Chapter 18
Katie’s punishment was a first for both of us. Maybe one day she would understand it was necessary. I hoped that time came soon. Maybe I had been too hard on her. But when I thought about rape, pregnancy, STDs, HIV, abduction, death, I went too easy on her. Maybe I should lock her in her room and never let her out.
From the sofa I stared out the living room window, squinting against a stream of sunlight. Around me, workmen — an electrician and his helper, a plumber and his helper and a carpenter and his helper — worked hard to keep my house from catching fire, drowning in a flood and making it visually appealing.
Irwin didn't mind the renovations. Quite the opposite, in fact. He enjoyed it. Taking their tools from one place and setting them in another and turning the water back on was particularly funny to him. He nearly caused a fatality, though, when he threw the main switch for the power. I had no choice then but to step in and reprimand him, despite that it looked like I told the ceiling moldings a thing or two.
The men ran up and down the basement stairs, the main staircase and the attic stairs with pliers, wrenches and hammers dangling from the loops of their painter-style coveralls. I supposed the sorry state of the wiring and water pipes in the house warranted fast steps. Why the carpenter and his helper traveled the stairs was beyond me, since I hired him to frame the opening for the walls Alex had torn down. But I wouldn’t ask. It didn’t matter really. They worked by the job. Watching them tired me, though, especially after a night where sleep had eluded me.
I found it odd that one trade would allow another trade on the same job at the same time, but when Jack, the plumber — the shortest of the three and the one with most hair — told me they were all brothers and their helpers, cousins, that explained it. They gave new meaning to family-owned businesses. They probably held shares in each other’s companies.
When they’d pass through the hallway, they’d turn, nod, and say, “Ma’am.” I’d return their nods and say, “Bob,” “Joe” or “Jack,” depending on who did the nodding.
Joe, the electrician — the tallest of the three and the baldest — asked one time on his way by, “Have you thought about putting in an alarm system?”
“No, I haven’t.” But I liked the idea — armed and dangerous — and told him I’d think about it. My daughter might get the wrong idea, though, if I had one installed. So much I did lately revolved around how it would affect Katie. What would she think if I did this? How would she react if I did that?
Katie weighed heavily on my conscience. Her grunts in answer to my attempts at conversation that morning said she was displeased with me. My husband’s adultery. The divorce. Her rebellion. This house. The fault was all mine.
Did bad things happen to good people, or did bad things happen to bad people?
Or did bad things happen because we, the good or bad people, made them happen?
Was it my destiny to buy this house? I could just as easily have bought something else, somewhere else. It didn’t even need to be in this town. Family didn’t keep me in Sheffield. Jonathan would put up a fuss, though — one thing I needed less of — nor did I want to relocate, not really.
Why did a mother get to keep the kids in a divorce? It seemed unfair I did all the heavy lifting — discipline, monitoring their friends and activities, supervising homework, proper nutrition, seeing they slept on clean sheets and that their clothes were freshly laundered and ironed — and Jonathan reaped the benefits of my hard labor. He got to do the fun things with the children — popping popcorn and watching movies, roasting marshmallows, playing board games and going out for pizza and just hanging out with them. Though that wasn’t true in Katie’s case lately.
The whir of drills, the banging of hammers, the clang of wrenches and the sound of heavy footsteps kept me from thinking. I wanted to think. No. What I really wanted was a drink. I wasn’t a drinker, but felt I needed one … or two.
The grandfather clock chimed nine o’clock. I seriously considered spiking my Carnation Instant Breakfast with Kaluha. I had liberated the bottle last night from a packing box. It sat on the coffee table, inches away from me. All I needed to do was lean forward, extend my arm and grab hold of the pretty-shaped bottle with its pretty label and pour a dollop into my vitamin and mineral enriched breakfast. What harm would one drink do? And more than a dollop would take the edge off. No. One drink would lead to another, then another. I knew that from experience. That night after Jonathan told me he wanted a divorce, I opened a bottle of Chardonnay and didn’t stop drinking until the bottle was empty.
Something soft, like a feather, brushed across my ear. Irwin was up to his old games. I swatted him away. “Not now. I haven’t forgotten my promise to you. I'll go to the library the next chance I get.”
Jack, who happened down the main staircase at that moment, turned to me and asked, “Did you say something, ma’am?”
I shook my head, staring at the bottle of liqueur. “Just talking to myself.” I looked at him and smiled. He continued on his way with another nod.
Out of my line of vision I heard him say something, then came the sound of chuckles.
Footsteps sounded and I looked over to learn the identity of the one who laughed at me.
“Bob,” I called out to the carpenter.
He stopped, his face red from laughter, but managed a “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you know anyone who does hardwood floors?”
“A-1 Flooring.”
A man of few words. I liked that. “Let me guess. The owner is another brother of yours.”
A hand touched my shoulder. I shrugged it off. “I said not now.” Irwin was an impatient little bastard. He probably wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace until I found his parents.
The carpenter bowed his head and made a hasty move to leave.
“Hey, where’re you going?” He stopped abruptly and looked at me as though I needed counseling. Maybe I did. “Who should I ask for at A-1 Flooring?”
“Eugene.”
“Thanks. I’ll give him a call.”
Bob hurried up the stairs.
My thoughts turned to Christmas, then. The occasion I loved as much as snow was just around the corner. I looked around the room. There was so much work undone. The walls needed to be plastered and painted and the floors needed to be redone. The kitchen cabinets would be installed on Thursday. If I could arrange to have a plasterer finish the downstairs walls, I could paint. I never painted before, but how hard was it? Then the floors could be sanded and varathaned. If everything fell into place, it could all be finished in two weeks, with two weeks to spare before Christmas arrived.
Someone here must know someone who did plaster work, but for the first time since I arrived home from driving the children to school, I found myself alone. “Harrumph.” The workers were probably gathered around the upstairs toilet having a great laugh on me, the crazy woman downstairs.
Before I chased one of them down, there was something that needed to be done, a promise that needed to be fulfilled. I reached for the cordless phone and punched in Jonathan’s office number. After three rings, his secretary answered. “Captain Turner’s office.”
“Hi, Linda. Is my hus ... is Jonathan handy?”
“Sure, Mrs. Turner. I’ll patch you through.”
Jonathan came on the line a moment later. “Susan, what a pleasant surprise.”
I immediately became wary. He was too nice. “It is?”
He chuckled. “After the way we left things last night, I thought you’d never want to speak to me again.”
“Oh, that. I already forgot about it. Jonathan, I need a favor.” I was being cagey. If he thought I would owe him, he’d be more willing to accommodate.
“Sure. What is it?”
I inhaled deeply. “It’s about Katie and her weekend visits with you.” About now, that vein in his forehead would be throbbing like a pulse on crack.
“Go ahead.?
??
I heard the suspicion in his voice and gulped. “She thinks she’s too old to be spending a whole weekend with her father. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to spend time with you. She does. It’s just that she’s old enough to baby sit, yet she’s being baby sat. I know it’s not that way, but that’s how she sees it. I’m sure you can appreciate how she feels.”
“What do you suggest?”
God, that was a first. Jonathan asking me for a suggestion. “I thought maybe you could take her out for pizza, a movie, spend a couple of hours together, spread out over the weekend.”
“Sure, I have no problem with that.”
That was easy. Maybe too easy. My earlier feeling of wariness resurfaced. “Good. I knew you’d understand.” Uh-huh.
He sounded so receptive the thought entered my mind to tell him about Katie’s excursion last night. No, that would only lead to accusations. I decided to leave well enough alone and end this conversation on a pleasant note. “Well, good-bye, then and thanks for understanding.”
“Susan?”
“Yes?”
“Is it too late for us? Is there any chance we might get back together?”
For so long I had yearned to hear those questions. Now that I heard them, they angered me.
“No chance in hell.”