Painful Memories

Friday, June 26th, 1954

“Mr. Edmonds! Mr. Edmonds! Look what Captain Nemo can do!” Teddy was jumping up and down on the sidewalk. Behind him the puppy yelped with excitement and jumped at the fence in tandem with his young master. 

Dean had just returned from a five day leg of the book tour along the East Coast. It was the only way he could shut Scotty Abernathy up and get some breathing space. After signing countless books at stores throughout the East Coast, he was wrung out, exhausted. He had visited five cities in five days before flying back to Kansas City. But the moment the plane’s wheels had touched down his thoughts had been of Maggie and Teddy.

He had promised Maggie he would come by and see her as soon as he landed. Starting Saturday, she would be working night shifts for the next month. “Teddy will be with my neighbor at night, and I’ll be so tired during the day I won’t have much chance to see you,” she had said.

“Hey Teddy. Give me a moment, son, and I’ll get this old lady parked.”

The boy bounced up and down on the sidewalk, “Can I help, Mr. Edmonds?”

“Well sure you can, get in and sit here, you can help me drive.”

Teddy climbed in, settling his tiny body on Dean’s lap. Dean’s heart stuttered for a moment. Betty had been the same size the last time he had held her. He tried to hang onto the good memories, like how she had always smelled of strawberries.

“Mr. Edmonds?”

“Oh, sorry Teddy. I was a million miles away.” He pointed to the side mirror. “Now you see this mirror here? We need to look in it and see how close we can get to the curb.”

A few minutes later, he followed the boy in through the gate, Captain Nemo jumping up to lick his hand. The pup had visibly grown in just the few days he was gone.

“Look Mr. Edmonds, watch this.” Teddy turned to the puppy, and said in a clear voice, “Nemo. Sit!” The pup ceased his bouncing and sat obediently, his big brown eyes fixed on Teddy.

“That’s quite impressive, Teddy. Truly. I think you have a knack for it.”

“Teddy has been working very hard with Nemo,” Maggie said, a proud smile on her lips as she stepped out on the porch, wiping her damp hands on her apron. A spot of flour adorned the top ruffle of the apron, and there was another on her chin. Her blond hair was pulled back in an efficient bun and her cheeks were tan.

Dean smiled as he leaned forward and gently kissed her, “You have been getting some sun.”

“Yes, the garden needed weeding. I had a few hours to myself yesterday and knocked it into shape. The salad and the baby potatoes are all home-grown.”

She fanned herself, “It is a little warm in that kitchen. Summer is definitely here.”

“You need a window unit,” Dean said, immediately thinking of the one he had purchased for his room on Tenth Street. It cooled the room well, but was quite loud. Ms. Abney had ended up trudging all the way up the stairs and knocking on his door.

“That Mr. Abernathy called,” she had said, her lips set in a thin, disapproving line. “He talked my ear off for five straight minutes. In the middle of his blathering there appeared to be one simple message.”

“Oh?”

“Your book has now broken into the top ten, edging out Bhowani Junction by John Masters.” She nodded curtly, “It is to be expected. I found John Masters book rather lackluster compared to yours. Has there been any movement on the screenplay adaptation?”

There hadn’t been, but that was due to his reluctance to hand over the reins to anyone else. He wanted to do it himself and life had been so busy with the book tour. If only he could be left alone to write. Well, that and see Maggie and Teddy. The two of them had occupied his thoughts every waking moment, making writing, much less a screenplay adaptation, an impossibility. And every time he thought of them, memories of June and the kids entered the fray as well. It was hard, part of him wanted to commit fully to Maggie and Teddy, yet at the same time, it had been one short year. What would people say? What would they think?

Scotty had asked those very questions when he called Dean at the hotel in Atlantic City. Dean wished he had not mentioned seeing Maggie.

Maggie’s voice jostled him from his musings, “Dean?”

He blinked, “I’m sorry. I’ve had so much on my mind with the tour and all that.” He smiled at her, reached out and smoothed the flour from her chin, “You’ve been baking as well.” The yeasty smell of fresh-baked bread permeated the house.

“Yes, I’ve made biscuits and gravy. It’s tradition.”

“For dinner?” Dean asked, amused.

“Yes, Mr. Edmonds!” Teddy bounced next to them, his curls dancing. “We have it every second Friday. Mama says that’s when the sausage goes on sale.”

Maggie turned pink with embarrassment, wiping her brow.

“Still, it is quite a bit of work to do in the heat of the summer. Whether the sausage is on sale or not.”

“Summer or not, we still have to eat. An air conditioner would be nice, but I imagine the extra electric would cost a pretty penny.”

“I could help...” Dean began, but Maggie shook her head sharply.

“No Dean, please.”

The rejection stung. He tried to see it her way, even began to ask why she wouldn’t let him help, when Teddy ran past, “Mommy, can I watch the television at Max Burkin’s please? It’s time for Captain Video!”

Dean was hit with a blast of deja vu. Captain Video had been Danny’s favorite show. Just fifteen minutes of it, and so ridiculous.

“Mrs. Burkin has a TV Guide and it said that this episode they follied a plot to blow up the world but the mastermind gets away!”

“Did Mrs. Burkin read that to you, Teddy?” Maggie asked.

“No, I read it myself, Mommy. What does follied mean?”

“I think you mean foiled, sweetheart. It means that they stopped the bad guy.”

“He’s not just a bad guy, Mommy, he’s a mastermind.” Teddy corrected her.

“Right. A mastermind.” Maggie’s words were lost on her son. “Sure, go ahead, but then come right back home, you hear?”

Teddy yipped in excitement and ran out of the house, feet flying.

Danny had been like that.

“I can’t believe it. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Burkin if she has noticed him reading or not.” Maggie was obviously excited over the news. “Imagine it, Dean! He’s reading so young!”

Dean nodded, his thoughts on his own children. “Betty learned young, at four like Teddy. June thought it was because of her asthma. It kept her from running and playing with the other children as much. The cold, dry winters always triggered attacks, so she spent most of them inside.”

Maggie’s excitement dulled at the reminder of his dead children. “Oh, well, yes.”

Dean turned to her, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her up, it’s just...” He nodded as Teddy disappeared into the house across the street. “Danny was obsessed with Captain Video.”

“I guess all boys are crazy for that silly show.”

“I guess so.” He couldn’t help but relive the memories that continued to loop in his brain.

Teddy had pouted when the show ended and he had to come home.

The biscuits and gravy, normally something Dean would have expected for breakfast, was a welcome change from the endless string of greasy spoon cafes he had found himself dining at while on tour. Maggie was a good cook.

The domesticity he felt when he was here brought back rushes of memory. Danny and Betty at the table, sitting across from June. Maggie’s house was tiny and quaint in comparison, but the food and shared meals reminded him of everything he had lost. Perhaps it was too soon. Perhaps he was rushing things.

“Dean? Are you all right?” Maggie finally asked, her pretty young face troubled. “You have been rather quiet.”

Dean had been silent as he ate, lost in his memories, still decompressing from days of travel. Teddy had dashed from the table when excused, running out into the yard to play fetch with Captain Nemo, the call of the television traded in for an active back and forth with the pup.

They had moved to the porch, sitting down in the two metal chairs with scalloped backs. Dean’s chair rocked back and forth.

“Sorry, Maggie. My thoughts are just...” His voiced petered off, lost in a sea of emotions.

He looked at her face. It was troubled. She stared back at him directly. “Dean, it has only been a year for you, you know.”

“I am well aware of how long it has been.” Dean snapped. He felt the sting in his words as they left his mouth, wished he could take them back.

“I just meant that...”

Dean stood up, “I’m sorry, Maggie. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s late. I should go.”

A moment later, as he drove away into the gathering darkness, his thoughts were not on his family, but that of Maggie, who had looked so lost and hurt as she stood at her gate, her lithesome figure disappearing from view as he turned the corner.

What was he doing? What was this?

In his rented room that night, Dean tossed and turned. There had been another message from Scotty, proposing an extensive tour through Europe, and a demand Dean call him as soon as he received the message.

Ms. Abney had written the note in her perfect flowing script, including quotation marks around Scotty’s colorful speech.

Dean-call me, day, night, whatever. I sweet-talked the heavy-hitters in Europe and they are scrambling over each other to nail down a date with you. We gotta hop on this quick-like. I’ve wired tickets for the plane ride from Kansas City. Call me Dino.

Dean couldn't help but smile. Ms. Abney had no time for such extremes. Her view of the English language and speech patterns was like that of a drill sergeant.

His smile faded as he surveyed his rented room. He looked around, took in the single bed. The only other furniture in the room was the small dining table that doubled as a workspace and a tall dresser. A short, stout stove had been excellent at heating the room in the winter and serving as a cook-top for simple meals.

Here it was, a life beholden to none but his own whims. It was empty of responsibility and required no compromises.

Dean thought of Maggie and Teddy. It was a package deal, after all.

Teddy was a sweet boy. His mother was strong, independent, and hard-working. Alone, they would manage to eke by. Perhaps she would meet a nice doctor at the hospital, she certainly had the looks for it.

Dean had to wonder, was some of what he felt for this woman and this little boy some kind of white knight syndrome? Did he expect to ride in and save them both from a life of stretching the budget so they could afford a bit of meat once or twice a week?

Had he fallen from one frying pan only to jump into another? Was he looking at Maggie and Teddy as some kind of replacement family?

Dean sighed, slipped his shoes off, stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. He could hear Alice trying to shush her wailing child. Susan, just over a year old, had been toddling about rather well until two weeks ago. Her mother had taken her swimming at a local lake.

Last week the news headlines had screamed “Will 1954 Be the Year of Victory over Polio?”

And then word had come of at least two dozen children sickening, all from the same lake.

Ms. Abney had updated him upon his return. Baby Susan’s left leg was showing signs of weakness and it would not hold her weight. It remained to be seen how badly the child would be affected. Dean had heard Alice sobbing in the wee hours of the morning. The door that connected their rooms was bolted on both sides, but it carried sound better than the thick lathe and plaster walls.

If I feel compelled to be a white knight, better to help those two out. At least Maggie has the means to support herself. He knew Ms. Abney had been accepting partial payments from Alice for several months now. And even he had slipped a crisp five dollar bill under her door a week ago when he was sure she was gone.

He certainly could spare it, and she had enough to deal with at the moment.

Baby Susan’s wails slowed and then finally stopped. Dean could hear Alice singing, her voice soft and soothing. Poor girl, she was scarcely more than a child herself. He had overheard Florence and Frances, the identical twin sisters in the double room apartment next to Miss Middaugh talking about her a few weeks ago.

Alice’s husband had been struck by a car just one month after Susan was born. The tiny apartment had been all they could afford, and that was with Robert’s job at the warehouse off of Hardesty. For now, Alice had a small stipend from Robert’s employer, but that would run out soon.

Soon the song changed to soft sobs again. They invaded his dreams as he drifted off to sleep.

Dean woke early the next morning. The rest of the house silent. He sat down at the table and wrote a short note to Maggie.

Dear Maggie-

My agent has been asking me to extend the book tour to Europe. I will be gone for a few weeks. My regrets for not telling you sooner.

He then penned a note for Ms. Abney, and left his rent, along with an extra five earmarked for Alice and a short note asking Ms. Abney not to say he was behind it, before walking down to the corner market to call a cab. Once he was at the airport he would phone Scotty and tell him he was on his way.

A week later, in a bookstore with gilded wood and roughly patched plaster walls near Buckingham Palace, he read passages from his book, and then signed copies until his hand ached.

Maggie’s face haunted his waking moments. He missed her, but he had to wonder, was he rushing into something out of guilt? Was he diving into a relationship in order to escape being alone?

“Mr. Edmonds?” The bookstore owner, a woman with frizzy red hair and thick glasses, stood in front of him. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head, “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

The woman gave a brief smile, her teeth crooked and gapped, “I was just saying that I had never seen such a crowd. Really, everyone is talking about your book. Have you started on your second one yet?”

Dean leaned back, massaged his stiff fingers, and shook his head. “Just some notes. I’ve been so busy traveling and lugging around a typewriter can be exhausting. I hope to start on it in the fall.”

He looked around. The store was still full of patrons, despite the warm, sunny weather. He thought of Maggie and Teddy. The temperatures were soaring into the high 90s this week. He imagined the two of them in their tiny oven of a house and made up his mind then and there.

“Will you be heading south into Europe now, Mr. Edmonds?” The woman asked.

“No, actually. I need to return home.” Dean said, gathering his hat and briefcase, “Could you please call a cab for me? I need to get to Heathrow as soon as possible”

He reached down, scribbled a short note and a phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to her along with a crisp bank note.

“And if I could ask you to just please send a telegram to my agent, Scotty Abernathy, and give him the following information, I would be forever grateful."

“Of course, Mr. Edmonds.”

By evening he was on a plane that would take him back across the Atlantic Ocean. From New York, he connected to a flight to Kansas City. He arrived shortly before ten in the morning the following day. A note from Ms. Abney lay on the floor in front of his door, along with a small pile of mail.

He read Ms. Abney’s note first...

Mr. Edmonds-

Your agent, Mr. Abernathy called. He sounded rather perturbed. He asked, no, demanded, that you call at your earliest convenience.

Yours,

Ms. Abney

He ignored it, started up his car and drove to Maggie’s. The house was quiet when he arrived, Teddy and Nemo were obviously elsewhere and Dean cursed himself for forgetting that Maggie’s shift had changed to nights.

She answered the door cautiously, a thin robe covering her. He could see her skin was beaded with sweat.

“Dean? What are you doing here?”

“I came back early from the tour, Maggie. All I could think about was you and Teddy and I couldn’t stay away.”

She said nothing, her mouth was in a tight line, her eyes apprehensive.

“I want to take you somewhere tomorrow. If you will let me. I want to show you this place, and get your opinion on it.”

“I’m not sure that is such a good idea, Dean.”

“Maggie,” he took a deep breath, “I am so sorry if I hurt your feelings the last time I saw you. I’ve had some time to think, and now isn’t the time or place for it, but I’m asking you, will you please come with me tomorrow? Say around noon? Or would one p.m. be better?”

She looked at him, obviously considering it.

“Please Maggie.”

“Fine, yes. Be here at one p.m.”

“Thank you, Maggie. I’ll see you then.”