“I’ve never been to a birthday party this big.”
“Small town, big parties—it’s hard not to invite just about everyone.”
“And they all came,” Kira marveled.
“Most of them,” Ad said as he set the bowl down on a worktable in the center of the room and opened an industrial refrigerator to take out a container of potato salad.
He brought the container to the worktable and began to refill the bowl. “I expected a big turnout,” he said. “This is the first time we’ve really been able to celebrate Cutty’s birthday. Or anything else with him. Not many people would have missed it.”
“Why is this the first time you’ve been able to celebrate anything with him?” Kira asked.
“Marla would never have come to something like this. Cutty wouldn’t have come without her, so no parties,” Ad finished matter-of-factly.
“Why wouldn’t Marla have come?”
“It wouldn’t have been a place for Anthony, and she wouldn’t have left him home with a sitter.”
“Ever?”
“She was pretty adamant about being the one to take care of him. She left him with Cutty of course. But no one else.”
“Wow. She really was devoted to him,” Kira remarked.
Ad didn’t say anything to that. He also didn’t seem to want to look Kira in the eye and instead became very interested in the potato salad.
For some reason it made Kira suspicious. “Wasn’t she devoted to him? That’s what Betty said.”
“Sure she was.”
There wasn’t much conviction in that and it sparked a memory in Kira of the evening Ad had come to help with the twins while Cutty did the interview with the college-newspaper reporter. He’d started to say something that night and then cut himself off, saying he didn’t want to tell tales out of school. Together with this now, it roused Kira’s curiosity.
“Do you know something no one else does?” she joked.
Still, she expected him to say no. But instead he said, “Come on, this is a party. No serious talk.”
So there was something serious to talk about?
“We’re taking a break from the party, remember?” Kira said. “What do you know about my sister that no one else does?”
Ad frowned at her. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
“I just had a lot of time behind the scenes that other people didn’t have, that’s all.”
“And were things different behind the scenes than they were on the stage?”
“You don’t want to talk about this.”
The more he tried not to, the more Kira did want to talk about it. So she pressed him. “Didn’t you think as highly of Marla as Betty and everyone else around here seems to?”
“Marla was one of a kind,” Ad said.
“That’s the sort of thing that can either be a compliment or a criticism. Which is it?”
“I wouldn’t criticize Marla. In a lot of ways she was a tortured soul.”
“Because of Anthony?”
“There was more to it than that. Anthony was just one of the ways it came out.”
He didn’t offer any explanation, though, and in order to encourage him Kira said, “You know, I loved my sister but I didn’t get to know her as an adult and from everything I’ve heard about her since I’ve been in Northbridge, she was too good to be true. I’d kind of like to know who she really was.”
Ad finished filling the bowl, closed the container and replaced it in the refrigerator. Then he returned to stand at the worktable across from Kira.
“How about if I just say Marla was driven and leave it at that?” Ad suggested.
“A driven, tortured soul,” Kira repeated. “That’s a lot different than anything else I’ve heard about her.”
Ad didn’t comment one way or another.
Kira thought maybe if she opened up to him a little he might open up to her, so she said, “You know, it hasn’t been easy being Marla’s younger sister. It’s like she’s always been just ahead of me, raising the bar. Even now, it’s as if she’s some kind of icon around here. I’d really just like to know the truth. Maybe to know she was only human, like the rest of us.”
Ad hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time she’d been talking and Kira could tell she’d gotten through to him, that he was considering being honest with her.
But even when he did speak again he was still hedging.
“Marla was smart and talented and accomplished and good at just about everything.”
“But…” Kira prompted with what seemed to be about to come after that.
Rather than continuing, though, Ad said, “Cutty wouldn’t tell you this. He’d say it was all water under the bridge. That Marla’s gone and none of it matters anymore. He sure as hell wouldn’t say it to her sister, of all people.”
“Then if you don’t tell me I’ll never know.”
“You don’t need to know,” Ad reasoned.
But Kira thought that she did. For her own sake, because she was trying so hard to meet her sister’s standards. And because she wanted to know everything she could about Cutty. About his past and what made him tick.
“I’d really like to know the truth,” she said. “And I am family. It isn’t as if you’d be gossiping.”
Ad still wasn’t eager to tell her what she wanted to know, and for a moment more he searched her face while he seemed to be deciding what to do.
But apparently her heartfelt, “Please,” convinced him because he sighed and gave in.
“Marla was a very intense person. That didn’t make her easy to live with. Not that Cutty complained, he didn’t. I’m just saying that if I had been in his shoes, I couldn’t have been married to Marla.”
“Why not?”
“Everybody around here thought she was some kind of saint, or superwoman because that’s what she tried to be. That’s what she was determined to be. It was like a compulsion or something. She could never give up, she could never accept things the way they were, she could never stop trying to be the best at…” Ad stopped as if he felt he was getting carried away. “Let’s just say that it didn’t make for any kind of relaxed, balanced life. Not for her or for people who lived with her.”
“Believe it or not,” Kira said to encourage him, “I understand what you’re saying. You could be describing Marla’s father—my adoptive father.”
“So you know what it’s like to live with.”
“Too well. My father was more rigid than anyone outside the house knew.”
“Rigid—that’s a good way to put it. Marla was definitely rigid. And completely intolerant of even small things that went wrong. Or, for instance, something being half an inch out of place. She’d just go ballistic until everything was where she wanted it. Exactly where she wanted it.”
Which explained Betty, and even Ad, stressing that to her when they’d helped around the house, Kira thought.
“She also had schedules for everything,” Ad continued. “Schedules and routines that had to be followed or she just…exploded. And as for that devotion to Anthony?”
Ad cut himself short again suddenly, as if he’d said too much already.
“It’s okay. This is important for me to know,” Kira assured.
Still Ad hesitated. “I don’t want it to sound as if I didn’t like Marla. Really, it was just sad. It was really, really sad to watch someone push herself and everybody close to her the way she did. And when it came to Anthony—” Ad shook his head. “Well, Marla needed things—and people—to be unflawed.”
“And an autistic child is further away from that than a normal child,” Kira guessed.
Ad nodded, looking as sad as he’d said the situation was. “They didn’t realize Anthony was autistic until he was about two,” he continued. “Before that it just seemed like he wasn’t interested in the things babies can be entertained with or distracted by. He was just kind of unresponsive. But the doctor knew it wasn’t right and tha
t was when they figured out he was autistic. Marla came unglued when she heard that. She needed things to be perfect and Anthony wasn’t. And after she went behind Cutty’s back to call your father—”
“I didn’t know she’d called him,” Kira confessed, thinking that her call must have been the contact Cutty had said Marla had with the family after they’d eloped. “I take it my father wasn’t sympathetic?”
“He told her she’d gotten what she deserved. That Anthony being autistic was her punishment. And that he wouldn’t have any part of it, nor would he do anything to help out. I believe the you-made-your-bed-now-lie-in-it card was the end of the conversation.”
Kira closed her eyes as her heart went out to the young Marla, imagining the desperation her sister must have felt.
“He was like that,” Kira confirmed in a near whisper when she opened her eyes.
“After that,” Ad went on, “Marla did what she did with everything—she tried harder. She tried desperately to make Anthony normal. To teach him. To control him. To get the autism out of him as if it were something that had possessed him and not just the way he was.”
Ad paused, shook his head again, and then said, “I’m sorry. This is hardly a story to tell at a party.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to know.” Then, thinking beyond all that Ad had told her, she said, “None of this could have been good for Cutty and Marla’s marriage.”
“No, it wasn’t. Plus, it was a teenage, shotgun marriage as it was, and Marla’s relationship with Cutty was the one thing she took for granted. The one thing she didn’t work at. And even though Cutty tried to make it a real marriage—and he tried as hard at that as Marla tried for perfection in everything else—there just wasn’t much there.”
“So where did the twins come from?” Kira asked, not challenging what Ad was telling her, just confused.
“That was my doing.”
Kira’s eyes widened and Ad grimaced. “That didn’t come out right. Here’s the thing. I knew what Cutty went through trying to please Marla, trying to make the marriage a real one, and I also knew he needed a break himself. They’d never had a honeymoon or a single vacation, so for their anniversary I got together with friends—” Ad pointed his chin in the direction from which the party was still going strong. “A whole bunch of us pitched in, made the arrangements and gave them a trip to the Bahamas.”
“What about Anthony?”
“Marla didn’t want to leave him, but with popular opinion urging her on, she also couldn’t look ungrateful, so she conceded.”
“Who watched him?”
“He was familiar with my sister and me so we moved into the house with him to keep him in his same surroundings.”
“Did he do okay with that?”
“He was fine. But Marla wasn’t. She and Cutty were supposed to be gone for seven days but she made him come home after two.”
“And the twins? You still haven’t explained how you’re responsible for them.”
“There was one night on the trip… That’s where the twins came from. One night that ended up making the tension at home even worse and, even though Cutty never said it straight-out, my impression was that it was one night that proved to him that he didn’t really have any marriage at all. That they were both just going through the motions. When they got back, Marla moved out of their bedroom into the guest room, and Cutty was sleeping on the couch from then until about six months ago when he got rid of the old bedroom furniture, bought new stuff and started to use the room again.”
“But they never considered divorce?” Kira asked.
“Marla would have never admitted a failure like that, and Cutty would never have left her or Anthony,” Ad said. “So they kept up the appearance of a happy marriage. An appearance that was helped along with Marla’s pregnancy and having the twins. But underneath the surface, there was no substance.”
Ad finished on a solemn note. He glanced in the direction of the party once more, but it was clear that only Cutty was on his mind and Kira thought he was worrying that his friend wouldn’t have wanted him to say all he just had.
“He won’t have to know unless you tell him yourself,” Kira said, guessing what was going through Ad’s mind.
But before Ad could confirm or deny it, one of the swinging doors opened and in popped Cutty’s head.
“Hey, what’re you two doing? The party’s out here,” he said jovially.
“You caught us,” Ad joked. “I’m trying to steal her away.”
“I knew that dress was going to knock ’em dead tonight,” Cutty countered. Then he brought his cane through the opening of the doors and waved it like a weapon at Ad, laughing as he threatened, “Don’t make me use this on you.”
“My skull’s already cracked,” Ad joked in return.
“I’m headed for the facilities but when I get back I’d better see you filling out the ranks of this party,” Cutty said then. “If I have to do this, so do the both of you,” he added as if he wasn’t having a good time when it was clear he was.
“On our way,” Ad answered.
“You better be.”
Cutty retreated and the doors swung shut after him, leaving Kira and Ad alone again.
Kira pushed off the sink’s edge as Ad picked up the bowl of potato salad so they could follow him.
“Thanks for telling me all this,” Kira said along the way.
They reached the doors and Ad raised a hand to one of them to push it open. But before he did he paused to look down at her.
“I might as well tell you one more thing while I’m at it,” he said.
“There’s more?”
“Only about Cutty. That big mug he just poked in here? I haven’t seen it as happy as that until this last week you’ve been around. Call me silly, but I’m beginning to think it has something to do with you.”
Ad pushed open the door and waited for her to go through it ahead of him.
Kira did, working to hide the fact that while everything he’d told her about Marla hadn’t been as much of a shock to her as he might have thought it was, that last comment had really rocked her.
The party didn’t end until after two in the morning, despite the fact that it was a Tuesday night. With the exception of Ad—who lived above the restaurant and also needed to lock up—Kira and Cutty were the last to leave after Cutty had said good-night to each of his guests and thanked Ad for everything.
The drive home was quick since the restaurant was only a few blocks from Cutty’s house. Along the way Cutty and Kira talked about the wisdom in taking Ad’s sister up on her offer to have the twins stay at her house for the night. They agreed they would have felt guilty if teenage Tiffy had been waiting this long for their return.
There was no one stirring on the block as they pulled into the driveway, and not so much as a light on in any house. Maybe that was why neither of them said anything as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Even as Cutty unlocked it and opened it for Kira they didn’t disturb the silence of the sleeping night.
Only after the door was closed behind them did Cutty say, “I know it’s late but I don’t feel tired.”
Kira didn’t, either. Or maybe it was just that after a busy day and evening full of well-wishers, what she did feel was that she had barely seen Cutty and that she wanted to have that end-of-the-evening time alone with him in spite of how late that particular evening was ending.
“We’re still probably wired from all that celebrating,” she said. “But it is late,” she added, just because it seemed as if she should.
“Yeah, I suppose it is. How about if I at least walk you all the way to your door tonight, though?”
“Your ankle isn’t killing you?”
Cutty smiled a devilish smile she could only see in the moon glow that came through the glass in the upper half of the front door since they hadn’t turned on a light. “I’m not feeling any pain at all,” he assured.
“Magic ginger ale?”
�
�It must have been.”
They went down the entry hall to the kitchen, not turning on a light there, either, and out the back door into the stillness of the backyard.
“So, did you have a good time?” Cutty asked as they crossed slowly to the garage apartment. “Or were you bored out of your mind being with so many people you didn’t know?”
“I had a great time,” Kira said, meaning it. “I haven’t met anyone in Northbridge I haven’t liked.”
They reached the garage but Kira was still in no hurry to lose Cutty’s company so even though she unlocked her door, she didn’t open it or make any move to say good-night.
Cutty didn’t, either. Instead he said, “What were you and Ad talking about when I found you in the kitchen? It seemed serious.”
That was a question Kira had been hoping he wouldn’t ask. But now that he had, she opted for being vague. “We were talking about you.” Sort of. “You’re really close—you and Ad—aren’t you?”
“I never had a brother but I don’t think I could be closer to one than I am to Ad.”
“From what I’ve seen I’d say he feels the same about you,” Kira said, hoping that was as far as the subject went.
It was, because Cutty seemed more interested in her than in talking about Ad as those green eyes did a slow roll downward and back up again. “You know, you look spectacular tonight,” he said then.
“I wasn’t ashamed to be seen with you, either,” she countered, taking in the sight of him in a pair of charcoal-colored slacks and a black mock-turtleneck dress T-shirt that made him look far too dashing to be a small-town cop.
“I had two different guys grilling me about you,” Cutty told her. “They both wanted to know if they could give you a call and ask you out while you’re here.”
“And what did you tell them?” Where did that coy, flirty tone of voice come from?
“I told them to keep their distance,” he said in a way that left her wondering if he was kidding her.
“Would I have liked them?” she countered.
The devilishness quotient in his smile increased. “Not as well as you like me.”
Babies in the Bargain Page 15
