That Camden Summer (33 page)

"But I had never ... Carl and I ... we . it wasn5t . . . " Myra looked down at her fingers, which worked a tabletop doily as if crumbling dough. She cleared her throat and began again. "Well, let me tell it this way ... A train spur came through town, and a crew came to lay it. They ran those tracks right behind our backyard, and this one particular young fellow used to see me out there hanging clothes, and he'd wave to me_, and once he came over and asked if he could get a drink from the pump in our yard. And then he started coming to visit with me even after the crew moved up the line. He was a very handsome, smiling fellow, always full of mischief and jokes, very different from Carl. He made me laugh ... and he told me I was pretty. "

The room had grown still. Not even Myra's fingers worked the doily any longer.

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Roberta knew, even before the story continued. "V7hat was his name, Mother?"

Dreamily, Myra answered, "His name was Robert Coyle."

"He was my father, wasn't he?" "Yes."

It was a peculiar moment in which to feel close to her mother, that moment in which Roberta was told she'd been lied to her whole life long. Yet she had never seen softness in Myra before. It smoothed her wrinkled brow and relaxed her aging eyes, making Roberta wonder what her mother would have been like if Robert Coyle had stayed.

"He left, of course, with the railroad crew. And Carl knew right away that the baby wasn't his. He and I didn't ... well, you know. Not often. And then, after Robert left, not at all. Not ever again. Carl treated me politely, like a guest in his house. And when you were born, he announced that your name was to be Roberta, as a constant reminder of the sin I'd committed with another man. It didn't take me long to realize what a good man I had in Carl Halburton

- steady, dependable, somebody I loved ... but by then it was too late. He went on shunning me till his dying day.

"Grace was his. You weren't. He never let me forget it, so I suppose I wanted to pass down some of my regret to you."

Though Roberta waited, no apologies accompanied Myra's soul baring.

"But, Mother ... I was still yours."

Myra shifted in her chair, pressed the wrinkled

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doily to the tabletop and said, "Yes ... well ... it was hard."

There was little dignity in begging for crumbs at this point, and Myra might have mellowed enough to tell the story, but it seemed she was not going to confess any love for her daughter or apologize for withholding it. What was done was done.

Roberta sat back and glanced around the room as if coming awake from a seance. "Well, you taught me one thing, Mother."

"What's that?"

"Never to cheat my own children on love." Myra turned pink at the cheek and her mouth got stubborn. "I tried very hard with you, Roberta, but you were always so headstrong ... and different. Whatever I told you to do, you did the opposite. That's not easy on a mother, you know."

Some people can never admit they're wrong, Roberta realized, and her mother was one of them. She continued to be so concerned with herself that she was blind to her faults.

"Does Grace know all this?" "No. I never told her."

"You wouldn't have told me either if I hadn't insisted. "

"No ... I suppose not."

"So what about this Benevolent Society taking my children - you say you don't know anything about it?"

"No! Nothing!" "Who's the head of it?"

"Oh, Roberta, you aren't going to go kicking

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up a fuss over there, are you?"

"Mother, listen to yourself! These are my children I'm fighting for. If you won't tell me-, I'll find out somewhere else."

"Oh, very well, it's Wanda Libardi, but she's a friend of mine, so don't go accusing her of instigating anything that isn't true."

It was typical of Myra that she would be more concerned about her friends' hurt feelings than the welfare of her own grandchildren and daughter, but by now Roberta had become inured to her callousness. Why, she hadn't offered a single word of commiseration about the rape or the burn, no expression of horror, no word of blame for Elfred. It was as if after those few meager tears she had blocked it out of her mind. Was she actually going to pretend she'd never been told?

"Mother, you do believe me about the rape, don't you?"

"Oh, please, Roberta."

"Why would I make up such a story? And where do you think I got the burn if I was lying?"

"You and Grace are both my daughters ... what do you expect me to do?"

Open your arms and close them around me.

In reality, such a response would have been so out of character it would have been difficult to accept. Never having been shown physical affection by her mother, Roberta realized she really didn't want it now. She'd had Gabriel when she needed comfort most. And

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the children, especially Rebecca. They would continue to be her emotional mainstay.

"Nothing," Roberta finally answered, accepting within herself that she truly meant it. She expected nothing from her mother and she got nothing. But she meant what she'd said earlier, that she had learned a valuable lesson from Myra's coldness, and it had stood her in good stead through sixteen years of being a mother herself. Her children would never want for affection, attention and approval, not so long as she drew breath.

Surprisingly, now that Roberta had expunged her anger, she felt more amicable toward Myra. "I really mean that, Mother. I don't expect

anything from you. I just needed to get my feelings out. I guess if you continue being good to Grace, she needs it more than I do anyway. I got rid of my unfaithful husband, and I'm secure within myself. She still has both of those problems to work out yet. Well, listen

Roberta pushed back from the table and rose. "I'd better get going. I took time off work to come up here and talk to you, and I'll have to make it up. I'm the only public nurse working this area."

Myra looked relieved that the visit was over. She rose, too, keeping to the far side of the table. "Are you mad at me for telling you about your father?"

"No. It doesn't change what I felt for Carl. He'll always be the Daddy I remember, and if he wasn't an affectionate father, he made sure we had what we needed. That was enough."

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"Well, that's" - Myra gestured vaguely "that's good then."

An awkward silence fell. Roberta couldn't wait to get away and end it. At thirty-six years old she had done a lot of growing up today, and it felt good to have it behind her.

She could not take the time to go up and accost Wanda Libardi about whatever the Benevolent Society had in its craw. She had work to do and ground to cover, miles to drive and cases to visit.

And so much to think about.

Her girls. Gabriel. Gabriel's recalcitrant family. The frightening possibility of pregnancy. What the town was saying about her. What Grace was saying to Elfred. How Elfred was explaining his battered face. Elfred's girls and what they might have heard about their father. Whether or not to marry Gabriel. Whose house they'd live in. How they'd get along, being such opposites. The Benevolent Society. Elizabeth DuMoss tipping them off. Gabe and Isobel coming over for supper tonight. The instructions she had given Susan and Lydia about when to put the meat loaf to cook. Rebecca and the Ogier boy who'd gone out sailing this afternoon. How wonderful Gabriel's kisses had felt. How ironic it was that she and Rebecca were embarking on new relationships at almost the same time. The fact that she'd better have a talk with Rebecca about that.

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She was late getting home, and the others were already there when she arrived. Gabe's truck was parked on the boulevard, and a new swing hung on the front porch; Susan, Lydia and Isobel were crowded on it. Rebecca and Ethan Ogier were petting a strange cat that had wandered into the yard, and Gabriel was sitting on the front step reading a newspaper.

He put it down and got up as she slammed the door of her Ford, and he walked across the yard to meet her. A fine and unexpected leap lifted her heart at his approach. He was freshly bathed and combed -' dressed in ordinary khaki pants and a white shirt that his new laundress must have starched and ironed. It had fold lines and a place for a collar, but none was buttoned on. The evening was warm and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow, exposing his tanned forearms. As he moved toward her he wore a relaxed smile, and she thought how odd it must look to her neighbors to see the man waiting while the woman came home from work. But waiting he was, with all their children lounging on the porch beside him, continuing their preoccupations with an acceptance that granted her absolute freedom to walk toward him with a smile of anticipation on her tired face.

"Hello," she said, amazingly happy to have him waiting.

"Hello." "Where did the swing come from?" "Made it for you."

"Rebecca and Ethan will be glad." "So will 1, after dark."

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Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she let a beat pass before replying, "So will I. Thank you. It's very nice."

They had stopped in the break of the bridal wreath bushes where the long shadows from the neighbors' trees laid strips of gold and green across the yard. From the end of the block the sound of a horse's hooves passed, and up on the porch the swing chain was creaking. Gabriel stood with his back to the house, Roberta with her back to the street.

"Know what I wish?" he said. "No. What?"

"That I could kiss you."

"I wish you could too. I found myself thinking about kissing you a lot today."

"That's a good sign. Does that mean you'll marry me?"

"Not necessarily. But I thought about that, too, especially after I talked to my mother." "Oh?"

"She said she didn't know anything about the Benevolent Society taking my kids away from me. "

He nodded three times, very slowly, as if his mind was on something else. A half-smile narrowed his eyes, which roved over her hair and face. "I've never told you before, but I really like you in your uniform."

"Do you? Why's that?"

"The way you roll up your hair over the edge of your cap, neat and tidy. The way your apron straps cross in the back. Your clean white shoes."

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"You'd like me all neat and tidy all the time, wouldn't you?"

"I guess so."

"What if I'm not? What if our house is not? What if my children are not and you were married to me, then would we fight about it?" "I don't know."

She took a turn assessing him and liked what she saw.

"If we were married, where would we live?"' "I don't know that either."

"Where would you want to live?" "Your house is too small."

"And your house is too Caroline's." "Are you going to be jealous of her?"

"I doubt it. I actually spoke to her picture when I was alone in your room."

"What did you say?"

From up at the house Susan yelled, "Hey, are you two going to stand there and talk all night? We're starving! "

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder and called, "Be right there," then turned back to Roberta and calmly repeated his question. "What did you say?"

She liked his unflappability along with his blue eyes and sharp-edged lips, his thick eyebrows and his overall generous size.

"I told her that I love you." "You did not."

"Yes, I did. I said, 'I love your husband, Caroline Farley.' And I do, Gabriel."

She saw very clearly how she had stunned him anew with her declaration. He got slightly

breathless and his lips dropped open as if he wanted to lower his head, close his eyes and delight them both right there on the front path.

"Roberta, I don't understand you. You love me, yet you won't say you'll marry me." "Come on-, you two!" Isobel yelled. "It's

almost seven-thirty and the meat loaf is done!" This time it was Roberta's turn to glance at the porch, leaning to see around Gabe, then straightening without answering Isobel.

"Let's take this up on the new swing at eleven O'clock or so," she suggested.

"That's a long time from now."

"Well, maybe I can get the girls to go to bed by ten. I'll do my best. Now let's go see if Isobel set the table all neat and tidy, or if my girls just planned to pull the meat loaf apart with their hands. "

He let her lead the way to the house, and when she'd passed him by he said from behind her, "I set the table all neat and tidy."

"Oh." She smiled to herself. "Well.5 who knows? We might work out some kind of connubial compromise after all."

That supper seemed to take forever. Another kingdom come seemed to pass before the girls had cleaned up the dishes. Then they decided to try folding some origami designs, and by the time Roberta convinced them to start picking up paper scraps, it was well after ten. Following

that., Gabriel felt obliged to drive Isobel home. And at quarter to eleven at night he didn't want everyone up and down Alden Street to hear his truck returning to Roberta's house, so by the time he walked back up the hill it was after eleven.

She had washed up quickly, rubbed on almond cream, changed into a calf-length dress and a sweater and was waiting inside the living room screen door in the dark when he came up the porch steps.

"Hi," she whispered, opening the door stealthily and stepping outside.

"Hi," he whispered back.

"I didn't think they'd ever go to bed." "Me either."

"Does Isobel know you came back?"

"No. She doesn't have to know everything." "Neither do my girls. I can't believe I'm sneaking around meeting a boyfriend at my age. 5)

"Me either, but it's kind of fun." "All except for the mosquitoes."

"They weren't so bad when I was walking back. Maybe they'll leave us alone. Come on." He took her hand and they tiptoed to the

swing and sat, his arm slung loosely around her shoulders. They spoke only in whispers.

"You took your hair down."

"To keep the mosquitoes off my neck."

He reached over and put his hand on it ... then in it ... finding her skull with his fingertips. "Now what were we talking about when the girls called us in for supper?"