Mortal Mistakes
Jenny was about to release her finger reddening grip from the side rails of a four foot toddler slide. Her fear and judgment told her to not let go. But, her little arms were tiring. She didn't have the strength to scoot back uphill a short distance to the top of the fearful precipice. She had been sitting there for a few minutes trying to summon enough courage to let go as she had seen other children do. The fear on her face turned to delight as she finally lost her grip and slowly began the downhill ride. She quickly stepped through the cushioning sand below the slide, and rushed to repeat the experience. As she ran, the hood of her jacket fell backwards exposing her beautiful, shoulder length, curly brown hair. She stumbled on the steps of the slide in her haste to climb to the top again. Robert continued to watch her with undivided fascination.
During her fourth descent, Jenny noticed the squatting stranger watching her from outside the fence. When she had completed the ride, she ambled the twenty foot distance to near the fence where Robert was squatting. His heart swelled and his smile broadened. Neither of them spoke. He never took his eyes off the little girl and she studied him with innocent curiosity.
Robert surmised that he had not seen such a beautiful child since his mother was still with him, when his sister Marge was little. That was before he and Marge spent time in a foster home and orphanage.
He wished he had a piece of candy or gum to give Jenny. Then he remembered that he had a plastic bag in his coat pocket with left-overs from last night. He smiled at her and motioned with his right forefinger for Jenny to come closer. With scant caution, Jenny moved within arms-length of Robert. He reached into his right coat pocket and removed a small reddish morsel from a plastic bag. He guided the offering through the fence. With two fingers, he wiggled the gift and extended an invitation to Jenny with his eyes and nodding head. Her little hand came up to receive the treat. He opened his mouth and touched his right forefinger to his tongue, instructing her with his illustration to taste the gift. She started to place the bit of red meat into her mouth as Robert was presenting a second offering through the wire.
"What are you doing?" shouted Mrs. Obenhauer, as she shot into the play lot from the side doorway. She was taking huge leaping strides toward Jenny. Startled, Jenny dropped the treat to the ground. It left a feint smudge of dull red on her lower lip near the left corner of her mouth. Her thumb and forefinger were similarly stained.
Robert was shaken. He lurched to his feet before completely retracting his fingers from the fence. The rough galvanized wire cut his index finger and blood dripped from the wound. He jammed the finger to his mouth, in a reflex action. He spit blood toward the ground, striking his treasured newspaper, which he dropped when the elderly woman yelled.
Mrs. Obenhauer shouted again, "What are you doing? Get away before I call the police! Get away from here!" She grabbed the child and quickly backed up two steps. Her feet spread defensively. Her facial expression was menacing. She noted the blood on Robert’s hand. Her eyes hurriedly searched Jenny's face and hands for any injury. Some of Robert's bloody spit still draped from his lip, and more of it stretched down the fence.
Robert was flustered and shaken. Excuses ricocheted through his mind but he reasoned quite correctly, that it would be of no use to attempt conversation with the livid old woman. He looked anxiously in all directions and concluded thankfully that no one else had witnessed the incident. The little girl began to cry louder. The squealing sound of Jenny’s crying pierced his ears. He turned and hurried away, toward Scotty's. His rapid departure caused his heart to pound and his breathing was heavy. Mrs. Obenhauer's reproachful tone brought back unpleasant memories of times when he hid in his bedroom closet, when he was yelled at in the orphanage.
He hurried left on Market street and was soon at Scotty’s.
*****
Mrs. Obenhauer hugged Jenny and hastily carried her inside for closer inspection. Big tears streamed from Jenny’s beautiful blue eyes. Mrs. Obenhauer was relieved to find no cut or bruise on the child. She reckoned the dull red smudges on Jenny to have originated with the suspicious stranger. She reasoned that somehow he had gotten blood onto Jenny‘s face and hand. She fetched a warm wet wash cloth and gently cleansed the child’s face and hands.
Having retrieved the rest of the children from the playground and initiated nap time, Mrs. Obenhauer reflected on the recent activity from the comfort of her rocking chair. The sleepy motion of the rocker abruptly stopped, when she realized that Jenny might have been exposed to contaminated blood from the strange man. She hurried to her medicine cabinet and brought alcohol and a fresh wash cloth. She briskly scrubbed the affected areas of Jenny‘s hand and mouth. Jenny cried out under the force of the scrubbing and the offensive smell and struggled to pull away. The more that Jenny struggled, the firmer Mrs. Obenhauer constrained her, and the more frightened Jenny became.
"It's all right child. Just hold still. We have to get all of the old bad blood off your face! We don't want any bad blood on you!" Mrs. Obenhauer sternly said. “Baaad blood." she repeated. When the cleansing was complete, Mrs. Obenhauer rocked Jenny to calm her until the toddler’s whimpering ceased and she had fallen asleep.
After more pondering of the encounter with the stranger and various possible consequences, Mrs. Obenhauer gathered a scrub brush and a bucket of hot soapy water. Having assured herself that all of the children were asleep and safe, she hurried outside and thoroughly scrubbed Robert's bloody spit from the fence. As she did, she noticed the headline on the blood splotched newspaper lying outside the fence,
MISSING MOTHER AND CHILD, the headline read.
She turned and raced frantically back inside to check her flock. She quickly inventoried to make sure none were missing. Having satisfied herself, she took up her position in the rocking chair again. I wonder who in the world he was. What did he want with Jenny? Did he mean to harm her? Why was he bleeding? Could he have anything to do with the newspaper story. Mrs. Bronsky might be horrified if she knew about this. She decided that she would spare Jenny’s mother any concern. Still, she was troubled throughout the remainder of the day. She knew that she probably should report the incident to the police. But she also reasoned that it might cause some of her clients to move their children elsewhere.
*****
"In a hurry to get to work today, Robert," Jack Scott asked? He noticed Robert hurriedly arrive for work. Robert barely heard the question. He was thinking about the little girl in the play lot and about the newspaper that he dropped.
Jack Scott was unconcerned that Robert didn't answer his question. The two seldom talked much.
Chapter 9
Karen worked alone in the gallery through mid-day. She spent most of the morning just sitting at a small antique oak desk in the rear of the store. From there she could see the glass front door, and through it, she had a narrow view of the street in front of the store. An absence of customers allowed her opportunity to think about Stan’s recent behavior and to recall happier times in their marriage. She thought about their first date. Then she recalled the two of them bringing Jenny home for the first time. She thought about their first Christmas with Jenny, and the second.
Since it was such a beautiful spring day, many nearby workers used their lunch breaks to stroll the sidewalks and window shop. Some occasionally paused to survey paintings and art supplies on display through a window in the front of the Chantley Gallery.
A doorbell chimed once, announcing the entrance of a young couple. They meandered Hand in hand into the studio and began to examine paintings.
Karen rose from her seat and greeted them. "May I help you?" she asked. "My name is Karen."
"We're just looking around," the young man replied.
“Good." Karen said, “Take your time. It‘s a lovely day, isn‘t it?”
The young man draped his arm around the lower back of the girl. They each looked into the others eyes and smiled. Th
e body language of both spoke of passionate, immodest love. Karen noted the wedding bands on their hands. Such a young pair to be married, Karen thought as she studied the girl who didn’t look to be more than sixteen. She had long black hair that almost reached her waist. It was shiny and the lower third of it was curly. A silvery hair band glistened on top of her head.
"We're looking for something to put over our couch," the girl said, smiling affectionately at her husband. "I'm Sheri. This is Danny."
Danny didn’t look to be older than Sherri. He had wavy blonde hair that touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark brown. He had a short goatee.
"I'm very pleased to meet you both," Karen replied. "Did you have something particular in mind?"
"No, not really, Sheri answered, our couch is sort of light blue. Did you paint these yourself?" She waved her arm across a wall of paintings.
"No, I'm afraid I'm not that talented," Karen answered. "My friend, Paula Chantley, did most of them. She owns the studio. Did you have something particular in mind?"
Karen was so absorbed in studying the transparent affection between the two that she didn’t realize that she had repeated the question.
Dan took charge of the conversation. "We're just getting started and don't have much, but each other." He looked down lovingly into Sheri's sparkling green eyes. She returned his look with equal warmth.
Karen wondered when she and Stan had last exchanged such a passionate loving gaze. How long has it been? God, I don’t even remember.
"Did your friend paint that one?" Sheri asked. She pointed to a pale winter landscape on the wall.
"Yes she did," Karen answered, looking at the painting.
It was a wintry country scene with a pale blue cast done in oil. In the foreground a happy young couple and a dog were playing in the snow. There was a cozy snow covered cottage in the background with snow capped evergreens surrounding it. Smoke drifted from a chimney and warm inviting lights filled the cottage windows. Karen could see why two young lovers would relate to this creation of Paula‘s. Her thoughts carried her back to last December when she and Stan spent an afternoon in Indian Lake park, playing in snow with Jenny. She remembered the fun they all had. She recalled Stan's warm embraces and tender kisses. ‘You know you love it‘, she remembered his words as he rubbed snow in her hair.
"How much?"
"I‘m sorry?" Karen's thoughts were interrupted.
"How much is the painting?" Sheri repeated. “It's really pretty!"
"Oh. Of course. Let me check my book. I think Paula may have reduced the price on that one because of winter being over."
Karen found her price book and thumbed through a few pages.
"Yes, here it is. It was four hundred, now just two twenty five. That's a great price for a Paula Chantley original. Some of her paintings sell for much more."
Paula preferred to do surrealistic work. But being a pragmatic business person, she more often produced whatever it took to pay the bills. She could produce a painting like the winter scene in little more than an hour.
The young couple each looked into the others eyes for agreement. Karen could feel growing envy. I know Stan has looked at me that way before. And I’ve looked at him that way too. When did it stop? Why did it stop?
"We'll take it!" Dan said with a broad smile, continuing his view into Sherri’s eyes.
Karen thanked them and wished them well as hand in hand, they left the shop,. Then she retired to the desk in the rear corner of the gallery. She settled into her chair again and thought of the two young lovers, and of herself and Stan.
Karen and Stan met just after he was discharged from the army. He was already employed at CTC. He landed the job with CTC because he was bright, and a veteran, which gave him preferential consideration. He had completed a year of college before enlisting in the army and was continuing his education at night after having completed his military service. That's where he and Karen met.
Karen’s thoughts turned to their first meeting. They were both enrolled in the same night class at the university. It was an introductory class in computer science.
*****
"What is the function of the arithmetic and logic unit in a computer?" Professor Baker inquired, as he slowly turned away from the chalkboard that he had been facing, and with a pointing arm outstretched toward his audience, he made eye contact around the classroom.
"Miss Dorhman?"
In his usual eccentric manner, he pointed his right forefinger in her direction, sighting across the top of it as though it were a pistol. She felt flush even now, as she recalled the incident.
"Miss Doorrrhhhman?" his voice raised. “The ALU. What is it?”
He faced the chalkboard again and folded his arms. He waited a moment, then tilted his face toward the ceiling and patted his foot. His voice grew louder with each utterance.
"Class, is Miss Dorhman present this evening?"
She didn't know the correct response because she had gone ice skating with Paula on Sunday and hadn't read the assignment. Usually, she studied on Sunday afternoons for the Monday night class.
She felt something nudging her beneath her left arm and glanced down to see a scrap of paper being pushed under her arm from behind.
"The ALU combines the contents of input registers to perform arithmetic and logic operations," she blurted, reading from the little piece of paper that Stan had slipped to her.
Slowly Professor Baker unfolded his arms and turned to face his audience again. He gracefully extended his left arm with palm up in her direction.
"Thank you very much Miss Dorhman. The suspense was quite entertaining. Perhaps next time you could email your answer from Bermuda, or wherever your mind was."
Moisture began to well in her eyes. He’s such an absolute ass, she thought.
She placed her right elbow on the folding desk of the chair, and rested her forehead lightly on the fingertips of her upraised hand. She hoped that her classmates hadn't noticed the moisture that was building in her eyes. She felt sure that her face must be cherry red. A distant bell rang.
"Your assignments are on the board. Class dismissed!" Baker emitted, saluting majestically and exiting the room.
Near silence was broken by books closing, chairs shuffling, and a rushed scrambling of students toward the exit. When silence had settled in again, and she thought that she was alone, Karen wiped her eyes her fingers and slowly rose from her chair. As she did, she glanced behind her. Her eyes met Stan’s for the first time. It was a brief connection. Yet, it was immediately enchanting and appealing to her.
"Thanks," she managed to mutter. Their eyes remained engaged until she felt flush and quickly turned away.
*****
Karen’s thoughts returned from the past to the young couple in the gallery. The looks she had witnessed today between Dan and Sheri reminded her of the exchange that she had shared with Stan that first time they looked into the others eyes.
There is something wrong between us. She irreversibly concluded to herself. She would talk to him tonight.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a bell and the noise of the back door opening and closing. She rose to greet Paula Chantley, her friend and employer. They had abbreviated their names since junior high, when Karen became Kay and Paula became Pau.
"Hi Kay, how's it going today?" Paula asked. "Any lookers?"
"A little slow for such a beautiful spring day," Karen replied. "Marcia Fry dropped off a couple of paintings for you to look at and decide if you want to sell." She pointed in the direction of the two paintings. “An-d, we did have one sale for two twenty five, the winter scene." She pointed to the empty wall space previously occupied by the painting. The wall clock chimed once just as she pointed.
"Well hey!" Paula exaggerated. "That's a couple of week’s rent. Now, if we can just make the payroll." She said directing a teasing nod and smile at her part time employee.
br /> Karen moved to appraise the new hair-do her friend had acquired this morning. Paula, aware of the exam, did a quick turn-around. Her tight chocolate leather mini and jade silk blouse clung to her trim petite figure as she spun. She teased the boyish short red hair with her finger tips as she whirled.
"Love it, Pau. You look great!"
The auburn color contrasted beautifully with her light complexion and complimented her green eyes. She was an enviable inch taller than Karen and a half size smaller in the waist. She had the legs of a model. In fact, that was how she first became interested in art. She had supplemented her college fund by posing for art students.
It was Len Calloway that interested Paula in painting. She developed a crush on the handsome graduate student the first evening she sat for him. The crush led to infatuation and then to a yearlong relationship. She had been involved in lots of relationships since but none as deep or lasting. Karen knew that Paula had really loved Len and was certain that they would have married had it not been for the airplane accident.
"Pau—?" Karen began a question hesitantly, and stopped herself, realizing that it could be unfair and unkind to ask her best friend.
Paula brought herself square in front of Karen. "What is it Kay?" she encouraged. She could sense in the voice and demeanor of Karen that something was really troubling her.
"Oh, it's nothing. Never mind." Karen answered. She avoided eye contact and moved back to the desk and began to pour a cup of coffee. "Would you like one?" She motioned with her cup.
"No thanks. Now you tell me what’s troubling you." Paula locked eyes with Karen and wouldn't let go.