Message from Nam (13 page)

“I don’t think that’s very likely.”

“Why not?”

“Mother …” Paxton wasn’t quite sure what to say to her, but the truth seemed the only solution. “They own the second biggest paper in San Francisco. The
Morning Sun.
They don’t need me for anything. They just like me.”

“They sound common,” her mother said harshly, but in her opinion, all westerners were, including, and perhaps especially, Peter Wilson. Westerners were even worse than Yankees.

“They’re not common.” Paxton felt suddenly hurt by her mother’s lack of warmth for the boy she loved. It was so unlike the warmth she had encountered from the Wilsons. “They’re nice people, Mother. Really.”

“I don’t want you to go back to Berkeley.” The words shot from her mouth like flares, and Paxton sat down heavily in a chair, wishing they didn’t have to go through this.

“I like it there. It’s a wonderful school. I’m doing well. Mother, I’m not going to stay here.”

“You will if I tell you to. You’re nineteen years old, and don’t let that little trust your father left you go to your head. At your age, you are not independent.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Paxton fought to stay calm, and she was far beyond her years in her wisdom. “But I’m not going to stay in Savannah.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m not happy here. I want broader horizons. And when I finish school, I want to go abroad somewhere for a while.” Even Peter understood that.

“You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?” It was a low blow, and one she hadn’t expected.

“Of course not.”

“Yes, you are. It’s written all over you, like a cheap whore. You went to California and turned into a slut. Even your brother and Allison saw the difference.” It was an ugly thing to say and their consensus hurt her.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Paxton stood up, determined not to hear more of the same. “I’m going to bed now, Mother.”

“I want you to think about what I said.”

“About being a whore?” Paxton said coldly, but her mother seemed unaffected.

“About staying here. I want you to think twice before you go back to California.”

“I don’t think I’ll have to,” Paxton said sadly, and walked up the stairs to her bedroom.

She met Peter at the hotel the next day, and she said very little about what had happened. But he knew. He could see it in her face. “She said something, didn’t she? Was she upset?”

“Upset?” Paxton laughed, for the first time sounding bitter. “No, my mother never gets ‘upset.’ Disappointed. She wants me to transfer back to a school here.” Peter looked horrified as he listened, but Paxton quickly kissed him to reassure him. “She says I’m turning into a slut out in California, even my brother and Allison can see it. And it’s
very
distressing to
them.
”

“The bastards … did they …” He was spluttering he was so angry, and she silenced him with a kiss again, too wise for her years, too saddened by what had happened.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be back in Berkeley in four weeks. And I don’t know if I’ll ever come back here. I’m not sure I can. It depresses me too much. They always want to hurt me.”

“Can she cut you off?” Peter asked worriedly, although he would have been more than happy to remedy the situation at a moment’s notice, but Paxton shook her head. She still looked sad, but she also looked older and more independent.

“No, she can’t. My father left me just enough money to go to school and support myself while I do. And after that, I have to work anyway, so it doesn’t really make any difference. She’d probably support me if I wanted to come home and spend the rest of my life at the Junior League, but I don’t, so it’s no loss. It really doesn’t make any difference. I just can’t come back here. Not to live anyway.” She looked certain.

“What about Queenie?” He knew how much she meant to Paxton.

“I’ll come back to see her. I’d have to.” Paxton smiled, but her life was in California with him now. More important, her life was her own, and she knew it. And so did her mother, which was what scared her. She had very little power now over Paxton.

He left the next day, and Paxton hated to see him go. And he hated to leave her among people who didn’t love her. He promised to call her at least every day, more often if he could, and wasn’t in jail, he laughed, as he left her at the airport. He kissed her long and hard and reminded her to think about how much he loved her, and not to let her family upset her.

But they did anyway. Her mother was hostile to her after Peter left, and her brother told her several times, whenever he had the chance, that she owed it to their mother not to go back to California.

“I owe it to myself to make something of myself, George,” she told him bluntly, no longer afraid of him, or impressed by him, despite the fact that he was so much older. He seemed pathetic now, a small-town doctor who was still tied to his mother’s apron strings and was afraid to have a relationship with anyone of any substance. She was sure that her relationship with Peter was more whole and more mature than his was.

“You can make something of yourself here,” George insisted to her one night before she left, when their mother was at her bridge club.

“Bullshit,” she exploded. “Look at you. Look at the people we know. Look at Allison … look at the girls I went to school with.”

“Watch your mouth, Paxton!” He was outraged at the slurs on all of them, but so was she. She had taken too much for too long and she’d had it. “You’ve filled your head with a lot of wild ideas and ugly words, Paxton, and they don’t suit you.”

“Neither does this. This isn’t me. It never was. And it wasn’t Daddy either. He probably just put up with it because he was a nice man and he thought he had to.”

“You don’t know anything about him. You were a child when he died.”

“I know he was a good man with a big heart and I loved him.”

“You don’t know what he did to Mama.” He said it as though he were hiding something terrible from her, and she found that hard to believe about her father.

“What could he possibly have done to her?” She couldn’t imagine anything, but George couldn’t resist hurting her further. It was his final revenge for her independence, the independence he had never had and never would because he was too much like their mother and not enough like their father, unlike Paxton.

“There was a woman with him when he crashed.” “There was?” Paxton looked startled at first and then, slowly, thoughtful. It explained a lot of things. Her mother’s attitude. But it was also easy to understand why he had wanted another woman. She wasn’t really surprised. And in a funny way, she was glad. If he had found someone to love and who had loved him, he deserved it. He didn’t deserve to die for it. But that wasn’t what had killed him. Chance had killed him. Bad luck. His name on a slate, written by a hand in Heaven. “I’m not really surprised,” she said quietly, and he looked disappointed. “Mama was always so cold to him. He probably needed more than she had to give him.”

“What would you know about that at your age?”

“I know what it’s been like being her daughter,” she said openly, and he looked shocked. “And your sister. We’re very different.”

“We certainly are,” he said with angry pride. “We certainly are. And you’d better think twice about what you’re making of yourself in California. Out there with all those drugs and hippies and demonstrations, all those fools wearing their bedsheets and putting flowers in their hair, and demonstrating for the blacks when they’ve never even seen one.”

“Maybe they know more than you do, George. Maybe they care more. And maybe that’s something.”

“You’re a fool.”

“No.” She shook her head as she looked at him. “No. But I would have been if I’d stayed here. Good-bye, George.” She held out a hand to him, but he didn’t take it. He just looked at her and a few minutes later, he left the house, and she didn’t see him again before she left Savannah.

Her good-byes with Queenie were more painful this time, because she had already decided she wouldn’t be back for Christmas that year, although she hadn’t said it to Queenie. But Queenie sensed that she wouldn’t be back for a long time, and she held her close and looked into her eyes sadly. “I love you, girl Take care of yourself.”

“You too. And go to the doctor when you get that cough.” But she seemed older and slower now, even without it. “I love you,” Paxton whispered, and kissed the warm black cheeks and then she left her.

Her mother didn’t take her to the airport this time, nor did George. Her mother said good-bye to her in the front hall, and let her know by her tone that her going back to California was a major disappointment, not because she’d be missed but because she had failed somehow, as a human being, and a Georgian, and as her mother’s daughter, and George’s sister. It was all more than a little exhausting.

“You’re wasting your time out there.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mama. I’m trying my best not to.”

“They said you did a nice job on the paper.” It was the only compliment she could ever remember her mother giving her. “You could have a job working for the society editor one day, if you worked hard.” Paxton didn’t tell her she’d rather die than spend the rest of her life chronicling her friends’ weddings.

“That’s nice. Take care,” she said softly, sorry to leave them, yet relieved, sorry most of all for what they had never been to each other.

“Watch out for that boy. He’s no good.”

“Peter?” It was an odd thing to say about him. He was so warm and so good and so decent that her mother’s words shocked her. What did her mother know that she didn’t?

“It’s written all over him. If you let him, he’ll use you and throw you away. That’s what they all do.” It was a statement about herself more than Paxton, and Paxton was sorry for her. It must have been a great blow to her to discover that her husband had been in the plane with another woman. And he had never regained consciousness again to explain it. George hadn’t said who she was, or if she had survived the accident, but maybe it didn’t matter. And Paxton didn’t want to know any more than he had told her.

“I’ll call when I know my number.” They still had to find a house or an apartment to rent in Berkeley.

Her mother nodded and watched her go. She never reached out to her, or even tried to kiss her. And all the way to the airport in the cab, all Paxton could think about was going back to Berkeley, and Peter. And once she was on the plane on her way back to him, she never had another thought about Savannah.

C
HAPTER
7

B
y sheer luck, it only took them two weeks to find a house, on Piedmont, and it was perfect. There were two bedrooms and a huge living room, a big sunny kitchen, and a lovely garden. And it came as no shock to Gabby finally to discover that she was not going to be sharing the bedroom with Paxton, but sleeping alone, while Paxton and Peter shared the larger of the two bedrooms. She herself had lost her virginity to a handsome young Frenchman on the Riviera that year, and she now considered herself a woman of the world, and it excited her no end to discover that her brother and her best friend had been having an affair for months and she didn’t know it. But Peter was less amused by her attitude about their affair, and he assured her that if she told anyone, compromised Paxxie in any way, or let their parents know that she wasn’t sharing the room with her and he was, she would bitterly regret it.

But the arrangement worked beautifully. The Wilsons came over to visit them, and the girls cooked dintier for them. And the threesome got along to perfection. The two lovebirds got along perfectly, and Paxton and Gabby were as close as ever. The only difficulty was that Gabby seemed to have a new man in her life every week, and it was difficult for Peter to restrain himself and consider himself merely her roommate, and not her older brother. But Paxton reminded him constantly that he couldn’t take advantage of the situation. But it was a constant strain on him to keep his mouth shut.

The other strain on him was the amount of work he had to do to keep his grades up during his second year of law school. There was a staggering amount of work, and Paxton had taken on a heavy workload, too, so they seemed to spend most of their time studying or in the library, or in bed, and very little out playing. Paxton was doing a little volunteer work in her spare time, and writing an occasional piece for the university paper as well, and she got a real thrill out of it whenever she saw her byline. It was an idyllic life for them, and they had never been happier.

They were deeply involved with school most of the time. And in mid-October, Peter burned his draft card with Paxton’s full approval. At the same time in Viet Nam, B-52 bombers were being called in to support the ground troops, and the air cavalry became a major factor in fighting the Viet Cong, bringing choppers right into the jungle in the heat of the battle. The war had begun to escalate to unknown heights and it frightened Paxton thinking of what was going on there. But when they talked to Peter’s father about it, he insisted that what was needed was more bombs, more men, and a tougher stance against the North. And all Paxton and Peter wanted was to see the United States get out completely. But it was impossible to convince his father of the wisdom of their position.