Joanna says, “Peter is fine. Do you want to see some pictures?”
Ruth starts to cry. “Yes. Where is he? His birthdays are the hardest times. Usually I just get very drunk the night before so I can feel like shit all day.”
“He’s in the city, now. Teaching at the university. Married to a really wonderful woman. Sarah. They have two children. A boy and a girl. Joseph and Eleanor. Eleanor looks so much like you it’s eerie, Ruth.”
“Does he know? Did you tell him?”
“We did what you wanted. As far as he’s concerned you’re his aunt, long missing, but his aunt anyway. We’ve always talked about you. I have all the pictures that Mom and Dad took. We used to go through them now and then when he was young. You can be proud, Ruthie. He’s a great father and husband.”
“I can’t take any pride in that. You raised him.”
“But he’s strong, Ruth. Stronger than I ever have been. That came from you,” says Matthew.
“Hell. I can’t even fling myself into the ocean when I want to. No. Whatever he is he got from you two. I want to see him. I won’t give away our secret. No matter what. I have to get back soon. A crazy old lady is threatening to die and I should be there I guess, or the others will fall apart and I’d hate to have to clean up that mess. Besides, I may have a date with the courts.”
Ginny Mustard is planning her wedding. Well, she’s not doing all that much really, but Maggie and Judy are having a great time. The guest list is a little ragged what with so many of the invited having no known address but Ginny Mustard has an idea where most of them are hanging out and Joe Snake, the groom, stuck up a notice at the Ocean Bar and Grill for anyone they migb have forgotten. The reason Ginny Mustard has decided to marry is that she likes Joe Snake a lot and she wants to have a baby since the police took her pink blanket of little bones and arranged a burial after they determined that there had been no foul play in its death. Mrs. Miflin had become suddenly lucid one day and told Patrick all about the secret in the attic and what she had done. And for some reason that no one can fathom it’s okay to have a jar of ashes kicking around your house but if a body hasn’t been burned beyond recognition it has to go into the ground no matter how clean the remains, unless it’s a million years old and then it can go in a museum.
Patrick has worn himself out trying to keep Ginny Mustard from marrying. She is about to be tried for murder, after all. He is especially adamant that she not get herself pregnant since she’ll have to give the baby up if the jury finds her guilty anyway. But Joe Snake says he’ll look after the little one if there happens to be a little one and Ginny Mustard can see it on visiting days and forever after when her sentence has been served. Ginny Mustard listened politely to Patrick’s arguments against her plans and went ahead anyway. She likes him but he doesn’t make a lot of sense sometimes.
Joe Snake convinces Ginny Mustard that she should get her money out of her hockey socks and into a bank and she opens an account, insisting that it be joint so Joe Snake can withdraw money to take care of the baby and buy oranges and bananas to bring to the jail since Judy told her there is always a shortage of fruit there. He says that he can look after a family on his own wages, thank you, but succumbs to reason when she says he’d have to find something with decent hours when the baby comes if she is found guilty.
Everyone is happy that Ruth is back and in a better mood. Dorrie is especially pleased to have her car since there is so much running around to do. Ginny Mustard has to be in court on December first. They’re all in a mad rush to hold the wedding on November fifteenth so there can be a honeymoon and a few laughs before the season gets serious.
Ginny Mustard wants a formal wedding with a long white dress and she finds the perfect one at the second-hand store down the road. It is very old and has a good twenty pounds of tiny beads, just like pearls, on the bodice, and a veil with pretend satin flowers and blue ribbons that hang long. Dorrie thinks that unless it belonged to your mother or grandmother, it’s probably unlucky to wear someone else’s wedding dress but since Ginny Mustard seems to have such lousy luck anyway she doesn’t bother to air her views.
At first old Father Delaney is unwilling to perform the marriage ceremony but is persuaded after only a few minutes with Joe Snake. Father Delaney has always been afraid of tall men but until now has managed to counter his feelings of intimidation with the white collar. Joe Snake can see the priest’s fear and stays his ground until he receives the answer he wants. Joe Snake will do anything for Ginny Mustard. If she wants him and babies and Father Delaney he is happy to oblige.
The reception will take place at Mrs. Miflin’s house. Walls and floors have been scrubbed to within an inch of their lives. Ginny Mustard will make all of the food herself with help from Judy who found a book about weddings with all kinds of recipes for fancy morsels. They have cleaned out the corner fish store of scallops and shrimp and crab and are working on finding enough large mushrooms to stuff for the hoards who don’t eat as often as they might in a perfect world. With the freezer no longer occupied, and back in working order, much of the preparation is being done ahead of time and stored.
Since one wedding menu seems paltry, they are doing three and a few extra odds and ends. “Just in case,” says Ginny Mustard, “they don’t like fishy things and want a bit of roast beef and potato salad.” There is liquor stored from stem to stern. Since many of the guests have no telephones and few know what RSVP means - Dorrie had to translate for Ginny Mustard - they have no idea how many to expect and there’s nothing worse in this part of the world than leaving a party hungry and sober unless you are on a serious diet.
When Ruth arrives the smell of Murphy’s Oil Soap is enough to knock you over. It doesn’t take long to fill her in on the details of what she has missed, all of them talking at once. Judy got her first ever ‘A’, in math of all things, Eve is embroidering pillow cases, Mrs. Miflin is still nuts but she told about the baby, Maggie is alive and kicking, and Ginny Mustard is getting married.
“Well,” says Ruth. “I can’t beat that. I cleaned a house. Has Patrick come around?” Yes. Patrick came around. It’s a wonder he didn’t just move on in. You have to talk to him Ruth. He’s as miserable as a cut dog and he’s driving us all crazy. Call him for God’s sake. But Ruth waits. He’ll come around again and she’ll see him then.
She does have a call to make though, and has been trying hard on the drive home not to rehearse the conversation, not to think about her son, married to a real nice woman and with children of his own. She can’t imagine him grown. Even after looking at all of those photographs she only sees the tiny being he was when she met him, can still smell the sweet baby scent of him, can feel his soft hair on her cheek when she held him to her face and cried so hard. And he just blinked with his dear eyes all out of focus but he did look at her and he knew what she had to do.
Her brother was a gentle person. Good enough to attract another like him. Childless and longing for babies. Better than she could ever be to raise her son. And so she had bundled up the one who’d grown under her heart and said to Matthew, “Take him. He’s yours. Because I am our father and you aren’t. Don’t tell him about me. Don’t hurt him. Don’t call him names. If you ever raise a hand to him I’ll make sure that you don’t have a minute’s peace for as long as you live. If even once he sits at the top of the stairs and shivers and listens, I’ll know and I’ll be back.” And she had left him there. Had run as fast as she could through the years and now she will see the baby who is a man and say hello, I am your Aunt Ruth come back from the dead.
Ginny Mustard asks Eve if she can borrow all her pretty hats and gloves for some of the people who won’t have anything nice to wear to the wedding reception because once they see how fancy she looks they might like to dress up themselves. The clothesline is a rainbow of finery as the cold breeze distributes the scent of mothballs to the rest of Bishop’s Road.
Patrick has a handful of invitations for the policeman who spent time at the hou
se when they dug up Mr. Miflin. Dorrie especially likes the one with blond hair and hopes he might be free that evening, writes a personal note saying so. When Patrick sees the guest list he shudders. Tells them he’ll drag along as many cops as he can find. Wonders if they should carry arms. Bring outstanding warrants. Back-up.
Throughout downtown you can almost taste the excitement. In the alleyway just beyond the Sailors’ Inn, Mabel Porter has happened upon Dim Dinn and they are wondering what Ginny Mustard might like for a wedding present. Over at The Crossing are a few of the girls on the way to their corners for the evening, stopping to chat about what to wear and who would have thought that Ginny Mustard could do something so smart as marry Joe Snake, almost coming to blows when Betty Parsons wonders aloud if maybe he’s only in it for the money since Ginny Mustard is not that good a catch heading off to jail most likely. Betty is new to these streets and doesn’t know that Joe Snake can do no wrong so they let her off with a stern warning.
There never was such a time as Ginny Mustard’s wedding is shaping up to be. Celebration of the century, no doubt, and there is little else to talk about. The immediate neighbors get wind of it and are none too pleased that the dregs of humanity will congregate on Bishop’s Road so Ginny Mustard posts an invitation at the corner store and they stop complaining. Dig out their best clothes. Go shopping for gifts.
Mrs. Miflin gets in a real snit when she floats into reality for a minute here and there. Thinks about the mess her house will be when that crowd gets finished with it if they don’t burn it down with their cigarettes first. But she still refuses to get out of her chair by the window. Can’t seem to walk and is getting as big as the broad side of a barn just eating and sitting all the time. Eve has given up on her and it’s only when she starts banging on the floor with her crutches that anyone remembers she’s alive and brings her food or takes her to the bathroom.
When Ruth called Peter he was delighted to hear from her. Asked if he could come and get her, bring her to his home for a visit. But Ruth said, “No. Tell me where you live and I’ll get there on my own steam.” Turns out that his house is just a walk along the river, his back garden gate opening off the boardwalk, a path of brick leading to his kitchen and Ruth sets out in the crisp leafy air to see him. Passes Howard James with his new puppy who doesn’t look much happier than Harvey did.
Peter hugs Ruth when he answers his door, brings her inside. Introduces Sarah. Eleanor. Joseph who doesn’t like to be called Joey because he knows someone else named Joey who is mean at school. Ruth barely hears him, staring as she is at the little Eleanor who might be Ruth’s seven-year-old self, same dark eyes, same smile, same head of corkscrew curls.
Her son is beautiful. She searches his face again and again for clues that she did the wrong thing leaving him but there is nothing sad in him at all. He breathes affection. Peace. Acceptance. The way Ruth looks at Peter is not lost on Sarah. Ruth is Peter’s mother, she says to herself, and he doesn’t even know it. And that makes her the grandmother of my children not a great-aunt at all - and she smiles. Asks if Ruth would like to come to Sunday dinner and says she’ll walk her back along the river when she’s ready to go since she has to pick up a few things at the grocery store anyway. Eleanor and Joseph want to come too but Sarah tells them no. She wants some time of her own with Ruth and they can see as much of her as they want tomorrow. Sarah is not one to mince words. Tells Ruth that she suspects Peter is her son and not her nephew at all. No long lost aunt looks at a person that way. They stop walking. Stand silent for a few minutes by the cold water while Ruth ponders her next move. And she might have denied the truth forever if Sarah hadn’t put her hand gently on Ruth’s arm and looked at her as though she liked her and could forgive anything. So there was no choice, really.
“For three days after he was born I cried. Every time I looked at him so helpless in that silly plastic cot. Every time I picked him up and fed him or changed him, I cried. All I could think of was hurting him. I was so fucking afraid that I would hurt him. I didn’t sleep. I thought that I might strangle him in my dreams. I didn’t know what else to do so I gave him to Matthew. I don’t regret it. I wanted him so badly but I was too afraid that I was my father. He thought that if you smacked a three-month-old hard enough it would stop crying. My mother wasn’t much better. She stayed in her bed while he disciplined. Handed him the belt when he came in from the boats so he could teach us to mind her. She never hit us. Her specialty was emotional torture. And I bought it all. But Matthew - it’s as though it rolled right off him. I don’t understand how but it did. Something good got through to him in spite of all that went on.”
By now Sarah is crying and Ruth starts too and they have their arms around one another and Sarah whispers, “You poor, poor thing to have suffered so.”
Ruth sobs. “What a load of crap we mortals must endure. Hardly seems worth it sometimes. If the alternative weren’t so friggin’ much scarier we’d probably all hang ourselves before we hit kindergarten.”
Sarah laughs. Ruth laughs. And Sarah kisses Ruth on the cheek and tells her she’s happy to meet her. “And now you have to come around as often as you can. And get to know your grand-children and your son.”
But Ruth says, “Are you sure you want that? You don’t know where I’m coming from at all.”
“Well yes I do,” says Sarah. “You loved your baby enough to give him up. You might have done fine with him you know, but you really thought you couldn’t so you gave him up. That tells me more about you than anything else you will ever say or do. I want you to be part of our lives. My parents have seen Eleanor and Joseph once. They live on the other end of the country and find it difficult to get away. They’ve always been busy. I don’t remember a time when they weren’t rushing off to some event or other. I have no brothers or sisters. They didn’t even have time for that. And, of course, Peter is an only child as well. Perhaps that’s why we connected. We grew up lonely. I want my children to have people who matter in their lives. And here you are out of the blue. In my mind I’m setting a place for you at the Christmas table.”
“You know Sarah, you’re a bit too trusting. Not very realistic if you ask me. Why don’t you come to my home and see how Ruth lives. Tell me after you meet my family, if you want me within a hundred feet of yours.”
“You’re on,” says Sarah and they walk arm-in-arm to Bishop’s Road.
Dorrie’s surprise bridal shower is in full swing. A number of the guests are three sheets to the wind. There’s a game of strip Go Fish on in the Barbie room with several of the losers, hookers by the looks of them, down to their bras and thongs and Mrs. Miflin in their midst, fully clothed and winning. Seems that no one was going to sit at a window during this party and when Sassy Connors came upon the landlady in her search for a bathroom she rounded up a few of her friends and they carried the old woman chair and all to the card game. After the place had been eaten down to a shambles Ginny Mustard checked her supplies and will have to spend the next four days cooking if she’s to have enough for the wedding reception.
“Well?” says Ruth. “What do you think, Sarah? What do you think of my family? Did I happen to mention that I have obstructed justice? Do you really want your children hanging out with a woman who knows people like this crowd?”
“I wouldn’t mind staying if it’s all the same to you. I know I wasn’t invited but I doubt that anyone will notice an extra body. Before I had the children I worked at a halfway house. I’m pretty sure I recognize a couple of the guests. Why don’t you offer me a drink? And if you show me where the phone is I’ll call Peter and tell him I’ll be home later on.”
“These people are losers, Sarah.”
“I know who they are, Ruth. And there but for the Grace of God go you or I.”
“I’m already one of them. Don’t think for a minute I’m not.”
“Right. I don’t consider that a problem. I’d love to meet the bride-to-be. Is that her over there?”
“That’s her.
Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
The party winds down around midnight. Sarah stays to help clean up and is invited to the wedding for her troubles. Before they leave the ladies help themselves to gloves and hats and Betty Parsons takes two of the kittens. Many of the guests will spend Monday at the thrift shops digging through old dresses and shoes to find something to match. The rest of the country upped the prices of relics from the forties some time ago but here in this city you can still pick up a good formal gown for a couple of dollars whenever some old woman passes on to her heavenly reward and her own daughters don’t want her tatty clothes, send them to the poor unfortunate.
In the morning Ginny Mustard and Judy take stock of the remaining food and make a list of essentials so they can begin again tomorrow. But this is a day of rest and hangovers and the list is a long time growing. “They ate all the shrimp and roast beef,” says Judy, “but I think the turkey is still there and they didn’t touch the scallops or the cookies. That’s good. I don’t think it’s as bad as all that and if you like, me and Maggs can help after school.”
Patrick is waiting when Ruth finally emerges from sleep. Since Ginny Mustard has decided to take full responsibility for the murder, freezing and eventual burying of Mr. Miflin, no one else will be charged in the case, leaving Ruth and the others off the hook.
“Well. That hardly seems right, does it? I’m the one who suggested we freeze him in the first place so the silly thing wouldn’t have to go to prison for the rest of her life. I’m the one who told the others to go out and get trees to plant over the body.”
Bishop's Road Page 12
