Meg at Sixteen (6 page)

“Perhaps not to you,” Nick replied. “But when we spoke about you last night, it was obvious how deep her affection and gratitude run.”

“Am I to believe then that after you professed your undying love, the two of you sat around and discussed me?” Aunt Grace asked.

Nick laughed. “You came up in conversation,” he said. “I admit you weren't our primary focus.”

And then the strangest thing happened. Aunt Grace laughed also. Meg pressed hard against the wall to keep herself from falling.

“You have a certain charm,” Aunt Grace declared. “A dangerous attribute, but an appealing one. What else do you have to offer my niece?”

“I respect her, if that's what you mean,” Nick said. “Her purity isn't at risk.”

“That's a pretty speech,” Aunt Grace said. “But I meant more mundane things. Family. Social position. Who exactly are you? I'd never seen you before last night. Your family cannot possibly come from Boston.”

“We don't,” Nick said. “My parents, as I mentioned before, are dead. I'm a sophomore at Princeton, or I will be in September. I met Robert Sinclair there, and his parents were kind enough to invite me to their home for the summer.”

“You have no family of your own?” Aunt Grace asked.

“My father died during the war,” Nick said. “On D-day. My mother's family came from the South, but she'd moved to the Midwest to live with my father, and after his death, she chose to stay there. She remarried after the war, but my stepfather and I never got along, and following my mother's death, I moved out of his home. Mr. Wilson, a teacher at my high school, took me in. He was a very kind man, and I owe him a great deal. I stayed with him until I graduated high school. It worked out well for both of us, actually. He developed cancer, and I was able to help him during his final months. I don't know if you know anything about cancer, Miss Winslow, and what it does to you, but it's a disease best faced not alone. Mr. Wilson had no family, so he left me his estate. I sold the house, and I'm using that money to pay for my college education. It's not a glamorous story, but it's the truth, and it's what got me here. The Sinclairs find me perfectly respectable. My grades at Princeton are A's, except for one B I got in philosophy. Frankly, I should have gotten an A in that as well, but I didn't put enough effort into my term paper. I love your niece. I must, or else I never would have bothered to come here today. Do I have your permission to see her again?”

“You are a good-looking boy,” Grace said. “And I liked your little speech, especially the part about your philosophy grade. But you still haven't told me a thing about your family, except that they're all dead. You have no grandparents, no aunts or uncles? You come from nowhere?”

“I come from Iowa,” Nick said. “My mother's family came from South Carolina. My mother was an only child. Her father was a banker, but he died when I was five, and my grandmother died shortly thereafter. My mother had cousins there, but except for my mother's funeral, I haven't had any contact with them. My father had a brother, but he died in the war as well. He was a young man, unmarried. My father's mother was devastated by the loss of her only two sons, and she died near the end of the war. My father's father had owned a small factory, but with no sons to run it, the factory was sold. Since he didn't approve of my mother's remarriage, he left both of us out of his will, and his estate, when he passed away, went to some cousins of his. They felt a certain amount of guilt about the hand that had been dealt me. Not enough to do anything about it, mind you. Just enough so they chose to cut off all connections with me. I am not besieged by family. My roots are respectable, but I'm alone in this world. Or at least I was until yesterday.”

“I shall have to check all this out,” Aunt Grace said. “I can hardly trust a stranger with my niece, especially one who admits to being without family or money.”

“I have money enough to get through school,” Nick said. “Money enough to buy you flowers. And I had family. You can hardly hold it against me if my parents died. You don't hold it against Margaret.”

“Margaret has family,” Aunt Grace said. “But it is true, she has no money. If you've come digging for gold, I suggest you locate a more prosperous young lady.”

“She's only sixteen,” Nick said. “If I were digging for gold, I'd find someone a bit older. I'm not a fool, Miss Winslow.”

“No,” Aunt Grace said. “I can see that.”

“Then may I have your permission to take Margaret for a walk this morning?” he asked. “We'll stay on your grounds, if you would feel more comfortable that way.”

“I would indeed,” Aunt Grace replied. “Very well. Have your walk. Perhaps once the two of you look at each other without moonlight this foolish infatuation will end.”

“Thank you,” Nick said. He rose from his chair, paused for a moment, then nodded farewell to Grace. Meg slipped out of the room behind him. They walked out of the house quietly, and with dignity, and it wasn't until they had reached a safe distance on the beach that they whooped and hollered and hugged each other with abandon.

“Kiss me,” Nick said, and Meg did, not caring if Aunt Grace and her legion of servants were all watching with binoculars from the back windows. “I didn't think I could survive that,” he said. “All that time with you in the room, and not being able to touch you, to hold you.”

“I wanted to sit by your side,” Meg said. “But I knew how angry that would make her.”

“She was angry enough,” Nick said. “And she'll be angry again soon.” He stood for a moment, then he pressed Meg to him, and they kissed again. But then he backed off.

Meg looked at him. “What's the matter?” she asked. She knew she had no experience kissing, and undoubtedly Nick could write a book on the subject, he was so good-looking, but everything had felt right to her.

Nick smiled, and it was his smile again. “Nothing's the matter,” he replied. “Well, everything is, but except for that, nothing. It's just I want you so much, and the one honest thing I said to your aunt was that I respected your purity.”

“The hell with my purity,” Meg said, dazzled by her own daring.

“No,” Nick said. “Besides, there's a lot I have to say to you, and we don't have much time. Walk with me, the way I told your aunt we would.”

“Kiss me first,” Meg demanded, and she was pleased with how quickly Nick acceded.

“I love you, Daisy,” Nick said. “I thought you were beautiful last night in that ridiculous dress, but now that I see you in daylight …” He paused long enough to kiss her one more time. “Do you still love me?”

“Do you doubt it?” Meg asked.

Nick shook his head. “I just can't get over it,” he said. “How perfect you are.”

“Me?” Meg said. “I'm not perfect. I mumble and I stoop and I'm not nearly as grateful as I should be. And I really don't have any money. Just a little trust fund.”

“That's more than I have,” Nick said. “It's more than we'll need. Maybe I wouldn't have fallen in love if you did have money. Did you ever think of that?”

“I haven't had a chance to think of anything,” Meg replied. “Except how much I wanted you to be real.”

“I'm real,” Nick said. “But Daisy, listen to me. I just told your aunt a packful of lies. And she's bound to find out, starting with a phone call to Mrs. Sinclair. I am persona non grata there right now. As a matter of fact, I was kicked out first thing this morning. Before breakfast. If your aunt's called already, and she probably has, she must know that.”

“Where are you staying?” Meg asked.

“I found a room at an inn for a day or two,” Nick said. “When I get a chance, I'll find a boardinghouse to stay in for the rest of the summer. I'm not leaving you, Daisy. I have enough money, if I'm careful with it, to make it through until graduation. Free room and board was a blessing, but it wasn't a requirement. I just have to be careful, that's all.”

“I wish I could give you some money,” Meg said. “It's my fault, after all, that the Sinclairs kicked you out. I can give you the check Uncle Marcus sent me for my birthday. Would that help?”

“Oh Daisy,” Nick said, and he kissed her again. Meg wasn't sure whether that meant yes or no, but she knew she didn't care. “Forget your money,” he said. “Whatever you do, you must never give me any of your money. We're doomed if you do.”

Meg nodded. “But if you won't take my money or my purity, what do I have to give you?” she asked.

“Your love,” he said. “Your trust. Although you may withdraw that as well.”

“I trust you,” Meg said, and she was surprised by the voice she said it with. It wasn't her usual scared-little-girl voice. There was a woman's trust behind those words, a woman's strength as well.

“How much truth can you take?” Nick asked her. “Don't lie to me, Daisy. There's a lot, and it's ugly, and I'll tell you only as much as you want to know.”

“I want to know everything,” Meg replied, and again, it wasn't a schoolgirl speaking. “I love you, Nicky, and you're a part of me. There's nothing you can tell me I can't understand.”

Nick shook his head. “I want to believe you,” he said.

“If I can trust you, you can trust me,” Meg declared. She squeezed his hand with hers and hoped that some of her faith in him came through.

“You have to forget everything I said to your aunt,” Nick declared. “All those pretty lies.”

“You didn't lie about your feelings,” Meg said. “What else matters?”

“A lot else,” Nick replied. “Especially to your aunt. Let's see. Out of all that romantic gobbledygook, the only truth was that my mother's dead. Oh, and that my stepfather and I don't get along. But you already knew that.”

“There must have been some truth,” Meg said. “You couldn't have made it all up.”

“I did, pretty much,” Nick said. “It's the story I tell everybody at Princeton. No one there ever bothered to check it out, but your aunt will, and she'll find out a lot of ugly things about me, and she'll make a big point of telling you. I want you to hear it from me first. Maybe it'll hurt you less that way.”

“I love you, Nicholas George Sebastian,” Meg said. “Now tell me all your ugly truths.”

Nick laughed, and it was that harsh, humorless laugh that Meg dreaded. “For starters, that wasn't the name I was born with,” he declared. “I had it changed legally before I started Princeton.”

“What was your name then?” Meg asked. She marveled that none of this concerned her. The only thing she wanted was to alleviate Nick's pain.

“George Nicholas Keefer,” Nick said. “Nobody ever called me George, though. I was always Nick.”

“Why did you change it?” Meg asked. “Not that you look like a George Keefer.”

“Tell me you love me,” Nick said. “I need to hear it again.”

“I love you, Nicky,” Meg said. “No matter what your name is. No matter who you really are. I love you.”

“I changed my name because I hated George Keefer,” Nick said. “I hated who he was, what he'd been through. I figured a new name, a new life, new chances. I was right about that too. Nick Sebastian gets treated differently than George Keefer.”

“Is that all?” Meg asked. “Is that your full confession?”

Nick looked out toward the ocean. It was a foggy, gray morning and visibility was poor. Meg wondered what he was staring at, why he could no longer face her.

“Family means everything to your aunt,” he said.

“My aunt's a fool,” Meg replied. She wanted to laugh with the knowledge.

“I wish she were,” Nick declared. “Things would be so much easier if she were. But family is important. Take it from someone who doesn't have any.”

“I don't have any either,” Meg said.

Nick shook his head. “You don't understand,” he replied. “It's my fault. I'm doing this badly. It's just I'm going to tell you things I've never told anybody before, and it frightens me. But you have to be honest. If what I say disgusts you, if it makes you love me the less, or not at all, then be honest about it. I can live with pain. I have experience.”

Meg wanted to reassure him, but she knew that wasn't what he needed. “Tell me,” she said instead. “I can't know how I'll feel until you do.”

Nick continued to look away from her. “I'm illegitimate,” he said. “My birth certificate says ‘father unknown.'”

Meg tried to understand what that meant, not just to the world, but to Nick. She wanted to ask if it was true, was his father unknown, but she didn't dare.

“I think that's the worst of it,” Nick said. “To me it is, anyway. Are you still there, Daisy?”

“Oh yes,” Meg replied. “I'm still here.”

“It's a lie, the part about him being unknown,” Nick said. “Not my lie, though. My mother knew who my father was. He was her boss. She was a secretary, and it was her first job, she was younger than I am, and I don't know, he seduced her. Maybe he raped her. I wouldn't put it past him. Anyway, however the courtship took place, she ended up pregnant, and naturally he didn't want to have anything to do with her after that. Your aunt talks so much about family, about social position. My father had plenty of both, and he wasn't about to see them jeopardized by the arrival of a little bastard. So he paid my mother off. But part of the bargain was she had to put ‘father unknown' on the birth certificate. He wasn't taking any chances.”

“Oh Nicky,” Meg said. She reached out for him, but he refused her offer of comfort.

“My mother had me, and she kept me for as long as the money held out,” Nick continued. “Then she put me in a home for a while, and then she took me out, and relatives took care of me. I bounced around a lot when I was little. None of it was fun. I loved my mother, though, just because she was my mother. Whenever I'd see her, I thought that meant she was taking me to live with her. I really wanted a home. I know you understand that.”