She shook her head. “No. I made sure of that. No one knows except my parents, and they would never tell.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
1983
Most nights, Ricky stood in her backyard behind a thick tree trunk and peered into the closest window, rewarded by the view of her moving around the house, oblivious to his presence. He watched her sing to herself as she washed the dishes and discovered she had a penchant for curling up on the oversize chair closest to the bay window to read. He imagined those same hands, the ones squeezing the soapy sponge, washing his back in the shower like she had when they were newlyweds. Once she was back home with him, he’d allow her to read novels in the evening, but the picture wouldn’t be complete unless he was in the same room, watching sports on television. He could see it now, very clearly. So very soon, their life would be restored, back to the way it had been, back to the way it was supposed to be.
The one glitch in the whole plan was the obnoxious deliveryman—well, boy, really—who brought truckloads of old furniture and crap to the back loading dock on a regular basis. Kathleen and the other woman who worked in the store had an easy camaraderie with this guy, something that didn’t alarm him too much at first. Kathleen had a weakness for the underdog. Always holding the door for old folks and cripples, making small talk with the help at hotels. She even used to give money to panhandlers until he put an end to that on principle alone. Ricky felt that if she was going to be kind to anyone, it should be her own husband. Every moment spent talking to other people was time that she should have been paying attention to him.
When she went to lunch with the delivery guy, the easy back-and-forth between them as they walked down the sidewalk infuriated him. Kathleen had never laughed like that at anything Ricky had ever said, and he was her own husband.
He’d overheard the troll-doll employee address the delivery guy as Joe, a workingman’s name if ever there was one. Another point against this Joe? The outlandish way he dressed, with suspenders and a newsboy’s cap, as if he were a child whose mother had dressed him for a visit to the JCPenney portrait studio. The guy looked like a complete butthead. No competition there.
Ricky didn’t give him another thought until the night Kathleen and this Joe went to the movies. He waited until they were safely inside and stepped up to the ticket counter. “One, please.” Once inside the theater, he took a seat where he could watch them closely.
Joe wandered down the aisle like he was brain-dead, and then both he and Kathleen suddenly left, throwing a monkey wrench in his plan. He had to sneak out carefully behind them. Ricky witnessed them talking intently on a bench outside and followed them to Marjorie’s Supper Club, a place that looked a little too fancy for just friends. Ricky stood outside for a moment, infuriated. Was she dating this maggot?
He stormed off, intending to go back to Miss Whitt’s and think through his plan, the one in which he would play the hero, but when he arrived in the neighborhood, he changed his mind. Going to Kathleen’s backyard, he took an edging stone from a planting bed and broke one of the panes of glass in her back door. He held his breath, waiting to see if anyone nearby had heard the noise, but when he was greeted with silence, he reached inside and let himself in.
A feeling of power washed over him as he walked through her house. She couldn’t keep him out of her life. Not now. Not ever.
Ricky noted the dishes in the sink with disgust. Had she learned nothing from their time together? If these kinds of chores were done right away, a person would always return to a clean kitchen. This was something he’d learned from his mother. Kathleen had balked at this initially but eventually saw the wisdom of his ways. She’d obviously backslid since their marriage ended. “This is just disgusting,” he said aloud. He briefly considered washing them himself before deciding against it. He’d already moved across the country for her and gotten a new job. He was supposed to provide maid service too? Not happening.
He went from room to room, checking drawers and closets. Most of them weren’t too bad. He used the toilet while he was in the bathroom, almost laughing at the way he’d made himself at home.
When he’d thoroughly investigated the entire house, he did a final walk-through, flipping on every light switch as he went. Kathleen would find out that her house had been broken into, but she’d never suspect him, not in a million years. He was adamant about turning off lights in unoccupied rooms. Keeping them on was wasteful.
Yes, she’d know someone had been in her house, and that would make her fearful. Just what he wanted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
1916
Dear John,
I was very happy to get your letter, and happier still to read of your certainty in your feelings for me. As for me, I have felt myself drawn to you from the start. Is it possible to feel like you already know someone from the moment you’ve first met? If so, that is what I have found in you.
I find myself thinking about you during the day as I go about my work. You are the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. I count the hours until I can see you again. I thought I was happy before, and I was, but having you in my life has made me happier still in a way I never could have imagined. If this is love, then yes, I feel it too.
Yesterday, in the kitchen, you asked about the title and words of the song I was singing, but we were interrupted before I could explain. The song does not have a title. It is just a little ditty I made up to sing to Daisy. I often write little poems and put them to music. The words to this one go like this:
Little, little darling child
Sweetest flower, small and wild
Fill me with your love and light
All my days’ and nights’ delight
Nothing will keep us apart
You’re always there in my heart
You are still my baby girl
Dearest one in all the world
It is silly, I know, but it pleases her and gives me something new to sing.
Father said that Frank came to the mill and caused quite a ruckus, saying he should fire you, but that they had a talk, and all is resolved now. Pearl is upset that Frank can’t come to the house to visit until after you have gone away, but that is not my concern.
I am already thinking about summer’s end, when you will go away. I do not think I can bear it. The days will seem so empty without you here. I hope you will be willing to write to me when you are away at school. I know you’ll be very busy, but hearing about your days would help to fill the loneliness of my own.
Yours,
Alice
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
1916
Dearest Alice,
There was a time when I had wished this summer would go quickly, but now I would be content to have it last until the end of my days. Before I go to sleep at night, I take out my stack of letters from you and read them over and over again by the light of the kerosene lamp. So many letters, full of your ideas and thoughts, your hopes for the future, and your concerns about the war on the other side of the world, which I assure you will never reach the United States, so you need not worry any longer. The war cannot touch anyone here.
Please believe me when I say you are never dull, my dearest, and each word is etched into my memory. Your letters are what sustains me.
You asked a few weeks ago if we could continue writing after I am back at school. That was only a few weeks ago, but so much has changed in that time. It was then I had confessed my feelings to you, and you told me you felt the same way. I did not think it could get better than that, but now, to hear you call me sweetheart, your voice whispering the word in my ear when no one else is nearby, I know true happiness.