The Man, The Moon And The Marriage Vow Read online

  “But my boys are another story,” Oggie said. “This story’s about Erik. And how he came from workin’-class people. And he had this talent.”

  “Talent?” Evie put her elbows on the table and leaned closer to her uncle, eager to hear every word.

  “Yeah. For paintin’ pictures and stuff. Very un-Rigginslike, if you know what I mean. The Rigginses are not artsy types. They don’t paint pictures and they don’t send their kids to college. They get jobs after high school and settle down as close to home as they can manage.”

  “So Erik grew up unhappy, because he wanted to paint pictures and go to college and—”

  “Whoa, gal. Give me time. Let me tell it.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  Oggie puffed on his cigar a few times. Then he continued, “No. As far as I recall, Erik Riggins was not an unhappy kid. Everyone just thought of him as a little bit odd, that’s all. Because of the picture paintin’, I mean. But he started workin’ with his uncle Dewey, paintin’ houses, on weekends and during school breaks when he was in his early teens. It was obvious he was goin’ to do what all Rigginses do. Learn his trade and marry a nice girl and settle down in North Magdalene—and only paint those pictures of his on the side.”

  “But then?”

  Oggie flicked his cigar in the ashtray Evie had provided. “Then he fell in love with Carolyn Anderson.”

  “Anderson?” Evie whispered to herself, remembering the vision of Nellie, when Erik had grabbed her arm down in the shop four days before.

  “If you go with him, I have no daughter,” Nellie had said.

  Oggie confirmed Evie’s suspicions. “Yeah, Anderson. Carolyn was Nellie Anderson’s one and only baby girl.”

  Evie shook her head. It was hard to believe. “Does this mean Nellie was actually married once?”

  “She was married, all right. Delbert Anderson’s long gone, now, though. He was long gone fifteen years ago, when Carolyn and Erik fell in love. Died of a massive coronary when Carolyn was barely in school. You ask me, I don’t know how he lasted even that long. Bein’ married to Nellie Anderson would have to be damn hard on any man.”

  Evie was nodding. “Nellie hated the idea of her daughter and Erik together, am I right?”

  “Bingo. Nellie Anderson always thought of herself as high-class. She wasn’t havin’ her precious little darlin’ takin’ up with any laborer, for all he was a hardworkin’ kid with a heart as big as the Sierras and a good head on his shoulders, too.” Oggie lowered his voice a little, to a conspiratorial level. “Between you and me, I don’t think anyone would have been good enough for Carolyn, so far as Nellie was concerned. Not any mortal man, anyways. Nellie ain’t got much use for mortal man, if you get my drift.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Love happened, between Erik and Carolyn. And even Nellie Anderson couldn’t make it go away. As soon as they graduated high school, Erik and Carolyn were married, right here in the community churen. Nellie refused to come to the wedding.”

  “She turned her back on her own daughter.” It was a statement. Evie knew the truth. She’d seen the truth, four days ago.

  “Yes, she did. Erik and Carolyn moved to Sacramento, for a fresh start. See, Carolyn loved her mama, even though she loved Erik more. And she was a sensitive kind of girl. She couldn’t stand to stay here and be snubbed by her own mother every time they passed on the street.”

  “And how did it work out for them—for Erik and Carolyn?”

  “Word was, they were happy. For a while. Erik built up a solid business painting houses and Carolyn worked for a year or two, then stayed at home to raise the kids. Everything was goin’ great guns. But then, sometime after the youngest was born—”

  “Becca.”

  “Becca, right. Sometime after she had Becca, Carolyn went into some kind of depression. She was in and out of medical and psychiatric hospitals for three or four years. It broke Erik, financially.”

  Evie saw again the vision of the blue-eyed woman, stepping unknowingly in front of the advancing truck. “And then Carolyn was hit by that delivery van,” she murmured, more to herself than to Oggie.

  Oggie peered at her through the smoke and clucked his tongue. “So. You’ve heard some of the story already, haven’t you?”

  Evie shrugged, a gesture that might have meant just about anything. “And now he’s come back home. To start over.”

  “That’s about the size of it. From what I understand, he was too damn proud to get any assistance from the government, or to work out some kind of debt reorganization. He sold the house in Sacramento to pay off a big chunk of the bills. And now he’s rented the house our Regina grew up in, the one next door to where she and Patrick live.”

  “Has he made up with Nellie?” Evie asked the question even though she was reasonably sure she already knew the answer.

  “No,” her uncle confirmed her suspicion. “They avoid each other as much as possible, from the way I hear it.”

  “But the children are her grandchildren. At least she spends some time with them, doesn’t she?”

  “Nope. She disowned her daughter when Carolyn ran off with Erik. And now she’s nothin’ more than a stranger to those three kids.”

  “Oh, Uncle Oggie. That’s so sad.”

  Oggie sighed. “I never claimed to understand what goes on in Nellie Anderson’s head.”

  Another question came to her. “And what about the children, then? Who takes care of them while Erik’s working?”

  “He’s got Tawny, his younger sister, to help him with the kids. His mom helps out, too, from what I’ve heard.” Oggie smashed the stub of his cigar in the ashtray Evie had provided. “Anythin’ else you need to know right now, gal?”

  Evie rose, went to her uncle and placed a kiss on the crown of his sweet, balding head. “That’ll do, Uncle Oggie. Thank you so much.”

  Oggie grunted. “You got any whiskey around here? I got a thirst that coffee won’t quench, if you know what I mean.”

  Evie went to the cupboard to get the shot glass and the lone bottle she kept there for occasions like this. She carried them over and set them before Oggie, who poured himself a shot, knocked it back and then grimaced.

  “Ah. That takes the edge off the day, for a surety. Now.” He handed her the bottle and the glass. “Put this away. Whiskey’s one of my many weaknesses. And one shot is more than I need.”

  Evie put the bottle away and rinsed out the glass.

  “So what are you gonna do now?” Oggie asked her, when she returned to the table.

  Evie hadn’t the faintest idea.

  And Oggie knew it. “Maybe you ought to just make yourself…available. Can you do that?”

  “Available for what?”

  “Family get-togethers. Social events.”

  “But I don’t understand how that will—”

  Oggie pulled out a second cigar. “It’s a small town. And Rigginses and Joneses do a fair amount of…interactin’. You just go when you’re invited somewhere. And maybe that new friend of yours will be there, too.”

  Chapter Six

  The Tuesday after Evie spoke with her uncle, she saw Erik on Main Street again. He nodded politely and walked on by.

  Her heart sank.

  But then she reminded herself that they were bound to meet again. She shouldn’t try to rush things. A friendship, after all, would take time to build.

  That Saturday, Regina and Patrick Jones gave a barbecue in their backyard. Erik and Evie were both there. Evie felt all nervous and fluttery at the sight of him.

  But then for the first hour or so, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid her. Evie’s spirits drooped. She actually considered pleading a headache and going on home.

  Jenny and Becca saved her from running away like that. Jenny approached shyly, with Becca right behind her.

  “Lo, Evie.”

  “Jenny. How are you?”

  “Okay. How’s the princess?”

  “She’s fine. Still on
the dresser in my bedroom.”

  “Honest?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I thought maybe, since she wasn’t in her snow globe anymore and nobody would buy her, that you might have just thrown her away.”

  “Oh, no,” Evie assured the child. “I would never do that.”

  Jenny beamed. It was clear she still hoped that her father might someday relent and allow her to claim the broken prize.

  Becca hoisted herself into the vacant folding chair on Evie’s left side. She put her soft little hand on Evie’s arm. “And how about Chippy? How’s he doing?”

  Puzzled, Evie turned to the younger girl. “Chippy?”

  “The chipmunk. The stuffed one. On the bed in your store. I named him Chippy. You didn’t…sell him, did you?”

  There were a lot of stuffed animals on that bed. Evie wasn’t exactly sure she remembered “Chippy,” yet she had no memory of selling a stuffed chipmunk recently. “I’m sure he’s fine. Still right where you left him.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Becca said with obvious relief.

  After that, Evie asked the girls if they were all ready for school to start. Jenny said she was ready, all right, and hoped to find a best friend there. Becca announced she was starting first grade and would be able to read her favorite story, Corduroy, all by herself by the end of the year. Corduroy, Jenny explained, was the story of a stuffed bear who lived in a department store and wanted nothing so much as for a child to come and take him home.

  As she talked with the girls, Evie was very much aware that Erik was watching them. And when it came time to eat, somehow he ended up sitting beside her. They didn’t say much to each other. But when he passed her the butter, his finger grazed hers.

  Evie felt the slight touch right down to her soul and for one brief luminous moment, she understood that she wanted much more than friendship from the big man with the rough hands. But she swiftly put such a scary thought right out of her mind.

  There was a street dance the next night, in honor of Labor Day. Evie attended, though she usually eschewed such activities. Erik was there, too. They ended up standing beside each other. And then he turned to her.

  “Maybe you would…like to dance?”

  She said she most definitely would. He held out his arm, she hooked hers through it. He led her out into the open space in the middle of the street. They danced, by the light of the paper lanterns that she’d helped the Ladies Auxiliary string from streetlight to streetlight that very afternoon.

  They talked of everyday things. Erik said that next year, the Labor Day Dance would be held in the new town hall, which was visible a hundred yards away, across the street from Lily’s Café. The hall was nearly completed, and being built with money donated by the wealthy writer, Lucas Drury, who was Mark Drury’s father.

  Erik smiled down at Evie, his hand riding lightly on the small of her back as the band played a slow country song. “My own boy, Pete, seems to have formed some kind of club with Mark Drury and Marnie Jones and my brother’s boy, Kenny. They call themselves the Mountaineers.”

  “Very imaginative,” Evie whispered a little breathlessly. It felt to her as if her body burned all along the front of her, where it was lightly touching Erik’s.

  The following Tuesday, they happened to drop by the post office at the same time. In North Magdalene, since there was no house-to-house delivery, most people visited the post office daily to check the boxes they rented. When Erik walked in, Evie was sorting through her mail, standing at the little counter that ran along the side wall.

  He came through the glass door, caught sight of her—and his face changed. He smiled, but it was more than a smile. It was a look of…gladness. She knew without a doubt that he was thrilled to see her. She felt exactly the same.

  He approached and they stood right there talking, beneath a bulletin board that was covered with pictures of America’s Most Wanted. Evie felt flushed and excited through the whole conversation.

  When they parted, she realized she had no memory at all of what they had talked about. All she knew was that she loved talking to him, watching him smile and tip his head to the side. She loved the way he listened, as if he really wanted to hear what she was telling him. So many people only waited for their turn to talk. They didn’t take the act of listening seriously. But Erik did. He truly listened and he was thoughtful, always stopping to carefully consider his words before venturing an opinion.

  On Wednesday, after school was out, Becca and Jenny came into Wishbook.

  Evie was dusting a display case when they appeared. Jenny declared that she wanted to own a shop just like Wishbook when she grew up. Then she asked to be allowed to help. Evie gave her a dust cloth. The two of them carefully polished several shelves of china and knickknacks while Becca sat on the bed among the stuffed animals, conversing with Chippy.

  When the girls left, Evie put Chippy away on a storage shelf beneath one of the display cases. Even if Erik would never allow Evie to give his daughter the toy, no one else was ever going to own it, and that was that.

  That night, at a little after nine, Evie’s phone rang.

  “I think we should talk,” Erik said without preamble.

  Evie’s throat, which had felt perfectly normal just a moment before, was suddenly like sandpaper, while her palms had gone clammy with sweat. “I…all right.”

  “I’ll come over there.”

  “Umm, right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  Evie’s legs went wobbly. Slowly, she sank to a nearby chair. “But…the children. Who’ll watch them?”

  “My mom said she would.”

  “Oh.”

  “Evie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is there some problem with my coming over now?”

  “No. Certainly not. Just come up the back stairs to the door there. It opens onto the hall that leads to my apartment. You remember my apartment, don’t you?”

  He made a noise in his throat, which she took for a yes. Then he muttered, “Ten minutes,” and hung up.

  He was there in eight and a half minutes. Evie bad counted the seconds, so she knew precisely how long it took him.

  Once inside, he seemed to fill up her small living room, as he did most enclosed spaces. He was wearing tan corduroy jeans and a forest green, slightly threadbare T-shirt and he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen in her life.

  “Sit down.” She gestured at a chair.

  He dropped into it. She made herself perch on the end of the couch.

  Then she sprang to her feet again. “Oh. Can I get you something? Lemonade?” She thought of the bottle she kept for her uncle. “Whiskey?”

  “No. I just want to talk.”

  She made herself sit on the couch again. “All right.” Surreptitiously, she rubbed her hands together. They were clammy again. Her mouth felt like cotton. “What do you want to talk about?” she managed to ask, then swallowed quickly so she wouldn’t have to cough the dryness away.

  “You and me.”

  Oh, my Lord, she thought as she managed to murmur, “I see.”

  He said, “Evie, I like you. A lot.”

  “Me, too,” she replied, ridiculously eager. She made herself take a deep breath, then said, with more dignity, “I mean, I like you, too.”

  He was leaning forward in the chair, his elbows on his slightly spread knees, his hands clasped between his legs. He rubbed his hands together, thinking. Then he spoke again. “I thought that we might become friends.”

  Her eyes widened. She felt a big smile break across her face. She opened her mouth to say she’d thought the same thing.

  However, he spoke again before she could get the words out. “But then, I thought about it some more. And I knew even friendship wasn’t going to work.”

  Evie felt the smile melt from her lips. Her shoulders drooped.

  He went on, “But it looks as if friendship is happening anyway, no matter what I thought.”

  She sat up straight again. Th
is wasn’t so bad, after all.

  “As I said, I really do…like you. And so do my girls. They told me they came to the shop today.”

  She licked her dry lips. “Yes. They were here. I love having them here.”

  “Well, I guess that’s good. Because it would break their hearts if I told them not to come here. They…they seem to have sort of fastened on you and your shop as something just a little bit magical. And they’ve had a rough time, losing their mother. You know, don’t you, about their mother?”

  Evie nodded.

  Erik looked down at his shoes. “I suppose you know the story. About Carolyn’s illness.”

  “Well, I—”

  He met her eyes again and waved a big hand. “Don’t feel bad. It’s okay. Around here, everybody knows everything. That’s just how it is.”

  “Yes, I’ve, umm, noticed that.” Another rather wavery smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  Erik stared at her; he looked slightly stunned. “Lord,” he said in a near whisper. “You’re so damn beautiful.” Then he looked down at his shoes again. “Sorry.”

  Evie blinked. “What for? I don’t…I don’t understand. All you said was—”

  His head shot up. His gray gaze burned right through her. “It can only be friendship, Evie. That’s all.”

  She realized she wasn’t breathing, and it took her a moment to get air into her lungs. “Well,” she said, when the oxygen had found its way to her brain once more. “That’s fine. Friendship is fine. It’s exactly what I want, too.”

  Now he was the one blinking. “It is?”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “The truth is, I’m a very…independent woman. I have never married—and I never will.”

  “You won’t?”

  “No. I like my life just as it is. But I can always use a friend. Someone to talk to, to laugh with. To spend time with now and then.”

  “Yeah,” Erik said. “Yeah, I’m with you. Me, too.”

  “Then,” she said happily, “we have no problem, do we?”

  “No.” He shook his head. Evie thought he looked like a man who’d just won the lottery. There was a dreamy, halfdisbelieving grin on his face. “No, I guess we don’t.”