The anything box by Zenna Henderson

Author:Zenna Henderson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Space Opera, Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, General, Short Stories
Publisher: Doubleday
Published: 1965-10-15T07:00:00+00:00

The Grunder

Almost before Crae brought the car to a gravel-spraying stop in front of the Murmuring Pines Store and Station, Ellena had the door open and was out and around the corner marked His and Hers. Crae stared angrily after her, his jaw set and his lips moving half-audibly. Anger burned brightly in his brain and the tight, swollen sickness inside him throbbed like a boil. It was all her fault— all because she had to smile at every man—she had to entice every male—she always—! And then the fire was gone and Crae slumped down into the ashes of despair. It was no use. No matter how hard he tried—no matter what he did, it always ended this way.

This was to have been it. This trip into the White Mountains—a long happy fishing trip for the two of them to celebrate because he was learning to curb his jealousy, his blind, unreasoning, unfounded jealousy that was wrecking everything he and Ellena had planned for a life together. It had gone so well. The shadowy early morning beginning, the sweep up the hills from the baking, blistering valley, the sudden return to spring as they reached pine country, the incredible greenness of everything after the dust and dryness of the desert.

And then they had stopped at Lakeside.

She said she had only asked how the fishing was. She said they had known the same old-timers. She said—! Crae slid lower in the car seat, writhing inside as he remembered his icy return to the car, his abrupt backing away from the laughing group that clustered around Ellena's window, his measured, insane accusations and the light slowly dying out of Ellena's eyes, the quiet, miserable turning away of her white face and her silence as the car roared on—through hell as far as the two of them were concerned—through the rolling timberland to Murmuring Pines.

Crae wrenched himself up out of his futile rememberings and slid out of the car, slamming the door resoundingly. He climbed the three steps up to the sagging store porch and stopped, fumbling for a cigarette.

"Wife trouble?"

Crae started as the wheezy old voice from the creaking rocking chair broke through his misery. He stared over his half-raised cigarette into the faded blue eyes that peered through dirty bifocals at him. Then he put the cigarette in his mouth and cupped his palms around his light.

"What's it to you?" he half snapped, but even his hair-triggered temper seemed to have deserted him.

"Nothing, son, nothing." The chair rocked violently, then slowed down. "Only thing is, I kinda wondered, seeing her kite outa the car like that and you standing there, sulling up. Sit down a spell. I'm Eli. Old Eli."

Inexplicably, Crae sat down on the top step and said, "You're right, Eli. Plenty of trouble, but it's me—not my wife."

"Oh, that-a-way." The frowsy old head nodded.

"Yeah," muttered Crae, wondering dismally why he should be spilling his guts to a busted-down old coot like this one. "Jealous, crazy jealous."

"Can't trust her, huh?" The chair rocked madly a moment, then slowed again.

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