THE SUN HAD SHIFTED SO THAT late morning light cut across the den. Joan inhaled Gabe’s scent. She could chart his day from the bath soap and toothpaste mixed with oranges, to the coffee and gasoline. His quiet snores rumbled. Barely moving, she stretched her fingers toward her bra on the floor, praying that she wouldn’t wake him. The first time that they had slept together it had been gracefully dark in her motel room. No man, besides Mort, had seen her naked in a very long time. Even her gynecologist allowed her the Victorian dignity of a blue paper jacket. She was in relatively good shape, not great, but good for her age. It was, however, all relative. At forty-eight, some of the blush had definitely come off the peach. As a matter of fact, she reflected, the fruit had fallen from the tree, bounced a few times, and started to compost.
Gabe stirred and she froze. When his breathing settled again she fastened her bra and was just slipping into her panties when he opened his eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” He smiled at her.
She was so glad that she’d spent the extra cash on good underwear.
The day had turned chilly so Laura Rimmer threw a cardigan over her shoulders before answering the door. A pretty, dark-haired girl stood on the steps. Something about her seemed instantly familiar, but Laura couldn’t put her finger on it. The girl appeared nervous, or maybe she was just cold.
“Hello. My name is Daphne Pyle. I went to school with your son.”
Laura let her in then busied herself in the kitchen making tea and setting out sandwiches for an early lunch. Their freezer and fridge were jammed with the generous offerings of the funeral brigade. She’d done her own years in service, providing freezer cakes to households in mourning. Cherry walnut squares were her specialty. Tom had locked himself in his basement office after breakfast to review patient files. The stream of people coming to pay respects had slowed, and this morning had been quiet until now. There was some confusion about when they’d be able to hold Roger’s funeral since the police hadn’t yet identified the person who had taken his life. When she returned to the living room the young woman had one of the family photo albums on her lap. It was opened to the pages of Roger as a baby. He had been such a beautiful child.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, dear, but you don’t look old enough to have graduated with Roger.”
“Roger had it rough, Laura. You know that.” Her husband stood in the doorway. He kindly took the tray and held it out to Daphne. “Our son had aged beyond his years.”
Laura smoothed her skirt as she sat and smiled. “I’m not daft, Tom. I know that the drugs were hard on him.”
They’d always skated around the topic of Roger’s addiction. Tom looked at her aghast now that the elephant in the room was doing back flips on the carpet. She turned her attention back to Daphne.
“No, you definitely look younger than the other girls. What’s your secret?”
Tom interrupted to say that he knew Harold Pyle, who lived at the lodge and asked if she was related.
The younger woman muttered, “My dad,” then made abrupt excuses to leave, abandoning a half-eaten egg salad sandwich on her plate. The etiquette of mourning is acquired, Laura thought, but nobody had taught this girl.
Gabe placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Joan, who was perched on a stool at the kitchen island. Although the front of the house was stereotypical suburbia, the view from the back more than made up for it. The expansive lawn sloped down to a ridge of trees and wild grasses on the edge of a fast-moving creek. Strains of Bach played from an IPod dock. Gabe had given her his robe. His clean-soapy smell, she knew, would transfer to her body and she welcomed the thought of wearing his scent. The adolescent idea that she wouldn’t bathe for days caused her to smile. Gabe had slightly eased her discomfort of being in Betty’s house when he showed her that the sofa was a hide-a-bed and the closet in his den contained his clothes. He’d been sleeping there since before Christmas. As she sipped her coffee she wondered how many marriages devolved in that direction, couples maintaining the illusion of togetherness long past the expiry date. Then there were those, like Mort and her, who appeared to have made a clean break but continued the conjugal visits.
She pondered the copy of the grad photo in front of her, picking out all the characters from their lives: Steve with his huge hair; Candy as hard as steel in a slinky dress; Peg with her straight black hair falling over her faux ermine collar. Only Daphne didn’t appear to be dressed for the prom. She wore what looked like a man’s shirt and Joan couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Roger’s. She guessed that the Pyles hadn’t allowed her to attend the prom, concerned that Satan was the event coordinator.
Laura Rimmer tidied the living room after the Pyle girl left. When she went to put away the photo album, she smiled down at her three-year-old son, his sweet face surrounded by golden curls of angel hair. Those were the days when he brought them nothing but joy. Had they been too indulgent? Is that what brought him down? They send you home from hospital with those precious bundles and no instructions. Even a coffee maker comes with instructions nowadays. She had always blamed herself for what had happened to her son. Flipping back to earlier photos, she was met by a blank square in the middle of the baby pictures. The picture must have fallen out in the past few days, with everyone admiring her baby. She got on her knees and began to search for it under the furniture.
Joan and Gabe finished their coffee as they shared information on the case. Gabe let her know that there was no clear indication, yet, of exactly how the deadly medication had been administered to Peg or when it had been ingested. He intended to talk to Daphne and Candy again, since they had both been at Peg’s house and may have noticed something unusual. He mentioned that Daphne and Ray had been at the Elgar motel on Sunday morning when Peg had had her attack.
“Popular spot,” said Joan.
“You been there?”
“No. I mean because that’s where Hazel and Lila stayed last Friday night.”
“What?”
It turned out that this was new information to Gabe, which confirmed the value of them sharing the fine details. When Hazel had sketched out her Friday evening to him, he, like Joan, had concluded that Hazel and Lila had stopped for the night because they were too tired to drive any farther. With the deluxe suite at the Twin Pines waiting for them only fifteen minutes away, the rundown motel was an unexpected choice. They decided to put this in the “coincidence” column, but not at the top of their list for follow up.
At that moment Gabe’s phone rang. He glanced at the call display and started walking down the hallway as he answered. Joan instantly knew that it was Betty calling. The warmth in his voice made her uneasy. She was taken aback when she heard him laugh.
As she drove back to Madden, she angrily demanded the tears to go away, but couldn’t control them as they slid down the side of her nose. She had sunk so low that she wished ill feelings between Gabe and his wife. This transgression had gone farther than she ever could have imagined, after a lifetime spent mastering control over her emotions. How stupid, to let her feelings for him go this far.
When she arrived at her cabin, the phone was ringing. She heard her mom’s voice and knew that she’d probably been calling every ten minutes trying to reach her. “Joan, you’ll never guessed who called me,” gushed Vi.
“Mr. Fowler?”
“How did you know? You didn’t put him up to it?” Her mother sounded disappointed.
“He didn’t need any encouragement. He has the hots for you,” she teased.
“Oh, shame on you. We don’t get that way at our age.” Joan could tell that she was smiling.
“Oh, I know. It’s more ‘warm and fuzzy’ isn’t it?” There was still that piece of Vi’s puzzle that was missing. “Mom, how did you find out about Marlena’s dad and Suzy Fowler?”
The line went silent for several seconds then her mother sighed. “I don’t like to think of unhappy times.”
Joan kept prodding. It turned out that Vi remembered the exact moment and could describe it as though it was yesterday. It happened on the same day that she’d received her first pay cheque from Twin Pines, the first pay cheque she’d ever received in her life.
“It was the middle of the afternoon and I was pushing my cleaning cart across the parking lot.” Joan couldn’t imagine how her little mom had moved that cart a foot across the gravel, let alone drag it back and forth day after day. “That Prychenko girl was leaning against her dad’s truck in the parking lot.”
“Marlena?” asked Joan.
“That’s right. That’s what got my attention. It was like she was waiting for him. I thought it seemed odd, her there in the middle of the school day but,” she sighed, “none of my beeswax. I was unlocking a room, a long-term rental, when the door to the next room opened. There was all this yelling. I was worried that someone was hurt. Well, there was that girl pounding her father and grabbing at Suzy Fowler. When they recognized me they were all embarrassed. They were used to cleaning people being faceless, nameless robots. I learned that soon enough on that job. They didn’t expect to see their neighbour in a motel uniform. They were the most gawd-awful pale orange colour.” “I remember.” Joan conjured the memory of the cheap cotton dresses with attached white aprons, grey from a thousand washings.
“Well, that poor girl turned pale and ran toward the river. Suzy Fowler went and sat in Dan’s car with her head down. Dan started after his daughter but must have known he’d never catch her. He never looked at me once, but Suzy saw me as they were driving off. She told Ed as soon as he got home after school, probably afraid he’d hear it from someone else first. You know what I wish?” asked Vi.
“That you hadn’t come out of the room?” ventured Joan.
“That’s what I used to wish, for years. But now,” she lowered her voice, as though sharing a conspiracy. “I wish I’d gone and married Ed Fowler when he’d asked, even if he was years younger than me.” She hooted. “Wouldn’t have that have sent a shiver of scandal through that old town?”
“That it would have,” agreed Joan.
Then her mother went quiet and became serious again. “But there were his kids to think of, and Suzy. Ed should never have blamed her. I told him that. He wasn’t good at hiding how he felt about me. It never went beyond him looking goo-goo eyes at me and I never encouraged him, but I knew it was hard on poor Suzy.” Another silence. “She wasn’t in love with Dan. He was a just a convenient weapon to use against Ed. Any woman who wanted to have sex could have had it with Dan Prychenko. There’s always one of those around.”
The comment opened Joan’s eyes. Roger had fallen into that category in their youth. They had all thought their generation had invented illicit sex, possibly sex period. She listened as her mom continued.
“At first I thought Marlena had caught her dad by accident, seeing his truck, thinking he was at some meeting. But what kind of business do you have at a motel, besides monkey business? No, I think she knew her dad was in that room. Who was with him almost didn’t matter. There were women before Suzy and there’d be more to come.”
Joan promised her mom that she’d come home as soon as she could then she hung up. Gazing out the window, she realized that she was staring at the same parking lot where Marlena had sat waiting for her dad thirty years before. No wonder Marlena had attacked her at the gas bar. Joan had believed it was because she wasn’t cool enough, was inferior. In reality, Marlena was probably trying to retaliate against Vi, who had witnessed her shame. It would have burned Marlena to know that Joan never mentioned the attacks to Vi. Up until this trip to Madden, Joan hadn’t shared any bad news with her mother, fearing that she was too delicate.
Appearances meant everything to Marlena, then and now. She’d still do anything to protect herself. Joan thought of Daphne. If Daph was fooling around with Ray, it could explode like a grenade. She decided again to warn Daphne to watch her back.
When the band arrived at the cultural centre to set up for the much-anticipated Rank performance, Ed Fowler was enjoying a game of hearts with Daphne. He had a bad feeling that Ray was being overly friendly to her, that she wasn’t comfortable at the Stanfield house. She hadn’t said so, but she was spending a lot of time at the Couch. Daphne was a pretty girl. Today she had rushed in with her hair still wet. Instead of the stiff up-do that she’d worn since she arrived, her hair hung in soft ringlets. What would Marlena do if she picked up the scent of Ray tom-catting? He’d told Daphne that she could stay at the centre as long as she wanted. He’d even bring in a sleeping bag from home if she wanted to sleep on the sofa. She had declined but he’d brought it anyway in case she changed her mind. He swore to himself that he’d do whatever he could to protect her. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Ray entered the room carrying a small amp. When he spotted Daphne he made a beeline for her and grabbed her by the belt loop of her jeans.
Ed was shocked. “Ray Stanfield, unhand that girl!”
Ray just smiled. But Daphne turned and said something to him that Ed couldn’t hear. Ray blanched and stepped away. Ed couldn’t contain a grin. It was good to see that Daphne had learned to take care of herself. For the next hour Ray concentrated on setting up the sound system, darting the occasional glance toward the pretty woman.
Poor little Daphne Pyle. She’d almost sunk before she learned how to swim. Ed realized that he was probably one of the only people left who knew what had happened to her. The sexual revolution of the sixties had hit Madden early and hung around long after AIDS was making headlines in the eighties. In the late seventies Ed was doubling as the school counsellor at Madden High. One afternoon Daphne came into his office and burst into tears. It was only two months from the end of the year, but she already had a significant bump. Her situation was complicated by the threat of her father. Ed Fowler knew that Harold Pyle beat both his wife and daughter. According to the old man, the Bible demanded that he keep them in line. In their fundamentalist church pre-marital sex bought you a one-way ticket to eternal damnation. Daphne was scared to death of her father and knew that her mother couldn’t risk a hand in her defence. Ed, for once, agreed that it was better not to tell her folks. He’d always been able to reason with parents in the past when it came to pregnancies and other life-altering events, but this time the risk was too great. He offered to help her find someone who could do an abortion, but she said it was too late and was adamant about keeping the child. She never said who the father was but Ed thought he knew. He could’ve been fired for helping her leave town. Now she was back again, he was curious about the outcome of her pregnancy. Part of him wondered if she’d like to talk about it, but he didn’t want to raise unhappy memories. Poor girl. She’d suffered enough. Now she’d pulled herself up and made something of herself. Good for her, he thought. Good for her.
Marlena opened her door wearing yoga gear that outlined her muscular body in detail. She was warm and chatty, which caught Joan off guard. Daphne wasn’t there and Marlena had no clue where she’d gone.
“It’s been fun having another woman in the house. The girls adore her. When she told them that she’d kept a diary as a kid, the girls actually read her their latest entries. Can you imagine that? God, they won’t even tell me what they want for breakfast.”
It appeared that Marlena hadn’t figured out what was going on between Ray and Daphne. Maybe it had been a one-time fling and Daphne had come to her senses. Regardless, with Marlena’s history with her philandering father, who knew what she’d do if she discovered that her husband was fooling around.
After the Stanfield’s, Joan stopped at Jacques. The waiter remembered Daphne, but she hadn’t been there either. Joan wound her way to the Madden Cultural Centre, peering down side streets for a glimpse of Daphne’s champagne-coloured rental car.
When she parked at the Couch, Steve and Rudy were carrying music gear in from Steve’s roofing truck. It gave Joan a twinge to see all the tools of her father’s trade tidily stacked against the back. The unmistakable odor of tar permeated everything.
She was relieved to find Daphne with Mr. Fowler and waited until they finished a hand of hearts before suggesting to Daphne that they get a breath of air. Mr. Fowler had his jacket on in an instant. It would have been awkward to leave him behind. Thankfully, Steve interrupted with a question about the power supply. The two men headed to the basement to check out the electrical panel, and Joan quickly led Daphne out of the building.
The playground behind the school blended new with old; a climbing wall with bright plastic holds next to remnants of the playground that had been there when they were kids: the old metal swing set, a spiral slide, and monkey bars. The women sat side by side on the swings. Joan wasn’t sure how to warn Daphne about Marlena without admitting that Gabe had told her about the Elgar Motel. She started by mentioning the class picture, saying that she’d seen it at Hazel’s.
“You and Roger were holding hands. You were dating?” Daphne gave her a startled look, then turned her head away. “I’m not sure. Kind of.”
Joan waited while Daphne pulled a vivid image from her fractured memory.
“The whole time he was effin’ around on me. And I was stupid enough to keep seeing him. All he could think about, besides sex and girls, was splitting from here so he could be some big rock star.”
Joan considered. Roger had been a drug addict and alcoholic but had he also struggled with sex addiction? It was a problem without a name thirty years earlier.
“He held your hand in front of other people. That may not seem like much, but for him that was a huge deal, a public declaration.”
“Really?” Daphne looked bemused.
“According to other girls, he’d resolved to appear single. He was afraid that his career would bomb if he were attached.” Then Joan warned her. “He was crazy about you, Daph, and that may have been enough to make someone else angry. People carry grudges.” She stopped her swing and looked at Daphne. The other woman was staring down at her feet as she dug her heels into the sand. She was listening intently and looked so sad, so much more fragile than Joan had yet seen her. “Promise me that you’ll be really careful.”
“You’re talking about Marlena, aren’t you?” Joan nodded. Daphne’s tone became cold. “I can handle her. Don’t you worry.” She brightened. “I’m really glad you came to the reunion, Joan.
You were kind. It’s been a dream of mine to say ‘thank you’ one day.”
“You mean because I agreed to split the lemon gin?” laughed Joan.
But Daphne was serious. “You loaned me books and gave me a sweater.”
“You remember that?” asked Joan.
“I still have the sweater, a mauve pullover.”
Both women shoved off on their swings at the same time, heads back, looking up at the clouds, the squeaking sound of the chains transporting them back in time.