Works and Days

Vernal

Conclusion

“I’m just here to take the boys.”

Jackie looked at Kim Bayle. She was tanned in March, blue eyed, golden haired and great figured despite having birthed three kids, and she had a dazzling smile that hid what a bitch she truly was. Jackie, on the couch, nodded at Kim as their mother herded Russ, Tommy and Frankie around her and then said to her ex-husband, “I’ll bring them back to you tonight?” with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course,” said John. “I would never dream of cramping your lifestyle.”

Kim gave her ex-husband a withering look and headed out the door with Frankie tugging on the pant leg of her chinos.

“And she still manages to wear platforms,” Jackie commented.

John laughed. Jackie was glad of it, and glad that Kim was gone. She always felt less in the presence of Kim Bayle. Even if the other woman had not been thin and golden and fashionable and more than economically secure, Jackie would never forget that the first time she had ever seen her was swinging from John’s arm at one of the family parties, completely surprising Jackie with her existence.

“Oh, Jackie, I’ve heard so much about you!”

“You ready, Jaclyn?”

In the present, Jackie looked up at John Mc.Larchlahn.

“Yeah,” she stood up. John had taken her hand.

 “I’m ready.”

“I told you,” he said, draping her coat over her shoulders as they left the house, “I probably should have come to get you instead. Transferal of the children is an awful thing to see.”

He smiled from the side of his mouth, but she knew he was only half joking.

However there was a reason she’d come to Fort Atkins instead of waiting for John to come to Royal Street.

All the way to the restaurant, fitful bits of blue shone out of the grey sky, and John’s van sloshed through the slush on Merys Parkway.

“It’s almost so warm you don’t need a coat,” John commented.

“I don’t know about that, but I hear it’s supposed to be almost sixty next week.”

“I hate winter,” John declared.

“I got a new job.”

“Hum?”

“To support the art habit,” Jackie elaborated. “I do secretarial work at home. Abby does it too.”

“I didn’t think Abigail would have the presence of mind for that,” John commented.

“Abby’s plenty smart.”

“But she’s a drunk.”

“She’s—” Jackie considered the phrase, “Abigail Devalara likes her martinis.”

“How’s Felice?”

“Good. She got a raise.”

“What does she do, anyway?”

“I’m not quite sure. Is that the restaurant?”

“Yep. Almost missed it.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jackie murmrued as they turned into Shanghai House,

“Chinese restaurant,” John murmured back, “Right next door to an animal shelter. Coincidence?”

Jackie swatted John in the face with her left hand, and then brought it down his nose and lips.

“You haven’t given me a face swat in years.”

“You haven’t said something racist as fuck in years.”

John raised a solemn hand.

“I apologize to all the Chinese people who are not in this car and do not eat dogs and cats.”

“I think you need another face swat.”

“You need it more.”

“No, I don’t. John. Don’t face swat me. John! John!”

For that moment it was easy to forget that there was anything remotely serious to say.

 

After dessert, which John ordered and Jackie could not name, she simply said, “I’m pregnant.”

At first, John tilted his head to look at her as if she had said something incomprehensible but still very interesting. Then he looked at her as if she had done something marvelous that had nothing to do with him. Then he said:

“We haven’t even... not since... that... Christmas Day.”

“Well,” said Jackie, feeling more relaxed now that she’d gotten the subject off of her chest, “you gave me one hell of a Christmas present.”

“Jaclyn! How long have you known? Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I’ve known for sure since the third week in February, and as for not telling you—or anyone—I was looking for the right moment—”

“Jackie—r”

“And, no matter when I told you, I’d still be pregnant.”

“Well…. Well, now what do we do?”

“Well look at the bright side,” Denise said Thursday morning over coffee, “at least now he’ll marry you.”

“Forgive my sister,” Patti said, “she’s off her meds.”

“Well, he will,” Denise went on. “That’s what he did with Carol—”

“Kim,” Patti corrected her sister.

“Whatver, she was bitch with a complexion like Samsonite.”

“She’s still got it,” Jackie said, looking at her own pasty flesh as her Newport burned away.

“This is fabulous,” Felice exulted and they all looked at her.

“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this secret so long! I’m gon be an aunty now... more or less,” then she added to Patti. “So will you.”

“Yes,” said Patti. “Well, thank you.”

Felice nodded magnanimously.

A smile crept over Jaclyn’s face, and she touched her barely rounded belly.

“I’m scared,” she said softly.

“There’s a baby in me.” she chuckled a little. “I’m going to be a mommy.”

Patti smiled, remembering. She put her hand to an empty belly. Once upon a time, a long time ago, there had been someone there. Often, it was strange to associate Russell with that tiny someone. Or, remembering Russell in her arms, she had a hard time believing that the red head with the green eyes, the sharp tongue and the folk guitar was that same creature. For a brief bright moment she saw perfectly why Thom wanted this retreat so badly.

Denise looked out of the kitchen window and said, “Oh my, there’s that really fuckable guy coming up the walk. Flowers, three piece suit. God, he’s a looker. He just dropped the flowers. God, what a nice ass!”

“Who?” Felice demanded.

“Kind of blondish, short hair, Nice smile,” Denise continued her report, standing up.

“He’s kind of... um! Maybe he’s come for me! Oh, never mind,” she shook her head and moved back to the table. “It’s just John.”

As Jackie hopped out of her chair, Patti, putting her sister’s description of their brother out of her mind, demanded, “Why didn’t you answer the door, then?”

Jackie opened the kitchen door. John fell to one knee, holding out the flowers and cried, “Will you marry me?”

As Jaclyn Lewis’s eyes flew wide open, her right hand immediately curled into a fist.

“And so you punched him in the face?” Thom was trying to understand that night over dinner, as his sister disconsolately continued chewing her dinner.

“Yes.”

“And this makes sense to you?” Thom eyed his wife.

“Of course it does,” Patti said, “More potatoes, Russell?”

Russell, who was thinking that if John got punched in the face one more time at 1735 Breckinridge he’d never return only said: “No, Mom.”

Thom looked back to his sister.

“Sixteen years of friendship doesn’t do it,” Jackie said, taking the potatoes and flinging a scoop onto her plate with each realization, “Being the love of your life doesn’t do it. Divorcing your mistake of a wife doesn’t do it.  But knocking me up—”

Thom took the bowl of mashed potatoes from his sister.

“Now that,” Jackie rolled her eyes, “that does it! That gets me a wedding ring!”

Then Jaclyn Lewis burst into tears and her brother and sister-in law looked at her while her nephew lowered his eyes and paid attention to his glass of milk.

“Oh, Russell, I’m so sorry,” Jackie sobbed. “I didn’t want to say that in front of you. I didn’t want to act like this in front of you.”

“Once,” Patti said, “I tried to protect Russell from the fact that he comes from a frightening family, but now,” she glanced at her redhead, “there’s just no sheltering him.”

“I knew you had it bad for her,” Kim told her ex-husband when she came back that night for the kids. “What are you going to do now?”        

For once, Kim truly looked concerned. John realized that she had never really been unconcerned.

“What can I do? It’s in Jackie’s hands now.”

“Wow,” Kim said, “I feel like I should tell the boys they’re gonna have a little half brother.”

“Don’t you dare! What am I gonna do?”

“What have you done already? I mean,” Kim lowered her voice, “aside from fucking her?”

And John told her everything, and Kim began to chuckle, folding her suede jacketed arms.

“What?” John looked a little irritated.

“Then you pulled the old proposal trick on her? Now that I’ve knocked you up, let’s get married!”

John looked at his ex-wife, a little disgusted.

“Yeah,” he said, at last, sounding absent. “I guess I did.”

“Well, you fucked up this time,” Kim told him. “You really did fuck up. You all need to have a talk.”

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We'll see how that retreat turns out soon enough, but first we're going to make a stop in Westrial, and drop in on Rossford.