A Family Trust

by Ward Just

  Dana looked at her watch. It was late. She drank the last of the coffee and began to move. She set a fast pace down, finding the path and sticking to it, at times running headlong through the heavy grass, the thermos slapping against her leg. She rushed to the center of town, then loped down the road to her house. She never looked back, glad finally to be rid of the mountain and its hawks and oratories and ledges. When she reached the front door Cathy and Myles were there, looking nervous. Cathy ran to her with a cry and she knew then that Myles had told her. Bless him. She comforted her daughter and moved off into the house; she was packed, but it would take her a moment to check everything. She would not be back in Ireland. Just a minute or two, she said; I’ll be right along. Then she hurried upstairs with Cathy, wanting to talk with her a little, and explain why they were going home to Dement to be with her grandfather, who needed them both now.

  THEY MADE good time, Myles driving. McGee and Shirley were to arrive at one-thirty from Paris, then board the three o’clock Aer Lingus to New York. Dana dreaded everything about the flight and sat staring out the window as Myles sped along the narrow country lanes. She believed she wanted to live in Ireland forever; there was nothing about it that reminded her of the United States. At Shannon he drove directly to the terminal, wheeling the car smartly to a halt at the curb.

  He said, “I want to come in with you. And I think I will.”

  From the rear seat Cathy said, “Why can’t Myles come with us?”

  He looked at her. “It’s popular demand.”

  “Yes,” she said thickly “Yes, please.”

  “Excellent ” he said.

  “I want you there when we meet McGee and that woman.” Then she corrected herself. “Shirley.”

  “I’ve got to park this car.” They all looked around them, as if the car were suddenly an insurmountable obstacle.

  “We’ll go with you,” Dana said. “We’re only a few minutes late. They can wait for ten minutes. Do them good, a wait.”

  Myles turned away into the parking lot and quickly found a space. He fetched the three bags from the trunk and the three of them began to walk to the terminal. When they entered he felt Cathy’s hand stiffen in his own and knew that she had seen them. Then he saw them both standing beside the information booth, McGee looking agitated and his wife grim. It was either satisfied or grim, one or the other. Not a bad-looking woman, Myles thought; a little too “done” for his taste; you could hang a sign around her neck—wet paint, don’t touch. But a good-looking woman nonetheless, though not so good-looking as Dana; not so alive; not so graceful. She didn’t move as provocatively as Dana did, thought she was making a good show now, finding her smile as Cathy and Dana walked slowly toward them. McGee bent at the waist to accept his daughter and Dana and Shirley shook hands. Myles brought up the rear with the suitcases and he could see McGee’s jaw muscles tighten as he recognized him. McGee did not, in the strictest sense, “approve” of Myles’s presence in the menage. “Irregular,” he had described it to Dana. She was talking in a low voice, and though, her shoulders were squared and her head was high, she looked small and vulnerable before them. He saw Cathy turn away and both McGee and Shirley register shock and heard their words, which came in chorus, I’m so sorry. McGee’s hand went instinctively to Dana’s but he offered a brief touch, no more. Dana mumbled a few more words in a low voice and then McGee turned to Myles.

  “How are you, good to see you. You know Shirley, Myles?”

  Shirley smiled cordially at him and they shook hands. She said, “I think we could all use a drink,”

  “There’s not much time,” McGee said doubtfully.

  “Nonsense,” Shirley said. “There’s plenty of time.”

  Dana said, “I’ll go check us in, Cathy and me. You all go to the bar—”

  “Of course,” McGee said. “You’re on the flight, too.”

  “For the funeral,” Dana said. She winked at Cathy and she and Myles walked off. They leaned against the counter while the attendant went through the formalities of checking tickets against passports and collecting the airport tax. Myles kissed her on the cheek and she smiled bleakly. Then she collected her tickets and passport and they turned and slowly walked the length of the terminal.

  “What do you think of her now?”

  Myles shrugged. “She’s all right.”

  “Stylish,” Dana said.

  “Yes, that.”

  “Sexy”

  “Not sexy” Myles said,

  “Very sexy”

  “How the hell would you know?”

  “She wears clothes well.”

  “She wears expensive clothes and does as well as she can with them. Limited equipment.”

  Dana smiled grimly. “You’re saying all the right things. I’ve never known you to fail to say the right things.”

  “That is because I always speak the truth,” Myles said.

  “She pushes him around,” Dana said.

  Myles looked at her aslant. “Nonsense.”

  “All right,” she said. “Touche.” She put her hand in his pocket and made a fist. “Myles, I don’t want to go with them on this flight. I don’t want to have to talk to them. I want to be by myself for a while. I don’t want to make chitchat—”

  “I’ll explain it to McGee.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll explain it.”

  “You explain it to her. I’ll explain it to him.”

  She said, “You explain it to her.”

  “No, she’s so sexy I’m afraid my emotions will run away with me and I’ll rape her on the harstool.”

  She punched him in the ribs and laughed. “We’re going to say good-bve here.”

  “No, want an Irish coffee. And I want that son of a bitch to pay for it.” They were approaching the airport bar and she pulled on this pocket. “Hey,” she said. “You’ve been good, you know?” He grunted and walked on a few steps. She said, “I’ll see you in New York, Just drop the key to the house off at the agent’s, lock the doors—” They were moving relentlessly to the bar; she could see the three of them at a table near the door. No one was talking. “Lamb, please.” He turned to took at her and saw she was near tears. He pulled her off to one side and they leaned against the watt, her head on his chest. McGee was watching them from the bar, frowning. He said, “Remember, I’m not going to New York from here. I’m going to London.” She said, “Qh,” as if she hadn’t heard him. correctly. He reminded her that he had an interview at the BBC; a promising job, working with an old friend. She smiled and did not let go of him.. “Of course,” he said, “I might not take it.” She said, “You’ll take it, You always do.” Her voice was muffled and he could not discern its tone. He said, “London doesn’t have a lot of appeal for me right now.” She nodded sadly. “When are, you due back in New York then?” He said briskly, “Not long, before the end of the month for sure. To collect my things, That is, if I take the job. Which I don’t think I will.” He said, “You take it easy now.” She looked at her watch and nodded, then at him, so weather-beaten in. his dark corduroy coat and shapeless trousers; his hands looked a size too large. Their eyes locked, slid away, and locked again, They stood silently for a moment and then their arms were around each other and they kissed. Dana, on tiptoe, ran her hand through his hair, tugging a little, her fingers trembling. Then with a whispered word she was gone, through the glass doors, meeting McGee and Shirley and Cathy. McGee was agitated; his coat was over his arm and he was standing, consulting his watch. Dana seemed aware of herself as she sat down quietly and listened to McGee, Then they all rose, Myles watched it for a moment, feeling very much a foreigner; he hated to see her go. He wondered what he would do now, alone in Ireland for a week. He was a man who liked company, the more, company the better, except when he and Dana were alone. The prospect of a sedentary holiday in a small town in western Ireland did not amuse him. He knew some journalists in Belfast; perhaps he could go there. Also an old friend in Dublin, He could call the old friend
and go there for the weekend. Or say the hell with it and go to London now. Walking to the car he realized she had not told him what to do with it. He supposed she’d rented it at the airport and he could return it there. Oh hell, he muttered aloud. She’d said, I like you so much. He’d figure out what to do later, in Hanrahan’s. There was no better place. There were always one or two shakers in Hanrahan’s, ready for talk and drink; there would be no lack of companionship for the remainder of the afternoon. He did not have to be alone after all.

  The aircraft was not full. The four of them boarded together, McGee and Cathy leading the way, Dana purposely bringing up the rear. Outside it was raining lightly, “a soft day” as the Irish said. McGee found four seats together and indicated to Datia that she take the single. Cathy could sit next to the window, he could sit next to Cathy, Shirley could sit next to him, and Dana could sit across the aisle. It was like seating a formal dinner, Dana thought. Shirley complained that they were not traveling first class, where the seats were larger and the company more agreeable. McGee replied patiently that first-class seats were expensive and the holiday had already cost him “the crown jewels.” Cathy asked for a glass of water. Shirley said that the stewardess would be by in a moment, dear, Why didn’t McGee go forward to fetch some magazines, Time or Paris Match if they had it? Why hadn’t he thought to buy a newspaper in the terminal? Cathy said that she was really thirsty now. McGee replied that if she wanted a newspaper she could have bought one herself, newsstands were not sexist in their sales policies. They would sell to anyone, male or female. Cathy asked when they were going to get there. Shirley said that it would be about six and a half hours, dear. McGee tried without success to cross his long legs, and cursed the narrowness of the space. He said, “Shit.” Shirley said that she would’ve bought a newspaper if she’d only thought of it. That was her mistake right there because of course she couldn’t depend on him. Cathy said that the stewardess was just coming down the aisle, would Shirley ask her for a glass of water, please, Shirley complied and the stewardess smiled and replied that it would be just a moment, dear. And drinks too, you will have drinks? Shirley asked. As soon as we are airborne, ma’am, we will be serving drinks and a meat shortly thereafter. McGee grumbled that the damn seats were too narrow for his long legs but Aer Lingus was a line airline, he iiked the Irish accent. Shirley smiled triumphantly and said nothing. Cathy looked out the window at the rain and wondered when the plane would leave and her father replied, In a minute, precious. Dana. told them that she wanted to nap for a bit and would return later, when dinner was served, Maybe. McGee grunted. Shirley said that she had some Dramamme and sleeping pills, if Dana needed either one; the sleeping pills were prescription and perfectly safe. Thanks no, Dana said. These trips were such a bore, Shirley said. Indeed, they were, said Dana. She was standing now. Shirley smiled warmly and said that after Dana had had her nap they could have a drink together, pointedly adding that she would join her in the rear, at her seat, where they could stretch out a bit. How nice, Dana said, and fled to the rear of the plane.

  She sat in an aisle seat and watched the plane taxi to the end of the runway, turn abruptty and heave forward. As they banked steeply over the airport, she looked for Myles in the little Austin; no sign of him. She wondered what he would do alone for a week. She doubted he would stick it out; for sure. he’d fly to London or Paris to see friends. Myles, poor lamb; whenever he began to feel the slightest bit caged he found a new job. His cage doors slammed like clockwork once a year; you could set your watch by it. She liked him better than any man she had ever known, and was in love with him in some region of her heart and mind; but just now she was content to be alone. She looked straight up the aisle. The other three were sitting calmly not speaking, staring straight ahead. Cathy looked to be reading something; she could just see the top of her head between the seats. The stewardess was serving them drinks and McGee leaned over and took both trays, handing one to Shirley. He had changed very little physically, since they’d met thirteen years ago. He stilt wore his hair short and had not gained a pound, or did not appear to have gained; he remained slim as a pencil and only his sideburns showed white. What was he now? Forty-eight or thereabouts, a boyish middle-aged man. He did not took forty-eight unless you had known him when he was thirty-five. It was strange, the absence of obvious signs of aging, thinning hair, weight, a certain ponderousness, made him ... suspicious. She thought with a smile that he was one of those men who looked older than they looked. It was all there if you’d known him before, in. the expression around the eyes, the brittleness of his fingers, the fussmess. It was present in his conversation; he always had an abstracted quality. Now he seemed permanently tuned low, a man of muted volume, very well bred. But Good God he had been a handsome man, there was a time when she could not keep her hands away from him; and vice versa. The physical contrast with Myles was striking, Myles so bulky, lines everywhere, a paunch, muscular arms, thick fingernails, bristling eyebrows, a big smile always. It was like putting a buffalo next to a racehorse.

  She watched the Irish coast recede, then disappear altogether as they flew into a cloud. She gave her order to the stewardess, who had finally reached the rear seat. The plane was only half full and Dana had no one next to her. She moved her shoulders irritable then reached under her shirt and unhooked her bra. It felt more uncomfortable unhooked than hooked so she went into the lavatory to take it off altogether. She took off her shirt and sweater and struck a pose in the mirror. She pivoted to inspect her back, still raw where Mules had scratched her; or bit her, one or the other. But nicely, she remembered. Myles was always gentle. Except for that afternoon on the mountain; he had not been very darn gentle then; but she hadn’t been particularly gentle either. She stood in the bad light, hands on her hips, and regarded herself. She was in no way sagging, and there were only hints of handles above her hips. She stood up straighter and they disappeared. Flat stomach, smooth neck, good shoulders, no gray. She touched the nipple of her right breast and felt it harden and felt also the beginning of a blush. She bit her tip and smiled at herself in the mirror: she was all there, nothing was missing. Then she turned sideways and threw her shoulders back. There was a red patch on her ribs where the bra had dug into her and she rubbed it now, brushing the underside of her breasts with her fingers; they thickened and rose at her touch and she smiled again. She liked them well enough but wished they were just the slightest bit larger. Every man she had ever known had praised her and reassured her that she was Perfect (and women had always looked at her with admiration) but from the time she was twelve she’d wished for just a little bit more. Perfect, Men repeated it like a litany, a public prayer of confidence and celebration. No, her tits had never lacked for attention. Myles told her that he intended for Harvard to receive them for their well-known Tit Bank at the world-famous medical school. This official Bank was a secret closely guarded by the authorities at Cambridge but since he, Myles, was a valued graduate he had “pull” and could assure her that whatever happened to the rest of her body and soul her tits would have eternal life and would in fact be cloned. She was not to worry, he would see to it ... She began to giggle and the plane gave a lurch, sending her back against the bulkhead. She leaned against it, her head to one side, her thumbs in her trousers, knees apart, remembering her and Myles together on the slope of the mountain, the sudden wonderful violence of it. Oh damn, she said softly, aching, her thoughts backstepping in time, the vivid past enclosed by the present; never forgetting the present; the present surrounded her always as the film raced. Deliberately turning away from the mirror she put on her shirt and the sweater over it and put the bra in her handbag, deep and out of sight. Her nipples stood out plainly inside her sweater and. she thought that was a shame because no one was there to see them. If Myles were there he’d make a lewd remark and do his best to excited her, thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean, It wouldn’t take much, she thought. She stood another second looking at herself in the mirror. She heard a vo
ice; the pilot was explaining something. Well, she had always had good coloring; auburn hair, good bones, genuine smile, a slender soft body and at that moment a flushed face,

  She returned to find her drink on the middle seat. When she sat down she noticed the stewardess look back, then quickly front. Prop-ably wondering what had happened to her. Then she saw McGee approaching her, walking slowly down the aisle on the way to the lavatory She hoped her vibrations were still there. Serve him right.

  “You got a drink all right.”

  “I did.”

  “I paid for it,” he said.

  “Well, thanks.”

  “Dana, I’m truly sorry-”

  She held up her hand and for an instant her mind went blank. She crossed her legs. “Thank you.”

  “Was it sudden?”