And now he had. Not in the pages of a distant newspaper, but in the flesh, in his hometown. How ironic that in all those years in Chicago he had never once thought to buy and read the New Orleans Times-Picayune. Now it lay scattered around him, partially read and totally unabsorbed.
“Justin?”
He met the glance of his mother, who was standing in the doorway. Louise Dumontier was regarding her son with a concerned expression. At seven-thirty she was already dressed impeccably for the mass she would attend at ten o’clock. An attractive woman, with the particular well-kept look of the wealthy, Louise Dumontier was exhibiting none of her usual poise.
Justin stood, motioning to the chair beside him as he cleared the table. “Sit down, Mother.”
She sat with regal grace, spoiled only by a hesitant glance at her son. “You’re up so early.”
“I always get up early.”
“But today’s Sunday. And you went to bed so late last night.”
“I always go to bed late.”
She sighed, as if to give up trying to tactfully coax information from him. “Justin, is something bothering you?”
His best answer was the tightening of the muscle in his jaw.
“I know it’s probably none of my business—” she covered his hand with her own diamond laden one “—but can I help?”
He shook his head firmly. “No.” The expression on her face was so heavy with disappointment he relented. “Not now. Perhaps later, after I’ve had time to sort out everything.”
His reward was the brightness of her smile. “Well, then, can I interest you in going to church with me today?”
“I’m going in to the office. I’ve got a lot to do there.”
Mrs. Dumontier shook her head. “That’s where your father took his problems, too. Whenever we quarreled he packed up and headed to work. Sometimes I wouldn’t see him for days.”
Justin looked at his mother with surprise and tried to remember another time when she had admitted that she and his father had actually quarreled like normal people. “I don’t remember that,” he said finally.
“More often after Marie. . . died.” She cleared her throat. “He was gone so much, anyway, you probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
Was her voice actually tinged with dissatisfaction? Justin turned his hand to grasp hers and squeeze it. “Did that bother you?”
She seemed startled by the personal question, and hesitated, as if trying to figure how to turn the tide of the conversation. Finally she sighed again. “Yes, quite a lot, as a matter of fact. Through the years your father grew harder and harder to reach. Truthfully? Sometimes now I forget he’s gone forever. My days haven’t changed as much as you might think.”
He was astonished, and he had no idea what to say. He’d never thought of his parents as happy or unhappy. Just . . . there.
She went on. “If you ever marry, I hope you’ll be able to share your thoughts and feelings. In the greater scheme of things, sharing who you are must be what makes this life worth it all.”
The room grew gradually lighter as they sat quietly. Finally he squeezed her hand again as he stood. “I hope sometime I have the chance to find that out for myself,” he said as he bent to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Although the one remaining New Orleans streetcar ran directly in front of his house, Justin drove to work, parking his car in the garage next to the building housing his father’s law office. He was teetering between giving Bethany more time to make a decision and forcing her to allow him to see his daughter. He wanted his car on hand in case he was able to make up his mind. The realization that he was unsure of how to handle this situation gnawed at him, creating a tension inside that matched the tension of the situation itself. Yet he was no closer to knowing what was best than he had been during his sleepless night.
When his private phone rang at eleven o’clock, he had just been able to settle down and concentrate on the brief in front of him. With annoyance he answered it.
“Justin?”
He had forgotten how sweet Bethany’s voice was on the telephone. He had often thought that even if he had never seen her, her voice alone would conjure up a body and a face no different from the real thing. He was swept by a surprising and unwelcome warmth. “Yes, Bethany.”
“I got this number from someone at your house. . . I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
You’ve never done anything except disturb me. “Of course not. Is anything wrong?’’
She hesitated as if trying to figure out his meaning. “Do you mean with Abby? No, she’s fine. She’s spending the weekend with my business partner, Madeline.” There was another short silence. “Justin, I’d. . . I’d like to see you today, if I could.”
“When and where?”
She hesitated again. “Well, anytime is fine. Abby won’t be home until five o’clock. I could come there, or you could come here. . .no, I guess that’s not such a good idea,” she said, as if thinking aloud.
He winced, aware of the damage his tirade against the Quarter had caused. “I’d be glad to come there, Bethany. But better yet, why don’t we meet on neutral ground. Have you had lunch yet?”
“I haven’t eaten.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon and we can go out.” The thought of their last meal in the smoky bar off Royal made him change his mind.
“Better yet, wear something casual, and we can drive out to the lake. I’ll pick up some sandwiches.”
“Are you sure you want to go to all that trouble?”
This time he paused. “You’ve always worried about causing me trouble, haven’t you?” There was no answer and he said gently, “Noon, Bethany,” before he replaced the receiver.
* * *
SHE HAD AN hour to decide how to dress for her picnic with Justin. Finally settling on a gauze blouse with billowing sleeves and black form-fitting jeans, Bethany stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, brushing her hair hard enough to sting her scalp. She was satisfied with everything she saw except for the circles under her eyes. Justin would take one look at her and see the turmoil she was undergoing.
When the buzzer sounded she pushed a button by the front door, leaving it depressed long enough to allow him to swing open the iron gate to one side of the courtyard. She locked her door securely behind her, and met him at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who doesn’t keep me waiting,” he said as he watched her walk toward him.
She smiled hesitantly, at a loss for words. He was dressed in a white knit shirt with a crawfish embroidered on the pocket, the New Orleans answer to the popular alligator or polo pony. He was also wearing crisp, dark-blue jeans.
“Do you know,” she said without thinking about how it sounded, “I’ve never seen you in blue jeans, Justin. You look terrific.” The instant the words were uttered she felt foolish. She had called him so they could come to an understanding about their daughter, and here she was complimenting him.
He, too, seemed surprised. “I’m not quite the conservative gentleman you imagine. I’ve actually got more than one pair of jeans. I don’t wear three-piece suits when I’m having fun.”
Unfortunately she remembered exactly what he had worn five years ago when they had been having fun. Nothing. “I think your impression of my impression. . .” She gave up at the smile on his face. “Where’s your car?”
“Six blocks away. This place is crowded even on Sundays.”
They walked there in silence, although after the first block Justin steered her to the window of one shop, pointing out a display of masks. “Are any of these yours?”
“The big one on permanent display in the corner is.” She pointed to a feathered mask done in Lady Amherst pheasant, similar to the one the old man had destroyed. “It was one of the first feathered masks I ever did. It bought Abby and me enough groceries for three weeks, and I was very proud.”
She looked up into his unsmiling eyes, and realized
how her remark had sounded, but there was nothing to say in defense. They had been poor; there had been times when providing for Abby had been difficult. She couldn’t lie to him, and she couldn’t live those years over again. All she could do was tell the truth. “Justin, if it had ever been really critical, if we had ever stood on the brink of starvation, I would have come to you.”
“I wonder,” was all he replied.
His car, when they reached it, was what she’d expected, a dark-blue Mercedes sedan, built to last forever. He opened her door and helped her in, dropping her arm at the first opportunity. She knew he was still angry.
Why am I so concerned about his feelings, she wondered as they sped toward Lake Ponchartrain. Was he concerned about mine? When he left me, did he think about the damage he was doing? Was I ever more than just a warm body to make love to?
But trying to whip herself into an angry frenzy was useless. Justin had every cause to be upset. Little by little over the past week she had begun to understand some part of his feelings. Now, sitting in the car beside him, she felt the entire weight of them surround her. For the first time she was faced with the enormity of the mistake she had made.
Reaching out, she put her hand on his shoulder for a moment, surprising them both. “Justin, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know how I could have done such a terrible thing.”
There was no answer from the driver’s seat, but he seemed to relax a little. She was far from being forgiven, but the barriers between them seemed a little less impenetrable. Closing her eyes, she lay back.
* * *
“DO YOU ALWAYS fall asleep instantly like that?”
Bethany awoke slowly. She was curled up snugly on the seat of a very comfortable car. An arousing male voice buzzed against her ear, and the man smelled the way she remembered Justin smelling. It was a combination of cleanliness, of expensive soap and male skin. She yawned and stretched, not wanting to look to the side and be disappointed. It wasn’t the first dream that had ended that way.
“Bethany?”
She turned, wondering at the familiar voice. Only Justin called her by her full name. She was “Beth” to everyone else.
His voice was relaxed and tinged with humor. “Do you know where you are?”
She sat up straight, shaking her head groggily. “Give me a minute, and I’m bound to figure it out.”
“We’re at Lake Ponchartrain, and although this may be hard to believe, you’ve only been asleep for about fifteen minutes.”
“That’s fifteen minutes more than I got last night,” she said, stretching again. “At this rate I may get a full eight hours by the beginning of the next century.”
He held out his hand and stood next to her, helping her from the car. The surprising thing was that he didn’t drop her hand immediately. Instead he continued holding it as he stroked the side of her face with his fingertips. “You looked like a little girl.”
The caress made her feel less like a little girl than anything imaginable. For a moment she leaned toward him, her eyes closed again. When he stopped, her eyes flew open and she stepped backward, uncertain and amazed at her own behavior. “Well, I’m awake now,” she said finally.
There was a faint smile on his beautifully chiseled lips. “Let’s find a place to eat.”
The lakeside was alive with cruising cars and groups of picnickers. The day was fairly warm, and the sun streamed down to highlight the white sails of boats far out against the horizon. The lake itself was large enough to seem an endless expanse of sparkling blue water. Because there were only a few yards of land between the lake and the road running around it, they spread a blanket halfway up one of the banks of the levee, overlooking the water. The spot was also far enough away from blaring car radios and flying Frisbees to be comfortable.
She was the first to speak. “It’s beautiful here. Thank you for bringing me.”
He watched with surprise as she took in the sights and sounds. “You haven’t been here before?”
She shook her head, breathing deeply. The air was tinged with salt. “I don’t have a car, so I’m dependent on the bus or my friends. I just didn’t realize this was so special, or Abby and I would have made the trip across town.” Face turned toward the sunshine, his question came as a complete surprise.
“What do you do in emergencies?”
His tone caused her to turn to him. “I haven’t had many.”
“Aren’t you in rather a precarious position without a car?”
Shrugging, she searched his eyes for an explanation. “It can be awkward sometimes, but I’ve always managed.”
“You know as well as I do New Orleans’ public transportation system is inadequate at best and sometimes even dangerous. What if Abby were suddenly ill?”
“Justin, I know it would be better—safer, maybe—if I had my own transportation. But there are taxis, ambulances, friends. I just can’t afford my own car right now. The gas and insurance would ruin me financially.”
Judging from what was now a familiar look of disapproval, she had a feeling the afternoon was destined to go down in defeat before she could tell him why she had asked for this meeting.
“Look,” she started, “let’s eat, and I’ll tell you why I called. Then if you still want to, I’ll give you fifteen whole minutes to criticize my life-style. If that’s not long enough, then we’ll have to make arrangements to continue another time. I’m not sure I can handle all your cold-blooded inquiries in one day.”
Without a word he reached for the bag he had carried up the hill. Inside were two sandwiches wrapped in white butcher’s paper and a six-pack of beer. He handed her one.
“An oyster po’boy? That’s my favorite.” She chewed as she watched him open a can of beer and pass it to her. “I’m surprised,” she said honestly. “I never imagined you like this.”
“Like what?” he said, lounging on the blanket as he unwrapped his sandwich.
“Eating po’boys up on the levee. Wearing blue jeans and crawfish shirts. Acting like a real N’Awlins native.”
“I am a real N’Awlins native.”
“I thought you had rejected all this.”
An explosion of feeling flew across his face. She felt as though she were caught in a whirlwind, but she blinked, and when she opened her eyes, his expression was neutral again. They sat chewing thoughtfully, washing down the sandwiches with ice-cold Dixie, the popular local beer.
“Why did you call?” he asked at last.
She swallowed the final bite of her sandwich nervously. Now that the time had come, she wasn’t sure how to begin. “I’ve done nothing but think about this since I saw you last Saturday.” She cleared her throat, willing the lump in it to disappear. “I told you in the car I was sorry. I meant it. All these years I’ve refused to think about how unfair my actions were.”
“You never gave it a thought?’’
“Sometimes I did. But at first I had no idea what an incredible experience having a child would be. I knew I wanted to have our baby and raise it, but I just had no idea what it could mean. I told myself you would be better off not having the burden of a child you didn’t plan for in your life.”
“And later?”
Bethany stared out at the lake, watching the sailboats dance against the sky. “Later, when I let myself think about it, I realized what I was cheating you out of. But I thought it was too late, and I was too proud.” She turned to him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I can’t make up any of the years you’ve missed, but I can share her remaining years. Abby is your daughter. She deserves to have you in her life.”
Justin was reclining on one elbow, tracing patterns in the blanket with his index finger. She watched him, waiting for his answer. His black hair had fallen over one eye, giving his face a boyish look that softened his angular features. The bright sunlight gave his skin a burnished polish, and she was suddenly aware just how much of him was a part of their daughter.
“You’ll love her, Justin. And she’ll
love you. The two of you are so much alike,” she said impulsively.
He looked at her then, raising the dark eyes that were the original version of Abby’s, to meet hers. “Tell me about her,” he said.
How could she catch him up on four years? What could she say in a minute or an hour or even a week that would adequately introduce him to his daughter?
She began anyway. “She’s bright. Sometimes she scares me with how bright. She understands so much already. She senses what’s going on around her better than most adults do. She’s very pretty, but that’s not the most noticeable thing about her. I think the first thing people notice is how much energy she has. She wears me to a frazzle sometimes.” She paused, trying to smile at him. “What else?”
“How is she going to react to having a father in her life?”
Bethany looked away, feeling for the right answer. “It’s going to be hard for her to understand. When she’s asked about you, Justin, I’ve told her you had to go away before she was born and that you weren’t able to come back.”
“At least you didn’t tell her I was dead.”
“This may be hard to believe, under the circumstances,” she said softly, “but I try not to lie if I can help it.”
He sat up, grasping his knees with his hands. “How do you propose we work out custody?”
A prickle of fear shot through her. “I want custody, of course. But I’ll be glad to let you see her almost anytime. After she gets to know you, then I’m sure you’ll want to have her visit you in Chicago. And I’ll let her, as long as the arrangements are suitable.”
“So I get to play visiting father. I take her to Disney World, buy her ice-cream cones on Sunday afternoons and pay for her wedding. In the meantime you nurture her, watch her grow, hold her hand when her best friend fights with her or when her first boyfriend is caught kissing somebody else.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.
The Unmasking Page 7
