My Heart Can't Tell You No (40 page)

PART II
 

THEIR PRESENT

CHAPTER XX
 

July 1984

I
t was nearly noon, time for Maddie to go to lunch, but when she was about to close the door to the store’s office Rodney approached her, looking frazzled.

“You got a minute for another customer?”

“Why?” laughed Maddie. Rodney could charm the rattles off a rattlesnake. The fact that he couldn’t deal with this customer made her curious.

“She’s very insistent on having you help her. She seems to think my opinion isn’t good enough—me being a man and all.”

“Sure.” Maddie looked around, but didn’t see anyone. “Where is she?”

“Over there, by the quilts.”

Maddie made her way around some tables and saw the customer who had been giving her head clerk a hard time. She was only a child; maybe ten or eleven, with beautiful long red hair. Maddie wished her own hair was as lovely as she approached the girl.

“Hello.” She smiled gently at her. “May I help you find something?”

The girl turned and looked up at her. She had long legs beneath her well-tailored shorts with matching pink top. The style was popular in the larger cities and with the wealthier children and teens in Sunbury, but most local children and teens couldn’t afford such clothing and were satisfied with cut-off denims from the previous winter. There was an air of superiority in the girl as she turned, but when she saw Maddie dressed in clothing as expensive as her own, her expression turned to interest.

“I’ve come to buy a quilt. My grandmother shops here and suggested I might find something for my father.”

“Did you ask your mother what colors she would prefer?”

“I said I was getting it for my father.”

“I know.” Maddie moved to the first rack of quilts, separating them for the girl to look at. “I mean, your mother would know what color scheme to follow for their bedroom.”

“My mother and father are divorced. She wouldn’t know.”

“Do you know the color of his bedroom?”

“No. I’ve never seen it. He just moved.”

The girl wasn’t much help, but from her tone Maddie suspected it was meant to be that way.

“Favorite color?” Maddie suggested.

“He never says.”

“What color does he wear the most?”

“He wears a lot of blue shirts I guess, and of course there’s the blue of his jeans.”

“Did you see his bedroom in the last place he lived?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what color his sheets were?”

“Different. Navy, grey, sometimes dark green.”

“Well, I don’t know about gray. But how about this one?” She pulled a quilt aside, its two contrasting colors being navy blue and bright green but when she looked at the price she frowned. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a little steep,” Maddie told her.

“It’s too heavy anyway. My dad doesn’t like heavy blankets. He sleeps with only a sheet and a blanket.”

“Not me,” Maddie said under her breath, moving down to the next rack of thinner quilts, finding one identical to the heavier one. “How about one like this?”

“I’ll take it. What do you mean—not you?”

“Well,” Maddie took the quilt off the rack for purchase,. “just that in the winter, I like to pile blankets on. My youngest son is the same way. Sometimes in the middle of the night when it’s cold out, he’ll run over to my bed and snuggle to keep warm.”

“Doesn’t your husband mind?”

Maddie looked down at the girl. She seemed to have quite a list of questions for a girl her age. “No. My husband is dead. He died in an automobile accident.”

“When?”

“A little over three and a half years ago.” Maddie took the quilt to the front of the store, prepared to keep it there until the girl’s grandmother came to pay for it or put it back for the girl to pay on installments. “When my youngest son was born.”

“What’s your name?”

“Madelyn Green. What’s yours? I’ll put this up for you, all right?”

“Fel-Phyllis. You don’t have to put it away. I’ll take it now.”

Maddie looked at the price tag. It was less than the first one, but she was positive a girl that age didn’t walk around with that kind of money in her pocket, even if her grandparents were wealthy. “Phyllis, this costs over two hundred dollars. If you don’t want it, I can understand. We can look for a less expensive one.”

“Do you own this?” The girl put $240 on the counter.

“Yes, I do.” Maddie glanced at the money, then looked over at Rodney. He stood close by, seemingly arranging shelves, but when he nodded his head, she started to write up a receipt, taking the money and giving her change.

“And you have children. Don’t you care for them?”

“I love them very much. They’re the most important people in my life. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here trying to build something for them when they’re grown.”

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way. Thank you very much, Mrs. Green. I’m sure my father will like it.”

“You’re welcome.” Maddie watched the girl pick up the quilt Rodney had put into a box and carry it out of the store. “You better know her,” she told Rodney, “otherwise we’ve just received stolen money.”

“I know her. Her grandparents live in my parents’ neighborhood. Don’t worry. She didn’t steal that money. They give her anything she wants. She was in the other day while you were out for lunch. I hate to tell ya this, but she already chose the quilt then. I watched her look it over and check the price. I’m not sure what she was doing today, but it looked like she was checking you out more than the quilts.”

“What for?” Maddie raised her brows.

“Who knows. The wealthy have funny ideas around here. Look at you. You get stranger with every dollar you put in that cash register.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t the one born with a silver suppository stuck up my . . . .”

“Now, now. Language,” smiled Rodney. “Okay, I was born into money. But I have no idea what she was checking you out for. And if you don’t go to lunch right now, I’ll leave before you get back. I’m hungry.”

“Do you want to go now? I can go after you.”

“No, go ahead.” He looked toward the front of the store as two more women entered.

“Then I’ll leave them to you. Make me some money, Rod—smile,” she teased quietly then turned and walked out the back door.

When Joe got home from work that day, he was tired and filled with frustration. They were getting a second helicopter at the hangar, and they were having trouble setting things up. The paperwork itself was immense and the mechanical problems were irritating the hell out of him.

July days were weighing him down with their humidity and ninety-degree weather. The macadam of the landing area reflected the sun back up until it was a carpet of searing heat six feet off the ground. When he got home he went straight for the shower, then decided to head up the hill and check in on Sarah. He waved at Jack, who was pushing a wheelbarrow full of humus to Sarah’s garden area, and Jack nodded in return. Once inside he found Sarah sitting in the air-conditioning on her recliner.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Joey.” Sarah put down the newspaper she had been reading.

“How are you today?” He touched her arm briefly before sitting opposite her.

“Tired. Getting claustrophobic. This heat won’t let me go outside.”

“Are you having trouble?”

“Lew’s getting out of the hospital tomorrow.” Her abrupt change of subject let him know that, yes, she was having some angina but felt it wasn’t worth discussing.

“Is he? He’s been in now for—what? Two weeks?”

“Three. He’s more than ready to come home.”

“Do you think he’s doing well enough to get around at home on the crutches?”

“You know Lew, he’ll manage,” she said as the telephone rang. “Get that will ya, Joey?”

Joe took the message, telling him Tom was to come in early that night, the sooner, the better. When he got off the telephone Sarah said Tom had been down at Maddie’s, watching the boys. He tried calling, but there was no answer; so he walked down the few hundred yards to her house. As Joe passed the open garage door, he found Tom in Maddie’s basement drilling through some wooden planks. Joe wasn’t sure what he was doing, but when he saw Robby and Jackie anxiously watching their uncle, with old paint cans opened, he realized it wasn’t a formal project.

“What’s up?” Tom asked when he saw him coming through the garage door.

“You got a call. They need you to cover for Anderson as soon as possible.” He moved closer to look at their project. “What are you building?”

“Paddles.” Tom glanced at his watch. “I told them if they didn’t behave like humans, we were going to make paddles to use on them.”

“And they needed to be painted all these different colors?” Joe looked at the brightly colored cans on the floor.

“Well they need flash don’t they? A lightning bolt here, a flame or two there, skull and crossbones, you know.”

“
Yeah
! We’re making paddles! They’re going to be great!” Robby said enthusiastically. “Mine’s gonna have my name on it and everything!”

Joe knew those paddles would be kept in pristine condition on shelves in their bedrooms; a token to be passed on someday with the story that Uncle Tom made them to keep the boys in line, somehow deleting the part of the story that said Uncle Tom would no sooner actually use them on the boys than go out and get run over by a train.

“Well,” Tom unplugged the drill and wrapped the cord before putting it in a cabinet and starting the clean-up. “This is gonna have to be finished some other time, Champ. Work calls.”

“But Mom doesn’t come home for two more hours,” Jackie said as he helped bang the lids back on the cans of paint.

“You have any plans for tonight?” Tom asked Joe. “Want a job babysitting?”

“Does it involve paddles?”

Three hours later Joe and the boys were still sitting in the living room, watching television and waiting for Maddie. He hoped she would return soon. He was tired.

“Where’d your Mom go?” he asked in exasperation as he leaned forward on the couch, lit a cigarette and rubbed his hand over his face.

“She’s late,” Jackie said simply from his area on the floor in front of the television.

“Yes. That much I’m aware of. But any idea where she might be?”

“She probably went out to relax.” Jackie turned the station when the credits began to roll on the program he had been watching.

“She has to relax after us,” Robby told Joe, climbing on the couch with him.

“Did she say that?” Joe leaned back and let him on his lap.

“No. Tom told us that. Tom says Mommy needs a medal to put up with us.”

“Does she go out to—relax—often?” Joe was feeling irritated.

“Uh-huh. All the time.” Robby reached for a toy on the end table then leaned back against Joe’s chest.

“How often does she leave you?”

“I dunno.”

“Jackie? How often?” Joe asked.