She sighed. “I guess I just can't figure out why it's so important to you to get to know me.”
“I can't figure out why you don't want me to.”
“Well, shoot, I've been let down.”
“Oh,” he said. “And I suppose you're the only one?”
“Okay, okay. We'll be friends, you win. Nice, platonic friends. And you want to get to know me. So, what do you want to know first?”
“First—is it coffee yet?”
“I'll check. Second?”
“Second—do you like anything besides scotch? I'm not wild about scotch.”
Chapter Five
Bev did like something other than scotch. It seemed Joe was not so turned off with brandy. Of course, it wasn't the taste of his mouth that concerned him because he only occasionally accepted the offered drink. It was the taste of her mouth. Well, what the hell, kissing was allowed in nice platonic relationships. Just a little though. Joe didn't like to kiss too much. He truly liked painting backdrops for the Sunday school program and taking the boys to the gym.
And Beverly truly enjoyed Joe. It was funny, because nothing would have pleased her more than to have not liked him, to be bored with him, or turned off by him. She found his control amazing. If she didn't suspect that he was turning blue praying for her in private, it would seem he didn't give a damn about her soul.
But he liked the way she looked in jeans. He said so more than once. “Some women just can't wear jeans the way they're meant to be worn. You can.” That, she assumed, was how a minister told a woman she had a nice ass.
So they painted backdrops and went to the games Joe refereed. It happened that Carl Panstiel had a nine-year-old boy playing basketball and he and Bev crossed paths. Carl tried not to reveal that he was overjoyed to see Bev at the game, assuming she came because Joe had invited her. Bev guessed from the orgasmic expression on his face that Carl had played cupid from the start.
“You're a dog, Carl.”
“Beverly, what a thing to say.”
“You planned it. 'Help me with the Christmas program.' You dog.”
“Bev, that's just not so. I'm simply glad to see you're going out with a nice guy like Joe.”
Oh, brother. Well, at least he didn't ask if she had filled her prescriptions, which she hadn't. And he didn't offer to give her the name of a colleague who would be obliged to help her out since Carl knew the situation and the beau. Bev and the preacher were simply pals. Playing it straight. Nice and platonic. Ministers didn't get turned on.
But she said, “Thanks, Carl.”
And he said, “You're welcome.”
“See! You're a dog!”
“I'm a dog.” And he was, he thought as he grinned, a mighty pleased dog.
There was comfort in routine. Bev saw Joe fairly often, but he wasn't pressing her. He helped with the painting once and then turned the youth group loose on her. He invited her to the games and the boys loved it. She made him dinner a few times and he took her out to dinner again, and this time she drank conservatively.
Terry stayed with Bev on the weekends. She would baby-sit if Bev was going out, and if Terry had a date with Steve, Bev's curfew was more lenient than was their parents'.
Terry and Bev had not always been close. At least not like Bev and John had always been. When Bev moved back to Ohio, she found Terry grown-up. She was the baby of the family. Now she was a woman.
In her second year at the university, Terry had to live at home because of expenses. She needed the babysitting money, and she also needed some time away from her parents. She was testing independence and finding it suitable. Terry was pretty, dependable, sensible. And Beverly actually admired her.
And Terry was on the pill.
Well, it was better than sleeping with Steve and using no birth control. Still, Bev was shocked and she couldn't quite hide her disappointment. It was a very old-fashioned idea, this notion Beverly had that a twenty-year-old woman should abstain until marriage. But with Terry it seemed so different. Terry had only just turned twenty and couldn't possibly be so sure about what she was doing.
“Did,” Terry corrected.
“Well, it's not too late,” Beverly the wise said.
“It is too, and you know it.”
Yes, it definitely was, and she knew it. “But are you so sure this is the right guy? So sure you're going to be married?”
“Only as sure as I can be at my grossly immature age.
“Don't be flippant.”
“Then don't act like Mother. Jeez.”
“There's something to consider. What would Mother say?”
“I can only guess. Shall we try her?”
“Terry, you're being snotty.”
“And you're being a hypocrite. You agree with me, you understand me, and you're too damned stubborn to admit it. You're being a big sister and not a friend. Why don't you level with me for once? You and Bob did the same thing.”
“What?”
“Well...?”
“That's none of your business. Besides, you know all about my secret troubles. And I'm older than you. Wiser.”
“Well, did you or didn't you?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?'
“No.”
“Then I'll spare you. God, how you get under my skin with your almighty maturity. Who taught you so much about love and life in your whole twenty years?”
Terry shrugged. “Maybe I'm just self-motivated.”
“Well, it's your life, so I won't try to change your mind. But don't come to me for a love nest away from home. Don't you dare use me.”
“You know better than that.”
She did know better than that, but it had to be said. Love is blind. It can also make a negligent baby-sitter.
“And you knew Steve and I were making love before I told you too. You know I love him and it is not casual. I know it would show to someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“You're not in the dark, Bev. You're not fooled or foolish. I wanted to talk to you because I trust you. Didn't you really want to know?”
“I guess not.”
“But why?”
Because now even Terry, little Terry, had someone. “Because it's not easy to face, honey. You've been the picture of purity in my mind. And love is not always blissful. Sometimes it hurts. Hurts so bad you think you will die. I don't think I wanted to believe you had reached that point.”
“Sex with someone you love doesn't hurt, Bev. And it isn't dirty.”
“No, honey, it's not. There is nothing nasty about what you and Steve have. And I hope it grows and gets more beautiful with the years. I just don't want you to ever get hurt. But that is my problem, not yours. I love you for wanting to be that honest with me.”
“Beverly,” she murmured, sniffing. “I'm so glad you came home.”
“Me too, honey. Me too. Um... Terry?”
“Huh?”
“Do you think I'm... turning into our mother?”
Terry laughed and wiped her tears. “I think there's a good chance that you might.”
“Sorry. I'm glad I'm home too.”
Now, at least, she was. She had moved at the end of August because that was the best time of year for her. Bev had a passion for the fall, and some of that was because of the passion Bob had for her in the fall.
When they were young, both in college, they would go for long rides to see the hillsides come alive with color. She loved the scenery and she loved it better when they stopped the car and pulled out a blanket and did what Terry and Steve were doing without all the sophisticated protection. Well, what the hell, she'd loved him, hadn't she? And she married him, after all.
Bev, remarkably, enjoyed the fall even without Bob. She took the boys on a long ride to see the beauty. Forced them was more the word. It was not all she hoped for. It was a five-and six-year-old duet that moaned and groaned throughout the entire affair until she stopped the car and threatened to cram the picnic lunch down their thro
ats if she heard one more gripe.
It wasn't easy to build an entire life around two little boys, even if they were your entire life. There had to be something more. So when she had settled herself in the Waspy section of the Columbus suburb, she had set up her painting in the extra bedroom.
She knew she would never be a famous artist, and maybe she didn't want to be anymore. There was a time, when she was much younger, when an art teacher had said she showed such promise that Bev painted away her every moment with a vision, destiny calling her. Her vision turned into a degree in art education. She had taught ninth-grade art for three years after marrying Bob and hated every minute of it. Now she painted for pleasure, having learned that destiny can be a terrible liar.
She had begun to think that she could be content; the kids in school, her ridiculous part-time job, the beauty of the fall to inspire her painting, and a comfortable home. And then came winter. Cold and messy. She didn't get many calls for modeling and even the family gatherings she had dreaded were infrequent. She was downright depressed. Life was a pain in the neck. Bob had a nerve sneaking out and leaving her alone to raise her sons to be decent men. What kind of a guy would do that—promise to grow old with you and then split? A real louse, that's what kind.
When the last link was about to slip, Bev had reluctantly agreed to a relationship with Joe. It led to long discussions about popular issues and controversial subjects. She found out that adult companionship was something more. And to her amazement, she and Joe agreed on a great many things. They were just getting around to talking about sex and Bev was dying of curiosity. Getting a little excited, feverish, as a matter of fact.
“Why? Do you think ministers don't know about sex? You think ministers don't have some good questions about it? Certainly we're called into domestic situations that involve sex. God likes sex. He fixed it.”
“Well, you're not counseling me; we're on a date. Hey, this is a date, no matter what you say. It seems like you're avoiding the subject with me.”
Joe laughed. “You know something, Beverly? There's nothing wrong with me. I'm progressive. You're the one who's hung up.”
“Well, what about sex before marriage?”
“What about it?”
“Do you think it's wrong?”
“I think it's a sin. Wrong.”
“It's very popular.”
“Why wouldn't it be? It feels good.”
“How do you know?”
“I do a lot of reading.”
“Don't you think maybe it's a good idea? I mean, it's a very important part of a marriage. I've been married, so I know more about this than you do. I think it should be checked out.”
“That is a good reason, but it is still just an excuse not to make a commitment and not to practice restraint. Putting aside all the God stuff, as you call it, if you can choose someone with whom you are compatible in life, a person who is willing to work out all problems from money to sex, and who turns you on, you'll be fine. If both people love each other honestly, have faith and communicate, there is no reason to worry about how they'll get along in bed. They'll help each other in all things; they'll help each other sexually. I think that in sex as in the rest of life it is only give and take, compromise, tolerance, understanding, et cetera.”
So who could argue that? “Is that what you tell the young people? To wait in good faith?”
“Yep. You think I should tell them to screw around and have a ball?”
“What about love?”
“Nice. What about it?”
“Doesn't that make it right?”
“Right? It makes it decent, I don't know about right.”
“Well, jeez, everything must be a sin.”
“Look, there are nice kids in my office who have screwed that one up, you should pardon the expression. They're good people and they're only human. God is understanding and willing to consider all sorts of extenuating circumstances. My job is getting people through stuff like this. I try to do my very best. I believe what I believe.”
“Did you ever ask God if it was all right to make love to a woman even though you weren't married?”
“Yes.”
“And what did He say?”
“He said no.”
“And if you did it anyway, what do you think He'd say?”
“Something like, 'Shape up, Joseph.'“
“And what would you say?”
“I'd say,”—long silence—”please forgive me.”
“You really mean that, don't you? You really mean that!”
“Oh, shit, you missed the whole point. First, I'd tell God how I feel about her, and I'd get advice from Scripture and the Horse's Mouth. And then if I still messed up, we'd work it out. There is nothing that can't be worked out. Beverly, you build altogether too many restrictions into this whole thing. You'd make a crummy God.”
She giggled. “Joseph, did you say shit?”
“Accidentally. I accidentally said it, so I apologize.”
“Well, now, see, that's what happens to young people. They start kissing, touching, falling in love, and they accidentally make love and—”
Joe was looking at her with a very superior smile, so she immediately stopped explaining it to him. “Nice try, Bev. I was a teenage boy once, and I can vouch for the fact that no sexual act of a teenage boy was ever an accident. It was carefully planned for years. The only thing he isn't sure about is the supporting cast. Don't you remember the rings all the guys used to have pressing through the leather of their wallets? Not that they had a clue how to put them on...”
“You're so sure about all of this,” she said, amazed. “I wish I were that sure.”
“You know my number.”
“You'd love that, wouldn't you? You're all set to jump right in there and save my soul.”
“Yep.”
“Well, forget it.”
Nope. “What are you doing for Christmas? Going to your folks?”
“Just for Christmas Eve. Are you going home?” Home for Joe was Los Angeles.
“No, I have lots to do. It's our busy season, you know. I was just wondering, do you give the kids money and let them shop?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to take them to the mall? I know you could do it, but it might be kind of fun for you to be surprised with what they pick out for the grandparents and all that. I'd enjoy it.”
“I think that would be very nice. Thanks.”
Chapter Six
It wasn't easy to find John with time on his hands, but Terry was so insistent over the phone that he pushed aside his schedule and promised to meet her for lunch if she would come to the hospital cafeteria. He was late, which was usual for John, and Terry was already done eating when she saw him push his way through the line.
“This is nice. Do you bring all your dates here?”
“What dates?”
“Come on, John, I'm not that simple.”
“I only date women with apartments who like to cook and do laundry. And other things. Now, what's the urgent family matter? Christmas present for Mom and Dad?”
“As usual, dear brother, we put in a crummy ten dollars for you, which you will never repay, and signed your name to the jackpot gift. The problem is Beverly.”
“What's the matter with Beverly?”
“She's having a bad time, John. She doesn't have anyone for the boys. Mark said that when she gets a new boyfriend they glom onto the boys and once Bev's caught, they're ignored again. I figured it's kind of your place, you know?”
“Jeez. Yeah, my place. I barely have time enough to shower. I don't know how I can.”
“Well, you better think about it. If you have a couple of hours, you better run out to Bev's and just hang around with the kids or something. You're just going to have to, John. They need a man who is closer to their father's age, someone permanent.”
“She's not doing well? No fellas?”
“She's sort of dating Joe Clark. She says it's no big dea
l, that they're just friends. He's been horsing around with the boys a little, but what if they stop dating? Mark and Chuck keep losing their main man over and over. Uncles don't usually desert like that, get what I mean?”
“You're really serious. Tell me more.”
“I don't know if I have the right. See, all I really know is what Beverly spilled one night when she was drunk. It was not our usual Beverly, but this completely broken-down, lonely, aching little widow.”
“Drunk? Our patron saint Beverly?” Beverly had a reputation for being the responsible and controlled member of the family. Mouthy, but controlled in her actions.
“On her first date with the preacher.”
“Tacky. Very tacky.”
“Agreed.”
“Well, what did she say?”
“She had an affair after Bob died. The guy was a real jerk; he even had her believing she had some kind of orgasm impairment—she actually went to a doctor about it. Since then she's been out with a guy who's gay, two married men, one single sex maniac who nearly raped her when she wouldn't put out, and now she's dating a preacher.”
“Hmm. Beverly may be getting a little kinky.”
“And they use her something awful, John. One jerk wanted a woman to play house with, others need some sex, or—shoot, maybe Beverly's right. Maybe Joe Clark is going to get his jollies trying to save her soul. Come on, John. She's having lousy luck. Help me help her.”
Of course John would help. He loved Beverly. He just hadn't known it was that bad. He wasn't exactly good with kids, but he loved the boys too. After lunch he fished ten dollars out of his pocket and promised to get over to Bev's within the week.
Terry pinched his cheek. “Guilt looks good on you, kiddo. Thanks.”
John started helping by dropping by and taking the boys to a kiddie matinee and Beverly was surprised. He dropped by again and took them sledding and she was amazed. Then he told her straight out that he was going to do his best to see that they had the companionship of a regular man forever, or until they had a stepfather to do that. She threw her arms around him, kissed him, and cried. Then she told him she loved him like a brother.