Shannon Waverly - Three For The Road

“I can see why. It looks so real.” Mary Elizabeth gazed at the lethal-looking toy. She’d heard such things existed. She’d even read about them being used in robberies, but she’d never actually seen one before. “And you want me to...”

“Yes, take it. Here.” The housekeeper placed the water pistol in Mary Elizabeth’s lap. “I wish I had a real weapon to give you, but—” she shrugged “—this might work if you’re ever in a bind.”

Mary Elizabeth stifled the urge to laugh. She thought Mrs. Pidgin’s fear of traveling had put her over the edge, but she said a polite thank-you, anyway, and slipped the gun into her purse.

Mrs. Pidgin breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now, another thing...” She dug into the pocket again. Mary Elizabeth was beginning to feel decidedly like a knight in a medieval tale, being given magical gifts before setting off on a quest.

“Here’s my cousin’s phone number in Orlando and my sister’s in Gainesville. If you ever need help, anything whatsoever...”

Mary Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll call. I promise I will.” She took the slip of paper and filed that in her bag, as well.

“You have enough money?”

“Yes, and my credit cards, too. Don’t worry.”

Mrs. Pidgin took Mary Elizabeth’s smooth, slender hands in her plump, work-reddened ones. “I have only one more thing to ask.” Her voice lowered. “If things don’t work out for you, you’ve got to promise me you won’t let pride prevent you from coming back.”

Mary Elizabeth turned her head and gazed out the windshield toward the perfectly sheared shrubs gracing the perfectly manicured lawn that surrounded Charles Drum-mond’s perfectly perfect house.

“I can’t promise that,” she replied hollowly.

“I know it hurts now but—”

“Hurts? Learning you aren’t who you always thought you were doesn’t ‘hurt.’ It’s more like having your entire world turned inside out.” Or maybe, she thought, like discovering that gravity doesn’t work anymore. Your footing is gone and you’re spinning away from everything that’s familiar, out of control, with nothing to hold you safe.

Turning, she saw that the housekeeper’s red-rimmed eyes had filled again.

“But such a big step.”

Mary Elizabeth pulled her hands away and placed them tentatively on the steering wheel. There was nothing tentative about her voice, however, when she said, “I have no choice. I have to go. There’s nothing left for me here. Charlie’s in London doing graduate work, and Susan has her own family to keep her busy. We were never close, anyway. All I have, really, is you.”

Mrs. Pidgin wiped her eyes and rasped a string of curses, all directed at Charles Drummond.

“Don’t be angry with him, Mrs. P. It couldn’t have been easy for him all these years, either. Every time he looked at me, he must’ve been reminded of my mother’s infidelity. Actually, he did more for me than anyone in his position was obligated to do.”

“Ayeh,” Mrs. Pidgin affirmed bitterly. “All those insulting lectures, all that criticism... and the restrictions he imposed! It’s a wonder you didn’t choke on all he did for you.”

Mary Elizabeth shook her head. “He was instilling values, Mrs. P. Punctuality, neatness, frugality. I have no complaints. Just the opposite. I led a privileged life here. Just look at the house where I was raised. I had the best clothes, went to the best schools....”

“Only because he was afraid. If he didn’t give you those things, same as he gave your sister and brother, people might wonder why he’d singled you out. And if there’s one thing your...Charles can’t abide, it’s having folks think anything’s wrong here. He’s the proudest fool I ever met.”

“You’re right. And that’s the reason—one of the reasons—I’m leaving. I don’t want him feeling shamed or unable to hold up his head in town just because I refuse to get married.”

“Just? There’s no ‘just’ about it.”

“Right again. Getting married is hardly a trivial step.” Mary Elizabeth smiled, trying to shift the conversation onto a more cheerful path. “Besides, it’s past time for me to leave the nest. I’m practically ancient, Mrs. P.” But the brightness slid from her voice when she said, “I need my independence. I want to finally be free.”

The two women fell quiet. Outside the motor home, birds chirped noisily in the maples that bordered the property. The foliage looked played out, even a little tired. The calendar might say it was still summer, but the sky was too blue, too dry and clear. Change was in the air.

Finally, the older woman said softly, “You’ll call me when you reach your friend’s, won’t you?”

“Of course. And you won’t tell Charles where I’ve really gone until I tell you it’s safe?”

“Ayeh.” Mrs. Pidgin gazed at her a long, worried moment. “Well, I can’t think of anything else, so maybe we should get on with your packing. Is there much more?”

“Only the rocker from my room and the cat.” Mary Elizabeth rose and the woman followed. But at the door of the RV, Mary Elizabeth turned. “Before I go, I’d like you to know...” She fidgeted self-consciously with the buttons on her jacket. “I mean, what I want to say is...” She swallowed, and then simply wrapped Mrs. Pidgin in a fierce hug. The woman patted her consolingly while tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.

“I know. I love you, too, Mary Elizabeth.”

* * *

EVEN THE PHONE BOOTH brought a smile to Pete Mitchell’s eyes. You just didn’t see those things anymore, only the open half-shells that looked like something out of Star Trek and didn’t exactly encourage a guy to linger or say anything personal.

The glass bi-fold door closed with a familiar squeak-thump, recalling hot summer nights, cheap after-shave, and dialing Sue Ellen Carlisle’s number while friends serenaded him with cat calls and whistles from the drugstore corner.

Pete lifted the receiver, noted the rotary dial and got the urge to call everybody he knew. He called his office.

Outside the booth, morning sunshine glittered over the dewy, deep green lawn in front of the Rest E-Z Motel. Old Adirondack chairs, ignorant of the fact that they had become a hot new item in backyard furniture, dozed under a stand of maples and birches.

Pete lowered himself to the booth’s small metal bench as the call went through. He tried to cross his legs, rest his right ankle over his left knee, but his long limbs kept knocking into things.

He heard a click, and then, “Mitchell Construction.”

“Brad?” he said, surprised to hear his brother’s voice.

“Pete?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey. How ya doin’, man?”

“Great. What are you doing answering the phone?”

“Oh, I thought I’d goof off, sit around and drink coffee. My boss is gone for ten days.”

Pete knew Brad was kidding, at least he hoped he did, but that didn’t stop his stomach from tightening. They were already two weeks behind on the McKenna house.

“Did the shipment of drywall come in?”

“Hey, you’re on vacation. You’re not supposed to be thinking about work. Remember?”

Pete sent a daddy longlegs flying off his boot with a flick of a finger. “So, did the drywall come in?”

His brother chuckled. “No. I just called, though—that’s what I’m doing here at the office—and it’s on its way. Should be here tomorrow.”

“Good. Get the men on it right away, as many as you can spare.”

“I will.” After a short pause Brad said, “So, did you get it?” His voice contained a smile.

As did Pete’s when he replied, “Get what?”

“The measles. Jeez Louise! You know what.”

Pete laughed. “Yeah, I got it.”

Brad whooped. “Oh, man! That’s great. So, tell me about it. Is she as sweet as the ad promised?”

“Sweeter. What a beauty, Brad. I even brought her into my motel room with me last night. Couldn’t get enough of looking at her.”

“Good price?”

“For a mint-condition ‘53 Triumph, the exact same model Brando rode in The Wild One ? Yeah, it was a good price. Well, a little steep. The old man knew what he had. But she’s worth it.”

“I can’t wait to see it. Where are you now?”

“Still in New Hampshire, west side of Lake Winnipesukee, about forty miles south of where I bought the bike, although I must’ve put a hundred and forty on it yesterday up in the mountains.” He paused, his sharp builder’s eye sweeping the grounds.

“I wish you could see the motel I stayed in last night, Brad. Separate cabins, each about the size of a garden shed, painted this bright fifties aqua. It’s the genuine article, too, not some fake retro setup with an eye on the nostalgia buck. I’m calling from a phone booth outside the motel office ‘cause there aren’t any phones in the rooms.”

“And you’re having a good time?”

“The best.” He hadn’t taken a vacation like this in so long he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed being on the road, totally alone and freewheeling—how much he needed it. His construction business had thrived this past year, and he’d been working full-tilt all that time, unaware of the wear and tear on his body as well as his spirit. But already he felt better, and he’d been gone from home a mere two days.

“Only you, Pete. Only you.” Brad laughed. “So, are you still going to ride her home?”

“That’s the plan.” That had always been the plan. Pete had flown up from Tampa on a one-way ticket, with only a duffel bag and a certainty of his luck.

“What I’d like to know is,” Brad said, “what are you gonna do with one more antique motorcycle?”

“Love her, cherish her, till the road runs out for either one of us, what else?”

Brad chuckled. “That reminds me, somebody stopped by the apartment yesterday who maybe wishes you’d think about her in those terms.”

Pete was glad his brother couldn’t see his face. He suspected it had fallen to somewhere around his knees. “Sue Ellen?” he asked, trying not to hesitate. Hesitation might give his brother the impression he cared more than he did.

“Uh-huh.”

“What did she want?”

“Came by to hand-deliver her reply to our wedding invitation.”

“Cutting it close, wasn’t she?”

“Sure was. Jill had to call the country club last night with a final count.”

Pete swallowed. “So, is she coming?”

“Of course. She is Jill’s cousin, after all.”

Pete got to his feet and moved around the phone booth like an agitated tiger in a too-small cage. Two teenage girls, walking slowly in his direction and trying to pretend they weren’t checking him out, giggled.

Brad said, “I’m reluctant to give people advice, especially my older and so-much-wiser brother, but now that her divorce is finalized, this might be a good opportunity for you to explore the possibility of getting back with her. She’s a gorgeous lady, Pete, and if you ask me she’s still real interested in you.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“No? Then how come she’s been calling you three times a week? How come she’s been coming by the office?”

“She’s thinking of renovating her house, dummy.”

“A house that was built only six years ago? Come on, Pete, open your eyes.”

Brad was getting a real kick out of this. So were their sisters, Pam and Lindy. They saw it as the ultimate romance, Pete and Sue Ellen, high school sweethearts, getting back together after fifteen years of unfortunate separation.

Pete saw it as a good time to hit the road.