Good Harbor (26 page)

“I’ve got to see this lady rabbi he’s raving about,” Jack said, waggling his eyebrows,
à la Groucho.

“Not tonight,” Kathleen said. “Next week. We’ll all go then. You know” — she paused
— “for the anniversary.”

“I only go if she goes,” Buddy said.

Hal’s smile evaporated. Kathleen remembered how, as a little boy, he would put his
pinkies into the corners of his mouth and pull them down into a deep frown when she
said no to his request for a later bedtime or a second bowl of ice cream.

“I’m sorry, Hally. I’m just worn-out. Don’t be mad. Please?”

He shrugged.

“Say hi to Michelle for me,” she called as they walked out the door.

KATHLEEN WAS DOING
laundry when the doorbell rang. She ran upstairs and, slightly out of breath, opened
the door on Jimmy Parley. He was out of uniform, in a sports shirt and pressed jeans.
Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he apologized for interrupting. His
face seemed flushed.

“What’s wrong, Jimmy? Is Buddy okay?”

“Yes. He’s fine. It’s nothing to do with your family. It’s your friend, Mrs. Tabachnik.”

“Oh my God. Has Joyce been in an accident?”

“No,” Jimmy said. “Look, there’s no good way to say this. Can I come in for a sec?”

Kathleen opened the screen door and Jimmy stepped into the foyer. He stood close to
her and talked in a hushed rush, as though someone might walk in on them.

“There’s going to be a drug bust in Rockport within the hour. There’s a man we’ve
been keeping under surveillance, and . . .” Jimmy took a breath. “Mrs. Tabachnik has
been, uh, seeing him. I know she doesn’t have anything to do with his, uh, activities.
But she could get caught in the middle of something.

“I shouldn’t even be here. I just found out, and, well, I’m just saying that you might
want to go stop her. It might be too late to find her at home. You’ll have to go Rockport
before she’s inside that apartment.

“If she goes, when she goes, she gets there at noon. So if you just happen to be around
there a few minutes before then, you’ll catch her.”

He handed her a folded scrap of paper. Kathleen opened it and read an address.

“It’s behind that sub shop on Broad. The door’s in the back, off the parking lot.
If she isn’t there by twelve-fifteen, you just leave, okay?”

Kathleen nodded.

“Like I said, I just found out it was today, and I had to decide. So I hope I did
right by coming to you, Mrs. Levine.”

“You did right, Jimmy.” Kathleen thanked him, closed the door, and started looking
for her car keys. It had been a while since she’d used them or even seen them. They
weren’t in her purse. Or on the table in the foyer. Or in the junk drawer in the kitchen.

Oh, Lord.

She went to the closet and rummaged through the pockets of her raincoat, her jacket.

Oh, no.

She ran up to the bedroom and looked in her other purse, in her sweatshirt pockets.

“Please, please, please,” she muttered.

Feeling through the drawer in Buddy’s nightstand, she thought she heard something
jingle. She dumped the contents onto the bed. Lots of change but no keys.

Then, remembering the spares, she ran to the back of the garage.

What would she have done if Hal had taken the car today? she thought, pulling out
of the driveway. What would she have done if Jack had been home and wanted to know
where she was going without brushing her hair or putting on shoes?

She raced out of her driveway and down the street, leaning forward, honking to get
the car ahead of her to hurry up and pull out onto the highway.

Take it easy, she told herself. This is no time to get a ticket. She didn’t even have
her license. No money, no watch even. The clock on the dashboard hadn’t worked for
years.

She had time, didn’t she? Jimmy had come to the door — when was it, eleven-fifteen?
Or was it later than that? How long had she wasted looking for the keys?

Her hands were sticky on the wheel, and she could feel her heart pounding, but not
the way it did when she was on the bridge. She just had to get there before Joyce
. . . What was Joyce doing at noon with a drug dealer?

“As if I didn’t know,” she muttered, grateful to find a parking spot only a few doors
up from the sub shop. She retrieved a pair of Buddy’s thongs from the trunk and peered
through the realty storefront window, looking for a clock. It was 11:48. She walked
around to the back, clutching at the key in her pocket.

The parking lot was empty except for a rusty panel truck up on blocks. An open Dumpster
buzzed with wasps. The midday sun raised welts of heat from the cracked macadam.

Kathleen caught sight of herself in the truck window. She was wearing her gardening
pants, traces of dried mud on the knees. She hadn’t showered that morning or even
pulled her hair back off her face. The thongs were far too big for her feet. She looked
like a bag lady.

Hurry up, Joyce, she thought. We’ve got to get out of here. Hurry up.

A few long minutes later, Joyce appeared around the side of the building, her eyes
focused on the two coffee cups she was carrying. She was smiling. Then she saw Kathleen.

“Come on,” Kathleen said softly, taking the cups from her. “We have to go.”

Joyce’s face was a mess of confusion and fear and mortification. “What?”

“Not now.” Kathleen guided her by the elbow out of the parking lot and back toward
her car. She opened the passenger door for Joyce, who slid in meekly.

“I’m going to take you home,” Kathleen said as she pulled into the street.

“No,” Joyce groaned, looking down at her lap.

“What about coming to my house?”

“No.”

“All right. We’ll go to the beach.”

Joyce stared out the window. Kathleen stole glances at her and tried to think of ways
to spare her feelings.

They didn’t speak the rest of the way. At Good Harbor, Joyce followed Kathleen to
a spot near the tidal stream, as far from other people as they could get. A few children
clambered nearby with nets and buckets. The sky was overcast but bright.

Joyce sat with her head bowed while Kathleen told her about Jimmy’s visit.

“Drugs,” said Joyce. “Boy, that explains a lot of things. What an idiot I am. What
a total jerk.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? I’ve been having a weird, kinky affair with a drug dealer, an addict, too,
come to think of it. I’ve been sneaking around in the broad daylight, risking my life,
my family. Nina! For God’s sake, I can’t even look at you. You must think I’m the
scum of the earth. And I probably am.”

“No, Joyce. I’m not judging you. Believe me.”

“Why not? You have no idea how sleazy this whole thing was. I want to say it’s like
I was a different person in that room, but that would be a lie. It was me, all right.
Joyce Miller Tabachnik, moron. Bored suburban housewife. Empty-nest cliché. Oh, God,
this is so awful.”

Kathleen put her hand on Joyce’s.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

“Oh, stop it.” The anger in Kathleen’s voice startled Joyce. “What? Do you think you’re
the only woman who ever made a mistake?”

“I suppose the divorce courts are full of women like me.”

“Are you and Frank getting a divorce?”

“Maybe we should.”

“I didn’t,” said Kathleen evenly.

“You didn’t what?”

“I didn’t get a divorce after my, after I . . .” Kathleen took a breath and continued,
“I had an affair.”

“You?” Joyce looked Kathleen in the face for the first time.

“His name was Stan, and he was artist-in-residence in the Cape Ann schools. It was
two years after Danny was born.” Kathleen paused between phrases, listening to herself
say things she’d never said out loud. “He was from Hingham. He had a wife and kids.
Three kids. He rented a room in Salem while he worked on the North Shore. I spent
seven afternoons with him. I counted. Seven afternoons. Five in February, two in March.

“He was wonderful in the classroom. He had those children making the most beautiful,
heartbreaking little paintings you can imagine. His own art wasn’t as good, I’m afraid.
But, Lord, he could talk like an angel.”

“And you never told Buddy?”

“I never told anyone.”

“You don’t mean to say that I’m the first person, ever?”

“I never had a good reason to tell anyone until now. I don’t see why you should ruin
your marriage and hurt your daughter just because you need to confess. You told me.
You don’t have to tell anyone else.”

“I’m not sure that will work for me.”

“Well, you don’t have to do anything today, do you?” Kathleen said firmly. “Or tomorrow,
for that matter. Wait awhile. Let things settle down.”

“Were you in love with him?”

“With Stan? I’m not sure.” Kathleen looked down at her hands in the sand. “He was
exciting to be with. He made me feel smart. And at that moment in my life, I was sort
of lost. Buddy was having a tough time in the store, but he wasn’t talking to me about
it. I was exhausted, taking care of Hal and Danny, who still wasn’t sleeping through
the night.

“And then my mother-in-law decided that I should get out of the house a few afternoons
a week, so she watched the boys. I’m sure Mae thought of it as a gift, but I was completely
at loose ends. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I volunteered at the school library
just to have somewhere to go, and that’s where I met Stan.

“He turned my head. What an old-fashioned thing to say, but that was it. I was flattered.
I was . . . infatuated.

“He was totally different from Buddy,” Kathleen said, glancing up to meet Joyce’s
unswerving, sympathetic gaze. “Buddy was never much of a reader, and also” — Kathleen
cleared her throat — “well, Buddy was the only man I’d ever been with before.

“But I think I always knew that I wouldn’t leave Buddy. From the very start, even.
I didn’t trust Stan the way I trusted Buddy. Stan was cheating on his wife, wasn’t
he?”

Joyce shook her head sadly.

“I ended it. I couldn’t stand the sneaking around.”

“And you never told Buddy?”

“I almost told him a thousand times. For weeks afterward, months, but it didn’t make
sense to me. Why hurt him like that? I made an awful mistake, but then I put a stop
to it. It was over.”

“You never told your sister?”

“Heavens, no” Kathleen shook her head. “Her good opinion meant too much to me. And
besides, how could she possibly understand? She was a nun.”

“How does it feel now? To have told someone.”

“Not as bad as I thought it would. Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You’re not going
to tell Frank right away, are you?”

“I don’t have to do anything today. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Or tomorrow.”

“But I can tell you, right?” Joyce said. “I met him at Halibut Point, at dawn.”

“Oh, dear. Just like I told you.”

“Now that I think about it, he was probably there signaling to a drug boat or something.

“We never actually, uh, did it, you know, consummated. He wouldn’t or maybe he couldn’t.
Maybe because of the drugs. I mean, he never took off his pants. It drove me crazy,
but now I’m grateful. I guess I was lucky.”

Joyce pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, making herself as small
as she could. “I was going to end it today. I know that sounds like a lie. I should
have done it over the phone, but when he called, I just wanted to say good-bye in
person. Or maybe I was kidding myself. I would have probably jumped in bed with him
again. I don’t know.

“I’ve been such a rotten wife. Frank came up, finally. It’s been weeks and weeks since
he was here, you know? He came to tell me that he’s totally miserable at work. He’s
hated his job for years, and I hardly noticed. Why didn’t he tell me? And then he
apologizes for losing his job.” Joyce groaned. “Meanwhile, I’m cheating on him. Poor
Frank.”