Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey (2 page)

“You know what I could use?” Callie put her
hand on his arm.

“What?” He reached into a box then
stopped.

“A brother. I don’t have one of those,” she
said, blinking back tears.

Peter hugged her.

“You’ve got one now,” he whispered.

Mac slipped out the front door and returned
to the car to find Jason and Kitty pelting Sam with questions.

“Grandpa, do you eat hot dogs in South
Africa?” Jason asked him.

“Grampa, do you eat…ice cream?” Kitty asked,
imitating her brother.

“Grandpa, do they have lakes in South
Africa?”

“Grampa, look, I have a boo boo,” Kitty
said, sticking her hand out.

Sam was laughing as the children fought for
his attention.

“Okay, enough,” Mac said, “Five minutes of
quiet time.”

The children quieted down and sat back. Sam
shot his son a look of admiration.

“They listen…impressive.”

“I’m as surprised as you.”

Mac put the car in gear and backed out of
the driveway.

* * * *

Rex Vesson, a burly man in a sleeveless
T-shirt that showed off his muscles and tight jeans carried his
small suitcase the four blocks from the train station to a small,
neat house with a well-kept yard. He was sweating from walking in
the warm May sun when he finally reached his cousin Alan’s small
house. He took a deep breath of the fresh country air and let it
out. Relief washed over him to be out of New York City and safe in
Willow Falls.

Alan answered Rex’s knock with a cool glass
of iced tea.

“Hey, Alan. Long time, no see.”

“Come on in. You only have one suitcase?”
Alan stepped aside.

“I…uh…left too quickly to pack much. Spur of
the moment, you know? Besides, clothes and crap I can buy here,
right?” He entered the house.

“Don’t lie, Rex. You’re running away.” Alan
closed the door behind Rex.

“What?”

“Come on. I don’t give a damn, but at least
be honest about it.” Alan shrugged.

“There were reasons why I left when I did.”
Rex licked his dry lips and stared at Alan’s iced tea.

“I’ll bet. Whose wife were you
screwing?”

Rex laughed.

“Nothing like that. I’ve got a new
business.”

“Lucrative?” Alan raised his eyebrows.

“I do all right. I worked in security at The
Hideaway. It’s a nightclub in Harlem. Pretty exclusive.”

“Exclusive and they employed you?” Alan sat
on the sofa and crossed his legs.

“Very funny. Yeah, they employed me.”

“You were a bouncer?”

“Yeah, so?” Rex sank into a comfortable
chair.

“Doesn’t pay much, does it?”

“It does when you watch famous people coming
in there with women who aren’t their wives. It pays even more when
it’s famous guys, ball players, politicians, coming in with other
guys.” Rex smirked.

“Isn’t the club public?”

“Not every room. Even the so-called public
rooms, you need pull to get in.”

“So you’re a blackmailer too?” Alan sipped
his iced tea.

“Hey, Alan, I’m thirsty. Got any more iced
tea?” Rex asked.

“Sure, sure. A long thirsty train ride, one
step ahead of a lot of important, pissed off people. I guess you
did need to get out of town.”

“It pays good, though.”

“I’ll bet it does.” Alan returned from the
kitchen with a tall glass of iced tea and handed it to Rex. Rex
took a big gulp before continuing.

“Meaning I can pay you rent, Alan.”

“How long do you plan to stay?” Alan settled
into a comfortable chair and sipped his tea.

“It depends on how good business goes here.
This is a pretty small town. Can’t be too much going on here, if
you know what I mean.”

“You might be wrong. For a blackmailer there
are secrets everywhere.”

“True. This might work. Its never-ending
money no matter where you live,” Rex said and laughed.

“Don’t get any ideas about blackmailing me,
okay?” Alan said, nervously.

“You doing something I should know about?”
Rex asked, his interest piqued.

“I lead a quiet, academic life.” Alan shook
his head.

Rex looked at Alan’s face with new interest.
Alan was definitely hiding something.

“Where’s Beth?” Rex asked, his eyes
searching the room.

“She took off with a grad student about
three years ago.”

“Too bad. Or are you a busy bachelor?”

“I don’t date much. Not many women here I’d
be interested in.”

“Where does a bachelor go here to get some
action?” Rex asked.

“The local strip club, The Wet Tee Shirt
might be a place to start.”

“Ever been there?”

“A couple of times.” Alan coughed.

“Can you get laid there? Chicks got good
bodies there?”

“They’re okay.”

“Only okay? What…you into guys now?” Rex
asked, raising his eyebrows.

* * * *

“No, no, after a while, they all look the
same.” Alan crossed his legs.

Alan did fine getting laid. Pressuring
failing female students to sleep with him for a good grade worked.
Maybe he was into a type of blackmail. He provided a service for
payment.
Tit for tat
, he laughed to himself. He was a
merchant of grades, with no income tax to pay on his gross
receipts.

“Hey, Alan, they
are
all the same.
Topless joint might be a good place for me to work.”

“It’s the closest thing we have to a
nightclub here.”

“Come on. Let’s eat, on me. Maybe afterward,
we can swing by this joint and check out the babes,” Rex said,
clapping him on the back.

“Sure, Rex.” Alan looked at Rex’s pumped up
body and a wave of envy swept over him, the first time he ever felt
jealousy instead of pity toward his cousin.

Rex had been a scrawny, awkward kid, not
good in school and couldn’t fight, which got him beat up regularly
after school. His father took off when his mother gave birth to
him, leaving his two older sisters holding him responsible for
their father’s departure and hating him for it. His mother was too
tired to have much time or affection left for him.

* * * *

Across town on North Main Street

Marcia Wilton approached the steps of Willow
Falls Medical Center. Her tired eyes noticed the cheerful colors of
the spring flowers in window boxes. She walked up the steps of the
large brick building slowly. Her husband, Jay, was back in the
hospital. He had been fighting cancer for five years and now was
losing the battle. Marcia went every day. The pain of seeing her
handsome, athletic husband wasting away was intense.

The doctor told her he thought Jay would
last six months, so Marcia had taken a sabbatical from her position
teaching art history at Kensington State to be with him.

“It’s spring outside,” Marcia said, walking
into his room to find him standing at the window.

Jay trained his gaze on her and offered a
wan smile.

“Any flowers up yet?”

“Tulips. Don’t know what’s coming up at the
new house.”

Marcia and Jay had been married for nine
years. They’d waited to have children, but by the time Marcia was
thirty-three and ready, Jay was stricken with stomach cancer and
neither he nor Marcia could think about anything else. They pooled
their strength and fought the disease with everything possible. Two
remissions, then the cancer returned and spread. Jay was brave,
stoic at times, but now he was resigned.

“You didn’t eat?”

“Nothing tastes good.” Jay shifted his
weight from one hip to the other.

“I brought corned beef today. Try some.”
Marcia held half a sandwich out to him.

He took three bites and stopped. Fifteen
minutes later, Jay dozed off.

Marcia took a bite of the sandwich but could
barely swallow it. She took out a crochet project and began work.
She often crocheted or read when he slept.

Occasionally she brought a special treat
from the Jewish Bakery to tempt him to eat. They would share it and
reminisce about the last time they ate chocolate babka. Often
there’d be procedures, baths and other events cutting her time
short. It didn’t matter if she left early because there was nothing
waiting for her at home.

Their families rallied around them at first,
but year after year of hope then despair, hope then despair wore
them out. Now at thirty-eight, Marcia had no children to provide
comfort, and her family, who lived far away, had gotten on with
their lives.

Jay’s mother found it devastating to visit
him, but she made the two-hour bus trip once every week anyway. His
brother and sister lived on the west coast, too far away to visit.
Death frightens people
, Marcia reminded herself when she
felt angry and deserted.

After an hour, Marcia packed up her project,
kissed Jay’s forehead and left him sleeping fitfully. The
tap-tap-tapping of her heels on the hospital corridor echoed her
feeling of loneliness as she made her way to the front door.

The bright sunshine mocked her heavy heart
as she got in her car and drove almost by rote to the small house
on First Street she and Jay had rented for the past three years.
They had owned a lovely big house on Fillmore Street in the posh
Linden Lake section, when Jay was well and working as the head
accountant for Valley Country Club and Resort. But Jay hadn’t
worked in the past three years. He was on disability, which didn’t
bring in enough money, even with Marcia’s teaching, to keep the big
house. Marcia made only enough money in her job at the university
to pay the rent on the small house.

Johnny Novacek, a young man born in America
from immigrant Czech parents, was their landlord. Johnny bought
several small houses in disrepair, fixed them up with the help of
his father, Jakub, and rented them out to support his wife and two
young children.

When she got home, Marcia put “Let It Be” by
The Beatles on the CD player and made herself a strong vodka and
tonic. Some days, Marcia pulled out their wedding pictures or
pictures of wonderful, sexy vacations on the island of St. John
where she and Jay made love on deserted beaches and swam in the
clear aqua waters of the Caribbean. When Jay first got sick, Marcia
started scrapbooks to help her hold on to their life together.

The longing for her old life with Jay became
an ache in her chest. He was so full of joy in the old pictures,
always smiling. They used to laugh all the time, because everything
is funny when you’re young, healthy and madly in love. She couldn’t
laugh anymore so she put away the pictures and scrapbooks and
poured herself another drink.

Even picking up a lamb chop, Jay’s favorite
meat, at the grocery store reduced her to tears, or hearing his
favorite songs on the radio. She cried when she awoke in the middle
of the night, reaching for Jay in the empty bed. She cried when she
opened the closet and saw his clothes there. Marcia had cried for
months. She couldn’t cry anymore.

She watched only sports on television
because she didn’t need to concentrate. It took a supreme effort
simply to get the bills paid each month. Sometimes when an
attractive man with brown hair and warm eyes came on the
television, she remembered how much she adored making love with Jay
and touching his strong swimmer’s body. He was a good lover, frisky
and mad for her. But they hadn’t made love in almost three years.
She didn’t remember the last time and at the time hadn’t realized
it would be their last.

* * * *

Back at the house, Peter took a piece of
paper with a phone number on it out of his pocket. He picked up his
cell phone and hesitated.

“Who do you still know here?” Callie
asked.

“Bianca Trieste. An old girlfriend.”

“How old?” Callie unpacked a box of books,
lining them up in an empty bookcase.

“From eight years ago.” Peter put the phone
down and instead pulled shirts out of a suitcase and put them in a
pile on the sofa.

“Serious?”

“We were almost engaged.”

Callie stopped what she was doing and
listened.

“She was the first woman I ever loved. I
asked her to marry me and she turned me down to go to Europe on a
modeling trip.”

He opened another box and took out a fistful
of notebooks.

“And you still want to talk to her?” Callie
asked, moving several books onto a new shelf.

“I think so,” Peter said, stacking the
notebooks on the credenza behind the sofa.

“Haven’t put it to rest?” Callie said,
unloading another box of books.

“Guess not.” Peter collapsed a box and
placed it on the floor, then took another.

“Is that why you’re not married?”

“Maybe. Maybe I haven’t met the right woman
yet.” Peter sat on the floor, sorting a third box of books into two
piles.

“Have you been in love since Bianca?” Callie
handed two empty boxes to Peter.

“Love? No.” Peter laughed but his smile
didn’t reach his eyes.

“Call her. Eight years is a long time to
carry a torch.”

“There have been plenty of women to replace
her…can’t seem to move on,” Peter said, standing up and collapsing
boxes.

“You’re a chick magnet, if ever there was
one.” Callie blushed at the frankness of her statement.

“It has its downside too. For once I’d like
to start off differently with a woman.”

“What do you mean?” Callie put another empty
box aside and stopped to look at him.

“I’d like to meet someone who didn’t…who
wouldn’t…” Peter waved his hand in the air, unable to produce the
words.

“Someone who wasn’t attracted to you by your
looks first?” Callie finished for him.

“I’m not God’s gift to women or anything,
but I’d like to be me first.”

“Good luck, Peter.”

“When do we get to see the Caldwell
Mansion?”