A Fine Imitation (23 page)

“No, not until you're ready.” His toothy grin mirrored her own. He would likely have agreed to anything at that moment.

“We'd better get back inside. If Bea notices we're out here alone, she'll never let me forget it. Oh!” She pulled off his jacket and handed it back to him. “Almost forgot.”

He let go of her hand to put his jacket back on. She smoothed her hair, and they snuck back in the door together. As soon as they neared the dance floor, he swept her into his arms and spun her, both of them dizzy with their shared secret.

The five of them danced until Vera was ready to collapse from exhaustion. She didn't realize until she got outside that she'd gone hoarse from shouting over the music and laughing. The boys walked them to the boardinghouse, the five of them one joyful, messy unit on the frozen streets.

Vera caught Bea's eye. They beamed at each other, but an unexpected lump rose in Vera's throat. In only a few months, she had made more happy memories with Bea than with almost any other person in her life, her family included. She had finally found people who cared about her and loved her for who she was, not her name or connections. Certainly Cliff had made that clear, but if Vera had never met Bea, none of what they'd shared would have been hers. Most of all, Bea had given her a certain kind of freedom. A freedom Vera feared she would never know again if she married Arthur.

After breakfast on Sunday morning, Vera had a maid pack a basket with a lunch and blankets to take out to the beach. She dressed in her bathing suit and robe and carried her parasol down to the sand. The Litchfield boys, with their governess, Pauline, accompanied her. Though they laid their blankets a few feet from hers, the boys immediately ran to the water. Pauline trudged after them, leaving Vera on her own.

She watched the boys kick sprays of water at each other and laughed a little under her breath at their puppyish energy. Pauline, eyes pinched against the brightness of the sun, looked less enthralled. She yawned audibly. In Vera's childhood, she had had two governesses, both selected by her mother for their solemn demeanor and unforgiving adherence to the rules. Perhaps this, in addition to her distant husband, had fed Vera's reluctance to have children. Why become a mother and then hand her children off to someone else? Someone who might be loving and concerned, but who might be as indifferent as Pauline was to the Litchfield boys? Yet someone of her position in society would be expected to hire help. Mothering alone was unthinkable. So Vera continued to put it off, in hopes of a solution that was unlikely to come.

Vera had just turned her attention from the boys to her
McClure's
magazine when a basket dropped into the soft sand beside hers. She squinted into the sun to see Hallan standing above her, wearing a black-and-white-striped bathing costume. Why had she actually expected to have a few moments to herself?

“May I join you?” he asked.

She turned back to her magazine. “If you like.”

He sat on the sand near her feet. “Lovely weather today.”

“Don't you need a blanket to sit on?”

“I've got one in the basket,” he said. “The sand feels good, though. Warm.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you going in the water?” he asked.

“I doubt it.” Her robe slipped from her knee, and she pulled it back up to cover her leg.

“What's the fun of going to the beach if you're not going to swim?”

She set the magazine in her lap. “Usually it's very peaceful. Quiet. Nice to read in the sun.”

“But you're not in the sun.” He pointed to her parasol. “Afraid you'll melt?”

“Will we ever have a conversation where you don't tease me, Mr. Hallan?”

He shook his head. “I expect not.”

After a pause, she inhaled deeply. “I hope it hasn't been too unpleasant a trip. I know you were glad to escape another evening with my mother and her questions. To say nothing of Arthur.”

“The things they asked me…they're nothing you haven't asked me.”

“That's true. But I hope I've been a little kinder, anyhow.”

“At times you are.”

She blushed, thinking of their encounters, both at the Angelus and in the city. Had she said anything friendly to him, after he saved her from eating alone? When he took her dancing? She had at least complimented his paintings. She resolved to be less prickly with him. He did love to tease her, but it was harmless, really. Why should she be so offended that he paid her some attention? She certainly did not get enough from her husband.

As if reading her thoughts, Hallan said, “How did you end up married to someone like Arthur? I hope you'll forgive me for saying so, but he doesn't seem like—he's not someone I can picture courting a pretty young girl.”

Vera stared at her hands in her lap, taken aback by the question. “We met here, actually.”

“On the beach? Arthur in a bathing suit, that's even more difficult to imagine.”

She smiled. “No, not on the beach. My father worked with him on some property investments. Father invited him to stay one weekend. Probably with the hope that he would take some interest in me.”

“And he did.”

“Yes. He was married before, but she died after only a few years.” She sighed. “I am a second wife.”

“That explains the age difference.”

“He visited on the weekends that summer and asked me to marry him later that year.” She looked out at the waves. “It all seems so very fast now.”

Hallan ran his fingers through the sand. “So, did you come here every summer when you were a child?”

“I did.”

“Brothers? Sisters?”

“No, only me.”

“Sounds a bit lonely.”

They watched as the Litchfield boys splashed in a tide pool, calling to each other about the shells they found. The governess stood ankle deep in the water. A crowd of young people walked down the beach, bumping into one another and laughing. An ache swelled in her chest. She looked at Hallan's profile, the graceful angles of his face. “It can be lonely. Yes.”

“I'm going for a swim,” Hallan said finally. He stood and offered Vera a sandy hand. “Would you like to go?”

“I shouldn't. I don't have my bathing cap.”

“So your hair will get wet.” He squinted at her. “Is this like the roof? Do you need some liquid encouragement? I'm afraid I left my flask in my room.”

She stood. “If I look a mess at the picnic this afternoon, I blame you.”

He laughed and started for the water. After a slight hesitation, she slipped off her robe and followed. All the fuss over short skirts, and she never hesitated for a moment to wear a bathing suit that barely covered her knees. She might as well be in her undergarments. But everyone else on the shore was dressed the same, even the Litchfields' governess. And it was the same suit she had worn for years, without concern. So why did she feel so exposed now?

The water hit her legs and stung with an unexpected coolness. Hallan waded in to his waist, then turned to wave her closer.

“You're going to have to come a little farther out if you want to actually swim,” he said.

“It's cold,” she cried. “I'm going back.”

He struggled back through the water to where she stood and took her hand. “You'll get used to it. Come on.”

They waded together out into the ocean, until the water hit their chests. Vera feared she might freeze, as the temperature was far colder than she expected. But she did not want to turn back, not really. She did not want to let go of Hallan's hand.

“It really is too cold. Look at me, are my lips blue?” she asked with a laugh.

He moved closer, inspecting her face with a mock-serious look. “Not yet. But I'll be happy to keep an eye on them for you.”

She shivered. He stood only a few inches away, too close. “Let's go back. We can warm up in the sun.”

He pulled the hand he held from the water and rubbed it in both of his. Still staring at her fingers, he spoke slowly and deliberately. “You'll be all right. I won't let you freeze.”

The hair on her arms rose. She opened her mouth to speak, but could not think what to say. A voice in her head begged her to wrap her arms around him, to kiss the little droplets of salt water from his parted lips. He moved another step closer, but she turned and yanked her hand from his.

“I'm sorry, I have to get out,” she called over her shoulder.

“Wait.” He splashed behind her, fighting his way through the water. “Wait, is something wrong?”

She went back to her chair and flung on her robe, then rolled the blanket and tossed it in the basket. Hallan caught up to her and stood behind her.

“I'm sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I need to get back, you do, too. If we're late for the picnic, Mother will be beside herself.”

“I thought it wasn't until two.” He picked his watch up from his basket. “It's only eleven.”

“Yes, but I've got to change, and—”

He laid a hand on her forearm. “Vera, don't—”

“Please.” She looked into his sea-blue eyes, entreating him to understand, hoping he would not make her say it. “Please. Excuse me.”

He nodded, and withdrew his hand. “Of course. If you need to go.”

“I do.”

She fumbled through the rest of packing the basket, grabbed the parasol, and trudged back up to the house. Her heart sank at the thought of what she had been tempted to do. Where had the notion to kiss him come from? She recalled the feeling she had when he first arrived, of the hand on her shoulder holding her back. The sensation had faded so gradually. She only noticed there, on the beach, that it was completely gone.

At the house, Vera bathed and put on a mint-green sundress for the picnic. By the time she went out into the garden, the others were already assembled, along with Poppy and her two girls. The little ones ran off to play on the lawn, leaving the adults sitting in a circle in weather-beaten wicker chairs.

Vera noted that Hallan had taken care to choose a seat near her father, away from her mother and Arthur. Of course, that meant Poppy fell into the seat on Hallan's other side and began chattering away. Vera avoided his eyes and found a chair on the other side of the circle. She distracted herself by telling Caroline about the morning at the beach, reporting the boys' excitement at finding a whole conch shell.

A maid poured lemonade and passed watercress sandwiches, but the heat of the day caught up to Vera despite the cool food and drink. Vera's mother engaged Caroline in conversation, leaving Vera on her own. She excused herself to go inside under the pretense of getting her fan. She wanted to get out of the heat, but also to spare herself the possibility of Hallan approaching her. As she walked toward the house, her mother called after her to ask one of the cooks to send out tea.

She found the fan on her dressing table, but lingered a moment, wiping her face down with a wet cloth. After reapplying her powder, she headed back down the hall toward the kitchen to inquire about the tea. Hushed voices coming from an alcove near the library caught her attention. Against her better judgment, she crept down the side hall, careful to stay close to the wall. A man and a woman spoke in low tones. Were Caroline and Walter having a disagreement? No, it was not their voices.

“…terribly romantic. Julius hasn't looked my way in years, but you…I'm drawn to you…last night…so hard to resist…” Poppy, simpering and girlish.