Whisper Beach (28 page)

“I wasn't going to. I think it's time to act instead.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. And I know where I have to start.”

V
AN MET
N
ATE
M
ORAN AT TEN THE NEXT MORNING AT THE
pavilion of a nearby lake. He was sitting inside, drinking coffee from a cardboard cup. He stood when he saw Van walking across the park toward him.

When she stepped onto the platform, he handed her another cup. “I wasn't sure how you like it so I brought everything on the side.”

“Black is fine, thanks.” She sat down. He sat down. He seemed nervous.

“You said you needed some advice.”

“I do. But it's kind of wrapped up in a lot of different things, so I was hoping you could help me. It's about my house.”

“I've been having one of the boys go over and mow the grass,” he said. “But I don't think anyone's been inside, since Robbie . . . your dad . . . moved out.”

“When did he move out?”

“When he finally realized you weren't coming back. He took the key over to the lawyer's office and turned it in.”

“He thought I was coming back?”

“Hoped you were coming back.”

Van didn't want to talk about this. She knew they would have to go there, but not yet.

“It looks great, thank you.”

“You been over?”

“Yeah. I've been trying to decide whether to sell it. I'd have to have a carting company come over and clear it out, then hire someone to paint it. It would take awhile.”

“I see. Well, I can take care of that if you want.”

Impulsively, Van placed her hand on top of his big calloused one. “You're so good to me, Uncle Nate. But you don't have to worry about it. That's not what I came to ask.”

He looked tired. Burdened, maybe.

“I was thinking that maybe Gigi and the kids would like to live in it until she gets back on her feet.”

Nate had been contemplating his coffee cup, but at this he looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot but not from the usual Moran excuse. Uncle Nate was losing sleep.

“What's wrong, Uncle Nate?”

“Gigi's never been on her feet. Don't know why she just never—hell, I don't know what to do with her. She just mopes around the house all day except when she's over with you gals. Then when she gets home, Amelia lights into her for shirking her responsibilities and ignoring her children.

“The children yo-yo from being scared and quiet to acting like little heathens. And Gigi just ignores them.”

“Maybe Clay's death has really . . . challenged her.”

“Clay's been dead a week. Gigi's been like this ever since she
moved back with us. I offered to lend them some money so they could rent a place until they rebuilt their house. But Clay didn't want to take charity, and Lord help me, I think Gigi just wanted to come home.

“And she did. And I don't think she plans on leaving.”

“She can live in my house.”

Nate sighed so deeply that his shoulders seemed to implode. “I appreciate it, but I'm not sure that it will fix what's wrong with Gigi.”

“Depression?”

He shrugged.

“Have you thought she might need professional help?”

“You mean like a psychiatrist?”

“Maybe just a therapist; they have therapists who will see the whole family. I hear it can help in times like these.”

“All fine and good, but she hasn't got insurance.”

Van didn't want to touch that one. And she didn't want to offend Nate by suggesting aid.

“Maybe you can get her into the clinic and see what they can advise.”

Nate nodded. “Maybe she just needs time.”

Now was the time to tell Nate about the theft. She scooted closer to her uncle. She didn't know why, it just seemed the only thing she could do to let him know she wanted to help. Especially since she was about to drop something that could only hurt and embarrass him.

“Uncle Nate, I don't know quite how to say this, and it may be part of Gigi's general malaise, but I have reason to believe, I think, that— Well, Suze has been waiting for a very important letter. It was supposed to come in the mail this week. But it didn't.”

“What does this have to do with Gigi?”

“Gigi found the letter in Dana's dresser yesterday. You remember Dana; she's been staying at Dorie's.”

“Good for her. That Bud Albright is mean as a snake. But how did Gigi find the letter?”

“She was helping put laundry away and saw it in one of the drawers in Dana's room. She came down and showed us. We immediately turned on Dana, who of course, denied it.

“And I'm sorry to say that I'm afraid that Gigi may have taken it in order to get back at Dana for something.”

“No, Gigi wouldn't do something like that. Did you ask her? What did she say?”

“I didn't ask her. Uncle Nate, she seems fragile. More fragile than grief would normally make her. I didn't want to even suggest it to her until I talked to you.”

“Well, I'll talk to her.” Nate suddenly went from concerned parent to someone who reminded her of her own father.

“No!” She grabbed his wrist. “It's not that big of a deal. I was just concerned for her welfare. It's not like her to do something like this.”

Nate's eyes glistened, and Van prayed that he wouldn't start crying.

“Van, I would never hurt her or any of my children, if that's what you're thinking.”

She shook her head. “But one thing did seem odd, and maybe she didn't really mean it, but she begged me to take her to Manhattan with me.”

“For a vacation?”

“No. I think she was talking about living there. She said Amelia would keep the kids.”

“Oh God.” Nate dropped his head to his hands. “I don't know what to do with her.”

“Just take her to someone who can tell you how to help her. I'm worried about her.”

Nate nodded, suddenly resolute. “I'll deal with Gigi, and I may even take you up on your house offer, but I'll pay you rent.”

“No—”

“Don't argue with me. We'll deal with this Gigi business, I promise you.” He took a deep breath. Chewed on his lip. “I've listened to you, and now it's time for you to listen to me.”

Van moved back ever so slightly. Was he mad that she'd meddled in their family affairs?

“Your father was a disappointed man.”

She jumped to her feet.

“Sit down. I never said anything as long as your mother was alive and you were a girl. But I'm going to say it now, and you're going to listen, then we'll forget all about it if you want.”

Van reluctantly sat down. She steeled herself to listen to excuses or incriminations about her father.

“Like I said, he was a disappointed man.”

“That didn't give him the right—”

“No, it didn't. But I want you to know both sides of that story, before you leave again. Maybe I shoulda said something sooner, but I didn't. Now I'm going to. And you're going to sit and listen till I'm done, then you'll have your turn.

“Robbie was a smart, talented boy. More than all the rest of us put together. He always wanted to be an artist. A painter. And he was. Got himself a scholarship to art school. Oh, he had a bright future—being poor and living from whatever he could earn from painting.”

It was hard for Van to imagine her father as an artistic young man. And yet she'd just seen his paintings.

“Our father wasn't so happy about his choice, but he went along
with it. Mama . . . you didn't know her. She died when we were just kids and she would have been a godsend to your daddy and mamma.” He drifted off, a slight smile on his face.

“At that time Robbie was going out with someone else, planned to marry her. But they had a fight or something, and he hooked up with your mother. It was spring break. All the kids were drinking and acting wild, like they do. Your mother got him at a vulnerable time. She wanted him and damn the consequences.

“And she got him. One night. One night of stupid, drunken college student madness and that was that. She got pregnant or so she said. And that it was his. That was all it took; both families demanded he do the right thing by her. There were tears shed. Some real fights. They both had tempers. She wanted him to stay and marry her. He just wanted it to all go away.

“But your mamma wasn't even out of high school, and she refused to put the baby up for adoption. He felt trapped, but he took it like a man . . . at first.”

“You make it sound like the Dark Ages.”

“It was around here. Still is in a lot of respects.

“Their families insisted. Robbie balked, because he loved someone else, but in the end he gave in. And there went his dreams. Lost his love. He was—and I'm sorry to say this—shackled to someone he didn't even like and someone who hated him for not loving her.”

Van tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She wanted to deny what he was saying, to say that her mother loved her father, and that he was the monster. But since she'd been in Whisper Beach, she was remembering things, scenes were flashing in her head, scenes that she'd spent her whole life interpreting in one way and which now didn't seem like the complete truth. Still she tried to deny what Nate was saying.

“He loved you, though. I know he didn't show it. He just got caught in a downward spiral. The families got together and got him a job at the post office. Of all things, the most boring, mindless job for a man like him I can imagine. He said he'd open up a store, or work in construction, but they'd gotten it into their heads that he'd have better benefits at the post office, insurance and a pension.”

Nate shook his head. “You can have no idea what that did to my brother. My baby brother.”

“No. My mother was always loving toward him; he ignored her.” But there had been times that her mother had instigated it. The looks, the innuendos that Van had brushed aside and buried because she didn't want to question her hatred. That hate had kept her warm at night, had made her strong, a survivor.

“Why didn't he divorce her? Or she could have divorced him.”

“Not here in the Dark Ages. Though I suspect Robbie tried. In the early days he still had hope of marrying Ruth.”

Van started. “Ruth?”

“That was the girl's name. I forget her last name, but she was a nice girl, and good for Robbie.” He sighed.

So one night of stupidity. Van could almost laugh out loud, but it would be her undoing. He'd probably done the same thing she'd done with pretty boy, and what she thought Joe had done to her.

Like father like daughter. She wanted to throw up. No wonder he'd called her a whore.

Nate lowered his head, looked up again. “I'll never forget the night he showed up at my door. It was a few weeks after he'd returned to school. He didn't have a break, so I knew something must be wrong. It was raining hard, which looking back was pretty damn appropriate.

“He told me he'd gotten her pregnant and she wanted him to marry her.”

“I thought he was nuts. We weren't even sure it was really his. Your mamma had a bit of a reputation. He didn't know, but once you were born it was pretty clear. You were a Moran through and through.

“Anyway the families swooped in and made him do the right thing. Me and my other brothers were pretty pissed. One mistake and the rest of your life is shot.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Not that he held it against you. Never.”

“He hated my mother for tricking him into marrying her.”

“Pretty much. His dream was ruined. Nobody even thought of that. We were all just normal folks with normal jobs, ordinary houses. But Robbie was a dreamer. And that ended for him pretty quick.”

“He hated me, too.”

“No never, not in his most horrible drunken state. Don't you remember anything good about him?”

Van shook her head, but there was a time at the Ocean City boardwalk, he won her a pink bear. It had been on her bed when she visited the house the other day. “No,” she said, trying to push the memory away. “He destroyed my glass paintings and kicked me out of the house.”

“Yeah, he'd stooped pretty low by the end. I think he was sorry.”

“He was happy when she died. He cried over her casket; I thought maybe he was sorry for what he'd done. But they were tears of joy. I wanted to kill him that day.”

“He wasn't happy,” Nate said shortly. “If he cried, it was because he'd done his duty and she'd left his life in tatters.”

“No, no.” Van didn't want to hear more. She didn't want to have anything else about her life turned upside down. She tried to stand up, but Nate pulled her back down.

“He wasn't a kind man, but he was a sweet and creative boy.”

“So who is this Ruth person that he lives with?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw him. He's painting again. He has a show over at the gallery in Whisper Beach. I saw him.”

“How was he? How did he look?”

“Just fine. He looked just fine. How come I never knew he wanted to be a painter? Is that why he was so awful when I tried to do anything like that?”

“I had no idea. What did he say? He hasn't talked to the family in years.”

“Nothing. Not that he would have, but I didn't give him a chance. But she came running after me. ‘Your father wants to see you. Here's our address.
Our
address.' Who the hell does she think she is? Why should he get to have an ‘our' when my mother didn't, when I don't?”

Nate just looked at her. Looked like he wanted to say something and then just gave up. “Her name was Ruth? Ruth . . . Singleton, I think that was her name.”

Van shrugged. “We didn't get to be that good of friends.”

“Vanessa Moran. Spite doesn't become you.”

“Not like it became my father.”

“Stop it. You don't know what you're talking about. I'll grant that you had a nasty childhood, but it took two people to make it that way. Believe me. Your mother was no saint. In fact, she wasn't even a nice person.” He stood up. “Thank you for telling me about Gigi. She won't be needing your house. We take care of our own.” He strode away, tossing his coffee cup in a trash receptacle without slowing his pace.