Our faces were very close. "You be careful now," she whispered. "Or better yet, go home. It's time for us all to just go home."
Chapter 22
In the morning Joe got up and left early. I heard the door click shut, and it was just beginning to get light. I heard a car engine start through the open window. After another minute or so, Mom crawled in bed with me.
She didn't say anything. She pulled me to her and kissed my temple, right in her secret spot. Then she held me, my head on her shoulder. We just lay like that, not talking.
Then finally she spoke. "One thing I was always happy about, Evie. I was happy you grew up plain, all knees and elbows. You weren't some curly-headed doll. It meant you'd use your brain. And you did. I wanted to keep you that way for as long as I could. When you started getting pretty, I didn't want you to know it. I was just watching out for you, you see, the best I could. You've got to understand something. Mothers don't want their kids to make their mistakes."
"Your mistake was what? Being pretty?"
"Maybe liking it a little too much. And finding myself in trouble."
In trouble. I didn't get it at first. I thought maybe she was talking about detention at school.
"You mean ... you were pregnant when you got married?"
She nodded. "I thought you figured that out a long time ago."
Who, me? Sister Mary Evelyn?
"Your father had to marry me. Uncle Bill made him. Oh, I don't know, I guess he loved me, in his way. But I loved him different. I loved him like a fever. Then he left. He kicked through love like it was dust and he kept on walking. So I had to raise you alone — and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Because I was pretty. I had a kid and no husband, and people's minds get dirty. The men look and the women talk and it doesn't matter how straight a line you walk. It makes you so ... tired."
Before Joe, if she had a date, she said good night with the door open. She'd never let them in. She had some boyfriends, but nothing took. "One louse after another," Mom used to say. "I'm being choosy this time."
I had always loved my neighborhood. I loved that I knew all the shop owners, that Mr. Gardella in the candy store would toss me penny candy if my pockets were empty, that if Mr. Lanigan was heading home and had change in his pocket he'd buy me an egg cream. Beverly Plunkett's kid got egg creams and candy, and I always thought it was because I didn't have a father. Or was it because they liked looking at my mom?
"Joe was a good bet for us, sweetie. I saw it right away. I thought, here is a place to rest. Make a real life. Pot roast and potatoes, church on Sundays."
"Did you ever love Joe?" I asked.
"Sure, baby," Mom said. "But not as much as you did."
Joe came back, and we all went down to breakfast, like usual. We sat at the table we always sat at. It was almost like being a family. Except for the no talking part.
Joe's coffee cup rattled in its saucer. The lifeguard fished Mrs. Grayson's cigarette out of the pool. A breeze ruffled the palm trees and the napkins on the tables.
I tried to remember what it had felt like before we left. The steamy kitchen, both of us on Joe's lap, him offering the trip, the sense that the road was right outside the door and he would take us on it and it would be adventure and fun and everything he promised.
The letter sat in the pocket of my skirt. Some of the ink had run, but you could still read it.
Sorry to pull out like this. Look me up in New York.
Maybe we can get something going in a place
we know something about.
At the bottom was the name of the hotel, the Metropole, and an address on West Forty-eighth Street. If I gave it to Joe, I knew what would happen: We'd be packing up the car that morning, following the money. I couldn't let that happen. I had to find a way to make it all work. I had to get around Joe and Mom and show Peter that I was the one for him. He'd known it last night, even if it was just for a second.
I had to fix Mom and Joe. I'd done it before. The fights they'd had, even before they married, I could always fix them. Everybody had to go to the places they belonged.
I knew that last night Peter had come close to telling me he loved me. I could feel it in the way he'd said Okay, baby, we'll stop. I saw it in his face when he protected me from Mom.
Joe noticed the small cut on my head.
"What happened to you?"
"Bumped it."
Mom met my eyes over the coffee cup. The door to the courtyard opened, and Peter walked in. He was exactly the last person I expected to see.
I stood up. I thought, right then, that he'd come to see me.
He said hello and held out my chair again, then pulled up one for himself. He raised a hand to the waiter for coffee. His hair was brushed straight off his forehead, his pale blue shirt open at the neck.
He seemed completely relaxed as he added cream to his coffee. "Good morning, all," he said. "I came to say good-bye to the Graysons, but Wally tells me they checked out. I think it's time I took off, too."
Mom slipped her dark glasses out of her purse and put them on.
"Tom told me I should look them up in New York," Peter said. He took a sip of coffee. "Now that I've got old times to talk about with them."
What had happened? Peter was leaving? I tried to figure this out.
Was he was threatening Joe? Even though he said things so nice and easy. Old times — did that mean he'd spill the beans to the Graysons? For what? Spite?
Or was it absolution?
Was it because of what I'd told him last night?
Did that mean it was my fault if Joe lost the deal, if Peter went away?
I needed more time with Peter. If he told . the Graysons, Joe would never let him in the door again. There had to be another way to make things right.
We had to leave today, too. I could figure things out on the way up to New York.
I reached into the pocket of my skirt and took out the letter. "Oh, Dad, I forgot to give you this. Mrs. Grayson gave it to me."
"You forgot?" Joe grabbed the letter from me and read it quickly. "Well, there you go. That Grayson is a stand-up guy. We can still make a deal somehow."
"That's good, Joe," Peter said. He leaned back in his chair. "I'll tell him you said that when I see him. I'm taking off right after breakfast."
"We should all go home," I said. "Right, Joe?"
"What?" Joe said. "And miss the fishing trip?"
Peter's surprise made him jerk slightly back in his chair, like he was the fish on a line.
"Joe?" Mom said.
"I already talked to the kitchen — they made a hamper, chicken sandwiches."
"But the Graysons are gone," Mom said.
"So? We're going to pass up a trip because of that? After all, Pete is leaving. We don't want to leave without a fishing trip."
"No, thanks," Peter said. "I'm all gassed up and ready to go.
"You're not still sore about last night, are you, buddy?" Joe asked. "You're not the type to hold a grudge, are you? I was a little tight. I'm laying off the Scotch from now on, let me tell you."
"I'm not going," Mom said. "I have a headache."
"It's a nice breezy day. We'll have a ball. Won't we, Pete? You're the sailor, am I right?"
Peter didn't say anything. It was the first time I'd ever seen him look unsure.
"Come on, it's all arranged. I talked to Wally — his dad has a boat for hire. I'll drive us down to the dock."
“Joe —“
"No wet blankets allowed," Joe said, cutting Mom off. She clammed up.
I waited to see if Joe wanted me to come, too. I saw that he was in charge. Everyone was a little afraid of him, a little afraid of his mood. Even Peter.