by John Harvey
He stirred his coffee, though he had added nothing to it. Looking her full in the face, he said, ‘I’m scared.’
‘I know the feeling. I’ve gotten past it.’
‘I don’t know if I can.’
She made him stop stirring his coffee. ‘You’ll have to learn, Jack. You’ll have to grow up.’
‘You were always the more mature one, I remember that. You took care of me.’
‘You were such a boy. But a lovable one.’
‘And now I find out that after I left, you took the fall for us both.’
She consulted her watch, Swiss-made, one he had bought at the PX in Frankfurt. Her twenty-third birthday. He had thought her younger. ‘I’ve booked you a room,’ she said, and his eyes showed his dismay.
‘Why can’t we share yours?’
‘I’m not the same woman, Jack. I don’t have the same body. I may not even have the same soul.’
‘Pretend we’re old and gray. We’ll just hold each other.’
When she did not respond, he said, ‘Please.’
The room was small, the bed big. A low light was left burning because Gretchen did not like the dark, though he did not remember it a problem in the past. Her head lay snugged in the crook of his arm. Her hair smelled of hotel soap.
‘Marry me,’ he whispered.
‘Too late, Liebling.’
‘You never taught me German.’
‘You never took the time to learn. You Americans expect everybody to speak English. Incidentally, your daughter speaks three languages, yours included.’
‘When do I see her?’
‘Arrangements have been made for her to come to you after the school year. I’ve written all the details out for you. Promise me you’ll always look after her.’
‘I swear.’
Her hand touched his cheek. ‘I love you, Jack. I always have, and I don’t trust any Americans, except you.’
‘I’ve never known you to be cynical.’
‘After what happened in Dallas, I thought the world would blow up. The assassination reeked of conspiracy.’
‘I have too much on my mind to be bothered with that.’ His free arm drew her closer and tightened, as if never to release her.
She squirmed. ‘You’re hurting me, Jack.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m glad my mother went first. It wouldn’t have been right if I had.’ She stretched her legs against his. ‘You can turn the light out now. I feel safe.’
The morning was mild and brought with it the first tender leaves of spring, and the sudden appearance of a monarch that fluttered near Jack. He and the young woman stood outside a stately brick house on South Main Street, not far from his flat at the Bradford Manor. He was in the process of buying it, the papers soon to be signed. The young woman was surprised.
‘Why all this?’ she asked. ‘Must be at least a dozen rooms in there.’
‘You know why.’ He had told her about his daughter and in the next breath had asked her to marry him. Now he was asking again. ‘Please, look at me.’ Then he noticed that something was different. ‘Why aren’t you wearing glasses?’
‘Men don’t make passes at girls who do. Dorothy Parker said that.’
The mention of the name brought him up short. Where had he heard it before and why did it give him a chill? He said, ‘I’m well off, Sally. You’d never have to worry.’
‘I know that.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘I know you don’t love me.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘What you want, Jack, is a mother for your daughter. What is she – twelve, thirteen? I’m only seven years older.’
From tall shrubs came the berserk squawk of a jay. ‘You’d be like a big sister. And we’d have children of our own.’ As they approached the shrubs, the jay flew away. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I seem to need you to tell me.’ They passed a rose bush awaiting bloom. ‘Tell me about her, Jack. Am I anything like her?’
‘Who?’
‘Gretchen.’
Something clicked. Stopping in his tracks, he asked, ‘Who’s Dorothy Parker?’
‘She died recently. She was a brilliant woman.’
‘So was Gretchen.’
They waited in the parlor of the Methodist minister who was to marry them. Sally wore a pearl choker Jack had bought her and a satiny blue dress on which he had fastened a corsage. He had on a three-piece suit with a boutonnière. Leaning toward her, he whispered, ‘I’ll be a good husband, I promise.’
‘I know you will, Jack, and I love you.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Where the hell are they?’
The witnesses were late, Marion’s fault, but they were on their way, though at the moment they were waiting for the lights to change.
Edward drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Come on, come on,’ he said, and red turned green as if so ordered.
Marion shook her head. ‘I still say she’s too young for him.’
‘It’s not that much of a difference. What’s ten or so years?’
She removed a mirror from her purse and checked her face. ‘And tell me something, Edward, how does he know that kid in Switzerland is his?’
‘He showed me her picture. Couldn’t be anybody else’s.’
Marion impatiently shook her head. ‘How gullible you men are. Over in Germany with all the GI’s, you know what the women must have been like.’
‘How would I know? I wasn’t there.’
‘Why not, Edward?’ She tucked away the mirror and viewed him suspiciously. ‘Shouldn’t you have been in the army?’
‘I had a college deferment. Then I married you.’
‘Your lucky day.’
The minister was waiting for them at the door and accepted Marion’s apology while Edward took the blame. In the parlor the minister arranged Jack and Sally in their places and Edward and Marion in theirs, and suddenly the air became solemn, the surroundings sacrosanct. The ceremony was the short version, which seemed to please Marion. The jewel-encrusted wedding band Jack fitted on Sally’s finger impressed the minister, who in a resonating voice pronounced them man and wife.
Jack gave the bride a tender kiss and Edward followed with one on her cheek. Marion embraced her and kissed Jack on the mouth, so quickly he didn’t have time to react.
At the curbing outside the minister’s house she and Edward waved goodbye to the newlyweds, who were leaving in Jack’s white Impala convertible with red leather upholstery and dual exhausts.
Marion made a face. ‘In that car he must think he’s still a kid. Did you see the gaudy ring he put on her finger? He must’ve paid plenty.’
‘He always does.’
‘You’re his accountant. How much is he worth?’
‘That’s privileged, Marion, but his blue chips include Coca-Cola, Gillette, and Wells Fargo.’
‘Maybe I should’ve married him, not you.’
‘I’m doing all right.’
‘You’re doing fine, sweetheart. And you’ll do even better.’
Destination Logan Airport, Jack drove in the slow lane of Route lA with one hand on the wheel and his free arm round Sally. The roof was raised and the radio was tuned to a music station she had chosen. Her taste ran to rock while his remained loyal to the signature songs of Sinatra.
‘I like him,’ she said. ‘Maybe in time I’ll learn to like him more.’
‘I’ll give you all the time in the world.’
Their honeymoon plans, a Caribbean cruise, mandated a flight to Miami. Jack now had serious second thoughts.
‘What if we went to New York City instead? Would you like that? We can stay at a great hotel and have breakfast in bed. We can catch a musical, see Ethel Merman. Ever see Yankee Stadium? We can do that.’
‘You’ve already paid for the cruise.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Do you like Peggy Lee? We can find out what club she’s singing at and go
there. You look a little like her, did you know that?’
‘With or without my glasses?’
‘Makes no difference.’
‘How do we get there?’
‘We’ll drive.’
‘I can’t keep up with you, Jack.’
He didn’t hear her. He was looking for a way to get off Route 1A, to reach the Massachusetts Turnpike, a map already in his mind. Without thinking, he switched the radio from her station to his and then caught himself.
‘It’s all right,’ she said and listened to Andy Williams crooning ‘Moon River’.
‘Sinatra’s Tiffany,’ Jack said. ‘This guy’s Woolworth’s.’
‘Do you think it will work for us, Jack? I so much want it to.’
‘How can it not?’
‘I’m afraid of your sister-in-law. I saw the way she kissed you.’
‘Marion likes to cause trouble. Don’t worry, Sal. She doesn’t stand a chance.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Under an untroubled sky and bursts of sunlight, they reached the Turnpike sooner than expected. Sinatra was singing ‘Deep in a Dream’. Jack swayed his head. ‘Lovely, lovely,’ he said. The toll plaza loomed. ‘Damn, I’ve got only hundred-dollar bills. You got anything small?’
She picked through her purse. ‘Nickels, that’s all. Jack, what are you doing?’ He sped past a tollbooth without paying.
‘Jack, you shouldn’t have done that!’
Three miles down the Pike a state trooper, with siren shrieking and dome light flashing, caught up to them. The trooper, who was young and wore his visored cap in rigid military fashion, took his time stepping out of the cruiser and much more time ambling to and around the Impala. After giving Sally an insinuating once-over, he said to Jack, ‘Forget something back there, asshole?’
Jack stiffened. ‘What would that be, fuckface?’
The trooper reddened in the instant, drew his revolver and shot Jack in the throat. Then he shot Sally, but she, unlike Jack, lived to testify against him.
PART TWO
Some 90% of the universe is unknown.
Can we not say the same thing about ourselves?
Joseph Shellenbach
On a sunlit pathway in the Common an old man bore his weight on a cane at every other step. Abruptly he stopped, stood straight and lifted the cane like a baton. The Boston Symphony Orchestra appeared full-blown before him, began to play resoundingly and continued even after the old man lowered the cane, opened his trousers and began to wet on the margin of the pathway. The slender dark-haired woman seated on a nearby bench noticed that the man resembled her uncle. Here her dream ended.
‘What do you make of it?’ she asked Dr Wall, whose dense hair capped a large head stuffed with other people’s secrets, including some of hers.
‘You tell me,’ he said, as if all dreams, hers in particular, were self-evident.
‘The obvious, I suppose. All that stuff I told you about. I was only a girl when I came to this country.’
Dr Wall’s large eyes regarded her from shallow sockets. ‘How old are you, Elsa?’
‘You know how old I am. I’ll be thirty soon.’
‘Does that scare you?’
‘Why should it?’
‘You’re not a girl any more. You’re a mature woman, but you may not think like one. That could be a real problem. Is it, Elsa?’
‘I’m paying you to tell me my problem, assuming I have one. Do I?’
‘Since you’re here, I presume you do, but I defer to your judgement. I certainly don’t want to take your money under false pretences.’
She went silent and Dr Wall held his breath, for her visits meant much to him. Finally she said, ‘I’m being unfair to you, aren’t I? Forgive me.’
He let out his breath, visibly relaxed and remembered her first visit to his office. She looked younger than her years and could have been a college girl groping for eternal truths. The fall of her dark hair and the slimness of her figure entranced him. The father of three, he had conceived a fourth with his second wife in his arms and Elsa in his head.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Well, what?’
‘Do you forgive me?’
‘Nothing to forgive.’ He doodled on a yellow notepad while considering his next question. ‘How are you getting along with your aunt?’
‘She’s not my aunt by blood – and I see little of her.’
‘Is that the way you want it?’
‘It pleases us both.’
‘But does that please your uncle?’
‘Money pleases my uncle. I doubt very much my aunt does, though there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.’
‘Does that disturb you?’
‘My life disturbs me, Doctor. That’s why I’m here. You’re supposed to straighten me out.’
Dr Wall drew a small heart, which became a face when he added eyes, a nose and a smile. He had named his youngest child Eloise and had her picture on his desk. He said, ‘Do you feel we’re making progress?’
‘Progress is a buzzword. Everything is buzz in this silly country. A movie actor for a president – you Americans aren’t real.’
‘What does that say about you, Elsa?’
‘I’m not an American.’
‘Your father was.’
‘My father was a bedtime story. Mostly he was made up and now he’s just a rumor.’
‘I remember your telling me you loved him.’
‘Surely I was fantasising. You must’ve seen that.’
Dr Wall doodled an oval into a face, minus the smile.
‘How are you doing, Elsa? Are you in a relationship?’
‘That’s off limits. I no longer discuss that with you, Doctor.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why not?’
‘You’re in love with me. And that makes me nervous.’
He kept his composure, though his hand holding the pencil trembled. ‘And what brought you to that conclusion?’
‘It’s obvious.’
‘Not to me, I’m afraid,’ he said and attempted a patronising smile, which she countered with a thin one.
‘Am I embarrassing you, Doctor? Or should I call you Harvey now?’
‘That wouldn’t be entirely appropriate. Are you trying to embarrass me?’
‘No, Doctor, merely trying to take control of my life. I’ve never actually had it.’
He viewed the wall clock with opposing emotions. Her time with him had ticked away. ‘Same time next week?’
She shrugged. ‘Sure. Why change things now?’
His pencil hand still trembling, he watched her rise from the depth of her chair. Her blouse was blue, her skirt small. When she reached the door, he blurted out, ‘Elsa!’
Surprised, she glanced back at him. ‘What?’
‘It’s true. I am in love with you.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, opening the door, ‘your secret is safe.’
A taxi bore Elsa through Boston traffic to the steel and glass of the office tower where her uncle’s lawyer was a partner in a venerable Yankee firm. He was also a family friend and Marion’s confidant, though not always a trusted one. When Elsa was a girl he was Uncle Bob. Now he was Robert.
Robert, though busy, sent word that he would see her shortly. Waiting in plush surroundings, Elle and Vogue at her elbow, she was served coffee in bone china and scones on a crystal dish, and supplied with a napkin of Irish linen. Distant doors opened and closed. Men in tailored gray came and went. Two senior partners emerged from an elevator and in passing smiled at her. With her legs crossed and her skirt riding up, she felt like a racy magazine among sober volumes.
She had polished off the scones when a chic young woman briskly approached. ‘Your uncle apologises for keeping you waiting. He shouldn’t be much longer.’
‘He’s not my uncle,’ Elsa said. ‘Not any more.’
‘Would you like more scones?’ the young woman asked quickly.
‘No, tha
nk you.’
Twenty minutes later she was shown into Robert’s expansive office of carved mahogany, glints of copper and brass, and paintings of hunting scenes. A figure rising from behind a massive desk was silhouetted against a skyview of glass. A tailored length of manners and charm, Robert glided toward her with what Elsa saw as his ecclesiastical air.
‘I feel like I’m being granted an audience. Do you have a ring for me to kiss?’
‘You haven’t changed, Elsa.’
She smiled into a precise face made more precise by round steel-rimmed glasses. His graying hair had a boyish cut. ‘Nor you, Robert. Had you chosen the church, you’d be a bishop now, at least.’
He chose to ignore that. ‘You look wonderful.’
‘I knew you’d say that.’
‘Then I’m glad I did.’
He guided her to a sitting area, where they sat in opposing wing chairs, she with her hands on her knees, as if she were thirteen again and listening to Robert summarise the legal document that made her real uncle her guardian.
‘What can I do for you, Elsa?’
‘How wealthy am I?’
He smiled. ‘You’re well off, you know that.’
‘How well off?’
‘Your uncle and I would need to sit down to figure it out. What’s the problem, Elsa?’
‘I think Uncle Edward has been stealing from me.’
He inclined his head. ‘I don’t understand.’
She spoke rapidly, the words rehearsed. Investment accounts she’d thought solvent were not, certain stocks had been sold without her knowledge and money her mother had left her was unaccounted for. She appreciated the record settlement Robert had negotiated for her father’s wrongful death, but where had Uncle Edward invested it? Too much was up in the air.
Robert gave her a quiet look of dismay. ‘Your uncle would never cheat you. He moves money around to keep it safe, his and yours. Besides, I look after your interests.’
‘You look after his, not mine.’
‘They’re one and the same. Your uncle has always protected you, seen to your needs, your education. You’ve wanted for nothing.’
‘I think he’s forged my name to documents.’
‘That’s absurd.’
‘I think the two of you are in it together. Or do I mean the three of you?’
Robert sighed heavily. ‘I was wondering when you’d bring Marion into the mix. Can’t you get over that? You’re a big girl now.’