A Surprise and A Wedding

Fred kept his apartment in town for a couple of months, just in case. But Myrtle wanted no part of it and after a while it seemed silly to be paying for an empty apartment. Despite the proximity of the cottage to Fred’s mother, Myrtle reasoned, “just because you’re living close to her, doesn’t mean you have to see her any more often. If you see her as we pass her place, just wave. If you meet her at the mail boxes, which I never have by the way, just say ‘hello,’” she instructed.

The bug-eyed building superintendent would have been pretty annoyed when Fred gave his notice and might have tried to hold him to the lease, except he wanted Fred’s apartment for a buddy of his anyway. Fred rewarded the man’s largess by offering to leave the couch behind for his buddy. The Super was agreeable. The rest of Fred’s relatively new belongings either replaced something older and worn at Myrtle’s, like the bed and the television, or went into storage at the farm, with a few unwanted things given to charity. And so Fred settled into Myrtle’s little cottage with her.

They were together for the holidays, when they paid an obligatory visit to Fred’s mother with gift in hand. This is when they learned that Cynthia was pregnant. Flora was bragging mightily that Bill was giving her a grandchild to spoil. Fred blanched at the news. They didn’t stay long, especially when they heard that Bill and Cynthia were on their way over too.

Fred and Myrtle celebrated the New Year alone together. In fact, they kept pretty much to themselves much of the time, getting used to each other and sharing their lives so completely. They even went back to driving to work together most days. Myrtle finally had a driveway put in for the extra car, which they only needed on occasion. They did visit the farm regularly and when they told Myrtle’s aunts they wanted to get married, the matter was pretty much taken out of their hands.

Fred and Myrtle were married the following August, at the very height of the growing season, at the farm. Myrtle’s aunts put on a feast of fresh produce, including fresh, garden veggies and dips, potato salad, green salad, pickles, corn on the cob, along with buffalo burgers and platters of barbecued chicken, with Horace Dilby gleefully volunteering to man the barbecue. And there were also baked goods ~ pies, quick breads and cupcakes, besides the wedding cake Mabel made for them. The feast was to die for. They rented a huge tent in case of inclement weather and put the feast in there. But the weather was beautiful, so the ceremony was held outdoors and the tent was welcome shade for enjoying the food and company.

Some of the guests arrived a couple of days early, especially those in the wedding party. Bill was to be Fred’s best man, and so they couldn’t avoid having Cynthia there too, with her new baby. The little one looked like sort of a miniature Fred, and after he saw him, Fred just kind of wandered away, muttering softly to himself, with Myrtle right behind him to comfort him. Bill didn’t seem to notice or at least care what the baby looked like. He was a proud, doting and very hands-on father, in rather stark contrast to Cynthia, who clearly wasn’t taking to motherhood with as much enthusiasm as she had to being a housewife.

The most disconcerting intrusion on the event was Flora, who kept staring at the baby, glaring at Cynthia, and scowling at Fred, repeatedly. Even Myrtle’s aunts noticed the frequency with which she did this. The day before the wedding, they stood with Flora admiring her mighty truck, then invited her to take them for a ride in it to town. They all returned a few hours later with Millie at the wheel and Myrtle guessed that they’d taken Flora to Rainy Tavern. It took both Millie and Mabel to help Flora to a spare bedroom for a nap. Then Millie found Myrtle for a chat.

“It’s interesting the number of people who cheat on their partners,” Millie began. She had Myrtle’s immediate interest, and went on. “Seems Fred’s mother had a little affair with a travelling salesman, and Bill was the result.”

Myrtle’s mouth fell open, despite herself. “So Fred and Bill.....”

“...don’t have the same father,” finished Millie. “So there is no way in hell that Bill’s baby could look even remotely like Fred, unless....”

“Oh no,” groaned Myrtle. “So she’s figured it out. What are we to do?” she fussed. “What if she pipes up at that part where the Justice says, ‘if there is anyone here who knows any reason.....’”

“It’ll be ok,” Millie assured her. “We told her what happened.” Myrtle looked surprised. “We had to, Myrtle! She’d already guessed anyway. But we assured her it was Cynthia who was the aggressor, and not Fred, and that it would spoil a lot of lives if she blabbed, which it turns out she doesn’t want to anyway, because Bill doesn’t know, either about his parentage, or....”

“Oh geez,” said Myrtle, sighing. “So now everyone knows.... except....”

“...yeah... Bill,” finished Millie again. “And Flora would be crushed if her Billy ever found out, so.....”

Myrtle could only chuckle. “Great,” she said sarcastically, “so we all have something on each other. Now, will Flora quit glaring and scowling?” she asked.

“She’s going to try, Myrtle. She wasn’t even aware she was doing it in the first place,” chuckled Millie.

Myrtle sighed again, shaking her head. She thanked her aunt for helping, then they took off in different directions to continue what they’d been doing. Flora was a little hung over at the rehearsal, but at least she was quiet and well-behaved, thought Myrtle. In fact, there was no other craziness that day, except for when Fred thought the chickens were chasing him across the barn yard. He was, however, holding a tin of chicken feed at the time, and that’s really all they wanted. Mabel rescued him. Later, they all had a little laugh at his expense, including Fred.

And so, on a lovely, sunny day in August, Fred and Myrtle became husband and wife. It was a beautiful, casual ceremony with the usual nervous groom and beaming bride. Myrtle’s Aunt Millie gave her away. Mabel didn’t want to be in the wedding party, the better to keep an eye on things, so she sat across the aisle from Flora in the parental seats where Millie soon joined her. Winn was Myrtle’s maid of honour. Bill waited in front of the gathering with Fred, seeming almost as nervous as the groom. During the beautiful and brief ceremony, it looked for a moment as if Fred might faint, but with Bill on one side and Myrtle on the other, he took a few deep breaths and was able to finish the ceremony.

Later, Myrtle ate a little too much of her aunts’ scrumptious summer feast and Fred drank just a little too much and started giggling as Mr. Grieves was holding forth to Myrtle’s aunts about what a great job Fred was doing. Bill spent only the actual ceremony without his new son in tow, clucking over him like a well-muscled mother hen. Helen and Winn were both a huge help to Myrtle’s aunts, especially carrying foods out to the tent and helping with the clean up. Dick looked a little lost, but Horace Dilby seemed to be right in his element, enjoying the food, drink, company, barbecuing, and Millie’s greenhouses all in gleeful moderation. All and all, it was a great day.

Back Together?

Myrtle was getting everything ready to just throw the Fettuccine Alfredo together once Fred got there. The table was set, the salads were made, the white wine was breathing. It got dark so early at this time of year, she could see the shadow and headlights of a car stop on her side of road across from her cottage. The front light was on, nevertheless she heard an “oof” and a thud interrupt the footsteps coming around the cottage. It was almost a minute before she heard the tap at the back door. Myrtle opened the porch door and there stood Fred, with a dirt smudge on one cheek and some dried leaves in his hair, the rest of him a little askew.

“Oh, are you all right, Fred?” she asked in alarm.

“Yeah... yeah, I guess. That root really needs to be taken out,” he observed. “I’d forgotten about it,” he sighed, almost tripping through the door. He stood inside the door, just looking at Myrtle. Slowly a smile crept across his face. “I’ve missed you, Myrtle,” he said.

Myrtle returned the smile. “I missed you too, Fred,” she said. “C’mon in,” she motioned, and turned toward the kitchen. “Brush yourself off, sit and we’ll talk while I make supper,” she said.

Fred wanted to grab Myrtle and hold her close, but he sat down at the table as he was told. All in good time, he thought.

“So, what is your news at work, Fred?” asked Myrtle, as she put some noodles into a large saucepan of boiling water and began cutting up some ham.

As Fred sipped a little wine, he told Myrtle all about how Helen put him in the conference room with a bunch of statistics and he wound up with a whole new job and a whole new long, narrow office with a “picture window” on the wall that he found at the thrift shop.

They were both chuckling along merrily when Myrtle set their supper on the table. She poured herself some wine and sat down across from Fred.

“So you’re all healed up then?” asked Myrtle as she twirled her noodles on her fork.

“Almost,” said Fred. “I mean, I’m fine, Myrtle. I really am.” He looked up as he chewed. Myrtle made a motion at her mouth, and Fred, catching on, used his napkin to wipe cream sauce off his mouth. He looked at her and smiled a funny little smile. “This is really good,” he said happily. Then he cleared his throat. “Um, those blood tests,” he continued awkwardly, “I was worried..... I mean, I thought maybe when she did that, she might have given me something.” Myrtle stopped eating and looked at him. “Anyway, all the tests came back negative. Just so you know,” he sort of muttered.

“I’m so glad you told the truth, Fred,” said Myrtle.

“So am I,” he said instantly, wondering almost immediately if that was the right thing to say. “I mean, I’m not very good at lying anyway.”

“I noticed,” smiled Myrtle. “Although, you pretend to be sick rather well.”

Fred blushed and chuckled self-consciously. “I just didn’t know what to do, Myrtle. I kinda wished I was dead for awhile there.”

This statement had Myrtle putting her utensils down and looking at him intently. “Oh Fred, that’s awful,” she sympathized. “You should know, I guess, that I told Cynthia to never, ever go near you again.”

Fred looked at her in something like amazement. “You really did that?”

Myrtle nodded and chuckled, “I told her you’re my boyfriend and to stay away.”

Fred smiled in surprise. “You did? Well, thank you,” he said, smiling even more.

The two were silent a few moments, then began talking about the freakishly mild weather as they finished their meal, and then switched to flowers when Fred noticed one carnation blossom sitting in a brandy snifter on the table between them. Myrtle put the kettle on for tea and the two finished their wine at the table.

When the tea was ready, Myrtle poured them each a mug and they moved to the living room where Myrtle put a small log in the wood stove against the descending chill. As they sipped and chatted, Fred moved closer to Myrtle. After a few minutes, he put his arm around her. She smiled up at him and moved a little closer too.

“I’m sorry, Myrtle,” he said again, apropos of nothing in particular.

“I know you are, Fred,” she said, snuggling even closer.

Fred Makes Headway

Fred’s new office was kind of a long, narrow, windowless room, but he made it work. He brought in a model ship and placed it on a shelf on the end wall to make the room seem more his own. On the same Saturday that Myrtle encountered Cynthia, Fred was walking by the thrift shop up the road from his apartment and saw a picture that was just exactly right for his new office. It was a picture of a window. He laughed out loud when he found it. He wished he could tell Myrtle that he had a “picture window” in his new office. He felt sad and frustrated that he hadn’t heard from her. He wondered if she liked the flowers and cards. At least she hadn’t called him up to tell him to stop, so he held out hope. Still, he wondered what more he should do.

The following Tuesday, Fred decided to call his doctor’s office to check on that last test result. He was getting quite anxious. He wasn’t really expecting the result to be back yet, but called on the pretext of giving them his new office extension number. To his surprise, the result was back. It was negative. Fred felt relieved, but also more anxious than ever to do something more to get Myrtle back.

That evening he picked up his phone about four times and put it back down again. He wanted to call her, but he was afraid she’d just hang up on him. Finally he guessed there was really only one way to find out, so he picked up the phone again. Myrtle answered after only one ring.

“Hi,” said Fred softly. “I... I hope it’s all right that I’m calling,” he began, not quite sure what to say.

“I guess so,” said Myrtle, sounding a little uncertain herself.

Still, she hadn’t hung up and this gave Fred courage. “Myrtle, I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m really more the one-woman man type... I really am.” Myrtle said nothing. “I don’t know why Cynthia did what she did...” he continued.

“I do,” interrupted Myrtle.

“What?” said Fred, completely taken by surprise.

“Oh, I ran into your sister-in-law. Turns out she’s trying to get pregnant and your brother is shooting blanks,” she said a little angrily.

“But.... but... I don’t wanna have a baby with her!” protested Fred.

“No, I’m sure you don't,” she said more calmly. “If it works, I think she’s planning to let Bill think he did it himself,” she said. “This Cynthia is nuts,” she added.

“Then you know...” he stuttered. “You know it wasn’t my idea. I don’t care about her, Myrtle. I only care about you,” he sort of whined.

“Thank you for the cards and flowers,” said Myrtle softly.

“Did you like them?”

“Oh yes. They’re very beautiful, Fred.”

Things were going well, so Fred took a deep breath. “When can I see you Myrtle?” he asked. Before she could answer, he went on, “I sort of got a promotion at work, and a new office, and I haven’t been able to tell anyone about it.”

“I guess you can tell me,” offered Myrtle. Then, “you’re already back at work?” she asked with evident concern. “How’s your incision healing?”

“It’s fine, Myrtle. No problems at all,” he assured her. “I’d like to see you.... talk to you in person,” he ventured.

“Ok,” she said cautiously. “Fred, why don’t you come here.... say, Friday evening? Come for supper, and we’ll talk,” she offered.

“Oh yes,” said Fred enthusiastically. “I’d love that, Myrtle. I’ll be there. Thank you,” he added softly.

Then they said goodnight, just a little awkwardly. Fred felt like whooping when he put down the phone. He was getting to see his girl again!

The rest of the week seemed to pass a little slowly for Fred who was having a hard time keeping his mind on statistics. For Myrtle, time seemed to go too fast as she debated with herself what to serve Fred for supper. She didn’t want to serve anything too plain, or anything too complex either. By Thursday she’d decided to make him Fettuccine Alfredo. It was simple, yet kind of elegant. She would serve it with salad and a little white wine, and shop for the ingredients on her way home that evening so she wouldn’t have to stop on Friday. She wasn’t sure how things were going to go between them, but at the very least, she decided she just wasn’t going to hate Fred for what had happened. Cynthia was quite clearly the aggressor and had victimized him. Maybe it just wasn’t smart to let that crazy woman ruin their relationship, she thought.

Myrtle Meets Cynthia

Thursday was also the day Myrtle got Fred’s card in the mail. She read the obviously heart-felt message with mixed feelings, then placed the card, open, on her kitchen table. She was still a little incredulous about it all, but for the first time she considered the possibility that Fred was too. She would have to give this more thought for sure, she thought.

On Saturday, Myrtle saw a florist truck drive by. A few minutes later, she saw it drive by again, only this time the driver backed up and peered through the trees at her cottage. She went out to the pathway to help him out and met him there.

“You Myrtle Waters?” he asked.

Myrtle nodded and took the large flower box from the man. She had brought two dollars with her, for a tip, just in case. She put it in the delivery man’s hand and thanked him. Inside, she opened the box to find a dozen beautiful, red roses and a card that said, “Myrtle, I really didn’t know what was happening. Please forgive me. Fred.”

She pulled a large vase out from under the sink and arranged the roses, then put them on the table next to the card. Myrtle was still uncertain about it all, yet she was sort of enjoying this. At least, she felt gratified that Fred hadn’t just given up. It was getting more and more difficult to stay angry with him. On Friday evening, Fred mailed a second card, writing in it, simply, “Please forgive me, Myrtle. Love Fred”

The next week was awfully busy for them both. Fred was settling into his new job almost full time now. His recovery time had been short, even for a man not doing a physical job, but except for the occasional twinge, he felt much better physically than he had in a long time. He had suffered through so much pain with his injury that the healing process paled by comparison, except for when the staples were removed and then that other time, with Cynthia.

He really just wanted to focus on doing this new work well, so he immersed himself in it. Helen was scrambling to find him an actual office big enough for the flip chart, a white board, a large desk, etc. In the meantime, Fred was working in the conference room where he started. It turned out that there was a back-log of data analysis waiting for him. Since Mr. Grieve’s had more or less dumped this problem on Helen, she would supervise Fred’s work. She finally had a large storage room near her office cleared out and made into an office for Fred. When Fred was moved into it, he was told it was his, and he could decorate as he wished. He realized he didn’t even have a picture of Myrtle to put up. He had pictures of his mother, but decided against that.

There was a buzz of excitement at the college as well. Students and staff alike were asked to submit depositions about Pelham’s behaviour, just in case they were needed. So there was a flurry of activity about the place all week, but it wasn’t anything negative or difficult for Myrtle. It was just sort of an air of determination and expectation in the place that kind of kept everyone on their toes. So Myrtle went through the week alternately busy with her work, thinking about Fred, and wondering what would happen next with Pelham.

Fred’s second card was in Myrtle’s mail box on the Tuesday. She opened it. Noticing that Fred had signed it “Love Fred,” she smiled and placed it on the table with the other one. The roses needed some care, so she trimmed the stems, rearranged them and changed the water, putting a little sugar in it to help keep the roses nice. Fred was definitely on her mind. She kept thinking about what her Aunt Mabel had said about losing the one man she really loved because he made a mistake. She had never asked what the mistake was. Must have been something pretty profound, she thought.

The following Saturday, a dozen carnations arrived. She arranged those as well, with the card that said simply, “Please forgive me. Love Fred.” Myrtle took care of them rather quickly though, finding a place for them in the living room. She had a little art show to attend as well as some shopping to do and was heading into town for both. The florist delivery guy had just caught her still at home. She grabbed a jacket and was headed out her road when she saw a pink convertible parked in Flora’s driveway, with a rather voluptuously done up woman next to it. She chuckled, thinking that Mary Kaye was visiting Flora of all people. But at the stop sign, she stopped longer than usual. She turned to look back, then she backed up and turned into Flora’s driveway behind the pink car.

When Myrtle climbed out the woman beside the pink car sort of moved toward her and said, “oh, honey, I’m just going out. Could you move your car?”

But Myrtle just walked right up to her. “Are you Cynthia?” she asked.

Cynthia, apparently mistaking Myrtle for a fan, giggled and said, “Oh yes, I am. But I’m on my way out, honey.”

Myrtle stared. “Did you go to Fred’s apartment and seduce him?” she demanded.

Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Shhhh... not so loud, honey. Don’t want Flo to hear,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the window facing the driveway.

“Well did you?” asked Myrtle again, even louder.

“Well yeah,” said Cynthia, in sort of a stage whisper. “Sure I did. Billy’s sperm count is low and we’re trying to have a kid. It wasn’t anything personal... just wanted to keep it in the family. I’m not much into turkey basters,” she giggled.

Myrtle just stared. “Not personal?! You seduced my boyfriend and you say it isn’t PERSONAL?!”

It was Cynthia’s turn to stare. “Oh my, shhhh,” she said, a little helplessly. “Honestly honey, I didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she offered, shrugging.

Myrtle dared to get even closer, standing on her tiptoes to get right into Cynthia’s face. “Don’t you EVER go near my man again! NOT. EVER.!!” With that, and shaking from her own nerve, Myrtle turned and got into her car, then actually burned rubber backing down Flora’s driveway.

Myrtle was most of the way to town before she recovered enough from the encounter to fully realize what she’d done. She had laid claim to Fred in no uncertain terms. Moreover, she’d discovered that Fred was telling the truth. That woman is nuts, she thought. Not personal, indeed! She really had done what Fred claimed she had. Suddenly she felt a little sorry for Fred, being bulldozed by such as woman as Cynthia. It was getting tougher and tougher to stay angry with him. But not tough at all to be furious with Cynthia.

A New Job!

Fred had already been feeling a little tired when he got to work, what with all his cleaning at home. He hoped he could focus on this new work enough to not let Helen down. He had just a twinge of self-doubt which seemed to go with a small twinge of pain in his stomach, but then buried his nose in the papers in front of him.

The company had hired a consulting firm to conduct a number of efficiency studies for them. Unfortunately the results had been presented to them pretty much as pages and pages of statistics. When the company complained about the format, the consulting firm insisted they’d done everything they’d been commissioned to do. So the company needed someone to interpret the findings in a more practical way so they could decide which of their business practices could benefit most by being changed. They also needed to know specifically what changes needed to be tried first. This was the task that was given to Fred.

The time and motion studies came first. Fred wondered if these weren’t just experiments in rushing people at their work, but once he got into them, he found them rather fascinating. They were really about finding the best way to do a thing, and then training the employees to do the task that way. He also noticed that the best methods were meant to also enhance the safety of the workers, which would ultimately save on injuries such as his, hence, saving the company considerable time and money on injury claims, as well as saving employees the inconvenience and pain of injury. This, he decided, was a good thing. And so Fred worked away at interpreting the studies into a working strategy.

At the end of his first day doing this, he was very tired. But he felt good, knowing there was something important and interesting for him to do at work. While he was doing his shopping, he noticed the greeting card section of the store. The words “I’m Sorry” stuck out somehow. He went over and had a look. He couldn’t make up his mind between three cards he liked, so he bought them all, figuring that getting Myrtle to forgive him wasn’t exactly going to be a one-card job anyway.

After unpacking his groceries and eating a simple supper of canned spaghetti right out of the can, Fred sat down at his table and composed a short note in one of the cards:

“Dearest Myrtle,
“I really am sorry for letting you down. I didn’t mean it to happen. She caught me completely off guard. Honestly Myrtle, it’s you I care about. Please don’t hate me. Fred”

He addressed it and mailed it downstairs in the building mail box. Sighing, he returned to his apartment and decided to watch some TV before bed. He was tired, but he was actually looking forward to work the next day.

And so the week went along for them both. On Thursday, Fred found out his blood tests were negative. He felt some relief, but there was still that last one out there somewhere. Still, if what Bill had told him was true, he probably didn’t have anything to worry about. He would just feel better when the results of the HIV test were in. At work, Fred took some of his work to Helen, just to make sure that what he was doing was what she wanted. A little later in the day, he was called to her office. Mr. Grieves was there.

“You’ve made Helen a very happy woman,” the man chuckled so deeply that it came out as a rumble. Fred just kind of stared nervously. Nice, he thought, not the woman he most wanted to impress, but... “Do you like this work, Fred,” Mr, Grieves was asking.

“Oh yes,” he heard himself say. “I like working with the statistics, Mr. Grieves. They ... um... sort of seem to speak to me,” he stammered, instantly wondering if this last admission was a good idea.

But Mr. Grieves only rumbled again. “So you wouldn’t mind being reassigned to this job permanently?”

Again, Fred was caught by surprise, but he went with his gut on this one. “No sir, I guess not,” he smiled. He wasn’t expecting this, but he did prefer the statistics over the shipping codes.

“Good, m’boy... that’s very good,” said the boss. He glanced at Helen who was smiling happily. “Helen has been looking for the right person for this job for some time. Not much point in commissioning studies if you don’t understand the results!” he almost shouted, then he laughed quite loudly, making Fred back up just a little. “Have you ever studied Data Analysis, Fred?”

“No sir,” said Fred, a little uncertainly. “It just seems easy to me,” he sort of squeaked.

“Well that’s fine,” said Mr. Grieves. “But we’ll be sending you to some Data Analysis courses at Upton College in the coming semester, just to cover your back, so to speak,” said the man smiling.

Upton College, thought Fred. He smiled hugely, which of course was misinterpreted by Mr. Grieves, but no matter. Fred was thrilled with what was apparently his new job, and even more thrilled that he would have an excuse to appear on campus where Myrtle worked. At least, he hoped his classes would be somehow close to where Myrtle worked.

“If it works out,” Mr. Grieves was saying, “we’ll be having you continue on with data analysis for the larger corporate interests.” Mr. Grieves leaned a little closer to Fred and lowered his deep voice just a little, “and there will be a little something extra in your pay if all goes well, Fred.” He winked.

Fred was very pleased with this news and wished he had someone to share it with.

The Curse

Myrtle squirmed in her seat, wishing she hadn’t mentioned the curse. Her aunts may not find it at all amusing. She glanced from one to the other, then took another sip of her drink. “Well... I mean... you’re both such beautiful women, but you never married. Sometimes I think I never will either,” she explained.

Both Myrtle’s aunts started to chuckle. “A curse, is it?” asked Mabel with a smile. Myrtle again just looked from one to the other. “Maybe you’re right,” continued Mabel, shrugging. “I had a love when I was younger. My, but he was a lovely fellow, or so I thought. We went along so well for a bit, but then he made a mistake and I tossed him aside. I’ve never found a man to love like that since,” she said, sadly. “But Myrtle, that was my own choice. I’ve had plenty of chances.... even Jim here,” she jerked her head toward the bar, then rolled her eyes.

Myrtle smiled thoughtfully, took another sip of her drink, then glanced briefly toward the bar, then back at her Aunt Mabel. She took another sip and turned to look at her Aunt Millie. Millie glanced at Mabel, who nodded in response.

“I had a great love too,” said Millie quietly, turning back to Myrtle. “It just wasn’t as accepted in those days as it is now.” Myrtle looked at her younger aunt with a questioning look. “Do you remember Alison Tinney?” asked Millie.

“Yes,” said Myrtle right away. “She came every Sunday on horseback, with a saddled horse behind her for you, and the two of you went riding...... Oh my.” Myrtle’s eyes widened. “You and Alison....”

Millie smiled and nodded. “It wasn’t easy to love someone your own gender in those days,” she said. “But we spent many evenings together, and went riding every Sunday.”

“I don’t remember the evenings,” pondered Myrtle.

“Of course you don’t,” laughed Millie. “We didn’t spend them with you. Do you remember that cabin in the back woods you liked to have picnics in?”

Myrtle’s eyes widened again. “You mean....”

“Yes,” said Millie softly.

“That was a cozy little place. I so loved to picnic there,” said Myrtle, who was starting to feel a little bit muddled-minded with the rum. “Where did that cabin even come from?”

“Your grandpa built it, for Alison and me,” said Millie. “He understood,” she smiled.

“What ever happened to Alison?” asked Myrtle.

“She died of breast cancer,” said Millie sadly. “She fought hard. I know what it’s like to spend a lot of time at the hospital with someone you care about.”

There was just silence for awhile, everyone sipping on their drinks. Then, “those horses...” began Myrtle.

“Her dad sold them,” said Millie. “In fact, he sold the whole farm. His wife died of breast cancer, and then so did Alison. He couldn’t care for the horses himself and really, he had no heart for their farm anymore. He moved to a retirement community in Upton.” Myrtle found herself staring a little at her Aunt Millie, who met her gaze and just smiled sadly. “I enjoyed riding,” said Millie thoughtfully. “I could have bought the horse I usually rode, but without Alison.....” She shrugged.

“Life has a knack of doing its own thing,” Mabel piped up. “But we also make some pretty important choices. I’ve wondered many times how different my life would have been if I’d had the patience and courage to accept my man for who he was, instead of being disappointed that he wasn’t the man I wanted him to be.”

Again the place seemed so silent for several moments. Myrtle was feeling a little tipsy on her third rum and Coke. She looked at her Aunt Mabel. “Sometimes, I guess we want them to be the knight in shining armour,” said Myrtle thoughtfully. “But they really aren’t, are they?”

Both aunts shook their heads. “Men are really the weaker sex,” said Mabel. “They’re really simple creatures, whose needs are pretty basic. If you lay claim to one of them, you have to look after him.”

Myrtle nodded, knocking back the rest of her drink. “I think I need a nap,” she said finally.

Rainy Tavern

“Where are we going?” asked Myrtle.

“We’re taking you to town to get you blotto,” answered Millie with a deep chuckle. Myrtle glanced at first one, then the other aunt. They were both smiling, so Myrtle thought they must be joking.

When they stopped at a seed and feed store, Myrtle thought maybe it was just a shopping excursion. But then Millie went in with a few flats of eggs and dropped them off. Then they all got back into the truck and drove a scant two blocks, parking in front of the Rainy Tavern. The two aunts just kept smiling as Millie parked the truck. They ushered Myrtle into the tap room and chose a booth.

Myrtle looked at her two aunts. “Is this where you two hang out?” she asked, a little doubtfully.

“Oh sure,” said Mabel. “We come here all the time.” She glanced at Millie, who motioned for service. An older fellow with a grey mustache, greased back hair and an ample belly sidled up to the booth and smiled, winking at Mabel.

Millie chuckled softly as Mabel gave her a warning look. Then Mabel looked up and said, “my turn to drive, so I’ll have bottled water on ice with a twist of lemon,” she said firmly. “My sister will have a shandy, and my niece will have.....” She looked at Myrtle expectantly.

“Oh, just a coke,” muttered Myrtle.

“So that’ll be a rum and Coke,” said Mabel firmly, nodding at the old gent. He smiled and turned toward the bar.

“Jim has been sweet on Mabel lo these last 15 years or so,” said Millie in sort of a stage whisper, still chuckling, distracting Myrtle from protesting the added rum to her Coke, as Mabel glared at Millie.

“I’ll go out with him when he crawls out from behind that bar and comes out to the farm to help with the chores,” said Mabel in mock annoyance.

“Won’t do him any good,” said Millie a little sternly. “No matter what work he did, the farm will go to Myrtle, not to some foolish old bartender.”

Myrtle was instantly taken aback. She hadn’t actually given any thought to what would become of the farm when her aunts could no longer keep it up, or, Heaven forbid, were gone. After she left home and moved to Upton, both her grandparents had passed, one after the other. She’d thought of the farm as her aunt’s home now. For the first time, she wondered how they were, really. “How are you two anyway?” she asked suddenly.

Mabel chuckled. “We’re fine Myrtle,” she said reassuringly. “We’re busier than ever, what with one thing and another, and we’re both in good health.”

Jim had come back and set the drinks down, then stood waiting. Mabel pulled a ten out of her purse and handed it to him. “Keep the change,” she said, a little sardonically. Jim only smiled and winked at her again, then made his way back to the bar, the tray under his arm. Millie chuckled again, as Mabel rolled her eyes.

“Anyway,” said Millie, we’re doing great. More to the point, Ms. Myrtle, how are things going with you?”

Well, Myrtle wasn’t even a little titillated yet by the rum in her Coke. She'd scarcely had a sip. But she knew when she was cornered, so she told all she was sure she hadn’t yet, and a few things she already had. She told them about how she and Fred met in a mud puddle. She told them about riding back and forth to work with him and getting to know him; about fixing up his new apartment and visiting him in the hospital.

“So then what’s the problem?” asked Mabel, gesturing for more drinks.

“Cynthia raped him,” said Myrtle, looking from one of her aunts to other.

“What?!” said Millie.

“Well, that’s what Fred told me when he got all strange and mysterious on me and didn’t seem to want me around. He said Cynthia burst into his apartment Sunday morning and had her way with him.”

"Who's Cynthia?" asked Mabel.

"His sister-in-law, a former exotic dancer who married his libidinous brother." She looked from aunt to aunt, then groaned softly. “I should have taken him home with me on Saturday,” she said sadly in self-reproach. “I wouldn’t have gotten as much done, but he wouldn’t have been alone.” Myrtle looked again at her aunts, who both still had a look of surprise on their faces. “But then,” continued Myrtle, “I shouldn’t have to watch over him every minute without worrying about who he’s banging!”

Mabel and Millie glanced at each other. Their afternoon out was having the desired effect, but even they were a little shocked by what had happened. But before they could comment or offer advice, Myrtle had more to say.

“It’s the curse!”

“What curse is that?” asked Mabel gently, looking just a little worried.

A New Car

After work, Myrtle and Winnifred each drove to a little restaurant they’d agreed on near where there were some car dealerships. They enjoyed an early supper, then Winn hopped in with Myrtle to go check out some cars. After stopping at three dealerships and kicking a few tires, Myrtle asked to test drive a little coupe. It was only a year old and was a returned lease. She thought the price was pretty good, though she hoped to make it better. She liked the size and colour and needed to get the feel of it. So off she and Winn went to get a coffee a few blocks away.

It drove like a dream and felt just right. And so Myrtle found her new car that very night. Winn kept more or less drooling over the new cars while Myrtle went into the office to bargain with the salesman. She did talk him down a bit, though the man seemed bound and determined to get hold of Fred’s car for a trade in.

“It’s not my car,” Myrtle said patiently, for the third time. “I can’t trade in a car that isn’t my own.”

“Oh yeah... that’s right... you said,” chuckled the salesman, who couldn’t seem to remember this important fact. Either that, or he thought he could change her mind and get her to also change her story. Myrtle just gave her head a little shake, then made arrangements for him to put plates on the car. She would call Elaine and her insurance company on Tuesday to take care of the payment and make sure the new car was insured. She’d pick up the car as soon as she could, once everything was looked after and the car was ready.

Much relieved that she’d found what she wanted, she drove Winn back to her car in the restaurant parking lot and thanked her for coming with her. The two friends parted then, and Myrtle headed for home.

Fred meanwhile, was spreading peanut butter on his third piece of toast. He decided he’d try to rest after this one. He needed to sleep. He really, really needed to sleep, he thought. He decided on a glass of milk to go with his toast, instead of any more coffee or Coke. He was out of Coke anyway. It was a good thing Myrtle had just shopped for him, but she'd only brought one bottle of Coke. Anyway, he knew it wasn't exactly helping him get to sleep and he just had to get some rest somehow. Fred hadn’t changed his clothes, washed or taken a walk, other than pacing the apartment, since his shower. But he wasn't about to do any of those things until he got some rest. After his milk and toast, he went to lie down on his bed. He pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes.

When she got home, Myrtle thought she might call Fred to check on him and wish him good night, but it occurred to her that he might be sleeping and she didn’t want to disturb him. Best to just wait till tomorrow, she thought, when he was expecting her call. She sighed deeply. After all the time spent with Fred, and looking after him, he suddenly didn’t want her around. Her instincts told her that something was very wrong, but she had no way of knowing what. She sighed again, then busied herself with a few household chores that had been neglected. Then she got ready for bed.

Wednesday morning saw Myrtle trying to catch up on her work at the office. She wanted everything caught up before taking Thursday afternoon off. She had a foreboding feeling the whole time, but didn’t know if something was about to go wrong at work again, or in her private life. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

At the same time, Fred was snoring loudly on his bed. He woke himself up with his own noise. He checked the time and slowly sat up. At least he’d gotten some sleep, he thought. And if he had bad dreams, he didn’t remember them. He stumbled toward the bathroom and got a look at himself in the bathroom mirror. Ick, he thought. He looked horrible. He sighed. Best to get cleaned up, he thought. He had that appointment the next day. At least, he thought it was the next day. He should focus on being ready for it.

But Fred just didn’t have the ambition to take another shower and shave. He had a wash and combed his hair, then put on a fresh shirt. It was an improvement and would have been a lot more impressive if he hadn’t then gone to the kitchen to make more coffee and get himself something to eat. Fred’s culinary abilities didn’t involve a lot of sophisticated food. Both his tastes and his cooking skills were pretty basic. He also wasn’t eating because he was hungry, so much as for something to do. As a result, one might think he was throwing food around pretty liberally in the kitchen to look at his clothing. It would have been better if he’d sat at the table to eat, but he just couldn’t seem to sit still long enough. He wound up pacing around the living room with his food, which did nothing for the carpet, or his clothing.

Myrtle called him again after lunch to check on him. Fred once again did his best to sound stuffed up. Putting things off was still the only thing he could think to do. Yet he knew he’d be seeing Myrtle on Thursday afternoon. He wished he had someone to talk to about it. He wasn’t all that experienced with women and could really have used some advice. Fred sighed deeply. Ordinarily he might have confided in his brother, Bill. But clearly, that was out. Even if he didn’t identify the woman he'd had sex with, he knew it might slip out. He wasn’t going to take that chance. His mother would only give him a rough time. The guys he went out with from time to time would only make fun of him. Dexter might have helped him out, but he was dead. There was no one, he thought, other than Myrtle. He was on his own with this, at least until he saw his doctor. Maybe he would say something reassuring and helpful.

Myrtle just shook her head after her call with Fred. He sounded sick, and yet he also sounded scared. She tried to shrug it off. She’d just have to wait until she saw him tomorrow. She turned back to her work.

Myrtle in Gear

Myrtle’s first call was to her personal banker. She frankly couldn’t remember if she’d told Elaine about her accident. She’d made a few calls after she was released from hospital, but couldn’t recall talking to Elaine. She guessed she hadn’t had any reason to talk to her banker. So when she got through to Elaine, Myrtle filled her in. When Elaine started to sympathize, she assured her that everything was all right now, but she had no car.

“The insurance company wanted to settle,” said Myrtle, “but I wouldn’t until I knew if my eye was going to be all right. They haven’t called back,” she said.

“I know a good personal injury lawyer you could contact,” said Elaine. “I wouldn’t accept a settlement without one these days. I'll give you his number,” she offered.

Myrtle was very relieved. She’d thought she might need a lawyer, but didn’t know where to begin with that. She was just as worried about getting ripped off by a lawyer as by the insurance company, so she was grateful for Elaine’s help.

“That’s great, thanks,” she said. “Thing is though, I still need a car in the meantime. I was thinking just to buy one and insist on a cash settlement from the insurance company,” she said hopefully. “That’s where you come in.”

As soon as Elaine was assured that Myrtle was still working at the same place, there was no problem. Elaine suggested that Myrtle not buy anything too big or fancy, but she was certainly good for a car loan with no problem.

“If the dealership you choose has some sort of financing deal on, don’t sign on until you call me first, ok?” said Elaine.

Myrtle agreed. Elaine had always been very helpful when Myrtle needed financial guidance, so she’d certainly prefer to deal with her anyway. Assured that a car loan was no problem, Myrtle looked forward to car shopping. She called Winnifred and asked her if she wanted to come with her. So it was settled, the two would grab a bite out after work and then do the rounds of the local car dealerships to see what they had to offer. Myrtle wondered briefly why she’d put this off so long, and then she remembered Fred. Yeah, she thought, she’d been a little busy. This was a good chance to get some stuff done, she thought, with a bit of a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

After checking again to see if anyone was headed her way in need of anything, Myrtle picked up the phone again and called the office of the lawyer Elaine had suggested. She filled the receptionist in on what it was about and was given a time to call back. Dan Milburn was with a client at that moment, but he preferred to chat with potential clients on the phone before having them come to see him. That was fine with Myrtle, so she made a note of the time and decided to get some actual work done while waiting.

She was well into some typing when Dick strolled in. He seemed a little fitful.

“Those two fellas we hired,” he began. He had Myrtle’s instant attention. “They both showed up to do the same class,” he fretted.

“Did they get mixed up?” asked Myrtle.

“I don’t think so,” said Dick. “I think they decided to cover it together. But we don’t have to pay them more to do that, do we?”

Myrtle sighed in relief. “No, Dick. You have a contract with them to each take half the teaching responsibilities. It doesn’t matter how they do it. If they’re both there, then they’re sort of each taking half the class.”

Dick looked confused and uncertain. “But.... but...”

“Honestly Dick,” Myrtle assured him. “It doesn’t matter which way they take half the classes. If it helps them to both be there, it doesn’t cost you anything more. You just pay them according to the contract they signed.”

Dick seemed relieved, although somehow still uncertain at the same time. Before he could wander away, Myrtle asked him for Thursday afternoon off.

“Ok,” he said. “How long will you be gone?”

“All afternoon, Dick,” said Myrtle, patiently.

“Oh. Well, yeah... that’s ok,” he nodded, then he sort of wandered away.

At least, thought Myrtle, her asking for an afternoon off may have distracted him from worrying about the two young fellows teaching Pelham’s course. She hoped nothing was going to go wrong there. If it did, she could only hope that she wasn’t blamed for it again.

When he was gone, Myrtle checked the clock. It was almost time to make her call.

Dan Milburn listened as Myrtle told him about the accident, about the offer the insurance company made, about her eye, and that she seemed to be fine now. At least, her injuries had healed and she had good vision in the injured eye. He got the pertinent facts from her, like the name of the other driver, the name of his insurance company, and hers, and her doctor’s name. Then he made an appointment with her for 6:30 Wednesday evening.

“Most of my clients have jobs,” he explained. “I work funny hours,” he chuckled.

It sounded great to Myrtle, who really didn’t want to ask for more time off. Somehow, making that appointment with the lawyer lifted a huge weight from Myrtle. She guessed she’d been worrying about all this somewhere in the back of her mind, even though she’d been too preoccupied to really give it a lot of conscious thought. She was looking forward to getting everything looked after, and putting the accident and everything associated with it behind her.

Wired!

Fred, meanwhile, turned on the coffee and ate his sandwich, then paced the apartment nervously, trying to figure out what to do. He blamed this all on Cynthia. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was thinking of when she did this. At the same time, he knew Myrtle wouldn’t hold him blameless. Even in his foggy state, he could have pushed Cynthia away, he chided himself.

He tried to reason with himself that he and Myrtle weren’t attached yet, that they had no formal “arrangement” like an engagement. But then he’d just stop pacing and give his head a shake. Fred was no playboy. Myrtle was his girl friend. She’d done a lot for him already and she deserved better than this. Both of them knew where things were headed. Fred just couldn’t be more ashamed of himself.

At least he got his exercise, pacing the apartment constantly the way he was. The coffee he’d poured got cold, and he guzzled it back that way when he tried to distract himself with the TV. But Sunday afternoon television wasn’t enough to keep him off his feet. Hundreds of channels and it was a choice between The Littlest Hobo and Super Dave, he thought. Or a chick flick. He moaned out loud.

He opened a can of beans when he felt hungry again, eating them right out of the can and slopping some on his sweatshirt. He just kept drinking coffee until it was gone, then he opened a large bottle of Coke and started in on that. As the day progressed, he slowly got wired on caffeine and stress. By bed time, he was sitting on the other end of the couch watching a very bad old movie in an effort to “get sleepy,” but it wasn’t working. In fact, Fred didn’t sleep at all till about four in the morning, and then he had a bad dream about Myrtle being washed away in a fast stream even as he was reaching for her. This snapped him awake in a cold sweat. He went back to the TV to see what was on.

At 7 a.m., he made another pot of coffee and stuck his head in the fridge to see what there was to eat. He decided to make himself a fried egg sandwich, only this time, he thought, he’d put more oil in the pan, in case he had to wash it himself. What with eating it as he paced, this added more greasy stains to the sweatshirt he was still wearing.

He called his doctor’s office later in the morning to make an appointment. He wanted those tests as soon as possible. He asked to be squeezed in for an urgent appointment and was told the earliest the doctor could see him was Thursday afternoon. Thursday seemed a long time to wait, but then it occurred to Fred that Myrtle had his car and he wasn’t sure how else he’d get downtown to his doctor’s office. He didn’t know the transit routes. He figured he might have to take a cab. Whatever it took, he decided. So he booked the appointment.

Then he went back to pacing, trying to figure out what he was going to tell Myrtle. When she called up after lunch to see how he was doing, Fred did his level best to sound ill.

“Don’d cub, Myrdle,” he moaned. “I’b too sig,” he said, trying to sound really stuffed up. “You’ll catch it,” he added.

“Oh Fred, you sound really awful,” she sympathized. “Honestly dear, I don’t mind coming over to make sure you have everything you need. I’ve been taking my vitamins,” she assured him.

“Id’s ok,” he said. “I’ll just rest, Myrdle.”

“Do you have cough medicine?” she asked. “I could bring you some,” she offered.

“No, no,” insisted Fred, feeling a little panicky. “I hab tea... and honey. I’ll be fide, honest. I hab a doctor appointment on Thursday,” he said, instantly wishing he hadn’t mentioned that.

“What time?” asked Myrtle.

“Oh... 2 p.m. But I can just take a cab, Myrdle,” he said quickly.

“Oh no, now I won’t hear of that, Fred,” she admonished him. “I’m sure I can get the afternoon off. I’ll come get you and take you to your appointment for sure. You just be ready,” she instructed. Before Fred could argue, she added, “and I’ll call tomorrow and Wednesday to check on you, just in case there’s anything you need, or if, hopefully, you’re feeling a bit better and you’ll let me come over and check on you,” she said sweetly, but with just a hint of annoyance.

“Oh...... ok... sure,” mumbled Fred. “Ok then, talk to you tomorrow,” he said quickly, thinking he’d best just get off the phone with her.

“Till tomorrow, sweety,” she said.

Fred hung up quickly. Myrtle noticed, and sat staring at the receiver in her hand for a few seconds. Then she shrugged and hung up the phone. But the call had left her with a most disquieting feeling. She decided it was time to take care of a little bit of her own business. She glanced around to make sure there was no one headed her way that she could see. Then, with her work folder open in front of her, she pulled a little book of business cards out of her purse.

What To Do, What To Do?

Fred had a loose pair of sweat pants that he could wear without hurting his incision. He wore these for their walks and he put them on again after his shower. He was feeling as if hanging around his apartment in just his shorts and a robe wasn’t a good idea. He also put on a clean sweat shirt that didn’t exactly go with the pants. When Myrtle arrived a while later, she noticed Fred’s choice of clothing right away, and that he’d washed his hair. She wasn’t all that sure the outfit was an improvement on the robe, but it looked as if he was trying to get better. Still, she wondered if he was rushing it.

“You took a shower?” she asked, in a bit of an admonishing tone. She carried two bags of groceries into the kitchen and began putting things away.

Fred just shrugged. “Really wanted one,” he said quietly. “My hair... my hair ... I really wanted to wash it. Scalp was itchy.”

That’s when Myrtle also noticed that something was wrong. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, Fred just seemed subdued somehow. When she glanced at him, he seemed intent on staring at his toes. Fred wasn’t sure what to do. Part of him wanted to tell her what had happened, and most of him didn’t.

The thing was, before marrying his brother, Cynthia was probably the loosest woman in town. He had no way of knowing what STDs she was carrying around. Added to that, she had married Bill, who was possibly the loosest man in town. Fred had no idea if either of them took precautions or had ever been tested. Up until this moment, it just wasn’t something it would have occurred to Fred to worry about. And it wasn’t as if he could just suddenly ask Bill out of the blue. Even if he could have, Fred wasn't at all sure he could rely on him to be truthful about such a thing. And Fred didn’t ever want to hear from Cynthia again. He had thought about this all through his shower. He was going to have to be medically tested for STDs before anything could happen with Myrtle. And he just felt so guilty.

“Are you ok, Fred? asked Myrtle.

“Oh, I’m just not feeling real well today, Myrtle,” he smiled, a little sheepishly. Perhaps if he feigned illness, it would buy him some time, he thought.

Myrtle approached him and held up her hand as if to touch his forehead, but he sort of ducked away.

“Don’t.... don’t come too close, Myrtle. I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t want you to get sick too,” he said, again smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s too bad, Fred,” she said sympathetically. And yet, something didn’t seem right. Fred looked guilty. People don’t usually look guilty just for catching a virus, she thought. But she let it go. Maybe he just felt bad about it.

“Well, I brought us some lunch,” she pointed to a couple of deli sandwiches on the counter, a bottle of iced tea and some salads and gave Fred a questioning look.

The food looked good and Fred was famished. He never had gotten to his breakfast. But it just wasn’t going to work, to gobble down food after saying he didn’t feel well, he thought. “Yeah.... I don’t feel much like eating right now, Myrtle,” he lied, wondering if she’d at least leave some of the food behind for him.

“All right Fred,” she said, nodding. “I’ll just leave a sandwich here in case you feel more like it later. I’ll take the rest with me and head back home,” she said, in a slightly disappointed voice, as she put one of the sandwiches and the iced tea in his fridge, then packed the rest of the food back into a bag.

“I’m sorry, Myrtle,” said Fred in a very quiet, but sincere voice.

“Oh... it’s ok, sweety,” she comforted him, wanting to get closer to give him a little squeeze, but again, he sort of backed away. “I’ve been meaning to call my aunts and just don’t get to it,” she said. “I’ll just head for home and do that. Would you like me to make up your coffee ready to turn on first?” she asked

Fred sort of gasped. He hadn’t actually gotten as far as turning on what was already there. But he recovered quickly. “I... I didn’t use what was there, so I’m fine,” he shrugged, trying to be casual. “I didn’t feel like coffee this morning,” he lied again, feeling calmer. At least it made his story about not feeling well look more convincing, he thought.

It felt to Myrtle as if he just wanted her to go. “Ok, I’ll get going then. I’ll call you from work tomorrow to see how you are before I come over, ok?”

“Ok,” he nodded.

With that, Myrtle opened the door, gave him a little smile, and left. Something sure didn’t feel right, she thought. Fred was more the kind of guy who’d want her to baby and fuss over him if he was sick. Something just wasn’t right, she thought again. Nevertheless, she really wanted to believe he just wasn’t feeling well and wanted to sleep or something. So she headed for home.

Once there, Myrtle set her lunch out on her little table and sat down to enjoy it, making her own iced tea. It was awfully quiet, so she put on the radio while she ate. It seemed kind of strange to be eating alone, but at least the sandwich and salads were really good. She wondered if she should have left some of the salads for Fred too, but since he wasn’t feeling well.... Her thoughts drifted away with the soft rock music.

After her lunch, Myrtle did indeed call her aunts and spent longer than usual chatting with them both. She chatted for a bit about Fred, but she also wanted to talk to someone about what was happening at her job. She meant to call her aunts more often, and felt a little guilty about not keeping in touch more. After all, they had raised her from a young age, after her parents died, and her Aunt Millie had been kind enough to stay with her for a couple of days after her accident. Once Millie was satisfied that Myrtle was able to look after herself and that she was fairly well supplied with food, she had to get back to the farm. She had wanted to take Myrtle with her, but Myrtle insisted she’d be fine in her little house. She didn’t want to be a bother and she was comfy here. Millie and her sister, Mabel, no longer planted on the land. They rented it out to an organic grower. But Millie ran a greenhouse business there which supplied some nurseries in the area with young plants, as well as some restaurants with fresh herbs, so she just couldn’t be away for very long at once. Mabel had stayed home to look after the animals, and would look in on the greenhouse, but she couldn’t look after everything for any length of time.

After a lovely chat with her aunts, Myrtle curled up on the couch with her book, and tried to pick up where she left off. She didn’t bother with a fire this day, because the weather had turned much milder. In fact, it was a beautiful day out. It would have been a great day for an enjoyable walk with Fred, she thought sadly. Then she put her book down and got up. No reason she couldn’t go for a nice walk herself, she decided. Her book would be there when she got back.

Oh Fred ~ Oh No!

Fred was surprised to hear the little tap at the door the next morning. It was early and Myrtle had said she was going to shop. Anyway, he thought, she had a key. Maybe she forgot it, he thought, as he went to the door. He was caught completely off guard when he saw Cynthia standing there.

“Hi Freddy,” she said, sort of whispering, as she gave him a little wave. Before he could say anything, “oh honey, I just heard about your operation,” she said, sort of pushing her way in. She reached up and gently ran her fingers down Fred’s cheek. “You poor thing. Are you all right now, Freddy?”

Fred stepped back, completely shocked to see his brother’s wife. They scarcely knew each other. He couldn’t imagine what she wanted. “Um... yeah... sure... I’m ok, I guess,” he stammered.

“Oh that’s good, hun,” she breathed as she sort of steered Fred backwards farther into the living room. In what appeared to be fancy, high-heeled slippers, Cynthia was easily as tall as Fred, and much more buxom of course, so when she sort of pushed him, he felt he had little choice but to yield and back up.

“Um.... I’m actually supposed to be getting my breakfast,” he mumbled, hoping Cynthia would take the hint and go away. But she didn’t.

“Poor Freddy,” she sort of half whispered and half moaned. “I bet your tummy still hurts.” With that she undid the tie of Fred’s robe with one flip of her hand and gently, yet firmly pushed his robe back over his shoulders till it fell to the floor. Fred just wasn’t quite quick enough to catch it and hang onto it. Then he very nearly tripped over it trying to get away from Cynthia. But she had kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress off over her head, and stood quite naked in front of Fred. He stood, mouth open, frozen in shock and awe.

Cynthia knelt down in front of Fred, her face at about the same level as his incision. A hand on each side of his shorts, she leaned in and placed a few gentle kisses near the incision, moaning, “poor, poor Freddy.” Quite suddenly she pulled his shorts down. “Oh Freddy,” she breathed. “I have to have you,” she moaned, her cheek brushing against him.

Fred couldn’t believe what was happening. It couldn’t be real. But despite his panic, he couldn’t help his arousal. He was surprised, but strangely thrilled when her luscious, eager lips surrounded his budding erection, and her tongue played with it. Then he felt Cynthia’s fingers sort of climbing up his ribs with a feathery touch, then her lips retracing the same path with moist, little kisses, her hot breath playing across his skin as she slowly rose, her one hand holding him firmly so he couldn’t back away.

“You know Freddy, you’re better endowed than Billy. Such a surprise,” she giggled gleefully.

As Fred slowly digested this tidbit of information through his very foggy brain, he was certain he was having a dream. A wet dream, obviously. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. Cynthia was standing with her ample breasts pressing against his chest, her face close to his as her other hand softly encouraged his now pulsing erection. Then her lips were on his and her tongue was in his mouth, pushing against his. Fred responded despite himself, but he jumped as Cynthia’s tongue found a tender tooth he hadn’t had fixed yet. He groaned and pulled away.

“Oh poor Freddy,” Cynthia sympathized in ardent tones, mistaking the reason for his groan. “You should sit down, baby. C’mon.” With that she sort of danced Fred over to the couch with shuffling steps, his shorts still around his ankles. She pushed him down onto the couch and Fred watched in confused fascination as Cynthia mounted him. He couldn’t help responding as she settled over him and guided his erection into the soft, moist folds between her legs.

“Oh Freddy,” she said again as she moved rhythmically against him, her firm breasts with their huge, hardened nipples undulating almost right in front of his face. He began to breathe heavily, getting into the moment even as he contemplated being smothered by Cynthia’s breasts. Really not a bad way to go, he thought vacantly.

Fred’s hands somehow found Cynthia’s smooth, round bottom as she leaned in and planted moist, hot kisses on his forehead. He was vaguely aware of pain. He was sure his incision would explode and the skin on his buttocks was being rubbed away on the scratchy new material of the couch. He just somehow didn’t care at that moment. He couldn’t help himself... it was too late. He moved in sync with Cynthia, pulling her against him with a fervour almost equal to her own.

“Oh Freddy,” she moaned. “Oh Freddy,” she moaned more loudly, the long fingernails of one hand digging into his shoulder. “Oh God.....”

Strangely, Fred didn’t mind all the pain at all. It was really rather exquisite and he figured, almost cheerfully at this point, that he was going to die anyway. As his breathing became heavier, he pulled her toward him and thrust himself upward against her with newfound strength. Then the whole world fell away and nothing at all mattered anymore. His head fell back onto the back of the couch as he held himself hard against Cynthia for a moment more, then collapsed and just went quite limp.

Cynthia’s deep chuckle seemed a world away as she kissed him lightly on the chin and stood up. She disappeared for a few minutes, while Fred became vaguely aware that he was still alive. Then she strolled back into the living room, picked up her dress and put it on, and slipped into her shoes. Fred just stared.

“Oh Freddy,” she said, waving at him again, “that was great. But I gotta run, ok? I sure hope you feel better soon, honey.” With that, she sort of tiptoed to the door and let herself out.

Fred sat on his couch numb with shock. Had Cynthia really just seduced him? Or was he in a fever-induced delirium or something? It must have been a dream, he thought. Why, he wondered, would she do such a thing? Must be a dream, he thought again. He hoped Myrtle would get there soon and wake him up. Then his eyes widened. Myrtle! If this really had happened, what was he going to tell Myrtle?! He looked down, quite expecting to see his incision burst and his guts spilled out all over everywhere. But, except for the pain, he was apparently fine. He struggled to get up. He wanted to wash. He decided to have his first shower since getting out of the hospital. He wasn’t really supposed to yet, but he really, really wanted one.

Stresses, Heros and Monotones

Myrtle was exhausted by the time she arrived at Fred’s that evening. There was food there she had planned to cook for them, but she stopped at the Chicken Hut instead and brought in chicken, fries and coleslaw for their supper. She was a little torn between eating supper or just going straight to a nervous breakdown.

Fred, of course, had no real appreciation of what she was going through at work and Myrtle wasn't ready to talk about it. And Fred was just as happy with Chicken Hut chicken as with a home-cooked meal anyway. It really didn’t matter to Fred, as long as he had supper. Although, after eating waffles for breakfast and peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch, he was in no danger of starving. Once again, he’d only just finished his wash when Myrtle arrived with the supper. They ate in silence, except for lip-smacking and other foody noises from Fred intended to demonstrate his appreciation. Myrtle was careful to just have a Brio with her supper. She wanted very much to sleep in her own bed that night.

After supper she encouraged Fred to come with her for a little walk again. It was exercise for Fred, but did Myrtle a world of good as well, just strolling slowly arm-in-arm with Fred in the crisp autumn air, relaxing and breathing slowly as they walked. It was probably the quietest evening the two had spent together. Myrtle just didn’t feel like talking, and Fred seemed quite content to just go with whatever Myrtle wanted. And yet there was no discomfort or awkwardness. They just strolled along together to the corner, then turned and strolled back to Fred’s apartment.

When they got back, Myrtle told Fred she’d had a rather exhausting day at the office and really needed to have an early night. He had a queasy moment of uncertainty, but then she smiled so sweetly at him that it went right away. He leaned toward her and kissed her most ardently and she returned it. But then she pulled away, just a little ahead of him. She was tired; he still wasn’t ready to follow through. They smiled at each other.

“Will you be all right, Fred?” she asked.

“I’ll manage, Myrtle. I know where everything is now,” he assured her. “You go home and get some rest. See you tomorrow?”

“Right after work,” she assured him.

The two exchanged one more hug, then Myrtle left. Fred made himself comfortable on his couch and picked up the TV remote. Myrtle drove home, rehashing her day on the way. At least, she thought, that would keep her awake till she got home. Once there, she lit a fire in the stove, grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch for what was to be just a little while. She fell asleep there. Sometime during the night, Myrtle awoke and realized she wasn’t in her bed, so she put another log on the fire and went to snuggle in properly.

In the morning Myrtle awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time. She adjusted the electric heat again, as usual, since she would not be home to keep the fire going, and she got ready for work at a more relaxed pace and wondered what to have for breakfast. Over a poached egg with toast and a fresh coffee, she fervently hoped that this day would be a quieter one at work.

She was in luck. It seemed, for the moment anyway, that all the drama had quieted and she could just get on with her work. Her perspective on only one thing had drastically changed: Professor Dilby could come into her office any time and ask her for almost anything, and she would simply do her level best to see that he got it. She hoped that pretty much everyone else would just stay away from her door... for the rest of week if possible.

Thursday was also a quiet day at work, giving Myrtle ample time to reflect on the lingering kisses she’d shared with Fred before leaving his apartment the previous day. She left work early on this day to take Fred to the hospital to have his staples removed. It went fairly well, at least, from her perspective. She had sort of entertained the idea of just stopping at a fast food restaurant for supper on the way back to Fred’s. But he exited the hospital examination room moaning in pain and squirming so, Myrtle felt it best just to take him home. There was no walk that evening. Myrtle just made supper and gave Fred some pain-killers for dessert. He apologized profusely for being such a big baby about it, but insisted that the doctor was less than gentle and his belly really hurt. Myrtle told him just as repeatedly that it was ok. She needed another good night of rest anyway. She encouraged Fred to just turn in early and she would leave and do the same.

Friday passed quietly, in almost monotonous sameness, except it was raining out, so Myrtle couldn’t convince Fred to go for his walk that day either, not even by reminding him that they met whilst walking in the rain. She suggested that they do some stretching exercises instead, but Fred made the excuse that his stomach still hurt and he just wanted to play some cards together. And so they did, until Myrtle left for home, parting, as had become their custom, with hugs and kisses at Fred’s door.

Myrtle showed up Saturday morning with donuts and they had breakfast together, then ventured outside finally for a walk in the cool, grey day. They got farther than the corner this time, but not much. When they got back, Myrtle busied herself cleaning Fred’s apartment and making lunch, while Fred snoozed on the couch. But on this day, Myrtle was not planning to stay all day. She pointed out the leftovers in the fridge just to make supper easy for Fred, but he’d have to have it alone.

“I have to get some cleaning done at home while there’s still some daylight,” she explained. “There’s quite a gaggle of dust bunnies partying under my couch,” she said with a little laugh. “I want to at least scatter them before beginning another week of being away from home.”

Fred understood. After all, Myrtle had been spending most of her time at his place. Later, in retrospect, Myrtle wished she’d invited Fred to come home with her and spend that night at her place. But she wasn’t sure he was ready for that and didn’t want to scare him or seem demanding. She thought they were building toward something very meaningful and was willing to be patient. So she told Fred she’d be back in the morning, but would be a bit late for breakfast, since she wanted to pick up a few groceries for them both. She paused, wondering if Fred would want to come shopping with her, but he didn’t ask to, so she just assured him she’d be there in plenty of time for lunch. She thought they could spend the afternoon together and maybe, if the weather wasn’t too bad, they might try to get a little farther on their walk. After an ardent kiss and a lingering hug, she left him standing there, in his robe, and went home.

The OK Corral?

Fred, meanwhile, had decided on toast and eggs for breakfast, and though he burned himself twice ~ once on the frying pan, and once again on the coffee pot, and had a terrible time getting the eggs out of pan, mostly because he hadn’t oiled it enough, his breakfast was quite good. He decided that real butter melted into hot toast was so much better than whatever they put on the toast at the hospital, no matter what was served with it. After eating, he left the pan soaking in the sink, rather hoping Myrtle would get the thing clean when she came to make supper.

He spent much of the day watching daytime television and wound up getting rather passionate about the shortage of homes for stray cats, not only in the city, but also in more rural towns such as his. He comforted himself with peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch, with a big glass of milk, then took solace in an afternoon nap that pretty much consumed his day. He had only just had his wash when he heard Myrtle’s key in the door.

As luck would have it, after a rather harrowing and surprising day at the office, Myrtle went at that pan with something of vengeance when she got there. Then she cooked them a lovely spaghetti dinner as she pondered whether or not to tell Fred about what happened with Mr. Pelham and Professor Dilby in her office. They enjoyed a lovely supper, and after a couple of glasses of red wine, Myrtle divulged all. Whereupon, lips loosened by a combination of light pain-killers and red wine, Fred confided his continued worry over the visit in his hospital room from Mr. Grieves.

“Did he say anything about your job to worry you?” asked Myrtle in concern.

“No, nothing direct,” he answered slowly. “It... it’s just that he was being so darned nice,” explained Fred. “It just seemed so odd somehow.”

Myrtle wasn’t sure what to say, except to be reassuring. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” she said. “Why don’t we go for a little walk?” she suggested.

And so they did, getting just to the corner again, to get Fred his exercise. Myrtle knew she should go home early because she was really tired, but after the wine, she wasn’t sure she should drive. So when they came in from their walk, Myrtle made tea and they talked some more. When they looked up at the clock on the stove, it was really late and Myrtle decided that fatigue and wine was a bad combination to drive on, so she helped Fred get ready for bed, then made herself a temporary bed on his new couch. She borrowed Fred’s clock radio and set it to get up very early so she could go home to shower and change before work. It was really nice to have someone to talk to and spend time with, but this was getting a bit awkward, she thought. However, she was really tired and just wanted to sleep, so she decided to think about it tomorrow.

If getting ready for work on Monday was hectic and rushed for Myrtle, it was more so on Tuesday. She left the coffee maker ready to just turn on for Fred, and rushed out the door to her little home in the woods. There she showered, dressed and grabbed another protein bar. Myrtle knew that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and wasn’t exactly happy with the way things were working out. She hoped for a relaxing day at the office so she could give things more thought and figure out a better way to manage this relationship and its demands, in concert with her other responsibilities.

Alas, when she arrived at her office, a few scant minutes late, there was Mr. Pelham again, in her office, quite caught up in a heated argument with Dick. It actually turned out to be a good thing Myrtle was late, because Pelham had returned to berate her some more for his misfortune. Dick just got there first. After a long, drawn out hearing the previous day, he had been dismissed from the teaching staff of the college for verbally abusing his students and shirking his responsibilities. Several students had gone there to have their say, yet Pelham was still apparently determined to blame Myrtle for everything. He was now yelling threats at Dick that he would sue for wrongful dismissal.

Myrtle was just plain fed up with being blamed for the whole thing by both the Dean and Pelham. All she’d done was offer comfort to some upset students and a few words of advice and warning to Mr. Pelham. So much for being the voice of reason, she huffed at herself. Dick was standing up for her, arguing to Pelham that he was the author of his own undoing. As the whole scene played out, there were several students gathering around the door of the office, listening to the argument with interest, and amusement.

Myrtle really just wanted to drink her coffee and do her work, but here she was, first thing, on nothing but a protein bar, having to deal with this Gunfight at the OK Corral. Beyond annoying, she thought. Why didn't this crazy man just go away? Both Dick and Pelham glanced her way a couple of times, and the students behind her edged closer, watching. Pelham, red faced from arguing with Dick, turned a scathing glare on Myrtle, while Dick only sighed, a little pathetically. Myrtle wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She looked around at the little gathering of mostly grinning students and wanted to laugh, once more, a little hysterically. Finally she put her coffee down on her desk, took a deep breath, put her hands on her hips and glared back at Pelham.

“I have had enough of you!” she declared. “You have insulted your students and blamed anyone but yourself for your own foolishness. You and you alone are to blame for what has happened to you. You get out of my office now, and you never, ever come back, or I’ll call the police,” she yelled. Then she cleared her throat and lowered her voice to an angry growl. “I’m not talking college security either, mister. I’m talking the cops. If you think you have troubles now, you don’t have much imagination!”

As she finished there was a smattering of applause amongst the students, and the look on Pelham’s face turned to surprise, then indignation. Then his eyes suddenly widened in fear, which surprised Myrtle, until she turned and saw that Professor Dilby had entered her office again. In fact, he stood very near her, his gaze obviously directed at Pelham. Even Dick backed away as Professor Dilby approached the unfortunate man. In fact, because Dick was behind him, there was nowhere for Pelham to back up. Professor Dilby walked right up to him and leaned into his face.

“I thought I told you to get out,” he said quietly.

Again Myrtle could not see Professor Dilby’s face, but she could see Pelham’s, and he looked quite terrified. In fact, Dick’s eyes were very wide as well. Once again Pelham squirmed around the venerable professor, then made his way through the gaggle of students, which they did not make easy, jostling him back and forth and laughing the while. Professor Dilby followed Pelham’s retreat, and only then did Myrtle get a glimpse of the deep darkness in the professor's eyes. If she was impressed by his saving her before, she was all the more so now. She had thought him a harmless, addled old man, but clearly this was someone it wouldn’t pay to cross. Myrtle was tempted to back off herself, but once Pelham had exited her office, Professor Dilby stood up tall, took a deep breath, and turned a most kindly gaze upon her. She frankly could have fainted. But she only smiled at the professor and made her way to her office chair.

By now her coffee had gotten a little cold, but she pulled the lid off it and took a deep drink. When she looked up, the professor had turned a funny little smile on the students that had them nodding and departing her office. Even Dick just sort of nodded in their general direction and toddled off. She had wanted to thank him, but the only one left in her office besides herself, was the kindly professor, smiling down at her.

“Myrtle, would you have a pencil I could have?” he asked.