Michael Malone

by Dingley Falls

  "Now. Ain't this a night in a million?" Curley's question ambled back to the couple curled together beneath a nappy blanket. Who better than they could answer, "Yes"?

  Beanie asked where the seals were.

  "Lady," said Curley, as he chewed pepperoni and peppers. "You talking about the zoo? They got those seals locked up at night, long time ago. Drunks and bums was sneaking in there at night and diving in, and getting their fingers bit off. And nuts and kooks was taking potshots at them seals and throwing beer bottles at them."

  "Why?"

  "Why? Lady, this here is New York!"

  Still, the grass was green. Horns were hushed and cars no more than blurs of motion. Night breeze shook awake the leaves on trees and shifted their patterns as the hansom passed. Yes, there were trees, as real as those rooted in East Woods and Birch Forest. Leaning back on Richard's shoulder, Beanie looked up at a sky luminous with phosphoric crystals like the stars of a smoky ballroom. A sky haloed in the city's haze. In Dingley Falls tonight, the sky would be ablaze with candelabra on black velvet and each star would be vivid with its own iridescence. Still, in this nimbus sheen, there was a beauty.

  Beautiful to Beanie, though she knew that for her to be here at all made no sense. Just as love makes no more sense than magic.

  Of course, they were right to tell her it made no sense. Priss was right to think it hysterics. She had thoughtlessly left, after thirty years of marriage, a good quiet man who thought he loved her for this strange, unquiet man who knew he wanted her, who had swirled her into his passion like wind and leaves. But they were right, she was being unfair to Winslow and could not for much longer refuse to think about that.

  Still now Richard's pulse in his neck pressed the rhythm of his heart to her face. And his hand beneath her hand was vital. And for so long she had not been touched, except by words—Winslow was thoughtful and said kind things—for years somehow they had not made love, and even in the beginning her husband had evaded passion. It had been for so long that she had neither known herself to be a passionate woman, nor been aware that in passion's loss she was that much less herself.

  But Richard knew, knew it the moment he brushed against her with his knee in that Argyle bar. He knew who she was. He saw it in each act of her body, in her hands on the wheel of her car, in her lips on the rim of her glass, in her eyes on star moss and cowslip almost hidden as they climbed, through Birch Forest, in her teeth biting wild blackberries as they climbed. He had touched her, and her body, for so long husbanded, quickened. He saw, heard, touched, sensed, knew who she was, and that was as magical to them both as pink lady's slipper shining out of pine needles in the shadows. As sudden as the sun spilling into the evening lake.

  He took Beatrice's hands like a prayer. She had touched him, and after all those diffuse and scattered years, Richard felt that perhaps he could be centered now, concentrated in her absoluteness.

  For she was, he believed tonight, the most holy (because the wholest) person he had ever known. He kissed her now, and red chestnut blooms like candles flickered down a hall of branches as they passed beneath the trees this night in Central Park. She kissed him now, and his breath was perfect to breathe, his beard was strange and perfect on her lips, his hair was yellow-red and perfect-feeling in her fingers. Leaned back against the musty leather, they kissed and that way translated all they had not said. With the ease of the evening air, they were reverent with each other. Like birds at rest in a wave, with only a halcyon sigh, they touched as Curley McGuire led his slumbery horse under the shadowed pavilion of trees in the park.

  Back above Sheridan Square, the friends of Richard Rage were analyzing his peculiar behavior.

  "I don't get it. Our Rich, and a town and country grandmother!"

  "What the shit is he up to? Making an ass of himself hanging all over that aging Amazon?"

  "Did you try talking to her?"

  "Moronic."

  "I asked her what she thought of Marjorem's film and she said the dog looked dehydrated to her."

  "I love it!"

  "It's obvious, isn't it? I mean, she's obviously loaded. She probably clips coupons the way I clip my toenails. Now she owns a piece of her very own living poet."

  "And prick."

  "The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone."

  "Stone Mountain."

  "Then Rich must be a hell of a lot better in bed than he is on paper."

  "He's not, not from what I've heard. I heard he was lousy."

  "Well, sweetie, she's no Lady Chatterley herself."

  "Did you see the Review last week? The Lawrence factory is turning it out like it was Ben Rough!"

  "It's all hype. It's all a great big hype."

  On the train home, the friends of Beanie Abernathy were ana- lyzing her peculiar behavior.

  "My God, that woman's more of a fool than I thought! What in h. she sees in that charlatan I simply cannot imagine."

  "Oh, poor dear Winslow."

  "It's absolutely apparent that all Mr. Rage is after is her money.

  We've already been told he can't even pay his g.d. library fines."

  "Should we call Winslow tonight and tell him where Beanie is?"

  "Oh, Tracy! Pourquoi donc? To tale-tell against our Beanie?"

  "Evelyn, don't be a g.d. fool. Our tale-telling is the least of her worries. Tracy's right. Winslow will have to take steps. She's lost her mind, and he and Otto can commit her someplace sympathique 'til she comes to her senses."

  "Priss! I don't think, I didn't mean commit her, I meant tell Winslow so he'll know she's all right."

  "You mean to say you think that woman's all right?"

  "Isn't it the strangest thing, though?" sighed Evelyn Troyes. "The way she said he loved her, the way she knew. It was like that when I fell in love with Hugo."

  "Yes, and you see where that got you. Abandoned in Montmartre with the Nazis at your doorstep like something in a B movie. Don't try to tell me that Beanie Abernathy is in love, really in love, with a ridiculous, penniless man who's shorter than she is, whom she met on Monday! Ha!"

  "Oh, look," whispered Evelyn. "Isn't that Walter Saar up there in the next section, lying down with his head on a newspaper?"

  "Yes! It is Walter," said Tracy. "I won't wake him, but I wonder how he liked the opera."

  "Wait 'til he hears about this opera. The Magic Loot!" snorted Priss. "Brunhild and Sig-greed!"

  "Oh, I don't think you should talk about it, do you?"

  "Evelyn, it was the talk of the town five minutes after it happened."

  He kissed her temples and moved his fingers slowly along her hairline. Bedded, unclothed, the marriage of their bodies illumined in the aura of a street light, each looked unashamed into the eyes of the other—that most naked intimacy that only a child or a lover can bear. Curving her long legs over him, she held him in her hands, and sinking down, made them, for that while, one flesh.

  And both Richard and Beanie, and their friends, made to each other perfect sense.

  chapter 31

  "Miss Lattice?"

  "This is she."

  "This is Judith Haig. I'm afraid I'm calling awfully late."

  "Oh, that's quite all right. I'm rarely in bed before eleven."

  "I called to explain why—"

  "Oh, I heard! Poor Mr. Marco. You must have been so close after so many years. I think there's never anything anyone can say, but if these things have to happen, we can be grateful that it was so sudden and so little suffering, don't you think, Mrs. Haig?"

  "Yes. That's true."

  "You're probably calling about Chin Lam. She's still here."

  "Actually I called to ask—"

  "Sleeping now. I don't think she had slept for days before, I really don't. She talked to me this afternoon, more about this horrible situation with her husband, and I hated for her to be back in that trailer in Madder all by herself, so I just insisted she stay with me until things get straightened out. We locked it all up and arranged for somebody to keep
an eye on it."

  "This is all very kind of you, Miss Lattice."

  "Oh, not at all. She's no trouble at all. I'm glad of the company.

  A sweet girl really, but terribly frightened, I'm afraid, by everything that's happened to her. Naturally."

  "Yes. I spoke with a lawyer, with Mr. Abernathy actually."

  "Chin told me how kind you've been, to involve yourself. What did Winslow say?"

  "He was very thoughtful."

  "Oh, he's as considerate as he can be. I'm very fond of Winslow."

  "Yes. He, in fact he came by after we spoke to say he'd already been in touch with the people at the prison. The magistrate has set a rather high bail, I understand that's because of previous arrests."

  "Do you know what those were for?"

  "No, he didn't say. But he said he would go to Argyle tomorrow to look into it."

  "Oh, that's wonderful, isn't it? But I don't mind telling you, Mrs. Haig, of course it's none of my business, but from what I gather from Chin, I'm not really sure she ought to go back to her husband. What I mean is, I'm not really sure the girl knew what she was doing when she married him. And frankly, her loyalty to him strikes me as a little misplaced, although I believe he did come to her rescue in a very bad situation. And loyalty ought to be admired, even if misplaced, I suppose."

  "She was worried that there might be some question of her legal status. I thought you might tell her that Mr. Abernathy says her marriage is perfectly legal, as is her entry as an immigrant."

  "Yes, she has her green card. Her work permit. Thank you. I'll tell her first thing in the morning that you called. Maybe you could drop by the Tea Shoppe. You know, I don't think we've ever actually seen you in there. Please come let me give you a pastry. And I know Chin will want to thank you."

  "There's no cause, but thank you. I'll try to come."

  "And all my sympathy about poor Alf Marco. Will there be services tomorrow?"

  "I'm sorry. I'm not really sure yet. I was not actually a close friend, I'm afraid."

  "Well, I'd like to send a few flowers. I can hardly keep up with them in my yard, and maybe the family, well, yes, I'll see. Good-bye, then, thank you again, good-bye."

  "Tracy, Winslow. Hope I'm not disturbing. I know how worried you've been, though, and thought I'd just give you a call to say I heard from Beanie just awhile ago. From New York. The phone woke me up, and I'm probably doing the same to you. No? Well, she's all right, I mean, not hurt or anything. And, well, I thought you'd want to know."

  "I'm glad you called, Winslow. Is she, well, never mind, I'm glad to know nothing's happened to her."

  "Of course, as I guess you know, Tracy, she has, ah, has felt that, ah, she needs some time to, ah…"

  "Winslow, oh, I'm sure you two will work this out. I'm just sorry."

  "Well, I won't keep you up. I just thought you'd be worried."

  "Yes. Thank you. I'm glad you called."

  "Ernest, have you ever had an affair?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean, slept with someone besides me."

  "Of course I have, you know that."

  "Help me with this necklace, will you? No, I meant, since we were married?"

  "Why in the world do you ask? There, all right?"

  "Have you? Thanks."

  "Of course I haven't. You know that."

  "Why not?"

  "Where's my…Why not? What do you mean 'Why not?'"

  "The thought never occurred to you?"

  "Why should it?"

  "No, don't empty that in there, just leave it. Well, it's natural, it usually does to most men, doesn't it?"

  "Does it? Isn't Kate home yet?"

  "She said she was going to a late movie with Sidney. In Argyle, I think. She seems to be seeing more and more of him; maybe we ought to give her the money to go to Europe next month. Have you ever bought a woman then?"

  "Bought?"

  "Yes, for the evening. A call girl?"

  "For heaven's sake, Priss, this is ridiculous."

  "Have you? Well, for all I know you might have a seraglio stashed away in the Waldorf. How would I know?"

  "This is stupid."

  "Isn't it the fashion for businessmen away from home?"

  "I couldn't say, frankly. What is Emerald doing in there?"

  "Oh, it's an electric face buffer. The wiring in this house is simply absurd. We'll have to have someone in."

  "All right, make an appointment. Do you want this?"

  "No, I don't think so. Klute. That's the name of it."

  "You want your light on?"

  "Yes, um, no, I guess not, New York has really exhausted me.

  Turn them both off. Want the coverlet?"

  "I'm fine. Good night."

  "Klute, the film. Jane Fonda played an expensive call girl. For men like you."

  "Hmmm."

  "But, naturally, she falls in love."

  "Um-hmmm."

  "You know, Beanie. Beanie says she's in love with this Richard Rage. She was quite eloquent on the subject."

  "Hmmm. Beanie."

  "Yes, I know, still, she did go off with him. Do you think she'll come to her senses?"

  "Probably. I've got to get up at six, Priss. Sorry."

  "Sorry. Good night. Sweet dreams."

  "Hmmm. Sweet dreams."

  "Your brown twill's back. It's in your closet."

  "Hmmm. Good. Thanks."

  "No, I didn't know what to say, Evelyn, it was perfectly awful! I just couldn't think. He said Beanie called. Yes, from New York. It must have been right after we…Yes. Oh, my, I feel terrible. I hope I made the right decision, not to say we'd just seen her. I couldn't, that's all. It just seemed disloyal to Beanie. Poor Winslow though!"

  "Jesus bless us, poor Judith. Having Alf Marco drop over dead in her lap like that after eleven years. And after getting the news about her own heart just this week. And poor Sister Mary Joseph, after she helped raise Judith over at Mercy. Did I tell you? Judith didn't even know about Sister Mary Joseph dying until I told her today. I'm sure it gave her the creeps about Alf. Didn't it give you the creeps when you got there and saw him? It gave me the creeps just hearing about it. Joe? Joe?"

  "Unnh-hungh."

  "With Hawk away who knows up to what! Eddie! Tommy! Shut up in there and go to sleep! Hawk away, and Chinkie Henry banging on her door in the middle of the night. I don't know what she thought Judith could do about Maynard anyhow. Funny Chinkie didn't come to me, after getting my old job at the Tea Shoppe, and with you being an arresting officer and all. 'Course I would have told her, and no bones about it, the truth is she should have had more sense than to get in a pickup with a dope fiend like Raoul Treeca. The whole thing's her fault in the first place if you look at it that way. But now Maynard's going to just have to pay his debt to society like the rest of us, veteran or no veteran. Anyhow, Hawk always said how Maynard ought to be put away for good, didn't he? Didn't Hawk?"

  "Unnh-hungh."

  "Honey, don't jiggle, I just got polish halfway up my toe. You know, Hawk ought not to have gone out of town like this, with Judith having so much to deal with. Sometimes, maybe this sounds funny and I love Hawk, but I wonder if Judith and him are really meant for each other. You ever wonder that? I'll tell you the honest truth, Joe, sometimes I get this intuition, you know, the way she looks at Hawk sometimes, that maybe she doesn't even like him. Isn't that an awful thing to think? 'Course I don't like to pry and she always says, 'Oh, I'm fine,' no matter what you ask her. But she worries me. She will have a stroke, God bless her, just all nerves anyhow, always was, remember that time you and me and them, when Hawk ran over that dead dog just lying out on Route 3, remember?"

  "Un-ungh."

  "Oh, you do too. She made Hawk pull over and then she just ran into the bushes and by the time I caught up with her she'd messed all over her nice wool jacket. Tommy! Your father's getting up out of bed and coming in there in one minute! Poor Judith. Anyhow, I just wish she'd
ridden along with me to look at our house with Cecil Hedgerow. Then when Alf had his stroke, she wouldn't have even been there to see it and get all upset. So I was thinking, when Hawk gets back, let's have them over, go out to Astor Heights and look at the new house, knock on wood. That'd be nice, wouldn't it, Joe? Joe? Joe? Joe!"

  "Mrs. Haig?"

  "Yes?"

  "Winslow Abernathy. I apologize for disturbing you. I should have waited until tomorrow. I realize it's late."

  "No, I was here knitting. Is it late?"

  "Almost twelve, I'm afraid. You'll think I'm being absurd, but Otto Scaper just dropped by my house on his way home. I think he's been a doctor so long, day and night have lost their distinctions for him. Well, he mentioned the news about Mr. Marco, and naturally he was concerned about the effect, he did tell me you hadn't been well, and that you would naturally be feeling a little upset. And somehow, I just began to worry, this is so silly. I hope you're feeling all right. Mrs. Haig?"

  "Oh. Yes. I'm fine. It's kind of you to call. But, thank you, I'm all right."

  "Of course, I was sure you would be, but, suddenly, I just got this feeling of, well, worry, I suppose. You had mentioned being alone, and somewhat…isolated. Obviously, it was not necessary. Sounds irrational, I'm sure. My apologies. And my condolences about your employee."

  "Please, don't apologize. I appreciate your concern. Miss Lattice told me earlier how grateful she was for what you've been able to do.

  Chin Lam, Mrs. Henry, was there with her, and I passed along your information."

  "Ah. Good."

  "I'll drop by to speak with them tomorrow at the shop."

  "I see. It would probably help if I could speak with the girl, too.

  Would you mind if I joined you?"

  "I hate to take up your time with this, Mr. Abernathy."

  "Could you make it around one? We could have lunch while we talked. Would that be convenient?"

  "Well, I'm not sure. No, all right, yes. One. Are you sure you have time?"

  "All I've done so far is make two phone calls. Tomorrow then.