Authors: Diane Chamberlain
“Do you have an escape tunnel?” she asked softly.
He was quiet for so long she wondered if he had understood her question.
“I had one,” he said finally, “but it’s getting a bit muddy, a bit impassable, and I don’t seem to have the motivation any more to clear it out.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m being seduced,” he said. “By Valle Rosa. By the water problem. By the challenge. It’s all clouding my judgment and I… Shh.”
He closed his fingers around her wrist again, and she heard the soft, distant yips that had caught his attention. They came from the north. Jeff let go of her to turn on the recorder.
The yipping grew to a high-pitched whine, and then into the familiar, chilling howl that cut across the moonlit canyon. Mia shut her eyes and shivered, closing her arms across her chest. From far behind them, a second howling began, and a third joined in from the east. The sound filled Mia’s head and wrapped itself around her body, and she felt the threat of inexplicable tears. She wanted to touch Jeff, to remind herself that she wasn’t alone, to still the quickening of her heartbeat, but she kept her hands locked tightly over her arms.
It was several minutes before the howling faded away. Jeff clicked off the recorder, but for another moment or two they lay still, not speaking, barely breathing.
“Does it sound like joy or sorrow to you?” he asked finally.
“Sorrow,” she answered quickly.
“Ah,” he said, and she heard a smile in his voice. “Perhaps you and I are not kindred spirits after all.”
BARBARA ROLAND, A HANDSOME
woman in her early fifties, sat across the coffee table from Carmen, balancing her Lenox teacup on her linen-draped lap. They were in her house in Summit, New Jersey. It was a beautiful house, a stunning colonial, well aged but thoroughly renovated. The hardwood floors shimmered where they weren’t concealed by thick oriental carpets; the walls of the high-ceilinged rooms were covered in richly detailed wall paper.
She’d found Barbara’s name after flying to New Jersey, at her own expense—an expense she could ill-afford—and searching through libraries and public records until she came across information on the old “home for unwed mothers” run by the Catholic diocese in Maplewood, New Jersey, outside of New York City. She was able to track down a woman who had been involved in running the home, but who told her flatly she couldn’t provide her with information that was clearly confidential. She did, however, suggest that Carmen get in touch with Barbara Roland, the woman who was now director of a statewide program for pregnant adolescent girls. Carmen saw no point in speaking with someone involved in a program currently in operation, but she had no other leads and so called Barbara Roland, who immediately agreed to see her. As she sat in Barbara’s comfortable living room, she was beginning to understand why.
“It was old Sister Frances you spoke with,” Barbara said, smiling. “And she put you in touch with me for a very good reason. I was one of the girls at the home when Beth Cabrio was there.”
“Oh.” Carmen sat forward, resting her teacup on the glass-topped coffee table and trying to quickly reassess the elegant, silver-haired woman sitting opposite her.
“My past is no secret,” Barbara said. “Everyone knows that the reason I care so much about the girls in my program is that I was once one of them myself.”
“And you knew Beth?” Carmen had already made it clear she wasn’t prepared to divulge the exact nature of the story on which she was working, only that it had something to do with Beth Cabrio’s son.
“Beth and I were best friends,” Barbara said. “She was an inspiration. She’d already had her baby by the time she moved into Saint Mary’s, while most of us were still expecting. A lot of us, myself included, had planned on giving up our babies for adoption and going back to our former lives as though nothing had happened. But Robbie was such a beautiful baby that several of us changed our minds.” Her eyes quickly misted over. “Thank God I never gave up David, my son,” she said. “My husband, Al, is David’s father. We were married when David was a few years old, and we’ll be celebrating our thirty-second anniversary next week.”
Carmen smiled. “Congratulations.” She liked this woman and would have enjoyed hearing more about her clearly unusual life, but it was time to shift the conversation back to Beth Cabrio. “Did you know Steven Blackwell?” she asked.
Barbara laughed. “Was that the name? Steven? I’d forgotten. There
was
no Steven Blackwell. Beth fabricated that name for the birth certificate. To be frank, she didn’t have a clue who the baby’s father was, so she simply picked a name she liked and used it.” Barbara looked thoughtful as she tapped a finger to her lips. “Beth was a reckless sort of girl. Not bad, by any means, but fun-loving and spirited, and she couldn’t leave the boys alone. I don’t think she’d ever gotten enough love at home, if you know what I mean.”
Carmen nodded. She knew.
“She’d even sneak boys into her room at Saint Mary’s, which I assure you was a mortal sin. The nuns were going to ask her to leave, but then she met a man and left on her own with him.” Barbara sighed and stared out the window toward the full weeping willow in the garden. Carmen said nothing. She wasn’t certain what to ask next. She wished she knew more clearly what she was looking for.
“I left the home around the same time,” Barbara continued, “and moved into my brother’s home in Maplewood, but I always kept in touch with Beth. I worried about her and about the baby. She attracted a rough sort of person. She stayed with that first man for no more than a week or so before he threw her and the baby back on the street. Then she’d move from one man’s apartment to another, whoever would take her in. This went on for years. She lived out of a suitcase. As Robbie got a little older, he’d try to treat the men in Beth’s life as if they were his father.” Barbara took a sip of tea and shook her head. “It was pathetic. My heart would break for that little boy, but Beth saw no other way to live. The men used her, one way or another. A few of them abused her physically, and she’d endure it until they’d lay a hand on Robbie. That, she wouldn’t tolerate. Then she’d have to find someone else to live with for a while. I remember one man who treated her fairly well, and she was optimistic that their relationship might turn into something lasting. But then Robbie broke his leg falling out of a tree.” Barbara laughed again. “He had his mother’s wild streak, I’m afraid. The gentleman they were living with couldn’t deal with Robbie’s cast and carting him around everywhere, so he asked them to leave. Life was such a trial for her. Do you know people like that? Life throws one obstacle after another in their face, and they never seem able to get ahead?”
“Yes,” Carmen said, thinking of the struggles of her own youth. She had made different choices than Beth Cabrio, though. Better choices. But she hadn’t had a baby to worry about. Perhaps Beth had done the best she could.
“You and Beth sound very different,” she said. “It seems unlikely that you’d ever be friends.”
“Yes, you’re right. We were nothing alike. Al would say that I always took up for the underdog, but it was much more than that.” Barbara leaned over to straighten a tapestry pillow at the end of the sofa. “Beth was a good friend,” she said, “and a good person. She had no money, but she’d always be there for you. When I was going through all my trials and tribulations with Al, she was right there to listen to me, and believe me I could bend her ear for hours on end.”
Carmen tried to picture the two teenagers commiserating with one another about men and babies and life.
“Beth would listen and give me her—usually terrible—advice.” Barbara chuckled as she leaned over to pour herself more tea from the silver pot on the table. She offered some to Carmen, who declined. “And she’d cry,” Barbara said. “She’d cry because I was in pain. As a friend, she was a real treasure.”
Carmen nodded. “Go on,” she said. “Please tell me more.”
“Well, I married Al when David was three.” Barbara stirred sugar into her tea and sat back on the plush sofa again. “Al never cared for Beth. She was very pretty, but she wore too much makeup, and she simply didn’t look healthy or well kept. She did the best she could with Robbie, though, making certain his vaccinations were up to date, that sort of thing. She loved him very much, but I used to think she treated him more like a playmate than a son. He called her ‘Beth’ instead of ‘Mom.’” Barbara shook her head. “She was still a child herself. I think Al was threatened by her, to be honest. I think he was afraid that Beth would be a bad influence on me, and that I’d start acting as wild as she did.
“I assume that didn’t happen,” Carmen said with a smile.
“No, but I didn’t exactly rub off on her, either.” Barbara looked thoughtful for a moment, and then chuckled again at some recollection. When her expression cleared of the past, she continued. “Once Robbie was old enough to start school, I let Beth use our address so that, no matter who she was living with, Robbie would have one consistent school. As you can well imagine, that little boy had a great deal of trouble academically. His teachers were constantly calling Beth in to meet with them. They’d call my house, and I’d pretend to be Beth and set up a meeting between her and the teacher. Then I’d track Beth down and make certain she kept the appointment.” Barbara shook her head. “It was all rather amazing, in retrospect.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the school thought Robbie was ‘backwards.’ Even in kindergarten, his teacher recommended special remedial classes for him. Beth absolutely refused to hear of it. She was furious when she got the notice telling her they were going to make him repeat kindergarten.”
“Repeat kindergarten?” Carmen was incredulous.
“Yes, indeed. I went up to the school with her—something I vowed never to do again. She made an incredible scene, and Al said it would reflect poorly on David if the principal thought I was friends with her. Anyway, she flew into that principal’s office with a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore. She could be a very… inappropriate person.” Barbara smiled. “She never seemed to understand proper decorum, if you know what I mean.”
Carmen nodded.
“She was wearing a skirt I will never forget. Black suede. Tight as a glove. Her hair, which was a pale, pale blond, was up in a beehive, and she was carrying a lit cigarette. Can you picture this?”
Carmen laughed at the image.
“I remember looking at her and wondering how it was I’d come to be her friend,” Barbara said. “Like you were saying, how could I love her so much when we were so different?” She looked at Carmen, as if for the answer.
“I think you’re the type of woman who doesn’t judge people,” Carmen said, with some admiration.
“I hope so.” Barbara looked into the teacup on her lap. “Well, as I said, Robbie was held back, and even by the time he got into the first grade, he was still failing subjects. Poor little guy. He was one of those children who simply couldn’t sit still, who couldn’t concentrate very long on one thing. I think he was labeled a difficult child from day one, and then no one expected anything from him but trouble.” Barbara set her empty cup on the coffee table. “Ah,” she said, slapping her hands on her thighs, “but then Beth met Jefferson Watts, and everything changed.”
Carmen was struck instantly by the name. “Jefferson?”
“That’s right.” Whoever Jefferson Watts was, it was obvious that Barbara Roland approved of him. “Jefferson was a big, tall handsome man—a black man—with a deep booming voice that you could feel inside your ribcage when he spoke. I remember Beth telling me that the first time she and Robbie went to Jefferson’s apartment, Robbie hid under the bed, he was so afraid of him. Jefferson was much older than Beth. She was about twenty-two then. Jefferson must have been close to forty, and he was quite well-off.” Barbara raised her hands dramatically into the air. “Suddenly, Beth had lovely clothes to wear, and she could buy things for Robbie. She even bought me something—a pair of beautiful silver earrings, which I still own. She started wearing her hair in the natural style that was popular back then—perfectly straight, with long bangs. It was very attractive on her. She was eating regularly, no one was hurting her, and she was finally in love, for real this time, with someone who loved her, too. You could see how much Jefferson cared about her when they were together. It created some problems between Al and myself, since Jefferson was black. It wouldn’t have mattered if Jefferson were president, Al wouldn’t have approved.”
Carmen tried not to frown, although bigotry always touched a deep and tender nerve in her. She had been its victim often enough. She wondered how this marriage between a liberal do-gooder and her narrow-minded husband had survived for thirty-two years.
Barbara poured herself more tea, and this time Carmen accepted some in her own cup.
“After a few months,” Barbara continued, “Beth started using Jefferson’s address for Robbie, and she was then able to move him to a different school. I don’t know whether it was moving him into a school where they didn’t already have their minds made up that he was a problem, or whether it was having Jefferson around, but after only a few weeks, Robbie’s teacher called Beth in for a meeting and told her, ‘Your son is very bright and needs special classes.’ Well! Of course, Beth didn’t argue with her, and Robbie began to do extremely well.”
Carmen felt, oddly, like cheering, but Barbara’s smile faded quickly.
“And then I lost touch with them,” she said.
Carmen was taken by surprise. “Why?” she asked.
“I don’t really know.” Barbara shook her head, a perplexed frown on her face. “Beth was finally genuinely happy. Jefferson treated Robbie like his own son. Even Al was starting to come around. He was talking to Beth about taking the high school equivalency exam and going into accounting. She was sharp with numbers. She came across as a dumb blond, but once you knew her, you could see there was more there. Much more. Al had gotten her some study guides, and he started tutoring her.”
Al immediately redeemed himself in Carmen’s eyes. Maybe he had mellowed over time.