Together Alone

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Dawn’s fingers found the car keys like a magnet to steel. She swept them up and made for the door. “This is great, Mom. Thanks. I won’t be long.”

  Celeste listened to the ensuing silence with a surprising sense of regret. She had been looking forward to Dawn coming home. So what had she gotten? Five minutes? Ten?

  Then her gaze settled on the piles of dirty clothes on the floor, and she sighed. Oh, yes, she had been looking forward to Dawn coming home, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

  • • •

  By nine o’clock Saturday night, cars lined China Pond Road from the cul-de-sac halfway to Walker. What had started as a small gathering was resembling a class reunion—and Emily didn’t mind a bit. Jill had earned this impromptu party, in payment for all the years she had limited herself to the few friends who wouldn’t disturb Doug’s weekend.

  And where was Doug? Talking business with the president of the college. He had asked Jill if she would be angry if he took off for several hours. Jill had sent him off with a hug.

  The stereo filled the house with sounds Emily didn’t know, but she knew the kids and moved eagerly from one to the next, listening to their tales, plying them with food. The dining room table was covered with the munchies she had made. When they were gone, she called the pizza house, and when the soda supply thinned, John went out for more.

  Eating and drinking their share in the kitchen along with the other parents who popped in to say hello, were Kay and John, Celeste, and Brian. Julia had been part of the younger set, passed from one erstwhile babysitter to the next, until she had fallen asleep in Brian’s arms. As often as he said he ought to take her home, he was such a comfortable member of the kitchen circle, that each offer was met with protest by the others.

  Once, returning to the kitchen with a bag of empty soda cans, Emily stopped at the door, looking in.

  “Someone’s pleased with herself,” Celeste remarked.

  “I am.” She left the door, set the bag down by the sink, and came to stand between John and Brian. Her fingers found Julia’s baby-silk curls. “I’ve always wanted this kind of open, happy feeling, with lots of friends milling around. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

  She was feeling ebullient, thinking that if Doug was perfectly happy at the college for several hours while she and Jill did what they wanted most to do, then everyone won, when the telephone rang.

  It was Linda Balch, Myra’s daughter-in-law. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said hurriedly, “but we’ve been trying to reach Myra and we can’t get through, not yesterday, and not today. We thought she might have been out earlier, but I can’t imagine she still is. Not so late.”

  Neither could Emily. “I’m sure that I saw the lights go on before. There may be something wrong with the phone. Let me run over and check.”

  “I apologize. It sounds like you have a party going on.”

  “It won’t take but two minutes to check, and now that you’ve mentioned it, I want to know, too.” She took down Laura’s number.

  When she told the others where she was going, Brian started to rise. John put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Baby’s sleeping. Sit.”

  Leaving the sounds of the party behind, Emily and John went across the street. The lights were on, but when they rang the bell, no one answered. They rang again. They tried knocking. They peered in the front windows, but saw no sign of Myra.

  Emily grew worried.

  “Let’s take a look in back,” John said. “Maybe she’s having trouble hearing.”

  The backyard was all murky shadows and pond-damp smells. They went up the steps and knocked on the door. Emily found it unlocked and pushed it open. “Myra?”

  She heard an answering sound, quiet and indistinct. “Where are you?” she called.

  She stepped into the kitchen, but did an about-face when John said, “Out here.”

  “What?”

  “She’s out here. Over there.”

  Emily hurried back down the steps and across the lawn. Myra was a wraithlike figure, pressed against one end of the wrought iron bench. “What are you doing here, Myra? It’s too dark and cold to be out at this hour.” She slipped onto the bench and took Myra’s thin hand. When she felt how icy it was, she stood right up again. “Let’s get her into the house,” she told John.

  Myra went meekly. She didn’t protest when Emily sat her in a kitchen chair and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and she took a cup of hot tea in her hands.

  “Maybe we should get her to the hospital,” John suggested under his breath, but Myra heard and shook her head.

  “No hospital.”

  Emily drew up a chair. “Why were you outside?”

  “I wanted to be near the willow.”

  “Laura was worried. They tried to reach you yesterday, and again today.” She looked at John, who picked up the phone and listened for a dial tone, nodded, shrugged.

  “I heard the phone ringing,” Myra said before Emily could ask. “I just didn’t feel like answering. I didn’t want to talk with anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  Myra drank her tea, one sip after another. She stared broodingly at the cup.

  “Why not, Myra?”

  “Because people don’t listen. They don’t hear what I say. I’m just an old lady, babbling on.” She set the cup on the table. “Thank you, Emily. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  “Would you like to sit at my house for a little while?”

  But Myra held up a hand in refusal, rose, and set off for the door. Emily was ready to catch her if she swayed, but she didn’t.

  “I’ll stop in tomorrow,” she called, then said to John as they let themselves out, “She’s lonely. Her family thinks she’s losing it. I never thought so.”

  “Do you now?”

  “No. She’s not irrational. Just sad. I guess that’s what aging is about?” She looked to John for an answer, but he didn’t have it, and once they were back at Emily’s, once she had called Laura with a modicum of reassurance, she was swept up in the party again. She was in the living room, surrounded by Jill’s friends, when Brian came looking for her. She returned to the kitchen with him.

  John was at the back door, ready to leave. Julia’s sleeping lump had been transferred to Kay, suggesting Brian was going with him.

  Emily’s first thought was of Myra, but before she had time to imagine anything horrible, Brian said, “John got a call from the station about an auto theft. They thought we should come.”

  “For an auto theft?” Emily asked in surprise.

  John said, “The stolen auto is Nestor Berlo’s Lotus.”

  “Ahhhh.” Enough said. “Will you be long?”

  “Depends on what we find and when we find it.”

  Brian added, “Kay says she’ll take Julia back to my place and put her to bed if the party breaks up before.”

  But Emily had a better idea. “Julia can stay with me. I’ll make a bed for her on the sofa. Celeste will drop Kay home.”

  Brian was comfortable with that arrangement. He liked having an excuse to return to Emily’s. He wanted to see what was going on there. He wanted Doug to know that Emily and he were friends.

  And from that? Maybe jealousy. Maybe anger. Maybe an exasperated, “Do what you want. I’m outta here.”

  Brian wouldn’t mind if Doug walked out. It wouldn’t change Emily’s life, other than to allow them to be together without the guilt. It seemed like forever and a day since they’d touched.

  John drove to the Berlo estate, turned in at the stone gates, and followed the curving drive to the four-car garage. All four doors were open. The cruiser was parked nearby, its headlights glancing across the bays while its red-and-blues lit the night.

  Nestor separated himself from the patrolman and was waiting when they climbed from the car. “I’d like this handled quietly,” he told John.

  Brian was puzzled.

  Not John. “I underst
and. When did you find it gone?”

  “Just before I called you. I was out for the evening in the Jaguar,” which stood behind him in one of the four bays. “As soon as I pulled in, I knew.”

  “Think your wife took it?”

  He gestured toward the small Mercedes in another bay. “That’s hers. She never drives the Lotus.”

  “Was she with you?”

  “No. She’s with a friend.”

  Brian was wondering why a couple would go their separate social ways on a Saturday night, when John asked, “Could her friend be driving the Lotus?”

  “If he was, his car would be parked here. It’s an Olds.”

  The only other car, also in the garage, was a shiny new sports car.

  “Then it’s the boy,” John said.

  “Damn right,” muttered Nestor.

  “Think he’s gone far?”

  “He never does. He’ll be cruising around Grannick. You’ll find him fast.”

  “What do you want us to do?”

  “Hold him for the night.”

  “Huh. You sure?”

  Nestor turned and set off. “I’ll come by for him tomorrow.”

  A short time later, combing Grannick for the Lotus, Brian said, “What’s going on?”

  John shrugged. “He has money. We aim to please.”

  “The chief of police, babysitting on a Saturday night?”

  John shrugged again.

  “Is Berlo that important to the town?”

  “He gives money. He’s also worth watching.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Whole family’s screwed up.”

  “Screwed up, how?”

  “Father has a lover, mother has a lover. There’s an older son who went off to college and never came back.”

  “Never?”

  “Maybe for a day or two here and there. Far as I know he hasn’t stepped foot in town since he graduated. That’d be two years, now.”

  “What about the younger one?”

  “He isn’t a bad boy.”

  “Funny, that’s what Harold said when the kid tried to lift a bottle of vitamin C from the drugstore.”

  John spared him a brief look. He drove down one street and up the next before he said, “What’d he want with vitamin C?”

  “That’s not the point. The point is, he had money on him. He didn’t need to shoplift. I got the impression from Harold that he’s done it before. Know anything about that?”

  John thought about it a bit too long.

  “So what’s the kid’s problem?” Brian asked. “Simple rebellion?”

  John shrugged.

  Brian pushed. “Is the father as tough as he seems?”

  “He’s tough on his kids.”

  “Abusive?”

  “In a way.”

  “What way?” Brian asked, growing impatient. Of the things he enjoyed about Grannick, small-town protectionism wasn’t one. “Spit it out, John.”

  “The father’s gay.”

  Gay. Brian hadn’t imagined that. “How do you know?”

  “There was some trouble a while back.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “At the golf course over in Melon Falls. He was having a thing with one of the caddies. The boy was from Grannick. Nestor would pick him up to drive to the course, only sometimes they never got there. When the boy’s parents got wind of it, they were upset.”

  “Jesus. I’d think so.” He guessed the outcome. “Berlo wasn’t prosecuted, was he.”

  “Nope. They settled.”

  “His name wasn’t on your list of sex offenders in Grannick.”

  “We owe him that much, after what he’s done for the town. The incident I just told you about happened a long time ago.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Seventeen, eighteen years.”

  “Now, there you go,” Brian complained. “There’s a sex offender who was in town when Daniel Arkin disappeared, and his name doesn’t appear once in the report. Was he ever questioned?”

  “Officially, no. I told you, we didn’t make assumptions on pedophilia then, like we might now. Besides, he was out of town the whole week.”

  “Was that corroborated?”

  “Yeah. Besides, Nestor was never violent. He never forced the caddie, just promised goodies afterward. That’s how the parents found out. The kid started coming home with a new bike and fancy sneakers. There’s the Lotus.”

  John pulled up behind the car. It was one of four parked on the rim of the quarry, Grannick’s lover’s lane. Brian wondered what they would find in the Lotus.

  Richie was alone. He was glaring out the window with both hands on the wheel. He knew he had company.

  So did the occupants of the other three cars. They also seemed to know who that company was. With comic speed, heads popped up, and the drivers fired up their engines and took off.

  John put a knuckle to the window and gestured for Richie to roll it down. Brian leaned against the hood of John’s car.

  “How’re ya doin’,” John said.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Like the car?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Your father thinks it’s more than that. He thinks it’s special.”

  Richie made a disparaging sound.

  “He’s not happy you took it.”

  Richie said nothing.

  John opened the door. “Come on out now. We’ll take a ride to the station.”

  Brian waited for him to protest, and was profoundly sad when the boy only said, “Will he be there?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  The hands on the wheel loosened a bit. “What about the car?”

  “My partner will return it.”

  Brian approached. Richie gave him a wary look.

  John made the introductions. “Richie Berlo, Brian Stasek.”

  If Richie recognized Brian from that time in the drugstore, he didn’t let on. He simply asked, “Do you know how to drive this?”

  Brian eyed the beautiful beast and smiled dryly. “I can manage.”

  “You’d better not grind the gears. He’ll know. He goes apeshit over this car.”

  “Is that why you took it?”

  Richie looked abruptly furious, seeming ready to explode with the reasons why he had taken the car. Then his anger fizzled. “Yeah. That’s why.”

  “Come on now,” John repeated before Brian could ask another question. “It’s late.”

  Richie left his car and entered John’s. He sat in the passenger’s seat, no questions asked.

  Brian waited until John drove off before starting the Lotus, but as he drove, it wasn’t the sleekness of the car he was thinking of, or its power. He was thinking that Richie Berlo led a troubled life, and that, irrespective of his father’s largesse where the town was concerned, someone had to address that. The boy was begging for it.

  Brian wondered what he would try next.

  Exhausted but content, Emily and Jill sat curled against the pillows on Jill’s bed with only Cat between them. Jill yawned into a smiling sigh. “That was fun. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Don’t thank me. I had as much fun as you did. You have nice friends.”

  “I want you to meet my friends from school. They’re nice, too.

  “They seem it—at least, the two who’ve already called here do. Who’s Adam?” He was one of those calls. Emily didn’t want to make a big thing about it. All she wanted to know was how old he was, where he was from, what he was studying, whether he was a prude or a lecher.

  “A friend. He’s sweet, but I’m not rushing to hook up with anyone. It’d be too confining, when there are so many great kids there. I’ve met some really nice ones. I’m lucky.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it. Nice people attract nice friends.”

  Jill made a face that was only half comical. “So how’d you attract Daddy?”

  Emily touched her hair. “Hey. Where’d that come from?”

  “He isn’t very s
ociable. He could have hung around to see my friends.”

  “You gave him permission to leave.”

  “Because it was clear he wanted to. Parties make him nervous.” She grinned. “But it was a great party. I loved seeing everyone. Brian’s cool.”

  Emily had been wondering what Jill thought of him, but would never have asked. She was doing everything in her power not to think about Brian. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

  “He has incredible eyes,” Jill remarked.

  “Quite. And a precious daughter, and nice ways.”

  “I’m glad he’s living here. It makes me feel like you’re less alone. The bathrooms look great. What else will you do?”

  “With the house? Clean this room.”

  “No. Not this room. Not yet.”

  “Jill, it’s a mess.”

  “But it’s my mess. I like it this way. I was nervous on the bus ride home. I kept thinking I’d walk in here and everything would be changed. It’s nice to know nothing has.”

  Emily felt a pang of guilt. Things had changed. Big things. Like Emily taking a lover. Only it didn’t show in ways Jill could see.

  Emily didn’t know what to do about Brian.

  “So what are you going to do with yourself?” Jill asked. When Emily looked blank, she said, “If you’re not doing more around the house. Can you and Daddy take a vacation?”

  “We are. In two weeks.”

  “That’s Parents’ Weekend. It doesn’t count.”

  “Sure, it does.”

  “You should go away away.”

  It was a thought that had even more merit now than when Jill had first suggested it. Doug wouldn’t go willingly. But they needed time alone, good quality time, to work things out. The last thing Emily wanted was to be cheating on her husband, but when basic needs weren’t met—no, there wasn’t any excuse for it.

  “I’ll work on him,” she said.

  “Are you doing more for the Sun?”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever Rod needs. And Petra, whenever.” Emily prayed it would be soon. Jill would be back at school in three days—the thought brought a giant hollowness, still, yet, again. Doug would be back at work, wherever it was he was going this week. Without some kind of diversion, Emily would be thinking about things she shouldn’t. “Connie Yeo needs help in her store. I love books. Selling them might be fun.”