A Lethal Legacy (5 page)

"Allison can
answer that better than me. I'll talk to her tonight, and then call you back.
And, Gary? Congratulations, I hope you and Pamela are as happy as Ally and
I."

"Thanks, Ed.
That means a lot," Gary said just before hanging up.

Claire and Philip
Townsend held the small wedding in the back yard of their house on Bydding
Street. The sprawling house could have raised three or four children instead of
just Gary, but that had not been in the cards for Aunt Claire and Uncle Philip.

At Gary's request,
they kept the ceremony small, but his parents insisted on inviting more than a
hundred people from the Ann Arbor community for a reception immediately
afterwards.

Both Gary and Pamela
looked like models for the bride and groom wedding cake toppers except that
Pamela wore a short ivory lace gown with no veil, and Gary wore a good black
suit instead of a tuxedo. However, they both glowed from the excitement and
champagne.

I offered my
congratulations both privately to the couple and in a prepared toast in front
of all of the guests. I once again mentioned that I hoped they would be as
happy as Allison and I. When I went to kiss Pamela, she seemed very drunk and
stumbled as she reached out to embrace me.

"Thanks, Eddie,
you're a sweetheart. Are we kissing cousins now?" she asked seductively
while her hands traced the outline of my shoulders.

"Not quite. Take
care of Gary. He needs to be loved," I said while pulling away from her
embrace. I also felt the need to warn her about something, but I wasn't quite
sure about what.

"You'll be my
friend, too, won't you, Ed?" She asked.

"I am your
friend. Just don't hurt Gary, ever, OK?" I looked straight into her blue
eyes, and she glared back defiantly.

"Don't worry,
I'll take care of your precious Gary," she said before she staggered away.

After a honeymoon in
Las Vegas, Gary and Pamela settled back into life in Chicago, and I didn't hear
anything from them for a very long time. Aunt Claire kept me up to date on
their life, but usually she just told me what they had bought, how much it
cost, and how successful Gary was becoming as an advertising executive.

Gary finally found a way
to please both his parents by wearing the right wardrobe, acquiring the most
possessions, buying the perfect house, and marrying the proper wife.

I attempted to get
comfortable on the couch in New Orleans as I thought about the way both of our
marriages ended. Mine with little fanfare, Gary's with a huge explosion. I
finally fell asleep in the early morning hours with my mind back twenty years
ago.

We managed to spend
the next day showing Kristina the sights of New Orleans. She entranced both of
us as we took the cemetery tours, rode the riverboat, and ate crawfish pie at
Cafe Beignet. I had almost forgotten the feelings that Kristina had evoked in
me the previous night, almost but not quite. There were moments when Gary left
us alone to order food, go to the bathroom, or buy tickets that we would look
at one another, and I would remember. I fought to keep my hands away from her
hair, away from any part of her.

As soon as Gary
returned to us, the atmosphere changed, and Kristina became the doting
daughter. I had never seen Gary so happy and so eager to please anyone else. I
even noticed that he stopped bothering his thumb, maybe because he wore a band-aid
over the raw part he opened during the past few days. After a leisurely dinner
in the courtyard at the Court of Two Sisters, we headed back to the apartment.
We all decided it had been a full day, and we were all settled in our beds
before eleven. I fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime around dawn,
I woke with a start. Raucous laughter made its way down the hallway of the
apartment. Suddenly, I realized that the rhythmic pounding came from whoever
was in the guest room.

Gary walked into the
living room still in his underwear rubbing his eyes and looking as if he was
still sleeping.

"What's going
on?" He motioned toward the guest room.

"Not sure. The
noise just woke me up, too. I guess I slept pretty soundly last night."     

"Who'd she bring
here? Doesn't she realize how dangerous this town is?"

"I guess not.
Should we go investigate?" I began pulling on my abandoned pants and
running my fingers through my hair.

The noise continued
in the other room, and I tried not to imagine what the stranger might be doing
with Kristina. "Should we do something?" I asked again. Gary stood
immobilized in the center of the room.

"You bet we do
something. We throw whoever's in there with her out on his scrawny ass."
He headed for the bedroom and knocked loudly several times before the noises
stopped.

"Kris, please
come out here."

Gary waited by the
door for a few minutes before Kris appeared.

"What?" she
asked, standing in the doorway stark naked with her hair wildly surrounding her
face.

"Who's in
there?" Gary pushed past her into the bedroom.

There I stood facing
Kristina, attempting to look anywhere but at her body. I finally turned away
but not before absorbing the sight of her body into my memory bank.

I could hear Gary
give some commands and soon a scruffy-looking boy came bounding out of the room,
zipping his pants and carrying his boots.

"See you around,
baby," he said as he leaned down to plant a loud smack on Kristina's
forehead.

Gary and his daughter
stood glaring at one another even after the door slammed.

"Don't ever
bring slime like that into this apartment again," Gary said. "Your
mother may not have had any rules for you, young lady, but you will follow my
rules as long as you stay under my roof."

Kristina started to
protest, but when she looked up into Gary's face and saw the anger blazing from
his eyes, she shut her mouth and slammed back into the bedroom.

"Gary, how long
is she staying here?" I asked when he came back into the living room.

"We haven't
really discussed it, but we've talked about going to Florida for Christmas,
remember? I assumed she would stay at least until then."

"Has she asked
you for money?"

"Not really. I
noticed yesterday that she didn't seem to have cash, so I offered her some
spending money. She seemed reluctant to take it. Why?"

"I gave her some
money the other night, too," I said.

"Really?
Why?" He seemed puzzled.

"She said she
was broke, and I felt sorry for her, that's all. But I wonder why she needs so
much cash."

"Not sure, but
I'm not footing her bills to play the slut in New Orleans, that's for sure.
Even if I do feel responsible for how she got this way." Gary turned to go
into the kitchen.

"I think you
need to be wary. She may be your daughter, but you don't really know her.
Remember, keep in perspective, for fifteen formative years you had no input
into her life," I said as I followed him into the kitchen.

"Ed, I know you
mean well, but let me handle this my own way, OK?"

"That's all,
Gary, just be careful. I'm going to head back today. I think you and Kristina
will be all right, and I've got some work to do."

"You're going
back today? I thought you were leaving Monday."

"I thought you
and Kristina should have more time alone before you go back to work on
Monday." I did think they should have some time alone, but mostly I needed
to get out of there.

"You're probably
right. I may not always show that I appreciate it, but you're a real friend, you
know?" Gary grinned at me before turning back to make the coffee.

I got up to finish
packing before breakfast and tried not to feel guilty. If I was such a good
friend to Gary, why did the image of Kristina as she stood naked in the doorway
of the guest room keep popping into my mind and why did it take longer each
time to brush it away? It remained as the only clear image in my mind of the
whole weekend.

He dreamed about her
last night. He hoped that the creature of his imagination would become a reality.
This apparition, his angel and vision of the perfect woman, walked toward him
when he awoke, and he reached for her certain that his future would be secure.
When his arms tried to embrace her, she disappeared into the mists, and his
arms remained empty.

When they came to
Florida for Christmas, Gary and Kristina spent large amounts of time
socializing with the family since Claire and Philip made quite a fuss over the
returning granddaughter. One night they insisted on throwing a bash for all the
country club folks to introduce their own little princess.

And a princess is
exactly how they treated her. Kristina seemed quite at home with all of the
attention and played her role to the hilt. I watched from the sidelines and
even began to enjoy myself in her presence, although I made sure to avoid any
alone time with her. That was fairly easy because between my mother, Claire,
and Aunt Susan, Kristina had plenty of chaperones.

I wondered if
Kristina would get tired of the attention lavished on her. She certainly never
received anything like it as a child except for maybe when she was a tiny baby
before Pam took her away.

Claire and Philip
gave Kristina plenty of money to spend, and the women took her shopping nearly
every day.

"My car will
only hold so much, Mom," Gary told Claire one afternoon when the
"girls" returned from a shopping spree at the mall.

"Maybe Kristina
will have to stay here. How would that suit you, Mr. Selfish?" Claire
reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Do you really think
she needs all this stuff?" Gary asked.

"Look who's
talking. How many suits and ties do you own? Why shouldn't I enjoy spoiling her
for a little while?"

"OK, Mom, have
your fun, but remember you created this monster."

"Are you calling
my granddaughter a monster?"

"Not a chance,
not a chance."

I loved to watch
Claire and Gary together like this without Philip around to spoil things. They
enjoyed a casual relationship that I had never been able to establish with my
own mother. Partially it had to do with Claire. She had an easy-going,
accepting style with just about everyone. She was confidant and outgoing,
whereas my own mother had always felt inadequate particularly around Claire. It
showed in my mother's relationships with others; she couldn't let down her
guard because I sensed she felt she might give away some inadequacy or
character flaw if she let anyone get too close.

One night between
Christmas and New Years, Gary and I had the opportunity to talk alone in the
kitchen at Claire and Philip's house. The night, a chilly one for Florida, kept
us transplanted southerners at the kitchen table instead of taking our
traditional walk through the neighborhood.

"What will she
do now?" I asked.

"I'm not really
sure. She hasn't talked about going back to Las Vegas, and I don't think she's
even called her mother since she arrived. I've decided that she'll be welcome
to stay with me under certain conditions."

"And, they
are?"

"First, a job.
She needs a job. I'm not going to foot her partying bills."

"Have you told
her this?"

"In so many
words."

"How many words,
Gary?"

"Now, come on,
Cuz, I'll tell her. It's not easy since I haven't had her around. At least she
doesn't bring scum home anymore."

"And you feel
guilty?" I asked.

"Maybe, I don't
know." Gary shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands. "I worry
though."

"About
what?"

"She's a little
wild, not like we were in college. Sometimes I don't think she's aware of what
she's doing. It's like she doesn't have a conscience." Gary whispered this
last sentence and looked over his shoulder as if someone might walk in on him
and overhear.

"But maybe with
your influence?" I left the question hanging in the air.

"Maybe, but she
seems to make fun of me sometimes. Like I'm stupid or something. It's usually
when I'm trying to show her some affection. It's a little scary."

"Sometimes she
does the same thing with me. She changes into this tough little street kid and
tries to be hurtful."

"When I bring up
topics that seem like I might be criticizing her or suggesting that she might
change in some way, she becomes defensive. That's why we haven't really
discussed a job yet."

"You need to put
your foot down, Gary, really. If she wants to stay, she's got to work or go to
school. You shouldn't feel like you owe her. Maybe you can get her to take some
college courses?" I really couldn't imagine Kristina going to school and
taking it seriously, but maybe I hadn't seen that side of her.

"I know, but I'm
a little afraid." He hung his head and rubbed his hands together.

Aunt Claire walked in
the kitchen at this precise moment.

"What are you
afraid of, Gary?" she asked.

"Nothing,
really. I was just talking to Ed about Kris," he said.

"Kris? What
about her? Isn't she the beautifullest, most stupenderific granddaughter,
ever?" She looked at us as if challenging us to disagree.

"Yes, Mom, she's
the best, but I think she needs to get a job."

"Sure, sure.
There's time for that. Give her time. Remember you boys weren't all that great
at life and relationships when you first started out either. And you had my
fine influence all the time you were growing up!"

Claire had a point
there although she didn't know half of it. Gary and I made messes out of our
first marriages. The shame of it was that we never tried very hard to save
either of them and were swept up into the relationships without considering our
partners' feelings or needs. We just went along with the course of our life
without thinking. And we both paid dearly.

My toast and wishes
for Pam and Gary at their wedding turned out to be horribly ironic. Almost from
the beginning of my marriage to Ally, something went wrong. At first, we were
busy with the decorating and refinishing of our new home. We did little else in
our spare time. Both of us settled into comfortable positions at Pioneer High
School. I taught creative writing and elective literature courses that I designed
myself. Allison taught history and became an advisor for several service clubs
bringing her into contact with the socially prominent Rotary and Kiwanis Clubs
in Ann Arbor.

When the house was
finished, Allison began throwing elaborate dinner parties. At first, the guests
consisted of her parents and some of their friends and their children who were
our age. I didn't enjoy these events, but Allison thrived on making four course
dinners and showing off her china, crystal, and gleaming house. She began
scouring the antique markets and making rather substantial purchases for our
home. She insisted that all of the pieces come from the same era as our house.
Soon our dwelling began to look like a museum for antique American furniture
and design.

When she had the
house exactly the way she wanted, she began working on me. I'd rather she kept
piling up our debts while purchasing furniture. When she looked at me, I could
tell she felt differently about our relationship. Our sex life, at first,
didn't suffer, but the more she harped on my shortcomings, the less I wanted
her sexually.

"I don't
understand why you won't apply for the position of vice principal," she said
one Saturday morning over bagels and coffee. This position suddenly became
available at PHS when the current vice principal was fired.

"I'm happy where
I am," I said, not for the first time.

"But the money,
Ed. It would mean $5,000 more a year."

"I'm not
interested. If I took that job, I'd never get my novel done."

"
Your novel
!
You're never going to go anywhere with that."

"Ally, I don't
want to talk about it anymore."

In recent months, she
taken to ridiculing the one thing that kept me alive, my writing. No longer did
she care what I wrote.

"Sure, you don't
want to talk about it anymore. You just want everything handed to you without
working for it. You enjoy this home I've made for us, but what did you ever do
to deserve it? You didn't have any problem letting my parents buy it for us. Do
you expect them to continue footing the bill?

"This
conversation is over, Ally. Why don't you apply for the position? You need
something to do during the summer."

"I might do
that, if you could handle your wife earning more than you."

"Allison, money
means nothing to me. You should know that by now."

"If it means so
little, then how come you can so easily accept my daddy's money?"

I got up from the
breakfast table and stomped away. I hated these arguments. Allison seemed to be
changing before my eyes, and I much preferred my novel's characters to those
living in my own house. Also, I knew her words of accusation held the hint of
truth.

By the time school
ended in June 1967, Allison and I no longer talked of finishing the hardwood
floors in our house and instead argued about who would get custody of our
German Shepherd. My toast at Gary's wedding, just two months before, echoed its
falsehood in my mind.

Allison received the
appointment to vice principal and was seriously being considered as principal
of the new high school being planned near the Huron River on the north side of
town. Even though it wouldn't open until the fall of 1969, Allison would
probably leave PHS in 1968 to begin working on the plans and design and hiring
of an entirely new faculty. She would be making more money than the two of us
combined if the job materialized.

During the summer of
love everywhere else in the country, Allison and I decided to separate. Allison
would keep the house, while I would be forced back into an apartment just like
my college days. However, instead of minding, I found myself eager to be on my
own again. I managed to find a small place in an old house on Main Street
across from the University of Michigan's stadium and close to PHS.

However, before moving,
I began the first of what would become an annual summer adventure of travel.
Allison graciously allowed me the use of the spare bedroom to store my meager
belongings, which consisted of everything I owned before the marriage, until I
returned in August.

With my little
savings, I bought a used Volkswagen van and set out for the West for two
months. I had little money but lots of notebooks and film for my camera. I
didn't know what I would write, but I hoped it would be something that captured
the changing mood of the country.

I visited my parents
one warm evening in late June. We sat in the living room of their small house
in Ypsilanti.

"Mom, Dad, I
need to tell you something. Allison and I are getting a divorce."

My mother looked at
me sharply while my father continued watching Walter Cronkite relate the day's
events on the small TV set in the corner.

"What will I
tell Claire and Philip? You'll be the first one in the family to ever divorce.
Somehow Claire will manage to blame me," my mother said.

My mother, Marjorie
Townsend, was ashamed of everything in her life except for me. I was her one
proud success, and now I disappointed her beyond measure.

I ran my fingers
through my hair as I stared at my mother who turned gray and old before my
eyes. My dad said little from his recliner in front of the TV. He grunted and
told my mother it was my life.

"Stanley, say
something to him."

"He never
listens to anything I say, why would he start now," my father said as he
lifted the beer can to his mouth.

I decided to make
Gary’s and Pamela's house the first stop on my trip west at the beginning of
July. They had moved to Evanston, an upscale suburb of Chicago, and lived in a
comfortable old two-story home that seemed ready-made for many children.

"Eddie, I'm so
glad you came to visit," Pam gushed as she greeted me in the driveway
before I could even open the door of my van.

"Pam, good to
see you. Where's that cousin of mine?" I reached to hug her and could
smell the gin of her late afternoon cocktail.

"Oh, he'll be here
shortly, I imagine. Some nights he's really late, but not tonight, not with you
here." She hugged me and pressed her perfect figure against me. She would
have continued to hold me close if I hadn't pulled away from her.

" Eddie, you're
so handsome." She tried leaning toward me again.

"Come on, Pam,
stop it," I said.

"Come on inside,
then." She grabbed my hand and pulled me across the front lawn and into
the house.

"How about a
drink, Ed?"

"Sure, a beer
would be fine."

When she came back
into the living room, she handed me the beer managing to let her hand linger a
long moment over mine. I grabbed the drink and turned away to open it.

"I scare you,
don't I, Eddie?" she asked.

"No, of course
not, Pam."

"Yes, I do. It's
all right. Gary will be home soon so I won't attack you again. Besides I think
I'd rather have you as a friend more than anything else." She walked over
to the bar and poured herself a healthy shot of gin.