“We’re going to be late,” Caleb called up the stairs. He heard nothing in reply, and without anything else to do, he took the twins and Felicity out to the truck to wait. He didn’t feel like dressing up, didn’t feel like going at all, but Jonathan and Aryl had pressured him. It would be the last fun thing to do this year and the nicest party they’d go to all year. Jonathan won him over talking about the food Ruth might serve.
He wore black pants and a white shirt with suspenders and his flat cap. Everyone else was probably in a suit, but he didn’t care. So what if he looked like a simpleton farmer. He didn’t rub elbows with the people who would judge him for his clothes. He was more worried about the stares and whispers over what Arianna had done.
That whole tabloid worthy spectacle.
That worry was almost enough to make him cancel despite the food.
The children babbled and poked each other beside him. He knew Arianna had been looking forward to this. He caught her smiling, gushing over the gown that she’d borrowed from Ruth and pouring over her small stack of magazines looking for the right hairstyle. So was this him trying? He grimaced as he looked out the window of the truck. He wasn’t sure. He’d never had to try before. He didn’t know what it looked like.
Jonathan told him about the club. He begged him to go and see it for himself if only to see how they all slipped into make believe. Told him about the woman with the broken tiara.
It was so easy, he told him, to remember.
It wasn’t safe for Arianna to remember. He knew that now. Like Aryl with his broken arm, getting a dose of opiate painkiller, Arianna’s demons rose up just as fierce amidst glitz, glamor, and alcohol.
Yet here he was, taking her to a beautiful house, an expensive party, so she could see and experience all the things she used to have.
He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Was he insane? Was he trying to drive her away?
No, he thought as he raised his head and saw the back door open. Even feeling distant, he was doing what little he could to make her happy. They all had their demons.
This was his.
He saw her walk out the door and wondered if she’d changed her mind. Her hair was done as if she was going to church. She wore a white summer dress with yellow trim and white flat shoes. If she was wearing any makeup, he couldn’t tell. It surprised him when she opened the door, pulled Samuel from the spot where she would sit and then arranged him on her lap as she closed the door.
“All ready?” she asked.
“I am. Are you?” he asked.
“Yes.” She pulled Felicity on her lap as well, leaving Savrene more room in the middle. “We might want to think about getting something bigger,” she said.
He pulled his eyes from her and backed the truck in a wide circle. “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
With the party in full swing, Claire tried to pay attention to what the old woman was saying. Mrs. Middleton, in her early eighties and owner of Seaside Floral, went on and on about all the arrangements Ruth had ordered and how wonderful it was to have respectable wealth moving to the area. There was so much scourge running about since the crash. Leaning her head, she whispered prices discreetly and peeked up to see if Claire was impressed. Claire faked it as best she could. Then Mrs. Middleton went on to explain the contents of each arrangement, the type of flowers used, where they were grown, how they were grown and which ones were brought in from afar, special for the occasion.
Claire caught every third word, nodding here and there. Her attention was across the room where Aryl stood looking like a ghost from the past. She still wasn’t used to seeing him perfectly shaved with the short hair he wore during the rich years. He did fill out his jacket better now. He was talking to Ruth and that more than how he looked had caught her eye. It looked like casual enough conversation, nods and pleasant smiles. But from the moment they started talking, they began to creep to the side, separating themselves from everyone else.
Claire narrowed her eyes, trying desperately to read their lips. She wondered if he was confronting her on offering to loan her money in her predicament. Surely, he wouldn’t do it here, in public. She felt a wave of panic as she saw him thumb over his shoulder. Ruth nodded and followed him out of the ballroom. They were going to talk privately. Mrs. Middleton was rambling on when Claire walked away without a word.
She moved through knots of guests, trying not to seem too anxious to get across the room. By the time she did, she’d lost them. She whirled around, looking in all directions.
Thinking they could have gone outside, she walked through the double doors against the breeze of the ocean. Shielding her eyes against a brilliant sunset, she panned the manicured lawn and beach beyond and saw nothing.
It was too warm and her heels were too high to go running all over searching for them. She decided to take a glass of champagne from a passing tray, find a shady spot to sit and hope for the best.
***
Arianna’s eyes traveled from one side of the ballroom to the other. She had no complaints. The party was expertly planned. She only wished she’d had a hand in it.
But that was her own fault, she reminded herself.
Caleb trailed behind her. She could sense he was looking for Jonathan or Aryl and knew he would excuse himself the minute he saw them. She saw the bar, contemplated, and looked away. He wandered to a table of hors d’ oeuvres. She watched him, tuning out the chatter all around her and could only hear the ocean in the distance. Quietly, she slipped off into the kitchen where more staff was busy churning out platter after platter of decadent food. She took a used one, swiped the remaining bits into the sink and, bumping past a plump older woman, plucked a hand towel, and wiped it off. No one slowed down long enough to ask what she was doing.
Back in the ballroom, she began going around the room, loading the platter, ignoring the strange looks she was getting.
Caleb had wandered off. She took the platter, managed to get through with all the food intact, glaring at a few hands reaching out, mistaking her for staff. She spotted Jonathan and Ava by a fire pit grilling pineapple on skewers.
“Jon, Ava, can I get your help?” she asked.
“With what?” He eyed the platter.
“I’ll show you.”
***
A few hundred feet down the beach, Jonathan dropped an armload of wood. It was obvious what she was doing. What wasn’t obvious was why Caleb wasn’t with her. Ava was carrying a blanket and asked where she wanted it. She pointed while Jonathan arranged the wood.
“You don’t have to worry about lighting it. He might not come, even if I ask him to.”
Ava smiled and ran her hand down her arm. “He’ll come.”
Arianna set the platter on the blanket and looked up, squinting against the sun. “I hope so.”
***
She didn’t tell him where they were going and he didn’t ask. He mumbled something about not being able to find Jonathan or Aryl and wondered where they were. They walked along the beach slowly.
“Jonathan is with Ava by the table with the pineapple. He can’t get enough.”
“Humph.”
“I haven’t seen Aryl.”
“I’m sure he’s with Claire.”
“No, I saw her sitting alone on the patio.”
He shrugged. “What are we doing?” he finally asked.
They came around a bend. He saw the blanket, platter, and fire. Jonathan had lit it anyway. It made for a beautiful scene.
“I thought we’d eat here,” she said, walking ahead of him.
“Why, when there’s a party going on back there?”
She turned slowly. “I thought it was a little obvious that we didn’t really fit in, you know?” She plucked at the skirt of her simple dress. He looked over himself and raised his head again.
“I don’t care what they think,” he said quietly.
“I don’t either. I just thought we’d be more comfortable here.”
“We or me?” he
asked.
“We.” She reached out slowly and took his hand. He didn’t pull away. “We’re not the same people anymore. Either one of us.”
He stared at her for a long time. “You’d rather eat cold food on the beach than be at the party?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s not just because of the clothes that we don’t fit in. I don’t belong there anymore.” She let his hand slip away.
“Why’d we bother to come?”
“So I could show you.” She waited and watched for any sign that he was softening toward her. Any hint that he still loved her and that there was hope. He was unreadable.
She moved away, he caught her hand and pulled back, reeling her in slowly.
“Do you mean it?”
She moved her head. “I swear it.”
Only inches away from her, he turned his head to look out at the ocean. He felt the repelling force paralyzing him again, only this time, he fought it. He found her eyes humble, if not a little afraid. He knew this would be hard. He just didn’t know it would be this hard. If he let himself be vulnerable to her again if he softened, she had the power to hurt him again. Distance was safe, but it was lonely. She moved a leg and he gripped her hand.
“I am trying,” he said.
“I know.”
He leaned in slowly to kiss her and dropped his head at the last second, fiercely battling his pride.
“You don’t have to,” she said softly. “I know you can’t right now.”
Aryl was right. For now, all he could do was show up. He was here. She was trying. Something felt right about that.
“You’re right. I can’t. But you can.”
She wanted to throw all her love and apology into it, but it would be too much too soon. Pressing her lips to his in a way that was almost platonic, she counted to four and moved away.
He watched her walk to the blanket and sit down, letting a moment pass before he joined her.
She handed him a chocolate dipped strawberry.
“It’ll get easier,” he said out loud, reassuring her or himself, he wasn’t sure. She nodded, moved a little closer, and handed him a short vine of grapes.
“It will.”
***
“How on earth did a gutter rat like you manage an invitation to a party like this?”
Peter turned slowly. “I could ask you the same thing, uncle.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Not so loud,” he warned.
“Maybe I’ll shout it from the rooftops. What do I have to lose?”
After trying to decide how serious his threat was, Grant flashed a smile.
“I read in the paper that you married that little journalist. Think a cheap courthouse wedding and a piece of paper will keep her from leaving once she finds out about you?”
“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Which is why I told her before. Told her everything before.”
Grant’s nostrils flared. “You never were a smart one, Pete.”
“In the past, no. But once I figured out what I wanted—” His eyes floated over to Muzzy, taking a picture of Ruth and a few guests—” I decided to stay one ahead of you.”
“You like trouble, don’t you?”
“Not so much anymore. This party is nice, the food is delicious, and my wife looks stunning. I’m in a good mood, so I’ll propose this. You live your life and let me live mine. Your secret is safe so long as you leave us alone.” He held his hands out. “It’s real simple.”
“Everything has a price, kiddo. I taught you that young. Thought you would have remembered.”
“Clearly,” Peter said, gripping his glass with white knuckles. “This is the part where you try to get something out of me, right? You insinuate thinly veiled threats to her safety and think you can put a price on it and I’ll run scrambling trying to come up with the money. But that’s not how this works. Let me tell you how it is now. And this is real simple, too. Here’s the price if you come anywhere near her. I will kill you. Slowly. Smiling. You won’t win this, so don’t even try. Go slither off and find someone else to grift.”
Grant puffed up with a menacing stare and did his best to think of some stinging retort. In the end, he did slither off, grumbling.
Peter let out a long, slow breath. He’d waited a long time to have the upper hand with his uncle and it felt better than he’d anticipated.
***
“Is this spot taken?”
Claire opened her eyes, surprised to find Aryl standing by the vacant chair next to her.
“Of course not,” she said and noticed how light he looked. While the hair and the clothes were visions of their old life, now his eyes and smile were, too, and it was almost eerie.
“Are you sure? You’re not waiting for anyone special?” he asked.
She sat straighter in her chair. “I was waiting for you.”
He sat down, grinning.
“Why on earth would you think I was waiting for someone else?”
He shrugged and waved for a drink. It was like being transported through time for both of them. He seemed to be enjoying it immensely.
“Things have been tense between us,” he said casually. When the waiter arrived and bent, Aryl took two glasses and handed one to her.
“They have. But I’m not sure this is the right time to talk about it.” Claire found herself irritated. All the time that had passed, all the silent dinners, the missed opportunity at the beach, and he wanted to talk about it here, now.
“Actually, I think it’s the perfect time.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “You’re still mad at me, and you’re determined to ruin my good time.”
Aryl sobered. “No, that’s not it at all.”
“Then why now? Why right now?”
“Because I had an idea a few days ago, and I didn’t know if it was possible. Tonight, I found out it was.”
“What idea?”
A few people had gathered near and Aryl eyed them. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Out on the beach, it didn’t take Claire long to take off her shoes and carry them. Aryl did the same and rolled up the legs of his pants.
“What about these?” she asked, holding up her empty champagne glass. He took his from the sand, plucked hers from her hand, and tossed them both in the water.
“Aryl! Those are Ruth’s!”
“I’m sure she’ll lose more before the night is over. Peter and Grant looked like they were ready to hurl them at each other a while ago.” He grinned, looking over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t miss it if a fight broke out.
“All this trouble to dress up and we end up walking on the beach, sweating, and getting sandy.” She didn’t mind and meant it to be teasing. She felt better now that they were away from everyone.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked. For a moment, she stared, deaf and dumb. Standing on the beach, looking how he did, the colossal stone house in his shadow, his relaxed smile… all of it took her back to before the fight, before the opiates, before the move, before the crash—took her right back to her honeymoon.
“I have a solution,” he said and she blinked out of her daze.
“A solution for what?”
He started walking slowly and she followed.
“You don’t want any more children, right?”
She paused before saying no.
“Why did you hesitate?” he asked.
“Because I feel awful for saying it. Like a good woman should want to give her husband a houseful of children. I just don’t.”
“You’re not bad or any less of a woman for not wanting more than Jac. I’ll admit, he’s a handful. It’s as if you gave me ten children all rolled into one,” he said, waving his hand. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Like I said, I found a solution.”
“I thought we had a solution,” she said, peering at him discreetly.
Aryl laughed. “My sleeping on the sofa for the rest of our marriage is not the answer. I’m getting really tired of it and assu
me you are, too.”
A grin slipped. “Yes, I am. What’s your idea?”
The sun had slipped below the horizon and though it was still light enough to see their way, they were no longer blinded by the harsh glare.
“I talked to Ruth. She’s going to loan us the money and recommend a good surgeon who specializes in sterilization.”
Claire stopped, her eyes wide, hardly believing what she was hearing.
“And you’re all right with this?” she asked in a breath.
“Yes. Preventing and terminating are two different things. Believe me, I don’t ever want us faced with this again. The only way to be sure, because sleeping apart is only going to work for so long before one of us folds, is if there is no possibility of becoming pregnant.”
Stunned, she resumed walking. She’d never thought of being sterilized, but the idea brought a tremendous amount of relief. She tried to imagine for a moment what that would be like, to never have to worry about it again.
She looked up at him suddenly. “When can I have it done?”
“Not you. Me.”
Her eyes nearly fell out of her head at this, and he laughed at her expression.
“Aryl, what are you talking about?”
“I’m going to have it done.”
She didn’t look at all comfortable with the idea and moved closer to him. “They only do that to criminals and the insane,” she said quietly.
“Not true. It’s done more frequently now. In fact, I knew two men back in New York who had it done while they were in Germany. For different reasons. They had a few women on the side and didn’t want to worry about things getting complicated. But other men have done it, too, for legitimate reasons. Sigmund Freud, for one.”
“Why would you want to do it? I’m the one who doesn’t want more children.”
“I’m fine with only Jac. Honestly. And the reason I don’t want you to do it is because, well, things can change. Especially in our life, things can change quickly.”
“No matter who has the surgery, we can’t change our mind at that point,” Claire said. She tossed her shoes down and sat in the sand, tucking her legs behind her.
Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 25