He went and I got up. When I came down to breakfast, I knew from the way they acted that I’d made a hit with the servants. Myra introduced me to the others, the men, whose names were Jackson, Coleman, and Boyd. Boyd, it turned out, was Myra’s cousin, and spelled Jasper as driver when Jasper had a day off. Today was one such day, and he offered to take me anywhere I needed to go, but I told him I preferred to stay in and discover the place for myself.
There was a phone extension in the upstairs hall, and I put in two or three calls, one to Jake, at his home, one to Bianca, and of course one to Liz. I begged her to stop by that very day, and she wound up by coming to lunch. I was so glad to see her I cried, and especially at how she was dressed, so distinguished, and all in my honor, and in honor of who might be there. She had on a beige pantsuit, very smart and very becoming, with a red ribbon on her gray hair. After lunch I took her upstairs to my room, but had hardly closed the door when she led me to the bed, pushed me onto it, and pulled up a chair beside me. “Get to it, baby,” she whispered. “What happened?” For I hadn’t called her, in spite of my promise. I told her now, about the lab and the test results, and she said, “Thank god, Joan. I had all my fingers crossed for you. But you don’t seem happy. What is it?”
“It’s my little boy, Tad.”
I told then, about the scream he’d let out, and what it had done to me. But then I couldn’t stop. I went on and on about my marriage to Earl, and the deal that had been made. “But now,” I said, “something tells me that deal is off-that our marriage is to be like any other. That he wants to-consummate, as the lawyer called it. That’s what I’m up against now-what I think I’m up against.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“… Not even a little bit.”
“So O.K. baby-it’s something a girl runs into-I do myself, occasionally. But, one reason or another, you have to anyway. So, how you do, you close your eyes, and pretend it’s Rock Hudson.”
“I wish I could.”
“Well what’s stopping you?”
“All kinds of things.”
“You mean, like Tom Barclay?”
I didn’t answer her. I wanted to-I wanted to scoff and ask what he had to do with anything. But I realized, when she spoke his name and my heart leapt, that he did have something to do with it, a lot, in fact. And from my reaction she realized it too.
“Then, we call it that, we call it him. And you can’t pretend your husband’s him, on account you really wish it was, and it would be getting messy. So, I’d say you’re in a spot-but, at least, Tom will be glad to hear it.”
“… What makes you think so, Liz?”
“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
She lit a cigarette, inhaled, and went on without me answering: “O.K., then, I’ll tell you. He comes in, Joan. He sits with me, and when he comes in he talks.”
“About me, you mean?”
“About nothing else. He’s bitter, baby. He feels you crossed him, that you did it for money, and that he doesn’t respect.”
“I didn’t do it for the money!”
“… What did you do it for?”
She was suddenly sharp, and I felt, close as I was to her, that I didn’t have her respect, either. “I did it for Tad.”
“And where did that get you, I ask.”
“For Christ’s sake, shut up.”
“Baby, you’ve got it coming.”
“You say Tom comes in?”
“Every night, so far.”
“Then you might mention to him, Liz, if you find occasion, that … I have been true to him-so far. And I’m goddam well going to be. But please, please, please, don’t say I told you that.”
“If I do, he might rush over a minute later.”
“And he could get pushed out.”
“I’m not sure of that,” Liz said. “I’m not so sure.”
“Please don’t do it.”
“I’ll use my judgment what to tell him.”
“I’m not ready for him yet.”
She looked at me quite some time, then asked: “What do you mean by that?”
I guess I looked at her a while too. Then I told her: “Liz, I’m not sure I know.”
“If you mean what I think you mean-?”
“I mean, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I mean, first things first. And first of all, for me, I’ve got to make clear a deal is a deal is a deal. Once that’s understood, life can go on, and we’ll see where we take it from there.”
“And Tom? What does he do?”
“One thing at a time, Liz-!”
“O.K., O.K., just asking.”
I was suddenly half hysterical, and she reached out to calm me down. Then, looking at her watch: “Got to be running along, or Jake will have my skin. Bianca still hasn’t found someone to replace you, so I’m back to doing double the work.”
“I’m sorry, Liz.”
“I’m not complaining, I’m just telling you how it is.” She hesitated. “On Tom, I’ll tell him keep his fingers crossed, there may be more to come. Tell him calm down, take it easy.”
“Thank you.”
“He may not take it well. He’s not a patient boy.”
“He’ll have to take it, Liz. What’s his other choice?”
27
She went, and I got up and dressed. Then I went down and sat in the drawing room, waiting for Earl to come home. But I didn’t sit there long, for at 4:30 here came the car, and he bounded inside, bright and cheerful, “all ready for my walk to the Garden of Roses-except that this time, that woman Liz will serve me, instead of a beautiful girl I know.” I patted his cheek and gave him the smile he was after. I admit I was surprised he intended to keep up his pattern of visiting the Garden, but there was no reason I should have been-he’d been going there long before I came into the picture, so why not keep going now? “But Joanie,” he whispered, and took me in his arms, “when I get back, have I got a piece of news! I’m still pinching myself. I’ll give you a little hint: From now on, we can lead a normal life, like other people.”
He went up, changed to walking clothes, the rough shoes he had always worn, the double-weave trousers, flannel sport shirt, and coat. He patted me, kissed me, and headed for the door, waving at Boyd and tapping his watch. Then, quite briskly, he went marching off. He hadn’t said anything about me, if I wished to go somewhere, and I thought: I’ll fix that, right now. So I got a coat and went out to where Boyd was in the car, waiting to start down and bring Earl back. I got in the back seat and asked him to drive me to the garage where I’d left my car. He looked startled, but then said: “O.K., Mrs. White.”
“I’d prefer you call me Joan.”
“All right,” Boyd said. “Joan.”
At the garage, I paid the storage bill, $35, and then drove back. On the way I drove past my house, my out-of-date little bungalow, the only home I’d known since I bailed out of Pittsburgh. It looked exactly the same. I drove on. When I got to the White mansion-I can’t make myself say “got home”-I drove around back to the garage and put my car in there. Three other cars were there, a station wagon, a pick-up truck, and a slightly battered sedan, the last probably belonging to one of the servants. I’m sure I could have found keys to one of the other two and used it, but I was happier having my own car on hand.
Just before six here came Earl, in the car with Boyd, and I met him in the hall, asking if he had a nice walk. “Very nice,” he answered, “except for the stop at the Garden. Your former colleague, Liz, is a wholly objectionable person, cheap, familiar, and in all ways dreadful.”
“I like her.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“She’s a close personal friend, almost the only friend I have here, and I’ll be grateful if you speak no ill of her.”