The Wednesday Couple

Seems she did a real good job of doing that as well. I looked at those results last night. When Mandy was making dinner, I went into our home office and opened our fire safe to look at it. The samples all matched, the mother was indeed the mother, both children were brother and sister, and the dad really WAS the dad.

So why was I now looking at a report that clearly stated that the sample I sent with the children's samples stated that both children were related, but that I was not the father of either of them? The urge to hurt her was real on so many levels. The paperwork disappeared from my view as I wept at seeing the results. Just who the fuck was I married to, and could love really make you that insanely blind?

My boss remained silent as he just sat watching me, waiting. In situations like these time seems to want to dictate to others. I had read and re-read that report so many times I felt like I was wearing out the ink. I felt so very old and weary; when I looked up at my boss he winced. What he saw I will never know, but I recognized the sadness that followed.

"It took ten years to build that marriage, and less than a week to kill it stone dead. If I go back to that place I once called home I will hurt her. She may have destroyed our marriage a thousand times over, but her children need their mother."

"They are still YOUR children, Daniel! You were the one who cut the cords, who chased away the monsters under the bed. That report means nothing if you don't want it to."

I knew what my boss was trying to do, and I wasn't angry with him. With each of our discussions he had tried so very hard to bring positives to the table. I took on board what he had tried to say, yet my own mind screamed "NO!"

"I'm just the glorified babysitter they call dad, because their real dad won't do anything other than knock their mom up. I'm sure I feel something for them but, whatever it is, it's clouded by what I feel for their mom and dad."

Even when I handed my boss the report he only took a casual glance at it. Watching me read it had said enough for him to know the outcome of the DNA test. I heard him say he was sorry.

"How soon can we get this over with?"

"I have everything in place; you can leave whenever it suits."

I nodded my head and stood.

"I'm going to pack some things and visit the bank. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

My boss simply nodded his head. The report still sat on his desk when I left. An hour later saw me with my life in two suitcases. Ten years of working to build something that I could eventually retire with and call my own, and all it amounted to was two damn suitcases' worth of clothes. I knew what was in the bank with regards to savings, rainy days and holiday money, and I took most of it out.

Two hours later the cab dropped me at the car park around the back of my company. My boss had bought a car in the company name, and told me he would make sure it was insured for two years. Even as I stood in front of him and shook his hand one last time I felt sad for him. I was leaving - it was he that would have to face the aftermath, and that saddened me.

He thrust something into my hand and I looked at it.

"It's a cheap cell; it only has my number on it. When you're settled call me to let me know. This is yours as well."

He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket; the cashier's check was for all my wages. If I had been paid my worth I would have earned shit these last few days. I hugged him and told him what he already knew: that he was the nearest thing to a father that I had after my own had passed away.

*******

Even as I pulled out of that car park I didn't know which way I was heading. All I wanted to make sure was that it was as far away from here as I could make it. For the first three days I drove until I was too tired to drive anymore, sleeping in my car and, once awake, driving off again. That worked up until I pulled into a gas station and the guy behind the counter kept his hand close to the panic button. I got my first look at myself in the glass of the fridge door I opened to grab a soda, and understood why he kept his hand there.

The next three days I managed to find cheap motels along the way and kept the beard to a small goatee and a mustache. The drives were still ten or twelve hour ones, my need to keep the distance between me and my past as far apart as possible keeping urging me on. Hell I wasn't even sure which of the states I was in anymore either. What made me stop, OK, what made me swerve and almost crash, was the sign that said "Welcome to Clarksville."

Only there was a guy up on the board scrubbing out the part that some spray painter had altered, it now reading "Welcome to Whereville." I sat on the side of the road and watched for a while, snickering to myself as I realized that this was the closest I had come to laughing for a while, so I figured it was time to investigate Clarksville and, if I found anyone with paint on their hands, I might just thank them for the laugh.

The diner was my first port of call, my stomach reminding me that carry-outs only have a short life in a body, and I really did need a good cooked meal inside me. Even when I sat and looked around I never did see anyone with paint on their hands, and I smiled once again, my thoughts taking a sideways turn when the waitress snuck up on me.

Between us we settled on something for me to eat, and the coffee was in continuous fill until the food arrived. I had just taken my first bite of real food when the lights went out, the waitress swearing once before she realized that she was in mixed company and apologized. Other than with the aid of a torch I figured I had zero choice but to help out or starve. Asking the waitress where the fuse box was only got me some homely woman to come out from the kitchen.

She in turn took me to the back of the diner, and less than ten minutes later the lights were back on and my food was still warm. The woman from the kitchen told me my meal was free on account of the fact I got the lights back on. We settled on me paying for my dinner and dessert being free, since all I did only took ten minutes. The thing was I was now no longer just a face amongst many.

The Sheriff was parked behind my car when I left the diner. He watched as I came out and had joined me by the time I got to the driver's door.

"Evening."

The key to my car went back into my pocket.

"Evening, Sheriff. Is something wrong?"

"Nope, everything's just fine. I would appreciate it, though, if you would come with me."

"Front or back?"

This time he smiled.

"Front will be fine. Like I said, young man, you ain't done nothing wrong."

Although my bullshit meter was on full alert, I didn't get the feeling he was playing with me, so I shrugged my shoulders and went along for the ride. Silence did seem to be the theme, so I went along with that as well. The ride itself didn't last more than a few minutes, since we ended up behind the courthouse.

The Sheriff sat for a moment before he smiled and said, "Didn't I tell you, son, all we want to do is have a chat. After that I will take you back to your car, and you can decide what to do with your life after that."

That bullshit meter still sat in neutral so I followed the Sheriff into the courthouse and along a corridor, stopping at a door with "Judge Carlton Whitmore" on it. The Sheriff knocked once and walked in.

"Well, well. The light man."

Still unsure of what he wanted, I just waited.

"Son, you came to our attention because you stood up and did something, and in this town there ain't that many folks willing or able to do just that. If you hadn't got the diner's power back up, Marlene would have had to have phoned Walter over at Chester Grove, and that's clear across the state line. Hell, we would have been without the diner for close to two days."

"I'm not interested, Judge."

Both men looked at each other.

"Well that's a crying shame, son, since I spoke to your old boss and he seemed to think you could well be interested."

The judge watched my confusion and then realization. The car and insurance were still in the company name. This time I sat and listened; it seemed Hank Peters was the general electrician, plumber and just about anything else that required him getting his hands dirty. It was both his niche and the town's downfall. Hank liked to work alone and, when a heart attack caught up with him, it left the town without cover.

I spent the night in jail thinking about it: I even smiled at the invite. Turns out Mrs. Calderwood's boarding house had termites and was in the process of being treated, so the only accommodation was the jailhouse. True to his word, the Sheriff did leave the door open, for which I was extremely grateful. As I lay on that bed looking up at the ceiling, I somehow didn't see my life looking like this.

A cute little redhead came in the next morning and placed a breakfast tray on my bed. We met at the door of the cell as I was coming back from having a shave. She didn't say much other than the word "breakfast," and bolted for the stairs. I heard the door slam a couple of seconds later. Even the Sheriff came down to see what had happened.

"Son, what the hell did you say to Katie?"

"Thank you."

"What?"

"Sheriff, I swear, she said breakfast, I said thank you, and then she bolted for the stairs like I was going to chase after her."

The grin on the Sheriff's face was infectious enough for me to copy him.

"Oh I wouldn't do that, son, that's Katie."

He made it sound like that was all the explanation needed as he walked back up the stairs and I tucked into breakfast. Even as I sat in my cell eating, my smile wouldn't leave me. It was stealth - I swear it was. I mean, who else would accept a job while eating breakfast in a jailhouse? I'm sure stranger things have happened in life, but at that moment I just couldn't remember reading about any.

It still took a day of paperwork and my old boss faxing my qualifications and letter of recommendation over. We decided that for the sake of the town it would be best to break Hank's old business down. Plumbing wasn't something I was trained in, and the thought of flooding someone's house through my ignorance didn't sit right with me. When the Sheriff opened the door to Hank's shop I was having a bad case of second thoughts.

With those thoughts in mind, a boy of maybe ten walked past me and through the door, grabbed a broom, and started on the mess that was Hank's shop. It was the Sheriff that got his question in first, but only because I didn't know the boy's name.

"Jimmy, what the hell are you doing?"

"It's Katie, Sheriff. She said I have to come help for the day to pay off busting the window on the judge's back door."

Whoever this Katie was, she sure had a grip on a lot of things around here. The mere mention of her name always seemed to stop any argument. The Sheriff just shrugged his shoulders and told the boy not to touch anything but the broom, before walking back to his car and leaving me seemingly in charge of Jimmy. I will say this, that the boy must surely have been afraid of Katie. He never stopped cleaning in all the time he was in the shop, except when he stuck his hand up to ask to go to the bathroom.

When the wall clock struck four the boy leaned the broom up against the wall and wiped his hands down his pants leg before looking at me.

"You will tell Katie I stayed till four like she told me to, won't you, mister?"

I nodded and pulled out a few dollars from my pants pocket, but the boy simply shook his head and left without even looking back. When I got here I figured the judge and the Sheriff ran this town; now it seemed the name Katie sure opened more doors than they could. With a shrug of my shoulders I went back to work stacking shelves and opening boxes that Hank never seemed to get around to opening.

Holding a brand new fuse box in my hands I couldn't help myself.

"Now that is going in the diner once I talk to whoever the owner is."

"That will be Marlene. She does most stuff in the diner and covers for sick. Sundays is the only day Marlene closes the diner, but even then you may have to wait until after church before she will let you in."

When I spun around I nearly dropped the fuse box. The redhead was leaning against the door, her arms folded as she looked around the shop.

"Jimmy left at four."

It was only then that she took a step or two inside. Looking at both the floor and the stacked shelves as she did, her lack of conversation only seemed to make me carry on talking.

"Although he was a big help, I could have got the cleaning done. He wouldn't accept payment for his labor."

Placing the fuse box down my hand went to my pocket.

"Perhaps you could give him this since he wouldn't accept it from me."

By the time I looked up with the money in my hand the redhead was gone. Even when I got to the door and looked outside she wasn't to be seen anywhere. I was starting to think Katie could make a Ninja scared with the way she just sneaked up on people. I was still stacking shelves when the phone rang on the counter; I looked at it for a moment before I realized I worked here now, so it might be best if I answered it.

This Katie woman sure liked to oil the wheels around town. It was Marlene on the phone telling me that Sunday afternoon would be fine with her opening the diner for me to change the fuse box. That's when I smiled and shook my head, as Marlene went on to tell me that she attended church on Sundays and then proceeded to ask me why I didn't. It was also then I told her I was in the middle of a very important job and once I confirmed Sunday and the time I put the phone down.

*******

I must have been down to my last unopened box and set to start making an inventory when another four women turned up, with an age range of about eighteen to late forties. The oldest introduced herself as Annabelle Fenton. Seeing the blank look on my face, she rolled her eyes and then tried another approach.

"The Reverend Fenton's wife, my dear. Katie mentioned that you've taken over from Hank, so I rustled up some of the women from the church and, while you're sorting out this squalor, we will deal with whatever upstairs looks like, and try our best to make it at least habitable."

The blank look didn't bother Annabelle in the least. I think to her she had said what she was there for, and simply got on with it. For the moment I was just the casual observer at this insight into small town life as all four women wandered up the stairs at the back.

The pause was momentary before I heard, "Oh, my sweet Lord. Tessa dear, get on that cell thing of yours and call the rest of the girls, or we may be here all night."

Even I wondered if it was wise to go up and have a look at Hank's lifestyle but, judging by the way he ran the shop, I might find it a good idea to stay out of the way. What followed over the next two hours was a procession of women, and a guy who was put to work dragging black bags down the stairs, out the door and into the back of a pick-up that, when full, disappeared for a while before returning to its place outside the shop.

The odd order from Annabelle still made me smile before I went back to my inventory.

"Charlotte dear, please open the windows to let the Lord's air in. Just wash your hands when you're done, dear; we haven't bleached that window yet."

"Just put the bed linen directly into the black bag, Betty. I will get Jason to burn that one before whatever is living in it wakes up and bites someone."

Even Marlene came by with a tray of covered Styrofoam cups, a letter written on the top of every cup to correlate with the soon-to-be owner, and went upstairs to some very welcome words from the twelve or so women and the odd guy who were now up there. Even with my head buried into shelves and paperwork, plus the running commentary from upstairs, I sensed something.

When I looked around a covered cup and a sandwich in saran wrap sat on the counter. The cup had the letter D on the top. Marlene came down the stairs about that time, and smiled at me looking at what was on the counter.

"That would be Katie. She said she would swing by and drop yours off."

Being caught unawares and feeling just a little spooked, I asked the most obvious question.

"Marlene, who the hell is Katie?"

For a moment she looked totally confused, before she had to remind herself that I wasn't from around here. That was when she sat on the stool I had just vacated and told me about Katie. She was the judge's daughter and had gone off to college, then started doing some local radio work before she decided to return to Clarksville. To prove her point, Marlene pulled the tired looking radio that sat on the counter towards her and turned it on before tuning it, and then Katie's voice emanated from the box on the counter.

"Yes folks, we have an electrician in our midst once again, following the sad death of Hank. I hear he's still finding his feet, so be gentle with him; and Jordon, Beryl called again to tell the whole word she loves you, so you know what's coming next."

Katie's voice faded out and the sound of Lionel Richie's "Hello" came over the radio. I heard a soft sigh from Marlene.

"Those two will be married before the year is out, you mark my words."

Marlene got up and walked out of the shop with me looking at her and shaking my head. The church women upstairs started cleaning again, and my own thoughts seemed to divide: the inventory was going well and Lionel Richie was coming to the end of his lament while my own thoughts escaped my lips.

"I wonder how long it will be before she's stabbing him in the back as well."

"Won't ever happen. Beryl waited twenty-two years for Jordon. Even followed him into the service to do it. She was a combat medic, and a hundred yards behind him when both their worlds exploded in Afghanistan. The two guys next to Jordon died immediately, and he had leg and chest wounds."

The shock of hearing another voice caused me to stand too quickly, and I cracked my head on the shelf on the way up. Katie continued her statement as she sat on the stool by the counter.

"She killed six people that day to protect her man. She even told Jordon that he better not die or she would kill him herself."

Katie smiled at that. "Jordon was near on half a year in hospital with his injuries, and Beryl got a job as a nurse at the same hospital to be near him. That's where their first child was conceived, and Beryl tells me she's aiming for a second just after the wedding."

It was odd seeing Katie sitting in front of me, yet reading the local weather on the radio at the same time. Her face seemed to harden ever so slightly and a chill held me.

"You're from the city; what you folks get up to I neither care nor appreciate, especially when you paint folks that live in this town with the same brush."

She moved her gaze to the radio and then stood and headed for the door. I'm sure she heard me apologize; at least I hoped she did. The radio stayed on for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Annabelle and her work crew came downstairs about an hour after Katie left to announce that the area upstairs was finally habitable. I thanked each and every one of them, although it was still around midnight before I was happy enough with the shop to see what upstairs was like.

The smell of fresh air was added to by polish or bleach depending on what part of the room you were in. Both my suitcases sat by the wardrobe, ready for me to put my clothes away. As I sat on the chair and once again looked at my surroundings, I started to wonder if I really was home.

*******

For the next few days I had phone calls and walk-ins for work needing doing, or repairs on work that Hank had plugged together until he could get the parts. It was an unusual insight into a man who I never met. He may have lived the life of seclusion, but he never turned work away, was always ready to help when he could, and never left people without power.