Big Foot Stole My Wife Page 9

  “Crystal,” he gasps.

  “Remmie, dear,” his mother says chidingly, “that’s no way to welcome a guest into our home. Have you forgotten your manners?”

  Crystal’s smile is as sweet as the sugar granules on the tray. “I was in the neighborhood, and it seemed like time to stop by and meet your mother. We’ve been having a lovely chat.”

  “Oh, yes,” says Audrey. “A lovely chat.”

  Remmie sinks down on the edge of the recliner, aware his mouth is slack. “That’s good,” he says at last.

  Audrey nods. “Crystal and I discovered a most amazing coincidence. It seems her mother used to clean house for Laetitia Whimsey, who was in my garden club for years.”

  “Amazing,” Remmie says, glaring at Crystal. He’s angry at her effrontery in coming, but she refuses to acknowledge him and listens attentively as Audrey reminisces about her garden club.

  Out on the porch, however, Crystal crosses her arms and gazes defiantly at him. “This meeting was long overdue,” she says, “and you’ve been stalling. Well, now I’ve met her. She seems to like me well enough, and I’m sure we’ll get along just fine in the future. We do have a future, don’t we?”

  “Of course we do,” he says, shocked by her vehemence. “I was only waiting until Mother …”

  “Dies?”

  Remmie steps back and clutches the rail. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s experiencing numbness in her lower legs and feet, and the doctor recommended tests for arteriosclerosis. Mother is always distraught about going into the hospital.”

  “And then what, Remmie? Will she have problems with her kidneys? Will her blood pressure fluctuate?”

  “I don’t know, Crystal. Her condition is very delicate, but the doctor seems to feel that in general her prognosis is good.”

  “Then what’s the delay?” she counters. “I believed you when you told me that you love me. Otherwise, I would have broken off our relationship long before I became emotionally involved. There are plenty of women who’ll sleep with you, Remmie—if that’s all you want.”

  He stares as she marches down the steps and across the street to her little white car. He remains on the porch even after she has driven away without so much as a glance in his direction.

  “Remmie?” calls his mother. “Could you be a dear and help me upstairs? I wasn’t expecting any visitors, and now I’m exhausted. There’s no rush, of course. I’ll just sit here in the dark until you have a moment.”

  January proves to be the cruelest month.

  Crystal allows Remmie to take her out several times, and permits him a few more liberties on the sofa, for which he is grateful. On the other hand, he senses a reticence on her part to abandon herself to his embraces. They both avoid any references to Audrey, who continues to encourage him to go out with Crystal.

  Remmie begins to feel as if he’s losing his mind. He’s obsessed with Crystal; his waking hours are haunted by memories of how she feels in his arms. His dreams are so explicit that he awakens drenched with sweat and shivering with frustration.

  The obvious question arises: Why does he not propose marriage? If he could answer this, he would. For the most part, Crystal is the girl of his dreams (if he and I may employ the cliché). She has shown a flicker of annoyance now and then, but she is quick to apologize and kiss away his injured feelings. She has joined his church. On two occasions she has brought Audrey flowers and perky greeting cards.

  When Audrey mentions Crystal’s name, Remmie listens intently for any nuances in her voice. He’s perceptive enough to anticipate a petty display of jealousy, but thus far he has not seen it. Audrey maintains that she is fond of Crystal, that she enjoys their infrequent but pleasant conversations.

  Why is he incapable of proposing?

  Mercifully, January ends and we ease into February, a month fraught with significance for young and old lovers alike.

  “Does Crystal have a brother?” asks Audrey one morning as Remmie is straightening her blanket.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How odd,” she says under her breath.

  “Why would you think she has a brother, Mother?”

  “It’s so silly that I hate to confess.” Audrey sighs and looks away, then adds, “I called her house yesterday morning to thank her for the romance novel she sent. A man answered the telephone, and I was so unnerved that I hung up without saying a word. It was quite early; you’d just left for work.”

  Remmie is aware that two days ago Crystal canceled their plans for dinner, saying that she needed to work on files from the clinic. He has not spoken to her since then, although he has left messages for her to call.

  “It must have been a plumber,” Audrey says dismissively. “Would you check the thermostat, dear? I can hardly wiggle my toes.”

  As Valentine’s Day approaches, Remmie becomes more and more distracted. Crystal denies having a brother; he’s too embarrassed to say anything further. He feels as if he’s driving down a steep mountain road, tires skidding, brakes smoking and squealing, gravel spewing behind him.

  He is staring at the calendar when Ailene comes into his office.

  “Here’s the candy,” she says, putting down a plain white box that has come in the morning mail. “You should get a medal or something for going to all this trouble every year. It must cost twice as much as regular candy.”

  “It’s one of our little traditions. I’ve told Mother she can have sugar free chocolate all year, but she says it’s sweeter because it’s a Valentine’s Day gift.”

  “You doing something special with Crystal?” asks Ailene, who has been monitoring the relationship with a healthy curiosity.

  Remmie comes to a decision. “Yes, I am,” he says without taking his eyes off the white box.

  Late in the morning, he calls Audrey and tells her that he is unable to come home to prepare her lunch, citing the need to run errands. She wishes him a profitable hour and assures him she will have a nice bowl of soup.

  Remmie goes to the bank and gains access to the safe deposit box. The jewelry is in a brown felt pouch. He spreads it open and finds the diamond engagement ring given to his mother fifty-odd years ago. If he wished, he could buy a bigger and more impressive one, but he hopes Crystal will accept this as a loving tribute to his mother.

  At the drugstore, he buys two heart-shaped boxes of candy. One is red, the other white, and both have glittery bows. He finds a sentimental card for his mother, who will reread it many times before adding it to the collection in her dresser drawer.

  When he returns to the office, he opens the white box and dumps the sumptuous chocolates on Ailene’s desk. He then refills the box with the sugar-free chocolates made especially for diabetics, writes a loving message to his mother, and tucks the card under the pink ribbon.

  Gnawing his lip, he dials the telephone number of a cozy country inn that is a hundred miles away. He makes reservations for dinner for the evening of February 14.

  Despite a sudden dryness in his mouth, he also reserves a room with a fireplace and a double bed.

  Crystal agrees to dinner. Remmie does not mention the room reservation. He will wait until they are sipping wine and savoring whatever decadently rich dessert the inn has prepared for the event, then slip the ring on her finger and ask her to marry him. He feels a warm tingle as he envisions what will follow.

  “How romantic,” murmurs Audrey as he describes the plans he has made, although he alludes only obliquely to what he hopes will transpire after his proposal. He’s aware that she disapproves of sexual activity outside of wedlock, but he is over forty, after all.

  He realizes he is blushing and wills himself to stop behaving like a bashful adolescent. “I’ll call Miss McCloud and ask her to stay with you. That way, if you feel dizzy or need extra insulin, she’ll be there to help you.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she responds curtly.

  “But I’ll worry about you if you’re here alone all night.”

  “I can take care
of myself—and don’t call her against my wishes. If she shows up at the front door, I’ll send her away. Now please stop dithering and bring me another blanket. My feet feel as though they’re frozen.”

  He goes to the linen closet in the hallway. As he takes a blanket from the shelf, he hears a peculiar thump. He dashes to his mother’s bedroom and finds her lying on the floor like a discarded rag doll.

  “Did she break any bones?” asks Crystal.

  Remmie puts down his coffee cup and shrugs. “No, she just has some bad bruises. They kept her overnight at the hospital for observation, but Dr. Whitbread insisted she’d be more comfortable in her own bed. I took her home after I got off work.”

  “And left her alone?”

  “Of course not,” he says, appalled that she would even ask. “Miss McCloud stopped by with a plant, and I took the opportunity to come see you for a few minutes.” He looks at his watch and stands up. “I’d better go.”

  Crystal stands up but does not move toward him. “Does this mean our Valentine dinner date is off? If you’re afraid to leave your mother for more than thirty minutes, I’d like to know it right now. There’s a new doctor at the clinic who’s asked me out a couple of times. He’s single, and he doesn’t make plans around his mother.”

  “We’re still going,” he says hastily.

  She goes to the door and opens it. “You’d better go home, Remmie. I hear your mother calling.”

  Oddly enough, Remmie almost hears her, too.

  Audrey is unable to sleep because of her pain. At least once a night she calls out for Remmie, who hurries into her room with a glass of water and a white pill. Each time she apologizes at length for disturbing him.

  “You know who Crystal reminds me of?” asks Audrey as Remmie pauses. He is reading the newspaper to her because her eyesight has worsened. It has become a new addition to their evening ritual.

  “Who?”

  “That woman from the bowling alley. They both have a certain hardness about their eyes. Not that Crystal is anything like … what was her name?”

  “Lucinda,” supplies Remmie. He zeroes in on a story concerning a charity fund-raiser and begins to read.

  Too loudly, I’m afraid.

  Valentine’s Day.

  Remmie hands his mother a notebook. Names and telephone number are written in a heavy black hand; surely she can make them out should an emergency arise. “It’s not too late to call Miss McCloud, Mother. She said she will be delighted to stay with you. If you prefer, she can stay downstairs and you won’t even know she’s here.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “If you’re sure,” he says. He has already made his decision, but it is not too late for Audrey to change the course of her destiny. He looks down at her. Her lower lip is extended and her jaw is rigid.

  He realizes that when next he sees her, she will be at peace. Blinking back tears, he bends down to brush his lips across her forehead. “Good-bye, Mother,” he whispers.

  “Good-bye, Mrs. Boles,” Crystal says from the doorway. She is holding something behind her back and scuffling her feet as if she were a small child. She gives Remmie a conspiratorial smile. “Aren’t you forgetting to give your mother something?”

  Remmie’s face is bloodless as he takes the white heart-shaped box and presents it to Audrey. “I didn’t forget,” he says. “Special candy for a special person. Don’t eat so much you get a tummy ache.”

  “Don’t condescend to me,” Audrey says coldly, but her expression softens as she reaches up to squeeze his hand. “I love these chocolates almost as much as I love you, Remmie. One of these days you won’t have to go to all the bother to order them just for me.”

  Remmie stumbles as he leaves the room, brushing past Crystal as though she were nothing more substantial than a shadow.

  Unamused, she follows him downstairs to the kitchen, where a second box of chocolates sits on the table. “Did you order them just for me?” she says, mimicking Audrey’s simpery voice.

  The trip has not started on a happy note, obviously. Remmie curses as he fights traffic until they are clear of the city, and only then does he loosen his grip on the steering wheel and glance at Crystal.

  “You look nervous,” he comments.

  “So do you.” She opens the box of chocolates and offers it to him.

  He recoils, then regains control of himself. “Maybe later,” he mumbles unhappily.

  “Are you worried about your mother?”

  “Of course I am. What if she has a dizzy spell and takes another fall? She could break her hip this time and be in such pain that she’s unable to call for help.”

  “She’ll be all right,” Crystal says as she selects a chocolate and pops it in her mouth. A surprised expression crosses her face, but Remmie is in the midst of passing a truck and does not notice.

  In fact, he is so distracted that he fails to respond when she comments on the scenery, and again when she cautions him to slow down as they approach a small town.

  She finally taps him on the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you, Remmie? Do you want to turn around and go home to check on you mother?”

  Sweat dribbles down his forehead. His breathing is irregular, his lips quivering, his eyes darting, his hands once again gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers are unnaturally pale.

  “Remmie!” Crystal says, suddenly frightened. “What’s wrong?”

  He pulls to the shoulder, stops, and leans his head against the steering wheel. “I can’t go through with it,” he says with a whimper. “I thought I could, but I just can’t do it. I’ll have to find a telephone and call her before it’s too late—even if it means she’ll hate me for the rest of her life.” He begins to cry. “How could I have betrayed her like this?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I switched the candy. The sugar will put her in a diabetic coma, and it’s likely to be fatal unless she gets emergency treatment. I have to call her. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll call Dr. Whitbread and have him go to the house.” He sits up and wipes his cheeks. “Maybe it’s not too late. We’ve only been gone half—”

  “It’s not too late,” Crystals snaps, “and you don’t need to call anyone, especially this doctor. You’ll be confessing to attempted murder. I doubt the jury will feel much sympathy.”

  “I don’t deserve any sympathy, and I don’t care what happens to me. We’ve got to find a telephone.”

  She reaches over to take the key from the ignition. After a moment of reflection, she says, “Your mother is not in danger. While I was waiting in the kitchen, I opened both boxes and figured out what you’d done. I switched them back, Remmie. Audrey is contentedly eating sugar-free chocolates.”

  “She is?” he says numbly.

  Crystal’s nod lacks enthusiasm and her smile is strained. “Yes, she sure is. I knew you couldn’t live with yourself if you did something so terrible.”

  Remmie finally convinces himself that she is telling the truth and his mother is not in danger. “I suppose I’d better take you home.”

  “Why?”

  “You must loathe me.”

  “I’ll get over it,” Crystal says, shrugging. “What I think we’ll do is have our dinner and spend the night at this inn. Tomorrow morning we can go to the local courthouse and get a marriage license, and find a justice of the peace. Audrey will be surprised, of course, but she’ll get over it more quickly if it’s a done deal.”

  Remmie is more surprised than Audrey will ever be. “You want to get married—knowing that I tried to murder my mother? Don’t you want some time to think about it?”

  “I assumed you were going to propose this evening, and I’d decided to accept. I’ve already given my notice at the clinic so that I can stay home and take care of your mother.”

  Remmie attempts to decipher the odd determination in her voice, but finally gives up and leans over to kiss her. “I brought a ring to give you over dinner,” he admits. “It’s the one my fath
er presented to my mother on their second date.”

  “How thoughtful,” she says. “You really must call your mother as soon as we check in and reassure yourself that she’s perfectly fine.”

  And so Remmie and Crystal dine by candlelight and make love under a ruffled canopy. The following morning, a license is procured and a justice of the peace conducts a brief ceremony. The witnesses find it remarkably romantic and are teary as the groom kisses the bride.

  Only later, as Remmie catches sight of the white heart-shaped box on his mother’s bedside table, does he ask himself the obvious question: How did Crystal know to switch back the chocolates?

  He does not ask her, however. He is a good husband as well as a good son.

  And there is always next year.

  The Cremains of the Day

  Eloise Bainbury realized it was far too early in the day for sherry, much less gin, but there she was, composed but a bit teary, wringing her hands and staring numbly at the Louis XVI armoire that had been refitted as a liquor cabinet. Her hands shook, but somehow she managed to fill the glass without splattering her wool skirt. How foolishly she was behaving, she thought with a sigh. This was not the first time he’d stayed out all night, prowling the streets and eventually sauntering home as if he’d spent the night in a church waxing the pews. She knew better.

  She was standing at the kitchen window when her attorney, Milton Carruthers, called with the bad news. It came in installments, as always, and never in the trite good news–bad news format.

  “I’m sorry about this, Eloise,” he began nervously. “The accountant’s gone over all the tax returns. He said there were some questionable deductions but nothing we can use in court. I warned you that it would be a waste of money.”

  “So instead of facing his responsibility to me, Justin will go on with his sumptuous lifestyle while I try to find a job in a department store or fast-food establishment? I’m fifty-seven, Milt—not twenty-seven like that tramp he intends to marry as soon as the divorce is final.” Eloise took an unladylike gulp of gin, shuddered, and continued in a slightly raspier voice. “You know as well as I that Justin has stashed money in other accounts across the country. Can’t you just make him tell you? What about the judge?”