The Sea Star

by Nash, Jean

  Some nights, when he was leaving the hotel, she would reach up to embrace him, twine her fingers in his hair, and press tantalizing kisses to the strong curve of his jaw. Jay would withstand her ardent aggression for as long as he could, then his arms would go around her, his mouth would capture hers, roughly, possessively, and he would kiss her until she was helpless and aching with desire.

  Once, late at night in her office, he almost gave in to his instincts. Susanna felt the change in him, the tensing of his body as he pressed close to her, the deep probing passion of his kisses. His hands bit into her flesh, his ragged breath mingled hotly with hers. She wanted him so desperately, she wanted all his love. Now, she thought feverishly, now he’ll finally make love to me. But to her astonishment and disappointment he did not. He got angry.

  “This has to end,” he said hoarsely, holding her close in his arms. “We can’t continue doing this, Susanna. Sooner or later, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop,” she said, aroused by the heat of his trembling body.

  “I know you don’t!” His arms tightened, crushing the breath from her lungs. “That’s what makes it so hard for me to do so.”

  It was times like these that she missed having a confidant to whom she could pour out her heart. Her work at the hotel had always precluded such relationships. She’d been too involved with the Sea Star to form close friendships. Dallas had filled that void when they were younger. She’d confided many of her youthful joys and fears in him. She considered doing so now about Jay, then vetoed the idea. Dallas had changed in the past few months. He was different, distant, no longer the “little brother” with whom she had once shared so much.

  She said to him several weeks after the dinner with Jay and Augusta, “Where have you been keeping yourself lately? I’ve hardly seen you since Mother came back.”

  “Oh, here and there,” Dallas said negligently.

  It was an unseasonably warm mid-November morning. They were on their way to church, alone with each other for the first time in months. Dallas usually attended Sunday services with his mother, but today, Augusta had gone for a drive with Ford Weston, whom she was now seeing on a regular basis. Susanna was glad to have Dallas all to herself, but their old closeness, the special intimacy between them, seemed a thing from the past, like their long-vanished childhood.

  “Here and there?” Susanna eyed him askance. “That doesn’t tell me much.” And then, remembering something Augusta had mentioned: “What were you doing in Brigantine a few weeks ago? Mother said you had some business there.”

  “So I did,” Dallas said with a mysterious smile.

  “What kind of business?”

  “I bought an interest in Peter’s Beach.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, horrified. Susanna had heard of that infamous place. Peter’s Beach was not a beach at all, but a two-story frame house situated on a small island across Absecon Inlet. Its only access was by boat, and the boatman did a brisk trade, for the establishment was noted for an excellent bar, high-stakes gambling rooms, and a staff of congenial “hostesses” who catered to a customer’s every need. “You bought a gambling house. Dallas, no!”

  “Sunny, yes!” he mimicked her.

  “Where did you get the money?”

  He hesitated for no more than a second. “I’ve had a long run of good luck at Dutchy’s.”

  “But, Dallas, a gambling house.”

  “Why not?” His tone was defensive. “God knows I’ve lost my share at those places. It’s poetic justice that I should now be on the other side of the roulette wheel.”

  It briefly occurred to Susanna that Dallas might have used his windfall to buy back his half of the Sea Star from Jay instead of investing it in another business. But then she chided herself for her selfishness. Dallas surely had the right to spend his money in his own interest. And yet, to have bought into such a notorious establishment....

  “Dallas, why in the name of heaven did you do such a thing? Peter’s Beach is a scandal! Besides its dreadful reputation, the building is as old as the hills. The Brigantine town officials have been trying for years to have the property condemned.”

  “With no success, you’ll notice,” he scoffed. “Sunny, think how much revenue they’d lose if Peter’s Beach closed its doors.”

  “What’s happened to you?” she demanded, incensed by his attitude. “You owned one of the most respected hotels on the island. How could you toss it away so lightly and then turn around and invest in a wreck like Peter’s Beach?”

  “Because it’ll be mine!” he shot back at her. “Charley Smith, the owner, has assured me that I’ll have an important say in running the place, which is something I never had while I was the titular part owner of the Sea Star.”

  His contempt stopped Susanna in her tracks. She stood stock still in the middle of Delaware Avenue and would have been knocked down by a team of galloping horses if Dallas hadn’t pulled her swiftly out of their path.

  “Are you blind?” he shouted, pushing her roughly onto the sidewalk. “You were almost killed, for God’s sake!”

  She didn’t answer. She felt numb, stupefied, partly from the scare but more from the shock of Dallas’s harsh words. Is that what he had considered himself for the past two years, part owner of the Sea Star in name only? Susanna had never meant for him to feel that way. She had tried her best to involve him in the hotel’s operation. He had always resisted her, never showing the slightest interest in the Sea Star. It was almost as if he hated it. And now, the way he was glaring at her, it was almost as if he hated her.

  “Dallas....” Her throat was bone-dry. It was difficult to speak. “I never realized you felt that way. Why didn’t you ever talk to me about it?”

  He laughed coldly. “There’s no talking to you when it comes to the Sea Star. It was always yours—yours and Papa’s. I was invisible as far as you two were concerned. Mama must have felt the same way when she was living with us. That’s probably why she left, you know. But you’re so obsessed with your precious hotel that you can’t begin to understand what made her leave.”

  Susanna felt dangerously close to tears. The news of Peter’s Beach, the fright of the near-accident, and Dallas’s startling accusations all struck her at the same time.

  Dallas peered at her. “You’re not going to cry, are you?” He had never seen Susanna cry—not when Augusta left them, not even when Matthew died. Afraid she might do so now, right there on a public street, he said nervously, “Sunny, I’m sorry if I upset you. People are looking at us. Come, let’s go home.”

  She resisted his pull on her arm. Unmindful of the passersby who glanced in her direction, she stood her ground. “Dallas, how can you say such a thing? I never ignored you, never!”

  “Sunny, let’s not debate the issue here. Let’s go home.”

  “No. Not until you explain yourself.”

  He took firm hold of her arm and directed her toward Pacific Avenue. “I’m not going to explain anything in front of an audience. In any case, there’s nothing to explain.”

  “Yes there is,” she insisted, stumbling alongside him as he practically dragged her down the street. “I never made you feel invisible. And Papa....he loved you, Dallas, he really did.”

  “Papa loved nothing and no one except the Sea Star,” Dallas said bitterly. “Why do you think he never drafted a will? It was because he couldn’t bear to think that someone other than he would own his sanctified hotel.”

  “That’s not true!” she cried. “Why are you saying such cruel things? You’re the one who never wanted the Sea Star. Why are you twisting everything? And why did you invest in that sordid Peter’s Beach?”

  “Because I wanted to!” He turned on her furiously. “I wanted to, not you or Papa or the powers that be.”

  “That’s a wonderful reason,” she raged back at him. “You invested in a tawdry gambling house just to spite Papa and me.”

  “Shut your mouth!” he said violently. “I
’ve made my decision, and you’re not going to change it, no matter how you belittle what I’ve done. You’re my sister, Sunny, not my keeper, and from now on I’ll thank you to keep your short-sighted, single-minded opinions to yourself.”

  Dallas moved out of the Sea Star that very same morning. Over Susanna’s penitent protests, he packed some of his clothes and left instructions for George Watkins to have the rest of his things forwarded to his new lodgings at Peter’s Beach. Susanna felt so guilty for having caused him to leave that she turned to her mother for help in bringing him back. Never once did she stop to think how much she disliked and distrusted her.

  “But what can I do?” Augusta asked in response to Susanna’s plea. “Dallas is of age. If he wants to live elsewhere, that’s his choice.”

  “Mother, he doesn’t want to live elsewhere. Didn’t you hear what I just told you? Our quarrel forced him to leave. He thinks I’m trying to run his life and that I never really cared about him. Oh, how can he think that I never cared about him?”

  “Hush, darling, calm yourself.”

  Augusta slipped an arm about Susanna’s shoulders, led her up the front steps, and urged her to sit on one of the wicker chairs that dotted the Sea Star’s latticework front porch. Ford Weston was with them. Susanna had been waiting on pins and needles in front of the hotel for the couple to return from their drive. As soon as they stepped out of the carriage, she had bombarded Augusta with a rambling account of her altercation with Dallas.

  “I’m sure your brother knows very well how much he means to you,” Augusta assured her. “Family quarrels are the worst, Susanna. Only those who love each other can hurt each other so deeply.”

  She turned to Ford, who was watching Susanna with compassion. “Darling, would you have some tea sent out here?”

  Darling? Despite Susanna’s distress, the endearment caught her notice. Was Augusta forming a romantic attachment to a man whose only interest in her was to obtain information for his employer?

  Ford went into the lobby. Augusta drew up a chair next to Susanna. “Now tell me everything about the quarrel.”

  Susanna was oddly reminded of a day years ago when she had run into her mother’s arms, sobbing brokenheartedly over some childhood disappointment. She couldn’t recall what had troubled her at the time. She did remember, though, the sound of Augusta’s voice, gentle and comforting, the way a loving mother’s voice sounded, the way it sounded to Susanna now.

  “It was awful,” Susanna began, then went on to relate the details of the quarrel. When she finished, Augusta said with a distress that was genuine, “Susanna, it breaks my heart to see you and Dallas at odds. When I first returned to Atlantic City and saw how close you two were, it mitigated my guilt for having left you. But now, hearing this....”

  Her face behind her veil was bleak. For the first time since her return, Susanna looked at her mother with eyes undistorted by animosity and suspicion. “It breaks my heart,” she had said. And Susanna believed her. What pain of her own did Augusta harbor? What lonely torment had kept her separated for years from the children she so obviously loved?

  “Mother,” she said hesitantly, forgetting for the moment her concern for Dallas, “why did you leave us? Was it Papa’s fault?”

  Augusta looked uncomfortable. “That’s a difficult question to answer, Susanna.”

  “Why? Either it was his fault or it wasn’t.”

  Augusta gave her a melancholy smile. “If only life were that simple, darling. If only all problems could be solved by a yes or no answer. But I’m afraid that isn’t the case.”

  Ford stepped out on the porch, followed by a waiter carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches.

  “Set it down on the table, Frank,” Augusta said to the waiter. “We’ll serve ourselves, thank you.”

  The waiter complied and left. Ford sat down and said to Susanna, “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve telephoned Jay and told him what’s happened. He’s coming right over.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered him,” Susanna said ruefully. But she was glad that he cared enough to come.

  She felt cold all of a sudden, though the day was pleasant. “Mother, I’m going upstairs to get a wrap. When Jay comes, please send him up.”

  “Of course, darling. Will you be all right? Do you want me to come up with you?”

  “Thank you, no.” Her gratitude was sincere. “You stay here with Ford and have your tea.”

  Up in her room, Susanna took a shawl from the peg hook and wrapped it around her shoulders. She wandered to the window and looked out into the distance where the sea surged and shimmered against a silvery blue sky. How clean and uncomplicated the scene looked, unlike the murky tangle her life had become.

  Where had she gone wrong? What mistakes had she made with Dallas that had turned him into a hostile stranger? She kept hearing his harsh words. She kept seeing his face, an alien’s face. He had reached back into the past with a merciless hand and held up for Susanna’s view a distorted portrait of all the beautiful memories she held dear.

  It wasn’t true, what he’d said about their father. He loved nothing and no one but the Sea Star. Matthew had been a bit insensitive where his son was concerned, but that was only because he’d been so profoundly hurt by Augusta’s abandonment. Surely that proved that he’d been capable of experiencing deep emotion.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She flew to answer it.

  “Oh, Jay, I’m so glad you’re here!”

  She flung her arms about his neck, nearly knocking him off balance. He closed the door behind him, then drew her close and held her tightly while she blurted out the morning’s events.

  “I know,” he said soothingly as she rambled on. “Ford told me some of it over the telephone and your mother told me the rest when I arrived. Susanna, sit down. I want to talk to you.”

  He directed her to the rocker, pulled up the vanity stool for himself, then took both her hands in his. His touch, his very presence, was a calming restorative. How had she ever survived without the rocklike foundation of his love?

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said again, drawing strength from the warmth of his hands.

  “You should have telephoned me at once,” he said sternly.

  “I didn’t want to bother you with a tedious family dispute.”

  “Susanna, this is slightly more serious than a simple dispute. Do you realize what your brother’s gotten himself into? Peter’s Beach is an abomination that should have been razed twenty years ago. The house is the worst firetrap in Atlantic City. The piling it stands on is rotting. Drunken revelries go on there night and day. If someone is careless with a match, the place will go up like a tinderbox. Have you ever been involved in a fire?” His voice shook. “Have you ever seen someone burn to death before your eyes?”

  His unexpected tirade took Susanna aback, but she understood what had prompted it. Her gaze was drawn to his hands gripping hers. The ridged scars stood out, white and taut, testimony to a tragedy he had not yet put to rest.

  “By buying an interest in that property,” he drove on, “your brother has become directly responsible for endangering countless lives. I sensed when I first met him that he was a self-serving conniver, but I never dreamed he’d stoop so low as to—”

  “Oh, don’t,” she cried softly, sympathetic to Jay’s reasoning but compelled to defend her brother. “Don’t misjudge him as everyone else does. I know he can be troublesome, but he can’t help himself. He had the most wretched childhood. My father wasn’t as...loving to him as he might have been. Sometimes he goes wrong because he’s haunted so much by the past.”

  “That’s tommyrot,” Jay grated. “Dallas isn’t a child. Whatever he does now is in no way related to what happened in his youth. He’s a man who must answer for his actions, not blame them on events that occurred over a decade ago.”

  “You don’t understand him, Jay. He is a man, but underneath he’s just an unhappy child.”

  “A child?”
Jay said contemptuously. “He’s older than Lucifer and twice more devious.”

  “That’s a hideous thing to say!” She wrenched her hands from his. “You don’t know the first thing about him. How dare you sit there and hurl epithets when your own dealings with him are more devious than anything he’s done?”

  “What the devil are you talking about?”

  “About the Sea Star,” she accused him, her sudden anger shocking her even more than it did Jay. “For a paltry five thousand dollars, you stole his inheritance!”

  “Five thousand dollars?” Jay’s eyes darkened dangerously. “Is that what he told you?”

  “Yes! He told me everything. About how you’d always wanted the Sea Star, about how you approached him and offered to pay off his gambling debt.”

  “By any chance,” Jay said, his voice deadly low, “did your brother mention an additional sum of money involved in that transaction?”

  “What money?”

  “The fifteen thousand dollars I gave him to seal the bargain.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said shortly, but her anger became integrated with doubt and confusion.

  “Why should I lie about it, Susanna?”

  “Why should Dallas?”

  “Some people lie,” Jay pointed out, “when the truth is ineffective in achieving an end.”

  “Not Dallas!” she said heatedly. “He would never lie to me. I don’t know about you, though. I thought I knew you, but it seems I don’t. What you did to my brother was low and underhanded, and I hated you for it. Now...now I don’t know if I still love you. I don’t know what I feel.”

  She rose from the rocker, groping dizzily for stability in a chaotically spinning world. The comfort Jay had initially brought with him had turned to tumult. Tears stung her eyes, but she dashed them away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying.