To Have and to Hold

by Fern Michaels

  “So,” Gus said lightly, when they were back in the kitchen, “what did you do yesterday amid the seniors?”

  “This place hops, I can tell you that, but I didn’t have time to hop, so I went up to Westfield.” She told him about her trip and the decision she’d made. She was okay, Gus was making things feel better.

  “Jeez. That must have been tough on you.”

  Kate nodded. “The trunks arrive tomorrow at four o’clock. We’re going to have a twilight service. The caretaker of the cemetery is doing it all. I found a minister the caretaker recommended who agreed to say a few words. I’m leaving Monday morning.”

  “So soon? I thought you were going to stay the week. You said you were staying a week.”

  It sounds like he’s accusing me of something, Kate thought. “Donald isn’t doing well. He doesn’t want to eat anymore. Ellie said Della thinks he may have had a small stroke. He’s being checked over now. I have to get home.”

  “Kate, I’m really sorry. My being so flip, that doesn’t mean anything. I get like that when I’m around a woman I like. Right away I start to think I have to be witty and charming and ... and all that stuff so she’ll like me. I don’t handle women well, or they don’t handle me well. Christ, how I hate that bar scene and what you have to do to get out socially. I was probably meant to be a hermit living off the land or some damn thing.”

  Kate slid the eggs onto the plate, placed the perfectly browned toast alongside the bacon. She set the plate in front of Gus, and one for herself across the table, and sat down. She was stunned when he said grace. Later she would think about what he’d just said.

  “You are a good cook,” Gus remarked, wolfing down his food, as Kate began to eat. “I always eat fast,” he added apologetically. “I come from a family of eleven kids, and you needed a long arm or you went hungry. I was the youngest. God, I wish my mother could live in a place like this. She has this apartment in Brooklyn that’s not too swift. She won’t come to live with any of us. We grew up on welfare, and my mother did housework on the side. My old man took off after I was born. You’d like my mother, she’s like your Della.”

  Don’t do it, Kate. Don’t get involved. Absolutely not. “I’m looking for a tenant for this house,” she said, looking up. “It’s mine, but it isn’t mine. I can’t sell it. If your mother is interested and can pay the yearly taxes and utilities, she can live here. As you can see, the furniture isn’t much, but neither are the taxes, just a few hundred a year. There seems to be a lot to do here for retirees. Do you think she’d be interested? I’d feel a lot better if I knew someone were living here and taking care of the place.”

  Gus stopped eating to stare at her. “Are you kidding me, Kate Starr? What I mean is, is that a firm offer or something you just threw out?”

  “I’m serious, if that’s what you mean. Why is it when you try to do something nice, it immediately becomes suspect?” she said defensively.

  “I’m a New Yorker,” Gus said by way of explanation. “If you fall down on the street, they walk over you or around you. No one wants to get involved. I wouldn’t do that, but I’ve seen it happen. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I guess I’m touchy these days. I don’t know what would have happened to me and the girls without Della and Donald. I do try to give back when I can.”

  “Want to hear something sad, Kate?” At her nod, he said, “I never lived in a house. We always lived in an apartment in triple-decker bunk beds, six of us to a room. The girls’ room had five, but you know what I mean. If you really mean it, I’d like to use your phone to call my mother.”

  “Go ahead.” God, what was she doing? Something good for someone. Her family would approve. A smile built on her face as she listened to Gus’s end of the conversation.

  “Ma, you there?” he bellowed. “Ma, listen, have I got a surprise for you. I found a house for you in Toms River.... No, no, Ma, it’s in New Jersey, down at the shore. It has . . .” Kate held up four fingers. “Four rooms, a front stoop, and a back one. You can put your rocker on the back porch. Grass, Ma, real honest-to-God grass and flowers that grow in the ground, not in pots.”

  “Bingo and activities,” Kate whispered.

  “Bingo, Ma. Probably every day. All kinds of things to do. I can come down for the weekend and mow the grass and rake the leaves. There’s two trees, big ones, shaped like umbrellas.... I don’t know what kind, Ma, green, and they have brown trunks. You interested? You can move in next weekend.... You can afford the rent, Ma, it’s free.” Gus’s voice changed, softened. “Sometimes, Ma, people, nice people, really do things for other people. It belongs to a friend of mine, a very good friend of mine. All you have to do is pay the light bill.... Ma, I said the place was free, I didn’t say the light bill was free.” To Kate he whispered, “I’ll pay the taxes and heating bill.” Listening, he smiled into the phone. “Yes, you can bring your own pillows and blankets and the Depression glass and your Coney Island lamp. The pictures, too. You can bring whatever you want. There’s room for your sewing machine.” He looked at Kate, who nodded. “Okay, Ma, you call everyone and start packing.”

  Kate smiled. It felt good, right.

  “It was the bingo that did it,” Gus said happily as he hung up. “How do I say thanks?”

  “You just did. I don’t think my father-in-law was happy here. He was such a private person, and so lonely. I don’t think he knew how to get involved, or else he didn’t want to make the effort. It’s so easy to sit in front of the television set.”

  “He must have loved his son very much, his pictures are everywhere.”

  “If he did, he never showed it, never said the words to Patrick.”

  “I think this might be a good time for us to dump these dishes and get moving,” Gus said lightly.

  “I think you’re right,” Kate said. “Listen, why do we have to put the dishes in the sink? Why don’t we just ... leave them?”

  “That’s a hell of a good idea. After you, madame,” he said, bowing low.

  They laughed and giggled, kibbitzed and joked, all the way to the beach. God, he was so nice, so comfortable to be with.

  “I have never seen so much ... skin in one place in my life. I think half the suits on this beach should be outlawed. I don’t care if that makes me sound like a prude or not,” Kate said when a young girl of seventeen or so strolled by in two pieces of string and little else.

  “This might surprise you, Kate, but I agree. Personally speaking, I like a full suit. To me, it’s sexier.”

  “Hmmmm,” was all Kate said.

  A bronze Adonis strolled by in a stop-sign-colored Speedo suit. “Nice buns,” Kate said, and giggled. The look on Gus’s face chased the giggle back down her throat. “They should be outlawed, too,” she said virtuously.

  “The guy probably takes steroids and never worked a day in his life. I have pretty nice buns myself.”

  “Oh, yeah,” was all Kate could think of to say.

  “I’m in my prime, you know.”

  Kate said “Oh, yeah” again. “Exactly how old are you?” she asked cautiously.

  “How old do you think I am?” Gus asked carefully.

  Kate hedged. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked. At a guess, twenty-nine, maybe thirty.” God, he was so young.

  “Thirty-one on my last birthday.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Two weeks ago,” Gus said sheepishly.

  Here it comes, he’s going to ask how old I am. She waited. When he didn’t ask, she blurted, “I’m forty-four. I’ll be forty-five next month.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Gus said. “Well, guess what? I already knew that. You told me your age when I wrote that article that never got published. Does that bother you?” he asked curiously.

  Kate avoided his gaze. “Sometimes. Forty-five is just five years from fifty. That’s the halfway mark. There are times when I feel like I haven’t really lived, just existed. I missed a lot. One of these days Ellie or Betsy is going to ma
ke me a grandmother. I don’t know how I’ll handle that. By the same token, I have experienced things other people only read about. I guess it evens out in the end.”

  “I can’t wait to reach forty,” Gus said. “I expect this instant wisdom, instant fame, instant riches, instant everything. My Pulitzer. Hey, do you like horror flicks?”

  Kate blinked. “I love them.”

  “Good, let’s rent my favorite, Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

  “I like that one, too. Della chews her fingernails when we watch it. There’s no VCR at the house.”

  “We can rent one.”

  “Are you going to get married when you reach forty?”

  “If I meet her on my fortieth birthday, I might. Being a bachelor has its good points. According to Cosmopolitan, I’m in demand. Still, I’m pretty careful. And I’m all for safe sex. What’s your feeling? This AIDS thing is scary. It’s enough to make a person want to go for monkhood. I know a girl at the paper who went to a nunnery—you know, one of those places where you give up all your rights, and wear black, and don’t even think about sex.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Kate said. “Listen, I think we should talk about something else.”

  “Why? What’d I say? Oh, you mean because I asked you your opinion. It goes with being a reporter. All I do all day long is ask questions. I guess that means you don’t get out and about much.”

  “Is it important for you to know that?”

  “Well, hell yes, it is. I like you, Kate Starr. When you like someone, you want to know everything about them. I’ve made you uncomfortable again. I’m sorry. Come on, let’s pick up and head back. We’ll pick up a couple of videos, a VCR, some popcorn, and while you’re cooking dinner I’ll hook it all up.”

  Relieved that the conversation was taking a new turn, Kate smiled agreement. “It was a wonderful day, Gus, I’m glad you came to visit.”

  On the boardwalk, while Kate was tying her sneakers, Gus said, “You’re a very pretty woman, Kate. You got just the right amount of sun today. The color becomes you. I’m not being fresh, and this is not a come-on of any kind. This is just a guess on my part, but I don’t think you’ve gotten your share of compliments over the years. Was your husband complimentary?”

  “Not really. He criticized real good, though,” Kate said briskly.

  Gus slipped his feet into his Dock-siders, and they made a last run down the boardwalk to pick up the tacky prizes they’d won earlier.

  He was nice, Kate thought. Very nice. Real. A “what you see is what you get” kind of person. She liked that. But he was only thirty-one.

  She had no idea what time it was when the last horror video ended. Earlier she’d taken off her watch to do the dishes, and there was no clock in the living room. Gus, she noticed, wasn’t wearing a watch. She wondered why and was about to ask when he said, “According to the clock on the VCR it’s one-thirty. Good thing we don’t have to get up with the chickens. Hey, let’s go for a walk in our bare feet.”

  That had to be the silliest thing she’d ever heard of. Absolutely not. “Okay,” she said airily.

  “Atta girl. I knew you were my kind of woman,” Gus said, reaching down to pull her to her feet.

  His kind of woman. What did that mean, exactly? She wanted to ask. The word foreplay rushed to mind, and she cringed. The word seduction ripped through her when Gus took her hand in his. She tripped, stubbing her big toe. She bore the pain in silence and hobbled along.

  The night was warm, soothingly soft, with only the star-spangled sky for light. The sodium vapor lamp at the end of the street wasn’t working. She should tell someone. The seniors needed light; they paid for it.

  “This is the kind of night poets write about,” Gus said lazily. “Look at that moon. It’s a perfect crescent. I like moonlight. You?”

  “Oh, yes. Moonlight is so romantic.” The moment the words were out of her mouth she winced. Her toe throbbed. Her stomach started to chum, and she wasn’t sure why. “Are you paying attention to the way we’re walking? We could get lost.” What an incredibly stupid thing to say.

  “Hardly. I used to be a Boy Scout. All you have to do is look for the North Star, and wallah—”

  “Really.”

  “No. I was teasing. I’ve been looking at the signposts, and we only turned one corner. Trust me, I’ll get you back safe and sound.”

  Kate wondered if he realized her hand was clammy. “Do you ever wish on a star?” she asked wistfully.

  “Every chance I get. In New York we have so much pollution, we don’t see too many stars. How about you?”

  “When Patrick was shot down I did. I wigged out there for a while. I started reading astrology books, wishing on stars. You name it, I did it. I probably should have prayed, but I thought God was punishing me for something. It was a very bad time for me. I wasn’t strong enough. There was no one to guide me, to help me mentally. Donald and Della did what they could, but I was stubborn as a mule. Thank God I got myself together.”

  “And now?” Gus said quietly.

  “Emotionally I’m in a good place. Legally I’m in a terrible place. Nick Mancuso, my lawyer, told me I could divorce Patrick, but I could never bring myself to do that. Holding that ... funeral service wasn’t legal. I did it for me. I need to lay Patrick to rest in my mind. I know he’s never coming back. There was no one in my life that ... What I mean is, a divorce wasn’t something I gave any serious thought to.”

  “Don’t you want to remarry, to have a life outside your work?” Gus asked quietly.

  “Maybe someday.”

  “Your girls are grown, it seems such a shame for you to be alone at this point in time. You lost the best years of your life, Kate. I don’t mean that literally. But think about it. You could have had a second family ... ah, you know what I’m trying to say.”

  “But I do have a family, I have Della and Donald. Ellie is in my life every day. Besides, I have this terrible guilt where Patrick is concerned. I also have this vision of God striking me dead if I do something like getting divorced. I really expected to feel His wrath when I buried Patrick’s things. I got a little brave when nothing happened.” She paused. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “I guess I want to know what kind of guy Captain Starr was.”

  “I never talk about Patrick,” Kate mumbled.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because when I talk about him, I feel guilty that I’m alive and he isn’t. He was the vital one, the intelligent one. He was so smart, Gus. I always felt so inferior. He contributed. I existed.”

  “What kind of thinking is that?” Gus demanded, coming to a standstill.

  “Patrick said it often enough, so I believed it. Patrick was selfish. There are givers and takers. I was the giver and Patrick was the taker. I had this narrow little existence. Patrick insulated me, or I insulated myself. I think the proudest moment in my life was when I got my degree. Do you want to hear a secret?”

  “Hell yes,” Gus said, his eyes round with interest.

  “The day I graduated, I kept my cap and gown an extra day. That night, around four in the morning—actually, it was morning—I drove back to the college and out to the commencement field and ... and I put on the cap and gown and walked the whole length of the field. Then I sat in the chair I sat in during the exercise and ... went through the business of accepting my diploma all over again, walked back to my chair, sat down, and when it was over in my mind, I threw up my hat and screamed at the top of my lungs, ‘Now, Patrick, who’s the dumb bunny?’ Then I wailed like a banshee. I guess it was a stupid thing to do. God, why did I tell you that?”

  “Because you needed to say it aloud. You trust me and feel comfortable with me. We’re friends. If you’re starting to regret telling me, how about I tell you one of my innermost secrets so we’ll be even. Let’s sit here on the curb. Want a cigarette?”

  Kate was certain she was going to hear something startling, something revealing, something that would endear her even more t
o this strange young man. She hugged her knees and waited.

  Gus blew a perfect smoke ring. “Remember I told you my old man skipped out on us? Well, I’d been working at the paper for about a year when I decided I was going to find the bastard. My mother never once said a bad word about him. Each of us kids had our own secret story about him, but the bottom line was he walked out on us. With the help of a friend, I used the Times resources to track him down. It took two years, but I found the son of a bitch. He changed his name, has a new family. He lives in ... on an estate. You should see the house. It must have forty rooms. He’s got a butler, maids, governesses for the kids. A pool in the back, tennis courts, belongs to the country club. The bastard has it all. His wife is half his age, wears diamonds to play tennis, rubs Evian water on her body when she sits in the sun. He’s got a six-car garage and it isn’t empty. Two Rollses, a Benz, a Jag, a Porsche, and a Lamborghini. He’s got a yacht he keeps down here at the shore. Do you want to know the name of it? Well, the goddamn name of it is the Matilda. Matilda is my mother’s name. He’s a building contractor with underworld ties. It’s all in the investigator’s report.”

  Kate squeezed his hand and inched closer to him. He was staring across the dark street, barely aware of her. “How awful,” she whispered.

  “Thousands of dollars were billed to the paper. I felt really bad about that and was going to ‘fess up and make arrangements to pay it back somehow. Instead I hit on a better idea. I drove up to Connecticut, to this palatial estate, one evening. The investigative report said Mr. Ronald Wedster—that’s his new name—always spent Thursday evenings at home. It took a couple of months to screw up my courage to go there, but I did it. Bold as you please, I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. I wore a suit and a tie. Do you believe that? Anyway, I handed my business card to his snooty butler and was told to sit on this little spindly bench and wait. I waited for thirty goddamn minutes. It took him that long to get over the shock that I was there. When he finally came out to see me, I wanted to kill him. He had the coldest damn eyes I’d ever seen. The funny thing was, he was dressed in a suit and tie, too. I never figured that out. He said, ‘What do you want?’ ”