The Handyman's Dream (15 page)

Norma was at the stove, stirring a steaming pot. Her Merle Norman makeup was perfectly applied, and she was wearing her company apron. Ed’s eyebrows rose, surprised that she seemed to be turning the meal into an occasion.

She looked up. “Well! This must the Rick I keep hearing about.” She slammed a pot lid and turned to face them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stephens.” Rick smiled at her.

“Oh, just plain Norma will do. Don’t even try any of that Eddie Haskell nonsense on me. I always hated that kid. ‘How lovely you look today, Mrs. Cleaver.’ June didn’t fall for it and neither do I.” She narrowed her eyes, looking Rick over. “So. Ed tells me you’re a mailman. Probably been on your feet all day. Go sit down. This’ll be a while. Ed, get him something to drink. I’m too busy.” She looked at Ed’s empty hands. “Didn’t you bring anything? What did I tell you? Well, that’s that. You’re stuck with water. Ed, get the man a glass of water. Pour yourself one, too. Honestly.”

Rick retreated to the living room. Ed moved over to the refrigerator.

“Edward,” Norma whispered, catching his arm. “He has a beard.”

Ed sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

Once they were seated at the dining room table, Ed reflected on how many meals he had eaten at that very table in his life, Laurie sitting across from him, his father at the head of the table, his mother at the foot. Now he sat in his usual chair, and Rick sat across from him in Laurie’s old place. After Tim Stephens had died, Norma had moved herself to the head of the table, which was only appropriate, as she’d always considered herself the head of the family anyway.

Norma was giving Rick the third degree, and Rick was performing beautifully, giving pleasant and polite answers to her questions. He was even eating the lima beans, and Ed happened to know that Rick hated lima beans.

“So, Rick,” she said, spooning more mashed potatoes for herself. “What do you think of Reagan winning the election?”

It was a trap, Ed thought, glad he had warned Rick.

“It’s a damned shame, Norma. God only knows where we’ll be in four years.”

“Well, if that isn’t the truth.” Norma snorted. “Probably halfway to hell in a handcart.”

“I understand you’re a big Dallas fan,” Rick said, pushing lima beans around on his plate. “Ed told me you predicted it was Kristin who shot J. R. That’s pretty good. I thought it was Alan.”

“Any fool would have figured that out,” Norma huffed. Her eyes narrowed at Rick. “Why on earth do you have all that hair on your face? Gillette invented razors for a reason, you know.”

Ed almost choked on his pork chop. Rick blushed.

“Well, I like it,” Rick mumbled, then regained his composure. “Actually my mother likes it, too.”

“Oh, she does not. She’s just saying that to spare your feelings and her own embarrassment. No mother wants to see a beard on her son. Why, that mustache of Ed’s is bad enough. If he grew a beard, I’d cut him out of the will.”

“Mom,” Ed said. “A lot of men have been growing facial hair in the last ten years or so. There’s not a thing wrong with it.”

“Fools, all of them.” Norma shook her head. She looked at Rick and changed the subject. Again. “So, Rick, I understand you’re in Porterfield with your sister. She married that worthless Hank Romanowski? Is that right?”

“Yes,” said Rick warily.

“That’s a shame, just a shame.” She shook her head. “Well, I guess there are those who make those kind of mistakes. I’m sure your sister is a good woman in spite of it. I just feel bad for those poor kids. I just hope we don’t see their faces on ‘wanted’ posters in that post office of yours someday.”

Rick put his fork down, color once again rising in his cheeks. Ed held his breath. He suspected Norma had really stepped on a landmine this time.

“Now look here,” Rick said calmly. “If you are trying to imply that my nieces and nephew are going to turn out to be criminals because their worthless, son of a bitch of a father ran out on them, you’ve got another think coming, lady.” He glared at her. “My sister is doing her best in a bad situation, and I’m doing my best to help her raise three good kids. And they’re going to turn out just fine, if I have anything to say about it.”

Norma drew back a bit. “Well, you don’t have to get so huffy about it.”

“I think maybe I do,” Rick said, calm voice restored. “I’ve been doing my best to be nice, avoiding the potshots you’ve been taking at me all evening.” He looked at his plate. “I’m even eating these damned lima beans. And I hate ’em!”

Rick glared at Norma, and she glared back at him. Finally a smile twitched at Norma’s lips. “Well,” she said. “Nothing wrong with a man standing up for his family.” She smiled full-out at Rick. “Oh, scrape those beans off your plate, Rick. For Pete’s sake, you don’t have to eat them on my account. Do you want some more potatoes?” She offered the bowl to him.

Rick looked at her in surprise. Then he smiled as well. “Thanks. Yes, I’d like some more.”

Ed stared at them both. I don’t believe it, he thought. I just don’t believe it. “Well,” he finally said, wracking his brain for something to say. “Think it’ll snow before Thanksgiving?”

“Oh, Ed,” his mother scolded. “Calm down. There’s nothing wrong over here—is there, Rick?”

“Not a thing,” Rick said, smiling back at her.

Ed noticed the respect growing between them, and perhaps even a friendship as well.

“Eat up, boys,” Norma commanded. “There’s certainly plenty. I like to see a man with a healthy appetite, except for that Ted Gillis who used to hang around here. That boy had a little too much appetite. What ever did happen to him? Oh, who cares. I never liked him anyway. So, you two. I suppose Rick will be moving into that house of yours, Ed. Do I need to put him on my Christmas list?”

This time they both choked on their pork chops.

“Mom!” Ed sputtered. “Whatever makes you say a thing like that? Geez.”

Norma Stephens rose from the table. Hands on hips, she looked right at Ed. “Edward Stephens. You’re twenty-eight years old. You haven’t had a girlfriend since high school. I may be a big pain in your bee-hind, but I’m not stupid.” Another smile twitched her face. “Now. Who wants coffee?” she asked as she headed for the kitchen.

Ed and Rick stared at each other across the table, open-mouthed.

“How ’bout that,” Rick finally said, taking a sip of water. “She may be a big pain in your bee-hind, but she’s certainly full of surprises.”

“I said, who wants coffee?” Norma barked from the kitchen.

“I do,” Rick called back. He looked at Ed, gesturing for him to go to the kitchen.

Ed slowly got to his feet. Feeling empty-handed, he grabbed the lima bean bowl and carried it to the kitchen.

“I don’t want any. You know I don’t drink coffee, Mom.”

Norma, her back to him, was plugging in her old coffeepot. “It’s about time you did,” she grumbled. “It’s time you grew up and drank what adults drink.”

“Okay then. Pour a cup for me, too,” he said, clutching the lima bean bowl.

She turned to look at him. “Oh, honestly. Put that bowl down somewhere before you break it.”

Ed placed it on the counter. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said, her back to him once again.

“You mean you know I’m sorry about the lima beans, or I’m sorry about—”

“I know what you’re sorry about, Ed. Don’t waste your time.” She turned around to face him, a scowl on her face. “I knew this day was coming, so there’s no reason for you to get all upset.”

Ed put one hand on the counter for support. “How’d you know, Mom?”

Norma sighed, the scowl disappearing, replaced with a look of sadness. She put the lid back on the coffee jar, twisting it tight with great care.

“Eddie,” she said, using his father’s name for him, “your father and I had a talk about you not long before he died. I kept wondering when you were going to find a girl and get married, and your father finally told me he didn’t think you would ever get married. I didn’t know what he meant, then he told me what he’d begun to think about you. I was furious with him for even suggesting such a thing, but he reminded me, as he always did with you kids, that it wasn’t our place to judge, but our job to stand behind you.”

Ed clutched the counter. He felt unable to move. “You mean, Dad knew?”

“He suspected. After I calmed down, I began to think about it, and what he also said around that time, that he didn’t care if we had any more grandchildren, as long as you were happy. He said that if you were . . . were different, his only hope was that you’d find someone who would make you happy and take care of you, so he wouldn’t have to worry about you being alone.”

Ed felt tears come to his eyes. “Dad really said that?”

“Yes, he did. After he died so sudden, I knew it would be up to me to face whatever happened with you.” She paused, looking at the coffee jar. “I don’t know, Ed. I was raised to believe this isn’t right, but then I look at some of the so-called righteous in this town, sinning left and right, and I remember what your father said. It’s not up to me to judge. I just need to be your mother and support you. That’s what your father would do if he was here. And I’ve no doubt that he would like Rick. A part of me wants to throw him out of the house, but another part of me wants to thank him, because it looks like he’s making you happy.”

“He is, Mom,” Ed whispered.

Norma opened a cabinet door to put away the coffee jar. “I’m still not quite comfortable with this, you know. I can only imagine what some people in this town would say, but I guess they don’t have to know what’s what. But I’m your mother, and you’re my son. Despite what I might say, you’re a good son, and you always have been. If this is what you want, I’ll stand by you.

“That Rick better watch his step, though,” she added, sounding more like herself. “I’ll be watching him!”

Ed felt relieved laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I think he knows that, Mom, believe me.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, get out my kitchen,” she barked. “You know I can’t stand to see a grown man cry. Go tell Rick his coffee will be ready in a minute. And, Ed, you don’t have to drink any if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, looking at her through blurry eyes.

* * * * *

Norma walked them both to the door an hour later. “Shoo, shoo.” She waved her hands toward the door. “I might as well turn on the TV and see who’s on that fool love boat this week.”

Rick paused in putting on his jacket. “Thanks again, Norma. I really enjoyed it, even the lima beans.” He laughed, but then added solemnly, “I want you to know I care about your son very much, and I’ll do whatever I need to make sure he, and you, both know that.”

Ed blushed bright red, wondering how Norma would react to that. “Aw, Rick.”

“Oh, hush up, Ed,” Norma commanded. “He’s just saying what any good potential son-in-law would say.” She shook her head. “Another son-in-law. And with a beard, too! Your father may not be turning in his grave, but the ground where mine’ll be is churning. Oh, well. At least I’ve got someone else to cook for now.”

“You can cook for me anytime, Norma,” Rick said, his “warm and tender special” on his face.

Ed looked at them both, wondering just who was in charge of miracles and why they’d screwed up and given him two in such a short period of time. Whoever it was, he thought, he owed them one hell of a thank-you note.

Chapter Ten

Ed was riding the Ferris wheel at the Stratton County fair, although the fair seemed to be taking place in his backyard instead of the fairgrounds. A cotton candy stand was near the garage, and his oak tree had been replaced by the Rock-o-Planes. He thought about going on the Rock-o-Planes, but it appeared people were falling out when the egg-shaped cars flipped upside down. He thought he saw his mother pitching hoops at the cigarette game, and his dad was eating a foot-long hotdog, talking with Don Hoffmeyer, the Porterfield postmaster.

He looked for Rick, but didn’t see him. Suddenly his dad appeared on the Ferris wheel, in the seat above him, shouting to get his attention. He told Ed he had been talking to Don, and Don had told him Rick was going to Bulgaria as part of a postal exchange program behind the Iron Curtain.

“Does that mean I get a Bulgarian boyfriend?” Ed hollered up at him, but his dad opened his seat’s safety bar, then climbed down the side of the wheel to finish his conversation with Don.

Ed shouted at the ride operator that he wanted to get off, but the ride guy said he couldn’t find Ed’s ticket. The wheel began to revolve, and Ed thought he saw Rick standing in line for the Octopus, but it turned out to be Kenny Rogers singing “Lady.” Ed, blinking in surprise, suddenly found himself in his bedroom, looking at his chest of drawers, while Kenny Rogers blared from the clock radio.

“Geez,” Ed muttered, reaching out to silence Kenny. He shook his head, trying to shake the remnants of the dream out of his head. “Dr. Freud, wherever you are, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know what that was all about.”

He yawned, scratching his head. “What a way to start the day.” He pushed back the covers. “Kenny Rogers instead of Rick. Yuck.”

It was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, and he had set the alarm to remind himself to stop by Hilda Penfield’s before his usual Tuesday morning with Mrs. Heston. Mrs. Penfield had called late the night before, apologizing for bothering him, but she had a bit of a problem with her refrigerator, and could he come take a look at it?

Ed sighed his way through breakfast, groaned and cussed in the shower, and scowled at his face while shaving. He was in a piss-poor mood and wanted to get the worst of it out before he saw anyone. He knew what the trouble was. He was going through Rick withdrawal.

He had intended to spend Thanksgiving being properly grateful for his recent blessings, but the Fates that had been so kind recently seemed to withdraw their support. While Rick had spent the holiday in Indianapolis with his parents, Claire, and her children, Ed passed a dull and rather uncomfortable afternoon at Laurie’s, keeping an eye on his mother and making feeble attempts at conversation with Todd’s parents and younger brother. Norma had little use for Eunice Ames, Todd’s mother, who had subtly inferred on past occasions that she felt her son had married beneath his social station. Ed didn’t much like her either, but at Laurie’s anxious request, he’d done his best to run interference between the two women while the other men watched football.

The rest of the weekend had been equally uninspiring. Rick, with no seniority at the post office, had to work Friday and Saturday, and the time they could have spent together was preempted by plans made before they met each other, including another round trip to Indianapolis for Rick to attend a holiday party with his parents, and Ed’s job to act as chauffeur for Mrs. Heston, who was visiting family in South Bend. When Rick was available, he was tired from work and driving and wanted little more than uninterrupted sleep. Ed had understood, but pessimistically wondered if a pattern was being set for the holidays to come.

It was sprinkling as he set out for Mrs. Penfield’s, and officially raining as he pulled into her driveway.

“Oh, great,” he said, slamming the truck door. “I get to haul groceries in the rain today.”

He trotted to the back door, trying to dodge the cold drops. Mrs. Penfield immediately answered his impatient knock.

“Weather got you down, Ed?” she asked archly, always an expert at discerning his moods.

“Yeah,” Ed muttered, inspecting the refrigerator. He quickly found the problem, an evaporation motor gone bad. “I’ll stop by Ripley’s Appliance when I’m through with Mrs. Heston. They’re pretty good about letting me raid their parts department. I’m sure they’ll have a replacement motor. I’ll try to get it installed before lunch. Don’t worry about your food. I know it’s not very cold in there, but it’ll keep for a few more hours.”

Mrs. Penfield beamed at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ed. Thanks so much for taking care of this for me.”

Ed felt his first smile of the day creep onto his face. It was good to be appreciated.

“How is your Rick these days?” she asked, handing him a mug of tea. Ed, who disliked coffee, found tea an acceptable substitution.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He sipped the comfortingly hot beverage. “I haven’t seen much of him. I s’pose this is one of those times when I have to be strong, like you said. Between families and jobs, we can’t seem to connect these days.”

Mrs. Penfield slowly lowered herself to a kitchen chair. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’re still at the beginning, and it takes a while to establish patterns for the holidays. Also,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “you’re still in the wonderful phase of feeling that every separation is an eternity. That will pass soon enough, so enjoy the feeling while it lasts.”

Ed sighed. “I know. I’ve told myself that. Actually, I was invited to Indianapolis for Thanksgiving, but I decided Mom’s orbit had been rocked enough already without me leaving town over a family holiday.”

“Ah, so she’s aware of your relationship with Rick,” Mrs. Penfield said, obviously pleased. “I’m glad. That’s one less burden for you.”

“Yeah. She’s being pretty cool about it, considering,” Ed said gratefully, “but I didn’t want to make a big deal over Thanksgiving while she’s still getting used to the whole thing. Besides, Laurie would have killed me. I had to spend the day sending Mom and Mrs. Ames to their corners. Mom’s hated her since she told a few of her snob friends that she thought Todd and Laurie’s wedding was tacky.”

Mrs. Penfield rolled her eyes heavenward. “Eunice Ames. Such a dreadful social climber. The years she spent on the school board were among my most difficult at Porterfield High. I sympathize completely with Norma. We won’t even discuss the grief she routinely gave George about legal matters,” she said, referring to her late husband’s law practice. “I’m just glad to see you don’t seem to be incurring any in-law problems.”

“Oh, no. As I said, Mom’s being great for Mom, and the Bentons want to meet me. They’re teachers, too, by the way. Oh,” Ed said, putting down his mug. “I forgot. Rick wanted me to thank you for those books. He’d like to meet you sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Mrs. Penfield said with a smile. “I understand this is a busy time of the year, but if the two of you can spare some time, do stop by before Christmas.”

“I’ll try.” Ed looked at his watch. “Right now, though, I have a date with Mrs. Heston and a grocery list.”

Mrs. Heston’s grocery list for the week was thankfully short, and she spent their time together repeatedly thanking Ed for his chauffeuring duties over the weekend, which went far in relieving his bad mood. He managed to install Mrs. Penfield’s new refrigerator motor before lunch and was home in time to meet Rick as usual.

“Oh, I needed that,” Rick whispered after an extended kiss just inside Ed’s front door. “Although I sometimes wonder if the people who live east of you on Coleman Street wonder why their mail seems to be arriving later than it used to.”

“Let ’em wait,” Ed said heartlessly. “I don’t get to see nearly enough of you.”

“Hell,” Rick said, chuckling. “I don’t even have any mail for you today.”

Ed was so pleased to be this close to Rick, he found himself acting a bit more aggressively than he usually allowed himself to be at that time of day.

Rick moaned happily in response, but said, “Aw, c’mon, baby. Cut that out. I love it, but I don’t want to finish my route with a hard-on.”

“Well, let me finish what I started, and believe me, that hard-on will be gone before you leave the house.”

Rick sighed. “I wish.”

Ed reluctantly let Rick go. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Just come back tonight and we can do whatever we want. Think of it as a coming attraction.”

Rick looked troubled. “Uh, baby . . . I can’t come over tonight. I promised Claire I’d stay with the kids while she goes to a birthday party for the other dental hygienist at the office.” He pulled Ed back to him. “Tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” Ed said, trying hard not to look disappointed.

Rick adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’ll call you tonight after the kids are in bed. We’ll make some plans for tomorrow, okay?”

Ed nodded. Rick turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to Ed, kissing him. “I love you, baby.”

Ed kissed him back. “I love you, too.” He slapped Rick’s ass. “Now go back to work before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Ed paused at the door as he did most every day, watching Rick resume his mail route, shoulders hunched a bit in the drizzle. Ed knew he was being childish, but he found himself resenting three children across town. He suspected that his gratitude at having Rick in his life was becoming tinged with greed. Now that he and Rick were established, he wanted Rick all to himself.

The past month had been among the finest in his life, but he couldn’t help wanting more than Rick could offer at this time. Ed stopped that train of thought and began to mentally count his blessings. He had found the man of his dreams, not in San Francisco or New York or some other glamorous city, but right here in Porterfield, Indiana, population nine thousand, and literally right on his doorstep. Not only was the man of his dreams as crazy about Ed as Ed was about him, but Rick was warm, kind, funny, and smart, not to mention a handsome man, a great kisser, and an even better lover. Rick took his job responsibilities seriously, and was equally responsible when it came to his sister and her three children. Ed did not need to be told how rare that was in any man, let alone a gay one.

Ed sighed, the lyrics of Chicago’s melancholy “Wishing You Were Here” going through his mind. He imagined Rick instead of Peter Cetera singing about being away from home because of a job he had to do.

“I’m a pig,” Ed whispered to himself. “I’ve been handed the biggest dream I’ve ever had, and I still want more. I oughta be ashamed.”

He was ashamed, and vowed to be more understanding of Rick’s commitments, no matter how much he wanted to feel otherwise.

* * * * *

Rick came over the next night, and Ed did indeed finish what he had started the day before. He had Rick undressed and in bed minutes after he had arrived. A noisy, passionate lovemaking session followed, and when all their itches had been thoroughly scratched, they lay next to each, quietly enjoying the afterglow.

“Damn,” Rick said, reaching for Ed’s hand. “What’s that old Foreigner song? ‘Feels Like the First Time’? It still does, baby, with you.”

“Well, I’m glad to know that you haven’t gotten tired of me after a little more than a month.”

Rick stretched expansively, pulling Ed closer to him. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen for quite a while. I tell you, though, I almost wished I smoked after something like that.”

“How about something to drink?” Ed asked, rolling toward the side of the bed.

“Not now.” Rick pulled him back. “It can wait. I don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he teased, giving Ed a kiss.

Ed curled up next to him. “This is so nice.”

Rick stared at the ceiling, his brow creased in thought. “Yes, it is.” He turned to Ed. “About last night—”

Ed put his hand over Rick’s mouth. “Don’t even worry about it.”

“But I do worry about it,” Rick said, pushing Ed’s hand away. “It’s not fair. I mean, if I spend all the time with you that I want, I feel like I’m neglecting the kids. And vice versa. And believe me, the last thing I ever want you to feel is neglected.”

“Darlin’, the last thing I feel right now is neglected. I didn’t feel neglected last night either. I’m just so grateful to have found you. Why, just think, what we have is probably more than some guys ever get.”

“Still, I wish there was some way I could, you know, kinda incorporate my life a little more. Although Claire tells me not to worry about it, I guess I’ve been reluctant for the kids to see the two of us together a lot. Claire says that stupid, that there’s nothing wrong with them being exposed to a healthy, happy relationship. I guess she’s right, but this town and all . . . well, you know.”

“Oh, yes. I know this town even better than you do. I grew up here, remember? Still, considering the way Mom is doing her best to accept the situation, there may be hope for Porterfield yet.”

“Claire says she’d really like to get to know you better, and she’d like the kids to get to know you, too. She says she’s impressed with what she’s seen of you, so far.”

“Really?”

Ed had met Claire and the kids several times before, usually when he stopped by to pick up Rick for an evening out. He had immediately liked Claire, who was a few years older than her brother and seemed to share most of his best qualities. The kids seemed okay, too.

Rick laughed. “Yeah, she said you’ve given me an excuse to stay here in Porterfield, better than anything she could think up.” He kissed Ed. “Ah, and what an excuse you are. So what do you think? I survived dinner with your mother. Do you think you could put on your Uncle Ed face and spend some time with my family?”