American Boy - Larry Watson [48]
“Oh,” said Mrs. Dunbar, “then this is like a double date?”
At the mention of a date, the twins, who were eating ice cream at the kitchen table, looked up expectantly.
Mrs. Dunbar had tried to sound playful as she asked the question, but her frown revealed how she truly felt about the prospect of her son taking Louisa Lindahl out on a date. Dr. Dunbar looked none too pleased himself. Yet both Dunbars had encouraged Louisa to go out and socialize with people closer to her own age.
“More like we’re the chaperones,” joked Johnny. His parents looked relieved and the twins went back to their ice cream.
Johnny put on his coat, and Dr. Dunbar helped Louisa with hers. “Are you sure about going out in the company of these two troublemakers?” That, too, was supposed to be a joke, but I couldn’t help but think that the doctor would have been happy if Louisa had changed her mind and decided to stay home and make popcorn.
“I’m sure I can keep these two in line.” She laughed her mature, innocent laugh, meant to calm any fears.
Then, as soon as we were in the Valiant, I heard a more conspiratorial laugh, as she slapped Johnny harmlessly on the arm. “What a liar! I’m impressed. Did you have those planned?”
“Totally spur of the moment!” Johnny said, with the same elation he had displayed after racing Chuck Killion on Chippewa Avenue.
Just as Phil Palmer had predicted, the night was cold—eight below according to the thermometer on the side of the Dunbars’ garage—and every word we spoke was wrapped in vapor. On our way out of town we passed Palmer’s Supper Club, and from the number of cars in the parking lot it looked as if Phil’s other prediction had been borne out as well. I couldn’t imagine how the cold would work to the advantage of my “business,” as Phil had termed it. But I could hope.
“That’s where you work, right?” Louisa asked me.
“Right.”
“But not tonight? How come?”
“To be with you.” Why was it that every time I said something to Louisa with the hope of impressing her it came out sounding as if it should have been spoken ironically? And the laugh it elicited sounded like pure mockery.
Johnny and I waited in the car while Louisa went into the Red Hawk Bar.
“Okay,” I said. “Enough with the suspense. Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d drive out to Merchants.” Merchants was a public golf course situated on the hills north of Willow Falls.
“How the hell is that any different from parking in Frenchman’s Forest?”
“Think back. Last October? The key?”
I needed no more than that. One Saturday the previous fall, Dr. Dunbar, Mel Howell, Johnny, and I had played the season’s final round of golf. The weather was wretched—wind, cold, and an occasional gust of sleet. We teed off late, and before we did, Ernie Russell, who owned the place, told us that if we needed to get back inside the clubhouse when we finished our round, we could use the key that was always kept in the hollow of an oak.
“What do you think?” asked Johnny. “The locker room?”
“It’s not even heated.”
“At least it’s inside.”
“Okay. I guess.” Then I lowered my voice, though Louisa had not yet exited the bar. “Do you suppose you could do me a favor? If it looks like she’s getting tight, could you make up a reason for leaving? Just for a while?”
“Where would I—”
“Come on. Give me a turn.”
Johnny drew back, and while I knew him and his moods quite well, I wasn’t sure whether he was bewildered or offended. “A turn? A turn at what?”
“You know, being alone with her.”
“What the hell do you think the two of us have been doing anyway?”
“I have no idea. Since you haven’t told me a goddamn thing.”
“Because there’s nothing to tell! Her bedroom is on the third floor. Mine’s on the second. She sits across from me at dinner. We hardly see each other.”
“And yet I keep hearing about the conversations the two of you have.”
“Conversations? What conversations? What the hell are you talking about?”
I pulled off a glove and held my