The Bride's House (41 page)

“What are you thinking?” Joe asked after a time.

Susan shook her head in the darkness. Then because Joe couldn’t see her, she said, “I think you could do it, Joe. I think you can do anything.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” she replied, and she caught a glimmer of light in his eyes when he looked up at her.

“Thank you.” Joe let go of her hand and stood up, leaning against the porch pillar and looking out at Sunrise Peak in the moonlight. “I told Peggy once that I wanted to run for the U.S. Senate—I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I actually wanted to go higher than that—and she said it would be great to be rich and famous. But that’s not it. I want to do things, like, you know, help those people down by Red Elephant. There’s such a gulf between rich and poor. Around here, there were always the wealthy mine owners and the poor miners.”

“You mean mine owners like my father and grandfather?”

He thought a moment. “Yeah, I guess so.” Then Joe asked, a little defensively, “Do
you
think it’s fair that they had so much money when their workers made so little?”

She’d never thought about it, but because Joe asked, she pondered the question. “If you talk like that, people will call you a communist.”

“People like Joe McCarthy, I suppose. You know, there are some good things about communism.” Susan didn’t reply, and Joe said, “I’ve offended you.”

“No, I’m still thinking about what you said.”

“That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had.” Joe sat down again and took Susan’s hand, interlacing his fingers through hers. Then he leaned over and kissed her. It was a light kiss, more a kiss of friendship than of passion, not like the kisses at New Year’s, and she longed for more.

He started to kiss her again, but they heard Pearl switch off the radio in the middle of the
Dragnet
theme, and they pulled apart, Joe whispering, “Damn!”

In a moment Pearl joined them on the porch. Joe stood so that she could take his place, but Pearl seated herself on the porch steps, and Joe leaned on the post beside her. Pearl didn’t seem to feel the awkward silence caused by her interruption, because she looked up at the stars and said, “You ought to go into politics yourself, Joe. The country could use smart boys like you.”

“Gee, that’s nice of you, Mrs. Curry.”

“Joe and I were talking about his doing just that,” Susan said. “I think he’d be wonderful, don’t you, Mother?”

“It’s only a thought.” Joe sounded embarrassed. So Susan said no more, and in a minute, Joe took his leave, and Susan watched him walk down Taos Street, watched the way he held his head up and his shoulders moved under the tight shirt.

“That young man will make his mark one day,” Pearl said in the darkness. Then she added as an afterthought, “You could do worse than Joe Bullock.”

Susan hugged herself and thought that she could do no better. But fat chance.

CHAPTER 17

I
F
J
OE DIDN
’
T SEEM TO
pursue Susan that June, Peter Fanshaw did. Before the lilacs bloomed, he wrote, asking if he could spend the weekend in Georgetown. He’d take the bus and get a motel room, since he didn’t want to impose.

“You remember I told you about Peter Fanshaw? He’s stationed at Lowry,” Susan said to Pearl the afternoon she received the letter. Susan rarely interrupted her mother when Pearl was writing, but she would have to answer Peter’s letter right away.

“Um, what?” Pearl asked, distracted. “By the way, what was that superstition Bert Joy told us, the one about a dog lying in a doorway?”

“If a dog lies outside the door with his head inside, you’ll get a new family member before the year ends. If the dog lies inside the door with his head out, someone will die. That one?”

“Is that it, or is it the other way around?” Pearl thought a moment. “I’ll have to ask Bert.”

“We don’t have a dog.”

“I saw one down the street. I’m writing about superstitions. I was told my mother believed in them.” She turned back to her typewriter, then looked up at Susan. “That’s not why you came in here, is it, to talk about superstitions?”

Susan shook her head.

Pearl smiled. “You were talking about a young man, I believe, the enlisted man.”

“His name is Peter. I told you. I just got a letter from him.” She held it out. “He has the weekend off, and he wants to come to Georgetown.”

“Do you want him to?” Pearl’s hands had been poised over the typewriter, but now she put them into her lap.

“I guess so.” Peter didn’t know anything about her family, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

“Is this serious?”

“Not for me.”

“But for him it is.” That was a statement, not a question.

Susan shrugged.

“I see. He’s probably bound for Korea, isn’t he? I should think any young man in that situation would be serious. Should I write and invite him to stay in the Bride’s House?”

“Would you?” Suddenly, Susan liked the idea of Peter visiting in Georgetown, Joe knowing that he was staying with her and her mother.

Pearl nodded.

So the following Friday afternoon, Susan met Peter as he got off the Greyhound. He looked handsome in his uniform, and she couldn’t help speculating what Joe would think when he saw him, whether Joe would be jealous. She hoped so. Peter put his arms around her and tried to kiss her, but Susan broke away, embarrassed, saying, “There are too many gossips in Georgetown.”

“Later then,” he told her, swinging his flight bag into the back seat of the Mercury, then getting in beside Susan. “Nice town,” he said, as she drove down Rose Street, then over to Taos. When she stopped the car in front of the Bride’s House, Peter looked up at it, a little intimidated, and said, “You told me you had a cabin.”

“Did I?” Susan remembered then that when she’d met him, she had not wanted Peter to know she had money. “The Bride’s House is a little better than a cabin, but it’s not any big deal. Nobody wants these old houses. You can’t give them away.”

“It’s huge. It’s bigger than the orphanage I grew up in.”

Susan found the remark unsettling. She loved the Bride’s House with its history and its sense of family. How awful to have none of that, to have your childhood memories centered on an institution. Without realizing it, she took Peter’s hand and led him up the front walk, telling him that her grandfather had built the house for his wife, repeating the story about Nealie dying after giving birth to Susan’s mother. “She’s inside, Mother, that is. She’s anxious to meet you.” In fact, Pearl hadn’t appeared anxious at all. She’d said little about Peter.

They went into the foyer, Peter whistling when he saw the polished walnut staircase that clung to the wall, circling as it reached the second floor. He dropped his bag onto the floor and stepped into the parlor, where Pearl came to meet him, her hand extended. “We’re delighted to have you here, Peter,” she said.

“Thanks, Pearl.” Pearl’s face tightened a little at the familiarity. She was nearly seventy. None of Susan’s friends had ever called her by her first name. “This is nice for such an old place,” he said, and Pearl replied somewhat stiffly that she hoped he would find it comfortable.

“Would you like something to drink? We have lemonade and iced tea in the refrigerator.”

“Got a bottle of beer? No glass. I’ll just hold the bottle by the neck in case I have to hit some ghost over the head. I bet a house as old as this has ghosts, doesn’t it?”

“None that we’ve encountered.” Pearl raised her chin a little. “I’ll see about the beer.”

Susan bit her lip, thinking this weekend might not have been such a great idea. She’d been excited for Peter to visit, but now she wasn’t so sure. She took Peter to his room, then went into the kitchen. “Mother, for heaven’s sake, lighten up. He didn’t go to prep school. He grew up in an orphanage.”

Pearl was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry for that, Susan, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s nervous. He’s nicer than you think.”

“I’m sure he is.” Pearl took out a bottle of beer, rubbing her hand up and down the neck.

“He’s old enough to drink. He’s twenty-six. Do you want his ID?”

Pearl didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “Are the two of you getting together with Peggy and Joe? You could invite them here for dinner tomorrow.”

Susan thought that over. Peter would be at a disadvantage at the Bride’s House, where he would realize how much Pearl liked Joe. He might say or do the wrong thing, and Susan wanted him to look good. “Maybe we’ll just meet them at the Red Ram,” she said. Peter would fit in at the Ram. Maybe there’d be a band, and he would sit in on drums, which would impress everybody. Peter came into the kitchen then and opened the beer, grinning at Susan. When Pearl left, he put his arm around Susan and leaned down and kissed her on the ear.

*   *   *

The next day, Susan and Peter stopped at the Miner’s Daughter to ask Peggy to join them at the Ram that evening. Peggy didn’t notice Susan enter the shop, but she saw Peter and gave him a sly smile. Peter grinned back, looking so sexy that Susan preened at being with him.

“What are
you
doing in Georgetown? Did the Air Force invade?” Peggy asked Peter.

“He came to see me,” Susan answered for him.

“Oh, hi, Susan,” Peggy said, looking back and forth from one to the other, a little disappointed.

Susan introduced the two, then said, “Peter came to spend the weekend with
me
. We stopped to ask if you wanted to go to the Ram tonight, you and Joe.”

“You bet. We were going to the movies, but this sounds better.” Susan felt a pang of jealousy that Joe had invited Peggy out. Maybe he’d know how
she
felt when he saw Peter. The three made small talk, until Peggy said, “I put aside a scarf I thought you would like. It’s in the storeroom.” She turned, and Susan followed her. “He’s a hunk. How come you never told me about him?”

“Didn’t I? He’s one of the guys I dated in Denver.”

“Is he serious?”

“Oh, Peggy.”

“Well?”

Susan gave Peggy a knowing look. “I don’t want to talk about it. Where’s the scarf?”

“There isn’t any scarf, dummy. I wanted to know what was going on. How long have you known him?”

“Since before Christmas. What’s with the third degree?” Susan really didn’t mind, because she knew that Peggy would repeat whatever she said to Joe.

“It’s because you’ve been so secretive. Where did you meet him?”

Susan took her time answering. Then she said slyly, “He picked me up on the streetcar.”

*   *   *

“So, are you career Air Force?” Joe asked Peter, after they had ordered a round of beer.

“No, I’m thinking of going to school when I get out.”

“Where?”

“That depends.” He sent a knowing glance at Susan, who looked away. She wanted Joe to think she was interested in Peter but not
that
interested.

“Are you getting shipped out to Korea?” Peggy asked.

Peter nodded. “The end of the month, it looks like.”

Susan jerked her head around and stared at him. He had not told her that. Of course, she’d known he would go sometime, but she hadn’t thought it would be so soon. That was why he’d come to Georgetown—to tell her.

“I admire you for joining the service,” Joe said.

“Then why don’t you join up, too?” Peter snapped. “I get sick of guys who admire the rest of us for putting our lives on the line for our country.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Susan said, unable to keep from defending Joe. “He’s going on to law school.”

“It’s called draft dodging.”

“I’m not even sure why we’re fighting over there,” Joe said. “I’d like to think there’s a purpose to it.”

“I don’t think about that. I signed up to defend my country.”

“From who?” Peggy asked.

“Anybody you’ve got.”

Susan didn’t like the way the conversation was going. She’d wanted the four of them to have a good time, not a confrontation over Korea, and she patted Peter’s hand under the table. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs.

But Joe was not ready to let up. “It’s not even a war,” he said. “It’s a police action. You’ll be part of a police action.”

“Tell that to the men who’ve died there.” Peter sat up suddenly and the chair almost fell over. The waitress set down four bottles of beer, no glasses, and Peter paid her before Joe could get out his wallet. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Fine with me, but I can’t imagine anybody joining the Air Force to fight for something you don’t even understand,” Joe replied. They were silent a moment, then he asked, “So who are you backing for President, Peter?”

“I haven’t thought much about it. General Eisenhower, I suppose.”

Joe scoffed, made a face. “I’m for Adlai Stevenson. Susan, too, of course, since he’s a friend of her parents.”