Keeping Secrets (14 page)

“We were, but Arnold insisted we get back for this confounded party. I was happy with my feet in the creek and a fishing pole in my hand, but you know how it is when duty calls.”

“I can't feature you with your feet in the creek, Lyla.”

“Actually, it wouldn't matter where I was as long as it is away from here. I mean, it gets so hot in the summer. The kids get cranky and drive the nursemaid crazy, who in turn drives me insane.…”

Emory soon returned—he'd been sidetracked by some business associate or another—and once the party got under way it was a great deal more fun than I'd anticipated. The orchestra was one of the best I'd heard, and someone said they played from time to time at the Top O' the Town at the St. Anthony's. We went through waltzes and polkas, fox trots, and several variations of the tango. Up to then, I still hadn't tried it, though I had seen the dance demonstrated several more times since the day I suspected Emory and Aegina were tea dancing at the Menger.

I was into a second goblet of champagne when a man named Terence Brown approached and Asked Emory's permission for my hand. “Oh, but you see, I've never—” I stammered, for suddenly I was afraid of this man I didn't know.

“It's quite easy, just follow me,” he insisted, and after a few moments his open, friendly manner put me at ease. So many people were dancing, the orchestra repeated several melodies with the tango rhythm. I stayed out there with Terence, enjoying it more and more as I gained confidence in my ability to perform the dance, following him with new twists and steps and twirls, really forgetting myself and allowing his compliments to persuade me to relax and experiment with the endless variety of little dips and sways. All of these certainly fell within the realm of propriety, and even more so in my case because there was no slit in my evening gown to allow completely free movement.

Suddenly I twirled around to see Emory on the floor with a woman I did not know, and it was obvious he was quite familiar with the dance. My partner noticed my sudden stiffening and asked, “Something wrong, Mrs. Cabot?”

“Oh no, it's just—maybe I'm a little tired. Let's sit down.”

All the way back to the table I speculated. So what, if he knows the tango?

Everybody else knows it nowadays.

Why didn't he invite me to the floor?

Maybe Terence beat him to it.

No, he didn't come by till the second time … or was it the third?

But then, it's only a dance after all. Silly.

No, the tango is more than just a dance.…

“Are you sure you are all right?” my partner asked.

“Certainly. Fine.”

“I didn't mean to exhaust you. My wife and I dance quite often, you see, and I'm accustomed to going on for hours and hours. We have a player piano at home, and—”

“No, really. You were marvelous out there. Thank you.”

“I'll freshen your drink.”

Before he returned, Emory came back and sat down. “I didn't know you could tango,” I said.

“I noticed you cut a pretty good figure on the floor yourself.”

“I've learned by watching other people.”

“That's how I learned. It's easy.”

“Did you go dancing a lot before I came here?”

“As a matter of fact I did. Everybody dances in this city, and when things were sane in Mexico City the parties made this one look like a small neighborhood get-together.”

I was about to ask him if he danced with Aegina very much, but it probably would have been a fairly obvious question, so I was just as glad that Terence Brown came back and asked to sit with us for a while.

“I'm a poor bachelor tonight. My wife's visiting her parents up in Newport. I left her off there when we got back from Europe.”

I was interested in how he found conditions abroad, and he said, “Remarkably the same in many places. In Vienna the theater and opera go on as though nothing could interfere with them, and in Paris it's as crowded as ever. Lots of reservists are over there on leave right now, so the sidewalk scene is a little drab, with all those uniforms. And of course you notice a great difference when you visit the Louvre—so many of the art works and paintings have been removed for safety.

“Train service all over Europe is sporadic, and in many places there are no dining cars anymore because the armies have confiscated them for carrying troops. But all in all, it was easier to cope than I expected.”

“From what I understand, it's the same in Mexico,” I said, glancing at Emory. “That is, wherever the fighting is not going on, it isn't so bad—”

“Ah, Mexico … I haven't been there in years. I wouldn't dare go down right now, would you?”

When I mentioned Emory had business interests down there, more in an attempt at drawing him into the conversation than anything else, the man could not hide his surprise. “What in?” he asked.

“A few real estate holdings here and there,” said Emory.

“Well, I must say that calls for raw courage. I'd have run when old Diaz got booted out in 1910. He was one of a kind when it came to courting foreign investors, wasn't he?”

Emory smiled wryly and drew on his cigar. “I certainly hope not.”

There were no more tangos played that evening, though soon the Tetzels led into a special anniversary waltz that was followed by several more lilting tunes. Emory moved me smoothly and confidently through the one-two-three rhythms, making for a merry finale to the party close to midnight. I'd forgotten the bad weather, which had worsened through the party. Rain was coming down like a barrage of splinters, and was causing quite a bottleneck of people at the main door, trying to get their gear together before braving the storm. The poor girl who was taking care of coats and hats was having an awful time in all the confusion. My heart went out to her as people grew impatient. She was a plucky little thing with long straight red hair flowing down around her white uniform cap, straight bangs in front, and a kind of elfin face with wide brown eyes and a few freckles across her nose. She couldn't find Emory's despised top hat, and, while he could not have cared less what happened to it, I was in charge of returning it to the rental store.

“I know I can find it if you will just go back in and wait a few moments,” she said nervously. “I'll bring it to you when the crowd clears out.”

Tetzel appeared. “Something wrong?”

“My confounded hat got lost in the shuffle, I guess,” said Emory.

“Well, Camille, what have you done with—”

“I knew you looked familiar,” Emory interrupted, looking at the girl.

“Allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Cabot,” Tetzel offered with surprising graciousness. “This is Camille Devera. She began as my secretary at the bank recently, and extended herself to help us tonight. Camille, my dear, I think some of the things got taken to the room behind the kitchen for lack of other space. Why don't you check, and I'll tend to matters here.”

I wasn't sure whether his civility in the awkward situation was supposed to impress us, or he wanted to assure Camille she stood a rank above the hired servants. His gaze fell upon her as she walked away, then he turned to handing out hats and gloves himself as we chatted with people around us. When Camille returned, Emory's hat in her hand, Tetzel took it from her and remarked, “You see, Miss Devera can always be counted upon to come through in a situation.” She avoided his eyes and went back to work.

Nathan was waiting outside with a big umbrella. When we were inside the car Emory told him about seeing Camille.

“I'm not surprised,” he said, over his shoulder. “She pops up everywhere.”

“Camille delivers papers to our office for Tetzel now and then, and she is sweet on Nathan,” Emory told me with a side glance.

“She's just a squirt, a bratty kid. She drives me crazy,” said Nathan.

“Well I think it's a good thing for a young girl to learn a trade,” I said. “With prices soaring all the time, it doesn't hurt either to have a job now and then on the side, like helping out at parties. I wish I'd known how to do something at her age.”

For the rest of the ride home we all stared at the nearly invisible road ahead. The rain was gushing harder and harder—our share of the severe flood which had hit Galveston earlier, testing its famous seawall.

Later, as we got into bed, I asked Emory if he noticed how Tetzel looked at Camille.

“No, how?”

“Oh, a little too … interested … I think.”

“Aw, she's just a kid.”

“I know, still …”

“You can't put a man behind bars for his thoughts.”

“I've known plenty who ought to have been put in jail for their deeds.”

“Why should you worry about that girl? I'm sure she can look after herself, and I'd be amazed if Tetzel had any but an aboveboard interest in her.”

“I hope you're right. Women on their own don't have much of an advantage when it comes to—”

“The hell they don't,” he said suddenly and rose from the bed. I thought he'd misinterpreted the remark somehow. I searched for something to say while he stood at the window, watching the rain. I had never felt the heat of his anger rise so quickly or unexpectedly.

“Usually it's hard for a woman to find a decent man unless he happens to come along before she leaves home,” I began nervously, but he interrupted with a sharp turn. His whole face was in darkness, but I will never forget the frozen glare in his eyes.

“My mother didn't exactly fit into your picture of downtrodden females, did she?”

“Oh, I'd forgotten … I wasn't thinking about her,” I said meekly.

“I know you weren't, but I think about her, and what she did to me. It is on my mind a lot, as a matter of fact.”

“I … I didn't know you were so bitter.”

“There is a lot you don't know about me. When you decide to pick up your banner for all womankind, I'll thank you to remember there is another side of the coin.”

“Oh Emory, I'm all too aware of that. Just look what you did for me. Listen, I'm sorry for what I said about Camille. It was probably just my imagination anyway,” I said gently, but he was not thinking of Camille. He was lost in a poignant memory of his mother. He paused before continuing softly.

“She didn't love my daddy. I was the only one in the family she ever pretended to care about … but she left me behind like all the rest. I was just a little runt then, you know.… I waited for days and days, certain she'd come back for me, but she never did. My brother said I was crazy, that she never loved me either, and I hated him for that. He was twice my size, but it took three of them to pull me off him. My daddy just stood by and did nothing.”

He took in a long breath. “After that I vowed I'd have nothing more to do with any of them, and that I'd go off one day and find her, and prove to them all she did love me, that she'd go away with me and stay with me … forever.…”

As his voice drifted off, I measured my words carefully. “It's too bad you weren't able to find her before she died. You might have been right. She may have had reasons for her ways that you never knew.”

“Yes, it is very unfortunate her untimely death kept me from finding out.”

“I'm so sorry for you … I had no idea.…”

For a time he said nothing. Finally he shrugged and remarked, “Let's forget it. There's no use in talking about it. It was all over … long ago.”

I pitied him as he stood there, looking so alone. “Come back to bed,” I asked him finally, and when he did his body was shaky and moist. We held each other fast as two young children, afraid of the dark.

By morning he seemed himself again, though he was a little withdrawn at breakfast. Yet afterward he and Nathan went off together, talking shop, so I supposed he'd shoved it to the back of his mind again—there was little else he could do.

I couldn't quite shake off the doldrums myself, however. I decided to pay a call to Woody. Maybe he could cheer me up. The sky was dull gray, threatening more rain, and thunder rumbled like cannon in the distance as I walked down the windy street. I was expecting Woody to be in the parlor having tea, but found him instead out in his dooryard, cutting back the queen's-wreath.

“The storm last night destroyed the blooms and, anyway, it's time to cut it back,” he said. “It will grow just that much faster until the frost nips it. Get back Scoop, don't want to get in the way of this hoe, old boy … and how are you this morning, Mrs. Cabot?” Then he stopped to look at me. “Not quite up to par, eh?”

I leaned against the fence. “Maybe it's just the weather. I thought I'd come by and get you to cheer me up.”

“I think I can do that, as a matter of fact. I've had a letter from Johnny. He has assured me he is enrolled in school for the fall semester.”

“That's a relief. Maybe by the semester's end, the war will be over.”

“I certainly hope so. And not only for Johnny's sake, although he is my main concern. I've been around long enough to know that no one really wins a war. A few miles of real estate change hands and they term it a ‘victory.' It hardly begins to do justice to such a powerful word.”

“And people over here are foolish to talk about taking sides, don't you think?”

“Like the President says, it is our place to be rock-ribbed Americans, first.”

I smiled at his strong British accent, which he habitually exaggerated at times like these. His words made me feel better about at least one thing bothering me—Emory's business with the Germans. I couldn't wait to tell him Woody's opinion.

“Of course if the Germans and Austrians continue with their submarine warfare and the British continue with their confiscation of neutral ships, we'll find ourselves right in the middle of it.”

“What if we threw in our lot with the Centrals?”