“That young man will make his mark one day,” Pearl said in the darkness. Then she added as an afterthought, “You could do worse than Joe Bullock.”
Susan hugged herself and thought that she could do no better. But fat chance.
CHAPTER 17
IF JOE DIDN’T SEEM TO pursue Susan that June, Peter Fanshaw did. Before the lilacs bloomed, he wrote, asking if he could spend the weekend in Georgetown. He’d take the bus and get a motel room, since he didn’t want to impose.
“You remember I told you about Peter Fanshaw? He’s stationed at Lowry,” Susan said to Pearl the afternoon she received the letter. Susan rarely interrupted her mother when Pearl was writing, but she would have to answer Peter’s letter right away.
“Um, what?” Pearl asked, distracted. “By the way, what was that superstition Bert Joy told us, the one about a dog lying in a doorway?”
“If a dog lies outside the door with his head inside, you’ll get a new family member before the year ends. If the dog lies inside the door with his head out, someone will die. That one?”
“Is that it, or is it the other way around?” Pearl thought a moment. “I’ll have to ask Bert.”
“We don’t have a dog.”
“I saw one down the street. I’m writing about superstitions. I was told my mother believed in them.” She turned back to her typewriter, then looked up at Susan. “That’s not why you came in here, is it, to talk about superstitions?”
Susan shook her head.
Pearl smiled. “You were talking about a young man, I believe, the enlisted man.”
“His name is Peter. I told you. I just got a letter from him.” She held it out. “He has the weekend off, and he wants to come to Georgetown.”
“Do you want him to?” Pearl’s hands had been poised over the typewriter, but now she put them into her lap.
“I guess so.” Peter didn’t know anything about her family, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
“Is this serious?”
“Not for me.”
“But for him it is.” That was a statement, not a question.
Susan shrugged.
“I see. He’s probably bound for Korea, isn’t he? I should think any young man in that situation would be serious. Should I write and invite him to stay in the Bride’s House?”
“Would you?” Suddenly, Susan liked the idea of Peter visiting in Georgetown, Joe knowing that he was staying with her and her mother.
Pearl nodded.
So the following Friday afternoon, Susan met Peter as he got off the Greyhound. He looked handsome in his uniform, and she couldn’t help speculating what Joe would think when he saw him, whether Joe would be jealous. She hoped so. Peter put his arms around her and tried to kiss her, but Susan broke away, embarrassed, saying, “There are too many gossips in Georgetown.”
“Later then,” he told her, swinging his flight bag into the back seat of the Mercury, then getting in beside Susan. “Nice town,” he said, as she drove down Rose Street, then over to Taos. When she stopped the car in front of the Bride’s House, Peter looked up at it, a little intimidated, and said, “You told me you had a cabin.”
“Did I?” Susan remembered then that when she’d met him, she had not wanted Peter to know she had money. “The Bride’s House is a little better than a cabin, but it’s not any big deal. Nobody wants these old houses. You can’t give them away.”
“It’s huge. It’s bigger than the orphanage I grew up in.”
Susan found the remark unsettling. She loved the Bride’s House with its history and its sense of family. How awful to have none of that, to have your childhood memories centered on an institution. Without realizing it, she took Peter’s hand and led him up the front walk, telling him that her grandfather had built the house for his wife, repeating the story about Nealie dying after giving birth to Susan’s mother. “She’s inside, Mother, that is. She’s anxious to meet you.” In fact, Pearl hadn’t appeared anxious at all. She’d said little about Peter.
They went into the foyer, Peter whistling when he saw the polished walnut staircase that clung to the wall, circling as it reached the second floor. He dropped his bag onto the floor and stepped into the parlor, where Pearl came to meet him, her hand extended. “We’re delighted to have you here, Peter,” she said.
“Thanks, Pearl.” Pearl’s face tightened a little at the familiarity. She was nearly seventy. None of Susan’s friends had ever called her by her first name. “This is nice for such an old place,” he said, and Pearl replied somewhat stiffly that she hoped he would find it comfortable.
“Would you like something to drink? We have lemonade and iced tea in the refrigerator.”
“Got a bottle of beer? No glass. I’ll just hold the bottle by the neck in case I have to hit some ghost over the head. I bet a house as old as this has ghosts, doesn’t it?”
“None that we’ve encountered.” Pearl raised her chin a little. “I’ll see about the beer.”
Susan bit her lip, thinking this weekend might not have been such a great idea. She’d been excited for Peter to visit, but now she wasn’t so sure. She took Peter to his room, then went into the kitchen. “Mother, for heaven’s sake, lighten up. He didn’t go to prep school. He grew up in an orphanage.”
Pearl was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry for that, Susan, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He’s nervous. He’s nicer than you think.”
“I’m sure he is.” Pearl took out a bottle of beer, rubbing her hand up and down the neck.
“He’s old enough to drink. He’s twenty-six. Do you want his ID?”
Pearl didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “Are the two of you getting together with Peggy and Joe? You could invite them here for dinner tomorrow.”
Susan thought that over. Peter would be at a disadvantage at the Bride’s House, where he would realize how much Pearl liked Joe. He might say or do the wrong thing, and Susan wanted him to look good. “Maybe we’ll just meet them at the Red Ram,” she said. Peter would fit in at the Ram. Maybe there’d be a band, and he would sit in on drums, which would impress everybody. Peter came into the kitchen then and opened the beer, grinning at Susan. When Pearl left, he put his arm around Susan and leaned down and kissed her on the ear.
* * *
The next day, Susan and Peter stopped at the Miner’s Daughter to ask Peggy to join them at the Ram that evening. Peggy didn’t notice Susan enter the shop, but she saw Peter and gave him a sly smile. Peter grinned back, looking so sexy that Susan preened at being with him.
“What are you doing in Georgetown? Did the Air Force invade?” Peggy asked Peter.
“He came to see me,” Susan answered for him.
“Oh, hi, Susan,” Peggy said, looking back and forth from one to the other, a little disappointed.
Susan introduced the two, then said, “Peter came to spend the weekend with me. We stopped to ask if you wanted to go to the Ram tonight, you and Joe.”
“You bet. We were going to the movies, but this sounds better.” Susan felt a pang of jealousy that Joe had invited Peggy out. Maybe he’d know how she felt when he saw Peter. The three made small talk, until Peggy said, “I put aside a scarf I thought you would like. It’s in the storeroom.” She turned, and Susan followed her. “He’s a hunk. How come you never told me about him?”
“Didn’t I? He’s one of the guys I dated in Denver.”
“Is he serious?”
“Oh, Peggy.”
“Well?”
Susan gave Peggy a knowing look. “I don’t want to talk about it. Where’s the scarf?”
“There isn’t any scarf, dummy. I wanted to know what was going on. How long have you known him?”
“Since before Christmas. What’s with the third degree?” Susan really didn’t mind, because she knew that Peggy would repeat whatever she said to Joe.
“It’s because you’ve been so secretive. Where did you meet him?”
Susan t
ook her time answering. Then she said slyly, “He picked me up on the streetcar.”
* * *
“So, are you career Air Force?” Joe asked Peter, after they had ordered a round of beer.
“No, I’m thinking of going to school when I get out.”
“Where?”
“That depends.” He sent a knowing glance at Susan, who looked away. She wanted Joe to think she was interested in Peter but not that interested.
“Are you getting shipped out to Korea?” Peggy asked.
Peter nodded. “The end of the month, it looks like.”
Susan jerked her head around and stared at him. He had not told her that. Of course, she’d known he would go sometime, but she hadn’t thought it would be so soon. That was why he’d come to Georgetown—to tell her.
“I admire you for joining the service,” Joe said.
“Then why don’t you join up, too?” Peter snapped. “I get sick of guys who admire the rest of us for putting our lives on the line for our country.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Susan said, unable to keep from defending Joe. “He’s going on to law school.”
“It’s called draft dodging.”
“I’m not even sure why we’re fighting over there,” Joe said. “I’d like to think there’s a purpose to it.”
“I don’t think about that. I signed up to defend my country.”
“From who?” Peggy asked.
“Anybody you’ve got.”
Susan didn’t like the way the conversation was going. She’d wanted the four of them to have a good time, not a confrontation over Korea, and she patted Peter’s hand under the table. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs.
But Joe was not ready to let up. “It’s not even a war,” he said. “It’s a police action. You’ll be part of a police action.”
“Tell that to the men who’ve died there.” Peter sat up suddenly and the chair almost fell over. The waitress set down four bottles of beer, no glasses, and Peter paid her before Joe could get out his wallet. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Fine with me, but I can’t imagine anybody joining the Air Force to fight for something you don’t even understand,” Joe replied. They were silent a moment, then he asked, “So who are you backing for President, Peter?”
“I haven’t thought much about it. General Eisenhower, I suppose.”
Joe scoffed, made a face. “I’m for Adlai Stevenson. Susan, too, of course, since he’s a friend of her parents.”
Peter turned to Susan. “Your folks know Stevenson?”
“Well, yes.”
“Anybody that rich is bound to know him,” Peggy said. “Frankly, I like Ike.” She giggled.
“Yeah, Peggy, you and me both,” Peter agreed. “He’s a military man.”
“The worst President we ever had was General Grant. Generals make lousy Presidents,” Joe said.
Peter leaned back in his chair again, his hands behind his head, his chest out. “You mean like General Washington?”
Susan had to laugh. “Good one,” she said, while Peter grinned at her.
“He’s the exception,” Joe said, not wanting to concede. “In general, they’re not very good.”
“In general,” Susan punned, and Peter toasted her with his beer bottle, while Joe glared.
The evening wasn’t going well. It certainly was not going the way Susan had planned it. Instead of being jealous, Joe was annoyed, with her as well as Peter. He probably had decided Peter was an idiot, might even think Susan was one, too, for dating him. Perhaps he thought she couldn’t do any better. That idea angered Susan, because Peter was perfectly nice, a man who had done all right for himself. So what if he planned to vote for General Eisenhower instead of Governor Stevenson? “Why don’t we have another round?” she said, hoping they would find another topic of conversation along with it.
“We’re going to the movies,” Joe said, as if meeting Susan and Peter hadn’t been important. “You coming, Peggy?” And Peggy said she was. Susan felt a wave of disappointment watching the two stand up together, Joe with his arm around Peggy, as if she was his property.
Then as Peggy reached for her glass to finish off the beer, a young man bumped into her, making her spill the drink. “Watch it, twerp,” she told him, and the boy laughed as he headed for the door.
“Hey.” Peter started to grab the man, but Susan put her hand on his arm. “That’s her brother,” she told him.
“Some luck, huh?” Peggy said. “I’ve got two more at home just like him. I wish I’d been born an orphan. Yeah, I should have been Little Orphan Annie. Orphans are lucky.”
Joe laughed as if Peggy had said something witty, while Susan tried to think of a retort—for Peter’s sake—but he took her hand and squeezed it and she was still.
“Well, see you around,” Joe said, when the four of them stood outside. He turned to Susan with a look she didn’t understand, and she thought maybe it was disdain. To hell with you, she thought.
The two couples parted, Susan and Peter watching Joe open the door of Asthma for Peggy, then pulling away without waving or looking back. Susan shrugged, thinking she should apologize to Peter for Joe, but she didn’t want to talk about him.
“Hey, why don’t we drive up into the mountains?” Peter said. “I’d like to see them at night.” They went back to the Bride’s House for Susan’s convertible, and she drove west on the highway, through Silver Plume, toward Loveland Pass.
“Pull off here,” Peter said, when they came to a side road, a trail that led through the pine trees.
Susan stopped the car. She’d been mulling Peggy’s words as she drove along, embarrassed by what her friend had said. “Peggy didn’t mean anything by that orphan business. She doesn’t know about you. What she said was insensitive and crude, but she didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Most people don’t understand what it’s like—growing up in a dormitory without a single thing to call your own. Even your name. I was dumped at a fire station, and some nurse named me after her boyfriend. That girl doesn’t know how lucky she is with a bunch of brothers, even if they are jerks. If I die in Korea, nobody’s going to be sorry, no father or mother or grandparents. Nobody.”
“I would.”
“Would you?”
“Of course I would.”
“Then let’s get married, before I leave. Let’s not wait. We’ll have a couple of weeks together, and then if something happens to me, you’ll get the survivor benefits.” He removed a strand of hair that the wind had blown into her eye. “But maybe you don’t need them. You’re not who I think you are. This car, that house. You’re rich, aren’t you?”
“Sort of.”
“So why did you pretend you weren’t?”
“I didn’t really. I just didn’t want you to know about the money. People treat you differently when they find out you have it. When I was a kid up here, Peggy acted like I was an outcast because we’re rich. So I keep my family to myself. But if you want to know, my father’s head of a molybdenum company, and my mother is a famous newspaper columnist.”
“Pearl Curry.” Peter thought that over. “Pearl Something Curry. Oh yeah, that’s why her name sounded familiar. I’ve heard of her. They sell a book she wrote in the PX. That’s your mother?” Susan nodded, and then Peter said something that surprised her. “I wish you were just ordinary. If you were, you might need me. Like I need you.” He put his arms around her and kissed her, and when she kissed him back he began pulling at her clothing.
“Don’t,” Susan said, straightening up. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” When Susan didn’t answer, Peter tugged at the buttons on her blouse. Then he unfastened her bra and gently pushed her back against the soft leather seats of the car and kissed her.
“No, don’t. We can’t.” Susan put her hands against his chest.
When he turned to her, Peter’s face in the moonlight was a series of soft gray
planes. The starlight reflected in his eyes. He took her hands and kissed them. “It’s exactly right. Come on, Susan. We both want this.” He pushed at her clothes and then at his own. “I’ll stop if you really want to,” he murmured.
Susan closed her eyes and felt a shiver that went all the way through her, and then a longing so great it brought tears to her eyes. Why shouldn’t she do it? After all, Joe and Peggy did, and Joe had made it plain he didn’t care about her. She felt Peter’s hands move over her, and for an instant, she confused him with Joe. But then she knew he wasn’t Joe, and she didn’t want to do this thing with him. “Peter, don’t. I don’t want this,” she said, trying to push him off her. But it was too late, and Peter didn’t stop. And when it was over, Susan blamed herself.
* * *
Susan offered to take Peter to Denver on Sunday, but he told her no, that he didn’t like the idea of her driving back on the highway by herself. “I’ve done it a dozen times,” she said.
“If we say good-bye here, I can remember you in the mountains, remember the way you were last night.” His eyes were soft and warm. “Are you okay?” Susan glanced at the ground, embarrassed, but Peter told her, “Look at me. There’s nothing wrong with what happened. It’s what people do when they love each other.”
Did she love him? Maybe a little, or she would have tried sooner to stop him. But enough to marry him? Not yet, she thought as the two walked from the Bride’s House to the bus stop beside the Red Ram, carrying Peter’s flight bag between them.
“If anything happens…” Peter said, but she shushed him, and he didn’t finish. Instead, he took her hand, and they stood in the summer sun until the bus arrived.
He sat on the far side of the Greyhound, where Susan couldn’t see him, but she stood there until the bus pulled away, watching until it disappeared down the highway. She felt regret as well as an overwhelming sadness that she didn’t understand. She was confused, too, and she didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to face Pearl. That morning, before the two had gone downstairs, they’d had a disagreement. She’d asked her mother, “How come you don’t like Peter?”
The Bride’s House Page 31