Smitten (13 page)

Matt shook his head. “I was the worst boxer ever. I didn't like hitting people, and I
hated
when people hit me. One time I had this match with Killer Gruzinsky from Jersey City…”

Billy slid off his seat. “Can I go, too? I want to hear about Killer Gruzinsky.”

They all looked at Lizabeth. “You guys go ahead,” she said. “I'll stay here and wait for news about Ferguson.”

Well, will you look at that, she thought. There go the men in my life. It was a brand-new experience. She couldn't ever remember seeing Paul go off hand in hand with his sons. It was such a simple thing—an excursion to buy sodas.

She watched them walk away and was struck by a mind-boggling idea. Matt was carving the pie up for her. He was taking over some of the responsibility of parenthood and leaving her with time for herself. He loves me, she thought. He loves my children. He even loves my dog. Maybe their educational differences had evened out. She had a college degree, and he'd
been a boxer. It was all life experience, she told herself. She slumped down in her seat and giggled. He'd been a boxer!

“Lizabeth,” she said, “your life is getting curiouser and curiouser.”

She was waiting in the parking lot when they came back with their sodas. “Ferguson is okay,” Lizabeth said. “He has a broken leg, but the vet thinks he's going to be fine. He's going to stay here tonight. Unless there are complications, we can come pick him up in the morning.”

“Is he gonna have a cast on his leg?” Billy wanted to know.

“Yup. I went back to see him, and he has a big white cast on his hind leg. You guys can be the first to sign it tomorrow.”

The yard was clean and the house was quiet when they got home. Elsie met them at the door.

“He's all right,” Lizabeth said. “Broken leg. He's spending the night at the vet.”

Elsie wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Dang dog is a pain in the behind.”

Lizabeth slipped an arm around Elsie's waist and hugged her. “I think when the cast comes off we'll take Ferguson to obedience school.
Maybe when I can save up some money I'll have part of the yard fenced.”

Elsie led the way into the kitchen. “I imagine you folks could use some supper. I have some cold fried chicken and lots of leftover salad.” She pulled dishes from the refrigerator. “The party broke up right after Ferguson got hit. Folks were real nice.” She turned with a dish of pickles in her hand. “You know, I talked to that young man. The one you told Matt waved like the flasher.”

Lizabeth gave Elsie her full attention. “Yes?”

“I didn't mention nothing about flashing to him. I was just talking to him about things, and turns out he knows Paul.”

Lizabeth felt herself go numb. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing else. We didn't talk too long. He was telling me how he lives in them new town houses on Center Street.”

“You remember his name?”

“Richard. I don't remember the last part.”

Lizabeth took a plate and piled fried chicken on it. She added a glob of potato salad, a glob of three-bean salad, and four brownies. She stuck a fork into it and handed it to Matt. “Here. You can eat your supper in the car.”

“Where are we going?”

“I'm going to talk to this Richard person. You're going with me to make sure I don't kill him.”

Lizabeth went to the garage and unlocked the doors. A hundred years ago the garage had been a carriage house. No one had bothered to modernize it. It still had a dirt floor and hayloft and was more charming than functional. Lizabeth opened one of the big double doors while Matt stood to the side with his plate of food.

“Son of a gun, there's a car in here! I've never seen you drive a car. I didn't think you owned one.”

“I don't drive it any more than I have to. Poor thing's seen better days.”

Matt walked into the cool, dusty interior of the carriage house and tried not to look too horrified at the little foreign import. It was orange, and to say it had seen better days was an understatement. It was missing both bumpers and a back fender. Rust was rampant, the antenna had been snapped off, and it had a yellow diagonal sign in the back window that said,
FAIRY ON BOARD
. Matt added “renovate carriage house” and “buy Lizabeth
new car” to the checklist he'd been carrying in his head.

“Lizabeth, why don't you just drive my truck?”

“It's too big.” She yanked the rusted door open and slid behind the wheel. “Besides, my car needs some exercise.” She patted the seat next to her. “Don't worry. It's safe. It's passed inspection and everything.”

Matt looked at the inspection sticker on the windshield. “Lizzy, this inspection sticker is from Virginia, and it expired three years ago.”

“Well, for goodness sake, I hardly ever drive the car. What could happen to it in three years?” She backed out of the driveway, undaunted by the clatter of knocking valves. She slowed at the corner, and the car gave a death-throes shudder, but continued to run.

Matt smiled and ate his chicken. Lizabeth was a Hawkins through and through. He imagined if the car had the audacity to die, Lizabeth would go out and give it a kick and get it to start one more time.

Lizabeth pulled into a pipe stem at the end of Center Street and parked in the small lot. It was a new subdivision of expensive brick town houses. Yards were professionally maintained,
windows were clothed in custom drapes, doors were heavy oak with leaded windows and classy brass handles.

“How are we going to find him?” Matt asked. “We don't know his house number or his last name. There must be twenty houses here.”

“Most of these houses have names written on the door knockers. If I can't find him that way, I'll ask someone. If no one knows him, I'll go door-to-door until I find him.”

“You're really serious about this.”

Lizabeth's mouth was compressed into a thin line. “Darn right I'm serious. Paul had something to do with this. I can feel it in my bones.”

Matt left his plate in the car and followed after Lizabeth.

She stopped at the fifth house. “Here's a possibility—R. Hastings.” She rapped the brass door knocker and chewed on her lower lip while she waited.

Richard Hastings opened the door and gave a surprised gasp when he saw Lizabeth. His eyes grew wide and frightened when he saw Matt. He tried to slam the door shut, but Matt had his foot rammed against it.

Matt wrapped his hand around Hastings's arm and pulled him outdoors. “Maybe you should step out here before the wind blows the door shut again,” Matt said.

Hastings flinched. “You aren't going to hit me, are you?”

“Hell no,” Matt said. “I'm here to protect you.” He jerked a thumb at Lizabeth. “
She's
here to hit you.”

Richard Hastings looked indignant. “Why would she want to hit me? I was the one who had to stand in her backyard, feeling like a damn fool with no clothes on.”

Lizabeth narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Hastings gave Matt a sympathetic shake of the head. “Just between you and me, I think you've got a hard road ahead of you with all this exhibitionist stuff. I have to tell you, I wasn't all that unhappy when I heard she was married. Man, I was chased by cops and dogs, then there was that crazy old lady in the Cadillac. And the mosquito bites are the worst.”

“Maybe you should fill us in on this ‘exhibitionist' stuff. Where'd you get the idea for the Yuppie Flasher?” Matt asked.

“From Paul, of course. I met him at a law conference in Richmond. He told me all about Lizabeth, and how she was looking for a husband, but she had this kinky thing about exhibitionists. I tried to meet her through normal channels. I called and introduced myself, but she wasn't interested. I purposely ran into her in the supermarket a couple times, but she froze me out. So I decided to give it one last shot and try the Yuppie Flasher.”

“I'm going to kill him,” Lizabeth said. “I'm going to hunt Paul down and break every bone in his body.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Matt said. “That's so violent.”

“No hard feelings,” Richard Hastings said to Matt. “I know she's due to inherit a ton of money, but hell, you're gonna need it to make bail.”

“Wait a minute,” Matt said. “What about Angie Kuchta? Why did you flash her?”

Hastings grimaced. “That's what happens when you try to do a good deed. I was walking through the yards to get to Lizabeth's house, and I looked up, and there was this woman getting undressed in front of her window. She wasn't doing it on purpose. She just hadn't thought to close her curtains. So I threw a stone
up at her to tell her to close her curtains. That's a nice neighborhood, but you never know when some weirdo is skulking around.”

Matt and Lizabeth exchanged glances.

“Anyway, this woman takes one look at me and starts screaming!”

“Come on, cowboy,” Matt said to Lizabeth. “I think it's time to head the wagon train for home.”

Lizabeth got into the orange car. “I suppose this is as close as Paul gets to a sense of humor.”

“Honey, that was not the result of a sense of humor. That was mean. And probably your idiot ex-husband was drunk when he talked to poor gullible Richard Hastings. And probably he just wanted to get you married off so he could get out of his divorce settlement.”

It was a quiet ride home. Lizabeth pulled into the dusky interior of the carriage house, cut the engine, and sat studying the steering wheel, feeling swallowed up by the sudden silence. She was physically and mentally exhausted, but she felt at peace. It was as if she'd tossed a box of puzzle pieces into the air, and when the pieces had fallen to the ground they'd all fit together.

Matt had his knees pressed against the dashboard. “Lizabeth, I don't fit in this car.”

Lizabeth smiled. “I suppose that means you're going to buy me a new one.”

Matt laughed. “I suppose it does. I hope I get more use out of it than the bed.”

“I've been meaning to talk to you about the bed.”

Matt didn't want to hear it. She was going to tell him to take it back, or she was going to tell him she'd pay for it by taking in laundry or something equally ridiculous.

Things weren't going well for him. First Elsie came home early, and now they'd settled the problem of the flasher. Staying at Lizabeth's house to protect her from the flasher had been a pretty flimsy excuse, but now he was left with nothing.

He was going to have to move out. His sweat socks would get gray again. He'd be lonely at night, and lonely in the morning, and feverish with frustration all day at work. Man, life was the pits. He'd trade with Ferguson any day of the week. So Ferguson had a broken leg. Big deal. Ferguson got to live with Lizabeth.

“Okay, what about the bed?”

“It's too big. I don't fit in it all by myself.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And another thing. It doesn't look right for people who are married to sleep apart. I mean, what will the kids think? They'll think Mom and Dad don't like each other.”

“That's true. I've always said that. What are we talking about?”

Lizabeth rolled her eyes. Men were so dense. “We're talking about us.”

“But we're not really married,” Matt said.

“I know, and I think that's something we should correct as soon as possible.”

It took a full minute for the realization to hit home. She wanted to marry him! He felt giddy with relief and happiness.

Matt pinned her against the inside of the car door. “Couldn't stand it any longer, huh?”

He nuzzled her neck and kissed her just below her earlobe. “What was it that finally pushed you over the edge? Was it my washed-out jeans? The ones with the hole in the knee?”

He slid the strap to her sundress off her shoulder and kissed her collarbone. “Maybe it was the way I handled the kitchen fire. So masterfully.” The sundress slid lower.

“Ah, Lizabeth,” he whispered. “How I've missed you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. There would always be time for Matt, she thought. When their days were insanely busy there would still be the night. And there would be an occasional dalliance in the garage.

“Maybe you should lock the garage doors,” Lizabeth said. “I hate being interrupted.”

Matt levered himself out of the import. “What a hussy!”

She was in a suggestive position on the trunk when he returned. “Do you think this is undignified for a mother?”

He pulled her panties down. “I think this is perfect for a mother.”

Lizabeth put Elsie's suitcase in the backseat of the Cadillac and hugged her aunt. “Are you sure you won't stay? Matt said he'd turn the carriage house into an apartment for you.”

“That's nice of him, but I just came for the summer, and the summer is over. Now that the pervert problem is solved there isn't much excitement here. No bingo games. And you don't have any old men. My love life has gone down the toilet. I need to go where there's more action.”

Ferguson impatiently sat on the front porch, his leg still encased in the plaster cast. He flopped onto his side with a clunk of the cast and watched with detached interest as Elsie drove away. At an earlier time he might have chased her car or chomped into her suitcase, but today he was reduced to the role of
spectator. Carol the Cat siddled up to him and sniffed the cast. Carol paraded in front of Ferguson, tail high, and sashayed off into the yard. Not much Ferguson could do about that either.

Lizabeth sat down with a sigh and draped an arm around the dog. Across the street the sun was setting behind the Newsomes' TV antenna. “What a great sunset,” she said to Ferguson. “We're lucky we get to sit here and watch it.”

Ferguson made a desperate sound and pushed against her until she scratched his neck. Next week the cast would come off, and Lizabeth guessed Ferguson would be as obnoxious as ever. She was almost looking forward to it.

She twisted the gold band on her finger and felt a rush of happiness. Her life was perfect. She amended that to
almost
perfect. There was still the motorcycle. It was a terrific motorcycle—if you liked motorcycles. After all, it was a hog.

“I'm never going to be a motorcycle person,” she admitted to Ferguson. “We aren't going to tell that to Matt, because he dearly loves the blasted thing.”

She anxiously looked up the street. Matt and Billy had taken the Harley out two hours ago. They weren't usually gone this long, and she was worried. She always worried when Matt was out on the Harley. He'd told her how safe it was and explained about quality construction, but she worried all the same.

The screen door slammed and Jason ran out and flopped down next to Ferguson. “This is so-o-o-o boring. Nobody can play, and there's nothing on television. How come Billy got to go out on the Harley and I didn't?”

“Because you went out yesterday.”

“It isn't fair.”

Lizabeth's gaze was drawn back to the street. They'd been gone too long. Something was wrong. Usually she heard the Harley rumbling around the neighborhood. You could hear it a mile away. Today everything was quiet.

“Why don't you get a book,” Lizabeth said to Jason. “We'll read a story together.”

He looked past her, down the street, and his eyes got wide. “Wow!” he said. “Look at this! This is awesome!” He scrambled to his feet and took off across the lawn.

Lizabeth followed. There was a car pulling into her driveway. A brand-new, shiny black
Jeep-type thing. It sat high on big oversize tires and had bug-eye spotlights attached to the roof. There was a hitch attached to the Jeep thing, and attached to the hitch was a boat. A big, glistening white boat. Matt and Billy jumped out of the black Jeep.

“What do you think?” Matt asked. He wiped at a smudge on the boat with his shirttail. “It's a beauty, isn't it?”

Lizabeth had a hard time finding her voice. “What happened to the Harley?”

“I traded it in. Billy and I were cruising down the highway, and we passed this boat place, and I said to myself, That's what we need! We need a boat! We can all go out together on a boat. Nobody has to get left at home anymore.”

“Can we afford a boat?”

“I had some money set aside for the house I was always going to build myself. I thought I'd get a new toy instead, and we'll put the rest in a trust fund for college expenses.”

Lizabeth almost passed out from relief. No more motorcycle. No more speeding around. “What about the car? It looks like a new car, too.”

“I needed it to pull the boat.”

“Of course.”

Jason had climbed into the boat and was sitting in the captain's chair behind the wheel. “This is so cool. Can we take it out now? Can we take it down to the river?”

“You bet,” Matt said. “We're going to take your mother for a spin. Wait'll you see what this honey can do, Lizabeth. It's a sportcruiser. Thirty feet of sleek balsa wood and fiberglass.”

“It's got a deep V-hull design,” Billy said. “That's for racing. This hummer can move, Mom!”

“Three hundred horsepower inboard marine motor,” Matt told her. “The next best thing to good sex,” he whispered in her ear.