Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (65 page)

“How much do you have left to do?"

“The painters will finish the storage room today and that's it."

“Life won't be the same without all the noise and workmen,” she laughed.

“Enjoy it while you can. Jake said something about building a room off the study for a Jacuzzi. Oh, crap ... I wasn't supposed to say anything about that. Please act surprised when Jake gives you your Christmas present,” Carl pleaded.

She stepped around piles of merchandise in the living room and made her way to the den. She needed to relax and think. Playing with Jake's stamp collection allowed her to do both. She scooped a handful of stamps out of one of the boxes purchased from the Dollars, made herself comfortable at the desk and began sorting the stamps by country.

She began mentally to rehearse various scenes in which she would tell Jake about her past life. She thought of telling him just after having sex, or while soaking in the tub together, or while having dinner, or while working together to fill orders. She rehearsed the words she would use, the details she would reveal and those she would leave untold. None of the scenarios that crossed her imagination felt right.

She started working on a second handful of stamps and tried to imagine Jake's reaction. She didn't like what her imagination showed her.

Something clicked in her brain. She looked back at the last stamp she had tossed in the United States pile, picked it up with the tongs Jake insisted she use and examined it more closely. It didn't look right somehow. The stamp was not quite square and was red with a white semicircular area in the middle. “U. S. Postage” was in white outlined lettering over the white area, the figure “24” was enclosed in ovals in both the bottom left and right corners, and the image of a blue airplane was within the white area. The airplane—that was what caught her attention. It was upside down. She thought the stamp design must have been trying to show the airplane doing stunts. She set it aside to show Jake.

She could stand the odor of fresh paint no longer and opened the study windows. As she did so, Jake arrived in the van.

“Where are you going to put all that stuff?” she greeted him from the window.

“In the stock room when the painters finish,” he shouted back. “Come help me unload it on the porch for now."

After the supplies were stacked on the porch Jake asked, “What took you so long? I waited and waited for you to get back from your grocery shopping. I thought you might like to ride to with me to Charlotte."

“I stopped by the church to have a little chat with Mack McGee."

“The preacher?” he asked incredulously.

“For a preacher he's okay,” she said dragging him inside by his hand. “He invited us to help rake leaves on the church grounds this Saturday. I'll tell you about it, but first I want to show you a stamp I just found. If you already have one in your collection, I'd like to have it."

Jan watched Jake's face turn white as he studied her stamp. He pulled volume one of the
Scott Standard Postage Stamp Catalogue
from the shelf and hurriedly thumbed its pages. “Whoopee!” he shouted, grabbing her and dancing her around the desk. “You've done something most stamp collectors can only dream about,” he cried.

“Great, but what did I do?"

“You've discovered a copy of a major U. S. stamp error,” he cried. “It's commonly called an Inverted Jenny. The airplane is a Curtis Jenny and it isn't supposed to be flying upside down. Look at this,” he said, pointing to the appropriate spot on the catalog page.

Jan followed his finger and read the entry for Scott number C3a. The stamp was valued at $145,000.

She eagerly joined in another dance around the desk and blended her voice with his in an off-key rendition of “Happy Days Are Here Again."

“This calls for a celebration. I'm going to buy you the biggest steak Dot's Diner has in its freezer."

Jan had difficulty believing her companion in the diner was Jake. This man, who rarely spoke to anyone, shook hands, patted backs, and told every customer in the restaurant about the Inverted Jenny, including Tim and Sandra Dollar.

“Did that stamp come from those Vic Kimel sold you?” Tim Dollar asked.

“Sure did,” was Jake's gleeful reply.

“And how much did Vic charge you for those stamps?"

“A hundred bucks."

“Just wait ’til I get my hands on that idiot,” Tim laughed.

“Don't be too hard on the boy,” Jake said. “Neither he nor I had any way of knowing those boxes contained anything other than space fillers."

Jan wondered what a “space filler” was, but decided this was not the time to ask.

“Jake, I don't think I've ever seen you this excited,” Jan said as they slid into their favorite booth.

“I may have never been this excited before, Jan,” he beamed. “Did you notice the condition of that stamp? It was perfect—just a light cancellation mark in the lower left corner. That thing might bring as much as a quarter of a million dollars at a stamp auction."

“You thinking about selling it?"

He looked at her with great kindness in his eyes. “You found it. It's your stamp. You may sell it if you like."

“I want you to have it in your collection,” she replied. “It's not my stamp. You paid for it."

“How about us putting it in our collection,” he said, reaching across the table and placing his hand on hers.

She smiled, leaned over and kissed the back of his hand.

“You said you'd tell me why you went to see the preacher today. And why in the hell would you want to go rake the church lawn?"

“Raking was sort of a joke, but I would like to do it. I don't know why."

“Okay, it's your life. You can do what you like. Maybe I'll go with you, but I doubt it,” he joked.

“It's not a big deal."

“Surely you didn't go to see the preacher to volunteer to rake his leaves?"

“No, but this is not the time, Jake."

“Why not?"

She looked around. Most of the customers had departed. “You're so happy right now. I don't want to bring you down."

“Now you've got to tell me,” he said, smearing a pat of butter on his dinner roll.

“She looked around again, dropped her head, and in a low voice began. “I've made a ton of wrong choices in my life, Jake. Deciding to be your friend may have been the first good choice I ever made. I didn't count on falling in love with you, though. That caught me by surprise. I didn't even recognize what it was for a long time. You asked me to marry you. You think I am something special. I want to marry you, but I am a very evil person, Jake—have been all my life. I've talked with Mack McGee twice about it. He says I need to tell you about my past and hope that you'll forgive me."

She looked up only to find that he was now looking at his plate rather than at her. She saw the anguish on his face.

“Has the time finally come when you tell me you have been a prostitute, a thief, a drug user and pusher, did some time in jail and all those good things?” he asked.

Her mouth gaped open. “You knew all along! Who told you?"

“I'm not very proud of this, Jan.” His sad eyes met hers. “Early in our relationship I employed a private detective to check you out.” His eyes pleaded with her. “Can you ever forgive me?"

“Me forgive you? Oh, Jake. It must be the other way around."

Their hands met on the tabletop.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “forgiveness is not what we need."

“What then?"

“Acceptance. Neither of us can do anything about yesterday, but we can do something about today and tomorrow. Jan, please marry me."

“Aren't you supposed to get down on your knees or something? Jake ... Jake ... I was just kidding ... Jake."

She was too late. He slid out of the seat, knelt on one knee and shouted, “Hey everybody, we're getting married!"

The few remaining customers, including the Dollars, broke into applause and rushed to their table to offer congratulations. As soon as she could get a word in edgewise, Sandra Dollar pleaded, “Please have the ceremony at our Christmas Eve party."

“I don't like this a little bit,” Jake said as he parked his van in the church lot. “How did you manage to talk me into it?"

“I used my womanly charms,” Jan laughed.

“Well, what do we do now? We don't know these people,” he grumbled.

“It looks like we have our choice of joining the group in the cemetery or the ones working behind the parking lot. Come on, Jake,” she said, opening the passenger side door of the van. “Give it ten minutes. If you aren't enjoying it I'll pretend to get sick and you can take me home."

Jake reached behind him and grabbed the bag containing two new pair of work gloves while Jan extracted from the van two leaf rakes purchased minutes earlier from the Dot Hardware Store.

As they approached the workgroup they heard Rita Holder call out, “Hey, Jan. Over here."

The relief Jan felt was overwhelming. She knew the invitation was more than it appeared to be to Jake. “Looks like we're about to get a work assignment,” she said, tugging on Jake's sleeve.

Jake previously met both Rita and Betty Nading when, at Jan's insistence, he approached them about advertisements for his mail-order business. He pretended to be interested in the animated conversation of the three girls and was a little surprised at how friendly they seemed. On their previous meeting, they all seemed very stiff, very professional, and very cold towards each other. He wondered if the two women from the ad agency knew he was impotent.

He let his eyes wander over the churchyard. There were more people here than he could count. He had never seen such an assortment of jeans, bib overalls and flannel shirts.

“Hey, Jake,” someone called out.

He turned towards the sound coming from the parking lot. Big Willie had backed up a flatbed trailer loaded with three push mowers from the golf course. The big man was beckoning to him. “Give me a hand with these things, Jake."

Who the hell is this black guy? Jake wondered as he approached the trailer.

“Don't reckon we've been introduced,” Big Willie said after removing the unlit cigar from his mouth. “Name's Willie Donaldson. Most folks call me Big Willie ‘cause I'm so fat,” he chuckled. “I've seen you many times at the diner."

“Good to meet you, Mr. Donaldson."

“This ain't gonna work—you calling me mister."

“Okay, Big Willie. These are monster grass mowers."

“Yeah. Gets the job done quick, but I forgot to bring the ramp. Offloading these things is a two man job,” Big Willie said pulling one mower to the edge of the trailer. “Grab hold of the other end."

When the mowers were safely on the ground Big Willie began filling them with gas while Jake checked to be sure that all of his vertebrae were still in place.

“We like to give the grass one more cutting after the leaves have been cleaned up. Whatever leaves escape the rakes get chewed up and become fertilizer for next year's growth. Why don't you get started in the graveyard?” Big Willie instructed.

Of course, Jake thought sarcastically, and he began to push the heavy mower in the right direction.

“Whoa here,” said Big Willie. “This here's a self-propelled model. Let me show you.” He gave the starter cord a swift yank and the engine roared to life. “This gadget is the gas and this one is the clutch. Just squeeze it and you're on your way."

Jake squeezed the clutch and the machine began moving forward. “This does make it easier,” Jake shouted over the engine noise, “but it doesn't give you much exercise."

Big Willie grinned and then hollered at Victor Kimel to man a second mower.

By the time he reached the cemetery, Jake had sufficiently mastered the use of the machine to feel comfortable, but he soon found that his observation about the machine not providing much exercise was more of a joke than he thought. Although the temperature on this December Saturday was in the low sixties, Jake quickly found himself perspiring as he chased and guided the monster. He worked thirty minutes before realizing that cutting back on the gas would slow down the machine's forward movement and allow him to walk, rather than practically jog behind it.

He was following the rakers, and behind him, another group began to scrub headstones and grave markers. He felt Big Willie did him a huge favor in assigning him to a mower. These people were strangers, but this way he could be a part of the group without having to talk to them. “A part of the group,” he said so softly that nobody could possibly have heard him over the engine racket. He shook his head and smiled. “It's been a long time since I could say that."

His mind wandered. He undressed Jan and fondled her firm breasts, gently sucking each rosy nipple.

“Jake!"

Reality returned with a start and he realized Dr. McGee was walking beside him. He engaged the clutch, stopping the mower's forward progress.

“You look like you could use a cold Pepsi,” she shouted.

“Rather have a beer,” he smiled, “but I guess that's a no-no at a church function."

“Oh, no,” she shouted. “We have beer too. Lite or regular?"

“Something strong,” he laughed.

He mowed to the far end of the neatly lined stones and shut off the engine. He mopped the sweat from his forehead with a pocket-handkerchief, wishing he had a red bandana like he saw others using. He walked to the shade of a towering black walnut tree and sprawled out, propping his back against the tree trunk. He gazed up into the branches, devoid of leaves but still clinging to a few of the pods that contained the black walnuts.

“It's been years since I've eaten a black walnut,” he said when Mary Lou handed him a Budweiser.

She copied his reclining position and replied, “Some twenty years ago a blight wiped out most of these trees in North Carolina, but they've made a strong comeback. You probably have some on your property. Have you looked?"

“No I haven't, but I will now that it's on my mind."

They watched the work in progress and sipped their cold beverages for a few minutes in silence.

“Dr. McGee, I have something else on my mind too, but I suppose I shouldn't discuss business on your day off."