I want to be a fancy lady and eat steak and potatoes and asparagus for lunch.
I want to own a newspaper company when I grow up. Maybe when I do, I’ll buy you a fancy dress and I’ll take you to a fancy lunch.
I’d like that, Angelo.
I’d like that, too, Kid.
Of course, those were the days when she was no more than a substitute kid sister to him and he saw it as no more than an indulgence of a child’s whims. A continual filling in of the hole that guilt had left in his heart.
But it was different now. This Angelo had eyes that spoke of love for her. The look she’d always hoped for.
I know about you and Angelo.
The look that she couldn’t allow herself to return.
Vera shifted in her chair. “I can’t believe you remember such a silly thing.”
“I remember everything we’ve ever talked about, Vera. How you love to draw whenever you can get enough money together for materials. How every time your mother’s birthday or the anniversary of her death rolls around, you pin a flower to your collar. Even if it was just a weed—a dandelion. How you pore over every magazine that ever had a picture of an island on it. I remember, Vera.”
Her heart pounded. She’d wanted to hear these kinds of things for him for as long as she could remember. But this was not the time or place.
He leaned into her and recaptured the hands that she’d pulled away. His words benumbed her, and she couldn’t move or speak.
“I remember how much it hurt to be away from you for all these years. There was never a day that I didn’t think of you. Ache for you, Vera.”
She tried to steady her breathing. She loved him so very much. But she couldn’t tell him that she felt the very same thing.
He continued. The look in his eyes made her want to break in two. “You’ve been a part of my fabric for half my life, and I was a fool not to see it in time. I understood your reasons for leaving, though, and I didn’t pursue you. But don’t think my absence meant that I haven’t thought of you every time I walked by this station or kicked a stone or breathed.”
She felt the heat of his breath as he spoke the words. She brushed her hand along his cheek and pushed him back just enough that she could look at him directly. And put an end to this.
I know about you and Angelo.
“Amore mio,” she whispered. “There are days when my resolve weakened and I wanted to walk down the street just to see you. But nothing has changed. You are a married man. Pearl is my friend. We cannot continue this. And I don’t know why you’re making this so difficult.”
“You don’t understand, Vera.”
The bartender arrived with a large tray. Two plates were covered with steel lids. He draped a bar rag over his arm and unveiled the food with a flair.
“First-class service at my third-class counter. How do ya like that?”
Angelo laughed. “I’m more grateful than you could know.”
The bartender slid a paper across the counter. Vera saw that it came to four dollars and some change.
Four dollars! All that it could buy for Will. Had Angelo forgotten that he’d accepted the role of father?
She looked at the steak. It looked just as delicious as she’d always imagined it would. It stood an inch tall with juices pooling onto the plate, turning the white tips of the potatoes pink. She really, really wanted to try it. But guilt overwhelmed any rumblings of her stomach.
“Mangia,” said Angelo, already cutting into his own.
“I—I can’t,” she said, hoping that the regret in her voice wasn’t as audible as it felt. She put down the fork and knife she’d been holding. “I can’t, Angelo. We shouldn’t be here. This isn’t fair to Pearl.”
“But Vera—”
She smelled the steak and thought for one half second that she should eat it before she did what she was about to do. But if she was going to deny him whatever he might be wanting to ask of her, she was certainly not entitled to the generosity of this meal. She’d thought they could eat together as friends, but Angelo had made that impossible.
She stood up and pushed her plate away. “I was right to stay away for three years. This feels like no time has passed since that night in the hostel. I left then, and I’m leaving now. I’m sorry you rushed into a marriage and later regretted it, but I’m not going to play party to adultery.”
“What are you talking about, Vera?”
What could he mean? Had he not heard himself say these things?
Because he was tearing her heart apart with longing for what couldn’t be. What might have been. If she stayed a minute longer, she might just be tempted—too tempted—to walk the road he was leading down.
“Whatever game you’re playing at, this is not the Angelo I knew growing up. The one who valued loyalty and tradition. If this is the man you’ve become, Angelo, one who would toy with the commitment to his wife while dangling false promises to another woman, then I don’t want that. I don’t want you.”
Vera raced away from the counter, through the grand corridor, past the clock, and down the steps. She did not stop running until she’d made it all the way to Madison Square Park and sat on that damnable fountain edge wiping her tears with the elegant cloth napkin she’d forgotten to leave behind.
And there were tears. So many that they felt like icicles on her cheeks against the frigid weather that surrounded her. What she’d just said to Angelo was horrible.
I don’t want you.
What a thing to say to a man as he was preparing to serve the country and—God forbid—fight overseas if it came to that. What if Angelo never returned and all he remembered of her were those words—those words of reproach and rejection? How could she forgive herself if something happened to him?
And of course the words weren’t true. She did want him. She wanted him more than she wanted life.
She unfolded its creases and reread the devastating first line.
Dear Vera,
I know about you and Angelo.
Vera held it to her heart and let out a deep sigh before continuing on. What admonishment would these pages contain?
I should have seen it from the beginning. He talked about you incessantly when I first knew him. “Kid did this.” And “Kid said that.”
I suppose I believed the notion that you were like a sister to him. He said as much, and I think he believed his own fiction as well. But then I saw you that first day on the steps of Penn Station. All wide-eyed and innocent and rosy. The kind of girl who men want to marry.
Vera paused. She could not imagine that Pearl saw her as any kind of competitor for Angelo’s affections. Majestic, elegant, commanding Pearl. What man wouldn’t want her at his side?
But her words rang a little true. It was warm to be in the presence of the sun—until you got too close and got burned. Safer to be near a steady candle flame instead. Angelo had alluded as much. Vera was his little candle flame.
I brushed that aside, perhaps out of loneliness. I know you probably don’t believe that I could be lonely, knowing as many people as I do. But believe me, it is quite a solitary life to be around people when you are so different. When I am in my family’s circles, I cannot tolerate their shallow concerns about a maid who failed to wash a red-wine stain out of a white linen tablecloth. Inside, I want to shout, “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so careless with your drink, you dolt!” But I cannot say such things, of course.
Instead, I engulfed my feelings about the injustices of the classes by doing something about it. But even then, I was an outsider. Never fully trusted because of the family I came from.
I didn’t belong anywhere.
Until I met Owen. Owen was the first person I met who made me feel valued for myself and who cared to listen to my opinions. When he died so unexpectedly, it was as if I’d been thrown off a cliff. For all my beliefs about the capabilities of women, it does not negate the very real desire to have a man as a partner.
Then I met Angelo, and I don’t
have to tell you how dear he is. He filled that void of family with his kindness and charm and eagerness to help those in need. When I felt as if I’d lost my harbor, Angelo gave me a place to land and feel welcome again.
Vera thought that was so much like Angelo. That knight-in-shining-armor type. She’d experienced it herself as a child.
And so I realize my folly in all this. My role. I blindly took what made me feel safe in the moment, and in that whirlwind, I married him. And he treated my son as if he were his own.
But as I know Angelo has told you—you see, even as friends, he and I don’t have any secrets—that is not the foundation for a marriage. We filled a void in each other, but we didn’t really fill each other. Does that make sense? We both knew it very early on.
After you left Washington, DC, so abruptly, he told me what had happened. I encouraged him to seek you out, but as I’ve told you, you’d left your apartment with no forwarding address. Some efforts on our part resulted in no results. It was as if you didn’t want to be found.
Angelo and I continued to live together. It was rather convenient—we each contributed to the household bills. William adored him and still does. That all sounds kind of sad now that I write it. We were both so busy that three years passed before we knew it. Angelo is trying to get a place for his newsstand inside Penn Station. And, as you know, I’ve been devoted to the causes for women. It wasn’t until William began nearing school age that I realized just how much time had gone by!
Pearl was calling Angelo . . . a friend?
I wanted to confide this in you the moment I saw you again at Penn Station. But I didn’t know your current situation—had you married? Would this be news that would disrupt a new life you’d built?
But it took only the mention of his name to see the flicker in your eyes that surely reflected the quick beat of your heart. So I am happy to write this letter.
You are a true friend, Vera. I may have made foolish decisions, but I am not a foolish woman. I see that you love him as well, and I know that it was not a small sacrifice you made to leave the man who had been yours far before he was mine for the sake of our friendship and my marriage. You are a harbor to me as well.
Vera put her hand to her mouth, holding back a sob that became a sudden knot in her chest. Pearl knew all that and could still say such things? She missed her friend right now almost as much as she missed Angelo.
But as fate would have it, we found each other again, and I believe it was predestined. How lovely to have it all work the way it’s supposed to. I’m helping you with your father. You’re helping me with Will.
And I’m asking now for you to be there for Angelo.
To be there for Angelo? Just as Vera had left him after saying the most horrible things.
You see, Vera, we initiated the proceedings for a divorce a few months ago. Not an easy thing to do in a world in which it’s so uncommon, and apparently it takes much longer than we’d anticipated. But this is entirely mutual and full of friendly affection. If you will make room for me in your lives, I hope that you will still let me be a friend to both of you, as I would gladly lose my right arm before losing either my Angelo or my Vera. I won’t think it odd if you won’t, though. In fact, it will give my heart great happiness to know that my two dearest friends have acknowledged in each other what I have begun to see.
If all goes according to plan, by the time you read this, Angelo will have proposed to you over lunch.
Vera gasped.
Proposed?
I even helped him select a little gold band that I think you’ll like. It was done in haste, I’m sorry to say. Angelo only came home yesterday from his training, and it gave me very little time to bring him up-to-date on all that had occurred this week. Finding you again. Making certain that this is what he wanted, too.
I hope you said yes. I hope with all my heart that you said yes and that I will receive a postcard from you telling me that you have accepted and that someday when the mountains of paperwork and his deployment and my campaign are all over, we might celebrate together what always should have been.
So, dear Vera, my sister, go to your Angelo and give him all the love that I couldn’t and that you both so richly deserve.
I remain your friend forever,
Pearl Pilkington
Vera found it difficult to breathe. There were too many things to think about in there, and she knew that she would have to read the letter a hundred times over before she could fully understand it.
But she checked her watch. Angelo’s train left in ten minutes. She’d ruined everything. He planned to propose to her—propose!—and she’d called him an adulterer and said that she didn’t want him.
It might be weeks before she could get a letter to him, and she couldn’t let him go with this misunderstanding between them.
It was a fifteen-minute walk to the train station. But if she ran, she might make it in time.
Chapter Fifteen
Patches of ice blended seamlessly with the colors of the sidewalk. Vera slipped three times running up Broadway, brushing off the well-meaning efforts of strangers to help her up. Each second that she would have spent on a platitude was one second that might cost her getting to Angelo before his train pulled away. She’d been polite all her life. Today was not the day to waste time.
She resolved to be a bit more forgiving of those who demonstrated the kind of rudeness she knew she was exhibiting now. Maybe people had things worrying them that she didn’t know of. Who was she to judge them by mere actions?
Thirtieth. Thirty-First. Thirty-Second. Vera was breathless and disheveled by the time she finally reached the entrance on Thirty-Third, the exact opposite end of the station from where she needed to be. She pushed past a woman with an impossible collection of luggage and sped past vendors who were offering flowers! Perfume! Newspapers!
The only newspaper salesman she wanted to see was Angelo.
She raced past the clock, refusing to believe the hand that taunted her lateness.
Suddenly she turned around in bewilderment. She didn’t even know where his train might be leaving from. In her haste just to get to the station, she’d gone past the departure board. She wasn’t going to take her chances trying each of the countless platforms, so she backtracked to the center of the station and read off the names.
Baltimore 1:45 Platform 14 On Time
Chicago 2:15 Platform 7 On Time
Dover 1:53 Platform 22 On Time
Harrisburg 2:05 Platform 1 On Time
Newark 1:58 Platform 9 On Time
Norfolk 1:39 Platform 6 Delayed
She couldn’t believe it. Norfolk—delayed!
What stars must have aligned to give her this miracle?
She ran again across the concourse to the lower platform where six was located. The train must have just come in from somewhere else, because she encountered an avalanche of people bounding upward. It was like pushing against a mountain to make any headway. She looked above the heads of the travelers, hoping to see some sign of Angelo still on the platform, but it was impossible to spot him among all the many identically dressed sailors. And shouting for him over the cacophony of bustle would be fruitless.
She continued to push inch by inch, always looking, until the throng thinned just enough that she could make her way down faster and hope that her words might be heard. She panicked as she saw the sea of uniformed sailors begin to board.
“Angelo!” she shouted. But no one looked her way or paid her any mind.
“Angelo!” She tried again three more times.
As she reached the bottom stair, one head turned her way. His hand was holding on to the bar that led to the first step on the train car. He stopped, and even beneath his cap she saw his eyes, his squared jaw, the shadow on those Italian cheeks. In that first glance, she was elated to have found him.
But then she panicked. She’d treated him awfully just an hour ago. What if he was angry with her? She wasn’t sure she could bear it.
It overwhelmed her, waiting for him to say something.
“You came back,” he whispered. His eyes looked red. She couldn’t believe she’d hurt him so much.
“Angelo, my love. I am so sorry. So deeply sorry. I was wrong. Pearl told me everything.”
He tapped a finger on her nose. “Of course she did. She told me that she wanted to make sure you knew that we had her blessing. But you ran out before I could tell you about it.”
He held her close and kissed the top of her head.
It was the most wonderful thing that she had ever felt in her life.
She pulled back and looked at him.
“I messed everything up, Angelo. The lunch. Your beautiful lunch. I said such horrible things and I ran out on you. And my first chance to have steak! I ruined it all.”
He laughed. “You haven’t ruined anything. You’re here. And a delay from the train coming in from Washington gave you just enough time to come back.”
“I can’t believe you’re leaving. Just as we’ve found each other again.”
The train whistle blew. Angelo’s eyes grew serious. “Vera. I have to go. This is not how I would have hoped to do this for my girl, but this is where time has brought us.”
He got down on one knee, and her first thought was how he might wrinkle those crisply ironed pants, but then she felt ridiculous for thinking that as she realized what he was doing.
This was it. The culmination of what she’d dreamed for most of her life. Her knees shook and she was afraid she might faint.
“My dearest Vera,” he started, “you have been my reason for getting up every day, ever since I met you right outside the walls of this very train station. We have known each other through so many things, but now I am ready to make you my own. To love and honor and protect you for the rest of your life.”
The train whistled again, and Vera looked up to see that almost all the sailors had boarded.
But Angelo only looked at her, the happiest she had ever seen him. He stood up.
The Way of Beauty Page 15
