A Match Made in Dry Creek (5 page)

“Didn't I tell you?” Charley said. “She's making my favorite this time. Fried liver and onions.”

“Oh,” Curt said as he turned to walk to his bedroom. He might as well wear a white shirt. He sure wasn't going to be spilling any sauce if that's what would be on the table. And a tie wouldn't be much of a problem if he had to wear one of his Sunday shirts anyway.

There was a slight drizzle as Curt drove the three men into Dry Creek in Charley's car.

“We could stop at the café for pie after dinner,” Ben said from the back seat.

“After one of Mrs. Hargrove's dinners?” Charley asked as he turned around to look at his grandson. “She'll have dessert. You can count on it.”

Curt looked in the rearview mirror at his son. “Since when did you become such a fan of pie?”

Ben shrugged. “There's cherry.”

“I see,” Curt said. Something was up with Ben these days, but Curt didn't want to question him. His son was so quiet he didn't want to press him down with questions. Besides, what kind of a question would it be to ask him why he'd all of a sudden grown so interested in pie. Most boys loved pie.

Maybe Ben was just opening his mind to like new things, Curt thought. No one could argue with that.

Before Curt knew it, they were all standing on the porch of the Hargroves house. Charley was getting ready to knock on the door and Curt was running his finger underneath his tie. It felt too tight, but he wasn't complaining. Those old Biblical prophets had been big on wearing sackcloth when they were saying how sorry they were. It seemed like men always needed to be uncomfortable when they repented of their sins and Curt was hoping to gain some points with Doris June by looking as miserable as he felt about their problems.

Charley knocked on the door and Mrs. Hargrove answered it.

Curt noticed Mrs. Hargrove was wearing lipstick. Granted, it was a pale pink and it almost looked natural, but it was definitely there. And she wasn't wearing her suit or one of her housedresses. Instead, she had on a turquoise dress with one of those swirly skirts.

“Is there a problem?” Curt asked. She would be wearing black if someone had died, but he couldn't think of any other reason for Mrs. Hargrove to be wearing lipstick. She had to be going somewhere and he knew there were no weddings around.

“No, of course not,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she opened the screen door for them. “Doris June is just setting the table.”

It took a second for Curt's eyes to adjust to the indoor light. For some reason, Mrs. Hargrove had turned off her overhead light and only had the lamps turned on tonight. It was probably an energy-savings thing, Curt thought. Although, it was just as well the house was a little dim tonight. This was the first time he had been back inside this house in twenty-five years and he didn't want anyone looking at his face too closely.

“Always did like that sofa,” Curt said as he looked around. He used to watch television with Doris June on that sofa. He was glad to see that nothing had been changed. Things had kind of faded softly over the years,
but they were basically the same. The same flowered wallpaper was on the wall beside the stairs that went up to the second floor. The brick fireplace still had the same brass poker that had turned brown with tarnish.

“They don't build sofas like that anymore,” Charley agreed as he walked over and sat down on the thing. Ben followed him.

“Some people think it needs replacing,” Mrs. Hargrove said a little louder than was needed.

Curt heard the rattle of silverware coming from the dining room and turned his head toward that room. He was just in time to see Doris June walk out of the dining room. For a second, as she stood in the doorway between the two rooms, framed in the light, her face showed clearly.

Curt hadn't realized that he hadn't really seen Doris June since she'd been home. There'd been no light in the pickup, and even when he dropped her and her mother off last night, the porch light had only shown shapes. If he had thought about it, he would have assumed her face would have softened over the years with the wrinkles and the slight paleness that comes from getting older. He would have been wrong.

She did not glow like the young girl she used to be, but she had a confidence that made her seem even more alive. She was beautiful.

Last night he thought he knew who she was in her conservative pantsuit and sensible shoes. But the vision
before him made him forget all his assumptions. He'd pictured Doris June as living a solitary life, but no woman wore a soft, floating pink dress like that one unless she was used to dating and going nice places. He'd been ten kinds of a fool to have spent the day thinking of words to try to mend Doris June's broken heart. She'd obviously mended that heart of her years ago and moved on past him. For all he knew, she didn't even remember that they had packed their bags and headed out for an elopement years ago.

D
oris June was glad the Nelson men had worn their Sunday clothes. It made her feel less foolish in the clothes she was wearing. As a rule, people in Dry Creek didn't dress up for any meal except maybe Thanksgiving dinner and here she was dressed up as if she was going to a prom or something and it was only a midweek dinner among neighbors.

Doris June had thought she was making a point by buying the flyaway pink dress with its jagged hem and trailing sleeves. She had hoped to show her mother that there was nothing sensible about such styles. When Doris June suggested her mother expand her wardrobe to include something more than gingham housedresses, Doris June had meant her mother should also wear some sensible polyester skirts and white cotton blouses. She
had not meant that her mother should dress like a teenage party girl.

When Doris June heard her mother ask for this kind of a dress, Doris June didn't believe her mother actually meant it even though her mother had later sent her a picture from a catalogue showing this kind of a dress.

As it turned out, her mother had not only meant for her to buy those kinds of dresses, her mother was also intent on sharing the wealth. Her mother insisted Doris June wear one of the new dresses meant for her instead of the plain gray one Doris June had bought for herself.

The only explanation in Doris June's mind was that her mother was regressing so far back that she was thinking like a thirteen-year-old girl. Unusual behavior like that was definitely up there on the list of symptoms for senior confusion.

Doris June thought she was fortunate she did not have to wear a lamp shade on her head to please her mother. As it was, the pink dress was a little large on Doris June, but it did, at least, look like something a person would wear. Of course, her work shoes had looked foolish next to all the pink froth of the dress, so Doris June had agreed to break in the new slip-ons she had gotten for her mother as well.

If her mother hadn't looked so happy to see her in the pink dress, Doris June would have thought the whole dress thing was just a way for her mother to get someone
to wear her new shoes so they wouldn't hurt her own feet when she wore them later.

Doris June looked across the table at her mother. She did look happy.

“More liver?” Doris June picked up the platter closest to her and turned to offer it to Curt.

Doris June decided that the one good thing about wearing shoes that were too tight and a dress that was too short was that it didn't give her a lot of time to worry about how fickle some men could be. Something was wrong with Curt tonight and she didn't know what it was, unless he objected to the dress she was wearing. If she had a minute, she could assure him she thought the dress was ridiculous on someone her age, too. Although now that he was glaring at her as if she'd done something wrong, she probably wouldn't give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

“Thank you,” Curt said as he slid another piece of meat onto his plate.

Doris June watched him, speechless. He was wearing a tie; he hated ties. He was eating liver and onions; he hated liver and he wasn't overly fond of onions. How could someone have changed so much? The way he'd been looking at her all night, she would have thought he had everything reversed in his mind and thought she should be the one to say she was sorry to him. He seemed to have forgotten who had left whom standing at the sheriff's office.

“Linda had the liver in the freezer over at the café,” Mrs. Hargrove said in the same bright voice she had used all evening. “She's thinking about adding liver and onions to the menu if there's enough demand for it.”

“I'll have to tell her she has my vote,” Charley said. “It's good to change the menu once in a while.”

“Her sister, Lucy, says they're selling more kinds of pie, too,” Ben added.

Since this was the only bit of conversation Ben had offered for the evening that wasn't required as part of the food-passing process, Doris June thought she should say something to encourage him. Young people could be so shy.

“I bet they serve great pies there,” Doris June said with a full-wattage smile for the boy.

Ben looked at her like he appreciated her support and nodded. “Lucy says Linda lets her keep the pie money. Well, on the days when she's working there, at least.”

Doris June was pleased to see that Ben was talking.

Apparently Mrs. Hargrove was pleased, too. “I thought I'd seen Lucy working in there.”

“Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday after school and some weekends,” Ben said with a nod. “She's saving money to buy a new guitar.”

Doris June looked over at Curt to see if he was noticing how his son was opening up.

“Lucy must be about your age,” Mrs. Hargrove said.

Ben nodded. “Almost.”

“Didn't you say once that you played guitar, too?” Mrs. Hargrove asked.

Ben nodded.

“Well,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I vote that we go over and get pie after we finish up here. My treat.”

“Really?” Ben said.

“Really?” Doris June echoed. She knew her mother had brownies thawing on the kitchen counter.

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “I always like to encourage young people, and a guitar is a good thing to have. I like to see a young girl who knows what she wants at Lucy's age.”

Doris June looked down at the last little piece of liver on her plate. She hoped no one else was thinking what she was—that her mother hadn't been so supportive of her own daughter when she knew what she wanted when she was a couple of years older than Lucy. Of course, there was a difference between a guitar and a husband. Still, the thoughts came and Doris June didn't stop them. She'd missed out on so much. If her mother hadn't interfered, she and Curt would be sitting at this table now and Ben, well, he would be their son.

Not that, Doris June assured herself, she was still pining away for Curt and the life they could have had. Her dream of him had died years ago.

“I can stay and do dishes while you go for pie,” Doris June offered. She didn't feel much like walking around
Dry Creek with the man who was her dead dream glaring at her the way he had been all evening.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she set her napkin down on the table. “We could all use the walk over to the café.”

Doris June didn't want to argue with her mother even though one hundred steps would do nothing for anyone's exercise routine, especially not if they sat down at the end of the short walk and had a piece of pie.

 

Mrs. Hargrove didn't understand how Doris June and Curt had ever gotten together as teenagers. Earlier, they had been looking at each other as though they'd never even thought about kissing each other. Mrs. Hargrove and Charley were leading the way over to the café. The day was just sliding into night and so, while there were deep shadows, it was easy enough to find firm footing on the sidewalk leading down to the front gate of Mrs. Hargrove's lawn. From there, they walked on the gravel-sided road toward the café.

“Do you think it's working?” Charley leaned over and asked Mrs. Hargrove softly.

“Ben looks like he's got more romance on his mind than our two kids do,” Mrs. Hargrove said in disgust.

Mrs. Hargrove didn't need to turn around to know that Curt and Doris June were walking behind them with a good yard between them and frowns on both of their faces. It was quiet as a tomb so she knew they weren't talking.

“Maybe they need someone to give them the idea,” Charley said as he reached over and took Mrs. Hargrove's hand in his.

“Why—?” Mrs. Hargrove stopped walking to look over at Charley in astonishment.

Charley winked.

“Oh, yeah.” Mrs. Hargrove swallowed and then smiled weakly. She didn't remove her hand from his, however. Maybe Charley was right, she thought. Maybe their children did need a nudge. She wished she could turn around and see it Curt and Doris June were taking the hint, but she didn't want to be obvious. Children were so sensitive about their parents prying into their romantic lives and Mrs. Hargrove had always been careful not to do that. Well, except for the time she had stopped their elopement, of course.

Mrs. Hargrove sighed at the thought. When she made a mistake, it was always a big one. Not that she could have let them get married. But she could have at least let them write letters to each other. What was the harm in a few letters?

Charley looked over at Mrs. Hargrove and stepped closer so he could put his arm around her.

 

Doris June hissed.

Curt drew back his breath. He was on the verge of saying something to her. Just one word that would start the tumble of his confession. But she hissed. How could
he talk when she wasn't paying attention to him? Instead, she was staring straight ahead.

“Did you see that?” Doris June demanded in a low voice as she moved over close enough to him so they could have a private conversation.

Curt hadn't noticed earlier tonight that tiny wisps of hair were escaping Doris June's tightly controlled hair style. But when she stood next to him, he could see the strands of hair lying against her cheek. The strands showed up when Doris June walked under the one streetlight Dry Creek had. It was distracting enough that he hadn't even tried to figure out what she was talking about.

“Huh?” Curt said. He wondered if she'd be mad if he smoothed those strands back. He'd forgotten how much he used to love the feel of her hair.

“Them,” Doris June jerked her head toward something in front of them. “Our parents. Did you see them holding hands?”

“I wasn't watching them, you see I was thinking—” Curt began.

“How could you not see them?” Doris June squeaked. “Your dad had his arm around my mother's shoulder.”

Curt decided to try again. “Sometimes when old friends start to feel romantic, things are confusing—”

“You think they're romantic? Our parents?”

Curt could see Doris June was completely missing the point he was trying to make.

“No.” Curt figured the only way to get her attention back was to answer her questions. “No, I don't think anyone around here is romantic. But—”

“Of course,” Doris June said in a rush. “I should have seen it before now. My mother isn't senile, she's in love. That explains why she wanted me to buy this for her.” Doris June held out the skirt of her dress as if there was something wrong with it. “This is probably her idea of a date dress. Why my mother needs a dress like this I don't know. I don't even want to know.”

“That dress is your mother's?” Curt smiled in relief. The longer he had looked at that pink frilly dress tonight the more convinced he had been that Doris June must have a regular boyfriend back in Anchorage. A woman wouldn't buy a dress like that unless she had occasion to wear it and wear it often in places that were usually date kind of places.

“You have a problem with the dress?” Doris June asked stiffly.

“Absolutely not, it's a pretty dress,” Curt said mildly. He wasn't about to tell her that he'd been worried she had a boyfriend. “But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Things aren't always what you think. Your mom and my dad have known each other for years. They're good friends—that doesn't mean they're romantically inclined.”

“So your father has been acting normal lately?”

Curt stopped a moment to think. Now that he knew
Doris June didn't own the pink dress, he was enjoying how the breeze blew the sleeves around in the faint light that was coming from that new light Linda had installed on the café porch. He wouldn't mind standing out here and talking for a bit.

“Well, has he been acting normal?” Doris June asked again.

“He might have been a preoccupied, I suppose. If one wanted to be technical about it.”

Doris June nodded. “My mother, too.”

“Maybe they had an argument and were worried about how to fix it between themselves,” Curt said, and it could be possible. “I know when friends disagree it can be painful for both people.”

“They don't look like they've been fighting.”

“Well, but if they had, I'm sure they'd both be sorry and want to say they were sorry. I know I'm sorry about what happened with us.”

Curt had to admit his apology lacked any kind of flourish, but it was sincere.

Doris looked up at him as if he was nuts. “What do we have to do with anything? Look at them.”

Doris June pointed ahead of them and Curt decided he had no option except to look. Their parents were standing in the doorway to the café. Light was streaming out around them and they were standing sideways in the door. Their heads were close together and they were talking.

“They're just old friends. That's all,” Curt said. He couldn't believe his father and Mrs. Hargrove would change the rules of their friendship after all these years. Besides, he had other things he wanted to talk to Doris June about now that they were alone.

“Your father better not just be stringing my mother along,” Doris June whispered up at him fiercely. “That kind of thing runs in your family.”

“It does not,” Curt protested. “If you're talking about you and me, you know I wasn't stringing you along. I asked you to marry me.”

Doris June snorted, but she did look up at him. “For ten seconds. Then you were off marrying someone else. You never said anything about your proposal expiring. It didn't have the shelf life of a piece of cheese.”

“Now, that's not fair. It didn't expire. You wouldn't even talk to me. I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even get an address to write to you.”

Curt knew his apology wasn't going well. He probably should have reminded Doris June of the good times they'd had as kids before he talked about their separation, but he was running out of chances.

“Don't worry about it,” Doris June said. “It happened a long time ago.”