288: When Herb and Ben ...
Herb ’n’ Lorna, Chapter 7 continues
WHEN HERB AND BEN checked in at the Chacallit House, Ben, full of eagerness and confidence, certain of success, sure of the value of what he had to offer, went off to see Luther at once. Herb, who was not as confident, not at all certain of success in his undertaking, hesitated. He hadn’t told Lorna that he was coming. He’d tried to write, but he hadn’t been able to find a way to say the things that he wanted to say.
He unpacked. He took a bath. He shaved. He dressed, considered the effect in the mirror, didn’t like what he saw, changed, and didn’t like what he saw any better than he had before. Doubts breed rapidly, and they breed fastest in front of a mirror. Herb sighed and let his shoulders fall. He went off to see Lorna reluctantly. What he had to offer her seemed of little value.
He stopped his old Studebaker in front of the house, and he sat for a moment, with both hands on the wheel, trying to think of something to say to Lorna — no, not something — the thing, that remarkable thing that would tell her everything he felt — the word, the phrase, the sentence, the declaration that she would never forget, that she would, years from now, tell their children, their grandchildren. “I’ll never forget,” she would say, “the day that Herb came back to Chacallit. I opened the door, and there he was. He smiled and said — ” What? What?
By the time he reached the Hubers’ door, Herb had begun to think that he should have stayed in Boston. He caught sight of his reflection, and to himself he looked like a thin guy holding a battered hat, wearing a shabby suit and scuffed shoes, with an old heap parked behind him.
Lorna was at home, since she was now unemployed. When the war ended, Lorna had been among the first of the Chacallit women Luther had let go from the main floor. Her parents were puzzled when she didn’t return to ivory work, but at dinner one Sunday, Luther had provided an explanation, one that was false when he offered it but became true in time: he said that the market for expensive jewelry for men was declining, and that he couldn’t very well keep Lorna at work when there were returning veterans without jobs. “Perhaps,” he said, giving Lorna an unwelcome pat on the arm, “things will change, and I’ll find a way to bring Lorna back to work.” She was in the kitchen chopping cabbage when Herb turned the doorbell. She started for the door in her apron, but the thought that had come to her so often came to her again, the thought that this might be Herb, and she quickly untied the apron and threw it onto the kitchen table.
“Herb Piper,” she said when she opened the door, not daring to add what her heart hoped: “You’ve come back to me!”
“I didn’t get killed,” said Herb. They were the first words that came to him, and by them he meant, “I came to see you because you’re always on my mind, even when I’m with someone else. You’re always there. The idea of you comes flickering through, like sunlight through the leaves on a tree.”
Lorna burst out laughing. “I know,” she said. “You used to write to me, remember?” By it she meant, “When you stopped writing, I was afraid I’d never see you again, and then I knew how much I wanted to see you again.”
“I don’t know why I said that,” said Herb. “It was the first thing that came to me.” He meant, “I didn’t have the courage to say any of the things that I wanted to say. To tell you the truth, I’m not even certain just what those things are. I just said whatever popped into my head. Please, please, don’t think I’m a fool.”
Lorna pushed the screen door open and stepped out into the spring air. “I’m glad to see you,” she said, meaning, “I think I love you, Herb.”
“And I’m glad to see you,” said Herb, looking down at his hat in his hands, embarrassed, because he was sure she must be able to tell that he meant to say, “I think I love you, Lorna.”
“How’s your leg?” Lorna asked, instead of saying, “Gee, Herb, you look wonderful! I’m so happy to see you again that I could cry.”
“It’s all right, thanks,” said Herb. “You look well.” (Instead of, “You look beautiful.”)
“Oh, I’ve been fine.” (“I missed you.”)
“Good.” (“I missed you.”)
“Yes.”
“You — um — didn’t get married or anything like that, did you?”
“No. I would have told you so if I had.”
“You would?”
“Well, I — I would have because, well, because you’re my employer, and you might need to know.”
“Employer?”
“The books,” said Lorna.
“The books,” said Herb. “Of course, the books. How are the books going?”
“Fine. Just fine. Everyone’s pleased. No complaints.”
“Good. Good.”
For a moment, they just stood and smiled at each other.
“So you didn’t get married, then?” Herb reached for her hands.
“No.” Lorna put her hands in his.
Too quickly for fear to stop him, Herb leaned forward and kissed her cheek. It was hardly a kiss at all. His lips just brushed her cheek. As the years passed, Lorna would become less and less sure about her memory of what Herb had said to her when he returned, but she never forgot that wisp of a kiss. It was the unforgettable statement Herb had hoped to make.
[to be continued on Friday, July 1, 2022]
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