What Follows After: A Novel (2 page)

O
CTOBER
22, 1962
D
E
L
AND
, F
LORIDA

Some said Scott Harrison had movie star good looks. That might’ve been part of what had gotten him into so much trouble. He didn’t care about his looks, no more than other men did. On this day, he didn’t care about them at all. He was carrying the weight of the world as he sat out there by the curb on Clara Avenue, eyes fixed on the front door, working up the nerve to go inside. How was he going to face her, the Queen, the Grand Old Lady of the Harrison clan?

Scott’s mother wasn’t a person to cross.

She always spoke with a civil tongue, but her eyes could get cold as steel if you displeased her, a coldness that went right through you. Enough to make you shudder inside, make you wish you could be anywhere else but there, locked in her gaze. But you couldn’t move. You had to just stand there, and that stuck feeling would continue until she looked away.

Scott didn’t want to get out, walk down that long sidewalk and up those porch steps, and ring that doorbell. He especially didn’t want to tell his mother what he’d come there to say.

But he did.

“Why, Mister Scott, we don’t ever see you ’round here this time of day.” It was Mamie Lee, the Harrison family’s lifelong maid. Scott stepped inside and gave her a big hug, like he always did. Much to his mother’s chagrin. But he felt Mamie Lee was really the one who raised him, taught him how to treat people and about the things in life that really mattered.

He always said her place in heaven would dwarf that old Southern mansion he and his brothers had grown up in on Clara Avenue, and that they’d all be lucky if she ever gave them the time of day once God had settled the score. “Mamie Lee, good to see you. Wish I was here on more pleasant business.”

“Uh-oh,” she said, stepping back. “What kind of trouble you in now?” She was smiling, like she always did. But knowing what he’d come there to say, he couldn’t return the smile. “I expect you want me to fetch your mama.”

“Is she busy?”

“I guess you could call it that. It’s such a nice day, she wanted to read a book out there on the back porch. Got that nice cross breeze blowing through. Had half a mind to stay out there and join her, when I brung her some fresh coffee just now. You’ll find her out there on that wicker chair she likes so much.”

Scott walked through the large foyer, trying to keep his footsteps light on the polished wood floor. “I’ll just make my way out there and surprise her.”

“You know she doesn’t like surprises very much.”

“I’ll be gentle.” Scott tried to keep things upbeat and positive with Mamie Lee. No reason to worry her about something she couldn’t do anything about. “Might be a good idea if you stay clear of the porch for a while, Mamie Lee. If you get my drift.”

“Oh, I do. I can see in your eyes something’s troubling you pretty bad.” She leaned forward and whispered, “You been troubled ’bout something a good long while. I can tell. Every time you visit lately.”

He should’ve known Mamie Lee would’ve picked up on the true state of his emotions. No matter how well he’d tried to hide them. But today the hiding stopped. He had been given the afternoon off due to some top-secret thing going on at GE. The whole plant was on lockdown. But his boss said to call in a few hours, in case the situation changed. He rarely got time off on weekdays anymore. This gave him a chance to talk with his mother without his father around.

“There anything I can do for you, Mister Scott?”

“Not a thing, Mamie Lee. Wish there was, believe me.”

“That what you came here to talk about, with your mama?”

He nodded.

“How ’bout I just pray?”

“That’ll help.”

“I been doing that right along. But I’ll keep on praying, don’t you worry.”

He patted Mamie Lee’s forearm and smiled. “I know I can count on you for that. Well, I better get out there. Get this over with.” Scott walked through the wide hallway past the stairs toward the back of the house as Mamie Lee disappeared through the dining room on her way to the kitchen. The hallway ended in his father’s study.

The back and left walls were covered floor-to-ceiling with hardbound books on shelves, and there was a large mahogany desk nearby, but Scott had never seen anyone study in this room. It was mainly the place the men retired to after dinner to smoke pipes and cigars while they talked money and politics. Scott didn’t smoke and had little to say about money or politics. He looked toward the other two walls, all of French windows. The wall to the right
led to the back porch. There was his mother, sitting with perfect posture by the corner in one of two wicker chairs, a book opened on her lap. Scott eyed the empty chair beside her, deciding whether it was best to deliver his news standing or sitting down.

The French door creaked as it opened to the porch, but his mother didn’t look up. He stood beside her, shuffling his feet the last few steps in an attempt to get her attention. “Oh my, Scott. There you are.” She said this almost as if she expected him.

“What are you reading?” he said. “Is it any good?” She closed the book, and he read the cover:
The Winter of Our Discontent
. “Steinbeck, eh? Enjoying it?” A delaying tactic, some idle small talk.

“I’m trying to,” she said. “It’s supposed to be very good.” He understood that to mean it was a recommendation from her circle of friends. “What are you doing here on a Monday afternoon? Shouldn’t you be working on your rockets?”

“We don’t actually build rockets, Mom. Remember? They do that down at the Cape. Gina and I live in Daytona Beach.” Daytona was a thirty-minute drive east of DeLand.

“But don’t you work on the space program? That’s what I’ve been telling everyone.”

“I do, but indirectly. It’s complicated. We build test equipment they use to help make sure the rockets work okay. We’re not even working on the Mercury launches going up now. Remember when President Kennedy said last month he wants to put a man on the moon by the end of the decade?”

“I couldn’t believe he said that. How absurd.” His mother had voted for Nixon. “Kennedy’s Catholic, you know,” she’d said at the time.

“It better not be absurd,” Scott said. “That’s what my job depends on. It’s called the Apollo program. Don’t you remember? I told you all about this a few weeks ago.” He had a feeling she
hadn’t been listening. Scott’s father and two older brothers were bankers. She didn’t understand what they did, either.

“So, why aren’t you at work doing that?” Her face grew serious. “Wait a minute, there’s something wrong. Is that why you’re here?” She leaned forward in her chair.

Scott decided to sit down. His knee-jerk reaction was to say that nothing was wrong, but that wasn’t true. Something was terribly wrong. As wrong as it could be.

“Is it Gina or one of the boys? Are they all right?”

“Well, give me a few minutes to explain. That’s why I took the time to drive over here in the middle of the day. So I could explain what’s going on, face-to-face. You always said some conversations are important enough they should only be done in person.”

“Oh dear . . .”

Yes, oh dear, he thought. “You know that big birthday party you’re planning for Dad in two weeks?”

“His sixtieth,” she said. “So . . . you’re not coming now? Is that what you’re here to tell me? The whole family’s going to be here. Your brothers, their wives and kids. Uncle Don and Aunt Elizabeth, even some of your cousins are driving all the way over here from Tampa. Your—”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’ll be there. It’s just . . .” He sighed, took a deep breath. “It’s just . . . Gina won’t be. And I’m not sure about the kids.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, that’s why I drove over here in the middle of the day. Why I’m not working on my rockets. There’s something I’ve gotta tell you, Mom, something I know you won’t want to hear.”

His mother stared at Scott for several moments, the confused look on her face shifting to frustration. “Aren’t you going to explain?”

Scott took another deep breath. “I will. But you need to let me lay a few things out before you react.”

“I won’t react, but don’t beat around the bush for the next ten minutes, either.” She set her novel on the end table between the two chairs.

“I won’t. The reason Gina won’t be coming to Dad’s party is . . . she and I have separated. We—”

“What? Separated? What do you mean, separated?”

“See? You’re reacting.”

She sat up straight, got ahold of herself. “Continue.”

“Gina left me, quite awhile ago.”

“How is that possible? How long ago?”

This next part would be the hardest to swallow. “Last December, between Christmas and New Year’s.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Why, that’s . . . that’s ten months ago.”

“I know.”

“But the two of you have been here at least a dozen times since then. The kids too. You were just here for our Labor Day picnic last month.”

“I know. We were separated then.”

“Scott, is this some kind of joke? You and your brothers are always pulling pranks on each other. Is this one of those—”

“It’s not a prank, Mom. I would never do that to you. Not with something like this.” The truth was, Scott had never pulled pranks on his older brothers, though he had been a victim of theirs more times than he could count.

She gave him a look he couldn’t read. He hated this. He should never have let this charade go on so long. But he honestly thought he could get Gina to come around. This would make him the black sheep again. It started when he’d married Gina and then enlisted to serve in Korea rather than finish college. His parents wanted him to stay single, finish college first, and go into banking, not engineering. Then marry Gina. They wanted those things very much. It had taken the better part of the 1950s to get back in his mother’s good graces.

“Well, go on. Finish your story. You were just about to tell me you two were separated back on Labor Day.”

“Mom, we’ve been separated this entire year. At every family event, every holiday dinner or picnic since Christmas.”

“But you didn’t act separated. You looked just as happy as you’ve always been. That was all an act? Every time I saw you, you were just pretending?”

Scott nodded. “Afraid so. Well, I wasn’t pretending to love Gina, I mean. Just pretending we were still together.”

“So you do love her?”

“Of course I do. Even more now than before.”

“But she doesn’t love you?”

Scott looked out toward the backyard. “To be honest, I’m not sure anymore.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I can’t believe you’re saying these things to me. Harrisons don’t get divorced. We don’t—”

“We’re not divorced. We’re separated.”

“Harrisons don’t separate, either. We stay together. We work through our problems.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past ten months.”

“Well, you can’t be trying very hard. Sounds like things are getting worse, if she’s not willing to even come to a family event anymore.”

Scott had to restrain his anger. Getting mad would only make things more difficult. “I have been trying hard to fix this. It’s Gina. She’s the one who won’t reconsider. I’d move back in today if she’d let me.”

“Why won’t she let you? It doesn’t make any sense. You’re both Christians. Our church doesn’t even believe in divorce. There’s only one exception, and I think you know what I’m talking about.”

He did. She was talking about unfaithfulness, committing adultery.

“Has she . . . is she seeing someone else?”

“No, as far as I know, she’s not.”

A look of shock came over her face. “Then it’s you, Scott? I can’t believe you would—”

“It isn’t me. I wasn’t unfaithful to Gina.”

“Then what is it?”

Scott stood up and took a few steps toward the wooden railing. “She thinks I was.”

“Was what?”

“She thinks I’ve been unfaithful to her. She thinks she has grounds not just to separate but to divorce.” He sighed. “And with this new development, I’m afraid she might be taking things in that direction.”

“I don’t understand, Scott. If you haven’t been unfaithful, why does she think that?”

He turned to face her. “Because she saw something back in December that convinced her I was cheating. She believes it, and
nothing I’ve been able to say or do since then has convinced her otherwise.”

“What did she see? What
could
she have seen to make her think such a thing?”

Scott sat again, on the edge of his chair
.
“I really don’t want to go into that much detail, if you don’t mind.”

His mother shifted in her seat, away from him. Now she looked away also. “This is just terrible. I can’t believe you’re telling me this. What will your father say, or your brothers?”

Scott didn’t need to hear that. “I wish I didn’t have to be telling you this. But I had to, with Dad’s party less than two weeks away.”

She didn’t look at him for a few moments. Finally she said, “But I don’t understand something. The four of you always came in the same car. I remember coming out to greet the boys sometimes when you arrived.”

“We’d meet fifteen minutes early in the parking lot of the A&P. She’d move over to the passenger side, and I’d get in to drive.”

There was her subtle, disgusted look, then . . . “The kids!” A gasp. “What about the boys?”

She might as well hear all of it, he thought. “They’d be in the backseat like they always are. They’re living with her, of course. Gina lets me see them on Saturdays, if I don’t have to work, and one night a week, usually Tuesdays.”

“That’s awful. The poor things.” Then another look of shock. “Do the boys know? Of course they know, what am I saying? Oh Scott, what have you and Gina been doing? Making the boys lie all this time? Neither one of them has said a word, for all these months.”

“I’m not proud of it, but yes, that’s pretty much it. We didn’t call it lying, we called it pretending.”

“It was lying, Scott,” she said sternly. “Plain and simple.”

“I said I’m not proud of it.”

“What you should be is ashamed, both of you. Lying is a sin. And you forced your boys to sin right along with you. What’s the matter with you?”

Scott suddenly felt like he was six years old.

“And you’ve got to know, Colt and Timmy know the difference between lying and pretending. Colt does, anyway. He’s eleven years old, for crying out loud.”

Scott realized this, though he never allowed himself to think too often or too deeply about it.

His mother stood up and walked to the other end of the porch. She stared out toward the far corner of the yard. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe it.”

The French door creaked open. They both looked. “Not now, Mamie Lee,” his mother said. “We’re in the middle of something important.”

Still standing in the doorway, Mamie Lee said, “I know that, ma’am. I know if Mister Scott comes over here by himself on a Monday afternoon to talk, it’s probably important. But the phone just rang in the house. Guess you didn’t hear it out here.”

“No, we didn’t. Did you answer it?”

“I sure did.”

“Well, can’t you just take a message? I’ll call them back after Scott leaves.”

“That’s just the thing. The phone call’s for him. It’s his wife, Gina. She’s the one on the phone.”

“Gina?” they both said in unison.

“Why would she be calling here?” Scott said.

“I don’t know,” Mamie Lee said. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Long as I’ve known her, I’ve never heard her this upset about anything. I think you better come quick, Mister Scott.”