The Way Back to Happiness (32 page)

 

That night, she and Alabama rented
Splash
and Bev made Hamburger Helper chili mac. They needed comfort food, although Alabama seemed to be taking the situation with more equanimity than Bev was. Bev worried all she’d done was secure Alabama’s suspension, guarantee Stuart’s being ostracized, and hasten her own unemployment.

When they sat down to eat, Alabama laid down her fork. “I’m really sorry.”

“You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted your apology,” Bev said. “I wasn’t thrilled to know what you did, but you were hurting and confused at the time . . . and part of the reason was that I wasn’t truthful with you. Both of us have made mistakes these last months. Anyway, it took courage for you to confess, and I’m glad you decided to stand up for your friend.”

Alabama shrugged glumly. “He might not be my friend anymore. He was really mad that I told you.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I’m not sure. . . .” Alabama twirled a noodle around her plate. “Because now all the kids in school will know what happened, and maybe make fun of him—”

“How will they find out?”

“From Kevin. The minute he left the principal’s office—after
lying
—the story started spreading that Stuart was making things up about being bullied. Like he’d ever do that. Poor Stuart—we both used to think Kevin was great. We didn’t know him.”

Bev shook her head. Now was probably not the time to lecture on judging a book by its cover. Alabama was getting a crash course in that already.

“What am I going to do while I’m suspended?” Alabama asked.

“I’m not sure,” Bev said honestly.

“Can I go to Gladdie’s? Not forever, but—”

Bev clapped her hands to her cheeks.

Alabama’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

“Mama! I forgot all about her!” Her imagination had last left her mother cowering in a hotel room like Shelley Duvall at the end of
The Shining
. All the other events of the day had knocked it clear out of her head. “She’s in New York.”

“Cool!” But, seeing Bev’s distress, she asked, “What is she doing there?”

“I don’t know. She left me a message at school, but all it said was that she was in New York City.”

“Wink’s with her though, right?”

“I’m assuming.” She didn’t mention her fear that Wink had turned into a maniac. Surely he hadn’t. Maybe they’d gone east on a whim, or because Wink grew up there. That was entirely possible. Bev really had no idea about Wink’s past, or where he was from, or what he’d left behind him before moving to Dallas and . . .

Oh God. Every time she tried to imagine what they were doing, she ended up with a lurid Movie of the Week flickering through her brain.

“Did she leave a number where you could call her?” Alabama asked.

“No.”

Now Alabama looked worried, too. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No, that’s Mama. She wouldn’t want me to call her back and pay for the long distance.”

When the doorbell rang, Alabama jumped up to answer it. “Maybe it’s Stuart!”

She returned, disappointed, with Glen trailing behind her.

Startled to see him in the house after so long, Bev stood. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” He stepped forward, grabbing a chair back for physical or moral support. “I had to come.”

“I’d better do my homework,” Alabama piped up, backing toward her room. “I only have a week now to finish it. . . .”

When they heard Alabama’s door click closed, they looked at each other. For some insane reason, Bev felt like hurling herself at his chest and feeling his arms wrap around her as they used to, seeking that comfort of someone to lean on. But she wasn’t even sure that was possible anymore. She didn’t know what was going through his mind, or if she would lean on him and discover his support was so weak it snapped.

“I had to stay at school for rehearsal, but I came as soon as it was over to see how you were.”

“Well, as you can tell, I’m fine.” She looked down at the table. “Would you like some chili mac?”

He was obviously about to refuse automatically until his gaze alighted on the food. “Do you have enough?”

“Of course. Neither Alabama nor I was very hungry.”

Glad for something to do with herself, she fetched another plate, loaded it, and set it in front of him.

He took a bite. “Mm. I’ve missed this.”

Did he mean the food, or the intimacy of sharing a meal at home together?

Their gazes met and held until she looked away and began folding her napkin into an ever-smaller square. When he’d first walked in, she’d wondered if he had been sent here as an information scout by the Kirbys. But the warmth in those eyes, the concern, let her know he was here for her. “So you heard what happened with me in Lon’s office today?” she asked.

“Oh yes. You can’t call the principal a bastard without it leaking out.”

The word shocked her. “I never did!” She felt stiff with fury. “Who’s saying that? I called him weak—which was bad enough.”

“They might be starting a whisper campaign against you. The Kirbys are afraid you’re going to take a stand against Kevin Kerrigan at the next school board meeting.”

“I’m going to make a stand for Stuart Looney and other kids like him, for students to be treated with respect, and for punishment to be doled out fairly.”

His eyes narrowed. “Was he really so awful to Stuart? Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Why else would Alabama have confessed when she didn’t have to? And her story makes sense.”

Glen shook his head. “I’d wondered why Stuart seemed in such low spirits lately. He’s assistant stage manager for the fall play, and he hasn’t been his usual self in rehearsals. Sort of listless and withdrawn. I thought maybe it was because he wished he had a part instead of having to work backstage. But this explains it.” Lowering his voice, he said, “You know, Kevin’s saying that he rejected Alabama, so she’s made all this stuff up to spite him.”

Kevin had been shooting his mouth off a lot today, evidently. “Where did you hear this?”

“You can pick up a lot of scuttlebutt during a high school play rehearsal. And Stuart wasn’t there today.”

“The gossip is utterly false. But why, even if that bit of slander were actually true, would Alabama seek revenge on Kevin by doing something so hideous to her best friend?”

“But according to Jackie, when he was questioned, Stuart said he never even saw the poster your niece showed you.”

“There were others. He told Alabama about them. That’s why she went to school early and found it there on his locker—she wanted to see if what he’d told her was true.”

He put his fork down and aimed a serious gaze at her. “So you’re going to show up at the public school board meeting next Monday.”

“I am,” she said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.

“Of course! Maybe not for my job . . .”

He tilted a wry smile at her. “And what
are
your professional plans, post–New Sparta High?”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Well, Alabama told me once that with all the stuff in my house, I could open my own craft store.”

She expected him to laugh along with her, but he didn’t.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“That’s not a bad idea—sell the stuff you’ve got around here. It’s kind of clever.”

“Oh,
very
clever. I think they call it a garage sale.”

“No, but if you opened a place in one of the empty storefronts downtown—Bev’s Craft World, or whatever. That’s a great idea.”

“At the very least, it would save me some trips to Dallas.” She thought about it, seduced by the idea for a moment. She could be her own boss, for once. And she could spend all day in a world of her own creation, instead of the fishbowl world of school. There weren’t any stores like it nearby, and what had Cleta told her once? Mail order was the wave of the future. People wouldn’t even have to come to New Sparta—she could design a catalog. She might even surprise the world and make a fortune.

That word—
fortune
—brought her crashing back to earth. She would need a small fortune to start such a business. A small fortune she didn’t have. It was like being the first teacher in space all over again. “Another impossible dream,” she said.

“Not impossible,” Glen said, and looking in his eyes, she felt a stirring. It was a glint of sun on a magnifying glass, rekindling feelings she feared had died. “Nothing’s impossible.”

W
ithin days, the whole town seemed to have chosen sides in the Stuart-Kevin matter and mentally suited up for combat. In a few cases, it was worse than that. The Looney car dealership was vandalized one night, with the showroom windows broken and spray painted.

Stuart wasn’t answering Alabama’s calls. Bev was actually thankful that her niece wasn’t at school, and that she wanted to stay home and read and keep up with her schoolwork rather than run around town. Town wasn’t always a good place to be these days. Bev had endured more than one public lecture about making mountains out of molehills, and how boys would be boys.

Leaving for school one morning, Bev nearly stepped on a dead rat on her doorstep. She wanted to believe that this was a coincidence, but her welcome mat was a peculiar place for an animal to go to die.

And yet, she found surprising pockets of support. When the grocery checker handed her change one evening, the woman glanced furtively around and said in a confidential voice, “That Kerrigan boy has always been a bad one. I caught him stealing a candy bar.”

“When?” Bev asked.

The checker frowned. “Nineteen seventy-eight, I think.”

New Sparta was a town with a long memory, no doubt about it. That fact gave Bev pause. People remembered basketball stats from games played decades ago. They knew who dated whom, and for how long. Something like this—a stink made at a school board meeting—wouldn’t be forgotten soon. She felt she was seeking fairness, but if the rest of the town didn’t view it that way—if the school board didn’t—the result would be hard to live with.

There were moments, like the rat, when she was tempted to let the whole thing go, to believe that she was making a mountain out of a molehill. But then she would remember Alabama telling her about Stuart being afraid to walk on side streets.

Her town was better than that.

Amid all the troubles, she was teaching and trying to feel enthusiasm for the coming holiday season. She wanted to make Christmas nice for Alabama. But maybe, this year, Alabama wouldn’t want anything too festive. It was hard to gauge the appropriate level of cheer.

Meanwhile, anxiety over what was going on with her mother kept up a constant backbeat in her mind. Days went by, but Gladys never called again. Who knew where she was, or what was happening? She couldn’t help worrying. Last spring her mother had pneumonia, and she was just getting back to 100 percent after her gallbladder surgery in July. What if something happened while she was traveling?

Every time the phone rang, Bev was disappointed. Sometimes there was nothing but dead air over the line for several seconds before the caller hung up.

Then, one night, Dot phoned.

“Bev, this is Dot Jackson,” she announced, as if Bev could ever mistake that authoritative voice.

“What can I do for you?” With everything else going on, Bev had nearly forgotten the Jacksons.

“I wanted to inform you that we are working on a solution regarding Alabama.”

She made it sound as if Alabama were a current events topic, like the scourge of homelessness, or crack cocaine. “I wasn’t aware our niece was a problem,” she said. “But I’m interested in hearing your solution, as you call it.”

“I’m not at liberty to tell you what the arrangement will be, but I wanted to warn you that, as of now, Alabama is not a beneficiary in Mother’s will.”

“No one ever thought—”

“As of now, it’s doubtful she ever will be,” Dot finished.

How was she expected to respond to that? And how would Dot have phrased this if Alabama had picked up the phone? Bev guessed that she wouldn’t have talked to Alabama—that, like the crank caller, she would have hung up. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you can prepare Alabama. No one wants to crush her hopes.”

“Alabama doesn’t give a whoop about your mother’s will. She never has.”

Dot ignored her protest. “Mother still thinks a gesture should be made to the girl, since she’s convinced that Alabama is Tom’s daughter. Our family attorney is working on it.”

“Wonderful.” Bev took a deep breath. “So . . . any hints? Or were you just calling to irritate me?”

“We’ll be in contact soon. I didn’t want you slapping a lawsuit on us in the meantime.”

“Lawsuit?” Bev had to laugh at that. As if they didn’t have enough problems. “I think you’ve misjudged Alabama, Dot. Not everyone is like you.”

“Really?” Dot sounded unconvinced. “My experience has been that when there’s money at stake, most people are unable to resist making a grab for it.”

“Alabama isn’t most people,” Bev said.

A light laugh trilled over the line. “Well, we’ll see.”

 

There were so many worries all at once that it felt as if the day should be divided into angst blocks.

In her spare time, Bev attempted to get some momentum for the school board meeting. Appealing to her fellow teachers didn’t help. Most were sympathetic, but didn’t want to rock the boat. When she raised the issue with Oren, of course, he brushed her off in no uncertain terms. “That’s none of my business.”

Her friend Cindy told her that Kevin was the rowdiest student in her typing class, yet even she was reluctant to go to the meeting.

“I’m down to one class as it is. If I lose this, I’ll have to find another full-time job.”

Bev couldn’t blame her. They hardly had socialized all semester because Cindy was so busy working weekends and evenings at a clothes store to make ends meet.

Glen said he would be there, on her side, but his recent history with the Kirbys made her wonder, still, to what extent she could count on him.

The most daunting problem she faced was that they couldn’t even depend on the Looneys for support. Threats to Stuart were at the heart of the whole matter, yet when she approached Mr. Looney at the dealership one evening, he expressed the wish that it would all blow over. It was striking how much the strain showed in the face that she knew best from his manically goofy “Looney Deals!” commercials. He was protective of Stuart, and fearful that the incident would crush his son’s spirit. Most of all, he worried that antagonizing the Kerrigan family would only make things worse.

She sympathized . . . to a point. How could he let this stand? How could he want an injustice like this to “blow over”? She nodded to the dealership’s broken windows, still patched with duct tape and cardboard. “Does that seem like something that will blow over?”

“The police are searching for the culprits,” he said stoically.

“They might start at the mayor’s house,” she grumbled.

She was so preoccupied with mulling this over on the way home that she pulled into her drive and nearly rear-ended a car that was already parked there. A yellow Pontiac about twice the length of her Toyota. It took her a moment to realize to whom the boat belonged: Wink. They’d kept his vehicle and sold Gladys’s Buick.

She shot out of the car and ran to her front door, not knowing what to expect as she skidded into the living room. Certainly not the sight of her family having tea.

“Mama! Where have you been?”

“I told you,” Gladys said. “We were in New York.”

Bev ran over and hugged her, and then allowed herself to be enveloped in a warm embrace by Wink. “Your call to the school scared me to death,” she said to her mother. “I thought there was some emergency.”

“So did we,” Gladys said. “When I phoned The Villas to tell them we’d be coming back later than planned, Brenda Boyer said you’d been trying to reach me.”

“Because I wondered where you were,” Bev said. “I was frantic.”

“I don’t see why. We were just in Niagara Falls. At least, that’s where we were when we called you.”

“Niagara Falls? I thought you were in New York City.”

Wink chuckled. “That’s what Alabama was telling us. But I heard Gladdie leave the message, plain as day. She said to tell you that we were in New York.”

Maybe that’s what Jackie had said—Bev couldn’t remember anymore. She sagged into a chair. “Well, at least you made it back. What were you doing in Niagara Falls?”

“What does anyone do there?” Wink asked. “Glad-Rags and I hit it big in Vegas, so we decided to shuffle off to Buffalo for an impromptu second honeymoon.”

“Gladdie and Wink won sixteen thousand dollars!” Alabama exclaimed.

Her mother smiled. “Well, Wink won it—at craps.”

He put his arm around Gladys. “Glad-Rags here was my good luck charm. Couldn’t have done it without her. She’s made me the luckiest man alive.”

Bev couldn’t believe it. “I didn’t think anyone ever won in Vegas.”

“Well of course they do,” her mother said. “Why would anyone keep playing if no one ever won?”

Why indeed.

“Look at the souvenirs they brought back for me.” Alabama reached into a paper tote bag and brought out a Niagara Falls snow globe and a
Cats
T-shirt. “Aren’t they fun? She got you a shirt, too.”

“We went to Manhattan for two nights so we could catch a show and say we’d taken a bite out of the Big Apple,” Gladys said. “You two should go sometime. You’d have a ball.”

She couldn’t remember a time in her life when her mother had seemed so happy, so ebullient. When had she ever counseled anyone to take a vacation, or taken a real frivolous vacation herself? Never, that Bev could remember.

Of course, taking a vacation anytime soon would be impossible. But it was fun to see her mother in such a cheery frame of mind.

Alabama stood up. “Is it okay if I go see Stuart?”

Bev almost argued that Gladdie had just gotten here . . . but she realized that
she
was the one who had just arrived. Gladys and Wink might have been here all afternoon, for all she knew. And the fact that Alabama and Stuart were obviously talking again was a hopeful sign.

After Alabama left, Gladys went to the kitchen with Bev to make another pot of tea. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“That’s a hard question to answer all at once,” Bev said.

“We drove in early this afternoon, expecting to have time to leave you a note saying that we’d go for lunch and come back when you all were out of school, but Alabama was here at the house. She said she got kicked out.”

Bev shook her head. “Suspended.”

She tried to walk her mother through all that had happened, both at school and with the Jacksons, about what was going on now, and the school board meeting that had yet to take place. Through it all, Gladys listened, arms crossed, gaze locked on the linoleum.

When Bev finished, her mother looked her in the eye. “You haven’t had an easy time of it, have you?”

For some reason, the simple question made Bev want to cry. For weeks, she’d been holding on to her sanity by the thinnest of threads. This little bit of compassion from her mother nearly tipped her over the edge. “It’s been . . . rough.”

“Sounds to me like it might get rougher. You could lose your job defending a boy who’s nothing to you.”

“Not nothing.” Bev lifted her chin. “He’s my student, and Alabama’s friend.”

Her mother frowned. “Well, good for you. You can find another teaching position, can’t you?”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to. I like it here. It’s been my home for nearly a decade now. I love my house, and the people.” She added, “Most of them. Even if I didn’t teach, I’d like to stay and try to figure out something. I might try a new venture anyway. Glen and I were talking—”

“Glen!” Her mother’s brows rose. “Is he back in the picture?”

“A little,” Bev admitted. “He thinks I should open a craft store. He says I can’t be the only person around here who would drive fifty miles to find the right-sized chunk of Styrofoam.” She shook her head, daunted as always when she considered the difficulties. “But I’d have to get a bank loan, and I don’t know how I’d manage that.”

Her mother gaped at her. “You’re afraid to apply for a loan? For Pete’s sake, I worked in a bank the whole time you were growing up. I’ll hold your hand and take you through it step-by-step if need be.”

“I don’t have any equity.”

“If you think you could make something happen here, we will get you through this,” her mother said. “Don’t forget, you have rich relations.”

Bev shook her head. “You and Wink need to hold on to your winnings, Mama. From the looks of you, you might have a third and fourth honeymoon in you yet.”

Gladys laughed as they carried the refilled pot of tea back out to the dining room. While they were away, Wink hadn’t wasted his time. Rhoda Morgenstern was decked out in an I
NY T-shirt and Gladys’s sun hat.