by Belva Plain
The potatoes were on the kitchen table. Julie had not peeled them. I don’t recognize these children, Margaret thought; I feel as if I’m swimming against the tide and can’t get anywhere. She went to the foot of the stairs to summon Julie.
“Please come down and peel the potatoes,” she called. “I asked you this morning to have them ready for me.”
“Well, I forgot,” Julie called back.
She looked sullen and unkempt. Her tawny hair—Adam’s hair—had obviously not been washed all week. A mother was not supposed to nag, but what else could she do when no one paid attention anymore unless she did nag? And deciding to forget the hair for the moment, Margaret spoke pleasantly.
“Well, anyone can forget. So do them for me, will you? I’m going to broil some chicken on the grill and make the salad while you set the table.”
It was strange that the absence of just one person had made the dining room feel too large. Yet it seemed important to keep the family’s habits as unchanged as possible, to say, in effect: We are not going to weaken simply because he has left us.
At half past six, at seven, at seven-fifteen, Megan had not come home. Margaret paced the front porch to search up and down the street. Behind her, silent and round eyed, stood Danny and Julie.
Margaret talked to herself. “I can’t imagine where she is. I phoned the dentist, the office is closed, I can’t imagine …” Her heart pounded.
It was dark, and she was about to call the police, when Fred Davis, in his van with Megan beside him, drew into the driveway.
“Oh,” Megan cried, “where were you? I called and there was no answer. Then I only had a quarter left, so I called Uncle Fred, and he came for me. All of a sudden in the middle of downtown in all the traffic, the car just stopped! It was awful, cars honking at me as if it was my fault! Then the police came and pushed it out of the way, and I didn’t know what—where were you, Mom?”
“Come sit down. We must have been outside at the grill, so nobody heard the phone. Listen to me. As long as you weren’t hurt, nothing matters. What was the trouble with the car?”
“It had to be towed,” Fred explained. “The transmission fell out.”
“I don’t know what I would have done if Uncle Fred hadn’t come,” Megan said, almost wailing. “He took care of everything.”
A warm sensation of relief flooded through Margaret, and she looked at Fred. “You always do take care of things. Thank you,” she said. “Let’s all go in and have supper. Will you stay, Fred? The supper’s sort of wilted by now, so you will have to excuse it.”
At the table Fred, in the seat that had been Adam’s, explained the situation.
“A new transmission will cost twelve hundred dollars, they told me. There’s a question, though, whether it’s worth putting that much into a fairly old car. You’ll need to give it some thought.”
“Fairly old!” Danny blurted. “It’s ancient. Nobody around here keeps a wreck like that. Let’s get a new car, Mom.”
Poor innocent, thought Margaret. And she said quietly, “I wish it was that easy, Danny.”
“I told Dad we needed a car. He took the good one and left us with a—a jalopse.”
“You mean ‘jalopy,’ ” Julie said.
“What’s the difference? Stop correcting me, smartass.”
“Your language, Daniel,” Margaret said.
The boy needed a man, a father.
“He’s right, though,” Megan said. “Dad took care of himself and didn’t worry about us.”
“I told him!” Danny shouted. “And then she said he needs one to go to work, and she said I should remember that if he didn’t work, we’d be in real trouble.”
This discussion ought to be dropped at once. Yet Margaret could not keep herself from asking, “What did your father say then?”
“Nothing.”
Fred asked quickly, “Who wants to go to the football game with me Saturday afternoon?”
Danny’s and Julie’s hands went up, and Megan declined.
“Thanks so much, Uncle Fred, but I have to work on my English paper.”
Margaret objected, “You said it wasn’t due till the middle of November. Go to the game, it’ll be fun.”
“Mom, I can’t afford to. I need straight A’s if I’m going to get anywhere with my life.”
Fred’s glance met Margaret’s. Poor kid, the glances said.
“Okay, another time. Why don’t you three clean up the kitchen and then go do your homework?” he suggested. “I can see that as usual your mother has a pile of papers to do. So I’m going to go home and get out of her way.”
“You’re hardly in my way, Fred,” Margaret told him.
At the front door he paused to say, “I didn’t want to mention this at the table, but really, Margaret, you need a new car, and I’ll be glad to help you out with whatever you need.”
His mild eyes seemed to be pleading with her. The genuine goodness of this man brought the start of tears to her own eyes. But there was within her a stubborn independence that forbade her, perhaps against her better judgment, to accept aid. Louise and Gilbert, even Nina, young and striving as she was, had made loving offers that she had turned down.
“I know you,” Fred said, “so if it will make you feel better, let’s say it’s a loan. You will repay me whenever you can.”
She smiled. “I know you, too. You’re a dear, and I thank you, but it is Adam’s job to take care of us. After nineteen years I think he owes a car to his wife and his three children.”
“But if he will not? Have you talked to Larkin?”
“Many times, and the answer is that Adam is giving all he can. He’s only paid for half my insurance on this car, so maybe he’ll pay half on the transmission. Maybe. In the end I’ll have to wait for the final settlement when we go to court.”
“Are you satisfied with Larkin? If not, my feelings won’t be hurt just because I’m the one who recommended him.”
“I’m satisfied. I like him very much.”
“Good. Well, chin up, Margaret.” He kissed her cheek and went down the walk.
For a moment she watched him go. His erect height, his wide shoulders, his very stride, gave an effect of confidence and rocklike security. But on particular occasions his eyes, with their mild, thoughtful gaze, said something different. And she reflected that, although he had for so long been there on the fringe of her life, she really did not know him very well. She did not even know what his feelings toward her might now be, not that it mattered. Regardless of whatever exterior strength she had mastered, inside she was damaged and suffering; her nightly dreams were of Adam, of bereavement, betrayal, and sorrow.
On the desk in the den her work was waiting, a pile of quiz papers to be graded, the first quiz of the season, given to learn how much the class remembered of what it had studied so far. They were bright kids in this class, nice kids. This year, though, as she stood before them looking at their faces turned toward her, she often considered the possibility of concealed heartache. She had really never thought much about that until this year.
Now, to the left of the desk, she could see through the door into the living room, where Adam’s new computer and shelves of software were housed. He hadn’t asked for them. And if he does, she thought fiercely, he isn’t going to get them. They belong to my children.
Her mind was agitated. There was all this work to be done before midnight, so she must quiet her mind. Tomorrow morning she would order a transmission. It would take a nice chunk out of her savings, even if he should pay half.
Damn him! Damn the laws that made it so hard for a woman to get what was due her!
On the table facing her desk stood the family photographs. There was more space, now that Adam’s picture and the bridal photograph had been removed, to see what remained. In front was her father’s young face; she had not known him, and yet because of her mother, she could almost believe that she had. Mom had talked about him so much, remembering him with sweetness and laughing often over funny thing
s that had happened to them together.…
Death is easier than this, Margaret thought. There is nothing sweet or funny about this. Then, switching on the desk light, she went to work.
TWENTY-ONE
Adam felt his mouth stretching into an artificial smile, his whole manner forcing a bright enthusiasm that he did not feel. In reality he was tense because the children’s visit was not going the way it should. It hadn’t gone exactly as he had wished the last time either.
“Queen Anne’s lace is in the carrot family,” he explained. “You wouldn’t think so to look at it, would you?”
“It’s ugly,” Julie said.
“That’s because it’s dried and dead. You need to see it in August when it’s blooming.”
He had taken them for a walk into the upland meadow that lay between the river and the woodland patch around the house. Randi, making lunch, liked to get them out of the kitchen.
“I think, but I’m not sure, that it was actually developed by botanists. It might be interesting to look it up.”
But they were not interested. Their gaze was fixed instead on Rufus, whose head was barely visible above the tall brown grass through which he appeared to be swimming.
“Well,” Adam said, “I guess we should go back. Randi has probably got lunch ready.”
“Why can’t we eat outside?” Danny demanded, seeing that the picnic table was empty.
“It’s too chilly. It’s the end of November,” Adam answered.
“No, it’s not. It’s hot in the sun. I could even take my sweater off.”
“Call Rufus and come inside. Don’t complain, Danny.”
The boy had an unbecoming pout, something brand new, Adam thought.
At the lunch table Randi addressed Julie, “I’m sorry you don’t like the piano. When I saw it at a house sale, I thought of you. And it fits perfectly in the cellar. Sometime soon we plan to make a gorgeous recreation room down there.”
At Julie’s failure to respond Adam said quickly, “It was so good of you to think of Julie. I’m sure she’ll use it whenever she decides to start playing again. But we won’t rush you, Julie.”
“I don’t know,” Randi said, smiling. “I think she just doesn’t like the piano. It’s not nice enough for her. Am I right, Julie?”
A flush appeared over the girl’s cheeks, and raising her eyes toward her father, she murmured, “I just don’t want to play.”
It was all quietly polite. And yet the atmosphere was unnatural. The small talk that followed this exchange was meaningless, merely a time-filler. And he missed them so! They hadn’t had Thanksgiving with him, and they wouldn’t have Christmas. Children went with the mother. So his thoughts ran.
When lunch was over, the two children went outside while Adam and Randi had coffee.
“I really did think Julie would be pleased with the piano,” Randi began.
If she would only drop the subject! It had been kind of her to buy the thing; obviously, though, she did not realize that it was an ancient, jangling wreck that had never amounted to much when it was new. At home Julie had her mother’s baby grand, meticulously kept, a gift from Jean in the prosperous days of her second marriage.
“Don’t feel bad,” he said patiently. “She’s very upset right now.”
“Well, it’s trying to see a kid sitting there moping. She scarcely says a word.”
“It’s been awfully hard for her, Randi. I knew there would be some effects, of course, but I didn’t expect her to take this so hard.”
“For heaven’s sake, you haven’t died or been put in federal prison, Adam. The fact is, darling, your kids are spoiled.”
“No, Randi. They’ve got their faults, as we all have, but they’re not spoiled.”
“Tell me why Danny has to lug that dog along everywhere he goes.”
“He doesn’t take it everywhere. He takes him here so he can have a good run. Besides, the dog is a comfort to him now.”
“Comfort! You’d think he was being tortured. Your kids have it pretty good, darling. You’re just a sweet soul, Adam Crane, just too darn softhearted for your own good.”
He felt hurt. And yet it was true that neither Danny nor Julie had been exactly endearing today. On the other hand, why should they always be on their best behavior? But, back to the other hand, it was true that Randi was always lovely to them. And she hadn’t had any experience with teenagers.… And no doubt it was an imposition to expect her to entertain them every Sunday.… Although there was really no other time for him to see them except on the weekends.… And she was so even tempered, so sweet, so rarely the least bit cranky. Surely, she was entitled to have an opinion about the kids.…
“Oh, now I’ve upset you,” she murmured. “You’re thinking I don’t like your children.” She got up from her chair and took his face between her hands to kiss him. “Darling, I’m sorry. You know I like them. For heaven’s sake, they’re yours! But can’t I feel free to express myself honestly sometimes? Anything I say is for your good. Please don’t misunderstand. I love your kids! Tell me you’re not upset. Please?”
“I’m not upset.”
“Truly. Smile when you say it. Please?”
He smiled.
They were quiet on the ride home. Danny wanted music on the radio, some singing group with one of those crazy names that Adam could never remember, the Cemetery Bouncers, or something equally crazy. Ordinarily, their racket would lift off the top of his head, but today, full of thoughts, he was almost grateful for them.
The hardest thing about this homeward ride was seeing the two go up the walk to the front door of what had once been his home. At the curb he was about to say as usual, “See you Sunday,” when Danny turned back and asked, “Are you ever going to go in with us?”
“Well, we’ll see,” he replied, knowing that Danny, walking away, had recognized the answer for the fatuous evasion that it was.
The car had begun to roll when he saw Megan approaching from the end of the street. She was carrying books, so that he guessed she had come from the library. His heart leapt. She was lovely in her dark blue skirt and sweater with her long hair, still wheat colored from the summer’s sun, lying on her shoulders. He hadn’t seen her since the day he left. Sliding over to the passenger’s side, he leaned out of the window and called, “Megan! Megan! How are you?”
She stopped. “Wonderful,” she said coldly. “How do you think I am?”
“Not very well, I know. I worry terribly about you. But we can’t talk here. Won’t you please come with Julie and Danny to see me?”
“No, not at that woman’s house. You can’t be serious.”
“Don’t say that, Megan. Randi’s a good person, kind, warmhearted.”
“Oh, yes, warm like a cobra. And you ask me to be civil to her after what she’s done?”
He was tired, so tired. How was he even to begin to explain himself to this young daughter?
“What she—and you—have done to Mom, who is so brave! You threw her away as if she were a used paper towel. You don’t care about her at all.”
“I do care very much about her, Megan.”
The girl’s eyes flashed. “Then why don’t you come home? We could start again—we could all love each other again—” Her voice broke.
“Megan, I can’t. It’s not so simple. I can’t explain.… You don’t understand.”
“Is that all you can say? ‘You don’t understand’? You’re right. I don’t understand how you can turn your back on us and walk away. Sometimes I wake up at night and think I’ve only been dreaming that you’ve done it.”
Her eyes were fixed upon him; her body was stiff and tense. And he knew that she was waiting for the answer he was unable to give, knew that she was in pain. A few seconds passed, while he watched the hope die on her face.
“You don’t even support us decently,” she cried then. “That old rattletrap car.”
Adam interrupted. “I paid half the cost of the transmission.”
“
It’s still an old rattletrap. And we need winter clothes. And the lawn mower’s too heavy for Danny. What’s going to happen to us?”
He pleaded. “I’ll do more. I’ll try. I know you need things, but I’m spending all I can. I have no extra money right now, nothing to spare. Really not.”
“You have money enough for her.”
“That’s not—who told you that?”
“Don’t tell me you live there for nothing. And you bought her a gold bracelet and afterward a gold necklace for her birthday. Mom never had things like that.”
Randi must have shown them to Julie, he thought. A weight sank inside his chest. It was all so complicated, so difficult.
Megan’s bright, frightened eyes were fixed upon him. “The way you’ve made all of us so sad,” she said, “even a thirteen-year-old boy like Danny. He used to be jolly and funny, but not anymore. And it’s all your fault! Do you want to know something? I despise you and your dirty woman with you.”
She walked away.
That he had lived to hear the vituperation, this outburst, from his beloved child, his Megan! Megan was even tempered, cerebral, prudent.… Megan was a gem.…
And wondering how he would manage to drive back without having an accident, he shifted gears and moved slowly away. It seemed to him that no matter how he tried, he would never be able to make her or perhaps anyone else ever understand. Even at the office he had caught glances, and even once in the washroom had overheard remarks.
“I hear he’s getting a divorce.”
“She’s probably better off without him, the cold son of a gun.”
“I always liked Margaret.”
The fools! What did they know about it? It was none of their business. They were, all of them, a superficial, antiintellectual lot of money-grubbers, anyway.
Some of them had real power, nevertheless. Hierarchy gave them the right to humble and humiliate. Even Ramsey, who was generally fair and quiet-spoken, had given him a nasty turn last week. He flinched now as he remembered the Monday morning, when after a late night, he and Randi had both overslept.
“What can you be thinking of, Crane? Half an hour late for an appointment with a man who stands to give us two hundred thousand in business! He flies in from Chicago and you keep him waiting! Punctuality is a matter of common courtesy, no matter who the person is, but here it almost looked as if you were indifferent.…” And so on, and so on.
