“Monica, if I come back—when I come back—end of August, do you think it would be possible for me to enter the management trainee program like we talked about?” I dug my nails into my palm.
She twirled her tea bag around in her Styrofoam cup. “You know, Frannie, I’ve been meaning to mention this.”
Uh-oh.
“The district manager tells me she’s working on a transfer to southern California to be closer to her mom. Health problems and all that. Nothing’s set in stone, but I think they’re going to tap Lauren Miller of Walnut Creek to replace her.”
I felt the color drain from my face. Lauren Miller did my training on Branch Safety and Spotting Counterfeits. I remember going home that day thrilled that she wasn’t my manager. Lauren Miller’s bulging eyes and immaculate tailored clothing and wicked fingernails overawed me. By the book and zero sense of humor.
“…If they do,” Monica went on, “she may have her own ideas about the program.”
“College degrees?” I asked. I remembered noticing the woman drove up in a jaunty red Miata with a huge Go, Bears! bumper sticker.
“That would be my guess.” Monica slung her tea bag in the trash, dabbing up the scattered drops with a napkin. “So a few classes at Ohlone might be in order, to show your good faith. Honestly, Frannie—the average tenure in that job is about five years, and Lauren Miller is definitely the ambitious type. You wouldn’t have to take classes forever.”
My insides were deflating. Another door closing. Uncle Paul might have been willing to house me another year while I entered the trainee program and saved up money for an apartment, but another five years, while I dawdled along on a teller’s salary, most of which would go toward fees at the junior college—?
“Come on, don’t look like that,” Monica chided. “You never know what the future holds. You go and have a good time in Colorado. Just don’t forget about us. Whenever you come back, your old job is here, okay? Okay.”
Jonathan and Caroline came over early for my farewell barbecue. I hoped to see them one more time and possibly steal a few moments with my cousin, but it was Caroline who kidnapped me first, snatching my hand and insisting we go for a walk around the block.
“You bad, bad girl!” she teased, as we set off in the direction opposite Aunt Terri’s house. “You’re being sent into exile, you know. I would have warned you sooner, but you ignored my note and then started avoiding me, so how could I spare you your fate?”
“There was nothing to say to your note. I wish you wouldn’t talk about it.”
“If it was up to you, Frannie, no one would ever talk about anything that really mattered,” Caroline returned, “but we’re going to talk about this now. I don’t know how much we’ll see of each other in the future—”
“Has Uncle Paul said something to you?” I gasped. “About not letting me come back? What do you mean by that?”
“Relax, Frannie. Breathe.” She gave my arm a shake. “No, I’m not in your uncle’s confidence. Haven’t you noticed? I think the man doesn’t care for me, after all. And it’s gotten worse, or I’ve gotten worse, or I’ve stopped caring, or something.”
“Uncle Paul is not very demonstrative,” I said.
Caroline waved this away. “I don’t care about your uncle. I’m not here to talk about your uncle. I’m here to talk about my brother and why you’re so dead-set against him. So mean. You know this is why you’re being sent away, don’t you? Because everyone—and I mean everyone—thought you and Eric getting together was a great idea. Your uncle and Eric even swung some major deals between Eric’s company and Core-Pro—lucrative deals that your little dithering might jeopardize, since they were both cashing in favors for each other. Not that I care a bit about the money, but somebody has got to tell you what’s going on. You could at the very least have gone out with Eric until everything was under contract or until he broke up with you, whichever came first. Kidding—kidding! He’s devoted to you, as I mentioned. Even all your ridiculous hang-ups are cute to him. I’ve never seen him so patient. I think it must be that you’re so completely unlike any other girl he’s ever flirted with or any girl who ever chased him. You act like you can barely stand him, and he finds it irresistible. If I weren’t already married, I think I’d give your methods a try because Eric honestly is totally incapacitated, but maybe it only works if you can blush constantly or sit through all those god-awful church services. You’ve got the whole virgin thing going, like it never crossed your mind that anyone ever has sex and you can’t understand why anyone would want to. It’d make me hate you, Frannie, if I thought it was an act, but the crazy thing is, it’s for real. But you’ve got to give in soon. Who knows how long Eric can keep being such a good boy, and you really shouldn’t try him so far.”
I didn’t exactly stroll along beside her, letting her beat me down with such a speech. Rather, I ripped my arm away and walked faster and faster until she was practically trotting to keep up. Not that it helped any, except that she got out of breath and had to pause. “Caroline, stop,” I said, when she finally let me get a word in. We were around the corner and out of sight of the neighbors I knew. “I know you don’t mean half of what you say, but I wish you wouldn’t keep bringing this topic up when I’ve asked you to drop it. I don’t see why I have to like your brother if I don’t happen to, and it’s not my fault everyone assumed I would.”
“Of course not,” she agreed soothingly. “A girl can only like who she likes. She can’t help herself. I’d be the first to say so myself. I’m just saying it’s completely irrational not to give Eric a chance. It doesn’t make one iota of sense. Teenage girls are supposed to love older guys! Especially ones like Eric—the bad boys with nice cars who still somehow demonstrate employability and ambition. Do you want to be banished to your mother’s house? You know, don’t you, that your uncle thinks that here he’s raised you up all these years—fed you, clothed you, sheltered you, sent you to school, taken you to church—only to have you turn out as hopeless as Tom? Worse! Because, unlike Tom, you led Paul to believe you’d be a good, obedient child like my dear Jonathan, but in fact, when your uncle asks the very first and very only thing he’s ever asked of you—that you be a good girl and go out with this nice young man and try to ensure a future for yourself—you say No. And not just No, you dig your heels in. You weep, you give no reasons, you suffer his displeasure rather than make one small, teeny tiny, conciliatory gesture. Heaven knows what will happen to you. You’ll be forgotten in Colorado. Eric will move on—even he needs to see the object of his affection occasionally to feed his appetite—Eventually, if you’re allowed to, you’ll come back and get some awful job taking care of babies or old people, just so you don’t have to sit across the table from your gloomy uncle who is wishing you gone. You’ll probably marry someone you’re not wild about anyway, just to escape it all, in which case it might as well have been my brother. Educated, charming, has money, adores you. You’re a little fool. Of course”—here she broke off again, her eye fixed on some kids roller-skating—“I totally understand that adoration can get dull. A man always at your feet is a man to be stepped on. Sometimes a girl misses the thrill of the chase.” She sighed. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone. Your quiet little homey, embarrassed self. If you get tired out there of thwarting all your loved ones’ wishes, only let me know, and I’ll send Eric out to rescue you. There’s probably a time limit on that offer—he’s only human, you know—but I can guarantee you a couple months.”
Nor was my last conversation with Jonathan what I hoped. If anything, it made me feel worse than Caroline’s harangue.
The barbecue was over. The ribs had been eaten, the lemonade toasts endured. Tom and Marcy took themselves off, Tom ruffling my hair and muttering, “So long, kid,” while Marcy clutched me in an unexpectedly tight hug. Eric Grant forebore to speak to me most of the evening. He was grim and unlike himself, not even rising to Tom’s taunts or Caroline’s ribbing. When he finally rose to go (Caroline cadging a ride off him so J
onathan could stay longer), he pressed my hand and murmured, “Have a good trip, Frannie. I wish you well.”
“Thank you,” I squeaked. “I wish you well, too.”
“I don’t suppose you’d call or write.”
“Oh—I—I don’t think so.”
He gave a sad smile which made me feel guilty for a million reasons again, but thankfully in another minute he was gone. I hoped the next time I saw him—if I ever saw him again—he would be some other girl’s property and would have no meaningful looks for me beyond the eat-your-heart-out variety.
Caroline hissed one last time in my ear, “Remember—if you change your mind about my dear twin, I’ll have him on the next plane to rescue you. This offer expires in two months.”
Jonathan and I sat on the edge of the pool, our legs dangling in the now perfectly warm water. We were alone. Uncle Paul and Aunt Marie were watching television and Paola had gone home.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” he asked. “Are you more sorry than excited or excited than sorry?”
I swished the water with my foot. “I’d like to see my mother again. And meet Robbie and Jamie and my—stepfather. But overall I’m scared and don’t want to go.”
“Think of the adventure, Frannie! New surroundings, new people to love, a new chapter in your life. I only hope you don’t forget about us old Beresfords in all the excitement.”
“I would…never…” more was impossible to say.
He laughed softly. “I was kidding, of course. I know you would never. I’ve never known anyone like you, Frannie, for attachment to familiar faces and places. You seem to love us more and more, the more familiar we are to you. It was Eric Grant’s downfall, I’m afraid.”
I felt his eyes on me in the fading dusk, but when I didn’t reply, he went on. “I told Grant that the whole novelty of seeing him as a potential boyfriend would be enough to scare you off. You thought of him as Tom’s friend or Caroline’s brother and no more. To have him suddenly (in your timeframe at least) spring new feelings on you was sure to catch you off guard and repel you. Am I right?”
“He surprised me, for sure,” I said in a low voice. I little expected Jonathan to dredge up my least favorite topic, and with our time together slipping, slipping away, I resented it all the more. “But even when the surprise was over I couldn’t consider him in that light.”
“Naturally. Because you need another few years to adjust your mindset. Caroline said she thought you might only get used to the idea after the two of you were engaged!”
Wrath swelled my chest. Of course they would talk about me—the whole family did. And of course she would joke about it.
Jonathan scooped a handful of water and dribbled it on my knee to catch my attention. “Hey. You’re upset. Forgive me for teasing you. I wasn’t sure the best way to bring it up. You used to tell me everything, Frannie, but you’ve kept this to yourself. It felt strange. I didn’t like it.”
“We don’t talk that often anymore,” I managed. I would not cry. I would not.
“And I’m sorry for it. But since we used to, and I have all that past credit in the bank, I hope you’ll let me spend some of it now. I thought talking to me about it might be a relief to you. You know, don’t you, that I naturally take your side. You couldn’t be expected to welcome Eric Grant when you had no feelings to offer in return, and you shouldn’t be blamed for rejecting him if that was where things stood.”
“No, exactly!” I cried, looking him full in the face. “I couldn’t. Thank you, Jonathan, for thinking that. You seem to be the only one.”
“Dad and Caroline thought you encouraged him, but I explained that I saw no change in your behavior. You were always polite and friendly and unassuming. It wasn’t your fault if Eric took that for more than it was. He’s a charming guy. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred he wouldn’t be wrong if he jumped to that conclusion. But you were the hundredth time.”
I didn’t doubt it. The way Caroline put it, her brother was besieged with admirers, of which I was probably the hundredth. Bare minimum.
“You did nothing wrong,” said my cousin again. “And you’ve been completely open with him. He has no excuse for his perseverance, unless you count your good looks and sweetness and intelligence and character.”
The growing darkness hid my reaction to these words, but I turned away to hide my face nonetheless, wrapping my arms around my middle. What he said meant everything to me. I could live on it. I would have to. But the pleasure his words gave me was overwhelmed by the guilt that always followed.
It would be good to leave home, if only because of this.
Unwittingly, Jonathan plucked me from my morass of emotion. “Those are the reasons I’ve heard him list, anyhow,” he said, “time after time, ad nauseum, in Caroline’s opinion. But for any and all reasons, Eric Grant is hanging on. He thinks, if he waits it out you’ll warm up to him eventually.” I saw the shine of his teeth as he smiled at me in the half-light. “And Frannie—I hope that will be the case one day. He’s a good guy. Especially now. If you could hear how sincerely he ponders things—wrestles with things—in that Bible study! I hardly think anyone worthy of you, but he just might be, one day.”
I yanked my feet from the water and curled them on the concrete. “I’ll never, never, never think of him that way. Not ever!”
My vehemence made Jonathan stare, and I scooted further away from him, even if it meant sitting in the damp spot my legs left on the deck.
“Frannie, what is up? Why the dramatic language? It isn’t like you.”
“I meant—I only meant—that I don’t think—I don’t imagine I’ll ever feel differently toward him.”
“Well—I can only say that I have different hopes. It would thrill me to have more ties to the people I love best in the world.”
“We’re already tied,” I insisted. “We don’t need him.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s okay, Frannie. Come back here. I warned him he’d have an uphill battle, trying to detach your heart from all its comfortable places and force a new attachment on it. I wish he went about it differently. I can’t help but think he would have done better to consult me in the first place, since I’ve known you so long and, I think, better than anyone. Between the two of us we could have won you, Frannie, Cyrano-de-Bergerac style. Don’t you feel even a little sorry to be breaking his heart?”
“I don’t think his heart is breaking,” I retorted. “And there’s no point in thinking about it or wishing anything different. We are totally unlike. We have nothing in common. We would be miserable together.”
“How can you say that? ‘Nothing’ in common? You have mutual friends and family. His outgoing personality compliments your shyness; his adventurous nature would rub off on you and your steadiness on him. And most of all he’s become a believer. Think of that, Frannie, when you say you have nothing in common! It’s not nothing—it’s everything. What else matters, in comparison, than having the same beliefs—the same faith—motivating how you go about life, guiding your decisions, influencing your choices? How you spend time, money. How you raise a family. If you raise a family. It’s everything. It can make up for differences in temperament and history. You and Eric would be very, very fortunate, to share a ‘nothing’ like your faith.”
We were close to his own pain here, I realized, and I could not argue. Nor could I pursue the subject. I took a different tack.
“That may be something,” I conceded, “but there’s more than that. I can’t help but say—remember when we first met them—him—that summer? I didn’t like the way he treated Greg—”
“Frannie, that was years ago,” protested Jonathan. “You’re the one who said Greg should forgive Eric, and here you are unearthing it after all this time—”
“Not just how he treated Greg,” I resumed hastily, “and I don’t just mean the time with the swim trunks—I mean all along. But it was also how he—flirted—with Rachel and Julie. He…played them off against each other and�
��and made them behave in ways they—they might not have, normally.”
Jonathan gave a long sigh. “It was years ago,” he repeated. “You were fourteen at the time. Give people a little space to act like reckless teenagers and Rachel and Julie some credit for their own behavior and choices. It was a bad summer all around. We were all not thinking totally straight, and I include myself in that. Most of all.”
I didn’t answer. As if I needed reminding of the first time I discovered a chink in Jonathan’s armor.
“And,” he went on, “since we’ve always talked to each other in Bible, Frannie, may I remind you that Eric Grant is in the process of ‘putting off his old self,’ as the apostle Paul would say, and ‘putting on the new man.’ It doesn’t happen overnight, but it happens. Cut him some slack. If God is willing to forget past sins, we don’t want to be less so.”
“No.”
“So much of who we become depends on who we love. And who loves us.”
His thoughts, I knew, had gone back to Caroline. Who was Jonathan becoming—who had he already become—because he loved Caroline and she loved him?
“With the right person,” he said, “we ourselves become better people.” Giving himself a shake, he swung his legs out of the water and reached for a towel. He made to toss it to me, but I shook my head. I was already dry. “I’m not saying you have to go out with Eric, Frannie, but if you ever did, I think you would be the best thing that ever happened to him. He might—eventually—make you happy, but you”—he held out a hand to me and helped me up—“you would make him everything.”
PART III
1989
Chapter 26
I had few memories of my mother that I could recall without flinching inwardly. There was the time she saw me admiring another child’s teddy bear and I found a similar one on my pillow the next day. When I screamed with joy and held it up to her, she shrugged, but I saw the smile tugging at her mouth. And another occasion when one of her boyfriends waved his beer bottle at me and slurred, “Wassamatter with her? She doesn’t talk?” and Mom clutched me to her and said, “Shut up, Ray. You’re a moron and she’s got more things right with her than you ever will.” Her praise thrilled me as much as the unexpected hug, though in retrospect Ray did not, at that moment, have a whole lot going for him and maybe she said it more out of spite for him than pride in me.
The Beresfords Page 24