Tainted (12 page)

“Well, we can talk about that next weekend, too. Billy's an idiot, but he
is
her father, and I suppose he has some rights. It would be so weird to see him again after all these years. Hey—it just occurred to me. Maybe Jack's a Christian Scientist. They don't believe in anyone being sick, do they? You have to heal yourself or something crazy like that. Or is that Scientology?”

“No, you were right the first time. It's Christian Science. But he would have told me if he were one.”

Or would he?

“I've got to go check on Katy now and see how her ear is feeling.”

“OK, give her my love.”

“I will.”

They said goodbye simultaneously; after hanging up, Holly went over and sat with Katy while she watched cartoons.

Anna was probably right that she had nothing to worry about, but as time passed and Jack didn't return, she replayed the scene that morning over and over again, trying to figure out why he'd been so angry, why he'd walked out.

Was he a Christian Scientist? Was Anna right? Had she offended his religious principles with the paracetamol? Was Katy supposed to cure herself?

“My ear doesn't hurt any more.”

“That's good, sweetheart.”

“But I'm tired.”

“Do you want to get into bed?”

“Just for a little while.”

Holly carried her upstairs into her bedroom and tucked her in.

“Take a nap and then you'll feel all fine.”

“OK. Tell Jack when he comes back that I'm sorry.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about.”

“Tell him I promise we'll get up to thirty next time.”

“Thirty what?”

“Full moons.”

It was a half-asleep answer, one of those sentences floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. The earache and paracetamol had sapped her of her usual energy; Holly couldn't remember the last time Katy had taken a nap in the morning. She leaned down, kissed Katy's head and headed back downstairs.

“Is she OK?”

Jack was standing at the foot of the stairs.

“She's asleep.”

“That's good.” He held his hand out to her.

“Where did you go?” When she reached him, she took his hand and squeezed it. “I was worried.”

“I needed to get out. It's so bloody hot.”

“I don't want to fight, Jack.”

“We're not fighting. Come with me. I have something to show you.” He led her into the living room, picked up a bag from the floor beside the coffee table. “Look what I've done.” Reaching into the bag, he took out framed photographs, one by one, and placed them on the table. They were pictures of her and Katy together, him and Katy together, him and her together, the three of them together. Some were beach photos, some were simple ones of them sitting in the house. He hadn't been an irritating photographer, snapping away constantly; she'd barely even noticed it when he'd taken his digital camera out.

“They're amazing, Jack. I had no idea you were going to get them framed. They're stunning. I love them. I love the ones you took with the timer of all of us together—especially that one on the beach.”

She couldn't imagine a more perfect way of making up after an argument.

“So . . .” He threw his hands in the air. “Let's get started.”

“What?”

“Here.”

He picked up the now empty bag and began to walk around the living room, taking the photographs she had of her parents, of Katy as a baby and little toddler—all the pictures she had displayed on tabletops and bookshelves—and shoving them in the bag.

“Jack! What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“But those are my pictures.”

“And these are our pictures.”

He dumped the bag on the floor, went back to the coffee table, took each picture and put it in the place of the ones he'd just removed.

“Those are pictures of my parents, Jack. I don't want to get rid of them. And the ones of Katy as a baby too. They're special.”

“They're old. They're the past. You need to look forward.” He was looking around at the new photos, admiring his work.

“I can look forward and still have reminders of the past.” She picked up the bag of her photos he'd left on the floor and started taking the pictures back out. “We can have both. The old ones and the ones you took.”

“No.” He walked over and stood in front of her, his hands on his hips. “No. Put the old ones back in the bag. Now.”

“This is crazy. I don't understand. Don't you have any pictures of your parents?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't.” Grabbing the bag from her hands, he began to put the photos she'd taken out back in.

“I want my pictures, Jack.” She couldn't help it; tears began to run down her face. “They're important to me. Please understand.”

He wasn't listening. He strode into the kitchen and Holly followed him, unbelieving, watching in despair as he took a garbage bag out from under the sink.

“You can't throw them away.”

“Why not?”

“Jack. Please. Stop it. Those are my parents. They're what I have left of my parents.”

Tears were now cascading down her face. This couldn't be happening. Not to them. They were happy. They were in love. Everything was going right. But the man who would hug her to him at night and tease her and excite her was staring at her with an impenetrable, unfeeling expression. She didn't know what to do, could only stand watching helplessly as he tied up the ends of the garbage bag and hauled it outside.

Holly could hear him take the top off the trash can, she could hear the sound of the bag full of pictures being thrown in. And the lid crashing back down.

She sank onto the kitchen chair, lay her head down on the table. When she heard him come back in, she couldn't look up.

“Holly, look at me. We're orphans. But we have each other now. And Katy. That's all we need. Look at me.”

Her face was in her hands, hands wet with tears. She shook her head. When he pulled her hand away, out from under her face, she wouldn't look up. She couldn't.

His hand was over hers, separating her fingers. He was putting something on her fourth finger, slipping it over the tip and down.

“You really should look at me when I propose.”

The weight of both the ring and his words hit her.

“Ah—now I have your attention. Now you're looking at me. Will you marry me, Holly Barrett?”

“What?”

“What's a question not an answer. I want us to have a life together. A new life. Starting from scratch. You've changed my life. You've made me believe in life again. I didn't think that was possible. But now I do.”

“Jack.”

“Jack's not an answer either. Do you want me to get down on one knee? I'll do it, Holly.” He knelt beside her chair. “I had planned it differently. I was going to ask you tonight, I was going to take the night off work and ask you out to dinner, but then Katy had that earache and that might have meant we couldn't let Henry look after her so we could go out and all my plans had to change. So I'm doing it now. We can be a family. You and me and Katy. We can fix each other, Holly. We've both been wounded. But we can fix each other. Wouldn't you like that?”

His eyes were clear and blue and beseeching. He was squeezing her hand so hard the ring he'd put there was digging into her flesh. Her tears were still falling but they were coming out of a different place in her heart: the lonely hole that had been there for so long was filling up and spilling over and the deep-seated anxiety she'd had for the past month was vanishing as she realized that this was her future, her forever future that he was offering her, and she put her arms around his neck and leaned down and kissed him with the kind of love for a man she never believed she'd have.

“Yes,” she whispered in his ear when she caught her breath again. “Yes. That's an answer. Yes, I'll marry you, Jack Dane.”

Billy sat in the white deckchair on the lawn, hoping for some breeze from the bay, even a small hint of a breeze, to cool him down. The air-conditioning in the house wasn't working and he'd spent the night tossing in damp sheets. At about three in the morning, when he'd finally managed to fall asleep, he was woken by the buzz of a mosquito. That irritating whine which wouldn't go away until he'd turned the bedside light on, got up and hunted it down; finally swatting it with a rolled-up newspaper he'd retrieved from the kitchen.

He'd almost forgotten the humidity of a Birch Point heat-wave; California had been hot, but somehow never quite as bad as this. Could Katy sleep in weather like this? Could Katy swim? Ride a bike? His little girl with her long blonde hair and those questioning eyes. That's what had struck him most in the photographs he'd seen at Holly's the first time he'd gone: Katy's eyes. The way they seemed, in every picture, to be asking something. Like: What are you doing with that strange thing you're pointing at me? Or: What happens next? Or was it: Where's my father, the explorer?

An explorer. Yeah, right. An Asshole Dirtbag who'd run away was more like it. He could spend all the time in the world making excuses for himself, some of them actually reasonable excuses, but nothing could change the fact that he'd treated Holly like shit and his daughter as if she didn't exist. He could hear himself try to justify to both Holly and Henry what he'd done, he could hear how pathetic and weak he sounded. “I was young,” or “We were friends and suddenly you were pregnant.” Ridiculous efforts to try to wipe away his negligence, his rank stupidity. No wonder Holly and Henry both thought he was a coward, hiding behind his parents. That's what he'd been, and that's what he'd done.

“Look, I was head over heels in love with Anna, she ditched me, I took advantage of Holly, but I hadn't been expecting I'd take advantage of her on that walk so I didn't have a condom and didn't think about using one, and my parents completely freaked out and I didn't know what to do so I listened to them and went to Stanford and I can't believe I never talked to Holly and I can't believe I spent five years in total denial, but I want to make up for it now.”

Great speech, Billy. That will have them applauding in the aisles.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, stood up and went back into the house. His parents had changed everything since he'd last been there; making it modern and rent-friendly, the antithesis of Holly's place. The kitchen was full of sparkling appliances, all state-of-the-art. He grabbed a glass of water and ice cubes from the ice-cube-making machine, sat down on one of the stools at the bar and picked up the cordless phone. This time he'd call, not arrive at her house with no warning. He'd be smarter this time, more composed. And if he was lucky, Jack wouldn't answer. He'd have a chance of speaking to Holly on her own.

After three rings, an answering machine kicked in:
“Hi, you've reached Holly and Katy. Please leave a message at the beep.”

“Holly, it's Billy. I'd like to speak to you, please. Could you call me back at 508-295-6678? Thank you.”

Well, at least the message hadn't included Jack's name. Billy stood, unsure of what he should do next. Sit and wait for her to call back? Not dare to go out in case she did and he missed it? Or go down to the beach for a swim? Maybe Katy and Holly were down on the beach. He went to try to find a pair of binoculars his parents used to keep in a cupboard in the hall, but before he'd gone ten steps, the phone rang. He doubled back.

“Hello?”

“Billy, it's me. I just got your message.”

“Good. Great. Can we talk? I mean, can we meet up together and talk? I have some ideas about how we could work this out. I'd like to know what you think of them.”

“Listen, Billy. I have something to tell you—”

“You can tell me at the Mill Pond Diner. Remember how we used to like it there? I thought that would be a good place to meet. Have a cup of coffee. Or you could have one of those black-and-white
frappés
you used to like. They probably still have jukeboxes on the tables. I bet they do. I bet the place hasn't—”

“I'm engaged, Billy. Jack Dane and I are getting married. Soon.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Billy—”

“This is crazy, Holl. How long have you known him? This is ridiculous.”

“No, it's not. Not at all.”

“You're not thinking straight. He's a good-looking guy, I grant you that. But what else is he?
Who
is he? You have a crush on him, fine. But marrying him? What about Katy? Have you thought about her?”

“I honestly can't believe you just said that.”

“OK, OK, OK.” His fist was pounding the counter top. “Fine. I'm not allowed to say anything, ever, on the subject of Katy. Just tell me one thing. How long have you known him?”

“It's none of your business.”

“So not long.”

“Billy, I'd known you for three years before you got me pregnant and walked out on me.”

“Why don't you bring up what an asshole I was at every single opportunity you get? If I was such a bastard why did you take that walk with me, anyway? You should have shot me when I came within ten feet of you.”

“I'm going to hang up now.”

“At least I'm not some foreign gold-digging waiter.”

The line went dead at the same time as he was saying, “Holly, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry.”

No. No, no, no. I did not just have that conversation. I didn't lose control again. I wasn't an asshole again. What the hell is wrong with me? It's the fucking heat.

He picked up his glass of water and poured it over his head.

He'd had it planned out. They'd go to the Mill Pond Diner, a place they'd spent fun times in together before. In the days when he was dating Anna. And maybe they'd find that friendship again, the laughter they'd shared at the bad songs on the jukebox. He'd ask her all about her life. He'd tell her how sorry he was about her parents' deaths, how much he'd respected them. He wouldn't mention Jack Dane. They'd gradually get around to talking about Katy and she'd tell him what Katy was like. And together they'd figure out the best way of telling Katy about the explorer who wasn't an explorer.

He'd be the Billy Madison he'd been at Stanford. The rational, hard-studying, well-behaved Billy. Not the dickhead who'd made her pregnant and disappeared.

A chance—that's all he wanted. The opportunity to sit down with her and start over. One huge mistake shouldn't turn you into a monster. People made mistakes, didn't they?

Jack Dane had made it abundantly clear that he would do all he could to keep him away from Katy. Billy had seen it in those cold eyes of his. He had seen it in the way Jack had picked up Katy—as if she were his possession. Had Jack Dane proposed because he thought Billy might be a threat to his plans?

Jack Dane had hoodwinked them all—Holly, Henry and even Katy. No one could dare to suggest that this English emperor who had conquered their hearts had no clothes. Worse, that he might be out to rip off Holly. Jack Dane was the handsome prince savior and Billy was a nasty, spoiled, selfish brat. That was the way the play had been cast.

So he's a waiter. What's wrong with that? You're being elitist, Billy. How dare you suggest he might have ulterior motives? Shame on you.

So Holly hasn't known him long. What's wrong with that? You're being hypocritical, Billy. She knew you for a long time and look what happened.

We love Jack because he's not you. Nothing he does can be wrong because he's not you. You showing up just reminded everyone how bad a man can be. You're a nasty piece of work
, quod erat demonstrandum
Jack Dane is perfect. It's writ in stone. It's a fucking legal document.

He stopped circling the bar and headed outside, down toward the Front Beach, slapping at divebombing mosquitoes with every step. The heat was so oppressive he was breathing in soggy air. No one was on the beach when he arrived. The smart people were in their air-conditioned houses or air-conditioned cars or stores or movie theaters. When he reached the sand, he stripped off, down to his boxer shorts, and ran into the water, finally diving in when it was deep enough.

He was in a sea of squishy, clear jellyfish. Each time he took a stroke forward, he felt as if he were swimming through a million small, slimy plastic bags. After a few seconds he gave up, turned around and waded back to the beach, away from the grotesque jellyfish and tepid sea.

“Charlie, glad I caught you. It's Billy. Billy Madison.”

He was back, pacing around the kitchen bar, the Shoreham phone book open on the counter.

“Billy. Wow—it's been a long time.”

“I know. I've been in California. But I'm back on the East Coast now. In fact, I'm in Shoreham. I'm going to Harvard Law School in the fall, but I'm here for the summer.”

“Wow. Harvard Law. Impressive, Billy. You know, a week or so ago I was thinking about that weekend we spent together when we were sixteen, believe it or not. Remember—”

“You're doing great too, Charlie. I've heard about Figs. Sounds amazing. I'll have to come in and check it out soon.”

“Just tell me when. I've got the reservation book in front of me, as it happens. Glass of champagne for old times on me.”

“I'm not sure of my schedule right now, but it will definitely be soon. I'll let you know and I'll collect that champagne for sure.”

“Good news. And it was nice to hear from you after all this time. We have to catch up. Swap life stories. I'll never forget that party down on the beach. Remember when you—”

“Charlie—listen. I have a favor to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“You have a waiter at Figs. An English guy. Jack Dane.”

“Jack? Sure. What about him?”

“Do you know anything about him? I mean his past? What he did before he came here?”

“Heck, I have his résumé right here in my desk. I can look at it again, but as far as I remember there's nothing particularly interesting in it.”

“Would you mind looking at it again? It's just I'd like to find out a little about him.”

“Why would you—ah, I get it. He's living with Holly Barrett now. Wow. After all that mess, you're not starting up with Holly again?”

“I never—no. I just want to find out a little about him. That's all.”

“Sure, Billy. Whatever. Like I said, I don't think there was anything. Hold on a minute—I'll get the résumé.”

Billy waited, drumming his fingertips on the counter.

“OK, here it is. A waiter at John and Company on the East Side in New York for two years. A good reference from there. Then a year at an Upper West Side restaurant in New York. Good reference.”

“What do you mean by good?”

“I mean ‘Jack Dane is personable, quiet and good at his job' kind of good. And then we have another one-year stint at Lamington's in Boston. And another good reference. Everyone uses the word ‘quiet.' I'd use it too. He's quiet and efficient and good at his job.”

“What about his education? Is that down there?”

“Whoa—Billy. You're stretching things here. What can I tell you? It looks normal, but I don't know anything about schools in England. Let's see—it's some place called Compton Hall.”

“What college did he go to?”

“Doesn't look like he went to one.”

“And where did he live in England? What was he doing there? Was he a waiter there too?”

“That's it, pal. End of story. You know, you messed up big time with the whole Holly thing. I think you should leave them alone, let them be happy. To tell you the truth, it's kind of creepy you digging into his past like this.”

“OK, Charlie. Point taken. And thank you.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I'll see you if you come into the restaurant. But I'm not always here. Gotta go now. Bye, Billy.”

“Goodbye.”

Kind of creepy. Well, that's how I'd describe Jack Dane.

A shower—that's what he needed. Cold water guaranteed. He'd take a long shower and cool down and figure out his next move. But how soon was soon? When was Holly going to marry Jack? How much time did he have before they were Mr. and Mrs. Dane?

Because when that happened, when they were formally a couple, things would change. He'd have a harder time having any kind of relationship with Katy. Jack would be her stepfather. He'd be an even bigger part of her life than he was now.

Just as he had reached the shower and turned on the cold water, he heard the phone ringing.

Holly. Holly's calling me back. She's forgiven me. She's going to give me a chance and meet with me.

He rushed back to the kitchen, naked, and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Billy?”

Not Holly. A female voice but not Holly's.

“Yes. This is Billy. Who's this?”

“Anna. Remember me? The love of your life?”

“My teenage life, Anna.” He sighed. “I'm not a teenager any more.”

“Holly says you look like one still.”

“You talk to Holly?”

“Absolutely. We've always been friends. Why wouldn't we talk?”

“I don't know.” Strangely, he felt on the edge of tears. Now Anna had been added to the list; he could tell it from her voice. Anna hated him too.

“Of course we're friends. And she just called to tell me her big news. She also told me what a scumbag you were when she told you.”

“Great.”

“And I'm calling to tell you—this is without Holly's knowledge, by the way—I'm calling to tell you to back off, Billy. Holl's been through tough times, really tough times. She's happy now. So leave her alone, why don't you?”

“I can't leave her alone, Anna. Katy is my daughter.”