Walking After Midnight (23 page)

„Oh, yeah?“ Frankenstein responded to Muffy’s rug routine by tossing her a section of bun. „So you got a divorce, huh?“

„Not right away. I wish I had. He spent five long years trying to turn me back into the woman he thought he had married. Someone who was feminine, sexy, and glamorous twenty-four hours a day. I spent five long years letting him. More fool me.“ Without meaning to, the bitterness Summer had thought was long behind her crept into her voice. The things she had done for Lem! She had dressed to the teeth, kept a perfect house, cooked meals from scratch, entertained his friends and colleagues with the slavish attention to detail of a frigging Martha Stewart – and spent a lot of time watching movies on the VCR while Lem worked all the hours God sent. She had been slowly going crazy with unhappiness, and all the while, to please him, she had dieted to the point of starvation. Sometimes, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she would wait until Lem was out of the house and stuff herself with anything she could find – ice cream, bread, candy bars she had hidden just for that purpose. Then she had inevitably been sick. Sick to her stomach, yes, but also sick with shame for not being able to be the girl Lem thought he had married. As Lem had told her time and again – practically every time he’d seen her eat a normal meal, in fact – he hadn’t realized he was marrying a hog.

With Lem, she had always felt like a hog.

Frankenstein looked her over thoughtfully. „More fool he, I’d say. For an old bag of thirty-six, you’re not half bad.“

Summer gave him a sudden, dazzling smile. „I don’t know what you’re after, Frankenstein, but keep on buttering me up like that and you just might get it.“

He grinned. „It was a compliment. I swear.“

„That’s what they all say.“

„Have a marshmallow. Maybe it’ll sweeten you up.“

„Maybe.“

They split the last toasted marshmallow. Summer savored the sticky confection as it melted on her tongue, then mourned its passing. Frankenstein must have felt the same way, because he licked the gooey residue from his fingers when his half was gone.

„So what happened after you finally got a divorce from what’s-his-name?“

„Lem. Dr. Lemuel C. Rosencrans, urologist. Are you really interested in hearing the rest of my life story?“

„There’s no TV. Got nothing better to do.“

Summer made a face at him. „Okay, I got a divorce. With no-fault divorce, and without any children, and since Lem was already a doctor when I married him, and since we had no equity to speak of in our house, I ended up with practically no money. Which was a shock. I’d never known before what it was like to have to worry about what I was going to eat the next day. My parents were living in Santee by that time and my dad was ill. They were sick about the divorce. I didn’t want to burden them any more than they were already burdened. My sisters were married and moved away. It was me, on my own. I was determined that I was going to make it, with no help from anyone. Only, I didn’t have any education, or training for any type of job. I’d been a lingerie model – try finding a job with that kind of reference in Murfreesboro – and a housewife. I’d gotten too old and fat to model underwear and I no longer had a husband or a house. But one thing I did bring out of my marriage: By golly, I knew how to clean. So I started cleaning other people’s houses. And Daisy Fresh was born. It’s supported me ever since, and it’s grown every year.“

Frankenstein swallowed the last bite of his hot dog. „I don’t know how to tell you this, Rosencrans, but that’s quite a success story.“

His comment pleased Summer inordinately. „Thank you.“

„So by now you’ve got what’s-his-name out of your system, I presume. What about new boyfriends?“

„I’m seeing someone. Jim Britt, a dentist.“

„Serious?“

Summer hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. „No.“

„Good.“

She looked at him carefully. „What do you mean, good?“

„I’d hate to think of you turning back into some doctor’s little housewife.“ His expression was bland.

„That will never happen again in this life, believe me. I’ve learned my lesson.“ Summer shuddered theatrically, watching with regret as he folded the top of the marshmal-low bag to guard against temptation. About a dozen marshmallows still remained inside. Prudence dictated that they, and the remaining hot dogs, buns, crackers, and breath mints, be saved for the future meals. „If we’re playing Twenty Questions, I have a few for you: Did you go to college?“

„Yup. Eastern Kentucky University. Majored in law enforcement. But not right out of high school. First I joined the Marines.“

„On purpose?“ Most of the fortyish men she knew had spent their formative years doing their best to avoid the service.

He grinned again. „Yeah.“

„Why?“

„Let’s just say I was a sucker for that
the few, the proud
crap.“

„Really?“

„And I didn’t want to get drafted. I thought I’d come out better if I joined before they nabbed me.“

„Did you? Come out better, I mean.“

„I’m still in one piece, so I must have. Although a lot of my friends managed to ride out the waning years of the draft in the National Guard.“

„Were you in Vietnam?“ Her voice was hushed, and she looked at him with renewed respect.

He grinned again. „No, but I sweated it for a while there. Just about the time I got out of basic, they started bringing troops home. I was never so thankful for anything in my life. I spent most of my hitch in North Carolina. Which meant I kinda lost my chance to be a big war hero.“

„At least you didn’t die.“

„That’s how I’ve always looked at it.“

„Did you –
are
you married?“

„Divorced.“ His tone was easy. No roadblock went up at all.

„When?“

„Three years ago. When my life went to hell in a handbasket. Along with everything else that happened, my wife left me. Took my daughter with her.“

„You have a daughter?“ Somehow the idea that he might be someone’s dad hadn’t occurred to her.

„Yep. She’s thirteen now. I’ve seen her exactly three times since she was ten.“ The bitterness in his voice told her how sensitive the topic was. „She doesn’t want to see me. Blames me for everything that happened, including the divorce. Says I ruined her life. The kids at school make fun of her because she’s my kid.“

„I’m sorry.“ Her own memories of the past dulled in the face of his imperfectly concealed pain.

„Yeah. Me too.“

„So your wife divorced you over – what happened?“

Trying to be delicate, Summer’s tongue stumbled over the last words.

„You mean my little bout with adultery? Oh, yeah.“

„I’m sorry,“ Summer said again. The words were inadequate, she knew, but she could come up with nothing better.

„I’m not. Not anymore, not about the divorce. We were never good for each other. She used to tell me I never really loved her, and she was right.“

„Did you meet her in North Carolina?“

He shook his head. „Elaine’s from Nashville. I met her after I got out of the Marines. She was two years younger than me, and we were married for eleven years. Maybe three of ‘em good ones. She used to be jealous of every woman I said two words to. And I never cheated once, I swear on the Bible. Not until…“ His voice trailed off. Summer understood what he didn’t say.

„What was her name?“

His glance at her was unreadable. He didn’t pretend not to know whom she meant. „Deedee.“

„Did you love her?“

„Deedee?“ He was quiet for a moment, his eyes reflective. „I was crazy about her from the time we were teenagers. Then I finally got what I’d been hankering after for twenty-two years – she and I in a red-hot affair – and it wasn’t what I expected at all. We were oil and water, not compatible a bit. But I loved her. Yeah, I loved her. In the end, it wasn’t enough. Not for me. And not for her.“

The raw anguish in his voice as he finished warned her to leave the subject alone. When Frankenstein suddenly busied himself by breaking one last hot dog into pieces for Muffy, she tactfully got to her feet and retired into the darkness with a murmured excuse about heeding nature’s call.

When she returned, he didn’t look up at first. He was squatting by the fire, his attention focused on feeding sticks to the flames. As she watched him without, she thought, his being aware of it, he picked up a freshly opened beer that was waiting beside him and took an enormous swig.

Summer remembered what he had said about being an alcoholic, and felt a twinge of alarm.

He must have felt her eyes on him then, because he glanced around. Her gaze went involuntarily to the beer can he still held.

Knowing that she watched, he put the can to his lips and took another long swallow.

„Quit worrying,“ he advised her when he was done, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. „You wouldn’t want me to die of thirst out here in the wilderness, would you?“ He grinned suddenly at the expression on her face. „Besides, it’s water. I filled an empty can up at the stream.“

„In that case, I hope you don’t get dysentery.“ It was hard to keep her tone as light as she knew it needed to be. She felt such enormous sympathy for him that it took a huge amount of dissembling not to let it show.

He would hate it if he guessed she felt sorry for him. Summer knew it instinctively, as surely as she knew that in life there would always be taxes and death.

Her flippant rejoinder made him grimace. „Jesus, I never thought about that.“

„Too late now.“

Without warning, Summer yawned so widely that her jaws cracked. With her stomach full, she was out on her feet. She needed sleep in the worst way. Then she glanced at Frankenstein, suddenly ill at ease.

He was busy repacking their remaining supply of food, wrapping it in the white plastic bag and then unzipping the gym bag, to, she assumed, stow it away. When she yawned, he grinned at her.

„Looks like bedtime for you, Bonzo.“

Bedtime for Bonzo, indeed. She was agreeable. There was just one teensy little problem.

They only had one quilt between them. And she was wearing it.

23

„Need some jammies?“ Frankenstein fished in the gym bag and held out something. Summer recognized her own Daisy Fresh uniform with relief. The clothes might be less than fresh, but at least they were clothes. She wouldn’t have to sleep naked after all.

„Thanks.“ Summer accepted the garments and retired behind a rock to pull them on. Without underclothes, her bare bottom clung to the polyester pants, and her breasts hung unconfined beneath the thin nylon of the blouse. Glancing down, Summer saw that her nipples thrust visibly against the cloth.

She pulled the quilt back around herself, and felt better. Not quite so hideously exposed.

When she emerged from behind the boulder, she saw that he had zipped himself into the hooded sweatshirt and dragged the gym bag over to a spot near the fire. He was stretched out flat on his back with his head resting on the bag and his arms crossed over his chest.

His eyes were closed. They flickered open as Summer hesitantly approached.

„Good night,“ he said.

Summer watched in disbelief as his eyes closed again. From the sound of his breathing, within seconds he was asleep.

Good night?

Clearly she did not have to fear the consequences of sharing a quilt with him. He was quite content, no, eager from the look of him, to sleep alone, braving the chill night air rather than share a quilt with her.

He had not been so particular earlier in the day. Had he somehow divined that she was growing increasingly attracted to him? Did he fear being attacked in his sleep?

Summer’s face burned.

She glanced around at the darkness outside the flickering circle of light cast by the fire and shivered. Anything could be out there.

Nevertheless, she was not going to debase herself by begging to sleep with Frankenstein.

Clutching the quilt closer, Summer dropped to her knees, brushed a reasonably grassy spot free of rocks and twigs, and lay down. Clicking her tongue at Muffy, she swooped the dog up when she approached and cuddled her close beneath the quilt.

Muffy sighed and snuggled. Summer no longer felt quite so alone.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to go to sleep.

Paradoxically, now that she wanted to, Summer found that she could not. Curled into a fetal position not far from the fire – or Frankenstein’s feet – with a wad of quilt for a pillow, Summer tried everything to make herself drowsy, from counting sheep to imagining the flowers she would plant in next summer’s garden. Nothing worked. Her mind was awake and busy; her emotions seesawed between affront at Frankenstein’s lack of interest and fear at her surroundings.

Frankenstein had not even so much as shot her a suggestive look all through their meal. He must have known she was naked beneath the quilt, but clearly the knowledge had not disturbed him in the least.