Galveston (42 page)

We set it for midnight on the next Thursday, a night of no performance. After I gave it more thought, I decided it was an even better idea than I had at first imagined. Luckily, the only window in the tower room—the one Roman called a “faker” because it didn't really open—faced the beach, and he could set a lighted candle there, its glow unseen except by people on a boat far out in the Gulf, or someone taking a midnight swim, both improbabilities.

The only problem lay in getting away, then back home safely. Roman offered to meet me somewhere near home, but I told him that surely would be more dangerous than if he waited at the Pavilion. No matter where Dad went, he was normally at home and in bed by ten-thirty or eleven, so unless Mother were to become ill in the night, it would be easy enough for me to leave my room, pass unseen down the hall, down the stairs, and outside. Once I was outside it would be even easier to get down to the beach, unless someone were out there. That was highly doubtful too, for there were no young people of my age group around Avenue L, who might be spooning on a front verandah or taking evening walks together that late. All the kids on our block were too young to be out after dark.

Still, as the night approached I became nervous and fidgety, and could I have notified Roman, I would have called it off. It was curious, but I could never seem to remember to tell him that, should I fail to show up for any of our meetings, it was because Mother was sick or something unforeseen had occurred, and I would be with him as soon as I could. I was always intending to mention that, then as soon as I reached his arms I would forget anything else existed. He had that effect on me from the beginning; he still does.

Therefore, with no advance explanation working for me, I had to go. If I didn't he might take it wrong and be put out with me, something I could not allow because I could never be sure how tenuous a hold I had on him.

At ten-thirty on Thursday night, I lay across the bed to wait. Dad was in bed and Mother was sleeping. It looked deceivingly simple to sneak away, yet I kept reminding myself how foolhardy it was to tempt fate. Hadn't we been lucky all summer long? Was my sudden thirst for adventure, gone wild, now to ruin it all?

I rose from the bed at eleven forty-five, and that was when it happened.

I felt a trickle of menstrual blood escape. I gasped in horror, then keened my ears to be sure I hadn't awakened anyone. I was already overdue a few days for the monthly showing, yet before then hadn't given it a thought.

By the time I'd made a detour into the bathroom, then slipped back into the bedroom, it was eleven fifty-two. I was to meet Roman in eight minutes. What could I do? What did one do when something like this occurred? It struck me then as a horrible irony: had I waited till morning, perhaps I could have figured some way to get out of going to meet Roman—sent James or something, to tell him I was ill and would have to stay in bed for a few days. But what could I do at midnight, except go? Perhaps I could persuade him all that time would allow was a walk on the beach. I prayed so.

Except for the hollow, rhythmic tick of the clock on the landing, the dark hall was silent. I walked slowly down the stairs, holding my skirt high and watching every step. When I reached the front door I remembered it sometimes will stick when there's dampness in the air. I turned the knob and pulled as gently as possible, and it came without hesitation. I felt better then. Perhaps this bit of luck would steel me for what lay ahead.

There was no one to be seen on Avenue L, and only the glow from an upstairs window here and there along my way indicated anyone might be awake. I had purposely worn dark navy, in order to remain unobtrusive, and I was thankful I'd thought of doing this, because the moon shone unusually bright. It would be so perfect for a walk along the beach.

It was a long way to the Pavilion, longer than ever it had seemed during the day, and by the time I neared the beach I was no longer walking, but running as fast as my legs would carry me, fearing all the time that Roman wouldn't be there when I arrived. This possibility always occurred to me as I walked to the beach by day; by night it seemed all the more threatening.

When I reached the stage door I looked above. The candle glowed warmly from the window, and I felt safe, like a sailor who spots a glowing lighthouse beacon in a foggy harbor. Yet as I opened the door and mounted the stairs, the feeling of safety ebbed away. The difficult part was yet to come.

He was standing in the open door at the top of the stairs, holding his arms out. “That's my girl. I knew you had nerves of iron, by God. Come here!”

I went to him, let him hold me for a moment, drawn by the warmth of him, then said, “You know, the moon is at its most beautiful just now. Why don't we go down for a walk?”

“Now? No, later, darling. I've been longing for you all evening … Look, I even swept the floor in honor of the occasion.” He'd already pulled me through the door and closed it, and now fiddled with the buttons of my navy dress. I was nearing panic.

“No, please, Roman!” I said, and grabbed his hands.

He let me go. “What is it?”

“Nothing, only time is short and I did so want to walk, I—”

“Come on, don't try to fool me. What's the matter?”

“Please don't ask.”

“Serena, your face is glowing brighter than that candle over there. Now, tell me.”

“You would make me, wouldn't you?” I said, and turned away. “You would have to pressure me into telling you—”

“As a matter of fact I would. Curiosity is one of my greatest shortcomings,” he said calmly, turning me back by the shoulders to face him. The mischievous look stole into his eyes.

“All right then. It's a—a—period. A period, if you must know!”

At this he slapped his knee and let go a shout of laughter. “You are so funny, Serena Garret. I knew as soon as you pulled away from me. Now, was it so bad after all? For heaven's sake, why make such a big to-do over nothing? Do you think I'm totally ignorant? As a matter of fact, I'd been wondering just when …”

“It's several days late, but that's not unusual for me,” I said, trying to match his offhanded tone. Yet I was looking away again as I spoke. In a moment he put his hand under my chin and made me look at him.

“I've tried to tell you not ever to be embarrassed about anything in front of me,” he said gently. “Serena, Serena, when will you drop these silly little-girl worries and become totally grown up? Come now, let's have a walk so that you can get back before anyone notices you're gone.”

We walked arm in arm down the stairs and out into the moonlight. I felt as though I'd just been through a hot tub bath, and my skin tingled with relief as we padded barefoot through the softness of the sand. When it was time to go, and we were at the edge of the beach and L, he said good-by and kissed me gently.

“On the other hand,” he said, “don't ever grow up fully. I like you just the way you are.”

My steps back home were more assured, and I had a pleasant feeling it had been a good thing, meeting in the moonlight. As Roman had said, a person has only one life to live, and he must make the most of every moment. That was the way I felt as I walked down L, as though I'd taken my moment, had dipped into the milk pail and skimmed the cream right off the top.

I wasn't watching where I was going, basking in the afterglow of what had just passed. Suddenly I felt myself hit from the side with a thud. It surprised me so I just did stifle a scream, then realized it was James, in the same instant that he, out of breath from running, discovered he'd bumped into me.

His face, now visible in the moonlight, was wet with tears. “It was the stupid séance,” he said. “They never came. They never came, the dirty, double-crossing, two-timing rats—”

“Oh, that … James, maybe they were found out by their parents. Did you think of that?”

“No, no … I was just sitting so long under the Madison house my back got stiff as a boot tree and I got cramps in my legs, and it finally dawned on me I'd been made the butt of a huge joke. It's happened to me lots of times, you know. I never thought they might have been found out.”

“Well, you'd best give them the benefit of the doubt,” I said, though I was convinced he was right in his first assumption. “You can find out tomorrow. Don't worry about it.”

“And you—where have you been?”

“None of your business,” I told him, and pulled his ear. “Get to bed now. We'll talk about this séance matter tomorrow.”

“Gee, Serena, you know, you're really swell.”

Later, in bed and unable to sleep, I looked out at the big benevolent moon which had led my way to and from the beach, and thought of the almost uncanny coincidence that I should meet up with James that night … how much he was like me really, reaching out to people in his loneliness.

I'd known from the beginning his hopes for the séance were no more than a pipe dream, and I only prayed that night my hopes for something lasting with Roman would not, in the end, amount to the same.

In the morning mail was a brief letter from Marybeth.

“… and how are things in quaint little old Galveston?” she wrote. “We're back in Paris for a few days, as you can tell from the envelope. I've met a new man, named Peppi (the last name I would not even attempt to pronounce, much less to spell—he's Austrian, I think). Last night we had dinner at a cute little sidewalk cafe, then took a stroll down the Champs Elysees.…

“To tell you the truth, the food was no better than at the Ladies' dining room at the Bon Ton at home, but Peppi was a delight—very handsome, with thick moustache and curly black hair. It rained (it always rains in Paris when we're here) and absolutely ruined a new pair of shoes I got in Marseilles.…

“Is
anything
exciting happening there? Hope your little friend hasn't had any more man-of-war stings. I told Dad, and he was furious a thing such as that could happen right off our property. The nerve of the little rascals!!!

“We're coming home in September, don't know which day yet. I considered staying here to go to school, but changed my mind. Europe is fine for visiting but every place becomes boring sooner or later. I'd as soon go to school in the States, or maybe not go at all. Life is wonderful, so full of options.…

“I've bought you the most darling music box, can't wait to give it to you. It plays ‘The Blue Danube Waltz,' and the little dancer on top looks almost as graceful as you. Certainly she looks nothing at all like me!

“Well, darling, do write if you have time. Just send the letter to the usual address in London, and Dad's agent there will have it forwarded. Love and kisses to you … see you in the fall.”

The letter was typical Marybeth: breezy and light, reflecting her personality so vividly she might have been standing two feet away, telling me the news. The first line of this one, though, prompted my immediate reply. I would tell her a few things that would show her Galveston was perhaps not quite so quaint as she thought.

Yet, when I sat down to write, there was so little to say, without betraying more than I wanted to. I decided to tell her straightforwardly about Roman, with none of the coquettish little phrases I'd tried to insert the first time I wrote to her, earlier in the summer. I could not resist, however, mentioning that Roman was going on thirty years old, had a rather doubtful background, and that I was seeing him without knowledge of anyone except James. I told her I knew she would never betray my secret to anyone, although I must admit I recognized all too fully she was hardly in the position to anyway.

I wanted to tell her how far things had gone, yet when I tried to write it, it seemed too much like parroting things she'd done many times. Our love was meaningful, not like the times she'd given favors to men just for the excitement of it. Yet it was difficult to put this into words. Perhaps the subtle approach, telling her only that we met on the sly, would be just as effective … let her guess the rest, if she chose.

In the afternoon as I was practicing ballet on the porch, James came out the back of Claire's house, slamming the door behind him, and walked around toward the front yard.

“Hey there, you look awfully busy, what's up?” I called to him.

“I've got problems with the Bakers,” he said hurriedly, and walked on. His manner made me uneasy and I went to the porch edge and called him back. “You're not going over there to start a fight about last night, are you?”

“They did just what I expected,” he said. “Today they pretend they never heard of any séance, and Delta's got my picture. I'm going to get it now, or else.”

“James, wait! Look, at least let me change and go with you. If those hooligans tie into you, you'll wish you had stayed home. Perhaps I can help.”

“No. It's my problem and I'll work it out for myself. Besides, I know better than to pick a fistfight with them. I've something else in mind, and I think it'll work very effectively. See 'ya.”

It was an uncommonly hot day for practicing. I wiped the perspiration from my neck and face, took a sip of lemonade, and continued. Practicing had taken on new importance these days because, though I still knew of no outlet for my dancing in the end, now that Roman had been so encouraging, I had a feeling it would be wise to be ready at all times, in case opportunity ever presented itself. I was afraid to dwell on the possibilities very much, however; just practiced, knowing it certainly could do no harm …

It was some fifteen minutes before James ambled back, hands in pockets, whistling a tune. I went to the porch edge. “Did you get the picture?”

“Right here,” he said, patting his shirt pocket. “I knew Delta Baker wouldn't be able to turn down my offer.”

“What, pray, did you offer?”

“Five dollars. I told her if she could somehow manage to locate that picture I had lost around her place, there would be five dollars in it for her.”