Promises (35 page)

“Oh, yes. He never has been a top student, you know, but now I have a hard time getting him to do his homework. He plays ball, watches television—and telephones his father. His all-American father.”

Audrey said gently, “Don’t be easy on him about the homework. Set penalties. You mustn’t let him go downhill simply because his father isn’t in the house.”

“I understand. And Megan is the opposite. She has six majors and wants me to tutor her in college-level chemistry. She’s become a fanatic about work. No telephone, no boys, and no girls either.”

“Tell her to come see me. Do you think she will?”

“Megan will do anything I ask her to do. She identifies with me. She has always been so good, maybe too good. It’s Danny—Dan—who refuses. He says it’s ‘sissy’—only that’s not the word he uses—and he can take care of himself.”

“Perhaps he can.” Audrey looked at her watch. “We’ve only five minutes left to talk about Julie, so let me sum up. It’s going to take time. If I see that I’m not making progress at all, I’ll tell you to take her to a psychiatrist. For the present I believe I understand her.”

“My tender one. She has been that always, probably from the day she was born. Who knows? Is it because she’s the middle child, or is it genetic? And anyway, what’s the difference? She was getting along quite well, living her little life in her own way, until this—this thing happened.” And Margaret heard her own voice
tremble. “It’s as if she had been hit by a truck.” She stood up. “Well, thank you, Audrey. You’ve got more troubles sitting in your waiting room, so I’ll be going.”

Megan was doing homework in the den when Margaret came in, apologizing for being late.

“I’m sorry I was delayed. Here are the car keys. You should be able to get there in twenty minutes, though. Tell the dentist it’s my fault.” Her words rushed as did her hands, rummaging in her pocketbook. “Can you stop and get some fruit on your way back? Whatever you see that’s not too expensive. Apples, mostly, this time of year.”

On the back steps in the mild October sunshine, Danny sat idly scratching Rufus on the head.

“What’s up?” asked Margaret.

“Nothing.”

“Have you got much homework?”

“Some.”

“It’s after five. Don’t you think you should start doing it?”

“No,” Danny said.

Be firm with him.

“Well, I know you should. First history quiz of the semester last Friday, and you got C-plus. There’s no excuse for that.”

“Maybe I’m just stupid.”

“No, you’re not, Daniel. You simply didn’t do the reading. Now go on upstairs and get to work while Julie and I put supper together.”

“I’ll go later, Mom. Will you leave me alone?”

“No, I won’t. After supper you’ve got to take the
mower and go over the front lawn. It’s a disgrace. And then you can get back to your homework.”

“Oh, all right.” He got to his feet and climbed the steps, scuffing his new shoes as he went. “All you do is nag me, Mom. Nag, nag.”

“That’s not true, and you know it, Dan.”

The potatoes were on the kitchen table. Julie had not peeled them. I don’t recognize these children, Margaret thought; I feel as if I’m swimming against the tide and can’t get anywhere. She went to the foot of the stairs to summon Julie.

“Please come down and peel the potatoes,” she called. “I asked you this morning to have them ready for me.”

“Well, I forgot,” Julie called back.

She looked sullen and unkempt. Her tawny hair—Adam’s hair—had obviously not been washed all week. A mother was not supposed to nag, but what else could she do when no one paid attention anymore unless she did nag? And deciding to forget the hair for the moment, Margaret spoke pleasantly.

“Well, anyone can forget. So do them for me, will you? I’m going to broil some chicken on the grill and make the salad while you set the table.”

It was strange that the absence of just one person had made the dining room feel too large. Yet it seemed important to keep the family’s habits as unchanged as possible, to say, in effect: We are not going to weaken simply because he has left us.

At half past six, at seven, at seven-fifteen, Megan had not come home. Margaret paced the front porch to search up and down the street. Behind her, silent and round eyed, stood Danny and Julie.

Margaret talked to herself. “I can’t imagine where she is. I phoned the dentist, the office is closed, I can’t imagine …” Her heart pounded.

It was dark, and she was about to call the police, when Fred Davis, in his van with Megan beside him, drew into the driveway.

“Oh,” Megan cried, “where were you? I called and there was no answer. Then I only had a quarter left, so I called Uncle Fred, and he came for me. All of a sudden in the middle of downtown in all the traffic, the car just stopped! It was awful, cars honking at me as if it was my fault! Then the police came and pushed it out of the way, and I didn’t know what—where were you, Mom?”

“Come sit down. We must have been outside at the grill, so nobody heard the phone. Listen to me. As long as you weren’t hurt, nothing matters. What was the trouble with the car?”

“It had to be towed,” Fred explained. “The transmission fell out.”

“I don’t know what I would have done if Uncle Fred hadn’t come,” Megan said, almost wailing. “He took care of everything.”

A warm sensation of relief flooded through Margaret, and she looked at Fred. “You always do take care of things. Thank you,” she said. “Let’s all go in and have supper. Will you stay, Fred? The supper’s sort of wilted by now, so you will have to excuse it.”

At the table Fred, in the seat that had been Adam’s, explained the situation.

“A new transmission will cost twelve hundred dollars, they told me. There’s a question, though, whether
it’s worth putting that much into a fairly old car. You’ll need to give it some thought.”

“Fairly old!” Danny blurted. “It’s ancient. Nobody around here keeps a wreck like that. Let’s get a new car, Mom.”

Poor innocent, thought Margaret. And she said quietly, “I wish it was that easy, Danny.”

“I told Dad we needed a car. He took the good one and left us with a—a jalopse.”

“You mean ‘jalopy,’ ” Julie said.

“What’s the difference? Stop correcting me, smartass.”

“Your language, Daniel,” Margaret said.

The boy needed a man, a father.

“He’s right, though,” Megan said. “Dad took care of himself and didn’t worry about us.”

“I told him!” Danny shouted. “And then
she
said he needs one to go to work, and she said I should remember that if he didn’t work, we’d be in real trouble.”

This discussion ought to be dropped at once. Yet Margaret could not keep herself from asking, “What did your father say then?”

“Nothing.”

Fred asked quickly, “Who wants to go to the football game with me Saturday afternoon?”

Danny’s and Julie’s hands went up, and Megan declined.

“Thanks so much, Uncle Fred, but I have to work on my English paper.”

Margaret objected, “You said it wasn’t due till the middle of November. Go to the game, it’ll be fun.”

“Mom, I can’t afford to. I need straight A’s if I’m going to get anywhere with my life.”

Fred’s glance met Margaret’s.
Poor kid
, the glances said.

“Okay, another time. Why don’t you three clean up the kitchen and then go do your homework?” he suggested. “I can see that as usual your mother has a pile of papers to do. So I’m going to go home and get out of her way.”

“You’re hardly in my way, Fred,” Margaret told him.

At the front door he paused to say, “I didn’t want to mention this at the table, but really, Margaret, you need a new car, and I’ll be glad to help you out with whatever you need.”

His mild eyes seemed to be pleading with her. The genuine goodness of this man brought the start of tears to her own eyes. But there was within her a stubborn independence that forbade her, perhaps against her better judgment, to accept aid. Louise and Gilbert, even Nina, young and striving as she was, had made loving offers that she had turned down.

“I know you,” Fred said, “so if it will make you feel better, let’s say it’s a loan. You will repay me whenever you can.”

She smiled. “I know you, too. You’re a dear, and I thank you, but it is Adam’s job to take care of us. After nineteen years I think he owes a car to his wife and his three children.”

“But if he will not? Have you talked to Larkin?”

“Many times, and the answer is that Adam is giving all he can. He’s only paid for half my insurance on this car, so maybe he’ll pay half on the transmission. Maybe. In the end I’ll have to wait for the final settlement when we go to court.”

“Are you satisfied with Larkin? If not, my feelings
won’t be hurt just because I’m the one who recommended him.”

“I’m satisfied. I like him very much.”

“Good. Well, chin up, Margaret.” He kissed her cheek and went down the walk.

For a moment she watched him go. His erect height, his wide shoulders, his very stride, gave an effect of confidence and rocklike security. But on particular occasions his eyes, with their mild, thoughtful gaze, said something different. And she reflected that, although he had for so long been there on the fringe of her life, she really did not know him very well. She did not even know what his feelings toward her might now be, not that it mattered. Regardless of whatever exterior strength she had mastered, inside she was damaged and suffering; her nightly dreams were of Adam, of bereavement, betrayal, and sorrow.

On the desk in the den her work was waiting, a pile of quiz papers to be graded, the first quiz of the season, given to learn how much the class remembered of what it had studied so far. They were bright kids in this class, nice kids. This year, though, as she stood before them looking at their faces turned toward her, she often considered the possibility of concealed heartache. She had really never thought much about that until this year.

Now, to the left of the desk, she could see through the door into the living room, where Adam’s new computer and shelves of software were housed. He hadn’t asked for them. And if he does, she thought fiercely, he isn’t going to get them. They belong to my children.

Her mind was agitated. There was all this work to be done before midnight, so she must quiet her mind. Tomorrow morning she would order a transmission. It
would take a nice chunk out of her savings, even if he should pay half.

Damn him! Damn the laws that made it so hard for a woman to get what was due her!

On the table facing her desk stood the family photographs. There was more space, now that Adam’s picture and the bridal photograph had been removed, to see what remained. In front was her father’s young face; she had not known him, and yet because of her mother, she could almost believe that she had. Mom had talked about him so much, remembering him with sweetness and laughing often over funny things that had happened to them together.…

Death is easier than this, Margaret thought. There is nothing sweet or funny about this. Then, switching on the desk light, she went to work.

A
dam felt his mouth stretching into an artificial smile, his whole manner forcing a bright enthusiasm that he did not feel. In reality he was tense because the children’s visit was not going the way it should. It hadn’t gone exactly as he had wished the last time either.

“Queen Anne’s lace is in the carrot family,” he explained. “You wouldn’t think so to look at it, would you?”

“It’s ugly,” Julie said.

“That’s because it’s dried and dead. You need to see it in August when it’s blooming.”

He had taken them for a walk into the upland meadow that lay between the river and the woodland patch around the house. Randi, making lunch, liked to get them out of the kitchen.

“I think, but I’m not sure, that it was actually developed by botanists. It might be interesting to look it up.”

But they were not interested. Their gaze was fixed instead on Rufus, whose head was barely visible above
the tall brown grass through which he appeared to be swimming.

“Well,” Adam said, “I guess we should go back. Randi has probably got lunch ready.”

“Why can’t we eat outside?” Danny demanded, seeing that the picnic table was empty.

“It’s too chilly. It’s the end of November,” Adam answered.

“No, it’s not. It’s hot in the sun. I could even take my sweater off.”

“Call Rufus and come inside. Don’t complain, Danny.”

The boy had an unbecoming pout, something brand new, Adam thought.

At the lunch table Randi addressed Julie, “I’m sorry you don’t like the piano. When I saw it at a house sale, I thought of you. And it fits perfectly in the cellar. Sometime soon we plan to make a gorgeous recreation room down there.”

At Julie’s failure to respond Adam said quickly, “It was so good of you to think of Julie. I’m sure she’ll use it whenever she decides to start playing again. But we won’t rush you, Julie.”

“I don’t know,” Randi said, smiling. “I think she just doesn’t like the piano. It’s not nice enough for her. Am I right, Julie?”

A flush appeared over the girl’s cheeks, and raising her eyes toward her father, she murmured, “I just don’t want to play.”