The Truth About Mallory Bain (8 page)

I let out a quiet laugh. “His blessing you're old-fashioned about.”

“He'll appreciate my respect. I want him to like his new son-in-law.”

“He does like you. And he will like you in three years after you finish grad school and we've started paying back your student loans.”

“I won't wait that long to marry you, Mallory.”

“Fine. Just not next week.”

“Next week is out anyway. I might head up to Canada. Come with and meet my family.”

“I could. It's been awhile since you went.”

Ben snuggled me close. “We'll manage. I love you, babe.”

“I love you back.”

We kissed until I pulled away giggling. “Enough now. They'll be here soon.” I tilted my head in the direction of the veranda. “Finish up out there.” I traced his lower lip. “Later.”

“We need steak sauce. I'll pick up anything else you need.”

I hesitated suggesting he stop at the pharmacy. “We're good.” I checked the clock. Nearly three. “Hurry back.”

A short while later, I shuddered when I passed the front window and caught a glimpse of black creeping toward the house from a few doors down. I pushed the drapery aside for a good look, and sure enough, there it was: Aunt Judith's station wagon with the crack running along the windshield, rust feeding upon the edges of its fenders and doors with malignance.

I let the drapery drop. I stood arms akimbo. Allowing that woman in the house was suicide. We'd formed such a festering bond of contention so long ago I had little memory of us being otherwise. For years, our conversations were a battle of wits.

Mom must have let slip they'd be away. Leave it to her sister to stop by uninvited when I was scrambling to prepare salads and make the house presentable for
invited
guests.

I dashed upstairs to hide Ben's duffel in Rick's closet before Judith pulled in the driveway. My brother had gone up north with our parents to visit Grandma Bain. If it hadn't been for finals, we would have gone, too, and skipped Chad's party altogether.

I pulled the closet door closed, satisfied my nosy aunt would pass on Rick's room, although I just knew she'd make it her mission to snoop around mine. She'd phone my mother and the argument
would start. I hurried back downstairs and out the French doors off the kitchen moments before the side door slammed.

“Mallory Anne!” her tinny voice droned.

Mind your manners. She'll leave quicker if you do.

“On the veranda!”

Judith appeared phantom-like the other side of the screen. A red casserole concealed the front of her narrow waist. She opened the screen and stepped outside.

She glanced at the set table. Judging my work, no doubt. “I see I wasted my time fixing your supper.” She looked me up and down, then tipped her head.

“Making dinner was thoughtful. Thank you.”

Her kindness tempted my well-buried ounce of compassion for her to surface. Although. Maybe her gesture was not an act of kindness. Maybe supper was her reason to check up on her single niece spending a weekend at home unsupervised.

“We invited friends over. Ben went for steak sauce.”

She blew out a
pffft
when she set the casserole down on the umbrella-covered table I'd set prettily for our guests. A drip of sauce spilled onto the table. I saw her notice but she left it.

A sudden breeze drifted through, and she paused as it pressed her skirt against her skeletal legs. Our eyes met. She glowered at my concern. Without one word about her thinness, she sauntered over to the lounge area of the veranda.

“That wind carried a chill,” she said. “We'll see a thunderstorm later on.”

I exhaled a little too loudly, I suppose, when she eased herself down into one of the cushioned wicker chairs.

Go ahead. Make yourself comfortable, because you plan on staying anyway.

“It's been too hot of a spring for me. Summer will be miserable,” she added. “The older I get, the more I hate the heat.”

“And humidity.”

“Agreed.” She was silent for a long awkward moment. Then she started in. “I hope your mother knows.”

“Meaning?”

“You entertaining while they're away. I imagine alcohol will be served.”

I walked over and placed my hands on the back of the empty chair across from her. I smiled sweetly. “Wine or beer?”

She tipped her head again. “Neither, thank you.”

A cluster of graying cloud puffs covered the sun, offering a reprieve from the glare. I shifted my sunglasses to the top of my head.

“You entertaining while your folks are gone. It's not right, you know. Especially the drinking.”

“We are four adults having a nice dinner.”

“I hear you're serious about marrying Ben. You're only twenty.”

“Twenty-one. Mom cannot keep a secret from you ever.” “Well. Are you?”

“Yes.” I smiled sheepishly. “He hasn't asked officially with a ring, but he's asking Daddy's blessing tomorrow.”

“Shows good manners. I sort of like that young man.”

I moved to the table to finish arranging the place settings and wipe away the sauce. “Jack Harwood and Dana Norris are coming over. You might have met Jack before.”

“Can't say.”

“You have met Dana.”

She uttered a
humph.
“The kooky girl.”

Judith watched me wind wired ribbon in and around the blue and yellow candles and the small pots planted with scented thyme I had arranged on the table earlier.

“It takes a good solid year to plan the perfect wedding, Mallory Anne.”

“I imagine it does.”

“You'll want the perfect dress.”

I smiled dreamily. “When I marry Ben, I will wear the perfect dress.”

“I want you to make smart decisions. You get too wrapped up in the moment and you don't always pay close attention and think things through. You take too much at face value.”

“I do try to make smart decisions.”

She paused a few moments, keeping her eyes on me. “When I mentioned entertaining, I wasn't suggesting . . . indecent . . .”

“Yes, you were. You enjoy finding fault.”

“Don't argue.”

I forced myself into silence. No point listing faults when no good would come of it. Hurting her feelings would bring my mother's wrath upon me and ruin my mood before finals.

Judith averted her gaze away from me to the expanse of the yard. I relaxed a moment in a chair across from hers and waited for Ben. I fixed upon her face. Expressionless and vacant graybrown eyes revealed twenty years of outrage over existing as a barren widow. I tried feeling compassion again, however, my heart recoiled against it.

“I hear your Grandma Bain is quite ill,” she said.

“I think she's dying.”

Judith sniffled. “I'm sorry.”

The sound of the bike's engine popping and rumbling low and steady heightened as it rolled up the driveway and stopped outside the middle garage door. Ben's bike was the part of him neither Aunt Judith nor my father cared for. The one point they agreed on, actually. Aside from that dangerous bike, they both did like him a lot.

“Your steak sauce is here.” Judith rose and walked over to the table. “I'll put this hotdish in the fridge for your folks and Rick to eat when they get back.”

“Dad and Mom know about this evening, by the way.”

She rolled her eyes at me and picked up the casserole to go back into the house.

Ben bounded up the stone steps all smiles. Strange as it seemed, he had once told me how he liked Judith the best of all my relatives because he thought I was her favorite.

His eyes sparkled when he thrust the plastic grocery bag at me. “Mrs. Johnston, it's great to see you again.” He ran his fingers through his golden hair before he extended his hand to my aunt.

She smiled and gently shook his hand. “Haven't bought a car yet, I see.”

Ben looked to me for direction. I peered into the grocery bag instead of bailing him out. When the weather was nice, we rode his bike. When the weather was bad, we drove my car, Aileen's hand-me-down. Simple set-up for us really, but not one we ever mentioned to Judith.

“What's in the dish?” he asked, avoiding further conversation about his motorcycle.

My family dynamics were no secret to him. Judith has always spoken without filters. Many of her opinions hold snippets of doctrine from various religions or from what she's read or heard on the news and TV talk shows. She blends all that information with superstition, then proposes strange concepts on life and death she believes are true.

Ben lifted the glass lid to view the contents topped with buttery crumbs. Insatiably hungry, he was drooling when he invited her to supper.

“I'll get another plate. Can I grab you a beer?” He ignored my scowl.

Judith tagged along after him. I followed, grumbling to myself how they'd pushed me into an awkward situation, having my aunt butt in on our plans.

Easygoing Jack would get along fine. Dana had met her a few times, but called her a joke. Judith is blood. Dana is not. And although I criticize, my friend needed to keep disparaging remarks to herself. It seemed at times though Dana disliked my aunt for no particular reason. But perhaps Judith had called her kooky to her face. Granted, I wasn't always paying attention.

My aunt settled herself out on the veranda with the cold bottle of ale Ben coaxed her into trying. She visited with him while he worked at the grill.

Jack and Dana arrived at a quarter past four. Jack headed outside and Dana helped me in the kitchen. She showed up wearing a sleeveless, white dress—mid-thigh hem, bare back, and a neckline scooped low enough to cool off more than I cared to have Ben see. She sliced the rest of the tomatoes and managed to keep her dress spotless.

During dinner, Aunt Judith leaned back in her chair and listened closely to Jack's views on foreign affairs. He believed he had a nose for investigative journalism. A tentative move overseas was in the works. He promised to keep us informed of any changes in his life, but made no mention of trouble.

Judith straightened in her chair. “I imagine your family is quite proud of you, Jack. I certainly would be if I were your mother.”

He hesitated.

“They keep to themselves,” said Dana.

Jack shot her a dark look.

Dana continued. “I've never met a single Harwood. I'll bet Ben hasn't, either.”

Ben ignored her.

“They will be attending graduation, certainly,” said Judith.

Jack bowed his head and laid his fork across his empty plate.

“Afraid not.”

Dana bowed her head, too. Ben and I exchanged looks. Without any conversation on the matter, I knew he, too, assumed a Harwood was to blame for Jack's discontent.

The breeze eventually changed to wind pushing ballooning clouds in front of the sun. I noticed Judith staring at the sky, her face inexpressive. I looked upward, too.

“Betcha there's tornado warnings for the suburbs again this evening.” She rose and shoved her vacated chair against the house.

“We better clean up then, eh?” Ben cranked the umbrella closed.

Judith looked to me. “I'll stay 'til the storm dies, if nobody minds.”

Ben said, “No problem, Mrs. Johnston. You're always welcome.” He grinned at me with a raised brow, his arms full of stacked plates.

Such a sucker for his cuteness, I smiled back, “Of course you are.”

Judith added, “Storm or no storm, my dogs are waiting for me.” She scooped ribbon and candles into her arms, tipped her head toward Ben and whispered, “You call me Aunt Judith from now on. No more Mrs. Johnston. You hear?”

Her fussing over him sickened me, but I knew his ear-to-ear grin meant he'd won her over for a lifetime.

“Okay. Aunt Judith,” he confirmed my hunch with his sweetest smile. “I can do that.”

I watched Jack join Dana leaning against the veranda railing overlooking the backyard. They took turns pointing at the lightning zigzagging across the darkening sky. He whispered in her ear; she whispered back. They smiled.

She does make him happy. Maybe I was all wrong about “sans Dana.”

“Looks like something major is going on there,” Jack called back to me, pointing to a round area with no grass.

I walked over to the railing. “My dad's latest project. Another patio. He has men coming out next week to enclose the garden area beside the garage with a small wall and lay stone in that round spot.”

A low, lingering rumble of thunder returned us to the table, and with everyone's help, we quickly finished gathering the remnants of our cookout into the house. Dana smiled sweetly and opened the screen door to let me into the kitchen.

She then disappeared into a distant part of the house while the rest of us finished arranging the patio furniture ahead of the
storm. The outside temperature dropped enough to do without the AC, but I cracked open a few windows away from the downpour for badly needed fresh air to clear the house of cooking odors.

Aunt Judith offered to carry a dessert tray to the family room, where everyone had gathered. Jack knelt in front of the fireplace poking at a small, crackling fire. I followed my aunt downstairs, but took Dana off-guard when I cleared my throat after hearing her say, “See ya, Chad.” The call meant nothing, except for her guilty look that took me off-guard.

The instant Jack saw us he jumped up, brushed his hands off on his jeans, and strolled about the room. He rubbed his palm over a well-polished doorframe, and then paused before a painting of Minnehaha Falls hanging above Grandpa's old roll-top desk. My parents would have liked how Jack appreciated the enduring traces of early-twentieth-century charm the house held.

His goblet swirled blood-red wine, and one by one, he inspected our family photographs lining the long mantel. He stopped and peered at my oldest brother's Army portrait.