Deer, they’re all around in the woods.” She didn’t dare look at Sam.

“Oh!” Renie nodded. “Oh yah. That’s right. Reindeer, they’re like deer, the same, huh? I don’t know, I was thinking they weren’t really real, I guess, because of Rudolph and Santa Claus.”

She and Sam looked at each other.

“Ain’t he something?” Sam said, chuckling. “That’s why I’m on my way to the nuthouse. Renie! He finally did it. He pushed me over the edge.”

“No, now tell her the real reason, Sam.” Renie smiled at her. “Sam’s made up his mind. He doesn’t ever want to drink again. And this time he means it.”

“That’s right,” Sam said with his wry half-smile. “This time I mean it.

Not like last time, or the time before that, or all those other times.” He was still looking at her. “Believe me, this time I mean it.” He closed his eyes and laughed. “Oh do I ever!”

She studied a jagged hangnail.

“I think that’s great, just great.” Renie patted Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t you?” he asked, but she had gotten up to see what was keeping Alice. She ran upstairs again and opened the door. Alice was sitting on her bed reading a book. She was dressed in her new olive-green corduroy dress. “What are you doing?” And the minute she said it, she knew the answer. “He has to leave. He only has a few minutes.”

“I’ll be right down,” Alice said, without looking up. “Tell him I’m almost ready.”

Sam and Renie had said goodbye and were on their way out the door when Alice finally came downstairs.

“Oh don’t you look beautiful,” Renie said, holding out his arms when he saw her, then quickly hugged himself.

“I wanted to say goodbye, pet, and wish you good luck,” Sam said. He handed her the box.

“She’s gonna love them,” Renie told Marie as Alice opened the box.

“Thank you,” Alice said with a nervous little laugh. “They’re beautiful.”

“Look close,” Renie said, reaching to take the fountain pen from the box.

“See on this hook thing here, it’s got your initials. AMF in that old English.

Both pens got it. Real classy, huh?”

“Yes.” Alice smiled at him. “Thank you, Uncle Renie.”

SONGS IN ORDINARY TIME / 527

“Oh don’t thank me. Thank your dad here. He’s the one giving you such a nice present. Me, I’m only the driver here.”

Alice smiled.

“That’s the troot!” Renie said. “I mean, the troot. The truth.”

“Aw she knows, Renie,” Sam said with a sad chuckle. “My little girl knows all about me, don’t you, pet?” He pulled her close and hugged her, looking over her head at Marie. “I just want you to know how proud I am.

I’m so proud of you,” he said, looking at Marie, who stared back at him.

Marie had taken two wrong turns and had ended up ten miles from campus.

“What time is it?” she asked again.

“Eleven-twenty,” Alice said.

“Oh God.” She drove so fast the car began to shimmy.

Alice’s dorm was on Redstone campus, about a mile from the main campus. The circular road was backed up, so they waited in the long line of idling cars. Ahead, in front of the dorms, mothers and fathers were unloading their station wagons, carrying in suitcases and trunks. Boxes, pictures, and bulletin boards were stacked on the walkways. Alice’s things were in grocery bags, which Marie thought would be easier to manage than boxes. She hadn’t considered all these people seeing them carrying in paper bags.

“Two Gypsies, that’s what we’ll look like,” she muttered, but Alice didn’t say anything. The line was moving ahead. Alice had mentioned a trunk, but Marie had said no, and now she could see that everyone had trunks.

Damn it, why did she always give in so easily? If she wanted a trunk, why not make sure she got one? If she couldn’t pull something as simple as that off, how the hell was she going to make it on her own?

“There’s no place to park,” Alice said as they inched closer to the dorms.

“That’s because we’re late, damn it. You should have come right down when I told you your father was there.”

“We’re not late.”

“Oh, okay! Then why can’t we find a parking spot?”

“Because they all got here early,” Alice said, her eyes darting at everyone.

“Story of my life!” Marie sighed. “A day late and a dollar short.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

Alice stared out the window. “I don’t believe it. I’m the only one in a dress.”

“Well, don’t blame me. That was your decision.”

“I know that, Mom. I’m not blaming you,” Alice said, glancing at her.

The bottleneck was caused by a large panel truck parked in front of the second dorm. It blocked part of the narrow road.

“God,” Marie said as a car ahead stopped and all four doors flew open.

Four girls jumped out, and instead of waiting for a parking space they ran around to unload the trunk. Marie watched a group of women greeting one 528 / MARY MCGARRY MORRIS

another on the sidewalk. “Look at all the mothers. They’re all so dressed up.” She felt drab and small and sweaty.