Men and Dogs (16 page)
Authors: Katie Crouch
Jenny gives a hollow laugh. “I guess I’ll have to ask him about it.”
“It was just a little thing.”
“He never told me.”
Hannah bows out of this conversation. Obviously Warren has lied to Jenny, and other people’s lies make her tired. She steps away and surrenders to the line, still fairly long. As she waits, she wonders how Jenny really feels about being a minister’s wife. Someone that pretty could have been any Charleston man’s wife, save maybe Palmer’s. But Jenny White picked Warren. She
picked
him. Blissfully buried in the brown-and-green hills of Northern California, Hannah never considered this possibility, but of course that’s what happened. Jenny picked Warren in high school, probably while they were still chatting on the Nelsons’
beach-house porch, during the time Hannah still thought he was hers. It’s all so clear now. Suddenly any guilt she felt about the book thing dissipates. Jenny White isn’t stupid. She never was. If anything, Hannah muses, I was stupid for underestimating her.
It’s her turn now with Reverend Meyers. He smiles at Hannah carefully.
“Hi,” she says. “That was a nice God talk you gave.”
“Thank you.”
“So? Here I am at services. Even had the pleasure of talking to your wife.”
“Great.”
“She said she’d never read your book, by the way. Is that true?”
Hannah is pleased to note that she has succeeded in making Warren lose his saintly composure for the moment. He twirls a curl with his finger. “You told her about the book?”
“I just mentioned it. I thought she would have read it by now.”
“No,” he says. “She hasn’t.”
“Well, I don’t get it. Why don’t you show it to her now?”
“I . . .” He clears his throat. “Did you like the sermon?”
“I just said I did. Warren, what’s going on?”
He puts his finger under his collar. “I never showed it to her because it was bad. Anyway, thanks for coming. It’s always nice to see a new face in the crowd.”
He looks over her shoulder, as if to beckon the next member of the congregation along.
“Wait. Who’s this person you said could help? And please don’t say Jesus.”
“It’s my mother, since you ask. I thought she might be able to talk some sense into you about letting this thing go. But now
I’ve got to explain to my wife why I published a book and never told her about it. So, you know, thanks. Thanks for that.”
“No offense, Minister, but you’re the one who lied.” He glares at her. “Anyway, I’ve already talked to your mother. As you know.”
“I think—” He squares up, looking over Hannah’s head.
“Hello, Warren.” Daisy has breezed past the line and come to stand next to them. “What a nice, calm sermon.”
“Thank you, Mrs. DeWitt.”
“So we have Hannah home for a spell. Isn’t it a treat?”
“It sure is.”
As Daisy smiles, Hannah can’t help but marvel at how pretty she is—even in Goodwill Elvis lapels. Pretty, Hannah ponders.
Jenny’s pretty. Mom’s pretty. Why am I not pretty? But now her mother’s face has become considerably less pretty. She’s still smiling, but it’s a frightening smile. Her eyes are too wide, and her teeth are slightly clenched.
“Mom?”
“Oh, look,” she growls. “Virginia.”
“Hi, there.” Virginia appears in an Indian silk tunic, white pants, and feather dream-catcher earrings. “Hannah, good to see you again. Daisy, it’s been a while.”
As they stand there, the four of them, Hannah can’t help but notice the way they’re positioned—she is across from Warren;
Virginia across from her mother. A perfect, awkward square.
“Mom,” Hannah finally mumbles, “I was just going to catch up with Virginia and Warren for a while.”
“Ah.” A visible look of distaste. “Well, fine, then. I suppose you can walk home?”
“Sure.”
“Watch for nails, dear,” she says. “Don’t want to have to extract any more metal from your head, at least for the moment.
And, Virginia, it was lovely to see you. Such a brave color.”
Virginia purses her lips. “Thank you.”
“Well. I’m off!”
They watch as Daisy strides purposefully away, a sleepy gathering of pigeons and squirrels scattering on either side of her path.
“Good Lord,” Virginia mutters.
“I’m going to find Jenny,” Warren says. “You two catch up.”
Virginia looks at Hannah. “So?” she asks. “Warren said you have something to ask me?”
Whenever Hannah is about to learn something she doesn’t want to know—which, lately, has been too often—she experiences a distinct physical sensation. A prickle. Like now: even though it’s warm out, the hair on her arms goes vertical.
“It’s about a party,” Hannah says.
“What party?”
“The Nelsons’ party.”
“The Nelsons?” Virginia snorts. “Who talks to the Nelsons anymore?”
“I mean, a long time ago. The one party you, Mom, and Dad were at together.”
Virginia shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“I found a picture. You’re in it, and so are my parents.”
“Well, sweetheart, we went to parties.”
“But DeWitt’s in it. And my mother said she didn’t know him then.”
Virginia regards her cautiously. “Well, I don’t know anything about that.”
“I guess I’m trying to figure things out.”
“Do you have it? This picture?”
Hannah reaches into her bag and finds the envelope. Virginia takes it, glances at Hannah, and looks at it again.
“Well. Weren’t we pretty,” she says.
“Yes. You were. But what about DeWitt? Do you know why he was . . .”
Hannah doesn’t finish, because for a very brief moment, something has come over Virginia, as if she can’t help it. She brings the image closer and closer, until the picture is nearly touching her face.
“Virginia?”
Virginia shakes her head.
“Sorry, Hannah. I—” She composes herself and hands the photo back to Hannah. “I don’t remember.”
“Warren thought you might.”
“Well, Warren was wrong,” she says quickly. “Listen—I’ll see you later, all right? We’ll get a drink or something. I’ve got to run.” She rushes off, disappearing behind the church.
Hannah watches her go, her mind clicking and grinding like the inner wheels of a clock. Of course, she thinks.
Virginia and Buzz were together when they were younger. Hannah always knew that. Everyone knew that. But now it’s clear: Virginia never got over him.
Warren’s mother was in love
with Hannah’s father
. It’s not the whole picture—she knows it’s not. Still, she feels the truth getting closer.
Hannah raises her hand to Warren and Jenny, then heads home through the graveyard. She doesn’t bother to look to see if they’re waving back.
16
Something Else Hannah Just Remembered
I
N THE CAR very late on a weekend night. The road was empty because everyone else was somewhere better. In their houses.
Warm and safe in bed.
Palmer’s head on Hannah’s shoulder. Palmer was sleeping; Hannah was pretending. This was before everything. They were all smaller.
Virginia’s were the best parties. The children were left unsupervised, and there were always costume themes. Gatsby (all whites,
champagne in a makeshift fountain); King Arthur (the dining table dragged out to the garden); Woodstock (headbands, clouds of bitter, earthy smoke). That night Daisy had gone out dressed as a man, while Buzz wore a tennis dress of his wife’s. The hair on his legs scared Hannah, made her cry.
It was wilder than usual. She and her brother had spent the night in the garden, fighting with the Nelson boys.
Let us kiss you for a dollar.
No!
Let us—No!
Palmer chipped his tooth for her.
It’s just ridiculous, her mother said.
What now?
These parties. You’re unbearable.
Why?
I might as well come with a phantom. That’s what it’s like. I’m always alone.
How are you alone? I’m with you.
Off in the corner.
I’m cornered?
You know who I’m talking about. You’ll go back to her. I know it. Might as well get ready now. You’ll leave me someday.
We’re just friends, Daisy. I keep telling you.
You and your corners.
You’re drunk.
Do you know what it’s like, being your wife?
A constant party?
Ha.
A warm bath.
No.
Then what?
It’s like being married to air.
A car approached and passed, flooding the family’s space with a pause of light. Buzz turned around to look at his children.
Hannah shut her eyes as quickly as she could, feigning sleep. Soon enough, it claimed her.