Authors: Belva Plain
“It was awful. I’ll miss Dad terribly. Three thousand miles apart, but I always knew he was there for me. The rest of the nastiness that went on after he died, all the stuff I’ve told you about, is nothing, really. Not in the sum total of life.”
“Not all that money?”
Eve shook her head. “It would have cost years, and disrupted you and me. People never retrieve the years they throw away.”
Tom took her two hands and leaned forward on the bench to kiss her. When the long kiss ended, he whispered, “I don’t want to waste minutes, let alone years. I wish there were two rooms with one bed up there instead of one room with two beds.”
“Don’t be silly. The Dodges wouldn’t allow you to stay all night, or even to go upstairs in the first place.”
“So what are we going to do? Go to my place every night?”
“Impossible. She’ll only take care of Jane while I’m in school. There’s no nighttime child care in the arrangement.”
Tom groaned. “My fault. What a dunce! I should have thought of that.”
“We’ll have to wait for weekends.”
“The week will be very, very long.”
“But the end will be worth waiting for.”
And of course, it was. As a host, Tom had outdone himself; he had bought a sandbox with pails and shovels, beach balls and water wings so that Jane might swim in the shallow cove around the bend. On their first day they ate a picnic lunch on the sand. The dog went swimming with Jane, and Tom took their picture to send to Lore.
“I feel like a father,” Tom said, and laughed, “sending a picture of my child to my third cousins.”
“I miss Lore,” Jane said.
“But you’re having a good time here,” Eve protested.
“But I love Lore. I love Tom, too.”
“You do? Why?” Tom asked.
“Because you bought me the sandbox and the candy.”
“Little devil,” he said. “You’re cute, do you know it?”
They lay in the shade of the beach grapes, watching the child and the dog. There was no other life in their cove except for the eternal gulls, swerving over the water. Eve was suffused with a sense of freedom, an odd, new, happy sense that she had never before experienced in just that way.
She tried to describe it, although it was not easy. “It’s many things, being with you, being here in all this peace. There’s a freshness in the air here, as if the future will be all different and unencumbered. Do
you understand what I mean? And there’s something else. In Ivy, everybody I ever knew had heard the family story.” She hesitated. “You see how I still hesitate? And people who didn’t know the story soon learned about it from those who did know it. It was always a monkey on my back. Perhaps here I can throw it off for good. Do you think I can?”
“Darling Eve,” Tom said, “I don’t know.”
That night after Jane had been put to sleep, they closed their door. They had been starving for each other. It was as if years instead of weeks had passed. When they were satisfied, they lay still, slept, awoke, and turned to each other again. Tom’s arms were around Eve when the door banged against the wall.
“What’s that noise outside?” Jane cried. “I want my daddy. Somebody took my daddy away, and I need him.”
Eve got out of bed and opened her arms. “Come here, honey. The noise is only a little thunder. Don’t be sad now. Daddy wouldn’t want you to be sad or scared.”
“I don’t care. I want Daddy.”
“Good Lord,” Tom groaned, as Peter, in a running jump, landed on his stomach. “Midnight visitors.”
“I’ll stay in the other room with her for a while. Come, Jane, back to bed. I’ll cover you up and we’ll talk a little. Then we’ll all go to sleep.”
“I want to sleep in here with Peter.”
“You can’t. This is Tom’s bed.”
“But you were in it.”
“Oh, dear,” Eve sighed.
“ ‘Oh, dear’ is right. Jane,” Tom said, “go back to bed. You’re too old to behave like this.”
“No. I don’t want to. I’m not too old.”
“Good Lord,” he groaned again. “A little pampered, wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I wouldn’t. ‘Troubled’ is a better description right now.”
“Okay, okay, you handle it.”
“Come, Jane. Peter, come, too.”
On top of the covers, Eve lay alongside Jane with Peter on the other side.
“Daddy is thinking of you,” she whispered. “He knows you’re with me and Peter. Lore’s thinking of you, too. We’ll call Lore up tomorrow, and you’ll tell her about Mrs. Dodge, and the twins, and the beach, and everything. Listen to the waves. Isn’t that a pretty sound? Like whispers, like music. The thunder’s gone away. Listen …”
Tom was awake when, shivering in the night breeze, Eve returned. She saw that he was cross.
“Remind me tomorrow to get a latch for our door. It would have been awful if she had come in a few minutes earlier than she did.”
Lying back on the pillow, Eve began to feel a vague anxiety. Then she scolded herself: I do tend to be a worrier. Lore always reminds me that, after every exam, I’m sure I did poorly; when I get a bad spot on a dress, I’m sure that the dress is ruined. Still …
it was a lovely day, no doubt about it. But we spent it taking care of Jane. Of course, being so close to the water, we had to be vigilant. But back in town, we’d be careful, too, about other things. There was no end to child care.
“
SHE
’
S
a nice little girl,” Mrs. Dodge reported, “feisty and sweet.”
Feisty
. That had been Dad’s very word for Jane.
“When the boys get rough with her, she holds her own. A lot of girls don’t, but she wades right in and protects herself. She never starts a fight, though. My daughter-in-law says the same when they play over at her house. The only time Jane got upset about anything was when my son came home and the boys all ran to him calling for Daddy. So they brought her back here, and I had to quiet her down.”
“Jane’s had a hard time,” Eve said, remembering Vicky’s harsh voice. “I’m very grateful to you, Mrs. Dodge. I stay away all day with an easy mind because of you.”
“How’s the work going?”
“Fine. It’s just make-up work, really, to fulfill the requirements so I can get my diploma.”
“And after that, the real world. What kind of a job are you looking for?”
The real world
. Where was it to be? The jungles of Guatemala? With Jane? Jane, with Joel’s curly hair and a timid core beneath the bold smile; surely there
is much of our mother in her, too, much that is yet to unfold, still hidden now like the tight bud in the sheath. But what am I to do with her?
She had not answered the other woman’s natural question, and she said quickly, “I’m not quite sure yet. It’s a big decision.”
“Oh, yes, that it is.”
“I was wondering, Mrs. Dodge, whether you would be willing to watch her some nights? They have concerts on the campus, you know, and there was a movie—” She faltered. Actually, Tom had complained very mildly, it was true, that they were missing some worthwhile events, and surely people needed to get out together now and then.
“I’m afraid not, dear. We’re not young people, and I’m pretty tired by nightfall. Mr. Dodge likes me to sit with him while we watch TV.”
The next day, on her way to the library, Eve saw Tom approaching from the opposite direction. The campus was so huge that a chance encounter was rare. How haphazard was the world! Things—leaves birds, people—all whirl and collide at random. So it had happened that on a day, in a moment, he had seen her sitting under a tree. If he had been walking on the other side of the lawn, what then?
But here he came; he had a calm, easy stride, and his face was tilted upward, as if to feel the sunshine. His mouth had its familiar touch of humor.
“Well, well,” he said. “A good thing I took that
picture of you, or I might forget what you look like. It’s been a long time since Sunday.”
“I haven’t changed. It’s only Wednesday.”
“Only? Have you asked Mrs. Dodge?”
“She can’t do it.”
“Damn.”
“I’m sorry, too, very, but what can I do?”
He threw his palms up.
“Look, Tom. You go by yourself. Jazz concerts like this one don’t come here every day. You go. I don’t mind.”
“Great fun, going alone.”
“No, but even married couples have to do it sometimes. I remember my mother going to things without Dad, and him without her.”
“Speaking of married couples, I’ll bet you can’t guess what I just heard. There’s a rumor about us. Some bright guy said Jane is our kid that we’ve kept hidden.”
“Is that ever stupid! But I suppose wherever we go with her, there’ll always be some idiot who’ll think something.”
Did she imagine that the flicker of humor on Tom’s mouth had died away?
“I want you to hear that music tomorrow night,” she said brightly. “Honestly. It’s no big deal. Go and tell me about it. If there’s a record, buy one.”
“All right. All right, I will.”
They stood looking at each other. There were unspoken words between them.
“I can’t even phone you,” he said.
“I know.”
“It’s absurd that there’s no phone in your room.” Tom looked at his watch. “I’m due in Room 309 in five minutes.”
She nodded. “See you Friday. My last class is out at four.”
“I’ll pick you up here, and then we’ll get Jane.”
He walked away. She watched him reach the corner of the building, stop, and come back.
“I can’t imagine living without you,” he said almost roughly, turned around, and this time did not come back.
In the library, Eve sat with an unopened text before her.
Wherever we go with her
, she had said. The careless phrase, repeated, was suddenly not so careless. For where, indeed, were they going? And, clearly, she saw that to have traveled across the continent without any definite plan had been foolish and irresponsible. She had simply assumed that because Tom was here, everything would be simple. And now it was not.
Distraught, she had fled her home, and in bliss she had arrived here into his arms. They had made love, but no decisions. Tom had, as yet, said nothing about any plans. It worried her that they were not yet married. Admit, Eve, that you would never have done, without marriage, what you are doing if you had been nearer to home. Imagine if Dad had known!
Imagine if Lore were to know! She is like her mother, they would say, making the same mistake.
Yes, she must speak seriously. On Saturday night at the beach house while Jane slept, she would ask Tom what they were going to do. There were only a few weeks left of the summer session. It was time.
But shouldn’t it be the man who does the asking? Logical or not, a woman wanted to be sought.
O
N
Saturday they went out on a fishing boat. Tom owned quality gear; deep sea fishing was one of his enthusiasms, and Eve had made trips with him before. She took no pleasure from dragging out of the water a pathetic, live creature struggling for its life, but she was no pious overseer of other people’s tastes, and she went along. Her eyes were always turned away toward the outer rim, where the sky met the ocean. Tom knew her feelings. They understood each other’s feelings.
Today, however, he had not quite understood. “You’ll be out for hours,” she had explained, “and I don’t see how Jane can fit in. I’ve never seen anyone bring a child along.”
“Well, maybe other people have a place to leave the child.”
Had she imagined again that his answer had been unnecessarily short? Anyway, here they were, Eve and Jane, alone in the cabin.
At first Jane had been fascinated by the embarcation,
the ropes, the engine room, and the people climbing onboard with their cameras, slickers, and baskets of lunch. The men and the women—very few women—had spoken the usual pleasantries to her, no doubt wondering why she had been brought on this outing.
“Look at her, isn’t she adorable in the poke bonnet?”
“It’s the only thing I could find to keep the sun off her face,” Eve explained.
“Cute. Looks like my granddaughter,” one man said.
“I’ll bet you’ll catch the biggest fish in the ocean today, little lady.”
The pleasantries over, the boat had sputtered into motion and lurched its way out to sea, gathering speed and climbing the waves, dropping like a plunger elevator and climbing again. Now the windows were washed with spray, so there was nothing at all to see.
“I want to go outside,” Jane said.
On deck, the wind was powerful enough to carry a light person overboard and to stop a heavy person’s breath. Eve clutched Jane’s hand.
“Great, isn’t it?” Tom called from an eagle’s eyrie above them.
She did not think it was great. She thought that a storm was coming up. “Too rough,” she called back, but the wind must have carried her words away, for he did not reply.
“I want to go in,” Jane said. “It’s too cold.”
No doubt it was far too cold for her. Eve should have let Tom go alone. But he had already gone alone to the concert this week.
Tom called again. “What? Going inside?”
“It’s cold.”
“You’re losing all the benefit of the day.”
“Can’t help it. Anyway, the wind’s so high I can hardly hear you.”
“I’d like to bottle this pure air and take it home.”
Didn’t he know that she would happily have faced the weather on top with him, but that she had Jane to consider? Smiling, she waved to him, calling, “See you below,” and went below.
“Let’s read,” she said. “I’ve brought three Babar books. Which one shall we start with?”
They were charming books; even in translation, the writing was original and vivid. There was a cozy pleasure in reading aloud with Jane’s head resting so comfortably against her, and a surprising pleasure in the child’s bright attention.
“I think Babar is very nice to the old lady.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because he’s an elephant, and he could squash her if he sat on her, but he doesn’t.”
She is so little, so alone, and too innocent to know how alone she is, except for me and for Lore. But really, for me.
The boat rocked and pitched. From side to side it flung a package, probably a lunch that someone had
left under a seat. Up and down it seesawed, flashing now and then a forward glimpse of the tilting horizon.