Dovetail: A Novel(56)

“A safe life?” His voice trailed off, and then he looked deep into her eyes. “Did he hit you?” His tone was indignant.

“It was a long time ago,” she said. “I’d rather just put it behind me. Let’s just say we’re not keeping in touch, and I hope I never see him again.”

“Does this Ricky know you’re in Pullman?”

She shook her head. “No. I made sure of that. No one knows except my parents, and they would never tell.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE





1983


Most nights, Ricky stood in her backyard behind a thick tree trunk and peered into the closest window, rewarded by the view of her moving around the house, oblivious to his presence. He watched her sing to herself as she washed the dishes and discovered she had a penchant for curling up on the oversize chair closest to the bay window to read. He imagined those same hands, the ones squeezing the soapy sponge, washing his back in the shower like she had when they were newlyweds. Once she was back home with him, he’d allow her to read novels in the evening, but the picture wouldn’t be complete unless he was in the same room, watching sports on television. He could see it now, very clearly. So very soon, their life would be restored, back to the way it had been, back to the way it was supposed to be.

The one glitch in the whole plan was the obnoxious deliveryman—well, boy, really—who brought truckloads of old furniture and crap to the back loading dock on a regular basis. Kathleen and the other woman who worked in the store had an easy camaraderie with this guy, something that didn’t alarm him too much at first. Kathleen had a weakness for the underdog. Always holding the door for old folks and cripples, making small talk with the help at hotels. She even used to give money to panhandlers until he put an end to that on principle alone. Ricky felt that if she was going to be kind to anyone, it should be her own husband. Every moment spent talking to other people was time that she should have been paying attention to him.

When she went to lunch with the delivery guy, the easy back-and-forth between them as they walked down the sidewalk infuriated him. Kathleen had never laughed like that at anything Ricky had ever said, and he was her own husband.

He’d overheard the troll-doll employee address the delivery guy as Joe, a workingman’s name if ever there was one. Another point against this Joe? The outlandish way he dressed, with suspenders and a newsboy’s cap, as if he were a child whose mother had dressed him for a visit to the JCPenney portrait studio. The guy looked like a complete butthead. No competition there.

Ricky didn’t give him another thought until the night Kathleen and this Joe went to the movies. He waited until they were safely inside and stepped up to the ticket counter. “One, please.” Once inside the theater, he took a seat where he could watch them closely.

Joe wandered down the aisle like he was brain-dead, and then both he and Kathleen suddenly left, throwing a monkey wrench in his plan. He had to sneak out carefully behind them. Ricky witnessed them talking intently on a bench outside and followed them to Marjorie’s Supper Club, a place that looked a little too fancy for just friends. Ricky stood outside for a moment, infuriated. Was she dating this maggot?

He stormed off, intending to go back to Miss Whitt’s and think through his plan, the one in which he would play the hero, but when he arrived in the neighborhood, he changed his mind. Going to Kathleen’s backyard, he took an edging stone from a planting bed and broke one of the panes of glass in her back door. He held his breath, waiting to see if anyone nearby had heard the noise, but when he was greeted with silence, he reached inside and let himself in.

A feeling of power washed over him as he walked through her house. She couldn’t keep him out of her life. Not now. Not ever.

Ricky noted the dishes in the sink with disgust. Had she learned nothing from their time together? If these kinds of chores were done right away, a person would always return to a clean kitchen. This was something he’d learned from his mother. Kathleen had balked at this initially but eventually saw the wisdom of his ways. She’d obviously backslid since their marriage ended. “This is just disgusting,” he said aloud. He briefly considered washing them himself before deciding against it. He’d already moved across the country for her and gotten a new job. He was supposed to provide maid service too? Not happening.

He went from room to room, checking drawers and closets. Most of them weren’t too bad. He used the toilet while he was in the bathroom, almost laughing at the way he’d made himself at home.

When he’d thoroughly investigated the entire house, he did a final walk-through, flipping on every light switch as he went. Kathleen would find out that her house had been broken into, but she’d never suspect him, not in a million years. He was adamant about turning off lights in unoccupied rooms. Keeping them on was wasteful.

Yes, she’d know someone had been in her house, and that would make her fearful. Just what he wanted.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR





1916


Dear John,

I was very happy to get your letter, and happier still to read of your certainty in your feelings for me. As for me, I have felt myself drawn to you from the start. Is it possible to feel like you already know someone from the moment you’ve first met? If so, that is what I have found in you.