Circuit Of Heaven (32 page)

“Hi, Mom,” he said. “Smells great in here.”

“Oh, hi!” She was exuberant. “My hands are all wet,” she complained, and stood on tip-toe, offering her cheek to be kissed. “I’m almost done,” she said, returning to her potatoes. “Your father’s in the den, if you want to say hi.”

Nemo leaned on the counter and watched her work. “Why don’t you just get it out of the food dispenser, Mom?”

“Special occasions I like to make things from scratch. You know that. It just feels better.”

“If you say so.” He pointed at the pan of potatoes, the masher plunging up and down. “I like them kind of lumpy.”

“I know, dear.”

His mom’s mashed potatoes were always light and fluffy, like potato clouds. She poured some hot milk into the pan and continued mashing. “Mom, did anything strange happen before I got to the club last night? Something was up with Justine, and I’m trying to figure out what it could’ve been.”

“Maybe she had a little stagefright.”

“Come on, Mom. She was a nervous wreck. That’s not like her.”

His mom mashed more vigorously. “She was acting a little peculiarly, I suppose.”

“Was she like that when she got there?”

She stopped mashing and poured in some more hot milk, no more than a few tablespoons. “Let me think. No. It was all of a sudden. We were just talking, and she got this funny look on her face and ran off to the women’s.” She took up the masher again. “That Lila woman went to see about her.”

“What were you talking about?”

“Daddy.”

“Your father?”

“That’s right. Winston thinks he would’ve stayed out, but I don’t know. I think he would want to keep his family together. It’s a shame you never had the chance to know him.”

Nemo had heard all this before. “And that’s what upset Justine?”

“I really couldn’t say, Nemo, but that’s what we were talking about. Maybe it had nothing to do with us.” She banged the masher against the pan to knock the potatoes off, and put it in the sink. Then she put a lid on the pan. She united her apron and waved it over the stove. “All done!” She hooked her arm around her son’s and stood on tip-toe, kissing his cheek. “You’re really in love with this girl, aren’t you, Nemo?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m so happy for you. The very first time I saw you two together, I thought, what a lovely couple they make.”

“The way I remember it, you were thinking what an insensitive jerk your son is.”

“I wasn’t thinking any such thing.” She hit him on the chest with her apron and hugged his arm. It was times like this when he remembered how much he missed her.

“Mom, I was thinking last night that you and Dad have been together a long time.”

“Thirty-six years in June.”

He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. She lay her hands on top of his, still clutching the apron in her right. “What’s your secret, Mom?”

“No secret. There’ve been bad times, like everyone else—your father hasn’t always been the easiest man to live with—but you keep your family together. That’s just what you do.” They both thought the same thing at the same moment—that she hadn’t always kept her family together—and she lowered her eyes.

He took her into his arms. “It’s all right, Mom.”

“Your father would’ve gone in without me, Nemo. He never said it. But I knew he would.” She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears. “I didn’t think it would be so long. If I’d known—”

“It’s okay, Mom. Really.” He held her at arm’s length. “Can I ask you something?”

She wiped her tears away. “Of course, dear.”

“Why didn’t you go in before I was born? You had the connections to get in from the beginning. You didn’t have to wait until it was opened up.”

“I couldn’t leave Mama out there, and she absolutely refused to go in.” Her voice took on the edge it always had when the subject of her mother came up.

“Was that the issue between you two, that she was keeping you out of the Bin?”

She shook her head and shrugged off his hands. “I’d really rather not talk about that tonight, Nemo. Let’s just have a pleasant dinner. It’s not every day my son comes to see me.”

It was the same dead end he always ran into when he asked about his grandmother. “Okay, but will you tell me some other time?”

She bit her lower lip and looked at him. “You’re not a little boy anymore, are you?”

“No, Mom, I’m not.”

She gave a quick nod. “You’re right. I should tell you. It’s time you knew.”

THERE
WAS
THE
CLUNK
OF
THE
FRONT-DOOR
KNOCKER
,
AND
Nemo jumped. “I’ll get it, Mom.” He hurried to the door, hoping to get a few moments alone with Justine, but there was Lawrence, towering behind her. She looked scared to death.

Nemo held out his arms to her, and she surged into them, clutching at his shirt front, burying her face in his chest. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he said, but all she did was shake her head.

Be gentle
, Lawrence signed, and Nemo kissed her hair. “I’m just glad to see you.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

His mom came into the foyer. “Lawrence, what a pleasant surprise. Come in, Justine. Let the poor girl get in the door, Nemo. Todd! They’re here!” She smiled at them all, and Nemo’s dad came in behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, echoing her smile. “Everything’s ready,” she said. “I hope everybody’s hungry.”

THEY
SAT
DOWN
TO
PLATTERS
AND
BOWLS
OF
STEAMING
food, all “made from scratch,” even though the huge roast, ringed in carmelized carrots and onions, had never graced even a virtual cow. It came from the meat market on the square, just a couple of blocks from the house, raw and wrapped in plastic. Nemo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had pot roast. Twelve years? He’d often scorned his mother’s continued devotion to a “proper dinner” in a place where people didn’t have to eat at all. But now, as they passed the food around the table, it made sense to him.

“I enjoyed your singing last night,” his father said to Justine. “You are very talented.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her fear was still there, just below the surface. “I’m sorry I ran off, but I had urgent business.”

“I hope it went well.”

“Yes, I found out a great deal.” She held his father’s gaze for a moment, then he turned away.

Nemo was wondering what that was all about, when Lawrence said, “Mrs. Thorne, this pot roast is truly exquisite,” setting off a round of compliments and a prolonged discussion of the food, item by item. Through all this, Nemo had the sense that Justine was waiting to get back to her own agenda, whatever that might be. She was scared, but now, he guessed, she knew what she wanted to do. He didn’t think she was going to leave him. Whenever she got the chance, she’d look at him in a way that said,
I’m here, Nemo. I love you
.

When Lawrence and his mom had exhausted the subject of biscuits, Justine said to his father, “It’s funny you should mention my singing. Did you know that Nemo and I have the same favorite singer, that I even look just like her? How would you explain a coincidence like that?”

His father was clearly rattled. “That’s fascinating,” he managed.

“It’s almost like we were made for each other,” Justine said.

Lawrence cleared his throat and drawled, “Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” He held up his glass. “To Nemo and Justine,” he said. Justine held her glass high, almost defiantly, Nemo thought. They drank the toast, and she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“More potatoes, dear?” his mother asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “They’re just the way I like them.”

THINGS
RELAXED
AFTER
THAT
,
AND
NEMO
EVEN
FOUND
himself talking, entertaining them all with stories of Gene the bartender—his career as a comedian, his many wives, his sailboat. Everything was going to be all right, he told himself. As long as Justine loved him, everything would be all right.

But as Nemo’s dad was clearing away the dishes, Justine turned to his mom. “You said the other night that your father was a doctor. I was curious. What kind of doctor was he?” She was trying to make it sound like a casual question, but her lips were drawn taut, and she was holding her water glass in a deathgrip.

If his mom noticed, she didn’t let on. “He was an obstetrician,” she said. “The best one in Richmond. Very dedicated.”

Justine only nodded, though Nemo could see that she’d found out what she wanted to know, and it wasn’t good. Why should she care what kind of doctor his grandfather was? Then he remembered her dream.
Dr. Donley
. A gnawing sense of panic welled up inside him. He caught Justine’s eye, and she looked at him steadily. She looked as if she were facing execution.

He said, “I’d like to walk off some of this pot roast before dessert, Mom. Do you mind if Justine and I take a little walk around the garden?”

“Take your time, dears. I have to make the sauce for dessert anyway.”

THEY
WALKED
OUT
INTO
THE
GARDEN
.
HIS
MOTHER
TENDED
it, just like she still mashed the potatoes. Her gardening gloves were lying on the table, caked with mud. He stood exactly where he’d stood four days ago when he first saw Justine—over by the grape arbor, the wind blowing her hair across her face, turning, their eyes meeting. Everything had changed since then. Now she stood beside him, his fate in her hands.

“Did you find out what you needed to know?” he asked without looking at her.

She came around in front of him, placed her hands on his crossed arms. “Yes. I’m sorry I ran off. I had to find out the truth—for you. I wish I didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“I never tried to trick you or deceive you, Nemo. You’ve got to believe that. I didn’t know anything about this until last night.” Her voice was trembling.

He searched her eyes, his voice gentle. “Justine, I still don’t know what we’re talking about.”

She gave a quick nod, dropping her hands to her sides. “Have you ever heard of a Construct mistress, Nemo?”

He had. Construct mistresses were the subject of countless jokes when he was twelve and thirteen. (
Q: How many Construct whores does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: Construct whores screw three at a time
.) He told one to Lawrence once. Only once.

“I didn’t know if they were real,” he said.

She held her head up and looked him in the eye. The muscles in her neck were taut. She had to concentrate to form the words. “I’m real. I’m a Construct mistress. I was made to lure you into the Bin.”

He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. His vision contracted to a narrow tunnel. He tried to think of a single reason why it couldn’t be true, but all he had to do was look at her to know it was. It made sense of everything.

He turned away from her, stared again at the arbor where she’d stood, waiting for him to see her. Jesus Christ, what a fucking idiot he’d been. He remembered everyone scurrying inside, even Lawrence, so that the two of them could be alone. They all knew what was going on. Everybody but him. And Justine. She swore she didn’t know, and he believed her.

Don’t forget you love her
, Lila said. She’d known. That’s what she was, Winston’s whore. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before now. He looked at Justine, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wild with grief, and he couldn’t bear it. He looked back at the house, half expecting to see his parents’ faces leering at the windows. “My mom and dad?” he asked quietly.

“I think so.”

He was still staring at the house, but he wasn’t seeing it. He was concentrating on some point inside himself where everything was still and perfectly clear, if only he could remember it. He was being tested, everything he’d ever believed in brought to judgment. He tried to imagine how Justine must feel—to be used like that, tricked with a phony life. She didn’t have to confess this to him at all, and yet she had.

Nemo looked into her eyes. She was bracing herself for the worst. Her pain was right there on the surface. He could reach out and touch it.
So that they may choose
, Jonathan had said. “Does this change how you feel about me?” he asked her.

Her mouth came open, stunned at the question. Obviously it hadn’t even occurred to her. “No, of course not. I thought you…”

He reached out and took her arms, ran his hands up and down them. “I told you. Nothing’s going to change how I feel about you. I love you, Justine.”

She threw her arms around him, and he held her close. “I love you, Nemo. I will always love you.”

They clung to each other. He was afraid—terrified—and a knot of anger gripped his chest when he thought about how he’d been deceived, but all that would have to wait. He held her in his arms, and he never wanted to let her go. He’d spent a single day thinking he might never hold her again. He never wanted to spend another one.

“We have a lot to talk about,” she said after a while, and he laughed ironically.

“You could say that.”

JUSTINE
AND
NEMO
WALKED
OVER
TO
THE
FOUNTAIN
, a boy endlessly pouring water out of a jug into a huge shell, and sat on the rim. Like the house, it looked as if it’d been there for centuries. Justine trailed her fingers in the water, remembering a ring she used to wear on her right index finger, a man’s ring, gold, with a single diamond. She didn’t know why she thought of it now. Memories had been bubbling to the surface all day, just like Lila said they would.

She looked into Nemo’s eyes. She could see he was still rattled, sorting things out the way he did, but he was still here, still beside her. She could scarcely believe it. Ever since Lila told her what she was, she’d braced herself for losing him. She wished he would say something, anything. Just talk to her. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure out what I am before I did,” she said. “You know more about the Bin than I do.”