Slow Dancing Page 3

  The rest of the day Margaret and Ellen spent dozing, playing and chatting. At three, Mary came home with a bag of sandwiches for their dinner. A door at the back of the living room lead to her personal apartment, and Margaret was happy to see that Mary’s space wasn’t quite so Spartan after all.

  “I’ll charge you seven dollars a day. No food allowed in the rooms because of bugs, but you can have space in the kitchen. You can use my washer and dryer ‘cause of the little one. Does that sound like a deal?” She was willing to let them stay with her free of charge if it would mean having Margaret close by. Margaret nodded and smiled; it was more than fair.

  “What do I owe you for dinner?” Margaret asked.

  “It’s on the house,” Mary said. “I can bring home food from the café from time to time if there are leftovers that won’t keep for the next day. If you’re going to be here for a few days, I’ll bring something home each afternoon if you want me to, should save you on your food bill.”

  “Okay, thank you.” She didn’t think it would take longer than the next day to fix her car, but it was better to have something lined up, just in case. A knock at the door brought Mary to her feet; she rarely had guests but when it rained, it poured. Surprisingly, it was Frank.

  “Hey there, Frankie,” Mary said. Frank grimaced at the use of the name, but good naturedly, as Mary stepped aside to let him pass by.

  “Can I talk to Margaret?” Mary waved him on.

  “Follow me; we’re back in the kitchen.” His eyes visibly brightened up when he saw Margaret and Ellen. Ellen was standing at a chair running the bowl of a spoon back and forth, like it was a car. He chuckled, the sight of the little girl making him happy for some reason.

  “She likes cars, eh?” he asked.

  “I didn’t bring enough toys for her, obviously,” Margaret said.

  “Your car should be ready tomorrow afternoon. Sorry it’s takin’ me so long to get a part. I have to wait for delivery tomorrow.”

  “I get it,” she said. “It’s no problem at all.”

  “Have a seat, Frankie,” Mary said. “Have dinner with us. Just leftovers from the café.”

  “Okay, it sounds better than what I was gonna have, that’s for sure.” The women waited for him to tell them what it was. “A can of Pork and Beans.”

  “Ew!” They cried in unison, laughing. “You better eat with us.” They chatted until the sun came around to the other side of the house, taking turns holding Ellen, sharing stories. Margaret asked questions, getting the others to talk about themselves.

  “It’s about time for this young lady to go to bed,” Margaret said, reaching for Ellen who was rubbing her eyes. “If you’ll excuse me?” Frank stood up and nodded at her. Mary was excited that she had Frank McPherson in her house, but it looked like he was going to go now that Margaret was going to her room.

  “I better get back to the garage and lock up,” he said. “If there’s anything left to protect.” He was teasing, of course, the whole town in the habit of leaving things open, trusting, helping. It was just the nature of things. “Thanks for the coffee and sandwich, Mary.” She followed him to the door.

  “You don’t need to leave,” she whispered, giving a last effort to engage him. But he wasn’t interested. She thought for a moment that there was a glimmer of something, but it must have been for Margaret’s benefit. He smiled down at her.

  “I better get goin’, Mary, but thanks. And thanks for taking her in for the night.” He was a nice guy, just not interested in her. She locked the door after him. It was early; she’d fix her hair and go out for the evening, hopeful she’d find someone who was interested.

  Chapter 3

  The next day, the part needed to repair Margaret’s car didn’t arrive at Paul’s as expected. It was coming from Dallas, so he couldn’t hop in his car and fetch it as he could if it were coming from Mobile. Frank walked over to Mary’s house and knocked on the door. This time, Margaret answered. She was still in her nightgown, and without meaning to, against his will, looking at her aroused him. The gown was of a soft, gauzy fabric, virginal and feminine. The way the fabric swirled around her curves, his imagination took flight. He looked away.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “The part I need didn’t arrive as we expected it would. Won’t be here now until Monday. Don’t blame you none if you’re angry.” She looked down at her hands. A weekend here in this village with kind Mary and handsome Frank wasn’t such a bad thing.

  “Have coffee with me,” she said. “I’ll be fine right here at Mary’s place.” He looked at his watch.

  “I’m supposed to open up at nine. I’ll make a call.” He went to Mary’s phone, a yellow Princess model with a rotary dial hanging from the wall. He dialed the number of the post office.

  “Jessie,” he said when she answered. “Can you do me a favor and put a note on my door that the garage will open today at nine-thirty?” She agreed to do it, so Frank could have coffee with his new friend.

  “So yesterday I talked all afternoon about myself. Now you tell me about you,” he said, smiling.

  Margaret was a good storyteller. “There’s not much to tell,” she lied. “I work in an office back in Florida. But I needed a break, so we’re headed to Texas to see a friend. It won’t kill me if I alter my plans a little.”

  “We’re you born in Florida?”

  “Yes, Saint Augustine. The only family I have is an aunt and my brother Peter who is in an asylum there.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Frank said. He was curious why, but too courteous to ask. She didn’t mind telling, though.

  “He’s mentally ill. Doesn’t speak or communicate at all. Can’t take care of himself. It’s really rather sad. I’m glad my child is okay. There’s nothing shy about Ellen!”

  “No, there sure isn’t,” Frank agreed. “Was your brother always sickly?” Margaret hesitated, grateful.

  “I never looked at it like he was sick. But yes, he was always mentally ill. From the time he was a little one, he would hide from our momma, or refuse to eat, or steal. He was devious.” Frank didn’t think any of those things sounded that unusual, especially for a boy, but didn’t offer his opinion.

  “Sorry to hear it,” he replied. “Must be difficult on the family.” She nodded her head.

  “We coped,” she said. “My momma tried it all; beatings, makin’ him sit in the corner, any punishment you can think of, and finally one day she just gave up.” Frank didn’t want to upset Margaret, so he changed the topic.

  “Since it looks like you’re going to be around this weekend, do you want to go to a movie?” She brightened up at the suggestion, Peter forgotten.

  “Oh yes, I’d love it!” and then crestfallen, “But what about Ellen?” He paused and then had an idea.

  “We’ll go to a drive-in and then she can come with us.”

  “Okay, that’s even better,” she said. So their first date was set.

  “I better get back to the garage.” He dug through his pocket and came up with a business card. It had a cartoon of a man with a blue uniform on, smiling and saluting. At your service! Handing it to her, he told her to call him if she needed anything. He averted his eyes, not wanting to gaze on her in her nightgown again. She was as unselfconscious as could be.

  The day went by quickly for Frank. He had another complicated repair in addition to Margaret’s Buick, which sat forlorn, waiting. He was secretly happy the part didn’t show up in the morning deliveries. Back at Mary’s house, Margaret used the Princess phone and left a message for Alan; her car had broken down and she’d be delayed until next week.

  She and Ellen were getting cabin fever, so they left in search of a park, finding a nice, grassy area in the center of town, with swings and a duck pond. At lunchtime, they walked to the café, and Mary took her break as soon as the lunch crowd left. She was genuinely happy for Margaret when she told her about the drive-in movie date.

  “Having a child really changes the way you spend your social ti
me, I guess,” Mary said. Margaret nodded her head. It surely did.

  “But I wouldn’t change anything about my life,” Margaret said. “I love being a mother, and she is the sweetest little girl.” Mary wanted to ask about Ellen’s father. She already could tell Margaret was secretive holding her personal information close.

  “What’s Ellen’s daddy like?” she asked.

  “Alan’s okay,” Margaret answered, but was reluctant to elaborate and Mary didn’t press her. She’d learn what she wanted to know in time.

  After lunch, Margaret and Ellen went back to Mary’s house for naptime. After her shift was over at the café, Mary returned home with a bag of food containers. They were having roast turkey for dinner, compliments of the village café. Mary put the food away then tiptoed to Margaret and Ellen’s door just as Margaret let out a blood-curdling scream. Opening the door right away, Mary saw her in the throes of what appeared to be a nightmare, while Ellen was snoring softly in the crib, unfazed. Mary went right to the bed, crawling in next to her and put her hands gently on Margaret’s shoulders to shake her.

  “Margaret, wake up!” Her eyelids flickered slightly, and finally opened as Mary embraced her.

  “I’m awake,” she said, getting up on one elbow, face flushed and eyes shining. “Thank you. I don’t have anyone to wake me up and they have to run their course like dreams do.” Mary nodded her head. She knew the disadvantages to living alone, and suffering through nightmares was definitely one of them. “I’m okay now.”

  “I really like you, Margaret. I don’t want you to leave Seymour,” Mary said. Margaret smiled at her.

  “That’s really nice to hear. I don’t have any girlfriends where I come from. Not a one. I wonder why that is?” Mary chuckled.

  “I bet I know why,” she said. “They’re jealous of you.” Margaret shook her head.

  “Aren’t nothing to be jealous of. I got nothing, except Ellen.” She looked over at the sleeping form in the crib.

  “Where’s her dad?” Mary asked softly. She was feeling the pain of being alone with a small child.

  “Alan’s gone. Never was involved. You know the story I’m sure. I listened to lies and got caught. I was just glad my folks was dead. They’d ‘ve been so angry with me and I don’t want that anger around my little girl.”

  “And you got the girl, that’s a big dividend.” The women nodded their heads, both looking over at the crib. Ellen was worth it. Mary hugged Margaret, and they held each other, lying in bed side by side. Mary smelled Margaret’s hair; it reminded her of the outdoors, cool breezes and grass. Margaret nestled her head in the crook of Mary’s neck, kissing her there.

  “Thank you for caring for us,” she said, sighing. “I feel safe here.”

  “I’m glad for it,” Mary replied. “It’s nice havin’ you and the little one here.” She pulled back from Margaret and smiled.

  “Well, you hungry? We’re having roast turkey with the fixins’ for dinner. If you’d like, I’ll invite Frank.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?” Margaret asked, sensitive to what his interest in her might mean to Mary.

  “Naw, he’s not interested in me. I’m glad he’s found someone, if you’re the one.” She got up and went to the phone in the kitchen, dialing the garage number by heart. Frank was grateful for the invitation.

  “I have to go home and get cleaned up and then I’ll be back,” he said. They’d have dinner together and then go to the drive-in.

  The couple enjoyed the movie, sitting across the bench seats with little Ellen in the middle. Around nine, she fell asleep with her head next to Margaret. When the movie was over, Frank drove to a drive-in restaurant on the other side of town for a snack. They drank milkshakes and talked until midnight. Margaret stifled a yawn.

  “I better think about heading back to Mary’s,” she said. “Ellen doesn’t know the meaning of sleeping in yet.”

  “Okay, I guess you’re right,” Frank said, leaning over to turn the key in the starter. “Thanks for goin’ with me tonight. I guess it’s the first movie I’ve been to in a long while.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied. “I never go myself. No one to go with before Ellen and certainly no one to go with since.” She looked over at Frank, and he was looking at her intently. “How’d you feel about takin’ on another man’s child? If it ain’t too early to talk of it.” She’d slipped into her old, comfortable way of talking about half way through the movie. City Margaret segued to country girl Margaret.

  “I think it would be mighty fine,” he answered. “I like her very much, seems she’s fond of me, too.” They laughed out loud. “And it definitely is not too early to be talkin’ about such things. At my age, I’m not wastin’ time playin’ games.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” she said. “And I don’t know your age.”

  “I’m thirty-one,” he said. “I reckon you’re not older than twenty or twenty-two.” Margaret turned her head. She was over thirty-five, but she wasn’t letting on.

  “You’re close,” she said, smiling. “I don’t like to talk about my age. Is that a problem for you?” He quickly shook his head.

  “You could be any age and I won’t care,” he answered. “So I guess I’ll take you back to Mary’s now. Does this mean you’ll be sticking around? Or do I have to drag out the car repairs for a little longer?”

  “I’ll be staying here, I guess,” she said, smiling. “I like it here.” He smiled back at her and pulled out of the parking space. When they got to Mary’s, he carried Ellen into the house and helped Margaret get her ready for bed and into the crib.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, bending over to kiss her on the cheek. She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, letting her body cover the length of his.

  “Thank you, Frank,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  Chapter 4

  After Ellen and Frank discovered the footprints in the sand, the sheriff didn’t waste any time getting to the McPherson place. He and his deputy looked around and decided to call a forensic team to make impressions of the footprints, just in case.

  “Don’t want to regret that we didn’t do this if the person shows up again.”

  Frank grimaced, frowning at Boyd. “Please, keep yer voice down,” he said under his breath, nodding toward Ellen who was standing at the counter making a fresh pot of coffee. She perked right up.

  “So you’re thinkin’ there’s a chance he’ll come back,” she said, frightened. She’d stopped pouring water into the coffee maker, concerned, looking at Frank and Boyd. Frank had an I warned you look on his face, and he let Boyd answer.

  “Oh no, no, no, that’s not what I meant. He might be peeping on other families in the area, that’s all. Best we have casts of his footprints in case he does it someplace else, then we’ll have something to compare it to.” That explanation seemed to satisfy her and she went back to measuring water.

  Once the casts were made and the sheriff and his deputy and the forensic workers left, Ellen and Frank decided that no good would come to them if they hung around all day, stewing. “Let’s go to town,” Ellen said. “You got work to do and I could use a change of scene.” Bypassing the bike, she would ride home with Frank for today.

  When they arrived at the garage, Mary was waiting for them. “You two goofing off today?” Frank shook his head.

  “We had an intruder on the land last night,” he said as he unlocked the door for Ellen. There was no reason to hide it, he decided. The more people who knew, the better.

  “Oh my! That sounds so foreboding. Did you have the sheriff out?” He nodded his head.

  “Just now. There’s nothin’ they can do, of course. But we wanted it on record, just in case.” He nodded his head over toward Ellen and made a “shush” sound. Mary caught on and nodded in return, following him into the office. Ellen was frowning, watching the two of them, concerned Frank might succumb to Mary’s flirtation now that Margaret was dead. But she’
d needn’t have worried. He’d never look at another woman again after Margaret, and it was certainly too soon to even consider it, her being gone just a few months. Especially not Mary.

  But in spite of Frank discouraging her, Mary had never given up flirting and coming on to him steadily since Margaret was committed. The day Margaret disappeared ten years ago, when five-year-old Ellen revealed that Margaret said Mary had cooties, the sheriff came out right away that day, too. They took a picture of Margaret; the most recent one Frank had and went back to town to file a missing person’s report. With Margaret’s history and all, they didn’t want to waste any time. By now, Frank knew a lot more about her, knew it was Margaret who was mentally ill, who spent time in a mental hospital, and not the fictitious brother, Peter. Margaret, who just happened by in a car with a burned out motor, on her way from Saint Augustine to only she knew where with a toddler, would steal Frank’s heart.

  The positive part was that she functioned at a very responsible rate most of the time. For the three years they were together, Frank learned the warning signs when life was getting to be too much for her, and if he was swift to take action on her behalf, nothing bad ever happened. She learned to trust him, to tell him if she needed an outing or some fun or more of his attention, and usually if he gave her what she said she needed, she’d be fine. On the rare occasion, when all of those things failed to comfort her, thirty days in Hallowsbrook with intense psychotherapy and drugs were somewhat beneficial until she was discharged, good as new for a brief time.

  At first, during those thirty day bouts, Mary would watch little Ellen for Frank in the afternoon when she got off her shift at the cafe. She offered to keep the child overnight, but he wanted her home with him, and she wanted to be home. One day however, Ellen overheard Mary whispering to someone on the phone, using the words, something not right between stepfather and stepdaughter, and little Ellen repeated it to her stepfather as soon as she could. Frank refused all Mary’s offers of help after that, the implication was so seedy, so disgusting. Bringing the child to work with him, Frank and little Ellen became a novelty in town. When it was too hot to bring her into the garage, he fielded trouble calls from home, going in together only if someone needed a repair. He got the office air conditioned during this period, while they waited for Margaret to come home.