Blood Secrets

by Jones, Craig

  His voice cracked. “She’s the worst! And now she’s here, she just walks right in!”

  “And whose fault is that? I imagine she feels pretty insulted. Are you afraid she’ll make a scene?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  “We can’t just leave her sitting back there. Now come on.”

  By this time, everybody was staring at the couple. I took Frank’s hand and started down the aisle toward them. The man’s face was expressionless, but the woman was smiling, first at Frank, then at me. Although she seemed a good deal older than Frank, there was no mistaking that she was his sister. Her features were similar to his, but stronger, her eyes larger, her mouth slightly fuller. Like Frank, she was quite tall, but well built instead of gangly, and her squared shoulders contributed to her impeccably confident posture. A solitary streak of gray hair among the dark brown lent a dramatic touch to her striking appearance.

  The man stood up, still expressionless, and offered his hand to Frank. Frank only glowered at him.

  “Hello, I’m Vivian Snell, Frank’s sister. This is my husband, Leo.”

  Leo turned his hand to me and I shook it. Then Vivian offered hers. There was a momentary silence. Finally, I spoke. “I really don’t know what to say.”

  “And neither do I.” Vivian smiled. “Maybe Frank has something to say.”

  If Frank’s eyes had been bullets, Vivian would have been dead on the spot. “I have nothing to say to you. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

  Her smile disappeared but she remained unruffled. “Frank,” she said softly, “if you choose to walk out on your family, that’s your business. But I think we all have the right to know who you’re going to marry.”

  “You have no right. How did you find me?”

  “There are other people in Ridgeway who go to the university. The word got back to us.” She turned to me. “You’re very pretty. Very pretty. Have you known Frank long?”

  “A little more than a year.”

  “Oh, then it wasn’t a whirlwind courtship?”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “I’m glad. The two of you had plenty of time to get to know each other. Are those your parents down there?”

  “Yes. Come meet them. And since you’re here, why don’t you have dinner with us? The whole wedding party’s going out.”

  “We’d like that very much. If Frank can put up with it.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said, even though I saw the sick look on Frank’s face.

  The introductions were made. When we left the church, Frank saw to it that no one rode in the car with us on the way to the restaurant.

  “Why! Why did you have to do that?” His voice was quivering with rage and his eyes were tearing. I was frightened.

  “Can’t you bury the hatchet for one evening?” I said timidly.

  “Bury the hatchet? You think it’s that simple? This isn’t like one of those arguments you have with your father, where you make up the next day and everything’s forgotten. You don’t seem to understand that I hate her. I’ve always hated her; I’ll never stop hating her; I don’t want her around me! Is that clear?”

  “How can you hate her so much? You never even mentioned her to me.”

  He swallowed hard and tightened his lips. We drove on for a few more blocks before he spoke again. “Irene, I hate her as much as I love you. Maybe you can’t understand that, but please try to accept it. All my life I’ve watched her butt into other people’s lives and twist them to her advantage. She started with my—my mother, and then the rest of us. Doris and Marian ran away because of her and so did I.”

  “But what did she do?”

  “It’s not what she did; it’s what she is. She controls everything around her. Just watch Leo for two minutes.”

  “Does she have any children?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe that’s the reason she wants to hang on to the rest of you. Frank, it’s just for tonight. She wants a share of her baby brother’s happiness, that’s all. How old is she, anyway?”

  “Forty-two.”

  “That’s sixteen years’ difference. It’s only natural she wants to mother you a bit—”

  “After tonight, that’s it. She stays away permanently.”

  “Whatever you say. Now how about a kiss?” I nestled up to him.

  “Please, Irene, I’m trying to drive.”

  We were the last ones to arrive at the restaurant. The waiters had pushed three tables together to make one long one; at the head of it were two empty chairs waiting for us. I sat directly at the head, with Frank on my right, Vivian on my left. Vivian was on her second martini. Leo was nursing a club soda.

  “It was nice of you to ask us,” said Vivian. “We hadn’t expected it.”

  Frank glared at her, then ordered a double Scotch. Although there were conversations all along the table, I had a feeling everyone was keeping an ear turned to Frank, Vivian and me.

  “You have a nice family,” said Vivian. “There’s just you and the two boys?”

  “Yes, Neil and Barry.”

  “What do your father and mother do?”

  “My father teaches English at the high school. My mother’s a dressmaker. She had our front porch glassed in and uses it as her shop.”

  “You look as if you all get along very well.”

  “We do. I’m quite proud of them.”

  “Yes, I can tell.” She twirled the olive in her martini glass. “And I’m proud of Frank. We all are.”

  “I am too,” I said.

  “Frank’s proud of himself too,” she said teasingly. “He’d like to think we don’t have much in common. But we do have one thing. Ambition. Leo and I started out with one lumberyard. Now we have three.”

  “And you have no children?”

  “We couldn’t have them. But I have my nieces and nephews. I’m satisfied with that. We’re a very close family.”

  “You are?”

  She picked up the surprise in my voice. “All except Frank, of course. He’s always been the loner. He’s more . . . private than the rest of us. It’s hard to tell what’s going on in that head of his. Even as a kid he was secretive.”

  Yes, I wanted to say, he is secretive. That wild anger had left Frank’s face, replaced now by a look of contempt.

  “Anyway,” continued Vivian, “now that he’s proven himself and done it all on his own, maybe he won’t have to be so independent. Maybe he’ll let his family do a few things for him.”

  Frank laid his napkin on the table, excused himself and went to the men’s room. Immediately, Vivian opened her purse, pulled something from it and put it in my hand under the table.

  “Don’t let anybody see it,” she said, “and don’t say a word about it to Frank.”

  I drew my hand into my lap and looked down. It was a check.

  “Vivian!” I whispered. “This is for a thousand dollars!”

  “It’s made out to you so Frank doesn’t have to know anything about it. You spend it the way you see fit.”

  “Oh, Vivian, I can’t. He didn’t even invite you to the wedding and now you’re giving us this—”

  “In our family we look out for our own. Frank’s a strange young man. I know; I watched him grow up. Maybe that’s part of his charm. If he chooses to cut us off, there’s nothing we can do about that. But I want you to know we’re always there in case you need us.”

  “Why does he feel the way he does? I don’t understand it.”

  “Don’t try,” she said. “I gave up a long time ago. We’re a large family and every one of us is different. We were very poor and we all had our share of hurt, in and out of the house. I think Frank indulges himself. I think part of him enjoys hanging on to the hurt. He never forgets, and he doe
sn’t forgive easily. But maybe now that he’s found you . . .” She leaned back in her chair, looked me over and smiled. “You really are a beauty. You’re sure to have lovely children. You do plan to have them, don’t you?”

  “Of course. A little later, though. But about this check. I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. And not a word to Frank.”

  “Then come to the wedding tomorrow. Please.”

  “No. The way Frank feels right now, it would be too much for him. I’m satisfied just to have met you.”

  I glanced at Leo, and he smiled woodenly. He appeared to have been only half listening, and he had not said a word to anyone else. It flashed through my mind what an incongruous pair they were: she was so animated and outgoing and he was such a stiff. But then, who was I to judge? Gloria, I knew, considered Frank and me incongruous.

  “Here comes Frank now,” said Vivian. “Remember, this is just between us.”

  Frank sat down and looked suspiciously at Vivian and me. So did Gloria and my father. The five of us barely spoke during the rest of the meal.

  Vivian and Leo said good-bye in the parking lot and drove off. Pat Malone suggested that Frank and I come out for a drink with him and Gloria, but Frank refused before I could say a word. We got into the car and drove a few miles out of town on the highway. He turned off onto a gravel road and pulled over to the shoulder.

  “Don’t tell me we’re going to neck,” I said, trying to offset the gravity of his manner.

  “There’s something we have to settle right now. You know how I feel about my family. Do you or do you not intend to respect those feelings? I have to know now.”

  “That sounds almost like an ultimatum.”

  “I guess it does,” he said firmly.

  “Do you think it’s fair to be handing out ultimatums the night before our wedding?”

  “A lot of things are unfair, Irene. That’s the way life is.”

  “Thank you, Philosopher Mattison!”

  “Please don’t take that tone.”

  “What tone am I supposed to take when you get sanctimonious with me? I know what brought this on. It’s because I was civil to Vivian.”

  “You were more than civil.”

  “All right, I was. But I must say your behavior left a lot to be desired. Whatever resentment you have for her could be put aside for just one evening. To tell you the truth, I was shocked by you. And disappointed. You know, that first night I came to your apartment, you treated Larry like a prince and I was impressed. Then tonight you treat your own sister as if she were . . . some kind of vermin. Even when it’s apparent she cares so much for you.” A muted snort came through his nose. “Go ahead and shrug it off, but you might just as well shrug off the fact the earth is round. She’s obliging and cautious with you and all she gets in return is the most childish rudeness. She had nothing but praise and consideration for you and she gave us—” I stopped dead, remembering too late the promise I made to her.

  “Gave us what?”

  “Her blessing.”

  “Gave us what?”

  “All right, she gave us a check.”

  “A check? Let me see it.”

  “Frank—”

  “Let me see it.”

  I took it from my purse and handed it to him. He stared at it, then calmly tore it up.

  “That’s just wonderful,” I said. “You won’t even allow her that pleasure.”

  “She’s not going to buy her way into our lives.”

  “That wasn’t what she was doing.”

  “That’s exactly what she was doing. This is the kind of thing I’d expect from her.”

  “I don’t understand it. If it’s a matter of pride—”

  “It’s more than that. All I’m asking of you is that you respect my feelings.”

  “Even when you won’t explain them?”

  “You didn’t grow up in my family, Irene, and I didn’t grow up in yours. Would you like it if we moved far away from your parents and your brothers?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “All right, so we won’t. I’ll respect your wishes. All I ask is the same in return.”

  It sounded reasonable, yet I couldn’t feel it was reasonable. But there was nothing I could say.

  “I want nothing to do with any of them,” he said. “I don’t want to live near them, I don’t want to hear from them—no birthdays, no Christmas cards, nothing.”

  “All right, all right. Let’s not fight over it.”

  “Let’s not, ever again. I don’t want them to have the power to make us fight.”

  The next day, all my father’s reservations seemed to slip away with the smile and the kiss he gave me before we started down the aisle. After the ceremony, the reception was loud and festive. My mother had two glasses of champagne and had to sit down. Lazily, she rested her head on my father’s shoulder. He whispered something in her ear, she smiled, then turned and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Frank saw it too, and he said to me: “That’ll be us in twenty years.”

  When we were ready to make our escape through one of the rear doors, I saw Gloria sitting alone in a far corner of the room. The sight of her made me hesitate a moment. She was sagging forward, her head bowed; and in my brief glimpse I could see her hands lying in her lap, limp and curled like a pair of dead birds.

  The first three years of my marriage I was recklessly happy. I wore my happiness like a badge, oversized and well polished, ostentatious in every way. And I was most ostentatious whenever I was around Gloria. For a long time, I was haunted by that single glimpse of her at the wedding reception, and I wanted to refute any unspoken predictions she might be making about my marriage. She went on being propitiously polite to Frank and guarded around me when he was present. I knew her disappointment in me struck more deeply than she let on, and that alone cast the first solid shadow on the turn my life had taken. I resented that shadow; to eliminate it, I chose to pity Gloria for her blindness.

  She got her Ph.D. and married Pat Malone. Without any apparent resentment, he packed up his veterinary practice and moved it to Los Angeles because Gloria received a job offer there.

  I had got a job teaching at Peck High School (the most desirable school in town because it was new and many of the students were the children of professors), and Frank was hired by the university as an assistant professor. We bought a nine-room, fifty-year-old house and the vacant lot next to it. The first few nights we were in it, we wandered through the large, empty rooms sipping on wine and making plans for the paint, wallpaper, rugs and furniture. A few times, when the second or third glass of wine had mellowed him, Frank would turn misty-eyed, slip his arm around me and assure me that his family was never going to be crowded. I clearly recall the urgency in his voice, as if he were saying we would never starve or perish in a flood or contract a fatal disease. We were never going to be crowded.

  Two months later, I became pregnant. It was verified by the doctor on a Wednesday, but I waited until Friday night to tell Frank. I wanted the weekend right there with no work interruptions, so we could celebrate and play with the future. We stayed in bed talking until Saturday afternoon. That night he took me to the best restaurant in town. In candlelight and over champagne, we suggested names back and forth. By the end of the evening, we were leaning across the table, holding hands, whispering.

  “Why are we whispering?” I whispered.

  He smiled lazily. “Because no one else in the world has to hear us. I want you always to be just a whisper away.”

  That weekend I fell in love all over again, but this time painlessly, luxuriously. Sunday night, Frank gave me a bath in that old chipped tub we would eventually replace. He washed me, oiled me, dried me off, and wouldn’t let me lift a hand to any of it.

  “Until the baby comes,�
�� he said, “you’re the baby.”

  When we got into bed, he stroked my belly in a soft, circular motion, then laid his head there and kissed it.

  “It’s going to be loved,” he said. “It’s going to be so loved.”

  I finished the statement in my head: “The way you weren’t.”

  “Yes,” I said, “it’s going to be loved.”

  He kissed me there again, soft and lingering. “It’s the purest form of love there is,” he murmured.

  I knew I had heard him say that before, but I was too drowsy to recall where and when. I went to sleep with my fingers in his hair.

  She was born on June first, my birthday, and we named her Regina Frances. I had had my heart set on Mary (I was always fond of alliterative names), but Frank argued it was too common and too religious. There was really no other name I wanted, so I gave in when he insisted on Regina. At least, I thought, it sounded dignified: Regina Mattison would be quite suitable for a writer or an actress or a Pulitzer Prize winner. Naturally, I never pictured it in newspaper stories about a murder trial.

  She weighed just under seven pounds and had no hair whatsoever. The first few times she was brought to me for nursing, my joy over this tiny creation was undercut by apprehension. The veins in her head were so large, so near the surface, that I feared she was missing a necessary layer of skin. The doctor assured me she was perfectly normal. But it was really a nurse, Miss Pennington, who put my fear to rest. Whenever she brought Regina to me she would quip, “Here’s Mrs. Mattison’s little road map.” And Frank studied Regina like a road map. He would hold her and look searchingly into that little face, then say he was sure she was going to look like me.

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “It’s too soon to tell. She hasn’t even got hair yet. I just hope baldness doesn’t run in your family.”

  “It doesn’t,” he returned seriously.

  I knew by now he did not welcome any reference to his family. But the day we left the hospital with Regina, he was faced with more than a reference: Vivian was waiting for us in the lobby.