O+F Part 48

"Nothing volcanic--but I found a '55 T-Bird. It's a little rough. My mechanic and I are putting it in shape."

"Nice," Mark said. "It will appreciate."

"Right," Richard said. "If it survives my niece. It's going to be a present for her eighteenth birthday."

"Would you be my uncle?" Oliver asked.

"Since she's not quite seventeen, that means I'll have to drive it for a year." Richard illuminated the universe with one of his smiles.

"Well, you want to test it out," Mark said. Oliver laughed and drank more Guinness. The room filled with the Friday crowd. He would be home an hour late. So be it. Jennifer would forgive him. Emma would give him a big smile. Woof. Verdi.

In the following months, Oliver slipped further.

Suzanne took days off, left early for the dentist, and called in sick when they couldn't stand to be apart any longer. No one seemed to notice that they were often absent from the hospital at the same time, although Molly began smiling at Oliver in a shrewd and tolerant way.

"What are _you_ smiling at?" Oliver asked her as he was leaving one afternoon.

"Mama didn't raise no fools," she said.

"I like your mama--she make biscuits, by any chance?"

"Melt in your mouth," Molly said. "Almost as good as mine."

"I want to die and wake up in Georgia," Oliver said. Molly was warning him. If she had figured it out, the rest would too.

Suzanne gave herself to him utterly. She hoped that he would make love to her when he came over, but if he wanted only to hold her or to have his back rubbed, that was fine, too. He learned about her religious beliefs. She went to church every Sat.u.r.day with the Fundamentalists and did her part in their community which included a school as well as the hospital. She was good-natured about her uncle and didn't take the rules too literally. How could she and carry on with Oliver? She believed in prayer. "Every night I ask forgiveness. I ask the Lord to show me the way. I need a lot of forgiving," she said.

"You're so sweet," Oliver said.

"I can be a b.i.t.c.h," she said. "I just don't feel that way around you."

She lifted her face, lips parted for a kiss, and he pulled her to him.

She told him about her father, a long-distance trucker who drove away for good when she was eight. He had a drinking problem and was abusive.

He lived in California somewhere, she thought, or at least he had once.

Her mother remarried when Suzanne was in high school. Suzanne didn't like her new stepfather. When her mother moved out of town, Suzanne stayed behind for her last year of high school, living with her uncle and aunt. That was when she ran away with Donny, a sax player, and got a taste for jazz. She left him when she realized that his love for drugs was a lot stronger than his love for her.

She told him funny stories about Harley, who ran the local U-Haul franchise and was forever hitting on her for a date. She liked Harley.

"He can fix anything." He was a Fundamentalist in good standing. "If they can put up with Harley, they can put up with me," she said.

Their relationship remained intensely physical. Oliver spanked her a few more times, but it quickly became a ritual, not a punishment.

Suzanne didn't want him to hurt her. She wanted him to control her, a different matter. He felt increasingly responsible for her. He did whatever he wanted with her, s.e.xually. She molded to his needs and became more beautiful by the week.

One afternoon, as Oliver was leaving the hospital, Gifford called him into his office. "What can I do for you?" Oliver asked.

"Nothing special," Gifford said. "I wanted to check in with you. We are pleased with your work."

"Thank you. I've had a lot of cooperation from Dan and--Suzanne."

"Yes. Suzanne said that you were attentive to detail." Gifford rubbed his chin. "She's my niece, you know."

"Yes," Oliver said.

"She's had troubles in the past, but she's overcome them with hard work and the Lord's help," Gifford said. "She'll make someone a fine wife."

"He'll be a lucky guy," Oliver said.

Gifford agreed. "And how is your family?"

"Fine," Oliver said. "Fine. Emma will be walking any day."

Oliver began drinking wine every night at home, taking refuge in a jovial family life that was drifting toward the rocks. He looked stressed when he wasn't drinking. Jennifer worried about him and urged him to dump the hospital job.

"Well," Oliver said to her one evening, pouring a large gla.s.s of Chianti Cla.s.sico, "you're going to like this--_they_ are dumping _me_."

Jennifer applauded. "I'll have a gla.s.s of that. What happened?"

"They were ordered to. The auditors did a solid job--took them weeks, remember?"

"I do," Jennifer said. "There, Precious."

"Dan was right about the missing money. They didn't think anything of it, said it was well within reasonable limits. Can you imagine, $185,000? They treated it like fifty cents. What do you think happens at General Motors? My G.o.d, millions must get screwed up every month."

He clinked gla.s.ses with Jennifer. "Here's to the miscellaneous adjustment. I still don't know whether it was stolen. I doubt it, somehow."

Oliver cut off a piece of cheddar. "Anyway, they took the books back to headquarters, and today they ordered us to switch to a different software package, one that will be standard at all their hospitals.

Centralized control. No more local programming. Bye, bye, Oliver." He waved his gla.s.s.

"Bye, bye," Emma said. Jennifer hugged her.

"I'm about done now, really. A couple of reports, one more operating system revision . . . I'm a little sad about it. It's surprising how you get to _like_ people. I mean, the Fundamentalists are nutso with all their rules, but they do a lot of good. If you're an overweight single parent with three children, no education, and no job, they'll find a place for you. They work hard, and they help each other. Dan is a really nice guy. And . . ." he stopped. "I just remembered--I have a present; it's in the Jeep. I was going to surprise you."

Oliver returned from outside carrying Suzanne's quilt. "I couldn't resist," he said. He unfolded it and held it up. "It was on display for a month at the hospital, one of the items for their benefit auction.

It's handmade. I kept seeing Emma sleeping under it, so I made a bid and got it."

"Oooh," Jennifer said. "Ooooh, Precious, look what Daddy got for you!"

"Do you like it?" Oliver asked.

"It's beautiful," Jennifer said.

"That's what I thought."

"Who made it?"

"Suzanne--you know, the woman I told you about who has been so helpful.

See? Look down here." He pointed out a tangle of stems in one corner where "SUZANNE" had been st.i.tched in a way that made the letters look like part of the growth. "See there?"

"Oh, I see it. How clever!"

"It's a field," Oliver said.