Looking Back
Page 31
“Walking the floor,” it was called whenever the nerves would not let the body rest. Back and forth through the rooms, down the hall and out onto the porch she went. Passing the window of Peter’s office, the one that gave onto the porch, she peered in to see what he was doing and saw him at the long table that served as drawing board and desk. His arms were folded on the table and his head rested on his arms. An open newspaper lay beside him. Very likely he had been trying to read and had given up the attempt. Pity ran like a soundless sob in her chest.
Suddenly, where the pity lay, where the ache lay behind her eyes, something struck her, and she stood transfixed. The light, the golden light of late afternoon, was beaming low under the roof of the porch and through the window where the newspaper lay. She had only to bend a few inches to read: East Side Hockey Team Chooses Captain. Tax Bill Fought in Committee. Then a whole column, the full length of the page, about a burglary. She could read it clearly.
In a frenzy, she ran inside and pounded on the office door.
“What on earth?” Peter said as he opened it.
“Give me your summary. Your design. Quick.”
“What’s the matter with you? Can’t you at least let me have an hour’s rest in peace?”
She ignored his words. Seizing the precious summary from the chair on which, in his despair, he had apparently cast it aside, she placed it precisely on top of the newspaper.
“Now come outside to the porch. Please. I’m serious, Peter.”
Reluctantly, he went, looked where she told him to look, and turned away.
“So? What about it?” he demanded.
“Don’t you see? This is how Norma saw it.”
“Ridiculous. To begin with, she was never alone in this house. At least, that’s what you claim.”
“I never said she was never left by herself for a couple of minutes. I went to the door when the mailman came, I went to the bathroom, didn’t I? Norma was always agitated. She often walked up and down, and one day—”
“And one day she got the idea—”
“Will you let me finish, Peter? Look how the sun comes through that slit between the louvers. It aims like an arrow at your window. Of course, you have to catch it at just the right time. The right time of day and of year. In another season or another hour there’s too much shade here, and it’s too dark to read. But right now, look.” Her thoughts and her tongue were racing. “Here’s yesterday’s paper with the quotes. She’s changed some words so that they won’t be exactly like yours. They sound like her: circumnavigate, where you had go around. That’s the way she talks. Look back at the rest of it, Peter. There’s your diagram. It isn’t exactly the same, but ninety percent of it is.”
Peter scoffed. “She took a chance too, didn’t she, standing here all that time with a pencil and paper while you were getting the mail in at the front door? This sheet of mine measures fourteen inches in length, with narrow margins. That’s a lot of print to copy. And I doubt that she came fortified with the right kind of camera, or any camera. No, think up a better one, Cele.”
“Peter! Listen to me! She didn’t copy. She memorized. Norma has a photographic memory.”
“Don’t tell me she can memorize all this.”
“She can. She can remember a whole page of history, dates and all, in two minutes. We used to marvel at her when we roomed together. If Amanda were here, she would tell you.”
Rarely now did she speak that name. It had a sad, faraway sound, like a chime that lingers in the air.
“Cele, search your memory. Can you swear that you never accidentally—”
Again it was too much, and she began to cry.
“For God’s sake, don’t cry! I can’t stand it. Don’t cry. I won’t ask you again. It’s settled, it happened, you made a terrible mistake, and we can’t do anything about it. Just stop crying.”
A slender pencil of sunlight was moving around the corner, leaving the desk and Peter’s summary illegible in shadow. Looking into his face, she saw that he was in furious distress, and at the same time, he wanted to control his anger because he loved her. She knew, too, that she was asking him to accept something that was very hard to believe. A photographic memory, though not impossible, was too rare, and rarer still in a case like this one, with all the details of the complicated diagram. And so she could easily envision those future moments in which silently, against his will, these terrible doubts would arise in his mind again and assail him. He would be careful not to reveal them, in order to keep the peace of the house, but they would be there all the same. If only there was somebody who could confirm what she had just told him about Norma!
For a few moments, she stood quite still. Then, suddenly, a new thought came flashing. “I want you to listen to Amanda.”
“Listen to Amanda? What is this? What are you talking about? Why the devil should I talk to her? Anyway, you said she’s gone to California.”
“She might not have left yet. I want you to get onto the extension, Peter, and listen. Go into the hall. I’m asking you this very, very earnestly. Please. Oh please, just do it for me.”
As she called Dolly’s number, she was aware of Peter’s agitated breathing on the other phone; she could see the black disapproval on his face as clearly as if he were still standing next to her.
“She’s upstairs packing her things,” Dolly said. “You’ve just caught her. She’s taking a night flight to California. I’ll get her.”
“You called to say good-bye again?” asked Amanda.
“Well, yes, but—well, no, not exactly. I called you to ask you for a favor. You’ll think it’s crazy. But it isn’t crazy. It’s very important. I know you’re in a hurry, so I won’t take time to explain. Peter’s on the other phone, and I want him to hear you answer something about Norma.”
“I don’t want to do this,” Peter said.
“Please, Peter. Please. It’s very simple, Amanda. Just tell him—us—what you know about Norma. Is there anything unusual about her?”
“My goodness, that’s a strange question. Unusual? You mean her legs?”
“No, no. Think hard.”
“That she was uncomfortable around men?”
“Something else.”
There was a pause. “Well, she had a good sense of humor, I remember.”
“True. Anything more?”
“I’m trying to think. Oh, she’s very smart.”
“True.”
“An exceptional student.”
“In what way? Can you describe?”
“Well, for one thing, she had a photographic memory. She could look at a page for a couple of minutes, recite what she’d read, turn to the next page, and do it all over again. She could really have gone on a game show or something.”
“Thank you, Amanda. That’s exactly what I wanted to know. Exactly. Now I won’t keep you. Have a safe trip. And send me your address in California. I’ll keep writing to you about Stevie. Good luck.”
The phones clicked off, first Peter’s, and then Cecile’s. When he came back into the room, she saw by his lowered glance that he was embarrassed.
“Extraordinary,” he murmured as if to himself.
This was hardly the time and surely not a subject for any feelings of triumph or for any words like “I told you so.” In troubled silence, then, she waited for him to speak.
“I—everyone, but mostly I—need to apologize for—for doubting you. For me not to believe you—it was an attack on you. I attacked your intelligence when I let myself think you could have given my work away even by accident. You, of all people! I’m ashamed, and I’m sorry, Cele. I’m sorry more than I can ever say.”
A small, wan smile crept over her lips as she answered him. “Think nothing of it. My parents attacked me, too.” The little smile receded. “But none of that matters much now, does it? The terrible question is: What are we going to do?”
“File a suit, I should say. Get a lawyer. Get one of the best in the city.”
“If
this were any other case, we’d no doubt go to Alfred Cole. Can you believe it?”
In deep disbelief, they were immobilized, standing in the center of the room just looking at each other, when the telephone rang.
It was Norma’s voice that came over the wire in voluble lament. “I just heard what happened at the Newmans’ house. Those terrible accusations, when it’s all sheer coincidence! You know it is, Peter. Oh, hasn’t my poor brother been through enough without being assaulted like this?”
“Nobody’s assaulting your poor brother, Norma. And I really don’t want to discuss it with you, anyway,” he said.
“We can make an appointment.”
“No, really, Norma. I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk to you at all, and I’m going to hang up right now.”
Cecile made a sudden resolve. “I’m going to talk to her. I’m going to call and ask her to meet me someplace, neither here nor at her house, but on neutral ground, like the library or the park.”
“It will be nasty, and nothing will come of it. You won’t get anywhere with her. You’ll only upset yourself. Anyone who’s gone this far isn’t going to give up what she’s stolen, no matter how you appeal or reason. Don’t do it.”
“Just the same, I’m going to try.”
Norma was nervous, a nervous enemy. On the hard bench, she kept shifting from one haunch to the other. Plainly, she would have liked to get up and run away from the eyes that Cecile was deliberately fixing upon her. One could almost, in an ironic way, feel sorry for her and her predicament.
“You know you’re lying, Norma. And you know that I know exactly what happened: You were pacing back and forth as usual, and you saw what I admit should have been better hidden—oh, what’s the use? Why don’t you simply admit it? We don’t have to take legal action. We’re decent people, and we can find a decent way to settle this.”
Even as she spoke, she was aware that all this repetitious talk was futile, as Peter had predicted. There was no “decent way to settle” that would not involve Balsan’s complete withdrawal, and that was not about to happen, not with Norma in charge. Nervous or not, she was immovable. If Amanda were here in person, she could testify to Norma’s ability. But that was absurd. Poor Amanda, to stand up in court in this city as a reliable witness?
Yet Amanda would never have done what Norma had done. Amanda had heart. She could easily have taken the baby away from Larry and left him, yet she had not done it to him.
Norma, she wanted to say, remember the three musketeers? Why are you doing this to my dear Peter and to me? He has always been so kind to you. Only a few months ago, he—
But she had already said enough. They both had, and it was time to end the talk, time to leave. So, without any mention of seeing each other again and without even a handshake, they parted.
Often in the days and nights that followed, through a jumble of meetings, consultations with lawyers, and the incessant ringing of the telephone, Cecile had bitter thoughts. How stupid life could be, how frustrating, haphazard, and unjust! Was it not incredible that a friend as dear and sisterly as Norma could have done what she did? And was it not senseless that Amanda’s love affair could have reached into Peter’s life and turned it around?
The air was heavy with unanswered questions. Their brittle speech and their silences were tense. And one day, driven by worry and impatience, Cecile burst forth.
“What’s the problem? Why the delay? It seems so simple. What are we waiting for? We’ve already wasted two weeks.”
“It’s not that simple,” Peter answered grimly.
“Why isn’t it? I don’t understand. It’s a theft. What’s complicated about that?”
“Because, as we’ve been told, they will claim that you talked freely about the idea. You thought it was interesting that Larry had had a similar idea, which Norma had discussed with you. It was all a very friendly interchange of ideas. And anyway, his plan is not exactly like mine—”
“No, of course it isn’t. She was clever enough to change it just a little bit, wasn’t she?”
Peter sighed. In all their years together, she had never heard him sigh as often as he had been doing during these past weeks.
“Well, our lawyers are evolving a strategy, and it doesn’t go so fast. That’s all I can say at this point,” he told her. “And you should know that although the lawyers are fairly certain that we would win in the end, it’s you who would be deeply involved, as you can see from what I’ve just been telling you.”
“Well, and if I were, I wouldn’t mind.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be examined and cross-examined in a courtroom. The opposite side would try to make you look like a fool. Do you really want that?”
He was thinking of her! He whose achievement had been smashed as a city is plundered, was thinking of her! And filled with a tremendous surge of protective love, she cried out. “I don’t care, I told you! I want revenge. We’ll go to court and we’ll fight. I’ll fight. Go back and tell them all. Tell the lawyers, Roland, my father, everybody.”
Intensely moved, he put his arms around her and did not answer.
More days went by. They were well into the third week of their troubles, and because he was involved in them every day, inevitably without having reached any conclusions, she ceased to question him. He came home at all hours; their late supper was eaten in front of the television, which was something they had rarely done before. Understanding that he had as yet nothing to tell her, she kept a worried silence, only turning upon him now and then her worried glance.
More days passed. And one evening, when Peter opened the front door, she saw in his face that he at last had something definite to say.
“Sit down,” he said. “We’ve reached a decision. We’re dropping the case. We’re not going to sue.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“You heard. The lawyers, your father, Roland, and all the rest of them have agreed. It’s over.”
His tone was grim, and she was appalled. “Why? Because of me? Because I would be dragged into it?” Yes, that must be the reason. Her husband and her father were shielding her…. “What do you think I am? A coward, a delicate lady who has to be protected? You ought to be—”
“No. Your father might have had such thoughts, but he’s of a different generation. I would have let you struggle through it because I know you and how courageous you are. We stand together, you and I. No, the reason is something else, and nothing to do with you. The partners simply do not want to be involved in years of litigation. We would probably win. Yes, almost undoubtedly we would. But it would cost a fortune. And it would waste time that the other investors feel they can spend more prudently on another venture. It won’t be as grand as this one, but it will be a lot more profitable than tying themselves up in the courts with this. That would leave me to go it alone, and obviously I can’t afford to do that. So that’s it, Cele. It’s settled. From their point of view it certainly makes sense. And when you think about it, it makes sense from ours, too. It’s simply not worth the wear and tear on the spirit.”
She burst into tears. “Your work, your vision—it was your brainchild!”
“Children die,” he said.
There came a long moment during which they looked into each other’s eyes. And suddenly there passed across his grave, still face that old, brave smile, the kind he had shown to her when they lost the twins.
“There’s still a beautiful world out there in spite of all,” he said. “We’ve lived and loved before there was this project, and we’ll do it again.” He held out his arms. “Cele, darling, come to me.”
More than once, as the years went by, Norma became aware that Lester sometimes looked sharply in her direction, whenever the “coincidence” happened to be mentioned. They would probably have had a few rough times if the subject had been pursued, but neither of them wanted any rough times. Nor did Alfred Cole, so noted for his keenness as a litigator. It was a subject best not talked about.
And so in the course of time Norma learned that Amanda had done very well in California.
“I remember,” someone said at a dinner party, “she could make you feel that the world was a happy place. There was so much life in her. And she was brave. She went out there, swallowed her medicine, and started all over again. Made a place for herself in the community—good work at the hospital—that sort of thing.”
“She owns her own dress shop in Sacramento,” another reported, “and I heard she’s going to open a branch in the suburbs. Her house is absolutely charming, somebody told me. She entertains beautifully, and naturally with all her sparkle she’s in no want of men.”
At that point, apparently to their embarrassment, the speakers recalled that Norma was at the table, so the subject of Amanda was immediately dropped.
With looks like those, that body, that head of curls, Norma thought, almost anything is forgiven, isn’t it? Once, speaking of Amanda, Cecile had said that Peter had called her “a magnet.” And even Lester, my own husband, she thought, had tactlessly reported to her when somebody had told him how Amanda took care of her parents and was known for her charities in California.
Why didn’t people remember instead that she had killed my father and almost killed my brother? No, they prefer to talk about her sweetness, smiles and her blond hair!
Fortunately, though, California was a long distance from Michigan, so Norma was highly unlikely to glimpse Amanda while crossing a street. This, however, was not the case where Cecile was concerned.
At a restaurant in the city one evening, who should stop at Norma’s table but Mrs. Lyons, chatty as ever.
“I saw your friends Cecile and Peter Mack the other day. Aren’t they the most wonderful couple? And those beautiful children! Isn’t it strange how, right after people adopt, they have their own? The nice thing for the Macks is that their adopted boy actually looks a bit like their own two girls. Such a lovely family! Do you see much of them?”