Maggie (Tales Behind the Veils)

by Violet Howe

  “Let’s get some sleep, so we have enough energy to keep up with him tomorrow,” she said. “The three musketeers, together again!”

  24 I HAVE A SECRET

  I lay awake long after I said good night to Sandy at the guest room door. It was comforting to have the trio under the same roof again. Well, technically the pool house was a different roof, but still. Having them with me made me feel whole, even if the questions they’d raised had taken me back to memories best left buried.

  They were right.

  I did know something was wrong.

  On some level, I must have.

  Why else would I have kept the relationship secret from my mother?

  It was one thing to pull away from my friends and the other dancers. After all, I was injured. I couldn’t dance. I was resentful and hurt to be excluded from my normal routine, so it was only natural that a new interest would take their place with my time.

  But my mother and I were close. Despite having lived most of my life away from her house, I shared every aspect of it with her. There was nothing I hid. Until Gerry.

  She and my father were in Europe when Gerry and I met the night I was injured. Another piece of the puzzle in creating the perfect storm, I’m sure. If she’d been around, if we’d been having our near daily chats, then I know she would have stepped in earlier.

  As it was, by the time they returned to the States for Thanksgiving, I was already deeply ensnared in his web. Yet, I didn’t mention him. I spent the entire holiday weekend with my parents and never mentioned that for the first time in my life, I was dating someone.

  When they noticed my melancholy mood, they chalked it up to disappointment over the time missed dancing and the loss of the principal role due to my injury. They had no way of knowing I was pining away for Gerry, who had flown home to New York to be with his family for the holiday.

  I couldn’t wait for us to be reunited, and when I met him at the airport for his return flight after the weekend, he promised me we’d never be separated again.

  So needless to say, I reacted with strong emotions when he told me a week later he’d be flying home for Christmas as well.

  “But I thought we’d spend it together,” I said, stunned. “It’s our first Christmas.”

  “So come to New York,” he said, taking both my hands in his and kissing them.

  “I can’t go to New York. It’s Christmas. I have to go to my parents’. They would be devastated if I didn’t come home. Christmas is a very big deal in my house. I told you that.”

  “It’s a big deal for my family, as well, Willow. Look, we’ll have countless Christmases together. The rest of our lives! We can make it through this one apart. Next year, maybe we’ll spend Christmas Eve in New York and then fly to Miami and be with your parents Christmas Day.”

  “Why can’t we do that this year?” I asked, my shoulders fallen as I realized he wasn’t going to give in to my demands.

  “It’s simply not possible this year. Believe me, I wish it was.”

  “So, make it happen. You said my wish was your command.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t twist my words to stab me with them. Your wish is my command. But you owe it to your family to give them Christmas, and I owe the same to mine. I’ll only be gone two weeks, and then I tell you what. When I come back, I won’t even get a hotel. I’ll come unpack my suitcase at your place, and you’ll be sick of seeing me in no time.”

  “This ruins Christmas.”

  “No, no, it doesn’t.” He squeezed me against him, and then leaned back to look at me. “Wait a minute. I’ve got an idea. Let’s go away. The two of us. We’ll take a trip the week before Christmas, and we’ll celebrate it early. Just you and me. What do you say?”

  My spirits lifted at the thought of going away with Gerry. “Where would we go?”

  “Aruba. I want to take you to Aruba. Have you been?”

  “No!” A smile broke through my pouting frown.

  “Oh, God, you’ll love it. The sand glitters. The water is like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

  “Better than South Beach?”

  “Oh, Willow. It puts South Beach to shame. I can’t wait to see you lounging on the beach in a tiny, little bikini.” He moved in closer with his hips, taking my face in his hands as his eyes darkened. “Or diving into the cool waters of a secluded pool surrounded by tropical flowers.” His tongue darted across my lips, and I opened them with a moan. “But my favorite part will be taking that bikini from your body with my teeth and making you cry out my name.” His mouth closed over mine and there was no further discussion.

  We were going to Aruba.

  However, I knew I couldn’t leave the country without telling my parents.

  I put it off as long as I could, waiting until the night before our flight to tell them.

  “So, I’ve met someone,” I said casually as my mom chattered on about the deal she’d found on a handbag. I twisted the phone cord around my finger, staring at the skin as it turned white from the lack of circulation.

  “Oh? Really? That’s wonderful! Tell me about him, dear. What’s his name? Where’d you meet him?”

  “Gerry. Gerry Tucker. I met him at the dance studio.”

  “Oh? He’s a dancer?”

  I hesitated, unsure of how much to tell my mother. The desire to keep things from her was one of the warning signs I ignored.

  “No, he’s a financier. He’s backing our season.”

  “Oh.” Her tone changed. “How old is he?”

  “He’s a bit older, but you’d love him, Mom. I know you would. He’s traveled, like, the whole world, and he does business everywhere, like Dad. He loves the arts. He’s so supportive of my dancing. He tells everyone that I’m a superb dancer.”

  The silence in response was out of character for my mother.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m here. So how long have you known him?”

  “Um, a while. Ernesto introduced us. He knew Gerry, and he’s just a great guy. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  “I see. So, the two of you have been out? On dates?”

  “Yes, and he’s so charming, Mom. He has a friend who has a yacht, and he carries me so I don’t have to walk on the dock with my foot in this stupid boot. I mean, it’s real chivalrous of him. And his friend, Maryann, says that she knows someone in the Paris ballet. She said she might be able to talk to them. Put in a good word for me.”

  “Paris, huh? Why didn’t you mention this gentleman when you were home for Thanksgiving? Were you seeing him then?”

  “Um, yeah. I mean, it wasn’t serious then or anything.” It was the first time I’d ever outright lied to my mother.

  “And now? It’s gotten serious now?”

  I was pacing the floor of my apartment, questioning my decision to bring it up and knowing already from her reaction that she’d never be on board with me going to Aruba with Gerry. What was I thinking? Why did I think she’d be okay with it?

  “Well, yes. It has. We’re in love.”

  “Really? In love. Exactly how long have you been seeing this man? And how old did you say he was?”

  “I don’t see what his age really matters.”

  Her silence sucked the air from the room.

  “Mom, I think you’d really like him. Just wait until you meet him. You’ll see.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s older.”

  “How old?”

  I bit my lip and pressed my forehead against the window as I stared at the drops of rain sliding down the pane. “Thirty-two. But please don’t rush to judge him for that. He’s so good to me.”

  “Thirty-two? He’s a grown man, Margaret. For heaven’s sake.”

  “And I’m a grown woman. I’m nineteen. I’m an adult.” I plopped down on my couch and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I’d never told her a thing.

  She exhaled loudly. “Barely an adult. And a rather sheltered adul
t, at that, though I guess I’m to blame in that regard. How long has this been going on? And why did you not tell me sooner?”

  Guilt fueled my defensiveness. “I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t want to get the third degree like you’re giving me now.”

  “I beg your pardon? Young lady, I’ll ask that you remember who you’re speaking to. I am most certainly in a position to ask questions when my daughter casually tells me she’s in love with someone who’s almost twice her age when I’ve never once heard her mention a boyfriend before. How long have you been seeing this man?”

  “This man? His name is Gerry. And he’s not twice my age.”

  “I want to know how long you’ve been seeing this man and why this is the first I’m hearing of this.”

  “You were out of the country!”

  She sighed, and I could see the exasperation on her face from memory. “And yet we’ve talked how many times since I was back in the country? You were with us for Thanksgiving the entire weekend. Why not have him come over and introduce us then?”

  “He was in New York with his family.”

  “Okay, then have him come over tonight. Your father and I would love to meet him.”

  The tone of her voice didn’t sound at all like that was true.

  “Tonight won’t work. I’ll bring him over soon, I promise.”

  “How about this weekend?”

  I hesitated, unwilling to press forward with my confession about Aruba.

  “Friday night?” she said when I didn’t answer. “Or would Saturday work best? I can cancel our tennis plans on Sunday.”

  Her voice held an edge to it, and I knew she wasn’t being accommodating. She was being determined.

  I swallowed hard and tried to decide what would be worse—telling her I was leaving for Aruba and having her blow up and possibly forbid me to go, or having her somehow find out I went without her knowledge.

  Neither seemed like good options.

  “Margaret? When will you bring this man, this Gerry, to meet us?”

  “Well, we’re actually going out of town this weekend, and then—”

  “Going out of town? Where? Alone?”

  I swallowed again, my mouth completely devoid of saliva. “Aruba.”

  “What?” she shrieked in the phone so loud that I had to pull it away from my ear. “The hell you will. Oh, no, ma’am. You are not going to some island country with a man your father and I have never even met. And after a month of dating? Have you lost your mind? Oh my God, Margaret. Are you sleeping with this man? Oh, God. Oh, God help me.”

  Embarrassment and frustration colored my cheeks and sparked my anger.

  “I am an adult! I don’t need your permission to go out of town with my boyfriend. I have my own apartment and my own job and my own life. I can do what I want.”

  “An apartment I pay for and a life I’ve financed, so you might want to be careful how high and mighty you get, young lady.”

  “I have to go. I should have known better than to try and talk to you. You don’t understand anything. I’ll call you when we get back.”

  I hung up before she could say anything else.

  My father’s phone call was inevitable, and sweat covered my palms as I considered not answering it. Knowing he would probably just drive to my apartment if I didn’t, I went ahead and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Sweetheart, your mother says you’re flying off to Bermuda with some man. Tell me she misunderstood, please.”

  “Aruba.”

  “What?”

  “Aruba. We’re flying to Aruba, and his name is Gerry.”

  “Maggie, what are you talking about? Who is this man? How long have you known him? Why on earth would you fly out of town with someone you’ve barely met? Sweetheart, what’s gotten into you?”

  I was packing my clothes when he called, but somehow cutting the tags off brand-new lacy underthings didn’t seem right while on the phone with my father, so I left the suitcase in the bedroom and sat on the edge of my tub.

  “Dad, I love him. He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, and I want to go away with him.”

  “He can’t be that wonderful if he’d take you out of town without even meeting your parents first. What kind of man would do that? Has he asked to meet us? Why has he not insisted on meeting us? Why would you not insist on that? How long have you been seeing this man?”

  The hurt in my father’s voice cut me like a knife, and my eyes filled with tears.

  “He wants to meet you, I swear. It’s just that you were out of the country, and then he was in New York for Thanksgiving, and then he’ll be gone again for Christmas. This is our only chance to get away, but as soon as—”

  “Your mother says he’s over thirty. Why, Maggie? Ask yourself why a man over thirty would be interested in a nineteen-year-old.”

  The hurt in his voice had become tinged with anger, but his challenge as to Gerry’s interest in me put me on the defensive again.

  “Why can’t you and Mom see that I’m an adult? That I have plenty to offer someone to be interested in? Why are you both hung up on Gerry’s age?”

  “Because I have a pretty good idea of what he’s after, and I’m not sure you realize what that is.”

  I grunted in protest. “He’s not after anything, Dad. We’re in love. We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together.”

  “Oh, Maggie. Don’t do this. Slow this down, sweetheart. Don’t rush into it. You have all the time in the world. And what does the studio say about you going out of town? What about rehearsals?”

  “I’m still on the injured list for a few more days, and Gerry has agreed to back the entire season, so he talked to Ernesto. It’s fine. They’ve cleared me to be gone for the week.”

  “A week?” His voice rose in his growing frustration. “No. I forbid this. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you make this mistake. You’re not thinking clearly. Bring this man to the house this weekend. Let your mother and me meet him, get to know him. Let this thing take its natural course. You’re rushing it.”

  “I’m not! You don’t understand. If you knew him—”

  “But I don’t know him, and neither do you! You’ve lost your mind!”

  I drew back in shock. My father had never spoken to me with so much volume and anger. “How much do you know about him? What could you know in such a short time? About his background? His past? His family? What do you really know?”

  “I know all I need to know. I love Gerry, and he loves me. We’re going to Aruba, and you can’t stop me.”

  “We’ll see about that.” My father hung up on me for the first time in my life, although it wouldn’t be the last, nor would it be the last time Gerry caused it.

  It didn’t matter at the time, though. I packed my bags and took a taxi to Gerry’s hotel, and the next morning, I flew to Aruba with a man I barely knew.

  25 SOCIETY PAGES

  It was surprisingly easy to push my parents to the back of my mind while Gerry and I were in Aruba. In fact, it was easy to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  We stayed up late every night after watching the sun set over the water. We slept in every morning and had breakfast delivered to our own private patio. We swam and lounged in the sun, feeding each other luscious fruits and consuming colorful adult beverages adorned with fancy umbrellas.

  My favorite times were those we spent in the privacy of our bungalow, exploring the many ways two people can give each other pleasure.

  I learned everything I thought I needed to know to be a woman.

  Gerry had the limousine drop me off outside my building when we returned, promising to join me for dinner after he’d made calls and caught up with work.

  I was tired but lighthearted as I exited the elevator in my straw hat and colorful sun-dress, dragging my suitcase behind me.

  When I put the key in the deadbolt of my door, I was shocked to find it unlocked, but nothing compared to my reaction at
seeing my parents seated on the sofa. They looked haggard and pale. Older than when I’d seen them weeks before.

  My mother rushed to greet me and threw her arms around my shoulders, knocking my hat from my head in her exuberance.

  “Oh, thank God. Thank you, Lord. You’re home. You’re safe. Oh, thank you, God.”

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

  My father rose and went to stand by the window, his hands on his hips and his face set in a stern expression I didn’t recall ever seeing him wear.

  I pulled away from my mother’s arms. “Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you guys here?”

  She was crying, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before reaching up to stroke my cheek.

  I avoided her touch and dropped my keys on the table by the door. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  My first thought had been that they were angry with me for going to Aruba, and for some reason, they’d come to my apartment to chastise me for it. But the level of her emotion and the silence from my father was unsettling, and I wondered briefly if a family member had died while I was gone or if some other tragedy had befallen us.

  “Why will neither of you tell me what’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come to take you home,” my father said without ever looking in my direction.

  The blissful high I’d been sailing on for the past week plummeted, and anger surged up within me. I wasn’t the pliable teenager they thought they knew. In my mind, I’d become a full-fledged woman of independence, and it was time for me to take a stand against their authority.

  “This is my home, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  My father turned to face me, and the sheer look of rage on his face struck fear in my heart.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  My own anger flared in response.

  “If this is about Gerry, you’re wasting your breath. You can leave right now because I’m not going to put up with it. If that’s why you’re here, you can get out of my apartment.” My efforts to keep my voice from breaking failed.