The Book Club

She looked up at her husband perched on a ladder across the endless piles of dust, tools and wallboard that littered the floor between them. He wore his white overalls without a shirt underneath, exposing his long, lean, tan torso and sinewy muscles, still those of a man twenty years his junior. John’s blond hair was tied back into a stubby ponytail making his prominent cheekbones all the more pronounced on his narrow face.

My, my, my, he was a handsome man, she thought, feeling a familiar surge. She caught his eye, and by the way his own gaze sparked and his smile widened, she knew he was picking up her thoughts. Or the gist of them, anyway. John had a highly tuned radar for sex. She saw him glance at the clock and chuckle, then turn his head to raise one brow suggestively. It was five o’clock on the button, her favorite time of the day for lovemaking. They called it The Children’s Hour since they’d started trying to make a baby.

“That was Doris,” Annie replied, slipping out of her sandals. “She’s going to stop by later on to drop off some papers for you to look at. Apparently, R.J. is off to a dinner meeting somewhere.”

John began wiping his hands with the towel hanging from the ladder. “That must be about the Delancey building. I thought I was going to be at that dinner. It’s supposed to be very chummy, drinks-and-cigars kind of thing.”

She pulled the elastic out from her hair. “I guess we’re not chums.”

He frowned, rolling up a ball of tape. “Sure we are. We’re both friends with the Bridges.”

“Correction. You work for R.J. and I’m in the Book Club with Doris.” She stopped shaking out her hair and rested her hands on her hips. “We’re neither of us their real friend.”

John scowled. She knew it hurt him to imply that he wasn’t equal to R. J. Bridges and his upper-crust friends. Not financially, certainly, but John considered himself an equal intellectually. That man-to-man kind of thing. And it hurt her that he was either too dumb or too stubborn to see that R.J. would never allow anyone equal footing in business, much less someone he preferred to keep under his foot. She’d known lots of men like that, especially in the legal field. It was as though her—a woman—winning a court case somehow emasculated the male lawyers. When it came to the sexes, Justice still wore a cloth over her eyes.

She’d understood this about R. J. Bridges from the first night she’d met him. From the heat in his palm when he took her hand, to the way he could undress a woman with his eyes and make her feel dirty. But John didn’t. He didn’t have the killer instinct—and she loved him for it. She sighed, seeing the hurt blaze in John’s brilliant blue eyes. Her dear, innocent, trusting John. She’d be there to protect him from predators like R.J.

“I’ll be your best friend,” she said, sidling up to the ladder and tugging at the cuff of his overalls. “Wanna come down and play?”

The sulk vanished instantly as he caught wind of her playful mood. He cocked his head and offered a half smile. “What do you wanna play?”

“Well, I thought we’d take off all our clothes first,” she said while very gently rotating her hips and unbuttoning her white cotton blouse with teasing slowness. “Then take a nice hot shower. Oooh, we’ll let that hard, pulsating water beat down on our backs while we lather up the soap and spread it over every inch of our slicky wet bodies.”

She cast a sloe-eyed glance his way and pursed her lips to disguise her smile of delight, his eyes had already glazed over and he had a stillness about him, like a cat coiling to pounce. Her own heart began to race at the thought of what she knew was coming.

“What then?” His voice was raspy.

She unbuttoned another button with agonizing slowness. She knew it drove him mad with desire when she stripped slowly to build the anticipation. It was a pleasure for both of them, actually—for her to tease and for him to make the final, decisive move. In their lovemaking, John was dominant. In this arena he asserted himself in ways that he did not in their everyday life.

She strolled over to the stereo and turned on blues music, then moved to the refrigerator where she pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine. All the while she played the classic stripper’s game of hide-and-seek, offering him a flash of skin that he never quite saw. All the while, maintaining eye contact with him. Annie poured two glasses of wine, then took a long, slow sip, licking her lips when she was finished.

“I think I’d like a nice, fat, red, juicy strawberry in mine.”

His eyes sparked, transmitting in his glance the message that he vividly recalled what they had done with strawberries a few nights earlier.

Annie slowly wriggled out of her blouse, letting the cotton slide off her arms to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her small but round, firm breasts were mouthwateringly ripe, exposing rosy taut nipples the color of strawberries.

John licked his lips.

Next she slowly unzipped her jeans, undulating her hips free as she lifted one leg, then the other, and kicked the pants across the floor.

John practically threw himself from the ladder, leaping down to her side and grasping her against his torso. She loved it when he was wild like this, so hungry for sex that his body trembled with excitement. He was quick to arouse, ready whenever she was, and an insatiable lover. She’d fallen in lust with him first, but it was his skill and tenderness as a lover that broke down her defenses and made her fall in love with him.

With nimble fingers that could peel veneer he unfastened his overalls and removed both their underwear, his tongue never once leaving her mouth as he tasted and devoured the sweetness she’d promised.

“John, wait, wait…” she mumbled under his lips, laughing. “Dinner. I have to get the ham.”

He pulled her down onto the drop cloth, spreading her out beneath him, fully intending to feast.

“Forget the ham,” he said, dragging his lips down her throat. “I have a sudden craving for strawberries.”

Doris parked her Lexus at the curb of John and Annie’s house, anxious to deliver the envelope and get out as soon as possible. She harrumphed seeing that the front entryway of the house was under scaffolding. She’d have to make her way around the piles of brick and wood that lay like hulking beasts in the driveway to get to the rear entrance. She clucked her tongue in annoyance as she trudged around to the rear door of the low, spreading brown-brick house, careful not to step on any tools or trip in any holes.

She was panting with the effort by the time she climbed up the back porch and rang the doorbell. She tapped her foot after a moment and rang again. The button was soft to the touch. She cursed under her breath, realizing that it, like everything else in this house, probably wasn’t working. Was anyone even home? She didn’t hear anything…. Doris walked to one of the kitchen windows, and leaning far over the pair of wooden horses, peeked inside.

Her breath stilled in her throat as she caught sight of John and Annie slow dancing in the quiet room to the beat of some inner love song. His sinewy arms, bare under his overalls, held Annie’s nude body against his long torso in a tight, possessive manner. His tanned hands cupped her alabaster hips while her slim arms clung around his shoulders so close her nose and lips were pressed against his neck. They swayed with hips joined and eyes closed. The passion between them was palpable and Doris gazed on with longing. When John pulled Annie’s head back in a hungry, devouring kiss, Doris licked her own parched lips and sighed. She stepped back from the window, feeling an excruciating emptiness in her heart. A shiver of envy swept through her for that kind of tenderness in her own life.

She tucked the envelope securely between the back door and the screen, careful not to disturb the lovers, then quietly left the house unobserved. She walked away with a shaky gait across the uneven flagstone.

Doris wasn’t ready to return to her empty house. On the way home, she stopped by Eve’s place for some cheer and conversation. She hadn’t seen much of her since Tom’s funeral, though everyone had tried to call or just stop by frequently. But Eve was firm in her refusals, preferring her self-imposed exile.

Eve’s house was an impressive redbrick structure well situated on a large property bordered by a black iron fence and ancient towering pines. Driving through the gates, Doris thought again how she’d always admired Eve’s ability to soften hard edges in both her landscape designs and in her relationships with people. Just as the harsh, straight lines of the Prairie architecture were rounded by Eve’s fabulous curved perennial beds and shrubs, so had her warm, womanly nature doused many flare-ups between obstinate opponents—both in committee meetings and on the playground. Doris missed Eve’s presence in her life. She missed her friendship. Doris hadn’t known that losing Tom would also mean losing her best friend. It wasn’t fair! Eve was the friend who lugged over a bag full of perennials to share from her garden, or who picked up Sarah if Doris was ill. She was the one Doris would call if she was in a pinch or just needed to talk.

As she walked from her car to the front door, Doris was dismayed to see Eve’s garden such a wilderness. Dried leaves drooped under bent flower heads that appeared to have given up the battle against choking weeds. The front curtains were drawn against the daylight, adding to the mood of neglect. All bad signs. Gathering her resolve, Doris knocked on the door.

After a moment the door opened, revealing Eve’s pale, drawn face. She stood, blinking in the sunshine, then forced a smile and exclaimed delight in seeing her. Her eyes, however, were lifeless.

“I’m all alone tonight,” Doris announced, stepping into the soft floral foyer. The house was dimly lit, and as gloomy as a tomb. “And I seem to remember your children are at camp, right?”

“Yes, and I miss them terribly,” Eve replied, closing the door. “Bronte and Finney have been there for a week already and still have one more to go. They seem to like it well enough. Their doctor thought it would be good for them to get some fresh air and new scenery. But it seems so quiet here without them. Without…” Her voice faded and her eyes seemed to glaze over in pain.

Doris thought that it was a shame there was no camp for Eve to go to. Her pallor and thinness was a tell-tale sign that she wasn’t going out or eating well. “So, we’re both alone. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

Eve rubbed her thin arms with her fingers and shook her head. “No, not really. I feel so tired. Actually, I was going to go to bed early tonight. Maybe watch a little TV.” She yawned and covered her mouth with her palm. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I just can’t seem to get enough sleep lately.”

“Are you well?” Doris scanned Eve’s face. “You look so pale and you’ve lost weight.”

Eve waved away her concern. “I’m fine. It’s just being inside and alone so much.”

“I’ve tried to call you…” Doris interrupted.

“I know you have. Everyone has…And I’m grateful. But, it’s not your company I’m lonely for. It’s Tom’s,” she said with the air of a confession. “The sadness inside of me is so big it just sucks the energy straight from my bones.” Then she smiled a bit too brightly, as though to dispel any doubt that anything was amiss. “Oh, don’t worry, I hear it’s normal. This is what the doctors call normal grieving. It’s just a phase.”

“It doesn’t sound normal to me. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I like being alone.”

“But it’s not good to be alone too much. Everything in moderation. Come out to dinner with me.”

Eve shook her head. “I’m just not in the mood. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. Think of this period as a kind of hibernation. I need to sleep for a while, okay? I’ll be my old self in time.”

Doris looked at Eve with doubt. She knew in her heart she shouldn’t leave Eve alone, yet she couldn’t think what to do to lure her out of her isolation. Doris was the type to fix things when they were broken. She couldn’t abide a tear in a dress or serve coffee in a chipped cup, and it was obvious to her that Eve was somehow, well…broken. Then she thought of the garden and knew how to lure Eve outdoors. After all, a woman always felt better when her garden was in order.

“All right, you win. We won’t go out to dinner. But your garden looks a little tired, don’t you think? Let’s take a few minutes to put your garden to bed, like we used to. It’s a lovely evening. Come on, no laziness. It’s got to get done. Go get your gloves and a pair for me. We can make a dent before the sun disappears completely.”

Doris thought she caught a flicker of interest. Eve raised one brow, shrugged, then a small smile of resignation eased across her slender face. Doris beamed with elation, for having succeeded, and gratitude, for not having to be alone this evening. Rolling up her sleeves she felt flush with relief that she wouldn’t have time to recall the love and passion she’d witnessed in Annie’s marriage, then compare it to her own. Eve wasn’t the only one who needed care and mending tonight. Feeling a sudden surge of energy, Doris followed Eve into the kitchen, flicked on a light and called out, “Why don’t I just make a quick call to North Star and order some Chinese for dinner?”

Four