talking to my mother and my friends rather than starting preparations for an elaborate meal. And since I had a big contrary streak running all the way through me, I had sometimes rebelled in my own tiny way by wearing bizarre glasses to a Pan-Am Agra wives dinner, or by saying what I actually thought rather than what people wanted to hear.
“So,” I said suddenly, “have I been the wife you wanted?”
“I didn’t want ‘a wife,’ ” he muttered, clearly putting the phrase in quotation marks. “When I saw you standing on the steps in front of that house with the wind blowing your hair, looking so anxious, in that suit… I remember the color…” “You thought, Gosh, I want to marry her and keep her forever?”
“I thought, God, I want to get in her pants…”
I began to giggle, and Martin’s hand came out of the darkness and stroked my cheek.
“Good night,” he said, on the edge of sleep. “You have never disappointed me.”
“Good night,” I answered, and let go of the day.
My little traveling clock on the night table told me it was seven-thirty, and the wailing from next door told me Hayden had started his cycle.
I hopped out of bed before I was fully awake, and the cold of the floor gave me a nasty shock. Our house in Lawrenceton had hardwood floors too, but they never felt this cold. I slid my feet into slippers as I headed for the door, and I crossed over to the “nursery” with the soles slapping the floor pleasantly. The house seemed very quiet, except for Hayden, who was red faced and sobbing when I got to him.
He’d slept all night.
“Mama’s here,” I said, my voice still thick with sleep. “Don’t cry, baby!” I scooped him up from the crib, after figuring out how to lower the side. I only knew cribs had sides that lowered because I’d watched my friend Lizanne do the honors on her baby’s bed. For mothers less than five feet tall, the lowered side was an essential feature. Not that I was a mother! I warned myself, catching my error.
“Heat a bottle, please, Martin?” I called down the stairs as I changed Hayden on our bed. He definitely didn’t like the cold air smacking his damp bottom, and I didn’t blame him. He was overdue for a sponge bath, but I dreaded giving him one in this chilly house.
Down the stairs we went, Hayden still complaining but not as frantically.
The kitchen was empty. Far from coffee waiting for me and a bottle awaiting Hayden, everything looked boringly like it had the night before.
The door to the back porch opened. Martin stepped in, stamping his feet, and stood on a little rug by the back door to take off his boots. He stepped through to the kitchen in his stocking feet.
“Look outside, Roe!” he said, with the grin of a twelve-year-old.
For the first time I glanced out of the windows; and I realized why the house had seemed so silent. The fields and the driveway were covered with snow.
“Oh my God,” I said, stunned. I stared at the heavy white coating. “Oh. Wow.” From one horizon to the next, it was the same. “I’ve never seen that much snow in my life.”
“I almost wish we had a sled,” he said.
“I almost wish I had a cup of coffee.”
“Coming right up.” Martin was awful damn cheerful. Who could have guessed snow would have that effect? I sat there in a semiconscious lump while Martin heated the baby bottle, started the coffee, and made toast with a beautiful toaster that had to have been a wedding present for Regina and Craig.
Martin even hummed. He is not a hummer.
He took Hayden and gave him his bottle. “Look out there, fella. Snow everywhere! When you get bigger you can bundle up and go out there and make snow angels and pee in the snow and make a snowman…”
I sensed a theme.
By the time Martin had wound down, I had had time to pour two cups of coffee down my throat and eat my toast, too.
“Can we get out of here?” I asked. I took my third cup with me to the window. “I mean, can your car get out of the driveway?”
Martin looked serious, all of a sudden. He loves that Mercedes, for sure.
“I’ll call Karl,” he said, and vanished.
I tried to remember Karl from our wedding, which Martin had assured me Karl attended. I was drawing a blank. Of course, I’d been so nervous I was surprised I’d gotten the responses right.
I occupied myself by spreading towels by the kitchen sink to give Hayden that quick sponge bath I felt obliged to give him. He hated it just as much as he had the last time I’d tried this process, maybe even objecting more loudly because it was so cold. I’d already had dark doubts about this little ritual, which Amina had assured me was obligatory. After all, how dirty could Hayden get? I cleaned his bottom every time I changed him.
But I dutifully soaped the hands that never grasped food, and the feet that never took a step. At least, I told myself bracingly, all this complaining would surely wear out the baby, resulting in a good nap.
“Karl’s coming out,” Martin told me.
“Great. Remind me about Karl?”
“Karl Bagosian, whose family was Armenian a couple of generations ago. He went to school with me, though he’s a couple of years older.”
“So what does Karl do now?”
“He owns the Jeep place.”
I nodded wisely. It was all becoming clear.
“So you fellas were buddies through school?”
Martin shrugged. “Yeah, we were. We were on the football team together. We went hunting together. He dated Barby for a while. We joined the army together.”
“Speaking of high school buddies, what’s the story on Dennis Stinson?”
“I always hated that son of a bitch,” my husband said, with very little change in his voice.
“He seemed nice to me.” I tried to look innocent. “Just because he’s moved in on your ex-wife…”
“Cindy and I have been divorced for a long time,” Martin said. “I don’t think it’s that… or maybe, not much. And he tried to copy off my paper in geometry.” I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. Martin had the grace to look abashed. “Dennis just… I wouldn’t have minded Cindy living with someone, if it had been Karl. But Karl went and got himself married to a girl that just got out of college, right about the same time you and I got married. He’s got kids older than her, I think.”
If the amazing Karl was going to bring us a Jeep, I needed to get dressed. Jeans, a sweater, and boots seemed to be the uniform of the day, judging by Martin, who seemed to be more relaxed than he’d been in days. He even laid Hayden in the middle of our bed and brushed my hair for me, a pleasant pastime we hadn’t had a chance to indulge in lately.
Since Hayden remained content, I called my mother, but missed her both at her house and at the hospital. I left a message on her answering machine, and talked to John’s oldest son at the hospital. He said his father was on the upswing, that they hoped to take him home the next day, and he knew my mother would want to tell me all the details. He further informed me that my mother was holding up just fine, which I hadn’t doubted for a second.
Next I called Angel and Shelby to ask about the baby, found out little Joan was perfect in every respect, and Angel was recovering from the birth in record time.
I handed the phone to Martin so he could call the Pan-Am Agra plant, but he told me he’d already talked to his second-in-command that morning. I glanced at my watch and winced. If you wanted to work for Martin, you had to get up early and be bright the minute you slid from between your sheets.
“But I do need to talk to David in Receiving,” Martin decided. He punched in numbers wearing his business face, so I went downstairs and poured another cup of coffee.
Just then I heard a chugging noise, and looking out the window I saw a bright red Jeep coming through the snow. I could only assume it was on the driveway.
A man hopped out and began slogging his way to the front door.
Karl Bagosian was about Martin’s height, maybe five-nine or five-ten. His head was bare, and I saw that his hair was very thick and coarse, very dark, though graying, an attractive complement to his olive complexion. Martin was still on the phone, so I unlocked the door and threw it open.
