“Yes sir. Thank you. I will.”
*****
“Hi Karen," Susan Johnston cut Karen's birthday greeting short as the door swung fully open. Sue did a quick double take of Karen. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything," she said with a impish look, cocking her head to one side and smiling. Susan had a reputation of being a nosy neighborhood gossip and wise-guy.
“No, Sue. Come on in. Stan’s not home yet," Karen replied. They both noted the sound of sirens nearby.
“Really?" Susan didn’t try to hide her surprise at Karen's revelation and gave a brief forced smile. “Well he must not know what’s waiting for him," she said with obvious innuendo as she wagged a raised forefinger. She gave Karen’s attire another conspicuous once over and nodded toward the dining room table and lit candles. She sniffed her nose demonstrably acknowledging the fragrance of Karen’s perfume.
“Hmm, smells really nice Karen, the pasta too." She wagged another pointing finger at Karen.
“It’s Stan’s birthday," Karen explained.
Why am I telling her that. It’s none of her business. She failed to understand why she felt any need to explain the special setting to Sue.
“Okay. I won’t stay but a jiff, Karen. I’m taking up a collection for the PTA. It’s that time of year. I know Jenny’s a long way from going to school yet, but whatever you can give will be appreciated. Where is that husband of yours anyhow?”
“I guess he’s working late again," Karen said.
Knowing Susan as she did, Karen immediately wished that she had worded that differently. 'I guess?' Why did I say that? She took a couple of dollars from a ceramic canister on the kitchen counter, handed the money to Susan, and took a suggesting step toward the door.
“Thanks Karen. You say Stan's working late a lot? You probably ought to check your doors and windows good. There's been some neighborhood reports of some kind of Peeping Tom weirdo. Janie White said the cops call him the Baseball Cap Peeper. That might be what those sirens were about.
“Peeping Tom?” Karen asked.
“Yep. Meg White was one I heard about that saw him looking into her bedroom and called the cops. And listen honey, you better keep an eye on that good looking husband of yours too," Susan said with a wink and smile. “He’s a hunk, you know.”
Karen's face flushed.
“I’d better be getting on. Need to hit a few more houses before it gets too late. Say hi to Stan for me," she chuckled, “when he finally gets home from work; or whatever he's doing." She snickered again as she turned and opened the door to leave. She didn’t see blistering anger flare up on Karen’s face. It was all Karen could do to keep from slamming the door behind her.
The nerve of that blabber-mouth. 'He's a hunk, you know.' '...what ever he's doing.' Susan's seed of suspicion quickly sprouted.
“Where the devil is he anyhow?” Karen said aloud.
The combination of her surprise dinner plans going sour, and her nosy neighbor’s chattering suggestions caused unusual emotions to flare up in Karen. She was normally composed and not easily flustered, but the exchange with Susan infuriated her. She hastily stuffed the uneaten food into the refrigerator. She slammed doors and drawers shut as she put away dishes and utensils. She made a quick inspection of windows and doors and then poured a glass of wine for herself. She stomped to the bedroom where she changed into pajamas. She laid on the bed with a magazine and tried to relax. By nine thirty, the wine did it’s work and she was asleep. Stan slipped quietly into the house a half hour later and went straight to bed.
*****
Before Karen woke, Stan was up, showered and dressed. He opened the refrigerator door to get some juice, and saw the skillet of left over spaghetti and meat sauce. He swiped his finger in the sauce and licked it, regretting that he hadn’t made it home in time for dinner.
“I see you did finally make it home," Karen said with cool sarcasm, as she stepped into the kitchen doorway.
She leaned against the doorway with both hands in her terry housecoat pockets and looked at Stan. Her hair was disheveled and her jaws were tense.
“Oh, morning Kare," he said as he closed the refrigerator. “I’m sorry. I got carried away at work and the time just flew by. Before I knew it, it was after nine."
He moved toward her to offer apologetic affection but she brushed by him and started the coffee maker. Then Stan noticed the birthday cake on the counter.
Jesus, I completely forgot! No wonder she‘s miffed. “I’m sorry, Kare," he repeated.
“You could have called, Stan. But, I guess I’m learning not to expect it." She didn’t look in his direction as she spoke the chilling words.
“You’re learning what? I said I’m sorry Kare. I really am. I honestly forgot the date. Honey, I appreciate you fixing spaghetti for me and the cake too. And I know you have trouble understanding it, but my work is so intense and I get so wrapped up in what I’m doing— This project that I‘m working on, the Compton job is behind schedule and it’s really putting a lot of pressure on me. I just grabbed a snack out of a machine at work for supper.”
“Are you sure it’s just work, Stan?"
Her tone and words were unmistakably accusative. She poured a cup of coffee, walked to the breakfast bar, and sat on a stool. She studied his face for any sign of deception or guilt.
“What do you mean Karen?" Her question chafed him. “What the devil do you think it is? Listen, I don’t enjoy the doggone pressure and all the hours I have to work. It’s just what it takes. It‘s my job. It pays the bills." He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be late for a meeting with Charlie and some people from Compton." He softened his tone. “I’ll try to get away early today. Maybe we can do something together, go out to eat or something."
He came near to kiss her but she brought her coffee cup to her mouth. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and left. Her only response was to stare into her coffee cup as though it would yield an answer to questions that were vexing her. She continued to sip coffee in deep thought. After a while, she cooled and began to wonder if she was just being silly and overly demanding. But then she recalled the effort that she had put into preparing last evening’s supper for Stan, and her irritation returned. You better keep an eye on that good looking husband of yours. He's a hunk you know. The seed of suspicion had fully sprouted and was growing with the water of circumstance.
Just then, Jenny came into the kitchen carrying a stuffed giraffe and the sight of her brightened Karen’s spirit and relieved her suspicious thoughts. She was glad that she wasn't scheduled to work today. She would enjoy the day with her darling child.
Stan phoned home later in the day. “Kare, listen, I’m sorry but I may be just a little late again, not more than a hour or two. Can we just have the left over spaghetti?” he asked. “Maybe we can go out to dinner this weekend.”
“Fine. Why not." she answered, not trying to hide her frustration. She heard a woman’s voice laughing in the background. “Who’s that laughing, Stan? What’s going on down there?" she asked. Her face flushed.
“Oh, it’s just Jan and Keith," he answered. Stan should have sensed a need to elaborate, but he didn‘t. He was too preoccupied with his work.
“See you tonight, Kare." He hung up.
Karen banged the phone down. ‘Just Jan‘? Disturbing suspicious thoughts about Jan Murray, flashed through Karen's mind. The sound of Jan’s laughter echoed like a rifle shot in the Grand Canyon.
While she was doing laundry, Karen recalled the first time that she met Stan’s co-worker. His employer held a appreciation dinner for employees for a outstanding business year. Karen and Stan were seated at a table with Stan’s manager, Bob Steen, his wife Linda, and two other couples. They were discussing some work issues when a beautiful young woman, in a low-cut skin tight dress, stepped behind Stan’s chair, reached around his face, and covered his eyes with her
hands.
“Okay, guess who," she drawled.
“Aw, Jan, I’d know that Texas drawl anywhere," Stan answered. She removed her hands, bent her face over his head from behind, and smiled at him. His head brushed against her low cut blouse as he looked up and returned her smile. Karen’s face reddened.
Stan introduced Jan and Karen with a flare that reflected the two martinis that he had consumed all too quickly. “Jan, this is my beautiful wife, the renowned Mrs. Karen Bronsky. Karen, this is Ms. Jan Murray, my teammate in programming adventure at CTC.”
Jan stepped toward Karen to shake hands with her. When she did, a perfectly shaped and beautifully tanned leg revealed itself through a teasing split in her shimmery red skirt.
It seemed to Karen, that Jan’s southern drawl sounded a bit forced. It also seemed to Karen, that Jan could have dressed more conservatively for a family event. Later, as they drove home, Karen voiced her opinions about Jan and her attire to Stan.
“Oh Karen, Jan is just, well, she’s just Jan. I doubt that she can help her accent. She always sounds like that. She is a little full of herself. And as for her choice of clothes, well, her clothes are just like her, loud and showy. But I don’t pay much attention to her or her clothes. We don’t work all that close. She and Keith work closer. She’s never been much help to me. I'm not sure that she's much help to anyone else, to be honest. They probably hired her for her looks. Charlie is like that. I try to just do my job and let sleeping dogs lie.”
“So you’re honestly not attracted to her at all?" Karen asked, checking his face. “I find that awfully hard to believe.”
“Trust me, Karen, I’m not the least bit interested in Jan Murray." He put his arm around her as they waited for a traffic light to change. “Jan Murray is not my type. You're my type sweetheart, and you’re all the woman I’ll ever need.”
‘Not the least bit interested,’ Karen replayed the words to herself, as she folded clothes. She reflected on their phone conversation and Stan’s explanation about the laughter in the background. ‘Just Jan.‘ With a scowl on her face, she repeated Stan‘s words in her mind. She did so several times during the afternoon while she occupied herself with house cleaning chores. Just Jan. She tried to forget about the phone call and the suspicious laughter but it seemed that the harder she tried, the more the unwanted thoughts kept popping into her mind, like weeds in her flower garden.
Stan was home by 7:30. Karen and Jenny had already eaten. Karen was bathing Jenny. This time there were no fancy table settings, no provocative dress, no enticing perfume, no candles or wine. Stan ate alone at the breakfast bar. After he had enjoyed two helpings of spaghetti, he rinsed his plate and moved to the family room where he turned on a TV and sat down on the couch. He channel surfed for a bit and settled on a wildlife program. Karen finished bathing Jenny and dressed her in pajamas. The intensity of Karen’s irritation had gradually subsided. She let the toddler join her father in the family room while she took a bath.
Jenny sat on the couch close to Stan and played with a doll, while he watched television. At the next break, he tickled Jenny’s foot and she started giggling. He wiggled the tickling finger teasingly over her and dived it toward her tummy which produced even louder giggling, as they both fully expected. The tickle finger then hid behind a throw pillow and leaped out to relentlessly attack her ribs. She laughed so hard she could hardly breathe.
Nightfall was settling in, and Stan stretched his right arm to turn on a lamp by the side of the couch. As he did, a paralyzing pain shot up the back of his head. His arms flailed involuntarily and he accidentally struck Jenny with an elbow while at the same time knocking the lamp over with his other arm. The porcelain lamp shattered on the hardwood floor and it’s bulb popped like a firecracker. Jenny, more scared than actually hurt, let out a shriek and Stan, at the same time, yelled, “Jesus Christ!” Karen rushed into the room still buttoning her pajama top. Jenny ran, crying and reaching out to her mother.
“What happened?" Karen anxiously demanded, sweeping Jenny up into her arms and looking at Stan with a stern accusing look.
Stan was bent forward with his hands cupped around the top of his head. He was unable to speak because of intense pain. Jenny didn’t realize that Stan had struck her because it happened so fast.
“Stan, what the devil happened in here?" Karen repeated her interrogation. Her irritation at Stan was back in full force. She hugged Jenny close and comforted her.
Stan regained enough of his senses to speak.
“I’m sorry Kare. Bad pain in my head” he grimaced without looking up, “I accidentally knocked the lamp over. I guess the noise scared Jen. Would you get me a couple of aspirin?”
He didn’t realize that he had accidentally struck the child.
“You scared me to death, Stan!" She continued to calm and comfort Jenny. “It’s okay honey; just a boo boo.”
“Could you please bring me some aspirin, Karen," Stan pleaded, motioning toward the kitchen. The pain was persistent.
When Karen had sufficiently comforted Jenny, until her crying had completely stopped, she found a bottle of aspirin and tossed it to Stan. He managed a word of thanks, but wondered why she seemed to be so angry with him over a silly lamp.
“You need to get a broom and clean up your mess,” Karen commanded.
Chapter 4
On a windy Saturday in March, Stan and Jenny walked to an empty field near the railroad, behind the Benton's home, carrying a kite. It was white with a red tail and had a big picture of a Dalmatian on it. While father and daughter played with the kite, Karen went shopping for Easter clothes for Jenny. Stan operated the kite until it was airborne. As it swung to and fro in the wind, he made barking sounds to entertain Jenny. She laughed and imitated his barking sounds. Once the kite had achieved a good altitude, he let her hold the string.
“You have to keep the string tight Jen and don‘t let go. We don‘t want our doggie to get away."
But it wasn’t long until Jenny allowed slack in the string and the kite began to descend. Stan swept her up with his arms. In a rushed attempt to tighten the string, he ran into the wind, and away from the kite. She giggled gleefully as she saw the kite begin to fly higher and felt the tugging of the string. He watched the kite over his shoulder, as he ran, and failed to notice a depression in the ground. His foot found the hole and they both tumbled to the ground. As they fell, Jenny let go of the string.
“Are you okay Jen?" he asked. He quickly picked her up, checked her face, and dusted her off.
“I ohkaay," she answered and giggled. Then she realized that she no longer held the kite string. The kite was rapidly gaining altitude and distance.
“Unhhhh!" She complained, pointing at the wayward kite.
“Unh, you're right pumpkin. Our doggie kite is gone. Dog gone!" Stan said, as he shook his head. “Dog gone.”
*****
Karen browsed through children clothes at a discount store and picked out a pink and white chiffon dress and a white loose knit sweater for Jenny. Then she found a ribbon of matching colors to make a bow for her hair, and a pair of glossy white shoes to go with the outfit. After that, she picked out a Easter basket filled with colorful treats that surrounded a stuffed rabbit. She smiled as she examined the basket's contents. Memories of her own childhood Easter baskets danced through her mind.
“Hey little girl, can I have a piece of that candy in your basket?” a voice behind her said.
She turned to see a tall handsome man grinning at her. Karen studied him for a minute before recognizing him.
“Phil?” she asked. “Phil Cooper?”
Karen knew Phil from her childhood neighborhood. They attended elementary school and the first two years of high school together. Then Phil’s family moved away from the neighborhood. They had not seen each other since. Phil was dark tanned, well groomed, and well dressed. He had a strong physique and handsome
face.
“Sure is," he replied.
“I hardly knew you,” she said as she looked into his blue-gray eyes.
“Well I’d know you anywhere, Karen Dorhman. You’re just as cute as ever!"
She blushed.
“Is it still Dorhman? Of course it’s not," he answered himself, pointing at the Easter basket and child's clothing in her shopping cart. He reached to shake her hand.
“No. No, it’s not. It’s Bronsky now. This is for my daughter Jenny. She’s two. She shook his extended hand.
He looked deep into her eyes and continued to hold onto her hand. She felt uncomfortable with the lingering eye and hand connection and gently pulled her hand away. She glanced briefly at his wavy brown hair.
“I knew I should have kept in touch with you," he said as he relaxed his own hand. “Wow! Just look at you! After we moved, it just seemed like there was no sense calling you. I mean, I didn’t have a car or anything; and there wasn’t a train out there in the boonies where we lived.”
Her thoughts sprang back in time to tenth grade at Seville High. She had long forgotten the crush she had on Phil back then. Phil was a letter star on the football team with a outgoing personality. She was a tom-boyish but timid bookworm. She often walked home from school with Phil. Sometimes, they played street games with other kids after school. She secretly wished back then, that he would show more interest in her. But he was more interested in Kim Wuester, one of the Seville cheerleaders.
“How about you Phil, married?" She wished he would stop staring. She couldn’t help noticing that he had become a very handsome man.
“Yes, but I don’t take it too seriously." He grinned broadly and winked at her. She turned her face away and tried not to grimace at his cheesy remark.
“Any children? Where do you live?” she asked.
“No. We’ve never had time for that. I travel a lot and so does my wife. I’m head of marketing for a sporting goods company and Sheila’s a mile high hostess." He stretched his arms out and made soaring motions. We have a house in Connecticut and another in L.A."