Mary And Alvin Ch 06

Bonnie's Bed

The rain that chased Alvin and Mary across the bay on Sunday lingered into the week. When Mary got out of her car in the gravel parking lot at Faulkner's Wharf on Wednesday afternoon, she had to dash through a watery maze to get to the office door. She stepped inside and saw a tall, wiry woman sitting at the desk. The woman looked up at her, one eyebrow cocked.

"Something I can help you with, dearie?"

"Hi," Mary said, "is Alvin here?"

The woman looked Mary up and down. "He's not here right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, it's just, I just was hoping to talk to him. So, um, you must be Diana?"

The woman let out a barking laugh. "Oh hell no. I'm Laura. Alvin and Di are my cousins."

"Oh, well nice to meet you."

Laura leaned back in her chair. "You must be that new girl he's been out sailing with."

Mary blushed and nodded.

"Well, ain't been much to do these past few days. Alvin went down to the High Tide. I'd close up myself, but..." she shrugged.

"The High Tide?"

Laura gestured over her shoulder. "Down Front Street about a quarter mile. Hard to spot, there's not but a small sign. Look for a boathouse with a red roof, then go around the shore side, you'll see it."

"Okay, thanks." Mary turned to leave.

"Best buy yourself some galoshes," Laura said, holding up her leg to show her own high rubber boots, "Gonna ruin those fine shoes."

Mary thanked her and went back outside. She immediately stepped in a deep puddle and soaked her left foot.

She would never have found the High Tide if Laura had not told her to look for the red roof. From the landward side it was just another in a string of weather worn boathouses. As she rounded the building, though, she saw that the water side had been converted into an open air bar, half in the boathouse and half on a wide covered deck.

Alvin was sitting at the far end of the deck with a slender man who was wearing a battered Red Sox cap low over his face. As she crossed toward them, the man looked up and made eye contact with her. His appearance gave her a start. He looked like a younger, slighter version of Alvin.

Alvin set down his glass of beer and turned to see what had caught his brother's eye. When she saw Mary he smiled and said, "Put your eyes back in your head, Tim."

He rose and greeted Mary with a kiss on the cheek. "I'd think you'd still be working," he said, looking at his watch.

"I took half a day's personal time, I had some business to take care of."

"Oh. I hope everything's alright."

She nodded. "We can talk about it later."

"Sure." He turned toward the table. "Mary, this is my brother, Tim."

Tim rose from the table and shook her hand. "Very pleased to meet you," he said, showing her a grin remarkably like his older brother's.

Alvin held out a chair for her, and she sat down. "What can I get you? Would you like a beer?" he asked.

"No, I'm feeling chilled from the rain. Do they have hot tea?"

"I doubt it," he said, "but they make a wicked cocoa."

"That sounds great."

"I'll be right back," he said, stroking her shoulder.

Mary looked at Tim. He was still grinning. She looked out at the rain. "I am not used to weather like this this time of year," she said.

"Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles."

"You must be one of the banker folks. Have you been through a Maine winter?"

"Not yet."

Tim shook his head in sympathy as Alvin returned and set a steaming mug down in front of Mary. He sat down and looked at Mary, and then his brother. They both looked at him.

"Well, don't let me interrupt you," he said. Tim obviously had questions about the pretty woman who had sat at their table, but Mary spoke first.

"So, Tim, what do you do?"

"Oh, some of this, some of that. I work in the woods mostly, but I keep my hand in a few things."

Mary was confused about what he meant, but decided to ask Alvin later. Instead she asked him, "Are you married?"

Tim looked at his watch. "Not at the moment."

Alvin laughed, and Mary gave him a quizzical look.

"He can't keep track," he told her.

"Hey now, I have only been married to two women."

"Twice." Alvin interjected. Looking at Mary, he explained, "He married Anna, she kicked him out, then he married Molly, but she found out he was back fooling around with Anna, so she gave him the boot."

"Allegedly," Tim put in.

Alvin rolled his eyes. "Anna took him back for a while, then he left her to go back to Molly."

Mary shook her head, not sure if she was amused or appalled. "And now you aren't with either of them?"

"Women are fickle," he shrugged. He tipped back his beer and finished it. "Well, I'm guessing that if there are three wheels on this bike, I'm the spare. So, I'll get gone. Nice to meet you, Mary."

He slapped his brother on the back as he left the table. "Don't let him get you out on his boat," he said, winking at Mary.

Mary blushed, but chuckled. When Tim had left, she took Alvin's hand. "Your brother is an interesting guy."

"That he is."

"Is that true, about his wives?"

"Oh yes."

"What did he mean about working in the woods?"

"He has some woodlots. Cuts firewood. But he does other stuff, handyman work, bush hogging and such."

"Bush hogging?"

"Clearing brush."

"And he makes a living doing that sort of thing?"

"Well, he also has siblings who love him."

Mary narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

"So, what have you been up to, that you took off work for?"

She looked out at the rainy harbor for a minute. "Alvin, we were careless Saturday. I mean, we are okay this time, but we can't be impulsive."

It took Alvin a moment to realize what she was talking about. "Oh," he said at last, feeling embarrassed, "Yes, you're right."

"So, I went to Planned Parenthood in Bangor today to get back on the pill."

Alvin looked down at his hands, uncertain what to say. Mary was puzzled by his reaction. "Do you have a problem with that?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It's just...it's good."

"You don't seem to think it's good."

"No, it's fine. It just seems like a big step."

"Alvin, this is about me, not you."

"Seems like it was about both of us Saturday."

She stared at him. "Really? We go on a few dates and you think what I do with my body is about you?"

"No, of course not, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, you said yourself, we went on a few dates. This seems like, I don't know, a commitment?"

Mary got up from the table. "Don't worry, they work with anybody."

"Mary, sit down, let's talk."

She turned towards the door. Alvin hesitated a moment, then followed her. She was getting into her car when he came around the side of the building.

"Mary! Come on!" He shouted, raising his arms in supplication.

Mary started the car and turned on the windshield wipers. She watched Alvin walk around to the driver's side of her car, and let him stand in the rain for a minute before lowering her window.

"Go inside, you're getting soaked."

"Can I call you later?"

She stared straight ahead for a moment, then turned to look at him. "Alvin, don't be so dramatic. Get in the car."

Alvin dashed around and got into the passenger seat. He looked sad and bedraggled, but Mary could not help chuckling at his appearance.

"You think I'm being dramatic? You're the one who walked out."

"Well, that's true," she said, "but listen. I like spending time with you, but I am not trying to push you into anything. I don't know what I want, and I don't know what you want. Okay? If you felt like I was being pushy, I apologize."

"You don't need to apologize. Well, maybe for making me stand in the rain."

"No, you had that coming."

"Let's go back in," he said, "I was thinking we could get a bucket of steamers."

"A what now?"

"Steamer clams."

Mary rolled her eyes. "No, I don't want any steamed clams. Do you ever eat vegetables?"

"I eat a lot of vegetables. Don't tell me what to do with my body."

"You're not as funny as you think you are."

"I'm wicked funny."

"Don't push your luck. You need to get out of those wet clothes."

"Yes, I need to go home and change."

"Then let's go. Just give me directions." She put the car into reverse and began backing up.

"My car's back to the wharf."

"I can run you to your house. I'd like to see where you live."

Alvin felt uncomfortable with the idea of Mary coming to his house, but was not sure why.

"Well?" she asked.

"Turn right," he said, "head out on Front Street."

They drove past a row of weathered boat sheds and the ruins of an abandoned sardine cannery. The road split, one fork continuing along the shore, the other curving inland. At Alvin's direction, Mary turned left, away from the water. She had not been this way before. They barely spoke as the road climbed and the houses grew further apart. In a few minutes they were driving past farm fields interspersed with stand of woods.

"Turn right at the bottom of the hill," Alvin instructed. Mary turned on to a narrow dirt road. There were thick woods on the left side, but on the right was a large pond, and then a stretch of overgrown fields, bordered by a tumbled stone wall and a screen of trees.

"That's Puddledock Pond," Alvin said, "and up ahead, the Faulkner homestead. Turn in there, by the mailbox."

The rain had tapered to a drizzle. Mary drove up the long muddy driveway and stopped in the dooryard.

"Oh, you've got one of those connected houses!" She exclaimed. She had seen a number of similar farmsteads in the area, large houses connected to a barn by a row of smaller attached buildings.

"You can pull into the back house," Alvin said, "right there, it's the garage, sort of."

Mary parked and they got out of the car.

Alvin opened the door into a small, dim foyer. "This is the mud room," he said. Alvin took Mary's raincoat and draped it on one of the hooks that ran along one wall.

From the mud room they passed through another door into the kitchen. Alvin filled a kettle and put it on the stove. "I'm going to go change. There's tea bags here," he said, taking a metal canister down from the cupboard and setting it on the rough wooden table, "I'll be back down in a few minutes."

Mary looked around the kitchen. She was impressed with it's neatness and cleanliness. There were a few dishes in the sink, and the counter was more cluttered with condiments and spice containers than she'd have liked, but it was not the mess she imagined most men's kitchens to be. She opened the refrigerator, wondering with amusement if it was full of beer and junk food. There were a few bottles of Shipyard Ale, but there were also a half dozen cans of Coke and a few of ginger ale. It was otherwise well stocked with staples; butter, bacon, sour cream, a big block of cheddar. There was a scattering of tupperware containers, and when she opened the vegetable drawer, she was pleased to see fresh lettuce and asparagus.

The kettle whistled. She made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the table. A large gray and white cat padded into the kitchen and rubbed against her leg. She scratched his head while Alvin came back in, having changed into a pair of worn jeans and a slightly too large cable knit sweater.

"That's Angus," he said, making his own cup of tea. When he sat down across from Mary, the cat jumped into his lap.

"You know, I met your cousin today. Laura, is it?"

Alvin nodded, blowing on his tea to cool it. "She's a good help."

"How is she related?"

"Her father is my mother's brother, Harry." He chuckled. "Now Harry is a real piece of work. Imagine Tim eighty years old and not changed a whit."

"Is your Mom still..."

"She passed a few years back. Heart failure."

"Did she live here, with you?"

Alvin nodded. "She was a big help with the girls, when, you know."

They sat and drank their tea as the light outside dimmed. Mary had a lot of questions about Bangor; what were the best restaurants? what kind of stores were there at the mall? Alvin answered as best he could, and promised to give her a tour sometime soon.

"You sure you want to take me on a shopping excursion? It doesn't seem like your type of thing."

Alvin shrugged. "I'd be going for the company, not the destination. Say, you getting hungry?"

Mary realized that she was, and nodded.

"I made a big pot of spaghetti yesterday, still have plenty. How about I heat it up?"

"That would be great, thank you."

Alvin dumped Angus on the floor, fetched the spaghetti from the refrigerator and put it in a pot to warm. He took a loaf of bread from the cupboard and brought it to the table.

"Can I help?" Mary asked.

Alvin cut four slices from the loaf. "You can butter these up."

"As opposed to just buttering you up all the time?"

"You can multi-task, I'm sure," he grinned.

Mary buttered the bread, and Alvin sprinkled it with granulated garlic and parmesan cheese. He checked the temperature on the spaghetti and popped the bread in the oven. In a few minutes, he presented Mary with a steaming bowl of spaghetti and crispy garlic toast. The sauce was thick and meaty. Mary would have liked more spice, but it was good and she ate it with pleasure.

Alvin fetched a bottle of red wine to go with their meal. His anxiety at having Mary to his house had vanished. Sitting across the table from her, sharing a simple meal, seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

They finished eating, and Alvin put the dishes in the sink. He held out his hand to Mary. She took it and rose, and he led her into the living room. He turned on a lamp and she looked around. It was a cozy room, a charming mix of old and new; on one wall a big stone fireplace, on another a huge flat screen TV. There was a couch, a big recliner and, next to the fireplace, an old wooden rocking chair. Mary was pleased to see that there were full bookshelves as well.

Alvin sat down on the couch and Mary curled up next to him. He touched her cheek and raised her face for a kiss. She parted her lips and welcomed it. They sat like that for a while, just holding each other and sharing deep kisses. Mary ran her hand up Alvin's thigh and brushed it across his crotch. He took her hand in his and kissed it. She leaned back.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything is fine," he replied, "let's just not rush." His earlier anxiety was creeping back.

"Okay," Mary said. She wondered if he was still feeling some agitation about their quarrel at the High Tide. "I need to use the bathroom."

"It's upstairs," Alvin said, gesturing towards the hallway, "first door on the right."

Mary went up the stairs. There were four doors off of the upstairs hall. She resisted the urge to peek into the other rooms, and went in the bathroom. When she had finished going to the toilet, she looked in the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet. Her hair was a mess, but her hair was always a mess. She looked around the room, feeling guilty but unable to resist a little bit of spying. The toilet was clean, that was good. She pulled back the shower curtain. She wouldn't let her tub get that dirty, but it wasn't awful. She was pleased to see he used a bath wash and not bar soap. Somebody trained him good, she thought, then felt a little pain at realizing who that someone had probably been.

She opened the medicine cabinet. You could learn a lot about a person from the contents of their medicine cabinet, she thought. She was surprised to see that he used an old fashioned shaving mug and brush. She'd only seen that in movies. His aftershave was Old Spice, no surprise there. She felt like she was missing something, and then it hit her. There was a bottle of Tylenol, some Tums, a few other drugstore items. But there were no prescription medications. She didn't know if that was normal for a forty six year old, but she assumed it was a good sign.

When she returned to the living room, Alvin was scrolling through music channels on the television. There was a quilt draped across the back of the couch. Mary wrapped it around herself and lay down with her head in Alvin's lap.

"This is what you like, right? This alternate rock?"

"Alternative." She looked up at the screen. "I like this song."

Alvin read the credits. "Lord Huron. The Night We Met."

Mary sang softly along.

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

"You have a good singing voice," Alvin said, stroking her hair.

"Thank you. Not that good, but it's okay."

"We should go to karaoke night out to the Roadhouse sometime."

"Are you going to sing?"

"Hell no."

"Okay, then."

Mary sat up and twisted around to face Alvin. He cradled her in his arms and kissed her. They sat like that for a long time, listening to the music and enjoying the warmth of each other's company. Finally, Mary roused herself.

"I should go. I have to work in the morning."

"It's raining hard again."

She frowned. "Is it?" She listened and could make out the sound of raindrops tapping the windows.

"You can stay here tonight," Alvin offered.

Mary reached for her purse and fished out her phone. "I'll have to get up super early to go home and change." She set an alarm for six a.m.

"We ought to get some sleep then," Alvin said. He stood up and lifted her up beside him. He took her hand and led her towards the stairs, but as he did, he started to feel anxious again. Mary started up the stairs and he followed her.

"Past the bathroom on the right," he directed her.

Mary pushed the half open door and entered the bedroom. Alvin stepped in behind her and flipped the wall switch. When the room lit up, Mary looked around. It was cluttered but clean. It appeared that Alvin was neat enough to make sure his clothes were clean and folded, but was not in the habit of actually putting them in drawers or on hangers. There was a dresser with a large round mirror against one wall, and a tall chifforobe in the far corner, but the room was dominated by a big wooden four poster bed. Mary crossed to it and sat on the edge. It was what her mother had called "half made," the covers pulled up, but not tucked in or straightened out.

Alvin stood frozen in the doorway. Mary looked up at him, puzzled. "Are you okay, honey?"

He stared at the bed, and Mary sitting on it. A rush of thoughts flew through his mind. He remembered going with Bonnie to McCoy's Furniture store and buying that bed. They had conceived their daughters in it. He remembered the first night they spent in it, and he remembered the last. He slumped against the door jamb.

"Mary, I, I can't..."

Mary looked at him, then around the room. She looked at the dresser. It was a woman's piece of furniture, out of place in a man's room. She looked down at the bed, and she understood. She rose and went to him. Placing her arm around his waist, she turned him into the hallway.

"It's okay, baby," she said, "let's go downstairs."

They returned to the living room.

"I don't want you to go," Alvin said, "but the bed, it just..."

"It's her bed. Or, yours, you and her"

"Yes. I'm sorry"

She hugged him. "Don't say that. I understand."

"If you go, I am going to be afraid you'll get to thinking I rejected you."

"I won't."

"You might."

"Is there a guest room?"

"There's the girl's rooms."

"Now, that is something I'm not ready for."

"There's the couch."

"We can sleep on the couch," she said, "It will be tight though."

"I sleep in the recliner sometimes when my back bothers me, I can sleep there."

"You sure?"

He nodded and went upstairs to get blankets and pillows. Mary wandered over to the fireplace. There was a row of framed pictures on the mantel. The first one she looked at was fairly recent, Alvin and Tim and a handsome dark haired woman she assumed was their sister. There was a faded black and white wedding picture, that had to be his parents, and a shot of two pretty teenage girls in summer dresses. Charlotte and Jennifer, she thought. C and J. And there was a smiling round faced woman, with pixieish features and cascades of blonde hair. Bonnie.