The Belle and the Beard

by Kate Canterbary

  "But I really want to know," Magnolia argued. "So does Dad."

  "That entitles you to nothing," Linden said. His tone was absolutely lethal. I was actually surprised his family was still staring at us and not falling over, dead.

  Suddenly, the freeze thawed enough to allow something inside me to click into place. I dug deep to find the smile I used to put others at ease, and the sweet, lilting tone that made everything I said sound gentle and complimentary. "I'm happy to offer some insight, aside from the pieces I've already shared publicly," I said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Though I couldn't bear to let this fabulous meal go cold."

  "All I really need to know is how you and Linden are"—Rob gestured to us—"how this came to be."

  "My goodness," Diana muttered as she pushed to her feet. She grabbed the rice and scooped some onto Ash's plate, then Zelda's. She went around the table, filling plates and murmuring about her family's sudden shortage of manners.

  "I've decided to step away from Washington," I said. "Linden is my new next-door neighbor."

  "Isn't that adorable?" Magnolia squealed. "It's adorable."

  "That actually is pretty adorable," Zelda said.

  "Do you know you have a legit fan club?" Rob asked. "My wife is obviously the chairwoman but you should know there are a lot of people who respect the hell out of you."

  "Well, that's very generous," I said, even though I doubted every word of it.

  "I'm the treasurer," Carlo added. "I don't know what you're doing now, missy, but you have my vote."

  "Oh, my. No, no," I said. "Some people are candidates, some people are behind the candidates. I'm behind the candidate. Rather, I used to be, before I was relieved of my responsibilities."

  "That was the shittiest thing I've ever seen on the internet," Rob said. "And there're a lot of shitty things on the internet."

  "Robert," Diana chastised.

  "Sorry, sorry," he murmured.

  "You're better off without them. I have zero clue how you lived through all that chaos but I am certain you're in a better place now," Magnolia said. "You know what? We need to go dress shopping soon."

  I hadn't used any of my warm-affable-outgoing skills in more than a month and found myself frowning at her when I didn't follow this jump in the conversation. "What's that?"

  "Dress shopping," she repeated with a wave toward Zelda. "We need dresses for the grand anniversary gala my parents are throwing, and you are joining us. Weren't we just saying how we need to get together and find something to wear, Zel?"

  Zelda bobbed her head. "We were comparing schedules last night."

  "We'll have lunch too. It will be so much fun. Please say yes. Please?"

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Linden draw in a deep breath. He shifted his hand to the back of my neck, gave me a slight squeeze. I wasn't sure whether that was permission or warning. Either way, I hadn't spent time with women in too long and dining out for lunch was a far-off memory. "I'd love to."

  "Now, we're finished with all of this talk," Diana said firmly. "We will eat and stop interrogating Jasper."

  "I don't mind," I said, which was what you were supposed to say when you minded very much but didn't want anyone else to feel uncomfortable.

  "You might not, dear, but I make the rules at this table," Diana replied.

  Very well, then.

  Linden leaned in again, his hand still on my nape and his beard barely tickling the spot below my ear. "You're a snake charmer."

  "Something like that," I whispered back.

  "I can't decide if I'm impressed"—he dropped his hand high on my thigh—"or scared."

  "Be scared. Very, very scared," I said with a quiet laugh.

  "You don't have to do this dress thing. I can get you out of it."

  "You must not have been very impressed if you think I need you getting me out of anything." I covered his hand with mine. "No need to worry. I'll be quite all right with your sister and Zelda."

  "I don't doubt it," he murmured. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should though. There's nothing wrong with letting me handle things."

  There was much wrong with letting him handle things but that wasn't an argument I'd win while whispering at his mother's table. I nodded, saying, "It's nice of you to think that."

  "Right now, I'm thinking about getting us the fuck out of here. Want to fake a headache?"

  I shook my head. "Not on your life."

  He breathed a soft growl against my jaw. "You're such a tough cookie."

  "Then it's a good thing you love eating cookies as much as you do."

  His grip on my thigh tightened. "Mmm. It is."

  "If we can't talk about Linden's cult celebrity girlfriend," Magnolia said, "we should at least talk about baseball."

  "I can agree to that," Ash said.

  With a slight groan, Linden shifted away from me. "Right. We'll be so much more civilized talking baseball than we were politics. Makes sense."

  Magnolia brushed several pieces of rice into her hand from where they had dropped to her belly, saying, "The next game is at home. Thursday. First pitch at five o'clock."

  "Honey. Sweetheart. Love. Do you really think this is a good time to go to Fenway?" Rob asked her.

  "It's the playoffs, Rob. I'm required to go," she replied.

  "You're not. You're not required at all." He glanced to Ash and Linden for support but found none. It was awkward as hell to watch a couple nice-fight but at least I wasn't the center of attention anymore. I could enjoy Diana's delicious fish and rice, and drink my wine, and enjoy the bear paw resting an inch from my panties. "Would that even be comfortable for you?"

  "Probably not," she said.

  "It's a lot of walking," he continued. "And those seats."

  "But it's the playoffs. The three of us haven't missed a playoff game at home in twenty years. We're not starting now just because I'm pregnant."

  "You're in your third trimester with very energetic twins," he said. "Pregnant is an understatement, my love."

  "Magnolia, listen to your husband," Diana said.

  She stared down the table at her mother. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I'm just saying, your husband knows what's best for you."

  "Shall I go rip the Equal Rights Amendment Now sticker off your car? Or would you rather I wait until my husband gives me permission?" Magnolia asked. "What about the 'well-behaved women never make history' one? Should I grab that too?"

  I took a sip of wine because I needed something to do with my mouth that wasn't laughing out loud. This family was hilarious. They were incredible. I didn't even know family could be like this. I didn't know people could belong to each other with so much love and humor and snark. I didn't know that was what family meant to some people.

  I didn't know what I'd been missing.

  Carlo blinked at his wife. "How many gummies have you had tonight?"

  "Not nearly enough," Diana replied.

  Rob blew out a breath and stared at Ash with can you believe this? eyes. Ash gave him the I can't help you here, man shrug. Linden smirked at both of them as he rubbed my inner thigh.

  "So, Thursday it is," Magnolia said. "Does that work for everyone?"

  Linden turned to me, asking, "Are you good with me going to a game on Thursday night? I'll be back late. Probably ten or eleven."

  There was another beat of silence, similar to the first but without the same gravity. This one was curious and the proof of that lived in the six pairs of eyes trained on Linden right now.

  "This is blowing my mind," Ash said under his breath.

  "Same," Magnolia said.

  "Ignore them," Linden said with an impatient shake of his head.

  "Go to the game," I said. "I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me."

  "Yes, I do," he mouthed.

  The meal continued in much the same way—the triplets snapping back and forth with each other, Diana and Carlo peppering in wildly amusing and slightly odd commentary, food appearing on my pla
te even when I insisted I'd eaten more than enough—and I couldn't shake the sense this was how it was supposed to be. This was what I'd been missing, the place and the people and the connection I'd longed to find in my life, and now it was here, all around me, and I didn't trust myself with it.

  I didn't know how to wrap my arms around all of this—the burly bear of a man, the family that didn't make sense but that was what made sense about them, this quiet corner of New England—without reminding myself I couldn't keep any of it.

  17

  Linden

  I learned three things about Jasper tonight.

  One—she didn't like being called beautiful. I wanted to understand but I didn't want her shutting down on me like she did in the woods this morning. I'd figure it out eventually.

  Two—I'd always known she was capable of crushing people but I had no idea she could do it without them knowing they were being crushed. She crushed my entire family this evening and it was the greatest thing I'd ever witnessed.

  Three—it shocked her every time I remembered boring little things like the wine she preferred. This was the second time I'd watched that reaction whip through her and I was certain it was one of shock. I didn't see how something as simple as grabbing the bottle she favored was worthy of shock but I wasn't to make an issue of it. Not yet.

  And one last thing—I was a bit more attached than I cared to admit. Only a bit. Not very attached, not reorganizing my life to fit Jasper attached. Not imagining a future. Nothing like that. No, I wasn't that attached.

  I wasn't.

  But I was beginning to think she'd crushed me too.

  18

  Jasper

  I had a complicated relationship with my body.

  Things were better now but I'd struggled to understand—and shield myself from—the ways people treated me as a result of this body.

  When I was eight years old, I started attending church services with my extended family. They kept an eye on me when my mother couldn't so I was on my best behavior. Not a toe out of line, not even when the women who gathered to gossip over coffee and cookies pointed at me with their Styrofoam cups and called me "the beautiful one" with undisguised contempt woven into the words.

  They never called me by my name but they stared, their eyes narrowed and their lips curled up as if they expected me to shape-shift into the kind of serpent who tempted Eve out of the Garden.

  They announced with great authority that I was full of myself, I was a stuck-up brat. Look at the attitude on her. Thinks she's something special. They often said my family would have to watch out for me, that the trouble I'd cause would place a real burden on my aunts and uncles. I had no idea what any of that meant and it made me want to put my head down and hide, but I didn't dare stray from my aunt's side. I couldn't get in trouble. My mother couldn't handle that on top of everything else.

  They took a great interest in my birthmark. Some of the more devout gossipers believed it was the devil's mark, that I'd been touched by evil, and evil was inside me. Those who didn't see the devil in everything insisted I had to get it removed. No one would want me with that mud stain on my face. Others proclaimed it was good for me. I needed a flaw to keep from getting a head about myself. Whatever that meant.

  I never told my mother about it. She'd already explained there was no getting through to Aunt Leslie and that I just had to follow her rules, even if they didn't make sense. Her kids got the belt and unless I wanted that, I had to keep my mouth shut. There was nowhere else for me to go, not until the summers when I could stay with Midge. I had to be good, and quiet.

  When I was twelve and my body was changing in sudden and unpleasant ways, they still pointed and stared. They said it would be any minute until the teenage boys got their hands on me, that they'd know what I was about, that I'd ruin families looking the way I did. I didn't understand that either but it terrified me. I was afraid all the time, looked over my shoulder constantly. I avoided my male cousins and their friends at all costs and refused to ride alone with any of my uncles.

  When I was fifteen and in possession of what could only be referred to as tits—for they were not breasts, they were not boobs, they weren't even jugs, they were big, bouncing tits that seemed to develop overnight—those women replaced "the beautiful one" with "the slut," "the whore," "the trash."

  I hated myself. I didn't want to be a slut, a problem, a girl who had something bad coming to her because she lived in a womanly body. I hated everything about myself and I wanted it all to go away. I wanted to go away.

  So I learned to disappear.

  I started wearing sweaters with blouses that buttoned up to the throat and full, A-line skirts that fell past my knees. At the time, retro was not cool and everyone thought I was going through some kind of Bewitched-meets-Happy Days phase but I didn't care. Endlessly rummaging through thrift shops and church bazaars gave me a project that didn't involve making myself small and ashamed, and my new style was distracting enough to take the attention away from my body.

  At eighteen, I didn't know the expression damned if you do, damned if you don't. The gossipers still criticized and called me names and I didn't understand how my existence could be wrong all the time, regardless of how I showed up in this body. But I started sensing they were wrong, and after a decade of hardening myself to their cruelty, I taught myself to stop caring.

  I figured out I could exist in this body without hiding it. I could be as much of a woman as I wanted and I'd take no shit about it. Tits, curves, birthmarks—they belonged to me, no one else. Skirts, dresses, pantsuits—it didn't matter. The only issue on the table was my competence, and on that, I delivered every time.

  People still told me I was beautiful. I still felt the need to shrink and apologize.

  I bristled when shopgirls made offhand comments like, "What can I help you find today, pretty lady?" or my boss said, "Our lovely Miss Jasper will take care of that" or my ex-husband introduced me as his gorgeous wife.

  And then I felt awful for bristling because it was just a compliment! How silly was I to be injured by a few kind, simple words? Why couldn't I just accept the nice comment and move on with my life?

  And then I remembered those gossipy women and the hateful, churlish things they said to me when I was a handful of years old. They were angry and insecure for reasons that had nothing to do with me, and that anger blinded them to the fact they were taking out their insecurity on a child.

  I was better now. Time and distance eroded away the worst of it, even if I had occasion to freak out over a compliment. It was easier to be excessively competent than it was to be beautiful, even if beautiful carried more currency. It was safer and I'd weaponized that competence to protect myself.

  I didn't hear the gossipers in my head anymore. Not usually. I knew they were full of toxic shit. Though I also knew they were probably gathered together after church every Sunday, clucking and cackling over my public downfall, which they'd predicted would come to me.

  19

  Linden

  My brother elbowed my side, saying, "I told you so."

  Ignoring him, I finished typing a text message to Jasper. We had a very strict no-phones-at-the-game rule but that existed only because Ash would spend the first half answering emails. It didn't extend to the care and tending of the honey-haired belle I'd left at home with a reminder to be good and stay away from the tools.

  Linden: Behaving yourself, Peach?

  Jasper: Why start now?

  "Do you see this?" Ash called to Magnolia.

  I should've known better than to sit between them. After that family dinner, I should've sat clear across Fenway Park rather than subject myself to this assault.

  "Ash, I am a land whale. I cannot see anything," she replied. "If you want me to comment, you'll need to spoon-feed me the necessary info. And also nachos. I need you to feed me nachos too."

  "Lin is texting," Ash said.

  He couldn't have sounded more alarmed if he'd said Lin is riding a rh
ino.

  It was Magnolia's turn to elbow me. "You never have your phone with you. This must be for real with the pretty politics girl."

  "Could you two watch the game? For fuck's sake, it's the playoffs. You're gonna give birth any minute and—"

  "Yeah, that's the plan. Born at Fenway," she joked. "No better birth story than that."

  "Don't make me call your husband," Ash said. "Rob is not on board with that plan."

  "Not his vagina, not his plan," she replied.

  "Jesus Christ," I muttered.

  Linden: What are you doing tonight?

  Jasper: I'm not baking anything, if that's what you're asking.

  Linden: That's a relief.

  Jasper: I'm doing some research. Checking out jobs that might make sense for me.

  Linden: Making some lists?

  Jasper: You know it.

  Linden: Any leads that sound promising?

  Jasper: I don't know. There's some get-out-the-vote work that could be really interesting. It's not high profile, it's not glamorous, it's not going to make me rich.

  Linden: …but?

  Jasper: But it matters, you know? This stuff really matters. It makes a difference.

  Linden: Tell me more about it later?

  Jasper: All I do is babble out every single thought I've ever had to you so, yeah, I'll tell you more about it.