Heartwood (14 page)

He wasn’t angry or resentful about knowing what he knew, he wasn’t one to waste his time with that kind of mental whining. But he did wish he was still like the rest of Anna’s family and was blissfully in the dark about one of the most important facts of her life. As he sat in the sunshine listening to the laughter of the three little girls playing the old-fashioned game, and waited for his wife to return home, he found himself wishing for ignorance.

–—

Laura and Katie had missed the train from the city so Laura had gotten behind on her work, as she’d predicted. That was why it was one o’clock in the morning when Robby woke up, realized that she had not yet come to bed and finally found her in the ballroom.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“The sweet rolls for tomorrow’s breakfasts are baking, so I thought I’d come in here and get started on sanding this woodwork.”

“My wife, the superwoman.”

Robby was looking better than he had when they were in California. The puffiness around his jawline had vanished, and his slim waist was back. But Katie had said he didn’t like working at the museum …

Are you happy, Robby? Is our fresh start working out for you?
she wanted to ask. But she wouldn’t because she was too afraid. Because if he wasn’t happy, she didn’t know what to do about it. And she didn’t want to feel guilty about him. She knew that was selfish, but she couldn’t help it. Everything was going so well for her; she loved her house and she was excited about her business,
and she didn’t care if it was one o’clock in the morning and she was still baking rolls and sanding woodwork.
I’m too happy to be tired, Robby. And I hope you’re happy too
.

“I’d offer to help you,” Robby interrupted her thoughts. “But we both know what happened the last time I tried to strip the wallpaper.”

“That steamer is tricky,” she said lightly.

“And I’m not handy.”

“Not everyone can be a good janitor. You’re the brains of this outfit.”

I hate it when I do that—when I put myself down in that way. But I’m trying to make you feel strong by making myself less than you. And then it bothers me when you smile, like you are right now
.

“Would you like me to make you some tea or a cup of hot chocolate?” she asked.

“No, thank you. You may be able to stay up all night, but I’m a mere mortal. I’m going back to bed.” He headed for the door, then suddenly he turned back. “Laura?” he said. “Don’t ever think that I don’t know how remarkable you are.”

She felt like she’d been found out in a lie. “I’m not—”

“Don’t, all right? Give me credit for knowing what’s in front of me.”

“Well then … thank you.”

The trouble was, she didn’t know if he liked it that she was remarkable. He was getting harder and harder to read.

“Everything you do, you make it look so easy,” he went on.

“Well, most things I do are easy. Making a slipcover or baking a cake isn’t exactly brain surgery.”

“The great Laura McAllister can-do spirit.” He laughed. But he wasn’t looking at her so she couldn’t see if the laughter had spread to his eyes. “Someone should write a story about you.
Maybe you should write it. Call the newspaper here. They have a woman’s page.”

“I couldn’t call the newspaper and brag about myself. Besides, no one would be interested in me.”

“With that can-do spirit? You’re the damn American Dream, Laura. You’re the Girl Scout who grew up to rule the world and the Little Train That Could all rolled into one!” He laughed again, and again she couldn’t see his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. Get the publicity. You’ll sell hundreds of breakfast baskets.”

“I don’t know.”

“The interest will be there. Because you’re one of those people who never fails. Everyone likes to read about a winner.” He yawned. “And now, I’m going to bed.”

After he left, she still felt she didn’t know how he felt about anything—not the house or his job, or their life. Or her.

If I had a perfect marriage I wouldn’t have to wonder what he’s feeling. I’d know because we’d talk to each other. But I’m not sure I know what a perfect marriage is anymore. And sometimes I think the less you say, the better
.

She went back to sanding the woodwork. After a few minutes, Molly wandered in to join her. She settled the dog, whose joints were starting to get arthritic, on a pile of old sheets. “It’s just you and me, girl,” she said, and went back to work.

T
he suggestion Robby had made stuck with her. A story in the local newspaper would be a boost for her business. And, even though it embarrassed her to admit it, she thought it would be fun to see her name in print. Nana’s granddaughter had an ego, it seemed. And what would Nana have said about that? She had always been so careful to keep herself in the background and let her husband shine.

I tried that and it didn’t work, Nana
.

Still, Laura tried to find ways to make it up to Robby. She made special dinners, with candlelight and wine. But by the time she’d put Katie to bed and walked Molly, it was usually too late for them to enjoy sitting down and eating a leisurely meal. Besides, Robby said sometimes her gourmet food was a little too rich for him.

So she told him she agreed with him that something must finally be done about their disgraceful bedroom. Robby swore
that he would paint, hammer, and saw, if they could just please get rid of the ghastly wallpaper, and they both laughed. But it didn’t take long for Robby to get bored.

“God, we’ve been sanding this floor for weeks,” he said.

“Only a couple of days.”

“Well, it feels like it’s been longer. Can’t we hire someone to finish it?”

“Finishing it ourselves is supposed to be what makes it so satisfying.”

“For you, maybe. But I have better things to do.”

Unfortunately, whatever those better things were, they didn’t include his work at the museum.

“I’ll tell you the truth, Laura,” Steve said during a visit to New York, “Leland is disappointed in Robby. He was expecting him to be much more aggressive about getting attention for the museum.”

So Katie had been right, Robby didn’t like working at the museum. And being Robby, he wasn’t putting any effort into the job. The job that had been handed to him on a silver platter, after he’d ruined his career by being stubborn and immature. But a loving wife didn’t let anyone—not even her older brother—know that she thought her husband was being stubborn and immature. A loving wife defended her husband no matter what.

“I’m sure Robby is doing everything he can to build the museum’s reputation. These things take time …”

“He’s been there for three years, and he hasn’t held one major exhibit. There was an offer of an exchange with a museum in Massachusetts that he never bothered to answer.”

“The job he has is so loosely structured. Maybe he doesn’t know what’s expected of him.”

“Well, that won’t be a problem anymore. Since he doesn’t seem to be able to take initiative on his own, Leland’s appointing a board of directors that will be doing regular oversight. They’ll keep it low key for now, no one wants to insult him because he’s my brother-in-law, but he’s going to have goals he has to reach.”

Laura braced herself for the explosion when Robby heard the news. But he never mentioned it—and neither did she. By that time she was busier than she’d been before, because one of the inns that had been buying her breakfast baskets had called to ask if she could cater an event for them—a cocktail party that would benefit an arts program for low-income kids.

“And of course you said yes,” Robby said when she told him about it.

“Look at it this way: now I won’t have time to finish sanding the bedroom floor, so you can hire someone after all.”

“Ah, the perks that come from having a successful wife.”

–—

Overnight, Laura was plunged into a whole new world. She had to hold a tasting for the charity’s planning committee so they could decide on the appetizers. She had to hire waiters and bartenders, and she had to rent tables and chairs and a tent. She had to buy tablecloths and napkins, and baskets for her signature homegrown flower centerpieces. She had to figure out the cost per head for the guests.

“Are you sure you want to take on something as elaborate as this?” her mother asked. It was Sunday afternoon, and Katie and Laura had had lunch with Iris and Theo. This was a weekly ritual Laura had begun after Katie arrived in New York. She wanted her child to have as much time with her parents as
possible. Especially Theo—for reasons she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. While his recovery after the heart attack had been satisfactory—that was what the doctors said—he certainly wasn’t a healthy man. In addition to the medicine he carried at all times, there was now an oxygen tank discreetly tucked away in the new first-floor bedroom. He hated using it and tried not to when his children and grandchildren were around, but the fact that he needed it was a new development. Iris avoided talking about it, probably in deference to his wishes, but Laura had noticed that whenever Theo had a setback with his health, her mother seemed to become more worried about the health of Laura’s marriage. Now she repeated, “Are you sure about this job?”

“I have to try it. It’s only cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, not a full meal. It’s a bigger job than I’ve ever done before, but as parties go, it’s relatively simple, so it’s a good way to start expanding my business.”

Iris picked up a plate and began rinsing it carefully. “Don’t you and Robby make a good enough living now? Why do you have to expand?”

“I guess … because I enjoy the challenge. I want to see how far I can go … the way you did, when you went back to school and got your doctorate.”

Iris put down the plate and looked at her. “I waited until my husband was ready for me to do that.”

I knew it
, Laura thought.
What she’s really worried about is Robby’s reaction
.

“Are you saying Robby isn’t ready? Has he told you that?”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

Not in so many words. But he could let her mother know—very subtly, of course—how overworked Laura was. And how
little time they had together. “This is nineteen eighty-two, Mom. Women don’t feel they have to put their lives on hold until it’s convenient for everyone else.”

“I know that. And I know what I’m going to say will seem old-fashioned, but … you have a good man, Laura. He’s a good father … and he’s a good husband …”

Is he? How do you know that?

“He’s never even looked at another woman.”

And there was the answer—her mother’s criteria for a good husband. Perhaps it was her pain about Theo’s cheating, even after all these years, or maybe it was just that an insecure woman like Iris would always prize fidelity above all else.

“I still think, in the end,” Iris went on, “that a marriage is a seventy–thirty percent proposition. At best. And the woman is the one who must give the seventy percent. I don’t care how much the times have changed.”

Out of nowhere, stupid tears stung Laura’s eyes. Her mother had never criticized her before—not like this, not over something so serious. It shouldn’t matter so much, but it did.

“I give one hundred percent,” she flung at her mother. “All the time. And Robby knows it. He and I are just fine.”

“Good,” said her mother. “That’s all I wanted to hear.” She reached over to kiss Laura on the cheek. “Marriage isn’t easy, but when it’s good, it’s one of the greatest joys I know.”

–—

Later that night Laura lay in bed next to Robby. He was already asleep but she was having trouble drifting off. She closed her eyes, but the talk with Iris kept coming back to her. Her mother was modern in many ways, but when it came to men and women, Iris was not really a part of her own generation. Her
standards came from the last century; she felt a woman who had never been married had not had a full life, and it was a woman’s responsibility to make a marriage work. And while it was painful when a man cheated on his wife, she had an obligation to try to forgive him because men would be men. Laura was sure her mother would not have felt the same way about a cheating wife.

Laura was getting drowsy at last. Her mind began to wander as minds do, on the edge of sleep. An image of Iris’s face floated through her consciousness—but in the image, her mother’s dark eyes were tragic. Whenever someone or something had disappointed Iris, that was the way her eyes would look, as if she’d just suffered a horrible loss. Laura could remember the expression from her earliest days. And she could remember promising herself that she would never do anything to cause it. Yet, now as she drifted into sleep, she felt responsible for the tragic look, and she wanted to protest that she hadn’t done anything. But then, as happens in dreams and nightmares, her mother’s eyes became the eyes in the portrait she and Katie had seen in the thrift shop. Once again, Laura felt the same unease she’d felt in the store. But then the painting faded away and she was asleep.

–—

Theo was breathing easily but deeply. Iris relaxed in the bed next to him because this was her cue that he was asleep. But she didn’t close her own eyes; she was too troubled.
Why was I so hard on Laura earlier?
she thought as she stared into the darkness.
I’m not a fusty old-timer who thinks a woman shouldn’t have any life but her husband’s. I wanted my own career and my own fulfillment and I got them … But not at my husband’s expense, that’s the difference
.