Meg at Sixteen (18 page)

“So you went looking for someone else to pay,” Clark said. “That's where this story is leading.”

“First I wasted most of the money,” Nick said. “I never had money before, and I wasn't comfortable with his money anyway. So I gambled and I drank and I spent a lot of it on hookers. But then one night one of them said to me that I was so good-looking, she didn't understand why I felt I had to spend money to get a woman to sleep with me. I thought about that a lot after I left, how handsome I was. I went back to my hotel room, and I thought about my assets. I had my looks and roughly a thousand dollars, and brains enough to get into Princeton. It was November, and I knew that the way I'd been spending the money, it would be gone soon, and then I'd have nothing, not even my dreams. So I decided to use my looks and my money and my brains to finance my way through school. I took half the money and bought myself good clothes. Nothing flashy. I went shopping with a hooker I knew. She had excellent taste.”

“I'll bet,” Clark said.

“Then I decided I'd find a rich girl somewhere and get her to fall in love with me,” Nick continued. “I didn't know how it would go from there, but I was sure I'd work something out. I hated everything then, Daisy, the world, myself, everything. I didn't care if I hurt people.”

“That's because you were hurt,” Meg said.

“You're not feeling sorry for him,” Clark said.

“She probably is,” Nick declared. “I can make people do that, pity me. It's one of my talents. I used it then. I made up a story about who I was. It wasn't the truth, and it wasn't the story I tell people at Princeton. I said I was Nick George, and my mother had come from a good family in Seattle, only she'd been disinherited when she'd married my father. Religious differences. They'd been poor but oh so happy until one day my father was killed by a hit-and-run driver. I was seven. I saw him die. I liked that part and told it really well. Elizabeth cried when I described it to her. My mother worked hard to support the two of us. She saw to it that I had all the best things, a good education, riding lessons. It was important to her that I assume my rightful place in society. So when I was sixteen, she took me back to Seattle for her parents to meet. Only they wouldn't even see us. Doors slammed in our faces, things like that. It broke my mother's heart. She died six months later, and I was left on my own. One of my teachers took me in, but I knew I couldn't be dependent on his charity forever, and besides, I had ambitions. I wanted to show my mother's family that they'd made a mistake rejecting me. I'd get this quiver in my voice when I reached that part, so she could see that underneath my defiance was pain. Girls like that, Clark. You're naturally pathetic yourself, so you should do well.”

“Why did you lie to her, Nicky?” Meg asked. “She would have loved you if you told her the truth.”

“Oh Daisy,” Nick said. “Just because you love me doesn't mean anybody else would. Besides, I didn't want her to love who I really was. All I wanted was her family's money.”

“How did you meet her?” Clark asked.

“I crashed a New Year's party at her country club,” Nick said. “It didn't matter who she was. I picked Elizabeth because she wasn't pretty and nobody danced with her twice. Rich girls always seem to have someone to dance with, but the ones who aren't pretty don't get repeats. We danced five times. I told her lies, and made a date with her for the following day, and when I saw her next I told her that everything I'd said the night before had been lies, that the truth was Seattle and disinheritance and hit-and-run driver and rejection. I said I could tell she came from a good family and I'd understand if she never wanted to see me again, that I wasn't worthy of her. She said I was the bravest boy she'd ever met.”

“Did you tell her you loved her?” Clark asked.

“Not then,” Nick said. “Not for another two weeks. She was a senior in high school and she lived with her parents. At first we dated openly, but when her parents started to ask questions, I convinced Elizabeth we had to see each other on the sly. She liked that, and I did too. I didn't have much money left, and she expected to be taken out to expensive restaurants. Our secret dates cost a lot less money.”

“Nicky, don't,” Meg said.

“I have to,” he said. “You have to know. I should have told you right away, but I thought I could get away with it. Clark's right. I have been lying to you. You're not Elizabeth. You deserve the truth.”

Meg nodded. The sun came out from behind a cloud and forced her to squint as she looked up at Nick.

“The rest went pretty easily,” Nick said. “I convinced Elizabeth that her parents would force us to part unless we got married. She was all in favor. We eloped. It was easy enough to keep from consummating the union. She was too scared, and I sure didn't want to. So I took her home. Her father asked me what my price was for a no-publicity annulment. I said twenty thousand. We went to the bank, and he gave me a cashier's check. Then we went to his lawyer, and I signed lots of papers Nick George. He saw me to the train station. The whole thing took five weeks. I reapplied to Princeton, bought a new wardrobe, and changed my name legally to Nicholas George Sebastian. I knew I wasn't entitled to the name Prescott, but after what I'd done to the Stantons, I felt I could claim at least part of my father's name. In September, I started Princeton. In July, I met you. Did I leave any pertinent details out, Clark? I think I covered pretty much everything.”

“I didn't want you to know, Meg,” Clark said. “I found out this week, after you told me Nick's real name. It rang a bell. Then I remembered a friend of mine had told me a story about someone he knew, whose kid sister had fallen in love with some drifter and her parents had paid a lot of money to break them up. Nick George, he'd said the guy was named. We'd been talking about people whose last names could also be first names, like me, Clark Bradford. Nick George. Nicholas George Keefer. I'd never trusted him, so I called my friend, and he called his, and we exchanged descriptions, and I knew it had to be the same guy. I wanted to protect you, Meg. I wanted to keep you from knowing. But I couldn't think of any other way of stopping you. I'm sorry. I know you must hate me. I only hope you hate him too.”

Meg covered her eyes with her hands. The sun was giving her a headache. She didn't know what she felt.

“You'd better leave,” Clark said to Nick. “Forget about Eastgate and Meg, and Princeton, for that matter. Take your scams someplace else. Create a pathetic new identity for yourself.”

“I don't deny I've created myself,” Nick replied. “I never saw that I had any other choice. Not until now, not until Daisy.”

“Leave her alone,” Clark said. “Come on, Meg, I'll take you home.”

“No!” Meg said. “No. Stop it.”

“I'll do whatever you want, Daisy,” Nick said. “Just tell me what to do.”

Meg realized then what a difficult thing it was to be a liar, and what an enormous thing it was to love one. Liars lied and were lied about, and knowing all those lies, found it hard to trust in others. To love a liar meant you had to believe in him, in spite of his lies and the lies told about him, in spite of his inability to trust. She knew that simply by loving Nick, she had become a liar, that just as she had taught him right from wrong, he had taught her the value of untruth.

“Let's do it,” she said in a hard, flat voice. “Let's elope anyway, and Clark will tell Aunt Grace where we are, and she'll pay you a lot of money, the way the Stantons did.”

“Meg!” Clark said.

Meg shook her head. “It's the best plan,” she said. “That way Nicky will have money, more than enough, and he'll still have me. We'll get married anyway, on my eighteenth birthday. He can use the money Aunt Grace gives him to rescue me. She won't know it, but it'll be her wedding present to us. All right, Nicky? We can take the next bus out of town. The less head start we have on Clark, the easier it'll be for Aunt Grace to find us.”

“No,” Nick said.

“Why not?” Meg demanded. “You said you'd do whatever I wanted. Well, this is what I want.”

“I thought I could,” Nick said. “I wish I could. George Keefer could. He wouldn't care what became of you. I thought for you I could do anything, but I can't. I can't become George Keefer again. Not even for you, Daisy. I'm sorry.”

“Come on, Meg,” Clark said. “I'll take you home. Grace doesn't have to know any of this ever happened.”

Nick shook his head. “I'll take her back to Grace's,” he said. “Thank you, Clark, but you've done enough. From now on, Daisy and I will handle things on our own.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

The cab dropped them off in front of Aunt Grace's cottage. Meg hated the idea of going back into the house, and walked away from it instead. Nick followed her, suitcase in hand, until she finally stopped at the gazebo.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I have to know how you feel.”

“I feel cheated,” Meg replied. She sat down on the wrought-iron love seat. Nick put his suitcase down and sat beside her. “I don't see why we didn't elope. If we get caught, fine, you just end up with money. If we don't get caught, even better. Why did you bring me back here?”

“Because I'm selfish,” Nick replied.

Meg looked into Nick's eyes. “I know you love me,” she said. “I know this was never a scam for you.”

Nick smiled. “Never,” he agreed. “Things would have been a lot easier if it had been.”

“Then what's the problem?” Meg asked. “We'll never have another chance like today. Clark will see to that.”

“Daisy, listen to me,” Nick said. “Listen to me and forgive me. Everything Clark said today was true. All the things he didn't say were true also. He sees me as a corrupter, someone destroying all that's moral and true about you. Did you look at him when you said we should elope for the money? He was stricken.”

“What do I care how Clark feels,” Meg said. “Or Aunt Grace or Uncle Marcus or the entire population of Eastgate and Boston combined. All I care about is you. What you're willing to do, I'm willing to do.”

Nick shook his head. “I'm not willing anymore,” he said. “Blame it on Princeton, blame it on yourself. When I went after Elizabeth, I was angry and I was scared. At Princeton, I lost some of that anger and a little of the fear. Since I've met you, the fear and the anger are gone completely. I'm not sure yet what's replacing them; I don't have words in my vocabulary for what I feel. But I don't want to hurt people just to get what I need. I don't feel justified in doing it anymore.”

“Did you hurt Elizabeth?” Meg asked. She didn't even like mentioning the other girl's name.

“I must have,” Nick said. “I didn't stick around long enough to find out, though. I've hurt you just by having done that to Elizabeth. I didn't want you to know. I'm ashamed of a lot of things in my life, but Elizabeth is different. Elizabeth I feel guilty about.”

“Not guilty enough to return the money,” Meg said.

“Do you want me to?” Nick asked. “I will if you want me to.”

“No,” Meg said. “I want you to have Princeton. I'm starting to understand how important it is for you.”

“For a long time, it was the only thing I had,” Nick said. “Now I have you.”

“But Princeton is still important,” Meg said.

Nick nodded. Meg smiled at him.

“We'll have sons,” she said. “Thousands of them. And we'll send them all to Princeton.”

“One girl,” he said. “Who'll look exactly like you.”

“If you insist,” Meg said. “Nicky, I have to have that. I have to know we're going to be together.”

“We will be,” Nick said. “But honestly. Through the front door. No sneaking around.”

“On my eighteenth birthday,” Meg said, and then she took a deep breath, and made a sacrifice for love. “No, on my nineteenth. We'll wait the extra year so you can get your degree first.”

“I love you,” Nick said, and he kissed her to prove it.

Meg smiled at him. “There's something I want to do,” she said. “We talked about it. Burning your name, your past.”

“Are you sure?” Nick asked.

“Positive,” she replied. “Stay there. I'm going to burn all sorts of awful things.” She gave him a kiss, then ran to the cottage, and went up to her bedroom. She wanted only the best symbols of their previous unhappiness to destroy. The copy of the detective's report Aunt Grace had given her was an obvious pick. But there had to be something else, something she could contribute. And then she found the pink ruffled party dress.

Meg whooped with pleasure, grabbed the dress from its hanger, then went to the kitchen and took some matches. The house was empty, and she wasn't scared. It was a wonderful feeling to be in that house and not feel dread.

Nick was waiting at the gazebo for her. “The dress?” he asked. “I met you in that dress.”

Meg ripped off a ruffle for him. “Sleep with it under your pillow,” she said. “The rest is ashes.”

Nick laughed, but there was no echo of anger. “What's that?” he asked.

“The detective's report,” Meg said. “How's that for cheap and easy symbolism.”

“Perfect,” he said. “Is it safe to build a fire here?”

“Probably not,” Meg said. They stood outside the gazebo as Meg ripped up the report, then piled the dress on top of it. “I consign our past to ashes!” she cried, and struck a match. The flame caught, and she started burning the paper. Soon the dress had caught fire as well. Meg watched the smoke billow up, and felt light and happy, the way she had as a little girl. She could see the joy on Nick's face as well. They had no more past, just future, blissful, perfect future.