No matter what happened next, everything would be different from now on, even what she called him. “Hi, Marvin. Are you alone?”
“Yes. My mother’s playing cards.”
“I guessed she might be.”
“I’ve been asking about you, but your grandparents won’t let anyone see you. Are you feeling better?”
“No.” Betty held out her hand and looked into his eyes. They were light brown rimmed in amber.
Marvin pressed his palm against Betty’s and wove his fingers through hers. “Tell me what happened.”
The grasp did not resemble Abe’s but was strong just the same. Betty held on tight and stepped inside the cabin she’d cleaned beside Zaide, just a few months earlier. She sat on the edge of the settee, hands on her knees to keep them from knocking.
Marvin didn’t wait for her to speak. “Fall semester must be starting soon.”
“Don’t play along with the charade, please. You’ve always been honest with me.”
“I wasn’t sure you liked that about me.”
“I think it’s what I like best.”
“You’re not going to Barnard, I take it.”
“You know I’m not. There must be gossip.”
“I don’t listen to gossip, not when it comes to you. If you tell me you’re going to Barnard, well then, you’re going to Barnard.”
“I wish I were. They’re sending me to a home.”
“What kind of home?”
“Are you going to make me say it?”
Marvin moved next to her. “Nah,” he said. He draped his arm around her. It was the closest he’d gotten to her since the night of the bonfire. Some girls might think he was trying to take advantage, knowing that she wasn’t innocent, but Betty felt compassion, not a come-on. She scooted closer, and Marvin held on to her a little tighter. She didn’t ask him to stop.
“Please don’t think less of me,” she said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Barsky who’s the louse. Do you want me to take him out? I know someone . . .”
Betty gasped. “No!”
“Good,” Marvin said. “I was half-kidding. Anyway, I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”
“That’s what I was hoping.”
Abe wasn’t coming back. Whatever happened to him, wherever he was, Betty didn’t figure into his plan.
It was time for a new plan, one where there was no train, no horrid home for wayward mothers, no Tillie.
“I made a list,” Betty said. She handed Marvin the paper. “Read it out loud.”
Marvin swallowed. “‘Why I should marry Betty Stern.’” He lowered the paper, his hands trembling. “What does this mean?”
Betty looked at Marvin and counted to three inside her head. “It means I want to marry you. If you’ll raise this baby as your own. I’ll be a good wife; you know I will. I need you, Marvin. They’re going to take this baby away from me. You can stop that from happening. I’ll never mention Abe, I promise, or anything about this summer. We can pretend we were planning this all along, just making sure by seeing other people. I know your father wants you married. We both win.”
“You don’t love me,” Marvin said.
Betty couldn’t lie. “I will learn to love you.”
Marvin kissed Betty with an enthusiasm she then imagined had been building all summer. She placed her arms around his neck and forced herself to kiss him back.
Nannie pulled Betty out of the cardroom, where she and Marvin were talking to his mother. “You cannot marry Marv Peck.” Nannie scowled.
“I can’t please you, it seems. Well, I’m eighteen, and he’s a nice Jewish boy. I can do what I want.” Betty lowered her voice to a hush. “And he is going to raise this baby as his own. Problem solved.”
Nannie was silent. Betty had stunned her speechless.
“Your parents are going to be very disappointed,” she said at last.
“That will make three of us then.”
Coming to this agreement with Marvin had emboldened Betty. She was going to be a married woman, a mother. She’d have a family of her own whom she would never betray.
“I never thought you could be taken advantage of so easily,” Nannie said. “First Abe, and well—you know.” Nannie waved her index finger in circles. “Now Marv and marriage!”
“No one has taken advantage of me, Nannie.” Her grandmother’s doubtful stare dared Betty to continue. “It was one hundred percent my idea to get married, not Marvin’s.”
“Don’t be naive, Betty. He’s already in love with you.” Nannie’s sharpness surprised her. “It’s what he’s wanted all along. Otherwise he’d never go along with this.”
Betty supposed she had already known. “I thought you would be happy.”
“I would have been happy if you were a nice girl going off to college and then fell in love with a nice Jewish boy.”
Now Nannie cared about love? Betty wasn’t having it. “Don’t worry about us, Nannie. You don’t have to do a thing. We’ll elope and then go to Skokie.”
College and a New York City career as a fashion editor seemed like they had been part of a dream, and now Betty had woken up.
“You’ll do no such thing.” Nannie started back to the cardroom. “I suppose I’ll get used to the idea. We wanted so much more for you, Betty.”
Where was the grandmother that had defended Betty’s rights and bolstered her confidence? She missed that Nannie. Maybe more than she missed Abe.
“Nannie, for the record, Abe didn’t take advantage of me either.”
Chapter 26
BOOP
Filled rooms filled Boop. When Natalie and Piper moved into their bedrooms upstairs, and a bed and dresser transformed the downstairs TV room into recovery central for Georgia, the house hummed with conversation, footsteps, laughter. It sounded like a home.
While Boop’s nuclear families had always numbered three, in the off-season often her grandparents’ cousins and friends visited for weekends and holidays. During the summer, her house may have been emptier, but her life had been jam-packed—like now.
Boop thought of Hannah. No news meant that she and Clark were talking—that they were communicating.
Things were falling into place.
Now Boop just had to get through the pageant.
The next day, Natalie rehearsed her welcome speech and reviewed the schedule. Georgia planned her day with Charlotte and Poppy (the Lighthouse girls, Boop called them) so they could sit together in the auditorium. Maureen was still a patient; they’d promised to show her pictures.
The last time the house was abuzz with this much Miss South Haven chatter, Boop boasted a twenty-four-inch waist and walked from room to room with a book on her head. The sights and sounds set Boop’s heart alight, especially Piper, who was pleasant and polite and not just for a teenager. Boop knew she was happy to stay in South Haven, and to have her own room. Boop had given her a key, though she never locked the door. She hoped the gesture conveyed that this was Piper’s home now.
She and Georgia set the table for a Delightful Buddha dinner.
Boop leaned against the kitchen counter. She was blessed. When was the last time the house had thumped with the heartbeat present during her childhood? She closed her eyes and leaned back, as if doing so would allow her to record not only the voices, but the humanity, and to safeguard it all for later.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Natalie asked as she poured water into tumblers.
Boop opened her eyes. “That depends,” she said. “I don’t have to say anything, right?”
“No, but I’d like to introduce you as Miss South Haven 1951. And I thought you might want to wear your sash so we could get a good picture.”
“You can introduce me, but I’m not sure about the sash. It’s not really my style anymore. My pageant days are far behind me.”
“Not anymore,” Piper said.
Out of the mouths of teens.
Later, Boop stepped onto the porch to watch the sunse
t and found Piper sitting alone, as teens were apt to do. Boop didn’t ask where Natalie was, lest Piper think her presence wasn’t enough. She didn’t ask if anything was wrong, or what was “up.” Boop just smiled and Piper smiled back.
They each sat in a chair without talking. Words weren’t necessary to keep someone company. That was a good thing, since words were clattering around in Boop’s brain. She had won a beauty pageant. What would a present-day audience think of that? There were no photos to show how she looked that day—would they believe it?
“Mrs. Peck,” Piper said. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I’d love it if you called me Boop; everyone does.”
Piper shrugged.
“Whenever you’re comfortable, you just switch to Boop, okay? And if you’re not, that’s fine. I’m sorry, me with my instructions. What were you going to ask?”
“Can I see your Miss South Haven sash? I’m really into vintage.”
Boop smiled at the trendy term for old. She hadn’t unwrapped the sash. The fabric had her lost dreams woven right into it. What could happen if she looked at it or even tried it on?
“Come upstairs.”
Boop handed Piper the sash, still wrapped in tissue. With the abandon of a child with a birthday gift, Piper opened the paper and lifted the end of the sash. It cascaded toward the floor.
Hannah had been right: it looked like new—iridescent pink with soft black lettering and white satin trim.
“Try it on,” Piper said.
Piper needn’t bear witness to Boop’s baggage. All the girl knew was that a long time ago, and not so far away, Boop had won a beauty pageant. This beauty pageant. She lowered her head and Piper placed the sash over it, resting the fabric on her right shoulder and over her chest, still as pliable as it was all those years ago, falling at and hugging her left hip.
Piper stepped back. “That must bring back a lot of good memories.”
Boop shoved aside that day’s aftermath. “I guess it should,” she said. “Do you know they read our measurements aloud?”
“No, they didn’t,” Piper said.
“They did. It was a beauty contest—a tradition in town.”
“Then why did they stop having it?”
“Because I ruined it.”
“How could one girl ruin a beauty pageant for an entire town?”
Boop had never considered the power Nannie and Zaide had wielded over a South Haven institution. They hadn’t just taken the pageant from her, but from everyone.
“My grandparents didn’t want a reminder of how I’d embarrassed them. I kind of made a mess of things that day. I ran out and got sick.”
“No offense,” Piper said. “Sounds kind of selfish of them. I bet it was worse for you than for them, right?”
Boop smiled at Piper’s kind and easy insight. “Has anyone told you you’re very wise?”
“I keep trying to tell my mom that.”
Boop guffawed as she smoothed the sash and the embroidered letters tickled beneath her fingers. She had never seen herself as Miss South Haven. Not in a mirror, nor in a photograph, until the one Natalie had shown her. She walked to the corner of her room and looked into the cheval mirror.
An old lady with a beauty queen’s sash. That’s what Boop saw. Then she startled at a glimpse of Betty behind her, toffee-colored curls, red lips, bright eyes, and a smile revealing hopes and dreams unmarred by disappointment, heartache, or grief. Boop swirled around to get a closer look—but Betty was gone.
Though maybe she didn’t have to be.
Chapter 27
BOOP
Boop stared into the audience. What had she been thinking? How could she have allowed Natalie to talk her into this? The auditorium was filled with pageant parents who wanted to see their daughters win a trophy, a tiara, and a check. Who the heck was she to be sitting on the stage, let alone thinking she should be wearing her ancient, short-lived title across her chest? Who cared that she had been Miss South Haven?
Then she saw them. Natalie, Piper, Georgia, Charlotte, Poppy, Hannah—and Clark. Hannah and Clark. Boop didn’t need to know how or what, though she reasoned Hannah would tell her. Even without details, relief flooded through her. Hannah would get her chance.
Piper had helped Boop choose her robin’s-egg-colored suit with the tulip sleeves she’d last worn for High Holidays three years ago. Natalie and Georgia had had coffee and warm blueberry muffins waiting on the kitchen table when she’d walked downstairs at seven o’clock this morning. Sitting on this stage, reclaiming a piece of herself, was the kind of thing Betty would have done—if she could have.
Natalie stepped to the microphone. Boop closed and opened her eyes, an attempt to remain present. She didn’t want to remember Mrs. Bookbinder tapping on the microphone, but the sound resonated in her ears.
Boop focused on Natalie, and the past faded—dear Natalie, who’d followed her dream to own a nail salon and her heart to raise her daughter in a place they both loved. Boop believed it was a privilege to help her and Piper have a home and fewer worries, like she believed it had been her duty to tell Hannah her story.
“I’d like to introduce Boop Peck,” Natalie said after welcoming everyone to the pageant. “She will be crowning our new Miss South Haven because she was the last Miss South Haven in 1951.”
Applause rumbled through the auditorium as Boop leaned into her cane and rose. Some people slow-clapped, some fast-clapped. Her friends and family stood, followed by everyone in the room.
Boop clasped her hands and bowed her head. Her throat tightened in a way it hadn’t since Marvin’s funeral. She swallowed the viscous pride along with an equal mass of sadness as she allowed her past to rest in peace.
There were no flashbulbs, just smartphones held in the air, lenses pointed in her direction. Boop stared straight ahead. This time she didn’t run.
“It’s time,” Natalie whispered.
Wasn’t it over?
“The pageant, it’s time.” Natalie led Boop back to her chair.
Time trickled forward as twenty teenage girls marched across the stage. They were both more mature and more naive than Boop had been at the same age. They turned and twirled, answered questions about their goals and education, and noted their connections to South Haven as they posed in front of the judges, wearing modest summer dresses.
After computer calculations, Boop was handed a card with the winner’s name.
“Miss South Haven 2017 is . . .” Boop cleared her throat and double-checked the card. “Ms. Jennifer Morgan.”
As clapping thundered, the petite, green-eyed, blond, Michigan State trumpet-playing agri-business major gasped, covered her face with her hands, and then lowered them to reveal a wide smile. Boop outstretched her hand and Jennifer stepped next to her.
Boop placed the sash over Jennifer’s head and laid it on one shoulder. It was time someone else wore this title. “A little advice from an old lady?” Boop asked.
“Of course.”
“Save all this. Even when you don’t think it’s important anymore.” Boop tugged lightly on the sash and glanced at the tiara. “A long time from now, you might be very glad you have them.”
Jennifer nodded as she turned toward the crowd. Then she looked back at Boop. “I will! I promise! This is the best day of my life.”
Boop smiled but hoped that wouldn’t end up being true. God willing, Jennifer’s best was yet to come.
Was it possible that the best—or something close to it—was yet to come for Boop as well?
Hannah walked up onto the stage, hugged Boop, and helped her down the steps. “You did great.”
“Thank you for coming,” Boop said. “And I’m glad you brought Clark. Does this mean what I think it means?”
“It means we’re together,” Hannah said. “The rest is to be determined.”
“Sometimes it takes a long time to get things right,” Boop said.
Hannah looped her arm through Boop’s. “I was thinking the same
thing.”
Boop and Hannah sat at the back of the auditorium, watching Piper and Natalie collect discarded programs and carry recycling bins outside. Clark and Georgia had driven the Lighthouse girls home.
“I don’t know how to say this,” Hannah said.
Boop’s thoughts flitted from tragedy to tragedy. She knew Hannah wouldn’t keep a secret if her dad or sister were sick, or in trouble. She’d just said she and Clark were together, although tenuously. Georgia was healing. Was this about Doris?
There was no way Georgia would have kept something from Boop about their friend. Not now.
That left Abe.
She’d ignored that she’d asked Hannah to look for news about Abe. Boop chose to believe Hannah was looking and hadn’t found anything. But that was presumptuous—with a heaping helping of a rosy outlook on the side. It was something Betty would have done.
Boop’s heart hammered against her chest. That couldn’t be a good thing. “You found Abe.”
Hannah nodded.
“And he’s dead.”
“No!” Hannah shouted, her voice echoing through the room. “He’s nearby.”
“Nearby where?” Boop’s voice faltered.
“He’s spent the past fifty years or so in South Bend. I found his granddaughter. Her name is Becca and she lives near him and sees him all the time. I told her you were an old friend who was looking for him.”
Boop’s heart fluttered in a way it hadn’t in ages. It was not a medical episode, but affection and warmth, tinged with nervousness. She’d felt it the first time Abe had looked at her from across the lawn. “Did she tell him?”
“Yes.”
“Does he remember me?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“We’re in our eighties, yes, I have to ask.”
“Of course he remembers you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She hadn’t expected that. Not after so long. “How is he?” Boop asked.
Hannah kissed her cheek, stood, gazed behind Boop, and nodded. “You can see for yourself.” She walked away, and Boop shivered, despite the midsummer temperatures.
A sob collected in her throat. She couldn’t turn around. This was what Betty had longed for, what Boop had packed away. Mourning Marvin had been sad and arduous. Boop was too old to turn and face more heartache.
The Last Bathing Beauty Page 26