Beverly Byrne (6 page)

"Yes.
Such things have consequences though. You must realize that."

"Luke
seems perfectly healthy to me."

"Oh,
he is of course." Warren changed tack abruptly. "Tommy's coming home
for Thanksgiving, isn't he?"

"I
suppose so. I haven't heard from him lately."

 "I'm
sure he's coming home. Lil told me. This week I think. It will be nice to see
him again."

Amy
agreed and escaped to her own room. The atmosphere in the makeshift greenhouse
had become disturbing.

She
went with Luke to meet Tommy's train. He was reserved, and his limp was
pronounced. "Did you hurt yourself?" Luke inquired anxiously.

"No,
I bloody well didn't! I'm just tired that's all. Had to stand most of the
way." He flung his case into the back of the taxi and sat up front with
the driver so they had no further opportunity to talk.

That
was on Tuesday. Amy didn't see either Luke or Tommy again until Thursday noon
when they arrived at the apartment for Thanksgiving dinner. They seemed barely
on speaking terms, and the conversation during the meal was strained, despite
all Lil's efforts.

Later
Lil played the piano. She had all the latest sheet music, Berlin's
"Araby" and "When I Leave the World Behind," as well as
Amy's favorite Cohan song, "Give My Regards to Broadway." Amy wanted
very  much to dance with Luke. In the past Tommy had always been good-natured
about the things he couldn't do, but he looked surly and black this afternoon.
Luke didn't ask her to dance.

They
were expected at one of the other aunt's for a holiday tea. At the last minute
Tommy refused to go, so they left him behind.

The
tea party was crowded with relatives. Donald Varley was there, and Luke spent a
long time talking to him. Amy was involved in a conversation with the girl who
had recently become engaged. It centered on bridal dresses and honeymoon plans,
and she felt stupid and young and tonguetied.

When
they returned to the apartment Tommy was gone and the decanter of brandy on the
table was almost empty. Luke left right away, without saying when he'd see her
next.

The
next day Amy felt guilty, as if she were to blame for Tommy's bad temper and
the way it had spoiled the holiday. Lil was regretful too. "Why don't you
ring up the boys," she said anxiously. "See if they'd like to come
for supper and help eat the leftover turkey. It's always better the second
day."

Amy
tried the number, but there was no reply. "No one seems to be home,"
she reported. "Not even the maid. Isn't that odd?"

Lil
fumbled with the fichu of lace at her throat. "Not really. I believe Luke
manages with only a weekly cleaning woman now. He's on his own most of the
time, and he has so many of his meals here," she added hastily.

They
didn't mention the boys again. Amy went riding on Saturday afternoon. The rest
of the time she kept to her room and read.

On
Sunday morning Luke arrived alone. Only Amy was home. "Lil and Warren are
at church," she explained. "How come you're not?"

"I
couldn't sleep, so I went early. Lots of maids and bus drivers and people like
that. Quite nice, really."

She
knew that it was customary for all the Westermans to attend the eleven o'clock
high mass at St. Ignatius. Tommy had once described it to her. "Mustering
the forces for a full dress parade," he'd called it. She thought of that
every Sunday when she saw Warren depart in his morning coat and striped
trousers and spats. She had wondered if Luke wore the same formal attire on
those occasions. He certainly wasn't dressed like that this morning. He was
wearing trousers and a sweater. The casual clothes emphasized his long, lean
body.

"Is
Tommy coming here after Mass?" she asked. "I should tell Maureen if
there's going to be extras for lunch. "

"Tommy's
gone back to Washington. He left yesterday."

"But
he didn't even come to say goodbye! Lil and Warren will be hurt."

"I
know. He can be a sod sometimes. And we had a row, which made it worse."

She
felt again that uncomfortable sensation of guilt. "I've never seen you and
Tommy fight seriously."

"This
was a humdinger. Don't look like that. It will blow over. Things are a little
tense just now, that's all. And his leg was hurting, for all he denied
it."

"What
did you fight about?"

Luke
flashed his incomparable sunny smile. Amy had begun to suspect that he used the
smile and his good looks as a way of keeping others at arm's length. "We
disagreed about some suggestions Uncle Donald has made about financial matters.
That's all."

She
moved closer to him. Luke hadn't kissed her since the day in the park three
weeks before, not even a brotherly peck on the forehead. Now she stood on
tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "You mustn't worry about anything," she
said. "And you must never fight with Tommy about me."

"You!
My dear girl, you're getting too big for your boots! Fight about a mere child,
indeed." He laughed at her and tweaked her nose. "Maybe when you grow
up. Certainly not now. Let's have some music."

He
could play almost as well as Lil, and she sat next to him on the piano bench
and turned the pages. Sometimes they broke off and practiced a dance step. Luke
was a superb dancer. He held her masterfully and moved with the same effortless
coordination he displayed on the tennis court.

6

SARAH,
THE  ENGAGED  WESTERMAN COUSIN, WAS launched on a series of prenuptial
festivities. Amy was usually invited. She listened to endless talk of weddings.
Visions of white satin and filmy lace began to fill her mind.

Luke
collected her from a tea party at the home of a relative on Sixty-first Street.
"Shall we walk or take a cab?"

"Let's
walk. It's early yet."

They
strolled up Lexington Avenue in the wintery dusk, past St. Vincent Ferrer's
Church where she had waited for him that summer's day when they came together
to the city. The memory was unspoken, but acknowledged, between them. "I
know you so much better now," she said. "It seems like we were
strangers back then."

"Amy,
listen. I want to tell you something. . . ."

She
couldn't see him clearly in the half-light, but she turned her face
expectantly.

He
stopped walking. "You are a little beauty you know," he said softly.
"You'd thwart the resolve of a saint. "

"I
don't know what you mean."

"No,
I know you don't." He was so much taller that she had to bend her head
back to look into his eyes. He raised his gloved hands and trailed his fingers
along her arched neck. It rose with a grace above the fur collar of her coat.
"I know you don't understand," he said in a whisper. "That's
what makes it so hard."

"You
think I'm a child. I'm not. Girls grow up faster in Africa. Anyway, your cousin
Sarah's not nineteen yet, and she's getting married in February. She said it
had to be then or not until Easter."

"Yes,
Catholics can't get married in Lent."

She
didn't know what Lent was, but to ask would switch the subject from marriage.
"I'm not a child," she repeated. "I'll be eighteen in May."

"Oh,
Amy, precious little girl." He sounded as if he wanted to cry, and she
didn't know what comfort to offer. Then he smiled, and she thought she must
have imagined the incipient tears. "We'd better get moving. Aunt Lil will
think I've kidnapped you."

Lil,
however, was not conscious of the time they'd been out. She was instead pale
and distraught, but offered no explanation. The apartment was heavy with
tension. Warren too was weighed down with it, and Maureen looked baleful while
she served dinner. Amy glanced questioningly at Luke, but he only shrugged his
shoulders in puzzlement.

They
had coffee in the drawing room. Suddenly Lit looked up, as if newly aware of
her nephew.

"Shouldn't
we ask Luke what he thinks, Warren?"

Lil's
hands fluttered at her pearls, twisted an embroidered handkerchief, and finally
spread in a gesture of appeal. Warren said nothing. He'd ignored his sister's
rhetorical questions for so long that he no longer imagined any reply
necessary.

"Luke
must know about such things now that he's working," Lil added. Warren
grunted. Lil took it as assent. Amy saw the way the older woman was readying
herself to explain, and felt fear.

"Warren
wants to buy a summer cottage on Long Island," Lil blurted out. "Of
course, it wouldn't change anything here." This last was spoken with a
look at Maureen's retreating back. The maid carried the coffee tray from the
room with the air of a martyr.

Amy
wanted to giggle, but she repressed her laughter. She'd expected disaster and
it was only this. Instantly she felt herself on Warren's side. "What a
nice idea! Does it have a garden, Uncle Warren?"

It
was the one question guaranteed a response. "Not really, but there's a
nice bit of ground out back."

So
there would be a home for his tenderly nurtured cuttings from Balmoral. That
explained his motive.

"Where
on Long Island?" Luke asked.

"A
little town, just a village, I guess," Lil stammered, "Atlantic
Beach." When Luke looked blank she added, "It's out beyond Far
Rockaway and Lawrence. Isn't that what you said, Warren?"

"Not
beyond," Warren said. "Across from. They're separated by East
Rockaway Inlet."

"There's
no church in Atlantic Beach," Lil said. The words tumbled forth in a rush
that was almost a wail. "And no permanent settlement. We'd never be able
to find servants."

"Maureen
can come with us when we go," Warren said.

Now
Amy understood the cause of the maid's hostility. Customarily Maureen spent
summers with her sister in the Bronx and returned to Manhattan when her
employers did. A new arrangement wouldn't suit her at all, but that couldn't be
Lil's main worry. "How far is the nearest church, Uncle Warren?" Amy
asked.

"There's
one in Far Rockaway. It's no problem."

Lil
shook her head. "But you told me we would have to cross a bridge to get to
the mainland. In bad weather we could be cut off." She looked close to
tears.

Luke
ignored her distress and turned to his uncle. "How much are they
asking?"

Finally
Warren took the initiative. "Not they. He. A builder. He's completed three
houses, and he's working on a fourth. It's going to be a flourishing community
some day. We're getting in on the ground floor."

"How
much?" Luke repeated.

"Two
thousand seven hundred," Warren said.

Luke
looked thoughtful-and something else. Amy thought about it. Masterful. Yes,
that was the word. Her heart gave a funny little thud. She kept watching his
face. He said gravely, "It sounds reasonable. Depending on the house, of
course. Why don't you go take a look at it, Aunt Lil? After that you can make
up your mind."

Amy
saw Warren shift in his chair and open his mouth as if to say something, then
close it again. It was Lil who asked, "Would you come too, Luke? I'd feel
better if you saw it."

Warren
didn't react to the implication that his judgment was unreliable. Amy felt a
twinge of impatience at his placid acceptance of Lit's dominance.

"I'm
rather busy just now," Luke said.

Obviously
Luke didn't want to be in the middle of a feud between his aunt and uncle. Amy
was annoyed with all of them for making such a fuss and at the same time hiding
so much emotion. "We could go on a Sunday," she said. Nobody had
invited her, but she included herself. It would mean a whole day with Luke.

Lil
looked at her gratefully. "Oh, that would be nice! But Saturday, not
Sunday. That way we wouldn't have to worry about Mass. You don't work on Saturday,
do you, Luke?"

"Half 
a day," he said. Both women were watching him and he relented. "I
guess I could take one morning off."

"We'll
bring a picnic lunch," Amy said. "You'll see, it will be fun."

*
**

Despite
his early reluctance, it was Luke who made it fun. He borrowed a big Lincoln
touring car from one of his relatives. There was room for all five of them. Amy
had suggested that they take Maureen, and Lit had seen the wisdom of the idea.
Besides, the maid was useful because they had so much luggage. They were only
going for the day, but Lil believed she was setting forth into the unknown.
She'd brought two hampers of food and an assortment of wraps and galoshes and
blankets-just in case.

The
freak November blizzard had been replaced by an early December thaw. The sky
was deep blue and there were few clouds. The winter-distant sun created an
illusion of warmth. Amy looked over the shiny black hood of the Lincoln at a
city basking in false spring.

Pushcarts
and taxis and bicycles clogged the traffic. Heading east on Fifty-ninth Street
they crossed the path of streetcars jammed with passengers who hung out open
windows and tipped pale faces to the sun. Luke didn't mind driving through the
melee. He began singing, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do . . ."
His rich baritone filled the car and bounced off the elegant red leather
upholstery. Amy joined in. She was very happy.

Then
they crossed the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge and it took her breath away. She
didn't look down. Nothing in nature frightened her; but this feat of
technology, this city-bred phenomenon arcing through space on perilously
slender steel cables, made her dizzy.

"Are
you all right?" Luke reached over and touched her clenched hands.

"Yes,
fine." She spoke in a small whisper, embarrassed lest the others know she
was afraid, and acutely conscious of the light touch of his fingers.

Long
Island City, where the bridge debouched, was grim and ugly. It was an
excrescence belonging in spirit neither to Long Island nor Manhattan. Amy was
glad when they left it behind and moved out into the countryside.

Someone
mentioned being thirsty. Lit glanced at her watch and said that it was time to
stop for a snack. Luke found a spot overlooking a meadow and parked the car.
Maureen rummaged in one of the hampers and produced a Thermos flask of hot
coffee and some bread and butter. Amy took her cup and wandered a short
distance up the road. Nearby two old horses grazed peacefully. She leaned on
the fence and watched them. Luke came up beside her. "They look like
candidates for the glue factory to me."

"Yes.
Old plough horses that have no further use, I expect. Luke, do you think it's a
good idea for Lil and Warren to buy a place out here?"

"I'll
tell you a secret," he confided. His voice was pitched low. "It doesn't
matter what any of us thinks. Uncle Warren's already bought it."

Amy's
eyes opened wide. "But what if Lil hates it after she sees it?"

"I
don't know." He shook his head. "I don't think they've ever had a
serious disagreement. Lil always does what she wants, and Warren goes along.
We've just got to convince her the house is marvelous. Otherwise there's going
to be a devil of a scene."

"She
should like it." Amy said with conviction. "It's beautiful here in
the country. Why do they live in New York anyway?"

Luke
chuckled. "Some people prefer the city, you know. Anyway, Warren only
intends them to live here in the summer."

"Do
you prefer the city?" She searched his deep blue eyes for an answer.
"Would you be unhappy living away from New York?" He couldn't know
how important his answer was to her. She didn't take her eyes from his face.

"I
like New York," he said. "But I don't think where you live is
important, as long as it's where you're meant to be."

"You
mean fate or destiny? Something like that?"

His
smile broadened. "I mean God. And there you go getting that tight look you
get whenever I mention the word."

"You're
teasing me."

"You're
very teasable. I like the way your eyes spark when you get mad." He
reached into his waist-coat pocket and took out his watch. "Almost
eleven," he said. "We'd better go. I think there's still an hour or
more to drive." They'd left the house at seven. Lit really would think she
was traveling to the end of the world.

It
wasn't as warm on Long Island as it had been in New York. Amy buttoned the
jacket of her blue wool suit and nestled more comfortably into the plaid
lap-robe Luke had arranged over her knees. The road cut across brown salt
marshes, thick with reeds and birds. It reminded her of the area north of
Boston. "It's a bit like New England," she said.

"Geologically
Long Island is part of New England," Warren said. He explained, a rather
long speech for him, but the technical terms and references to the long-ago Ice
Age bored Amy. Her mind wandered. Warren lapsed into silence and no one else
spoke. Luke wasn't singing any more. With every mile they put between
themselves and Manhattan the tension increased. Amy could feel it, emanating
from Lil, and being silently but stubbornly ignored by Warren.