Emerald Windows (17 page)
“Yeah?” Vinnie asked, stepping across the room until his massive frame pressed threateningly close to Nick. “Then how come when we found that paint and stuff in his room tonight, and told him to get rid of it, he told us that if we wouldn’t let him paint at home, he’d come over
here
and do it?”
“And then to find out that he was at the church meeting with you tonight,” Anna said, “and that he’s been helping you with those windows, when he should have been working with Vinnie.”
“What are you people afraid of?” Nick shouted. “It’s not like the kid’s on drugs or something. He has a hobby, for Pete’s sake.”
“You should know better than anybody,” his mother said, shaking her long finger at him. “Hobbies can turn into occupations. So maybe you’ve been able to make a living at it, but that doesn’t mean Sonny will. He can make good money working with his father, and Vinnie needs him. They had it planned out. It was God’s will. The direction He gave us for Sonny.”
“If it was God’s will, why didn’t He tell Sonny?”
“He did! But the boy decided to listen to you instead.”
Nick collapsed on the couch, wondering just how far his control was expected to stretch tonight. Anna sat down next to him, her face as intent as he’d ever seen it. He looked at her, wondering if she’d forgotten all the fights that had taken place between him and his father all those years ago, when he had been about Sonny’s age. Hadn’t she learned
anything
about human determination from the way he had conducted his own life?
“I want the best for my son, Nick,” she told him, her tone quieter as she made an earnest attempt to reason with him. “I want him to have a good work ethic, and I want him to be able to earn a living.”
Nick released a frustrated laugh and sprang off the couch, gesturing around him, at the home that proved—to him, at least—that he earned a living. “Don’t I support myself?” he asked. “Don’t I do okay? The bank that holds my mortgage doesn’t have any complaints.”
“You don’t even have a family!” Anna shouted, as though that meant the ultimate failure. “How is Sonny ever gonna support a family drawing pictures? If it could be done, wouldn’t you have done it by now?”
Nick strode across the room, rubbing the back of his neck, desperate not to explode in front of these people who meant so much to him. Trying to contain his rising wrath, he went to the window, propped a foot on the sill and looked out over the small canal behind his house. “My not marrying has nothing to do with my art.”
“It has everything to do with your art!” his mother belted out. “It was because of your art that you made the biggest mistake of your life—having an affair with a student.”
“What—?” The question whiplashed across the room as he spun around to confront that accusation on his mother’s face.
“That Brooke Martin woman. She ruined your good name once already. And don’t think we haven’t heard about the latest episodes.”
Nick opened his mouth to respond, but caught himself, bit his lip and told himself that he’d burned enough bridges tonight. It wouldn’t pay to throw his family out of his house. Regardless of their lack of confidence in him, he needed them. “First of all,” he said in a voice exceedingly calm despite the fire raging within him, “I told you seven years ago that nothing ever happened between us. I thought you, of all people, believed me.”
“This whole project is just an excuse for being with her, and I know it!” his mother shouted.
Nick held his breath for a moment and coiled his hands into fists at his sides. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he loved his mother. This was nothing new, after all. She’d been on him since the first day she’d discovered his intention to study art, rather than something more “practical.”
“Ma, I’m going to say this one time, and I hope you’ll hear it. Brooke Martin and I have never had an affair, and we’re not having one now.”
He reached out for his mother’s arm, knowing she could feel that he was shaking. “Ma, I love you, but you have never understood the first thing about me. I learned to accept that a long time ago, and it doesn’t even hurt me anymore. But don’t you do that to Sonny. He’s a great kid, and he deserves a chance to become what he wants. If that’s an electrician, fine. But if it’s not, don’t force him to give up something so important to him.”
“You’re not going to help us, are you?” Vinnie asked.
Nick turned to his brother-in-law, who stood poised, like a tiger about to attack. “Vinnie, I’m not going to help Sonny defy you in any way. I won’t condone rebellion or disrespect. But he’s
not
an adolescent. He’s nineteen years old, and if he wants to use my studio because he feels he has something in his soul that needs expressing, why can’t he? Your trying to stop him is only going to make his passion for it that much stronger. Believe me, I’ve been there.”
“I can’t believe this,” Anna shouted, tears coming to her eyes. “You’re going to put us through this all over again, aren’t you? All the fighting you and Pop did when we were kids, you’re wishing it on us, now, aren’t you?”
A fissure of pity cracked through his anger. His sister would never understand that embracing a gift from God did not amount to weakness or a betrayal of loved ones.
“I’m not wishing anything on you, Sis,” Nick said. “You’re bringing it on yourself. Just let him do it. I promise you it won’t warp him.”
Anna blotted her tears. “Let’s go, Vinnie,” she said. “Ma.”
Nick’s mother stood in the center of the floor, glaring at him with a confusion of emotions. “Give the kid some room, Ma,” he entreated. “A little paint never killed anybody.”
His mother said nothing as she turned and followed Anna and Vinnie out of the living room.
B
ROOKE’S ROOM SEEMED DARKER
than usual, perhaps because the sky was overcast, or perhaps because her heart was turbulent with emotions she couldn’t contain. Roxy, Abby Hemphill, Nick Worries and fears and more wor ries raged in her mind, making it impossible for her to sleep.
She heard the phone ring in another part of the house and wondered who could be calling so late. Roxy’s boyfriend, perhaps, wondering if she’d made it home or gotten molested and left for dead? The thought made Brooke seethe, and she sat up and wadded her pillow.
A knock sounded lightly on her door, and then it opened. Roxy peered in. “Telephone,” she said.
Brooke looked at the glowing numbers on the clock, then hurried out of bed. “Who is it?”
“Didn’t say,” Roxy told her, “but I have a strong hunch.”
As she stepped barefoot out into the hall, Brooke clearly saw the look in her sister’s eye. The look that said,
If there’s nothing between you, why is he calling at nearly midnight?
Brooke sat down on the stool next to the telephone and picked it up. “Hello?”
“It’s me.” Nick’s voice was deep, gravelly, thick with pain. “Look, I know it’s late…”
Brooke heard a click and knew that Roxy had hung up the extension. Nick paused for a moment.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I wasn’t asleep.”
She heard him sigh, sensed his struggle for the right words. “It’s been a crummy day,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking that I owe you an apology. I owe everybody an apology. I was hateful to Abby Hemphill, and I put both of us in a terrible position. It’s no wonder you left like you did.”
She frowned, realizing that she hadn’t told Nick good-bye. Her worries about Roxy had superceded everything else. “That’s not why I left, Nick. I had a phone call. My sister was in trouble and needed me.”
“Is everything all right with her?”
Brooke wilted against the counter, thankful there was someone she could confide in, if not her parents. “Oh, Nick. She was stranded at some sleazy bar. Her date left her there, and she had to call me to pick her up. I drove up there, and all these hoods were standing outside boozing it up. She had been hiding behind the building waiting for me.
“Who
is
this guy she’s dating?” Nick asked.
“Some guy named Bill. That’s all I can get out of her. I can’t understand. One minute she’s acting like I’m overreacting, the next she’s hiding behind a building in absolute terror. I’ve got to keep an eye on her from now on. She’s headed for trouble. I can see it.”
Nick was quiet for a moment, and she sensed his concern. “Why don’t you ask her to help us out at St. Mary’s? Maybe you two could get to know each other again if you worked together.”
Brooke was skeptical. “I don’t know. It’s a real sore spot with her that I have anything to do with you, Nick. Besides, she already works at City Hall and goes to school.”
“School’s out next week for spring break. And we need all the help we can get.” He released a deep breath, and she could
hear the self-deprecation in his tone. “Of course, after my diplomacy at the meeting tonight, we might not have jobs ourselves by the end of the week.”
Brooke’s voice softened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Nick. You said what needed to be said. Abby Hemphill was going to jump on us, anyway. If the chuckles I heard were any indication, I’d say a few of the people there wanted to give you a trophy.”
“That’s just it,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about her driving people away. That was terrible. People shouldn’t be laughing at her. That makes me no different than her.”
“Everyone knows you’re different.”
“No, don’t you see? If I can publicly insult her, then I’m
not
different. That bothers me a lot.”
“Well, the fact that it bothers you shows how different you are. I guarantee you, Abby Hemphill isn’t awake tonight worried that she insulted
us.
”
He was quiet for a long moment. “And then my mother and sister and brother-in-law heard about the meeting and showed up to chew me out for getting Sonny involved…and for encouraging his art. They had his life all planned out, and I interfered.”
She grew quiet, realizing they had more in common than she knew. “Well, I guess that’s the job of family. To make sure you never feel too good about yourself.”
Nick was silent for a few moments, then said, “That’s why I called you. It was selfish, calling so late, but I couldn’t help myself. You make me feel better.”
She was quiet for a moment, weighing her words, wondering if she dared go on. The memory of the night before washed over her, when he’d almost kissed her. She closed her eyes, remembering what a gentleman he had been. He was so unlike all the other men she’d known. So different. And yet here he was, beating himself up for not being different enough.
“Nick, I think you’re probably one of the most decent people I’ve ever known. And because of that, you make me feel better too.”
He didn’t answer for a moment, then he said, “I appreciate that. I really do.” Silence reigned between them again. “I’ll let you go now. Get some sleep,” he whispered.
“Yeah, you too,” she said. “And Nick? Don’t think about what Abby Hemphill and your family said to you tonight. Just remember what
I
said.”
“I will,” he said. “Good night, Brooke.”
“Good night, Nick.” She hung up the phone and sat smiling down at it. Then, feeling better about everything in general— because he had called her when he needed her—she headed back to bed.
B
ROOKE PASSED ROXY’S OPEN
bedroom door on her way back to her room. Her sister sat at her desk in a long pink gown with her bare feet crossed on the floor, examining a paper under the dim light of her lamp.
“Studying?” Brooke asked quietly.
Roxy looked up. “No, I was just going over my savings account,” she said. “I thought I’d have more money saved by now.”
Brooke went into the room and sat down on the bed. “What are you saving for?”
“My escape,” Roxy whispered. She closed her bank book and swiveled around on her chair to face her sister. There was no hostility in her voice or her expression, no belligerence in her manner. Only a gentle sadness that touched Brooke’s heart.
“Escape from what, Roxy?” Brooke asked. “Me?”
“No,” her sister said. She looked down at her gown, picked at a white dot on the fabric. “From this town. From the people here.”
