Page 21 of The House on Haven Way

“Well, he was dancing with every dame in the place—fat, thin, blonde, redhead, brunette— Everyone but the waitress. Nancy. When her shift was done, she sat with me. We had a couple of beers, went up to Blue Moon Lake, where we smooched a little... Let me tell you. She was saying yes while I was waiting. I was done with all the ‘tomorrow we may die’ mentality that makes a fella and a pretty WAC go into the linen closet on base for ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes. Sounds about right.”

“Hey! I could go longer, lady, but ten minutes is about as long as you can last without getting caught, okay?”

“Okay, okay, none of my business. So you weren’t nervous about Nancy saying no. You were nervous because...”

“Because... I wanted to get married. Get on with my life. But...” Johnny’s face looks so pained suddenly. Then so still. All of him is still, and he fades before my eyes, going from somehow solid to see-through, then just an outline. “I guess I wasn’t crazy in love with her. No Romeo and Juliet. No, ‘I will die without you. But then... I mean, do people feel that way outside of books?” he asked.

“No. No, I don’t think so. But it’d be nice.”

“Well, that was Harry's point, the nosy ass. He didn’t want Nancy until I had her—that’s what I think. I think he didn’t even notice her until we started going around together. She was just the waitress, and he was hanging out with all the pretty nurses and the girls who worked the phone exchange. I had Nancy, and I wasn’t sure if there was supposed to be some big explosion of love, some shouting in my heart with all the bells and whistles. Marriages look like that, you know?”

“I’ve seen some people who are sickeningly sweet and in love,” I say. “But mainly on social media. On camera. Little celebrities,” I correct, so Johnny has some idea of what I’m talking about. He nods, and I go on. “But you’re probably right. Marriage is more about a steady, companionable, solid kind of love. The love of someone who is just going to be there for you and with you. When did you two start dating?”

“In June.”

“And it was September when you wanted to pop the question?”

“Hey, we were adults who’d survived two wars, gas rationing, both of us lived alone and worked hard... Three months doesn’t seem long enough?”

“Hey, I don’t judge.” I hold up my hands. “I dated Devon in finance for two years. I thought we were super serious. He had a drawer full of stuff at my place. I had a drawer at his place. He never called after the accident. Not once. I didn’t come back to work. My sister went and cleaned out my desk, and he dropped my stuff off in a shopping bag, left it in my office chair.”

“Two years? Two years, and he didn’t ask you to tie the knot?” Johnny looks shocked.

“Yep.”

“And he had work, this guy? He could afford a family?”

“That’s not so much of a thing these days, where a guy has to be the breadwinner. I had money of my own, too. We could have made a go of it. I think, honestly, that he was never serious. I was. I thought we were good on paper.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we worked for the same firm, but his firm was technically like a subcontractor, so we could date. Both smart, Black, young professionals, college-educated. Handsome.”

“And beautiful.” Johnny nods seriously, matching things up.

I don’t know why I blush. Probably because I’m in “have to go do physical therapy” sweats, and my hair needs deep conditioning. It’s frizzing, not curling. Not cute.

“We’re off track. You were nervous. Did Harry know that?”

Johnny’s becoming solid again, less gray, more white. He’s... He’s good-looking in an old-fashioned way. His military photograph with the obituary made me more aware of it, I guess. “I didn’t tell him. I told him I was gonna pop the question. Make a good supper. Wine. Candles. Ask her. She would say yes. Then... Well. We’d start planning the wedding. But Harry came over. Said I didn’t love Nancy right. Like he was some judge of that. No, see, what I know now is that he wanted her. Wanted her enough to take her away from here and marry her while I was barely cold. Don’t they say that people will kill for love?”

“They do. And the news is full of that. He was a medic? I bet he fed you some untraceable poison. Did you eat anything he brought you?”

“No, but I was busy cooking, and I took something for my stomach while he was there. I think he musta slipped it into my drink while I was getting dinner ready.”

“And you can cook. You were a mechanic, you were a war hero, and you’re handy around the house. The whole package.”

Johnny laughs. “Guess I’d be ‘good on paper’?”

“Exactly.” I grab my laptop back with fresh excitement, even though my head is still throbbing. “Your stomach hurt even before he came over, though?”

“Nerves, I said that. But they got worse and worse, and then I was vomiting. A lot. I won’t go into the details, but it was bad, and it was fast. There was so much pain I couldn’t see straight.”

“Sudden vomiting and pain. Sounds like poison to me. And you were young. No diseases you know of, no injuries?”

“Twenty-four. Came through the war with barely a scratch. Got a nasty scar from a bullet in my shin, but it didn’t strike the bone.”