After what seemed an interminable amount of time Maggie remembered the towel hanging on a hook outside the shower. She reached outside the curtain and fumbled for the towel, half expecting a hand to clamp down on her wrist. Her fingers grasped the soft terry cloth. She snatched it roughly from the hook and pulled it behind the curtain. With a shuddering sigh of relief, she wrapped the towel around her and tucked it in. Then she threw back the shower curtain.
There, facing her in the doorway, stood Evy, grinning.
Maggie let out a cry and clutched the towel tightly to herself.
“Did I frighten you?” the girl asked. She lifted up her hand and held out Maggie’s bathrobe. “I didn’t mean to. I thought you might need this.”
“What are you doing here?” Maggie snapped, stepping out of the tub and grabbing the robe from the girl’s outstretched hand.
“I’m sorry,” Evy apologized, a hurt expression on her face. “I just came by to visit, and I heard the shower running, so I came in. I called out but you didn’t answer.”
Maggie turned her back to the girl and pulled on the robe, pulling off the towel and tying the belt securely around her. Her heart was still hammering from the shock of seeing Evy in the doorway. She tried to calm the hysterical tremor in her voice. It was all innocent enough, she thought.
“You shouldn’t just creep up on people like that,” Maggie said angrily, turning back to face her.
Evy seemed surprised by her anger. “I just came by to be friendly. I didn’t know you’d get so mad.”
The steam and the damp heavy air in the bathroom were suffocating. Maggie felt almost irrationally cornered by the way the girl stood in the doorway, blocking her path with an expression of wounded innocence on her face. “Excuse me,” she muttered, pushing by the girl’s thin frame.
The cool air in the hallway hit her with a rush that seemed to revive her and calm her temper. She turned back to face Evy. She put up a hand in a gesture of reconciliation. “You just startled me, that’s all. You may as well come in and sit down.”
“I’ll leave if you want,” said the girl. “I just thought you wanted to be friends.”
Maggie was conscious of a tiny headache which was beginning to throb over her left eye. “I do,” she said. “Of course I do. Would you like something from the kitchen?”
“No, I’m fine,” said Evy.
“Have a seat.” Maggie indicated the sofa, which faced the fireplace. Maggie sat down in the rocker beside the hearth and began to rock absently, back and forth, staring into the fire. The heat from the fire
felt soothing on her face, as if she were lying in the sun. The girl settled herself into the corner of the couch.
“I can’t wait until next summer,” Maggie sighed.
“Next summer?” Evy asked.
Maggie shook her head. “Don’t mind me. I was thinking of the sun. That’s all.”
“Oh,” said Evy flatly. She leaned back against the throw pillow in the corner of the sofa. “Summer’s a long way off.”
Maggie nodded moodily and continued to rock.
“Winters aren’t so bad,” Evy offered. “Doesn’t snow that much. It has to do with being so near the ocean. I remember one time, though, when my mother and I first came here, there was this big ice storm. All the trees, everything was covered with ice. You could hear the branches creaking as you passed by. And then every so often one would just break from the weight. Crack,” said Evy, smacking her palm with her bony hand, “just like that.”
Maggie started at the girl’s demonstration. She looked up at Evy, who shifted in her seat, adjusting the pillow behind her. “I hope we don’t get one of those,” Maggie said.
“Oh, it really looked neat,” said Evy. A silence fell between them. Maggie felt weary from the day’s events and the tension of Evy’s appearance. The heat of the fire was making her drowsy. She wished the girl would go, but Evy seemed content to sit on the sofa, watching her. Feeling obligated to make conversation, Maggie searched for something to say.
“Did you get much done at the office after I left?” she asked at last.
“Not much,” said the girl.
“I had a good time meeting that old sailmaker today.”
“Ben?” Evy asked.
“Yes. He’s had a fascinating life.”
“He’s really old,” Evy observed, rearranging herself in her seat again.
Maggie stifled a yawn. It seemed as if the girl was incapable of making conversation. And yet she made no move to leave. Maggie gave it another stab.
“I’ve been reading these notices we’re putting in the paper about a fair on Sunday. Is this an annual event?”
Evy nodded. “Every year.” She squirmed in her seat again. “There’s something under here,” she complained.
Maggie screwed up her mouth impatiently. “I could make some tea if you’d like,” she said, hoping Evy would refuse, and take the signal to leave.
Evy stuck her hand behind the pillow and rooted around. “No thanks,” she said. She stopped fumbling and seemed to grasp something. “What’s this?” she asked, dislodging the object from between the cushion and the sofa back. She held it up and scrutinized it. It was a pipe with a carved wooden bowl. Maggie tried to imagine how it had gotten there. Then she remembered that Jess had sat there on Saturday, when he came with the perfume. It must have fallen out of his pocket. He
had
mentioned at dinner that he’d lost his good pipe.
“How about that,” Maggie said, careful to keep her
tone indifferent. “Must be Thornhill’s.” She extended her hand to Evy, indicating a desire to look at it.
Evy did not look at Maggie, but continued to examine the pipe in her hands. “Why do you say that?” she asked softly.
“It must be,” said Maggie, insisting on her own fabrication. “It’s certainly not mine.”
Evy’s eyes met Maggie’s. Her face was drained of all color. “Actually, it’s Jess’s pipe.” Evy placed the pipe carefully on the low table in front of her, as if jarring it even slightly might cause it to explode.
“Jess’s?” Maggie’s attempt to show surprise resounded unconvincingly in the room.
“Mr. Emmett gave it to him last year, on his birthday,” said Evy slowly.
“Well,” said Maggie weakly. She rose from her seat and walked over to the fire, avoiding the girl’s stare. She crouched in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together, all the while casting about in her mind for a way to explain. “It might be Jess’s, come to think of it. He was here to pick me up. I had some car trouble the other day…”
Evy spoke coldly from behind her. “Why’d you lie about it? You knew it was Jess’s.”
Maggie reached out angrily and disengaged the poker from the stand which held the fireplace tools. She grasped the metal rod tightly and began thrusting it into the glowing logs. “I didn’t lie,” Maggie insisted defensively. “I didn’t recognize it at first. I have no reason to lie, Evy. I told you, Jess was here the other day. That old car of the Thornhills seems to be a lemon.
And I needed to get out and do some errands so I asked Jess for a ride. That’s all there was to it. He came by and visited for a few minutes…”
“Stop it,” said Evy. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Maggie clutched the poker tightly in one hand. Evy’s words began to break across her back like lashes from a whip.
“What’s the matter with you?” said Evy. “Do you think I’m so stupid that I don’t know what you’re doing? With Jess. Throwing yourself at him. It’s disgusting. You’re doing something disgusting and trying to pretend you’re not.”
“That’s not true,” Maggie whispered into the fire.
“Who do you think you’re fooling with your lies?” the girl railed at Maggie’s back. She stood up and inched toward the crouching woman, squeezing and unfurling her fingers. “I know what you’re doing. I know all about it. But Jess. How did you ever lure him into it?”
Maggie wheeled around and stood up, the poker clutched tightly in her trembling hand, her eyes wild. “Stop it,” she cried. “Stop it. I won’t listen to it.”
Evy drew back in alarm at the sight of Maggie’s fury. The poker bobbed a few feet from her breastbone. “All right,” said Evy. “All right.” Her eyes were riveted on the menacing poker.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Maggie breathed.
“I take it back,” Evy placated her. “Maybe you’re right. Just don’t hit me.”
“Hit you?” Maggie looked down at the poker on which Evy’s eyes were fixed. She looked genuinely perplexed,
as if she had forgotten she was holding it. Her eyes traveled back to Evy’s frightened face. “Hit you?” she repeated. Then she groaned. “Oh, God.” She threw the iron rod back among the collection of fireplace implements, then rested her forehead against the mantelpiece. “I’m sorry,” she moaned.
Evy’s eyes glittered as they moved from the fallen poker to Maggie’s face, hidden in the crook of her elbow. She took a step toward her. Just then an impatient knocking sounded at the back door. Both women looked up, startled, at the door.
“Open up,” cried Jess’s voice. “I can’t hold this thing.”
9
Maggie opened the door to see a smiling Jess, cradling a fluffy brown and white puppy that squirmed in his arms. His smile faded as he looked at her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You look awful. You’re as white as a ghost.”
“I’m okay,” she said. She reached out to touch the whimpering ball of fur. “You brought my puppy.”
“Can I bring him in?” he asked. “I think he’s gonna pee on me any minute.”
“Evy’s here,” said Maggie.
“Well,” said Jess, “I hate to interrupt, but this guy ain’t gonna wait.”
Maggie nodded and stood aside, letting Jess and his tiny bundle through the door.
Evy was putting on her jacket as he came in.
“Hey, Evy,” he said pleasantly, “you want to meet Maggie’s new pup?”
“Cute,” the girl muttered, avoiding his eyes. “I’m just going.”
“Don’t run off,” he said. “I think this guy wants us to play with him a little. Hey, will you hand me that newspaper in the log basket?” Evy handed him the paper
without a word, then walked around him as he bent down and put the puppy on the paper.
She continued on past Maggie and out the door.
“Evy,” Maggie pleaded as the girl walked by with her head bowed. Evy stopped but did not look at her. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Good-bye,” the girl muttered and she started down the porch steps into the misty evening.
Maggie turned back into the room and saw Jess sitting beside the little dog, his forefinger in the puppy’s tiny jaws. He looked up at her apologetically. “I guess I came at a bad time. I thought you might be cheered up by having your puppy. You seemed so blue last night.”
Maggie smiled, her happiness at seeing him overshadowing how upset she was about the scene with Evy. “I’m glad you brought him.” She knelt down beside him and ran a finger over the puppy’s damp fur. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” she said.
“I don’t give up without a fight,” he said. “What was Evy doing here?”
Maggie shrugged. “She just came by to be friendly.”
“That was nice,” said Jess hopefully.
“We ended up having an argument.”
“About what?”
Maggie glanced at him. “About you. She’s very attached to you. She found your pipe under a sofa cushion and she got kind of jealous.”
“Well, she’ll just have to learn to get used to it,” said Jess firmly. Then he smiled. “I’m glad to get my pipe back.”
“Jess…” Maggie began, and then stopped.
“Yeah?”
“Does she have any reason to be so jealous? I mean, is there, was there ever anything…”
“Oh, Maggie,” Jess protested, “for heaven’s sake, I told you. I’m her friend. She’s like a kid sister to me. How often do I have to say it?”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t want to be in the middle of anything. I can’t tell you how much it bothers me.”
“I don’t know why this is such a problem for you. She’s just a kid. You’re a woman who knows a lot more about the world than she does. You have to try with her. Why do you let her drag you into these arguments? You can handle this. She’s making an effort. Why don’t you meet her halfway? She’s a nice kid when you get to know her.”
“You’re angry at me,” Maggie said.
“I’m not,” he insisted. “I just want there to be peace between you two. I don’t understand how these arguments get started.”
Guiltily, Maggie remembered her lies about the weekend, and the pipe. Maybe it was the lies, more than anything else, that angered the girl. Silently, Maggie resolved to try harder.
“Meanwhile,” said Jess, “you’re hardly paying any attention to this little fella.”
Maggie picked up the little animal and drew it up to her cheek. The puppy made soft breathing sounds near her ear. “Hello. Oh, yes.”
Jess sat back and folded his arms. “Have you decided yet what you’re going to call him?”
Maggie nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it and I think I’ll call him Willy.”
“Don’t tell me,” Jess pouted. “There’s another man.”
Maggie laughed. “I had a great-uncle named Willy,” she explained.
“All right,” said Jess, reaching over and pulling the dog’s ear gently. “Willy it is. Hey, Willy,” he said, “tell this lady to go put some clothes on so we can go buy you some food and take you for a walk.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Maggie protested quickly.
Jess looked at her with a wry smile. “I want to. You must know that by now.”
Maggie smiled in spite of herself. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she said.
“No hurry,” said Jess, placing the puppy back on the floor. “Just give us an old sock to chew on and we’ll be fine.”
Maggie went into her bedroom and opened the top drawer of her bureau. Inside, underneath a pile of scarves, was a pair of gray woolen gloves she had worn in high school. She pulled them out and looked at them for a moment. Then she brought them back to the living room. Crouching down, she held one in front of the puppy. Immediately the little dog bit down on it and began to work it between his tiny teeth.
“You want one too?” she asked, holding the other glove up to Jess.
“Not now,” he said. “Maybe after dinner.”
Laughing and shaking her head, Maggie went back into her bedroom to dress.
• • •
It had taken Owen Duggan all of about twenty minutes to eat the chicken and dumplings which his housekeeper, Mireille Faria, had left simmering on the stove top for him. After his dinner and the nightly news he was still restless, disinterested in getting started on the day’s pictures. So, an hour later he found himself enveloped in a smoky haze on a barstool at the Sloop John B., nursing a Heineken, and chatting intermittently with Roy Galeata, who tended the bar. The color TV droned on at the end of the bar, and the laughter and murmurings of patrons scattered around the room provided the noisy, masculine atmosphere which Owen found soothing and restorative in some indefinable way.