Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [65]
After supper, I casually mentioned to Dove that she had a message on the answering machine.
“From who?” she asked, her blue eyes flashing.
I shrugged. “They didn’t leave a name.”
As she listened to the message her cheeks turned pink. “That . . . that . . .” she sputtered. “Of all the nerve.” She glared at all of us, then fled to the guest room, slamming the door behind her. Rita rolled her eyes and took her iced tea out on the front porch.
Gabe looked at me, confused. “What in the world does that Bible verse say?”
I smiled. “Oh, it’s not so much what it says, although that’s going to make her mad, too. It’s where it’s from. They’ve had this battle of verses before, but they’d always stuck to the New Testament, which both of them have practically memorized. By giving a verse from the Old Testament, she’s making Dove actually look it up, which gives Garnet the upper hand. That means Dove will have to find a suitable rejoinder from the Old Testament so Garnet will have to look it up. It’s a whole new spin on their old game.” I groaned and flopped down on the couch. “This could go on for decades.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Your family is certifiably nuts.”
“Tell me a new story, Chief.”
He glanced around the empty living room. “If I’ve learned nothing else these last few days, it’s that I’d better take a shower when the bathroom is free.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Then I have some reports to read.”
I joined Rita out on the porch swing. Dusk had begun to fall, cool and silky, bringing the ocean breezes and the clean smell of Mr. Treton’s freshly mowed lawn. We swung silently for a few moments, the squeak of the swing imitating the late summer crickets.
“You doin’ okay?” I asked. She’d been unusually quiet during supper.
She shrugged, then drew her knees up to her chest and rested her small, pointy chin on them. Across the street, three knobby-kneed boys in baggy shorts tossed a Nerf football back and forth, calling out plays as they wrestled each other to the ground.
“How did your date with Ash go?”
“All right,” she said. “We went and heard a blues band. Then we had dinner at his restaurant, but something came up and he had to leave. So I called here, and Sam came and got me.”
We didn’t speak for a few more minutes. “So what did the lawyer say?” I finally asked.
I heard a small sniffle. “I can get a divorce anytime. Daddy said he’d wire me the money. All I had to do was ask.” Another small sniffle.
For the first time since she arrived, I felt sorry for her. “Rita, is that what you want?”
“I want him to never have screwed around on me,” she said bitterly. “I want—” She started crying softly. “Shoot, Benni, I still love him. What a stupid fool, huh? The guy’s a lyin’ cheat, and I still love him.”
“You’re not a stupid fool,” I said, putting my arm around her. “The problem is we can’t always choose who we fall in love with. I don’t know what to tell you, though. This is something only you can decide.”
“The lawyer said I should think about it for a few weeks.”
“He’s right.” A part of me panicked. “Uh, are you going to be heading on back to Arkansas soon? I bet your mom really misses you.”
She stood up and stretched. “Haven’t really thought about it. I’m here to tell you, though, Mama’s about the last person I feel like seeing now.” She tugged down her tiny denim shorts. “Well, I’m beat. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I sat on the porch for a long time afterward, enjoying the solitude and the falling dusk. The streetlight at the end of the street flickered on, and the boys across the street went inside. I stared up into the black sky, the stars sprinkled across it like a dusting of confectioner’s sugar, and thought of Rita and Skeeter, Roy and Nora and Grace, of Jillian and Dolores and Ash, of Dove and Garnet, me and Gabe, of the betrayals, big and small, we enact on people we loved or claimed to love or once loved. I rubbed my arms briskly and sat up. It was getting late, and my thoughts