Love Comes Calling (18 page)

“I'm sorry. Are the boys . . . ?”

“They're out.”

Thank goodness! I went through to the kitchen and begged a piece of toast from the cook, along with a hard-boiled egg. She followed me back into the dining room with a teapot and poured me a blessedly full cup once I'd sat down at the table.

As I rolled my egg across the tablecloth, Mother frowned at me. I supposed she wanted me to give it a polite whack with the tip of my knife, but I'd seen Irene do her eggs this way and I liked the feel of it under my palm as the shell finally gave way.

“About Griffin . . .”

I paused in my rolling. Had she heard us last night?

“It was very thoughtful of you to extend an invitation to him. I don't believe the Phillipses have summered away from Boston since Maude died. I just want to take this opportunity to say I've been heartened by the changes I've seen in you lately.”

I felt a twinge of guilt knowing she thought I was helping out at the orphan asylum. “About my job, Mother. I should really tell you—”

“I should tell
you
, Ellis, how proud I am of you.” An actual, honest-to-goodness smile curved her lips. “I don't get the chance to say that very often. I truly feel you've started to turn a corner. Keep it up. That's all I wanted to say.”

I was letting her believe something that wasn't true, but I'd tried so long to make her proud of me, I just couldn't bear to dash her hopes again. It would be something she could remember after I was gone: that one day I was good back when I'd traded places with Janie when I was little and that one time I'd made her proud when I'd worked at the orphan asylum. I smiled back at her and then started peeling the shell away from my egg.

“Oh—and the boys wanted to go swimming today. Maybe you and Griffin could take them.”

“No!”

Her brows flew up into her forehead.

If King Solomon were still in the area, then the only safe place for Griff was here, inside the house. “
I
can take them, but I don't think Griff would want to go. He's . . . been working so hard. I'm sure all he wants to do this weekend is sleep.”

“Goodness.” Mother drew her sweater tight at her throat. “I hope he takes good care of himself. Sometimes fatigue can turn into ague. Maybe that's why he's not up yet.”

He was still sleeping? I was of a mind to stomp upstairs and rattle his door to wake him up, but I was hungry. Apparently early morning walks required a lot of energy. I devoured the
egg, ate the toast, and downed my tea. If I was lucky, I'd have an hour or two of peace before the boys returned.

I wasn't lucky. I was never lucky.

Just as I'd settled down on my bed with a magazine, the boys barreled into the house and up the stairs. Someday they were going to punch a hole right through the old floor.

The footsteps paused at my door. “Auntie Ellis?”

I put a finger in the crease of my magazine and closed it. “She's not here.”

“She is too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Ellis!” Julia pushed open the door with a bang. And a frown. “Where have you been all morning?”

“Sleeping. And eating breakfast.” And enjoying myself.

“The boys want to go swimming.”

“Isn't it almost lunchtime?” Or near enough that there wasn't time left to go swimming.

She sighed. “After, then.”

I'd come up with some excuse to keep Griffin here at the house. And at least then I'd have time to get the sand out of my hair . . . before it got replaced by more sand. The boys were hopping from foot to foot as if they'd got some mischief hidden in their pockets. They probably had. “I heard the cook was baking pie for lunch.”

“Pie!” They raced off down the stairs.

“Really, Ellis. I'd think you'd be more helpful.”

Helpful! I'd been helpful all week long, trying to work
Janie's job and keep Griff from getting killed. If I were any more helpful, I might well help myself to an early grave. “Some people come to the shore for a break.”

“Yes. And I'm one of them!”

If she hadn't married one of those down-on-their-fortune Otises, then maybe she'd have been able to hire a nurse for the children and get all the breaks she wanted.

“Clarence was going to come this weekend, but then he changed his mind.”

He always seemed to be changing his mind about coming to things.

“Really, I'm just about at my wits' end. And you of all people ought to be the person to help me.”

Me
of all people? She said it like I was to blame for her entire life. I was about to get mad, but then I realized how drawn and tired she looked. “I already said I'd take them after lunch, and I meant it.”

“Thank you.” Her sigh seemed to drain all the energy from her body. She turned and went along back down the hall. But then Griff came to take her place. He was in his shirtsleeves, with his suspenders hanging from his waist. Sleep had mussed his hair, freeing it from the confines of pomade to hang about his face. He scooped it back with a hand. “There are some . . . uh . . . turtles in the bathtub. . . . I just thought someone ought to know.”

The boys were waiting at the entrance to the dining room at lunchtime like a pair of wriggly puppies, but Mother wasn't about to let them pass. “I've decided on a picnic for our lun
cheon.” There was much exultation from the boys and a frown from Julia. An offer to help carry something from Griff and a polite, but firm, refusal from my mother. “Ellis said you've been fatigued lately.”

Now I understood why we were picnicking! Mother's cure for everything was a big dose of fresh air. Preferably accompanied by a stiff wind to drive it deep into the lungs. I took up a blanket to carry.

Griff's brow was wrinkled in puzzlement. “She did?”

Standing behind Mother, I was bobbing my head like some organ-grinder's monkey.

His brow cleared, though he gave me a skeptical glance. “I have been working awfully hard. . . .”

“Probably better, then, that you stayed in your room this morning and had a good rest.” That was quite a concession from a woman who believed the righteous had no business sleeping past six in the morning. Mother was gesturing for Father to take the hamper from Griff. “Julia? Why don't
you
take the boys swimming after lunch? I have to go into town and that way Ellis can stay here in case Griffin has need of something.”

“Why do I have to—”

Mother's steely-eyed glance put an end to Julia's complaint.

Griff pulled the blanket from my arms and started after the picnic hamper, which was making its way to the shore in my father's hand. We were accompanied along the way by shrieks from the boys, who'd run off down the path.

Griff couldn't be outside. This wasn't what I'd planned at all! “Wait!”

He turned while the others kept on going. “Forget something?”

“
King Solomon
.”

“What?”

“You know.
Last night
. What if they recognize us?”

“They're probably back in the city by now.”

“But what if they aren't? What if he's still here?”

“Don't worry. I'll keep an eye out. And anyway, that's why I . . . well . . . one of the reasons why . . .” Was he blushing? “King never really saw my face. We were too busy . . .”

Too busy. That was one way to refer to it!

“And really, I ought to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“It wasn't very proper of me.”

“Proper?”

“Taking advantage of the situation like that.”

As I followed him down the path, I couldn't quite help being a little sorry he was sorry. Deep down, in a part of me I was supposed to be ignoring, I'd been kind of hoping he'd kiss me at least once more before we left.

I spent the picnic on the lookout for King and suspicious men of any sort. I didn't see any. And by the time I'd finally decided there were none, Father and Mother were taking a stroll along the beach, Griff had found a football from somewhere that he was tossing around with Lawrence, and the boys were eating the last piece of pie.

That's what you got for trying to keep someone from being killed.

At least in Hollywood I wouldn't have to do things like try to stop someone from being murdered. Maybe only for
pretend, once in a while. But I'd have real-life experience now, which would be a good thing to go along with my talent of crying at nothing at all and my ability to laugh on cue, with great hilarity. I tried one out. It was extremely gratifying when the boys looked up as if they'd missed out on a joke.

Julia frowned. She was always frowning. “Is there something funny? About being stuck out here on Buzzards Bay with two small boys? For the entire summer?”

Looking at Julia's face, I rather thought not. “No.” Now I'd gone and done it. She was crying. “I'm sorry, Julia, I didn't think—”

“You never do. That's the problem with you, Ellis. You never think about anyone other than yourself!”

Well, that wasn't true at all. I thought about other people, didn't I? I thought about Jack and how to get him to tell me the things I needed to know. But I suppose I couldn't really count that, since I was doing that as Janie. I thought about Griff and how to keep him from giving me his pin, even though if I were staying I might just change my mind . . . so I shouldn't probably think about him at all really. Except to keep him from getting killed. Who else was there to think of? And why should I spend time thinking about people who didn't think very much of me? “Do you mean to say . . . am I terribly selfish?”

“Ellis!” The word came out as something between a laugh and a cry. “Are you really asking me to tell you what I think about you? After I just told you that you never think of anyone but yourself?”

Was I?

“Just . . . go away.”

Well, I was planning to. And soon!

O
n the way back to the house as we crossed the dunes, we saw a car filled with men drive down the lane. One of them tossed something out the window. When we came up to the road, we saw the stub of a cigar, its tip still aglow, lying in the road. Father ground it into the sand but not before it brought back all the things I'd worried about over lunch.

When Julia told the boys to go put on their swimming trunks, I knew I had to think fast. “Why don't we all spend the afternoon at home?” I walked into the parlor and sat down on that mouse-eaten chair just to make sure they understood what I was saying.

Julia and Mother looked down at me in horror. “With the boys?”

“Lawrence can play with them.”

When they looked in his direction, Lawrence mumbled something about taking the boat around the bay and ducked outside.

“At
home
?” The boys made it sound as if I'd proposed to torture them.

“Just for the afternoon.” Until it was time to catch the train.

Julia looked as if she was going to kill me. Maybe the murder I ought to have been worried about was my own.

“We could . . . play sardines!”

My mother was adjusting her hat. “You can do what you want to. In any case, your father and I are expected at the club.”

“And I'm going along with them.” Julia was already practically pushing them both out the door.

“Sardines?” Marshall was looking at the door with longing. “But Auntie Ellis, it's a great day for swimming.”

“But I have to start packing so I'm ready to go back to the city tonight. Now, who's going to hide?”

The boys debated between themselves until they nearly came to blows.

“I'll hide.” Griff sent me a wink.

“We'll count to a hundred, then.”

“By tens?” Marshall looked hopeful.

“By ones. But . . . Griff hasn't been here in a long time. Maybe we should count to five hundred instead.”

“Five hundred?! I can't count that high. We'll be here
forever
!”

I looked up at Griff. “Find someplace easy.”

“No!” Marshall was indignant. “He's supposed to make it really hard!”

As I closed my eyes, I held a hand up to them, making sure there was a crack between my fingers so I could peek now and then. “One, two . . .”

I wished I'd thought to sit down before I'd decided to count to five hundred. We'd had to start over twice so far. I wasn't quite sure, but I thought Griff might have gone upstairs. I'd heard a creak or two out in the front hall.

“Four hundred and ninety-four, four hundred and ninety-seven—”

“It's not four hundred and ninety-seven, it's four hundred and ninety-four.” Marshall took after his mother. He was always quite certain he was right.

“We already said four hundred . . . and . . . four.” And so did Henry.

“We said that back a long time ago. Now it's four hundred and ninety-five.”

If I didn't step in, we'd be counting to five hundred all day. “Four hundred and ninety-six.”

They counted the rest of the way along with me, then shouted five hundred in triumph. And only . . . I looked at the clock on the mantel . . . forty-five minutes after we'd begun.

I clapped. “Go find him!”

Henry started for the stairs, but Marshall stopped him. “He's not upstairs.”

“How would
you
know?” Henry asked with all the disdain of a four-year-old.

“Because if he'd gone up the stairs, we'd have heard him. Come on, let's go check in the kitchen.” They raced around the corner, leaving me in blessed peace . . . and with the question of where exactly Griff had disappeared to. I crept up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, stepping only on the side of the treads nearest the wall. And I skipped the fifth step completely.

The hall was another matter.

I slunk down the first five feet, then hopped from one side of the hall to the other to avoid creaks. I pushed open the door to the first bedroom with a finger.

No Griff.

I picked my way farther down the hall to Lawrence's room. I crept inside, stooping to look under the bed. Then I opened the door to his wardrobe, pushing aside his shirts, running my hand along the back.

Nothing.

I went on to Julia's room and bent to look under the bed. There was nowhere else to hide, so I turned to leave, but then I spied an old Eton sea captain's locker. It had been a favorite hiding place back when Lawrence and I had been younger and the house had been filled with our friends. I remembered showing it to Griff one rainy summer day when we'd played cards all morning and had nothing else to do that afternoon but play sardines. Back then, we'd both been much smaller. But maybe . . . I tiptoed over and threw up the lid.

He smiled up at me. “What took you so long?”

“They're never going to find you here.”

“I don't care if
they
find me. I was hoping
you'd
find me.” He shifted, stretching his legs out over the side of the chest, making room for me. Then he held up a hand. “Come on in.”

I sat beside him, tucking my skirt around my knees and then leaning back against the chest and hooking my legs over the side too.

He sent me a glance. “Do you remember when you first showed me this trunk?”

“They never did find us, did they?”

“And when we finally gave up and went looking for them, they were gone.”

I smiled as I remembered. “They were out in the rain, mucking for clams.”

“And then they all came down with a summer cold.”

I had forgotten that part of it. We'd spent the better part of a week, just the two of us, sailing in the bay, swimming, and playing tennis. We talked over memories for a while as we waited for the boys to find us.

Griff leaned back against the side of the chest. “We were quite a pair. That's what my mother always said. You always talked me into doing more than I should have.”

“And you somehow always talked me into doing less than I wanted to.”

“I'm glad you invited me here.” He shifted again and stretched an arm across the back of the trunk. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” When he looked at me like that, I had to remind myself I was leaving. And now, after the previous night, I would have to write him an even longer letter in order to explain my going.

“About last night . . .” He knocked my knee with his. “I'd meant to tell you what a fine girl I think you are and how I've never met anyone like you and . . .” He'd been looking at our knees, but now he turned and looked into my eyes.
Deep
into my eyes. And then he put a hand up and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “I meant to tell you how glad I am to know you and
then
ask if I could kiss you. The way it happened wasn't what I'd wanted for our first kiss.”

First
kiss? Did that mean he planned a second one? If he did, then I really shouldn't be sitting next to him in an old
sea chest, should I? But then why couldn't I seem to get my legs to move?

“What I'd hoped would happen is . . .” His hand cupped my neck and he leaned close.

My visions of Hollywood disintegrated as I closed my eyes and lifted my lips to his.

“Ellis!” My sister called out from downstairs.

I jumped.

The front door slammed. “Ellis?”

“What?” I stood and scrambled out of the trunk. What was she doing here? She wasn't supposed to be back until later.
Much
later!

“Ellis Eton!”

Maybe . . . maybe I'd just pretend I wasn't here. No one had found us. We could still play sardines.

But now there were footsteps on the stairs. Too late! And Griff had already come to stand beside me and . . . suddenly I realized we were in a bedroom.

Together.

Alone.

I moved toward the door, but Julia opened it first.

She looked at me. She looked at Griff. And then her mouth fell open.

“We were playing sardines. With the boys.”

“I leave the boys with you, and you have a—a—petting party!”

“No!” Both Griff and I shouted the word in unison.

“How could you even
think
of making the same mistake that—” She clapped a hand to her mouth.

Mistake? What mistake?

“That's the last time I'll ever trust you with anything again!”

“Julia?” My mother's voice came floating down the hallway.

“Did you find them?” My father's voice joined hers.

“I can't believe—! I don't even know—! How could you?” Julia stormed out of the room and down the stairs.

I followed.

Griff came along too, trailing behind me. “I didn't mean . . .”

There was raucous laughter down in the front hall. Who on earth was that?

Julia was standing at the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands. “Look at them. Just look at them!”

I did. The boys were laughing like loons, clutching each other as if they might otherwise fall over. Marshall was holding a bottle much like the one King Solomon had thrown in our direction the previous night. “What's wrong with them?”

“They're drunk!” Julia flung the words at me like an accusation.

“It's not
my
fault!”

“You were supposed to be watching them, Ellis!” My mother was nearly shouting.

“We were playing sardines.” The whole point was
not
to watch anybody.

“Do you know where I found them?” Julia gestured at Griff and me. “Up in my
bedroom
!”

Mother's eyebrows nearly shot right off her head. “Julia, go ask the cook for some ipecac and a bucket. Several of them. And Griffin . . .” He seemed to shrink before her gaze.

Father broke in. “Griffin—why don't you and I go see if we can figure out where they found that bottle.”

Which left me alone in the hall with my mother.

“Oh, Ellis.” She let out a long sigh. “I thought—I was beginning to think I could trust you. But now I see—” Now she was wringing her hands too.

“We were not—”

She looked at me, her brows cocked.

“—doing whatever it is Julia thinks we were. We were waiting for the boys.”

“For
three
hours
?”

“Three hours . . . ?”

“We left at one o'clock. It is now almost four o'clock, and we have to leave for the train station in less than two hours.”

“I guess . . . we lost track of time. . . .”

“I've heard about all those terrible dances and . . . and . . . petting parties, but I told myself even though you might sometimes be flighty, you have a good head on your shoulders. I've always believed you have more common sense than Julia, so I've refused to think you would ever betray my trust . . . but tell me the truth, Ellis. Do I have anything to worry about?”

“Mother!”

“I have nothing against Griffin; indeed, I have always hoped you two would come to an understanding one day. But that doesn't mean—”

“Mother, I am not lying. We were just playing sardines. We didn't do anything.” Why wouldn't she believe me?

“I've never liked the idea of that game. Hiding in the dark, going to find someone, and then sitting down on top of them. Or—” she shuddered—“lying down beside them.”

“It was not dark and we were not—doing any of that!”

There came a horrible retching sound from the kitchen.
It was immediately followed by the sound of wailing, which soon broke off into hiccups.

“I don't think this mixing of boys and girls nowadays does anyone any good. When I was your age—”

“When you were my age you always did exactly the right thing at exactly the right time! You just don't understand: I'm not like you, and I
never will be
!” I left the house at a run, slamming the door behind me, just like Colleen Moore in
Flaming Youth
. But it didn't make me feel any better. Neither did seeing Father and Griff on the path, coming toward me.

I just wanted to be alone. This was why I'd planned to go to Hollywood in the first place: so I wouldn't hear “Oh, Ellis!” anymore. Or witness disappointed looks or . . . bad grades. Spending so much time with Griff this weekend had almost made me throw my plans to the winds.

Wandering down to the beach, I kicked at the seaweed the tide had left stranded until I spied a big piece of driftwood. I sat down on it and stared out at the bay.

Why did he have to be so nice, and why did he have to insist on liking me so much? Couldn't he see how I always messed everything up? Why couldn't he just be like everyone else and hate me?

I heard a cough and turned to see Griff. Of course it would be him. It was getting to be a habit. He sat at the other end of the log, facing away from the bay, looking at me.