Galveston (64 page)

“Serena was grateful, but turned down the idea, and that was when she told me she was running away. She gave me no details, and at the time I'm not sure she knew all of them herself. It didn't matter, though. The fact was, she was leaving, and it broke my heart. I was no good at making friends, and I'd counted so on her friendship, then to have it blown away as with the wind … I was worried about her, too. Even at this point, I still wasn't positive Roman could be trusted, although I realize now this was only because I loved her so, nobody would have measured up as good enough to take her away from me.

“On the morning of September 7, I stopped next door to give Serena that slip of paper you brought today, then went with Tommy Driscoll crabbing. We caught three dozen good-sized ones and had them sold within an hour.

“Serena hadn't even said
when
she was leaving. Roman had probably urged her not to take any unnecessary chances that I might spill the information to someone. I knew the departure was to be soon, because the band had to go back to New York. I figured I could find out anyway, by just keeping my eyes open. That night I went up to my room after supper and watched her house, to see if there was any sign of her sneaking out. The house was quiet. The light stayed on in her mother's room, across from my own, till sometime after ten o'clock, and then shortly after, the downstairs lights went out.

“If I put my face to the glass and moved back as far as possible toward the window facing, I could just see someone walking from the Garret house down their front walk. I watched for Serena to depart until after midnight, then, tired out and with a crick in my neck, I went to bed, knowing I'd guessed wrong about a nighttime rendezvous. And that winds up the background of the summer.”

He paused there, rose from his chair, walked over to the window, and lifted the shade. I could tell we'd come to the part that was painful to him, the part that perhaps made him wish I'd never showed up at his office door, but I couldn't let him stop now …

He cleared his throat and stared out the window, and folded his arms in front of him as though to shield himself from some sort of purge. His voice was low as he continued …

“Willa, I think it only fair that I tell you … because of what I did that next day, your mother is certain to have suffered severe disfigurement for the rest of her life.”

I caught my breath as I thought of her again, imprisoned somewhere in an institution. Before, the conjecture had seemed almost foolish, yet now …

Chapter 10

“It was blazingly hot that morning of September eighth, hotter than it had been all summer long. When I woke up my clothes were sticking to me and I'd soaked a big spot on my pillow with perspiration. I got up and dressed and started downstairs. I was planning to follow Serena to the beach, but Claire had something else in mind.

“‘And where are you off to this morning?' she asked.

“‘Oh, just around.'

“‘My, aren't we secretive. Well, not today. I want you to help me rearrange some boxes up in the attic, to make room for some things I'm going to move up. It won't take long.'

“Thus I was stuck, unable even to check on whether Serena went to the beach, and angry for having my plans foiled. We moved boxes and stacked junk in the attic until ten-thirty or so, then Claire sat down and said, ‘Whew, it is stuffy up here, isn't it! Tell you what, here's a quarter. You go down to Schott's for two chocolate sodas. Hurry back, now, and we'll get to work and finish this by noon.'

“I did as she said, looking forward to the chocolate soda but still wishing I'd been able to follow Serena to the beach. I stole a glance down that way as I walked out the front gate, and even was tempted to bolt, but I couldn't see anything anyway, and didn't want to be faced with having disobeyed Claire.

“When I came back, Claire was standing at the fence, motioning for me to hurry. ‘It's Serena's mother, taken ill,' she said. ‘Mrs. McCambridge can't locate Rubin, so we must find Serena and get her home. Do you know what part of the beach she'd be on? Or is she there today?'

“I stood tongue-tied for a minute, knowing to tell would be to betray my only friend in the world.

“‘Well? You must know?'

“‘I'll go and get her,' I said finally.

“‘Nothing doing. We'll board the rig and go together. It'll be twice as fast. Janet is very ill, you see, and time is of the utmost …'

“She was walking toward the barn as she spoke to me, and I was following her numbly, my knees like jelly. Perhaps they were already gone, I thought, and if so, all the better. Except Serena would want to be with her mother if Mrs. Garret needed her. She'd never forgive me if I failed to get her in time, and the way my cousin had explained the situation, I was sure Janet Garret must be dying.

“The wind had begun to take on a kind of chill as we pulled out of the barn and headed down L—we'd had no rain the whole of August, and everything was dry as overcooked chicken. The sun had disappeared; the sky was turning sad. Claire kept repeating, ‘Oh, I hope it won't rain. This time of year one never knows—oh, it mustn't rain now.'

“I thought it odd she should mind, after having tapped her barometer all month long in hopes it would show a good shower in store, and griping about the effects of baking sun on the flowers in her care at the church garden. Then I realized she probably feared a hard rain would impede our speed in returning Serena to her mother's bedside.

“I directed her to the right once we got to the beach, and the closer we came to the Seaside Pavilion, the more frightened I got at this thing I was doing. Perhaps Serena would be mad; maybe she wouldn't want to know if her mother was ill. What if I'd ruined her plans with Roman by telling where she was?

“Maybe they weren't even there. Maybe Serena had gone off somewhere else. I was so busy worrying about betraying her that I almost forgot to tell Claire to stop in front of the Seaside Pavilion.

“It didn't matter, though. She already knew.

“She pulled up about a hundred feet from the door, and said, ‘This is it, isn't it?' And I knew then poor Serena hadn't kept her secret after all.

“‘I think so,' I said.

“‘Very well, then. You run along and get her. I'll wait for you here.'

“The wind was really kicking up, whipping the flags on the building as I walked up to the door. The Seaside Pavilion was a conglomeration of turrets and battlements, and projections coming out in all directions, and flags flying everywhere—I believe I counted twenty-nine flags altogether one time. I really hoped the place would be deserted, but when I looked up at the towers, I saw the candle burning in the window of one. They must have only just lit it, as the sky was now turning dark gray.

“I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be anywhere else in the world right then, but I tried the front door, found it unlocked, and stole in. Serena had told me once that they met sometimes in the tower, but I'd never been up there. I went into a little hallway and faced a tall, spiraling stairway. I still couldn't make up my mind, knew that hesitation might keep Serena from seeing her mother before she died, but I knew too that what I was doing might forever make her look upon me as a traitor. I stood at the railing for a moment, my perspiring hand gripping it as though it were the line of a lifebuoy. Then I walked up.

“I could hear their voices inside. By this time the whole of the band was gone from the premises. The musicians hadn't come from their hotel in town that morning because the shows were over and they had only to go straight to the Union Depot. Just as I lifted my hand to knock, I thought I heard a door open somewhere downstairs, but it was a flash across my mind, nothing more. The thunder outside was rumbling like a cannon in a battle far away. I was sweating like a field hand, but resigned at last to go through with it.

“‘Yes, what is it?' It was Roman's voice, angry. A chill went through me. I couldn't take lightly the anger of Roman Cruz. There was a hesitation, a rustling, and I knew Serena was there too. Yet I asked anyway. ‘What business is it of yours?' Roman demanded.

“‘I'm sorry. Serena's mother is ill and my cousin and I have come to take her home,' I told him.

“There was muffled conversation then, and finally Serena's voice a little louder saying flatly, ‘Go ahead and open it.'

“He did so, and I saw the tower room for the first time. It was a grubby little place, with a small bare bed in one corner. Serena was fully dressed, and her carpetbag and purse were in another corner on a wooden chair.

“‘Tm so sorry,' I said. ‘I didn't know whether to come or not, but Claire says it's serious.'

“Serena looked at Roman as he moved to close the door. ‘Mother did have one spell early in the summer, couldn't stop vomiting. We never found out what it was.'

“I began to bawl then, and while Roman leaned against the window, looking out, Serena came and knelt in front of me. ‘It's all right, James, you did right. We just need a moment or two to make some rearrangements in plans.'

“‘If there can
be
any rearranging at this point,' Roman said.

“I started for the door then, so they could be alone, and heard Roman say, ‘You know if you don't leave now there's no use—'

“And that's when it happened. The door swung open, almost hitting me in the face, and there stood Claire, smiling like a cat just about to get his paw on a goldfish. I shall never forget that expression.

“Roman's voice filled the room. ‘What in hell?'

“‘No need to hurry,' Claire told him. ‘You must forgive my little lie about Janet, Serena, but it was the only way I could figure of getting all of us here together so I could tell you a little story—this one the truth. Now, it won't take too long if the three of you will just get over there to one side, and I'll close this door so we won't be disturbed by anything …'

“I don't know why we obeyed her so readily, but I moved toward Serena, and she took me by the shoulder and pulled me close to her as she moved next to Roman. Roman, independent to the end, stood exactly where he had been, observing Claire with a coolness only he could pull off.

“‘Where best to begin,' she said then. ‘I have a little information for Serena, about her … shall we say unusual?… background. It's in this letter, which I found in a box I'd been storing in James's room until the day he arrived. You must all appreciate the irony in that—no telling when I'd have gotten around to going carefully through the boxes in there, if James hadn't been coming. They'd been sent from Charles's office shortly after his death three years earlier, you know.

“‘Well, to continue, and we mustn't tarry for time is important … the letter is from James's mother, Ruth, to my husband, Charles, and dated just one week prior to his death.

“‘“Dear Charles,” she wrote, “I have wonderful news. We are expecting a child in the coming winter. I do hope this one will be a girl, to make up in some way for having missed out on Serena's growing up. Not that I don't love James more than anything in the world, but we both know the frustration of having a child we can never acknowledge as our own.

“‘“I've been so grateful for every letter you've written to me—have them all hidden together in a little cache in the attic, just as a young girl would hide her love letters—telling me of her progress, especially in dancing. I know your financial help to poor Rubin makes the lessons possible, and I only hope they can continue for as long as she wants to take them. You've been so good to our child in a million ways, while I've done nothing. And how painful it must have been all these years, knowing your own daughter was so close, yet could never be told the truth.”'

“Here, Claire paused for effect, and looked across at Serena, who'd gone pale.

“‘“Of course, then, the final and ultimate cruelty—having had to give up the mayor's race because those scoundrels who opposed you somehow found out, and had the nerve to actually send someone into the sanctity of your home and threaten to expose you and our daughter—all of us. You have suffered so … my dearest Charles, you've no idea how this has plagued me over the years, and in as real a sense as can be, I have suffered along with you.

“‘“Of course I'm thankful more than words could express for Rubin's and Janet's great generosity in caring for Serena as their own; no matter what happened, they surely saved the day for us. Had they not intervened when they did, you and I might have done the foolhardy, selfish act we considered, and run away together, throwing all caution aside. I wanted to so much, so much. Of course I can see now the mistake in doing it. We'd have wounded poor Claire even worse than we already had, and I simply could not have borne that on my conscience. At least, Charles, you and I have been the only ones to suffer from all this … the only ones who ever shall suffer from our misdeeds, God willing!

“‘“I must end this now as I see Edward driving up outside. I do love Edward, you know, and he believes I love him and have never loved anyone else. He is the perfect father for his son James, and will be, I am sure, to this next child. Keep praying for a girl, won't you? Lovingly, Ruth.”'

“She folded the letter and slipped it back into her pocket, then said, ‘Well, James, it was just within days after Charles's death that poor little Ruth had a miscarriage, wasn't it? I wouldn't wonder, knowing the letter was either on its way or already here, and that I might have gotten hold of it. It seems a strange twist, too, that the very first thing I did upon Charles's death was to notify Ruth and Edward by wire. She thought she suffered before, what agony she must have felt knowing this letter was floating around!

“‘There now, you have the history of what's been done to me, and you know that you and Serena are half brother and sister. You might just as well enjoy it for now, because you won't have very long to do so.'