*
“So, Pam, are you glad you let me talk you into this?”
She hesitated. “Rafe, you’re like a sumptuous hot fudge sundae, sinfully rich and decadent, but not very nutritious for every day fare. Joe is meat and potatoes, bland but filling. The question is, should you eat the hot fudge sundae if you know you’re just setting yourself up to yearn for something you’re not going to have again or would you be better off never to know what you’re missing?
“Tasting everything is always better,” he answered. “In the end, all we are as people is the sum total of our experiences.”
“If I was your age, Rafe, I could imagine letting myself fall seriously in love with you and getting my heart broken for my efforts but I have to remember I’m a single 37-year-old mother with a shitty little job as a waitress that barely let’s me make ends meet and a boyfriend who’ll crawl under the sink to fix the leak.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll end up living,” he mused, “but I expect I could go however long that is without ever getting under a sink.”
She laughed. “Exactly.”
“But, Pam, couldn’t you show him what makes you happy?”
“First, Rafe, I don’t think he’s an old dog who is going to be up for learning any new tricks and second, he already thinks he makes me happy. I’m in a Catch 22. Kind of hard at this late date to say, ‘oh, by the way…’”
“If it was me, I’d want a woman to tell me,” he said, “so I could fix it.”
She laid her hand on his cheek. “I don’t think it’s a problem you’re ever going to have to worry about, Rafe.”
*
He dropped her off at her car, giving her a last kiss.
“The answer to your question, Rafe, is yes. I’m glad you talked me into going with you. You’ll always have a special place in my memory, one I’ll probably drag out from time to time when I need an uplift. But, Rafe, don’t come to the marina to eat anymore, okay, and if you see me at one of the girls’ games, just say hi and keep on going?”
He shook his head in agreement. “I know.”
As she was walking to her car, he called out, “hey, Pam…”
“What?”
“If you ever get a craving for hot fudge, just call me.”
She blew him a kiss. “That won’t happen, Rafe, I’m running back to the straight and narrow as fast as my legs will take me - but thanks.”
*
He drove away thinking, “mission accomplished.”
* *
She put the thank you card in her Bible where she thought Misty would never find it but she did.
“Mom, what did you ever do for Rafe Vincennes that he would thank you for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I found a card in your Bible that said - ‘thanks, Rafe’ - I assumed it was Rafe Vincennes, he’s the only Rafe we know.”
“Oh, he used to come into the marina for lunch sometimes and we talked. One time he sat and confided in me about the situation with his parents and Laney. The card was in my purse and I used it for a bookmark. ”
“What about Laney and her parents?”
“That’s none of your business, Misty. It was a confidential conversation.”
“I never remember Laney’s folks one time at school or at our games. She hates being alone so much in that huge house. She said if it wasn’t for Rafe, it would be terrible. We’re poor but I’d rather live here with you than be rich like the Vincennes.”
“Yes, sometimes, we envy people without knowing the whole story, Miss.”
“Mom?”
“What?”
“Do you think Rafe Vincennes is hot?”
“I probably would if I was your age, why?” (God, she hoped she wasn’t blushing!)
Misty giggled. “We passed around a poll at school and he was voted the hottest boy by the middle school girls. Do you think Rafe would ever go out with someone like me, Mom?”
“No! You’re too young for him.”
“He’s 16 and I’m 14, that’s only two years. Wasn’t Dad five years older than you?”
“He’s going to be leaving for Princeton next year and be hanging around with college girls. I don’t think he’ll be interested in kids your age and now do you think we could change the subject to something else besides Rafe Vincennes?”
“Gawd, Mom, why are you so grouchy?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Miss. I think I’m getting ready to start my period. I must have PMS.”
“Do you think if Joe comes this weekend, he’ll fix my closet door where it keeps getting off the track?”
“I’m sure he will, Honey.”
“I like Joe, Mom. He’s nice.”
Gratefully, “yes, Misty, he is nice, isn’t he?”
* *
“Have you ever cried, Rafe?”
“I don’t know, Lane, I suppose I must have at some time, when I was a baby.”
“I’ve never seen you cry. Even when the dog attacked me and you got bitten, you didn’t cry.”
He smiled faintly. “Well, if I did, Honey, I probably learned quickly enough that it wasn’t going to do me any good. You know, there was no Rafe around when I was little, like you had me. Maybe I just stopped doin’ it when I found out it was a waste of time.”
* *
“Well, this is the last meet, Rafe. Are you still determined to go off to college next year?”
“No question about it. My dad made it clear - no college, no Corvette. I love three things in this world, Chet - my sister, my dog and my car. Besides, it’s the way it is, Vincennes sons go to Princeton. It’s like the law.” He grinned.
“I never expected when you first came to me as a snot-nosed kid you’d have the talent for driving you turned out to have, Rafe. I could see you going all the way with it, if that’s what you decided to do.”
“I still might, but I have to get this out of the way first.”
Chester held out his hand. “You’re welcome back any time, Rafe. You come to me, you’ll always have a car to drive.”
“Thanks. It’s been awesome.”
Chester sighed. He really hated to lose this boy. It was true what he said about Rafe’s driving but you could always find drivers. Finding great drivers with the kid’s charisma was something else again.
* *
Magdelene always went all out for Christmas, decorating the house to within an inch of its life. Huge swags of evergreens with giant red and green plaid bows draped the golden oak staircase. Enormous wreaths hung on every door. Lights shone from every window. Banks of poinsettias filled the fireplace hearths and extravagant red and white flower arrangements bedecked every mantel and table. Out in the front courtyard was a flood-lit, life-sized manger scene, imported from Italy, that put to shame anything found in any church yard.
There were trees throughout the downstairs - blue ones and white ones and green ones, decorated in various themes but the piece de resistance was the 15-foot tree in the left tower that opened into the living room. It was covered with white lights and red bulbs and golden bows, along with ornaments made by nine artistic young Vincennes’ throughout the years. Presents spilled out into the floor in all directions. Christmas was the one time Renny and Magdelene expected their entire family to return home. Their children could spend Easter or Thanksgiving with in-laws or friends or off on backpack journeys through Tibet or what the hell ever but by God, they would drop whatever they were doing and come home for Christmas day. When they were young, the tradition was opening presents, followed by waffles for breakfast. When they got older, they flipped that schedule and ate first, then repaired to the living room for gifts. After that, they were all free to nap or visit or watch television. The late afternoon was turkey and ham with all the trimmings, followed by evening mass.
Rafe had warned Duke early on. “If you schedule a Christmas night dance, you’ll have to find a substitute for me. My parents don’t excuse an absence at Christmas for any reason exc
ept intensive care.”
So all the siblings were arriving. The garage was full and the bedrooms were full, just like back in the old days when they all lived at home. Morgan was 35 now. He came with his wife, Jessica, and their two children (a dark boy, 10, and blonde girl, 7), Logan and Jennifer. They lived on an estate in Connecticut, Amber Hill. He was a partner in his law firm in New York City. He still stayed in shape playing a cutthroat game of racquet ball.
Wyatt was the only one who might have been allowed off the hook for not showing up but fortunately, he was able to get leave from the military. Wyatt was married too, to an Air Force lieutenant, a lovely Mexican girl named Belen. They joked and said one reason they got along so well was that they hardly ever saw one another.
Mariel was the third to bring an in-law into the Vincennes family. Her husband was British, Sir Reginald Dunstan, Seventh Earl of Stancroft. (No one was surprised when Mariel married a title). Actually, Reg was a heck of a nice guy who didn’t put on airs like you might expect from an Earl, in fact, if anyone put on airs, it was Mariel herself. They had two sons, both black-haired, Reggie Jr and Hugh, 5 and 3 years old. They had teasingly called her Lady Mariel even before she married into royalty.
Denis was also there from New York, along with his partner, Jeff. Denis was a full-time artist and Jeff was an actor. They seemed to make a pretty good living in their two unpredictable professions (not that any Vincennes ever had to worry about making a living). Denis had never had a problem acknowledging his sexual orientation because he knew none of his family cared, all of them being totally non-homophobic.
Ditto, Jocelyn with her African-American boyfriend, Edgar. They were engaged and would be married next June. Together, they owned a psychiatric clinic in Boston and both had about a hundred initials behind their names, which no one else in the family could ever decipher. She was slender and platinum; he was ebony and had the physique of a linebacker. Their colleagues in psychiatry referred to them as Day and Night.
Gabe, of course, was playing piano on the concert circuit. He and his girlfriend had broken up. She hadn’t been as understanding about spending time apart as Wyatt’s wife.
Annecy had completed her degree in veterinary science and had just been hired at an animal clinic on Cape Cod.
By the time everyone arrived with their packages, the presents filled up half the living room floor. Their socks all hung on the intricately carved mantel. You had to be a sibling or a spouse to get a sock because Magdelene said the girlfriends and boyfriends came and went too fast. She made an exception for Jeff, of course. She figured he and Denis would be married if the country ever became enlightened enough to allow gays to wed in every state. There were usually no big surprises about socks. They were filled with various kinds of expensive candy and contained, in addition, a check for $1,000. (Morgan could remember back to when it was only $500). There were other small things tucked into the velvet stockings (a different color for each individual Vincennes) - a gift card to a book or art store, a pair of earrings, a miniature pewter Civil war soldier for Denis’ collection, a Waterford crystal animal for Annecy’s. The $1,000 checks were one reason they all almost always made it home. Renny’s rule was that it was only good for Christmas Day. If you weren’t there then, the check disappeared.
Laney thought it was exciting when everyone was at Heron Point. She imagined what it must have been like when they all lived here - all the noise and activity and people running up and down the stairs and doors opening and closing and laughing and music playing. Rafe said he could remember when Annecy and Gabe and Jocey lived at home and when the others still spent their college vacations here but by the time Lane was 5, even Annecy was a teenager and the older ones were gone for good.
“So, Rafe,” Gabe asked him, “you’re racing cars and playing guitar for a year before you go to Princeton, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe Dad let you get away with that. None of the rest of us would have been allowed to postpone college to play around for a year. Or to have a Corvette for our first car. He must have mellowed in his old age.”
Rafe’s dark eyes captured Gabe’s, a slight smile drifted across his face. “Think back, Gabe. Do you seriously think I’ve had it better than you older ones?”
Gabe remembered Injun, the serious little boy who always seemed to be charged with caring for his baby sister, the silent little boy who was mostly ignored, even by their parents. His eyes dropped, “no, Rafe, I don’t guess you did.”
*
Another Vincennes tradition was the Christmas List. The kids had always looked forward to making out their wish lists. Sometimes they worked on them for weeks, adding and revising. It wasn’t unusual for them to carry over to the second page. With great fanfare, they handed them in to Magdelene on Thanksgiving. She wanted plenty of time to do all her shopping. Unless they got completely crazy, they always got everything they asked for - over the years that had meant bikes and games and puppies and ponies and musical instruments and leather coats and tennis bracelets and IPods.
Rafe was the hardest one of all to buy for because there were very few things he seemed to want. Usually, his list contained two items at most. The only gifts Magdelene could ever remember that he seemed to feel passionate about were his German Shepherd puppy, Raven, and the year he made a point of asking to go to ski camp when he was nine and then to ask for a ski weekend every year after that. He never even had a pony of his own but simply took whichever one was standing in the barn when he wanted to ride, before switching to Destiny. Rafe seemed to lack a sense of possession, never craving stuff of his own like the other kids but satisfied to make do with whatever was around. He liked to fish but there were fishing poles galore at Heron Point and he’d just take one that was there. He was still using Gabe’s old guitar in the band and seemed content to continue doing so. If he wanted to shoot, he got one of the guns out of the gun safe in Renny’s study. Magdelene sometimes bought him clothes but he never asked for anything special so she mostly got him jeans and shirts and underwear and used her own judgment about the rest, like his leather jacket. He wore whatever she bought him (she had excellent taste in clothes if she did say so herself) but she thought if she took something out of his closet and replaced it with something else, he’d simply wear the new thing without comment. He didn’t wear jewelry and he didn’t collect anything. His room was spartan, without the bulletin board of souvenirs and memorabilia and team pictures her other kids had highlighted. There were no banners or posters on the walls. He never displayed the plaques or trophies or blue ribbons he’d won. He’d never wanted a letter jacket or a class ring and she didn’t think he’d bought any of his school yearbooks, although his picture probably appeared in them more than anyone else’s. She thought she should probably make an effort to buy them herself. Everyone else’s were on a special shelf in the library. (The idea would disappear from her head by the time the holiday was over). He’d won the Regatta this year, and that was a big deal in this part of the country, but she didn’t even know what happened to the big silver bowl he was awarded for that triumph.
She asked him - “By the way, Rafe, what did you do with the Regatta award?”
“It’s up in the attic with all the other stuff like that.”
So every year was a challenge to know what to buy him. Whoever got his name in the annual Christmas drawing always groaned in despair.
Surprisingly, he was an excellent gift-giver himself, invariably coming up with something unique that delighted its recipient. Last year, for instance, he’d given her an Irish Claddaugh ring, handcrafted in and imported from Ireland, with her birthstone emerald held by the two hands with a crown above. Everyone in the family mostly thought of themselves as Vincennes’, hardly remembering that her side, the Morgans, could proudly trace their Irish heritage back for many generations. Getting the ring from Rafe almost made her cry, thinking that the child she understood the least was the most perceptive about her.
This year he’d gotten Denis an intricately carved collection of miniature Civil War weapons, every gun and saber, perfectly replicated in wood and metal.
Denis was blown away. “My God, Rafe, I’ve never had anything so wonderful. Jesus - oops, sorry, Mom - they’re exquisite.” He ran his fingers over the details on the tiny pieces.
“I found out about a guy who does them. I’ve had them for two years,” he smiled his quick smile, “I’d decided if I didn’t draw your name this Christmas, I was just going to give them to you for the hell of it.”
* *
When everyone else gathered up their kids and their clothes and their gifts and moved out, Renny and Magdelene went with them. They were going to Monte Carlo for two weeks to celebrate their 36th anniversary (Magdelene had been pregnant with Morgan when they wed, despite Renny pulling out at the crucial moment - it seemed like all it ever took was for his sperm and her egg to breathe the same air to make a baby).
*
It seemed strange, after all the people and activity, for the house to be so quiet.
Lane was on the computer, doing research for the paper she had to have done by the time she went back to school after Christmas break. Rafe was lying on the sofa in front of the wide-screen t.v. watching a football game.
“Come here, Honey. Sit down and let me put my head on your lap.”
He lifted his head long enough for her to slip beneath him, then laid it back down.
She began running her fingers through his black hair, something she knew he loved. It made him feel like purring, he said.
“Mmmm, that feels good. Guess what, Lane?”
“What?”
“The band is trying out a new guitar player. They want to make sure they have someone ready by the time I leave. He’s going to sit in with them for the next week. Duke said I could either tag along or take the time off.”
She held her breath. “What did you tell them, Rafe?”
“Why, I told him my baby sister was going to be home all alone and she’d probably want me to stay here with her and make love to her twenty times a day so I guessed I’d better take the time off.”
Sociopath? Page 10
