The Unmasking

by Emilie Richards

  She knelt in front of the little girl, silently willing her to cooperate. “Abby, if nothing else, please be polite.”

  At Justin’s knock she walked to the door, opening it wide. “Come in, please.”

  “Hello, Bethany.” He stepped inside, eyes seeking the little girl. She was standing with her back to him, staring out one of the tall windows. “Hello, Abby.” There was no response.

  “Abby,” Bethany said firmly. “Come meet your father.”

  “No,” said the small voice. “I don’t want to.”

  Faced with out and out rebellion, Bethany wondered what to do. Justin solved the problem by moving to stand beside the small figure. “I’d like to see your face,” he said quietly. The little girl turned her head a few inches, giving him a clearer view of her profile. “You’re very pretty,” he said. “At least, I ‘think’ you are. But I can’t see enough to tell.”

  That would have worked with almost any other child in the world. But not with Abby. She sniffed disdainfully and turned back to gaze out the window. Justin crouched beside her. “What do you see out there?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Would you like to go to dinner now?”

  “No.”

  Bethany watched the interaction, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering convulsively. “Abby, either I can carry you out that door, or you can come quietly on your own. It will have to be up to you.”

  The little girl turned away from Justin to face her mother. “I don’t wanna go.”

  “You’re going, and that’s that.”

  Justin stood, his face impenetrable. “It’s chilly. You’ll probably both need sweaters.”

  She nodded. “I suspect it’s no chillier outside than it is in here.”

  He shrugged. “Shall we go?”

  There must have been safe topics of conversation to discuss on the long walk to the restaurant. Unfortunately all she could manage after several silent blocks—punctuated only by the complaints of the little girl marching ahead of them—was to ask Justin what he thought of his daughter.

  “I think,” he said, “that she has the idea I’m some sort of an ogre.”

  “I’m sorry. I really haven’t tried to make you into the bad guy. She’s a very sensitive little girl, and I think she’s hurt. When she has more exposure to you, she’ll learn to love you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She tried again. “Don’t you think the resemblance is uncanny?”

  There was a slight softening of his features. “She looks exactly like my sister, Marie.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister. For some reason I thought you were an only child.”

  “Marie died when she was only a little older than Abby. She was eight years younger than I was.”

  “Oh, Justin.” She tried to imagine what it was like to lose a child. Even without having the experience, she was sure it must be the worst possible kind of hell. “That must have been so terrible for your family.”

  “Marie had always had problems. Lots of colds, chronic asthma, pneumonia. Finally one particularly serious infection got the better of her. And there was nothing all the money in the world could do about it.”

  Suddenly chilled Bethany pulled her sweater tighter around her. “So that’s where Abby’s problems come from.”

  He turned to search her face. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s always had more than her share of respiratory infections, and the doctor asked me if it ran in the family. It doesn’t run in mine. Now I can tell him a little more.”

  “You mentioned pneumonia last week when we were talking,” he said, staring straight ahead again.

  “I did?”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Yes, something about how sitting by her bedside when she had pneumonia made you a real parent.”

  She shivered again. “She was in the hospital last year for five days. She’s recovered very well though. You don’t need to worry. I watch her carefully.”

  “Has she had any problems since?”

  “Abigail Justine, wait for us. Don’t you dare cross that street!” She glanced at Justin. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Has she had any recurrences of the pneumonia?”

  “No, nothing serious. Most of the time she’s the picture of health. It’s only occasionally that she has problems.”

  “What do her doctors say?”

  She envisioned an entire fantasy staff crowded twenty-four hours a day around the bedside of the little girl. Actually, there had been only one doctor, an old general practitioner, who she had used occasionally, and he had been conspicuously absent during most of the illness. Abby had improved steadily, and there had been no money for specialists who weren’t critical to her recovery. She hedged slightly. “The opinion was there was nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m tired of walking. I wanna go home.” The little girl’s voice was high and shrill, steadily climbing the ladder that led to a temper tantrum. Bethany recognized the signs. Over the weekend Abby had probably got very little sleep at Madeline’s. Her schedule was thrown off; she was trying to cope with a stranger who claimed to be her loving father, and she was exhausted. Everything added up to a child with almost no self-control. Without a word she scooped the little girl up in her arms and whispered comforting words.

  Justin lifted an eyebrow. “Do you always give in so easily?”

  Her eyes widened at his criticism. “I do when I see her point.”

  “We’re there now. Shall we?” He opened the door, ushering Bethany and the clinging child into the restaurant. They were met by a wave of music.

  “Look, Abby!” She pointed to a stuffed gorilla in a cage by the door. The smiling woman behind the desk reached down and pushed a hidden button, and the gorilla rattled the bars.

  “I wanna go home!”

  Bethany smoothed back the little girl’s hair. “It’s all right, honey. He’s not real. Justin, we’d better get her to a table.”

  An Indian tepee sat in the middle of the restaurant. A waiter dressed as Winnie the Pooh led them to the table inside it, obviously trying not to notice the unhappy expressions on the three faces. “Your Indian will be with you shortly,” she quipped.

  “All the waiters dress in costume here, Abby,” Bethany tried to explain. “It’s all pretend.” There were different themes at each table. Under normal circumstances Abby would have been enthralled, but her tolerance for new situations was completely used up. Bethany cursed her own lack of judgment, but there was nothing to be done now except make the best of a bad situation.

  A tall, bronzed Indian chief with enough war paint to challenge the entire Sioux nation stepped up to their table. “Paleface want drink?” he asked in his best grade B movie voice.

  For a minute Bethany thought Justin was going to leave. The incongruity of the entire situation was almost laughable. The restaurant would have been perfect with a happy child, but with Abby sitting between them with a face like a thundercloud, it was just too much. She heard Justin order himself a drink, and she shook her head as he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Abby, would you like milk or juice?” she whispered in the little girl’s ear.

  Abby’s only answer was to fold her arms and put her head on the table. Bethany shook her head at Justin.

  Determined to carry the conversational ball, she tried to smile brightly. “Can you imagine this crazy place anywhere else? It started out as a Playboy club, and then they transformed it into this.”

  Abby continued to hide her face, and Justin just stared at Bethany.

  “Well, at least I didn’t suggest Antoine’s,” she said hoping that envisioning this scene at one of New Orleans’s most famous restaurants would at least trigger a smile. There was no response, and she lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

  They managed to get through dinner. Wisely Bethany restrained Justin from ordering a meal for Abby. It was obvious the little girl would refuse to eat. Although he was unfailingly polite to his daughter, making repeated attempts t
o draw her into conversation, he was coldly formal toward Bethany, refusing to bite at any of her conversational hooks. Abby, for her part, was rude to them both.

  The reappearance of the Indian chief initiated a change in the evening’s atmosphere. “Me want little squaw,” the man said, arms folded across his naked chest.

  Abby raised her head. “Do you mean me?” she said with the first flash of interest she had shown.

  “You!” He pointed. “Come.”

  In the room beside theirs was a table being served by outer-space creatures with pointed heads. Dressed in outrageous costumes, the two creatures were encouraging patrons to play ring toss as they squatted on the floor as targets. The Indian chief held out his hand, and Abby, with the expression of a captive escaping a sinking ship, ran around the table and grabbed it. “Come on,” she said.

  Bethany sipped the coffee that had signaled the end of the torturous meal. “What a disaster this has been,” she said tearing her eyes from the sight of her daughter battering the coneheads with her rings.

  Justin was staring at her with a cold expression that was beginning to seem natural. “Yes, hasn’t it,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said impulsively. “I told you I just couldn’t predict how she’d act. She can be pretty awful when she’s upset.”

  “And of course you have nothing to do with her being upset.”

  Puzzled she sat quietly for a few seconds before responding. “Well, of course it’s my fault she hasn’t always known you. I’ve admitted that was a mistake.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He set down his coffee cup and reached for her wrist. Her cup clattered out of her hand.

  His fingertips sent messages of surprise to her brain. This wasn’t the touch of a man who wanted to convey anything except his fury.

  “You set this up tonight, Bethany. That child wouldn’t be so angry at me if you hadn’t filled her full of hate and distrust.”

  She pulled her wrist away in horror. “Justin, that’s not true!”

  “I’m not an idiot. You don’t want me in Abby’s life. You’ve told me so in no uncertain terms. I wouldn’t leave you alone, so you found the only way left.”

  Behind the anger was hurt. Bethany could see it straining to go unrecognized. Her heart went out to him. He had been cheated of so much and feared he was being cheated of more. But she was hurt, too, and reaching out was terribly risky. As calmly as she could, she picked up her coffee cup, watching him over the rim. “I would never do that to you,” she said simply. “Never. . . And I would never do such a terrible thing to my daughter.”

  “Your daughter,” he almost spat. “I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve told me the truth at all. Did you get pregnant on purpose? You needed love. Maybe you thought you needed a child to give it to you. I was going away, so I was the perfect candidate for fathering one. When I left there was no need to share her with anyone ever. It was very convenient. Neurotic as hell, but convenient.”

  The words lay between them, as final as death. That he could think her capable of such deceit severed all bonds they had begun to form. The hope of an amiable relationship based on their daughter’s needs was extinguished. Without a word she stood, walking through the doorway into the next room, where Abby was engrossed in her game. “It’s time to go, sweetheart.”

  The day’s events had finally sapped all resistance from Abby’s little body. Without a word, she held out her arms, and Bethany gathered her up. Thanking the Indian, Bethany made her way down the stairs and through the door without looking in Justin’s direction.

  Outside the streetlamps were bright and the sky was darkening quickly. Bethany began to carry Abby in the direction of Royal Street, which would be more traveled than most streets other than Bourbon. When darkness overtook the French Quarter it was best to be safe. A block down Royal she heard footsteps closing in, and she began to walk faster.

  “I’ll take her.” Justin’s voice sounded in her ear. “You’ll wear yourself out carrying her all the way home.”

  “I can manage,” she said tersely, walking even faster. “For all you know, I planned for the evening to end this way just so I could have the sheer joy of being this close to her.”

  “I’ll take her,” he said, planting himself directly in front of them.

  “No,” Abby cried. “I want my mommy. You’re not my daddy. Mommy said you were, but I don’t believe her.”

  “Why not, Abby?” Even the not quite hysterical child could hear the demand for an answer in his soft voice.

  “Because real daddies stay with their kids. They don’t leave them alone.”

  “Do you know why I haven’t been able to be with you?”

  “Because you didn’t know about me.” Bethany, watching Justin, and saw surprise cross his features to erase the anger.

  “And who told you that?”

  “Mommy did. She said it wasn’t your fault. But I think you’re dumb.” She quickly hid her face against her mother’s blouse, as if she was sure lightning would strike for saying something so rude to a grown-up.

  Justin put his arms around the resistant body of the little girl and pulled her from Bethany’s grasp. “I feel pretty dumb, Abby,” he said with a catch in his voice. “Sometimes grown-ups do dumb things, say dumb things, just like kids do.”

  “I want Mommy.”

  “Hush,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t want me to hold you, but your mommy is tired. Be a good girl and let me carry you home.”

  Bethany cast occasional sidelong glances at them on the walk back to her apartment. At first Abby held herself away from her father, her body unyielding. But as they covered the long blocks home, Bethany saw the little girl gradually relax, until finally her head fell against Justin’s jacket in sleep. That picture and the silent plea in his eyes gradually untied the painful knot in Bethany’s stomach.

  Abby didn’t wake up when her father carried her up the stairs and into the apartment. “Where does she sleep?” he asked softly.

  “Put her on my bed for now.’’ She went ahead of him to turn back the covers. He watched as she undressed the sleeping child, leaving her to sleep comfortably in her underwear, and pulled the covers around her.

  In the living room they stood looking at each other. “Thank you for carrying her home,” Bethany said formally.

  “Very definitely my pleasure.”

  “I’m sure you’ll want to see her again soon. Just let me know, and I’ll have her ready for you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The apology came as a surprise. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because of the concern in his voice.

  “I know,” she said finally.

  “I was way out of line. I don’t know how I could have said those things.”

  “I don’t, either,” she said, “but until now, I’ve been the world’s champ at overreacting when I’m hurt, so I should be able to accept a little from you.”

  He breached the distance between them, pulling her to rest against his chest, and for a moment, without thinking, she let her body sink against his. This was Justin, the real thing, not a product of her imagination, but the living, breathing man.

  “You give and forgive. Even when I’ve hurt you.” His words were muffled in her hair, and his hands were stroking her shoulders.

  “Don’t delude yourself,” she said. “I’m no saint.”

  His hand came up under her chin, lifting it so their eyes were locked, a meeting of bright afternoon and darkest midnight. “Neither am I.” When his lips touched hers it was with the sweetness of remembered kisses. When memory faded into something better and fuller, she parted her lips to allow him access.

  For a moment this was Justin, the man she had loved, the man who seemed to know exactly what she needed.

  And this was Justin, the man who had left her without a backward glance.

  She pushed him firmly away, although she only managed a few inches. “I think you’d better go. I don’t think either of
us is thinking clearly.”

  “I never thought thinking clearly had any part in what we were just doing,” he said with his arms around her still.

  “Perhaps with a little more thought we wouldn’t be in this situation.” This time she broke away to turn and lean her cheek against the window.

  “With a little more thought we probably wouldn’t have gone for spaghetti together the first day we met,” he said, stroking her hair. “I would have taken one look at you and realized I was going to get involved. You would have taken one look at me and known I wasn’t going to be good for you.”

  “In spite of everything, that’s not true,” she said, letting her eyes drift shut. “I wouldn’t want to forget any of it.”

  “It was an extraordinary time, and from it has come an extraordinary child. Our child.”

  Her eyes opened again, and she stared at him without speaking. Finally he broke the silence. “Can you come down to the courtyard and sit with me for a while? We can leave your apartment door open in case Abby needs you.”

  She knew she shouldn’t go, but she still let Justin take her hand.

  The courtyard was cool, with moonlight silvering the worn bricks. Light from a streetlamp filtered through the iron gate that led to Royal Street. They sat on a bench beside the silent fountain that had once been the showpiece of the gracefully designed patio.

  “I remember spending a night like this one in Florida,” Justin reminisced. “Do you remember the cove off Lake Jackson where your friends had that little cabin?”

  The cabin had been a renovated bait house that art-student friends of Bethany’s rented during the school year. That summer they had paid the rent for the time they would be away and told Bethany where to find a hidden key to check on the place.

  “Yes, we’d take your rental car and park it at the top of the road. Then we’d walk down that steep clay path to avoid getting stuck if it rained.”