Celebration Read online

  “I did that already. The bank opens at eight. I brought you a present. I want to help you, Mrs. Kelly.”

  “I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. I’m doing just fine. At least I was until you showed up. What kind of present?”

  “Come over to the bus, and I’ll show you.”

  “You’re trying to trick me.”

  “No. The present is in the bus. I’m not going to give it to you until I make up my mind that you’re worthy of it. This particular present requires a great deal of responsibility.”

  “That’s something Logan would say. Take your present and go back to your bank.”

  “If you insist. First, though, do me the favor of at least looking at the present.”

  “If I do, will you leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.”

  Dunwoodie watched in horror as Kristine teetered on the sagging steps before gaining her footing. He was appalled at her condition, and she reeked of alcohol. He reached for her arm, but she shook it off. “I can manage.”

  “Let me help you, Kristine. I don’t mean at this precise moment. I mean really let me help you.”

  “Do you feel guilty about something, Mister Dunwoodie?”

  “People in town are talking about you. Your parents and their parents lived here all their lives, just the way mine have. I hate to see you tarnish their names and your own as well. You came back here because your roots are here. That’s commendable. Things went awry, and this is the result. You can’t wallow forever. Other women’s husbands have left them, absconded with their money, and they didn’t fall apart. It isn’t too late for you, but you have to commit to yourself that you’re going to rise above all this.”

  “What is all this?” Kristine sneered.

  Dunwoodie sucked in his breath. “Your drinking. You’re slovenly. You reek of alcohol and body odor. I would imagine the house looks the same way inside. You need to think about your children. It isn’t too late.”

  “Just show me the damn present and leave.”

  “Open the door. It’s on the front seat.”

  “Oohh, oohh. Are they yours?”

  “No. I bought them for you. Gracie is the smaller one. Slick is the boy. They look just like the first dog I ever had. Your parents gave him to me when I was seven. He lived till he was eighteen. God, I loved that little dog. I didn’t think I would ever get over his death. I guess I didn’t, because I never got another dog.”

  “Can I pick them up?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s what they’re waiting for. Ahhh, they seem to like you even though you smell to high heaven.”

  “Shut up, Dunwoodie.”

  “Why should I?” Dunwoodie quipped. “They’re my present. I have a say here. Can you handle it, Kristine?”

  “I don’t know, Dunwoodie. Probably not. They’re beautiful.”

  “Blue ribbon dogs, Kristine. Listen. I have an idea. I have six weeks’ vacation time coming to me. How about if I move out here and help you get straightened out. I’m a fair handyman, and I can get you off the sauce if you don’t fight me. No strings. Just your word that you will work with me. I can have you back on your feet inside of six weeks. There are more dogs where those two came from. Right now you have a tidy little bank balance we can work with. The bank will not be averse to lending you money to start up your own business. As long as you’re clean and dry.”

  A headache started to hammer behind Kristine’s eyes. Join the living. Could she handle that? A pink tongue licked at her chin. She smiled as she cupped the tiny head in the palm of her hand. “Are they true Teacups?”

  “Yes. Three pounds tops.”

  “I don’t know if I have the stamina ... what I mean is ...”

  “I know what you mean. Will you at least try?”

  Kristine looked at the two balls of fur in her hands. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded.

  “Then I say let’s get this show on the road. I came prepared in case you agreed.”

  Kristine watched in amazement as he hefted two large canvas bags from the back of the small bus. “I’m yours for six weeks. The first thing we’re going to do is eat some breakfast.”

  Kristine made a strangled sound that could have passed for laughter. “I don’t think there’s any food in the house.”

  “As I said, I came prepared. Groceries are in the back along with dog food, gear, and anything else we might need. You are going to scrub up, and I do mean scrub, while I make us some breakfast. Any messes the dogs make, you clean up. The only word you need to concern yourself with is responsibility. Know this. I’m throwing out all the liquor in the house.”

  Kristine sighed, tears welling in her eyes. She nodded, the pups clutched close to her breast. “Just tell me why.”

  Dunwoodie waited so long to reply Kristine was about to prod him a second time. “Because your children asked me to watch over you. I promised I would.” Kristine nodded again.

  “I like my bacon extra crisp and the butter on my toast melted.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Kristine smiled.

  In the old-fashioned bathroom, Kristine made a nest in the middle of the floor by using two fluffy yellow towels. The pups closed their eyes and were asleep in an instant.

  Kristine stared at herself in the mirror. Who was this ugly hag with the dark circles under her eyes and wild bush of hair? Who was this bony caricature staring back at her? How had she come to this? Dunwoodie was right, she looked like hell and smelled awful. She scrubbed, rubbed, and brushed until she thought her skin would come off in one long piece.

  Once more she looked at her naked body before she got dressed. The two rolls of fat under her breasts were gone, and her breast size had diminished along with all the extra padding on her hips and thighs. The word emaciated came to mind. A lightweight sweat suit would help a little. There was not much she could do with her wild bush of hair except to pull it back and tie it into a bun. The last thing she did was brush her teeth not once, not twice, but three times. Then she gargled and rinsed, using a great quantity of mouthwash.

  She still looked like she’d been struck down by the wrath of God, plus she wanted a drink so bad she found herself shaking with the thought. Just one drink. A little one. Maybe just a swallow. She’d squirreled bottles everywhere in the house. Surely there was one in her bedroom. A nip. Then her eyes fell on the sleeping puppies. How contented they looked. By bringing them up here to the second floor she had accepted the responsibility of ownership and caring for them. They’d trusted her to bring them up here, to fix a bed for them, then they fell asleep because they felt safe and content.

  Kristine jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. I can do this. I will do this. I have to do this. All my options are gone. I will do this. “I will do this,” she murmured over and over as she picked up the carpet with the sleeping pups to carry downstairs.

  She felt self-conscious, vulnerable as well as ashamed with someone else in her house who knew about her drinking problem and how low she’d managed to allow herself to sink.

  Kristine’s jaw dropped as she approached the kitchen doorway. She saw the mess on the kitchen floor that she’d never cleaned up. For months she’d walked around Logan’s footlocker and his belongings. Dunwoodie was sitting at the table sipping coffee. He nodded approvingly.

  “I would have cleaned up but I wasn’t sure you would want anyone touching your husband’s belongings. Those are Logan’s things, aren’t they?”

  “You went to school with Logan for a few years, didn’t you. They called you Woodie. Logan said you were a hell of a football player. He said you were good enough for the big leagues.”

  “I never got to find out. I blew out my knee my second year at Georgia Tech. The upside to that is I can always tell when the weather is going to change. What do you think we should do with all this?”

  “Right this minute I would love to burn it, but Logan might return one day and want
it, so I guess I’ll just pack it up and put it in the storage room. His wallet and car keys are here. Logan never went anywhere without his wallet and keys. There is forty-five dollars in the wallet and all his identification. You’re a man, what do you think it means?”

  “I think it means he’s left everything behind and gone off somewhere with a brand-new identity. With eight million dollars he could buy top-notch identification that would pass muster anywhere. You don’t need keys if you’re going on to a new place with a new identity. The fact that they’re in the trunk is just to throw you off. Obviously Logan knew you better than you knew him. It’s up to you if you buy into it or not.”

  “Are you trying to make me angry?”

  “No. I just want you to recognize what’s in front of you and not deny it. False hope is a terrible thing.”

  Kristine slammed the lid of the footlocker shut. Her hands were still shaking, and her knees felt rubbery. “You don’t like Logan, do you?”

  “I didn’t care for him as a boy. I thought he was arrogant and an opportunist. I don’t know the man he is today. However, from what I do know now, I would say my earlier assessment of him is on target.” He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Are you ready for the Dunwoodie Breakfast Special?”

  “Sure. He’s coming back. I just don’t know when that will be. He would never do this to me without a reason.”

  “He already did it, Kristine. If he comes back, it will be because he wants something else. Let’s call a truce here. You believe what you want to believe, and I will believe what I want to believe. Right now we have three primary goals. One is to get you back on your feet, two is to make things right with your children, and three is to take care of these two sleeping dogs. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. I want a drink.”

  “Here you go. Drink as much as you want. It’s all you’re going to get,” Dunwoodie said, pouring coffee into a large, heavy mug.

  “What should I call you?”

  “Aaron, Woodie, whatever you feel comfortable with.”

  “I like Woodie. I thought you were pretty stuffy when I first met you.”

  “I thought you were pretty stupid the first time I met you.”

  “Touché,” Kristine said. “Is there a Mrs. Dunwoodie?”

  “There was, but it didn’t work out. She thought the bank’s money was hers to spend as she saw fit. Our customers thought otherwise. It was a big scandal at the time. I survived. I like your kids. They have their heads on straight.”

  “I thought they would be home by now.”

  “I guess you wouldn’t know, since your phone was turned off. They aren’t coming home for the summer. All three of them got good jobs on St. Simons Island. They wanted to get some money ahead for next semester. The twins finished the semester with a 4.0 GPA. Tyler was a little behind with a 3.8. You should be very proud of them.”

  “Right now I don’t think I have the right to feel anything where they’re concerned. Perhaps someday we can all make it right. I’m willing to take all the blame. Good God, I can’t eat all that!”

  “Then you don’t get up from the table. Two eggs, three slices of bacon, two pieces of toast is not a lot of food. The orange is optional. The vitamins are a necessity, and you take them after you eat. Eat!”

  Kristine ate. From time to time she risked a glance at her breakfast companion. When he was satisfied that she would indeed clean her plate, he excused himself. “Tell me which bedroom is mine. I want to change, so we can get on with the program.”

  Kristine laid down her fork, her eyes full of questions. “First room on the right. It was Mike’s room. What program?”

  “You know, hard work. Exercise, work, more exercise, then more work. A good dinner and it’s bedtime at nine o’clock because we get up at four. It pays to start early before the heat takes over. We’re lucky today, no humidity.”

  “Just tell me one thing. Do you have a book you go by?”

  “No. Just good old common sense. I work with youngsters at the YWCA three days a week. If it’s good enough for them, then it’s good enough for you. The idea is to keep you so busy you won’t have time to think about drinking. I just need fifteen minutes. That will give you time to clean up, since I cooked.”

  “I can’t believe I’m listening to you, much less following your orders. What about the dogs?”

  “We’ll barricade the kitchen. They’ll be fine. Give some thought to what you’re going to do with that trunk.”

  The minute Kristine heard the banker’s footsteps on the second floor, she was off her chair to drag the footlocker into the storage room off the kitchen. Huffing and puffing with the exertion, she then filled the sink with soapy water. She was drying her hands when Woodie walked into the kitchen. Neither of them mentioned the footlocker. “Egg plates need to soak,” Kristine said.

  “Now we’re going to walk five miles.”

  “Five miles!”

  “Unless you feel you can go for six or seven. In a few days, when you build up some stamina, we’ll run three and walk two. Twice a day.”

  “Twice a day! Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No, I’m trying to get rid of the toxins in your body. Alcohol does terrible things to your body.”

  “How do you know all this?” Kristine asked sourly.

  “My mother was an alcoholic. No one knew but Dad and me. The doctor, too, but he’s dead now. It was a dirty little secret we shared. Dad referred to it as Mom’s spells. We had to keep it a secret. How would it look if the town’s leading banker had a lush for a wife? I had to learn how to cook and clean and take care of her when the other kids were out playing. She died in her sleep with a whiskey bottle in her hand. Try growing up with that one.”

  Kristine blinked. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m ready.”

  “Then let’s do it!”

  Two hours later, Kristine limped up the steps to the front porch. “I’m never, ever going to do that again. Do you hear me? I have charley horses that have charley horses. I also have blisters that have blisters. And a corn.”

  “It’s not a problem. We’ll cut holes in your sneakers so the canvas won’t rub on the sore spots. It’s twelve-thirty. We’ll have some lunch and then we’re going to tackle the barn to get it ready for your new business.”

  “You do all that. I’m going to sit here and rub my legs.”

  “No, no, that’s not what you’re going to do. You’re going to fix us a nice sandwich and some ice tea. Then you’re going to do the dishes, after which we will tackle the barn. We’ll do our three miles before dinner, which I will cook. Eight miles is good. Really good.”

  “Go to hell!”

  “I’ve been there a time or two, and it isn’t a nice place. C’mon, let’s get crackin’ here. Time waits for no man.”

  “Bullshit!” Kristine muttered as she stomped her way up the steps and onto the porch. “You are a sadist! What do my kids see in you?” she continued to mutter.

  Woodie grinned as he followed Kristine into the dim, cool house.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kristine observed the banker as she made lunch. Cala probably thought him handsome. Mike would think of him as a good athlete with a trim, hard body. Tyler would like his openness and his tell-it-like-it-is attitude. Is he handsome? Kind of. Too tall? No, just right. The jeans and jersey look perfect on his lean body. On his best day, Logan never looked as good as the banker. She squelched her thoughts immediately, her cheeks flaming.

  “How’s lunch coming? I’m starved. Kick off your sneakers. I’ll cut holes in them for you.”

  “What part of I’m-not-doing-any-more-walking didn’t you understand?” Kristine yelled as she slapped cold cuts between slices of bread. “Where did these groceries come from?”

  “They were delivered while we were walking. I called for them this morning after the phone was connected. You owe me $23 for the bill.”

  Kristine sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. “Listen, I appreciate your help here, but I a
m not athletically inclined. I can’t . . . won’t . . . I don’t want to exercise. There, I said it. You can pack up and go home now.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. You might be a quitter, but I’m not. We’re doing it!”

  “Kiss my ass, Aaron Dunwoodie. Don’t you listen? I’m a sedentary person.”

  “Do all you army people talk like that? It certainly isn’t becoming, any more than a drunk for a mother is becoming.”

  “Yes. No. I never talk like this. You’re bringing out the worst in me. I’m not going to drink anymore, okay?”

  “All drunks say that. Right now you’re probably wondering where you stashed some bottles. You think a little sip, a nip, just a swallow will get you over the hurdle. Hey, I’ve been there, remember? I’ve seen it all. Don’t try to con me, okay? Where’s lunch?”

  Kristine, her eyes murderous, slid a plate across the table.

  “This sandwich requires pickles. We need some carrot sticks, a banana, and an orange. You need to start eating right.”

  Kristine bit back the sharp retort she was about to utter. Instead she scraped the carrots, cut them, and peeled the oranges. To her dismay she ate it all and probably could have eaten more. She dumped the dishes into the sink with the other ones, muttering, “I’ll do them later.”

  “Let’s head for the barn. What shape is it in?”

  “About as bad as this house. It’s doable if that’s your next question.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Yes, sir!” Kristine said, snapping off a sloppy salute.

  At three-thirty, Woodie called a halt. “The pups like it out here. Look at them. They’re full of straw. You’re going to have to give them a bath at some point today. We did remarkably well. Most of this stuff is still good. I thought this place burned down.”

  “That was the other barn. Logan had them clear everything out so when we came back it wouldn’t be a constant reminder. It was in a lot better shape than this one. Look, I’m never going to get enough money to patch this place up. It needs major work.”

  “Not as much as you think. This is one sturdy building. We can get someone to come in and clean out the wood rot. There’s not that much. I know just the man to do it, too. Two or three weeks, and it will be in top shape. You do a little at a time. How do those sneakers feel now?”