The Unwelcomed Child (35 page)

“Thank you,” I said.

I didn’t expect it, especially out front in view of customers gaping at us through the windows and customers coming and going, but he embraced me, kissed me on the cheek, and walked back into the restaurant.

“I think this isn’t going to really hit him until later,” Claudine said when I caught up with them.

I was silent until we were all in the car and Mason turned to me. “Are you sorry you did this?”

“No,” I said. I turned to Claudine. “Thank you. You were great in there. You both were.”

“Hey, we’re the Three Musketeers,” she said, and then tapped Mason on the shoulder. “Home, James, pronto,” she said.

He laughed, started the engine, and turned on the radio.

I sat back and took a deep breath.

Claudine hadn’t been completely accurate back there, I thought.

My father wasn’t the only one who was going to feel all of this more deeply later.

“I like him,” Claudine said as we left the city. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“I agree,” Mason said. He turned to me. “Your mother was a complicated woman.”

“Still is, right, Elle?”

“Yes.”

“The important thing is, you have no reason to blame yourself for anything or think any less of yourself. Don’t let anyone put you down,” Claudine said. “Understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

I did understand. I think I understood a great deal more than they possibly could. One day, I would confront my mother with it, too. I was convinced now that she didn’t get pregnant by accident. She wanted to get pregnant. She wanted to hurt my grandparents deeply and thought I was the way. She was betting on my grandmother and grandfather being so wounded that they would want to quickly erase any evidence, but she underestimated Grandmother Myra’s moral and religious strength. Maybe Grandmother Myra was always talking about my mother when she said my father was the evil one. Maybe she never believed the story my mother gave her. Maybe she imposed all that on me intending not to have me inherit my father’s sinful ways as much as my mother’s.

The long silences in the car on the return trip came from all three of us being in deep thought, me reviewing my whole life and them probably thinking about what it would be like for them if they were in my shoes. I knew Mason wanted the ride to be shorter. He was going pretty fast and came very close to getting a speeding ticket. At nearly the last moment, he saw a highway patrolman about half a mile ahead and dropped his speed.

“Lucky you,” Claudine told him as we drove on past the patrolman. “You’d have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I’d just blame it on you,” he told her, and they got into one of their back-and-forth arguments, looking as if they might really get angry at each other until one of them said something funny and they both laughed at themselves.

It lightened things up for me, but when we drew closer to Lake Hurley, my mind went back to worrying about my grandfather and what would be coming next in our lives. This time, Mason stopped right in front of my house. It was nearly five, but I remembered Grandpa Prescott telling me he was going shopping for a new car after he had left the hospital.

I just sat there a moment. None of us spoke.

“Thank you,” I finally said.

“I think it’s time you told your grandfather about us,” Mason said.

I nodded. “I will.”

“Are you going to tell him about this trip?” Claudine asked.

“Not right away, but someday.”

“Call us as soon as we can see you again,” Mason said.

I nodded and got out.

Claudine got into the front seat. She reached for my hand. “That took guts,” she said. “Remember, don’t sell yourself short.”

“I won’t.”

I watched them drive off and turned to go into the house. Just as I reached the front steps, the door opened, and Grandpa Prescott stood there looking out at me. I froze.

“I came home early,” he began, “because I wanted you to come along with me when I looked at new cars.”

He looked in the direction Mason and Claudine had gone.

“Who were they?”

“They’re our neighbors who live closest to us on the lake. I met them when I went into the woods and down to the lake to draw and paint. I’m sorry I never told you about them, but I thought Grandmother Myra would be angry and stop me from going into the woods and to the lake.”

“She might have,” he said. He stepped back. “Come on in, Elle.”

I walked into the house. He walked ahead of me into the living room, and I followed. After he sat, I sat on the sofa.

“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” I said.

“I told your grandmother many times that I thought you should have friends your own age. She always said there would be time enough for all that. What are they like?”

“They’re twins. They go to a private school in New York City. I met their parents, too. Their father’s a lawyer, and their mother has a decorating business.”

“So when you went out to paint, you were really spending the day with them?”

“I painted, too, but they have a rowboat.”

He nodded. “Maybe for now, we don’t say anything about it to your grandmother,” he said. “Where did you go with them today?”

At first, I thought I would make something up, be as fast on my feet as Claudine had taught me, but then I thought, my days of lying and sneaking around were over. Maybe my mother went in the direction she had gone because she was never honest with her parents. In the end, the punishment you suffer is greater once all the lies and deception are revealed.

“When my mother was here and we took that walk . . .”

“Yes?”

“She told me who my father was. She didn’t remember all that much about him, or else she lied and said she didn’t remember.”

“I vote for she lied,” he said.

“Anyway, I couldn’t help being curious, wanting to know more about him, about what had happened.”

“What did you do? Where did you go?”

“Claudine, that’s the girl’s name, went on her computer and found him. He’s still in Albany running what was his father’s bar and restaurant.”

“You went to Albany?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, I thought he smiled, but I think it was more of a look of astonishment. “And?”

“We found him and spoke with him. He’s married with two children, girls. He denied raping my mother, but he admitted to being with her. He said she never told him she was pregnant. She just stopped seeing him.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yes, I do, Grandpa.”

He nodded. “I never believed your mother’s story. I don’t think your grandmother really believed it, either, but it was easier to accept it and go on. They were both trying to hurt each other in the end, your mother coming home pregnant and your grandmother refusing to give her an easy out. Your mother ran away for that reason as much as any.”

“You really knew all this?”

“In my heart, I did, but I would have lost both of them, and maybe you to boot, if I had told what I really thought about it all.”

“I’m sorry if I disappointed you, Grandpa.”

“You didn’t, Elle. I was always afraid your grandmother had beat the grit out of you. It was why I was reluctant to push for you to go to public school and be with other kids your age. I was afraid you’d be mincemeat for the bullies, but I think you’re going to do more than just hold your own now.” He took a deep breath. “I think I’m a little hungry.”

“Oh, I prepared your favorite meat loaf this morning. I just need to get started on it and the vegetables and salad.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said.

“How is Grandmother Myra?”

“No change, but at least she’s cooperating with the therapy. Knowing her, she’ll make some progress. You can come with me tomorrow, and afterward, we will look for that new car.”

“Okay, Grandpa.” I rose to prepare our dinner.

“And bring your friends around one day,” he said.

“I will.”

At dinner, I went into more detail about our trip to Albany. He told me about some times he had been there on business. I couldn’t remember a more relaxed dinner. It was truly as if we were finally getting to know each other, or I was finally getting to know him.

That evening, he had a phone call that surprised him. It was from his brother, Brett. Apparently, Grandpa had decided in the end to call my mother to tell her about Grandmother Myra. She didn’t say she was going to come right up to see her, but she told her uncle. They had a long conversation, and when it ended, I saw how pleased Grandpa was.

“He says he’ll be coming up as soon as he can get away. About time you met him. Myra won’t be happy about it, but she’s not happy about anything right now.”

“Will my mother ever return?”

“She says she’ll try. She has her own demons to battle. We can’t worry about it right now, Elle.”

I loved how he included me in everything he said and everything he planned for the future. It was as if I had truly become part of the family. It was beginning to happen before Grandmother Myra’s stroke, but now it was on a fast track. We would share decisions, share happy moments, and share disappointments, but that was what a real family did. The secrets that lived so comfortably in the dark corners of our house slipped out through the open windows that invited more and more sunshine.

One morning, Grandpa Prescott sat back at breakfast in deep thought.

“What is it, Grandpa?” I asked.

“I want you out of that room today, Elle,” he said. “You go upstairs and fix your mother’s old room the way you want it, and move all your things to the closets. Get rid of whatever you want.”

“You know how she kept it?”

“I know, but that’s over. It should have been over a long time ago. I’m sorry about that.”

“I don’t want to get rid of everything, Grandpa.”

“The choices are yours to make,” he said. “I’ll help you move your things, if you like.”

“No, I can do it. I know where the key is,” I confessed.

“I had a feeling you did. That’s fine. I want all of the ghosts out of this house.” He leaned back and shouted, “You hear that, you ghosts? You’re out of here by high noon or else!”

Right after breakfast, I went to work. I opened all the curtains, packed up some of the clothing I couldn’t use, and moved whatever I had into the drawers and closet. While I was working on the room, Grandpa Prescott was downstairs putting the door on the room I had lived in all my life. He didn’t take the religious pictures and icons off the walls, but I told him I didn’t mind bringing the baby Jesus picture up to my new room.

“It’s been with me too long,” I said. “I’ll still say my prayers.”

“Of course you will. That’s fine.”

He was happy to close the room downstairs otherwise. It seemed so strange to me to see the door closed. It was like seeing the past cut out of my life. We didn’t tell Grandmother Myra about it. Grandpa thought it would be better if she learned that when she came home. He believed she would in the near future. He did what he had planned and looked into a mechanical chair for the stairway. It was kept on order and would be installed as soon as her release was imminent.

I spoke with Mason and Claudine a few times, and one day, Grandpa let me invite them over to have dinner with us. I had told them how close my grandfather and I had become and how he had not been angry about what I had done. Claudine was nicer to him than I was anticipating because of that. They were both very talkative, and Grandpa Prescott seemed genuinely interested in learning about their lives in New York and what their parents’ summerhouse was like. He talked about the good times he’d had on the lake. The conversation was so pleasant that it was like having a party.

I held my breath when Mason let it slip out that he had been teaching me how to swim. I expected at least a dark look of shock, but Grandpa only nodded and said it was always a worry of his that I hadn’t learned how to swim. He laughed when they invited him to go in the rowboat.

Right about this time, I took an evaluation exam at the high school and did what they called exceedingly well. I was given a packet of papers describing requirements and my class schedule. These were days of excitement. At the end of that week, Uncle Brett arrived. He was as handsome as my mother had said, his face capturing all of Grandpa’s good features but with a little darker complexion, and he was a little taller. He made a big deal over me and brought me a beautiful gold bracelet and matching earrings.

At first, he and Grandpa Prescott sat and talked about their early days, teasing each other about the things they had done. Then Uncle Brett gave us a brief history of his life after he had left home, describing the places he had been and the famous singers and musicians he had worked with. Despite the way he talked about his romantic and exciting life, he admitted that he missed having his own family.

When he spoke about my mother, he spoke sadly, apologizing for his failure to help her become more stable and mature.

“I did what I could for her, Prescott,” he said. “I was doing what I could for you just as much as for her. I hope you believe that.”

“Sure do,” Grandpa said. “It is what it is. We can only pray something will open her eyes one day. Maybe a good angel will take her on. Angels like challenges, too,” he added, making light of it.