Prospect Street (13 page)

With a heavy heart she looked through her purse for her ad
dress book and found the number. She punched it in and waited. She was greeted by an earsplitting buzz. The second time she connected.

The voice that answered wasn't David's. The pitch was higher, a shade more nasal. She knew she was talking to the man who had seduced her husband out of the closet.

“I'd like to speak to David Bronson, please.” Faith didn't identify herself.

“I'm sorry, he's not in right now. May I take a message?”

She considered hanging up. That sort of display went against everything she'd been taught. Of course, this whole situation did. No one had ever taught her how to communicate with the man who was her husband's lover.

“Still there?” Ham said.

She attempted to sound businesslike. “This is Faith Bronson. I called to tell David Remy's missing. She's only been gone a little while, but I knew he'd want to know.”

“Missing?” Ham's voice rose a key.

She didn't want to explain the situation to him. He wasn't part of their family, no matter how David viewed him. “Please, just tell David to call me when he gets back. By then she might be home.”

“I'll track him down.”

“No, you don't have to do that. It's not an emergency. She—”

“Faith, please. David's her father. He'll want to know right away.”

She didn't know when she and Ham had ascended to a first-name basis, but she didn't like it. She wanted to tell him to call her Mrs. Bronson, but that name no longer seemed to belong to her.

“Do whatever you like,” she said after a long pause. “He can call me on the cell phone.”

“I know this is no consolation, but I'm sorry to be part of your pain, Faith. I hope someday we can be friends.”

A million sarcastic replies occurred to her. She took the po
litest route and simply hung up. She closed her eyes, the phone cradled against her chest. When it rang, she viewed the buttons through a mist.

Static crackled, but through the interference she heard Alex on the other end. Remy was home.

F
aith, who had just heard a string of excuses from her daughter, was attempting to sound calm, even though she had enough adrenaline washing through her system to fuel a filibuster.

“You just walked around? That's all? You didn't think I would be worried when I discovered you weren't here?”

Remy glanced down at her fingernails. “I didn't think you'd go ballistic. What's the big deal? You're making me live here. I might as well see what Georgetown looks like.”

“You're fourteen, not forty. And even if you were older, I'd still expect you to keep me in the loop. That's what people who live together do.”

Remy looked up. “Oh? You're saying Dad kept
you
in the loop? You knew where he was every minute? Not!”

“Go to your room, please. Plan to stay.”

“Wow, I don't have to listen to your lame lectures anymore. Real punishment.” Remy ran up the stairs, and her door slammed loud enough to rock a less sturdy house.

“You're putting up with too much from that child,” said Lydia, who had witnessed the entire scene. Wisely, Marley had disappeared into Alex's room to keep him out of the furor.

Faith sank to the sofa and put her head in trembling hands. “How would you know?”

“What?”

“I said how would you know? You don't have any experience with this kind of behavior, Mother. I did whatever I was told. Right now I wouldn't say the results are something I want to pass on to Remy.”

Lydia dropped down beside her. “Are you somehow blaming your daughter's abysmal behavior on me?”

“I don't like the way she's acting. Do you think I do?”

“Of course not, but—”

“But I will
not
tell my daughter she has to keep every little thought and feeling inside her out of respect for God, country and apple pie. That's the way you raised me, and I will not repeat your mistakes.”

Lydia's nostrils flared in anger. “I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt so abused.”

“I felt like I couldn't say a word. I still do.”

“Well, you're doing a fine job of saying a few right now.”

“How did this get to be about you and me? As if I don't have enough going on?”

Faith felt her mother's narrowed gaze all the way to her toes, but she refused to apologize.

“Did you really feel like you had to be perfect?” Lydia asked at last.

“Think about it. I was the daughter of a man who campaigned for family values before anyone even knew what that meant.
I
was the one who wasn't stolen from her crib. I had to be good enough for both Hope and me.”

Lydia sat back and stared at the opposite wall. “Maybe you wish Hope hadn't been kidnapped so somebody else could share the burden of being my daughter.”

“No, I wish Hope hadn't been kidnapped so you wouldn't be so distant.”

“Distant?”

“This isn't getting us anywhere.”

“I was distant?”

“You
are
distant. Don't pretend you don't know it, either. You don't want to be any closer than you have to.”

“I don't know how you survived such an intolerable childhood.”

“Mother, what would you have done if I'd behaved the way Remy did this afternoon?” Lydia was silent. Faith suspected she really didn't know. Faith lowered her voice. “I'm feeling my way with Remy. I know I'm putting up with a lot, but I feel so bad for both kids. Remy's a mess, and Alex is trying to take David's place in the family. But he's not even twelve. He shouldn't be worried about me. Worrying is my job.”

“Well, even from my extreme distance, I can see you're underestimating Alex.”

Faith supposed that one silver lining to her current situation was that Lydia was trying to be helpful. For once there was more to her mother's advice than simply saying the expected. And maybe both of them were saying things that should have been said years ago.

Lydia continued. “As for your daughter, maybe she does need to get a few things off her chest. That's to be expected, I suppose. But that's no reason for letting her talk to you that way. It shows a lack of respect.”

“I'm not worried about respect right now. Deep down she—”

“I'm not talking about Remy. I'm talking about you, Faith. Self-respect. You've shown a mountain of it since you found out about David. But not with your daughter.”

Faith was still too shaken by Remy's disappearance to have a handle on anything. So she wasn't quite sure, but she thought that maybe, just maybe, hidden in Lydia's criticism was something close to a compliment.

She told her something she hadn't intended to. “I called David to tell him Remy was missing. I got Ham instead.”

“Lovely. Did you tell him how much fabric softener David likes in his jockey shorts?”

Faith couldn't help herself. She started to laugh.

Lydia actually smiled. “I can be wicked. You don't know me half as well as you think.”

Faith put her hand on her mother's. “Not because I didn't try.”

Lydia didn't return the squeeze, but she didn't withdraw her hand, either. “I was friends with my mother. You and Remy will be friends again one day.” Unspoken was the third side of that triangle.
Maybe the two of us will be friends one day, too.

Faith knew they'd gone as far as they could. “Ham said he was going to track David down. He gave me a little lecture about David being Remy's father. As if I didn't know.”

“Well, at least we'll be spared that visit now that she's back home.”

Like a cue in a Neil Simon play, a knock sounded on the front door. “You did call him back, didn't you?” Lydia said.

“I got his voice mail. Ham was probably on the phone trying to find him.” Faith stood. “I hope he got my message.”

She peeked outside and knew David hadn't. She opened the door and stood stiffly in front of him, blocking his entrance. “You should have checked your voice mail. She's home.”

The lines of strain in his forehead eased. “Where was she?”

“She claims she was walking around, but she was gone from breakfast until just a little while ago. That's a long walk.”

“That's a long time for you to be out scouring the streets alone. Why didn't you call me sooner?”

“We didn't know she was gone until almost noon.”

“You didn't know she was gone?”

Faith heard dismay in his voice, and something more. Accusation. She bristled. “No, I didn't, David. I haven't resorted to electronic monitoring quite yet.”

“I'm not blaming you, Faith, but where did you think she was?”

“Upstairs in her bedroom with the door closed. Where teenagers spend most of their lives.”

“And you didn't check on her?”

“I've never had any reason to check on her. I'm hoping I won't in the future.”

“This is a pretty big lapse. There must have been some sign she was going to act out—”

“If you want an explanation for why your daughter is acting out, you can just march into my powder room and look in the mirror.”

“You can hardly blame this one on me.”

She held on to her temper by a thread. “David, you've lost the right to tell me how to parent Remy. You stepped out of this family of your own accord, and I won't have you ordering me around from a safe distance. You don't know what it's like to parent a teenager.” She didn't add that he might never have the chance. He knew that better than anyone.

For a long moment he didn't speak, and when he did, his tone was gentler. “You must have been frantic. I was frantic, too, and I feel helpless. I guess it's showing.”

She released one shaky breath, and in the time that took, she realized what she had to do next. “Would you like to come in?”

David looked past her to Lydia, sitting on the sofa. “Maybe another time.” He started to turn away, but she touched his arm just long enough to stop him.

“Alex is upstairs. Why don't you go up and see him? Marley's helping him unpack. Maybe he'd like to go out for ice cream.” She glanced at her watch. “Better make that lunch, I guess. It hasn't been much fun around here today.”

Hope sparked in his eyes. “What about Remy?”

“Remy's grounded for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Good call.”

She should have repeated that she didn't need his blessing, but the words wouldn't come. She wasn't quite sure they were true, anyway. He might soon be her ex-husband, but despite everything she'd said, she had a suspicion that David's opinion was going to continue to matter to her.

She lowered her voice. “I wish you'd just abused me, David.
You know, locked me in the basement or drunk up my inheritance. Then I could hate you.”

“I don't think you have it in you.”

“Maybe I'm as good at hiding things as you were.”

“You can't compete.”

Maybe comfort was called for, but she didn't yet have it in her. Instead, she stepped aside to let him in. “Alex's room is at the top of the stairs.”

He glanced around, nodding to Lydia but wisely not speaking to her. “The bones of this old place are good, Faith.”

“That and an endless supply of cash will make a showplace out of it.”

“I have a lead on a job.”

“What are the chances?”

He shrugged. “About one in a hundred.”

“Things are looking up.”

“I'm trying hard. I'll be able to give you more money soon. Maybe soon enough so you can get this place in shape without killing yourself.”

She didn't doubt he was trying, or that he wanted to help. But she questioned whether the political world he'd known so well would forgive him. “Run up and get Alex. Unless you'd rather I did?”

“No, I'd like to see his room.”

“Get him to show you the kittens.”

“Kittens?”

“He'll tell you the story.” Faith watched David disappear up the stairs. She heard Alex's door open and low voices. In a moment Marley joined her at the bottom. Faith waited.

“You want him to go out with Mr. David, don't you?” Marley said.

Faith hoped she did. She hoped she wanted what was best for her son.

“A boy needs his father.”

She heard another door open and steps moving farther away. Alex was taking his father to see the kittens.

 

David took Alex to Johnny Rocket's, one of a chain designed for fifties nostalgia buffs. He figured they couldn't go wrong with hamburgers and milk shakes. Alex might be living in ethnic food central now, but he doubted his son had lost his taste for all-American.

“Would you like the Rocket Double?” David sounded as if he were addressing a stranger. He would never have asked Alex what he wanted before. Alex would have been tugging at his sleeve or waving his hand in front of David's face.

Alex barely glanced at the menu. “I don't know. What is it?”

“A double burger with cheese. I can tell them to leave off the tomato.”

“I guess.”

David put down his menu. “A chocolate shake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm getting the same thing.” He felt vaguely guilty. Ham was a strict vegetarian, and David had been secretly craving beef for weeks.

Alex was gazing around the room now. David watched him take in the polished chrome, red padded seats and white soda jerk uniforms. Alex couldn't remember a time when diners were commonplace. For that matter, David hardly could himself. But he remembered going to one very much like this with his dad after a revival in a tiny Georgia town. Arnold Bronson had saved enough souls to engage in a little celebration that night.

Celebrations during his childhood were rare, which was why David remembered that one. His father spent many more hours worrying about the souls he couldn't save than the ones he could. His standards for David were high, but his standards for himself were higher. He wanted to prepare the world for the Second Coming, to banish all sin. On his deathbed, he had begged David to take over his ministry.

Arnold was surely spinning in his grave.

David signaled the server and gave her their order, adding a bowl of chili fries in hopes of sparking Alex's interest.

Once the waitress was gone, he cast around for a safe subject. “What are you planning to do to your room?”

“I don't know.”

David tried again. “The attic looks big enough to do something with.”

“Yeah.”

“This is hard for you, isn't it?”

Alex looked up. “What?”

“Everything. All of it. Me. Your mom. Remy. Living on Prospect Street. Changing schools.”

“I guess.”

They sat in silence, not quite looking at each other. Finally David sighed. “Alex, everything that happened is difficult to explain.”

“I don't want you to explain it.”

They sat in silence again.

“Well, I'm going to have to,” David said. “Whether you want me to, or I can find the words, or any of that. There are some things you need to know.”

“No.” Alex looked up. Anger flickered in his eyes. “It's sick. I don't want to hear about it.”

David wondered if he could have chosen a worse time in his children's lives to declare his sexual preference. At this age, kids with heterosexual parents were conflicted enough about sex. How much harder to have a gay father who'd made up his mind so late in life.

“I'm not going to explain anything you don't want to hear, but you have to know this isn't something I chose, Alex. I only chose not to be honest with myself and everybody else. But I'm still me. I'm the dad you've always had, only I'm telling the truth for the first time.”

“Maybe you just should have stayed quiet and lied.”

“That might have been easier in some ways.”