Promises (41 page)

“To tote your books and papers to school in style,” he said. “You’ll also find it handy for travel.”

She laughed. “It’s beautiful right now, Fred. I’m not likely to be doing any traveling.”

“You never know,” he replied.

The young ones had been given a quiz game, which they began to play on the floor. Margaret, wanting to
look at the album, sought a corner chair and lamp, while the rest watched
A Christmas Carol
on television.

Presently, Stephen left the television and went to her. “I have some information that came late yesterday, Margaret. If you want me to spare you another office visit, since I know how busy you are, I can give it to you now. Or, if it will spoil your day here, tell me. Be frank.”

Oh, why couldn’t the severance be swift and clean? Adam had left her. Why, then, didn’t he move to Timbuktu so that she wouldn’t ever have to hear his name? Only a week ago Louise had reported, “We saw them last night at that French restaurant where I took Megan that day. I said to Gil that it’s a mighty expensive place for a cheap woman.”

She put the album aside and asked Stephen to go ahead.

“Item one is that he’s found another job. Didn’t Julie and Danny tell you?”

“No. They never even knew he had lost the first one until I told them. I’m sure he was too proud to let them know himself.”

Strange that she was still able to comprehend or pity his loss and his pride! And yet, what does he care about us or about me, who was his wife and mothered his children? she asked herself.

“Thank goodness for our sake that he’s gotten another one,” she said.

“Unfortunately, he’s taken a slight cut in salary.”

“A cut? At his age he should be getting a raise.”

“There’s more. The woman is pregnant.”

Pregnant! A half-sibling from that woman for my lovely children.… From that woman.

“Another child,” she cried, trying to curb her outrage. “He can’t even do right by the ones he has. It’s disgusting.” Anger choked her, and she said fiercely now, “I want more money for my children. Megan has applied to Harvard. And her advisor says there’s a good chance that she’ll be accepted. She deserves to go, and I want her father to pay for it.”

“You can’t get blood from a stone,” Stephen said gently.

“His lawyer claims he has mortgage expenses for that house, doesn’t he? So let him sell the house. I had to sell mine.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not his to sell. It belongs to the woman, and she isn’t even his wife.”

“Then let him leave her and cut his expenses. Tell me, has he gone completely crazy, or is he just bone evil, or is he both?”

“I can’t answer that,” Stephen said, still gently.

A Christmas Carol
having ended, Fred went over now to Margaret’s corner, questioning, “You’re looking anxious. Is something wrong?”

“Only the usual. It’s a complicated business, getting a divorce.”

Fred’s reply was a pointed question, directed to Stephen. “How long do you think it will take?”

“That depends. A year, or even two.”

“It’s an outrage. Does the law think people live forever? Two years while life stops. Everything on hold.”

Margaret stood up. Suddenly she was overwhelmed. She wanted to get home, lie down, and pull the blanket around her ears. And she had hoped so much to set this day aside, as if there had never been a catastrophe, as if hers still were an ordinary life.

She was conscious of Stephen, watching her. “It’s been a wonderful day, an unexpected treat for me,” he said quickly. “But perhaps we should start back. I’m wondering whether my car is permanently frozen in the parking lot.”

The streets around the apartments had been plowed so that the going was smooth. Margaret’s house was the first stop. Politely, as they alighted from the Jeep, Julie and Megan thanked Uncle Fred. And Danny said, “I wish we lived in your house, Uncle Fred. Did you tell Mom we could?”

Concealing her embarrassment, Margaret reproved him. “You
are
silly.”

“No, I’m not. Uncle Fred told me we could if you wanted to. And we could get Rufus back if we lived there.”

This was the first time in a long while that he had mentioned the dog. The boy’s eyes were round with innocence and candor, with a sweetness almost babylike in spite of the down starting on his upper lip. Always, always, he had been able, unknowingly, to pull at his mother’s heart.

“Don’t be stupid,” Julie said sharply. “We can’t live there and you’re old enough to know it.”

“Why not? Look at all the empty rooms he has. We could, only Mom won’t.”

“Louder,” Megan said, “I’m sure the neighbors are fascinated. Keep it up.”

The two men in the front seat were silent, facing forward. Suddenly Stephen got out, saying, “Don’t go out of your way to drop me off, Fred. It’s a short walk, and I like the cold air.”

The car rolled away, the young ones went indoors,
and Margaret, since he did not immediately move toward home, stood with Stephen.

“Danny doesn’t understand,” she explained. “He was just excited. The day was so exciting, with the presents and the snowstorm and Fred’s lovely house. Then he comes back, and reality strikes again.”

In the apartment the light went on. There was something forlorn about that small light, when all around lay the spread of white slopes and dark sky, a tingling stillness and enormity.

Stephen smiled. “I’m sure Fred didn’t mind. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worried about my children and no one else, including myself.”

“Yes,” Stephen said, “I’ve noticed. Are you aware that you don’t speak so much about Adam anymore?”

“I wasn’t aware. But now that you tell me, I can see how that can be. I’m not mourning for him anymore, Stephen. I really don’t care how many women he takes or what else happens to him. I only want his money for my children.”

He looked down at her with an expression that she could not fathom, searching her, as he had done at Fred’s dinner table.

“They will survive,” he said, “because you are a survivor.” He smiled again. “I have every confidence in you. Just don’t make any final decisions until you’re ready.”

“Such as?”

“Such as anything. Well, Merry Christmas and good night.”

Quite suddenly, he had brought her close to tears, which was strange, considering that she had just said
she cared about nothing except her children. Probably, though, it was only because he reminded her of what it was to be young. Although he was her own age and was often grave, there was still a shining about him. She sensed a quality of hidden joy. And it came to her that the only person close to her who had that quality was Nina. Yes, a shining. And she watched him to the bottom of the hill as, lightly, with rapid grace, he moved across the snow.

A
s spring came in and the days grew warm enough to sit outdoors, Margaret began the habit of taking her work to the park. Sometimes she stopped at the ball field to watch Danny play, but mostly she went straight to the lake, where drifting swans, indifferent and patrician, marked the still water with their wakes. At them and at the windblown trees one could gaze and gaze without thought.

On this particular day, however, she was full of thought. The college letters had arrived. Megan, unable to bear the tension of waiting for the mail, had taken the car and gone on errands, while Margaret, herself tense with expectation, had waited at the window for the mail truck.

“Thick envelopes mean acceptance, Mom. Thin ones are thumbs down. I don’t mind if you open them,” Megan had said.

If only the advisor and all her teachers had not encouraged the girl to apply to Harvard! If only they had not raised her hopes! In some ways Margaret had almost
wished that Harvard would not take her; the disappointment then would not be even close to the heartbreak that would come from having to refuse their acceptance.

Ah, but what a pity! Megan had had the highest grade average of any student in the previous twelve years. She deserved this honor. And Margaret, examining her own heart, knew beyond any doubt that there was not within herself or her daughter the slightest trace of snobbery. It was only that Harvard was so highly selective. It was only that in applying there Megan had been challenging herself to do her best. And she had won.

She’s smarter than I ever was, Margaret thought. Her mind is remarkable. She is a remarkable person. A trifle too rigid, she is what you might call a Puritan: stalwart, driven, and uncomplaining. She never asks for anything. You cannot move her when she knows or believes she’s right. But she is so decent, honorable, and kind, so thoroughly good. She was never a humorous person, but she did used to laugh. And boys like her. They used to come around and the telephone used to ring.…

He did this to her. Her father and Randi, they did this to her.… Margaret’s hands turned to fists on her lap.

She raised her eyes to the swans, circling, circling, in their dignity, their composure. The sun glittered on the lake. Such a beautiful world it was! And people ruined it.

Then she saw Stephen jogging down the path. When he saw her, he stopped.

“Five times around every Saturday and Sunday. I try to make up for all the hours I spend on a chair. Is Dan playing ball?”

“No, Fred took him to the football game.”

“Fred has a fatherly way with Dan.”

Whether that was a statement or a question was not quite clear, and so she answered simply, “Yes.”

“I’m really fond of Dan, you know.”

“Thank you. And as always, many thanks for his improvement in French. His teacher doesn’t know what to make of it.”

Stephen laughed. “By the way, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” But she knew he meant the six volumes of Proust in French that she had sent him.

“The books. It’s a marvelous gift, but you shouldn’t have done it.”

“People get paid for tutoring, and you wouldn’t let me pay. You’ve spent hours with Dan that you could have used for something else.”

He smiled. “I try not to do things that I don’t enjoy. I enjoy Dan.”

“You speak it like a native. Did you always speak French at home with your mother?”

As quickly as it had come, the smile disappeared. He shrugged. “That’s a long story. Too long. Dan said Megan’s waiting for college letters.”

“They came just now. Four acceptances, including Harvard.”

Stephen whistled. “Fantastic! Does she know?”

“Not yet. She’ll be home soon, and I dread it. I’ll have to tell her she won’t be able to go.” And Margaret looked into his face as if pleading. “Unless there’s a chance that Adam—”

He shook his head. “No. He doesn’t have to, and even if he wanted to, he isn’t able to.”

“Oh,” she cried, “if we were together, we would manage it. We never lived extravagantly. We might have to borrow a little against his salary, or Megan might get some financial aid from the college, but we would manage.”

“He has two families now. And double expenses. That’s what divorce does.”

She felt desperation rising in her chest. “I could dig into the money I got from selling the house. But I need the income. And I don’t dare touch that money yet.”

There were two more coming along. Julie was only two years behind Megan. She was bright, not like Megan, but doing well. And so was Dan.

Abruptly then, becoming conscious of Stephen’s jogging suit, she apologized. “Go on. I’m keeping you from your exercise. This is no place to air my worries.”

“Margaret, I don’t mind,” he said. “I wish I had a solution for you.”

“No, go jog. I have to get back to see Megan, anyway.”

Long after Dan and Julie were asleep, Margaret and Megan were still in the outer room.

“After all, most people don’t go to Harvard or Oxford or any of those world-famous places. I myself went to the state university, and I haven’t suffered any.” Margaret could have added but did not, “And so did your father.”

“Mom, I know that,” Megan said patiently.

“You can go to Harvard and not fulfill yourself. I’m sure there are plenty who do not.”

She was arguing not only, or even mainly, for her daughter’s benefit; she was, and she knew she was, rationalizing
for her own sake. If there had been any valid, any honorable, reason why the money was not available for Megan, she would have accepted it, just as most of the country’s population had to accept things. But the reason was not honorable, the reason was Adam’s infatuation.

“Mom, I understand, I really do. And I’m fine, I really am. But I’m tired now, and I want to go to sleep.”

“Of course. It’s late.”

The worst would come on Monday back at school, with all the eager questions, congratulations, comparisons, and explanations. And, indeed, it happened so. Megan came home earlier than usual, briefly mentioned an upset stomach, and went to bed. In the morning her eyes were swollen, but she was cheerful and, as always, went to school on time.

Nina telephoned. “You were out when I called, and Julie gave me Megan’s great news.”

“What news?”

“About going to Harvard, naturally.”

“Nina, she isn’t going. She can’t.”

“Why, what do you mean?”