A VERY INCOMPLETE SHORT STORY
THE MANY ALMOSTS OF GALLAGHER JEAN AND DEXTER GREENE
THE SIDE OF A DUSTY KANSAS ROAD SOMETIME IN THE EARLY EIGHTIES.
Jean Gallagher kicked the cart’s useless wheel. But the axle was still bent, and her toe was the main victim of the collision.
A fancy Buick pulled up to the curb beside her. A tanned white man leaned out the window. “Hello there, I—”
“God, for the last time, I’m not a hooker. I’m not hitchhiking. I don’t need Jesus, and these are not for sale no matter how mad your wife is at you. Get lost, you good-for-nothing scum-sucker.”
“I was just going to ask if you needed a lift because—”
“Last asshole who said that same thing followed up with how I’d need to suck him off first. So I’m doing fine on my own. I’m almost there anyway.” Jean kicked the wheel again for good measure.
“Almost where?”
“That big old church. It’s right around the corner. One more block.”
“It’s actually about ten blocks that way. I think you might’ve made a wrong turn, ma’am.”
“Shit shit shit shit.”
“As a matter of fact, I—”
“Wendy’s going to fire me for sure, but that’s not even the worst of it.”
“What’s the worst of it?”
“The sweetest, nicest girl on the planet is getting married”—she checked her watch—“in fifteen minutes. She said it’d been her dream since she was a kid to walk down the aisle with a bouquet exactly like her mother’s.
And it’s here along with everything else because my stupid boss’s son was too high on grass to read which flowers go to which wedding. ”
“Well, actually, I’m willing—”
“Look.” Her scathing look silenced him. “I might be willing to sweat my tits off trying to get these flowers there, but sweet girl or not, I’m not about to let myself be murdered. You could be another Toolbox Killer.”
“Would it make a difference if I told you I’m about to marry the sweetest girl on the planet in about fifteen minutes at the big fancy stone church about ten blocks up the road?”
“You—”
He held out his hand. “Dexter Greene. Nice to meet you, Miss—”
“Gallagher … Jean.”
“Well, Gallagher Jean, I’ve been told my bride-to-be is crying her eyes out because some baby’s breath and black-eyed Susans—”
“Yellow daisies and freesia.”
“I was close enough. Anyway, she’s crying her eyes out because the girl delivering her flowers’ car was found abandoned five blocks away with a destroyed tire and the trunk still open and she was convinced you’d ended up dismembered, and we wouldn’t find out until we saw your face on 20/20 after they caught your killer. ”
Jean sniffed. “I knew I liked her.”
“She likes you too, so we better get these flowers loaded up before you do get murdered or get heat stroke. Donna will blame me, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
ANOTHER WEDDING DAY IN AN OLD CHURCH SANCTUARY.
Dexter’s wife elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “Stop scowling.”
“I’m not scowling.”
“You look like you’re at a funeral.”
“Paul’s the one who was late. Why’re you giving me hell about my face?”
“You know I like your face, Dex.” Donna snickered, but then her own face resumed that bland smile. “He’s a doctor. Jeannie said he had surgery that ran long today.”
Dexter scoffed. “Yeah, Old Doc Powell says he wouldn’t trust that fella looking after his granddaughter’s ferret.”
“Paul’s tenured at KU. And who the heck got baby Samantha a ferret?” Donna asked, eyes wide.
“Everyone says he ran around on Mary. Now he’s gonna run around on our Jean—”
“It’s almost over, Dex. Just support her. She’s in love. Look at her. She’s glowing.”
Dexter sighed. But after the applause, when Dexter reached the woman who had been the best friend of himself and his wife for the last five years, he hugged her a little bit tighter than he normally would, because he knew this wasn’t going to end well.
ON THE STEPS OF A STODGY OLD BANK BUILDING.
Jean walked back and forth in front of Donna, who kept looking over her shoulder.
They’d planned for weeks. Donna and Jean had been sure that Paul wouldn’t mess this up for them.
Jean had the check, so she could technically do this even if he didn’t show, but she would wring his neck tonight.
Donna and Dexter were uprooting their entire lives to move back to the area so they could all do this together, and Paul was just … Paul was useless.
“How’s it going?” Dex came down the stairs and sat beside his wife, the spectator to Jean’s pacing.
“He said he’d be here.” Jean looked anywhere but at her friends.
“I’m sure he got held up at the hospital or something.”
“Yeah?” A bit of hope leaked into her voice then.
Dexter nodded, not completely able to hide the anger concealed by his calm exterior. “I’m sure he’s almost here.”
Jean touched her stomach. “He’s been having a tough time since … the baby.”
Donna stood and slung an arm over her shoulder. “I know, Jeannie. I know.”
“That’s probably all that’s happening,” Dexter said, standing to give Jean’s shoulder a squeeze.
“I’m sure he’s almost here.”
A FAMILY-OWNED PHARMACY OCCUPYING HALF OF AN OLD CHURCH BUILDING.
“No, I don’t believe you.” Jean pushed past Dexter, but Donna was waiting there with an even worse look. So much infuriating pity on her face.
“He’s telling the truth, Jeannie.”
Jean slumped over the counter at the pharmacy, looking at the shattered case in the back room. The scarf covering her bare head was crooked, and her swollen face was uglier than usual with the addition of snot and tears. “It could’ve been anyone.”
“The case was broken, but the lock wasn’t. Whoever did it had a key,” said Dexter.
“What about that stock boy you just hired? Kids these days are all doped up. Couldn’t it have been him?” Donna asked her husband gently.
Dexter shook his head.
They each placed a hand on Jean’s shoulders.
Her tears dripped onto the counter. “He got worse again after I got … you know.”
Donna’s fingernails scratched soothing lines between her shoulder blades.
“I can’t do this without him. All those renovations…”
Dexter cleared his throat. “You can, Jeannie. That shop next door. That was your dream. And you have it. If he can’t stay off those—”
“Dexter’s right. We can figure it out together.”
“There’s still lots of units to rent next door.” He squeezed Jean’s shoulder. “We can recoup the costs. Don’t worry about that right now. The work’s almost done. We’ll get some new tenants in, and things’ll look up. Focus on your husband.”
“I guess I can’t kill him, right?”
Dexter laughed. “That’s the Jean I know.”
“Let’s save spousal murder for plan B, shall we?” Donna added.
Dexter slid over a pamphlet. “Supposed to be a good place, Jeannie.”
Jean picked up the pamphlet and looked at the vague smiles and garden and banal quotations about healing and changes and forgiveness. “Think we can talk him into it?”
A WROUGHT-IRON GARDEN BENCH BEHIND AN OLD CHURCH BUILDING.
Jean held her friend’s shoulders. The tall, thin man shook. She’d heard him in the garden when she was bringing a load of compost out. He was still wearing his pharmacist coat, but his glasses were folded up in his hands.
“Dex?”
“I don’t think I can do this without her.”
She sat beside him. It was what she had needed sometimes. Just another presence when she’d been falling apart.
“I c-can’t.”
“You and Donna got me through cancer. Through losing Paul. I’m going to get you through this.” Jean didn’t let him go. She missed her friend so much she hurt inside too. But Donna had been Dexter’s entire world since they were practically kids.
“I can’t make it through the day. Can’t let the kids see me like this. I miss her.” His voice broke on the last word.
Jean handed him a handkerchief and checked her watch. “Well, you’ve almost made it through today. That’s as good a start as any.”
In the minutes after, his tears slowed as Felicity waltzed out into the garden, twirling around the bushes like she had no idea anyone was watching her.
Dexter chuckled in a watery way. “Thought you said she was minding the shop with Maude.”
“She forgets sometimes. She’s twelve. Give her a break.” Jean patted Dexter’s hand. Their hands had changed so much since he’d first waved to her out of that Buick. She’d get him through this whether he wanted to get through it or not.
THE VEGETABLE PATCH IN A LARGE GARDEN BEHIND AN OLD CHURCH BUILDING.
“They want to buy me out of the pharmacy. Move it down the street where it’ll be closer to those medical buildings. I’m not ready yet, but maybe in a few years.” Dexter sat cross-legged in the garden next to where Jean was pulling pumpkins out for the fall festival tomorrow.
“What about the building?” She gripped a pumpkin tight in her hands. “You selling that then too?”
He grinned. “Always get straight to the point, don’t you?”
“Never been the type to beat around the bush, despite my occupational interest in shrubberies.”
He laughed. “I’m not going to sell my half of the building. Don’t you worry. Marshall wants to get into the restaurant business someday. And I want him to have a plan to get out of the getting-hit-in-the-head-over-and-over-again business.”
“Marshall cooks?” She’d never been able to hide an opinion about anything.
“He’s got a friend who’s getting a degree in restaurant management.
I figure owning the building would set him up real good.
Better space for a restaurant than a pharmacy, to tell you the truth.
But I made it work. Since retiring from the league, he needs something.
” He lifted a pumpkin and put it in her wheelbarrow.
“What about you, Gallagher Jean, you thinking about retirement?”
“Bite your tongue, Dexter Greene. I’m not old like you.”
“I’m three years older.”
Jean scoffed. “A generation difference.”
“Sure you wouldn’t want to sell this place and go travel with me? Just was reading about some river cruises in Europe.”
She scowled and returned to her pumpkins. “You go to your river cruise. I’ll stay right here.”
“Offer stands if you change your mind,” he said, getting to his feet. “We could see the world.”
“My world’s right here, you old fool.” She sank her trowel into the autumn earth. “Someone’s going to have to keep an eye on Marshall. He’s too nice, poor kid. Just like his momma and daddy.”
“That almost sounded like a compliment, Jeannie.”
“Key word there’s almost.” She pulled out another pumpkin and stacked it on the others. “Just bring me back some of that good European chocolate whenever you decide to fly off into the sunset.”
“I can do that.” He let the gate close behind him and jaunted off back to his house.
THE BAGGED SOIL SECTION OF A CLUTTERED PLANT SHOP.
“That boy seemed unhappy with you.” Dexter came out of the shadows in the back of the store. He’d probably heard the whole thing. Nosy bastard. He strode to the front of the store, looking out the glass. “Almost hit my car on his way out. What’d he steal?”
“He didn’t steal nothing. Since you were obviously listening, I bet you know that already.”
Dexter put down a box of chocolates by the register.
Jean grinned. She’d stopped trying to hide the way she felt when he brought these back for her. “My dentist will not be happy with you.”
“What would an old dentist know anyhow. Best Swiss chocolates money can buy. They gotta be worth a few teeth.” He pointed out the window. “So what do you think will happen there? That’s the boy Felicity was mooning about since last—”
“Yep.” She closed her register drawer harder than strictly necessary, cutting him off. “If it’s meant to be, they’ll find their way back to each other.”
“Never took you to be the kind of woman to believe in fate.”
“Never said I did.” She went to the window still holding the orchid. “But I do believe things can grow.”
“Funny you should say that.”
“Why, Dexter Greene, you’ve never accused me of being funny before.”
“Funny-looking, maybe.”
“Get out of here, you old grump. Thanks for the chocolate, but I don’t need your sass today.”
He put his hand over hers. “Paul wasn’t a prince, Jeannie.”
Jean had lived her life making everything around her bloom.
She’d watched plants sprout and petals unfurl.
She hadn’t noticed that her own heart had become some dry, dusty thing until she saw that lonely girl in pigtails reading in a tree.
Maybe Felicity had started it all. Like seeds soaked in water.
Because the way that old man was looking at her was like June sunshine on a sugar snap pea.
Maybe this old gal had some blossoming left in her after all.
A SPRING EVENING INSIDE A QUIET, COZY COTTAGE IN KANSAS.
Dexter helped Jean up the stairs to the bed they’d shared in secret for thirteen years. Dexter spent half his time traveling, but when he came home, he came home to her. Always with chocolates.
No one knew.
Except poor old Doc Powell, who they’d scandalized one morning when he caught them canoodling beneath the jasmine in the garden.
Dexter was happy to have an excuse to hand that big empty brick house down to his youngest nephew.
Zachary was hit hard by the downturn last year.
His wife had lost her job, and they were making it work even with all those kids, but if Dexter could make it a little easier for them, he was happy to do so.
Dexter’s daughter never needed help. And Marshall was having a tough time, but he couldn’t fix that situation.
He’d cared for Jean the best he could.
But she was a stubborn woman.
Dexter never could resist a stubborn woman.
That night he tucked her small body into bed and nestled in beside her.
“That boy came by again today? What’s that, thirteen years he’s been visiting you now?”
“You know he did.”
Dexter hugged her tighter. “Figured as much.”
“Good to know there are things I can depend on.” She touched the beard she had convinced him to grow.
“Speaking of which.” He squeezed her hand. “You ready to marry me yet, Gallagher Jean?”
“Almost.”