Perri O'Shaughnessy - Presumption Of Death

“You fought the fire? I owe you for that, Darryl. All that smoke, the sirens-”

“We almost had to evacuate you.”

“I didn’t know it came so close.”

“Ted and Megan’s new place almost burned down. Don’t know how we saved it, really. I was worried about you. I watched out for you.”

“Well, thank you, Darryl. Thanks for doing that.” They were keeping up the convention that he had dropped by after dark just because he was in the neighborhood. Elizabeth wondered what form the pass would take-would he sweep her into his arms? Get down on his knees? She felt curious and a little cruel. He had no right to be here. He had children, a wife. He was acting outside the mores, hers as well as his.

Then she thought sadly, I’m too lonely, tonight, to turn even this away.

What would she do when he made the pass?

His eyes ate her up.

Darryl was saying, “Actually, I came over to apologize. For my behavior at the block party last night. I made a fool out of myself.”

“Do you remember what you said, when you grabbed my arm and pulled me over toward the deck?”

His face went red. “To be honest, I don’t know exactly what I blurted out.”

“I’ll forget about it too, then.”

“Thanks. I’m not so good at talking even when I haven’t had a couple of beers.”

“Uh huh.”

“So,” Darryl said. He had run out of conversational gambits, so he just sat there.

“So.” Elizabeth nodded. She felt like slapping his big slow face, giving him the back of her hand a few times, to see if he could wake up. If only he would cut to the chase, because she was losing even her curiosity now.

Finally he resumed, “Britta got pretty wild there at the end.”

“It’s not the first time.”

“What was that all about? The recordings you were making? What were they?” He sounded abrupt.

“I’m… curious about people.”

“You sure had us freaked.”

“I gather information,” she said. “For my work. Just general things. I’m sorry it made everyone so self-conscious. That was never my intention.”

“You expected something to happen there? Have you always taped the parties?”

“No.” A lie. He really wanted to know, she could see that in his face, and she wasn’t about to tell him.

“I always hoped you were having fun. I always thought you seemed lonely. What kind of work do you mean?”

“Forget about it, Darryl. It was stupid of me.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Danny or the fires, does it?”

“Of course not.”

“What are you going to do with the tape?”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you? Do you want some more tea? Otherwise, let’s call it a night.”

“Because we’re good people on Siesta Court. Family people. Maybe you should give me the tape.” A warning, as if he felt she must be inimical to them? She wasn’t inimical, she was merely objective. Darryl was a local. He would never understand her work.

“Of course I won’t give you the tape,” she said. He shook his head in disappointment and stared at her body under the robe. He was young, strong, and not bad-looking, and she thought about him again.

“You’re widowed, aren’t you,” Darryl said. She almost breathed a sigh of relief as he finally got into it.

“Yes.” She noted clinically that she had been able to answer without a stab of pain for the first time.

“Tory and I met when we were thirteen.”

“Very young.”

“Right. And we were together for five years before either of us mentioned marriage. I left college and came back here to finish up.”

“Do you think you married too young?”

“Now I do. We weren’t really ready. Tory didn’t want to leave her family here in the Valley. I…”

“You?”

“I could live anywhere. I could live in Tanzania, teach school. I’m different from Tory.” He put his hands on his knees and his body tensed slightly.

You think you’re better than Tory? Elizabeth thought. You’re so wrong. I’ve got you all figured out, right down to clumsy adultery, if you can manage it. She felt contempt, and realized she had made her decision.

“To be honest, Tory and I have grown apart. She’s content leaving things as they are. We talk about the kids, visit family-I keep thinking I’ve missed out on some important things in life.”

“Must be hard, having a wife who doesn’t understand you.”

“Yeah.”

Moisture formed on his upper lip. She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Darryl?” she said. “Why did you come here tonight?”

“I always wanted to. You’re all alone,” he said, “and so nice-looking. I love your black hair. I love those blue eyes of yours. I don’t think I’ve seen such a shade before, ever. I love the way you live, so free.”

Elizabeth finished her tea. She poured herself another, then topped off Darryl’s cup. “You thought I seemed lonely?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Because I’m not married and live alone in this big house?”

“Because of… aw, shit. I’m not so good at this.”

“True.”

“I’m tryin’ to say… you and I could…”

“Could what?”

He pushed his foot out until it touched hers. Raising his eyes, he looked for a response in hers. “You’re so beautiful.” He leaned close enough to touch her cheek. “All my life I’ve done the things that were expected of me. Just once I want-I want-”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know a lot. I know you lost your family…” He seemed to realize that he had said something wrong. He stopped.

Elizabeth stood up. “I suppose you all talk about me behind my back.”

“Of course I know about you. I’ve had my bad times. Everybody has.”

“You with your four beautiful children. You say you envy my freedom. Maybe you also envy my money. Well, I envy you your babies. Go back to Tory,” Elizabeth said.

“Doesn’t a man have a right to pursue love in his life? I could help you. You’re so sad. We could be good for each other. I could surprise you.”

“Go home, Darryl.”

He stood up to full height. “You need a man, Elizabeth. You’re young and beautiful. You couldn’t save them, but you could still save yourself.”

“Get out!” she cried, thinking, You pompous asshole! You predatory married man! He was tall and close and burning to grab her. She stepped backward behind the study door and held it, ready to slam it in his face.

“Don’t come back!” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Darryl said. “I’ll go. I don’t know how to talk to you. But I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, and I can’t fight it. I can’t.”

J OLENE’S SUNDAY MORNING HAD STARTED OUT peacefully. While George slept in and sun filtered through the windows, she had whisked up blueberry pancakes for the girls. April loved the ones with a face in them, Callie preferred fewer bits of fruit.

Jolene mixed them in a big green glass bowl, waiting for the griddle to get hot enough. Scooping huge spoonfuls on the iron skillet, she watched the bubbles form and pop before flipping them, spreading them lightly with butter, then calling the girls, who, like their mother before them, didn’t get up until forced.

She called. Nobody came. She climbed up the long flight of stairs, her ankles complaining. Knocking on the door to the tiny attic room with her spatula, she called again. Finally, she heard stirring. “Wha… Grandma?” said Callie.

They needed to get up for church anyway. She didn’t cater to this idea that Tory had once told her, that kids were worked so hard during the week they needed to relax on the weekend. They should get up early for chores. Children needed responsibility and a sense of purpose in this nutty world. Maybe if she had been stricter with the girls’ mother…