Promise Me A Rainbow (13 page)

Catherine caught the bus
on Second Street.

You’ve been living alone too long,
she thought the third time she nearly said “Why did you say you’d go?” aloud on the way home. She liked Fritz, was concerned about her, but she had no business going to some family gathering where she didn’t really know anyone. She did
not
want to do it. She didn’t want to do it so much, she rode a block past her stop, but on the walk to the Mayfair she got herself in hand. Her panic had nothing to do with the cookout per se. It had to do with Joe D’Amaro. Her recovery from her recent emotional trauma was now no doubt complete. He was on her mind; she couldn’t keep from wondering about him and his children and the dead wife of whom he didn’t speak. And it scared her to death.

She spent the rest of the weekend mentally making excuses not to go, only to have them all wiped out by the reassertion of the poignant image of Fritz D’Amaro’s little face.

“I’ve done something stupid,” she told Pat Bauer before her math class on Monday. She hadn’t meant to say anything because it was only a cookout and because she thought Pat wasn’t feeling well.

“Oh, good,” Pat said. “I was really getting tired of being the only one.”

“No, I mean it.”

“Well, let’s see, Catherine. How stupid can it be? Don’t tell me you’re going to Jonathan’s wedding.”

“No,” she said morosely. “I accepted another invitation.”

Pat looked at her sharply. “And a happy little soul it’s made you, too. So what is it?”

“I can’t get out of it, Pat.”

“Yes, I can see that. What are we talking about?”

“Joe D’Amaro.”

“Who the hell is Joe D’Amaro?”

“You know who Joe D’Amaro is. I bought his gnomes.”

“His
gnomes
? What gnomes?”

“I told you.”

“No, ma’am, you did not.”

“He’s the building contractor. He needed the money, so he sold a gnome sculpture. He didn’t know his little girl was so crazy about it until she ran away to see them the other night.”

“To your place.”

“Right. And then he came here.”

“Oh, yes. The semi-hunk who stirred up the office staff.”

“Right. He’s asked me to go to a family cookout.”

“Why, the filthy beast.”

“Pat, I’m being serious here!”

“I know that, Catherine. That’s what makes it so funny. So what’s wrong with going to a cookout? He either wants you there because of his little girl or he doesn’t.”

Catherine suddenly realized that that was precisely the problem.

“Oh, I get it,” Pat said. “You’re not sure which you’d rather it be, are you?”

“No, I’m not. And this is all
your
fault.”

“
My
fault!”

“Yes, yours. I didn’t even notice he was nice-looking until you said something.”

“Well, forgive me. These things happen when you’re heterosexual. Look on the bright side, Catherine. He’s got a kid.”

“Three kids,” Catherine said, correcting her.

“Even better. If he’s interested, he’s not going to care if you can have a baby or not. He’s got all his. All you have to worry about is whether he likes
you
.”

“No, I don’t have to worry about that. I hardly know the man. And from what I do know, he’s got more emotional baggage than I want to deal with. Besides that, he flatly told me I butt into things that are none of my business.”

“You do.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Well, you
do
. And what’s worse, the things that
are
your business are hopeless. Look at this bunch of girls. You think you’re going to make them wake up one day and care about themselves and their babies? They don’t
care
, Catherine.”

“Some of them care.”

“Oh, yeah? Who? Maria? Doesn’t it get to you, Catherine? That somebody like her, who’s never wanted a baby and never will, can reproduce at the drop of a zipper and a decent person like you can’t?”

She looked at Pat a long moment before she answered. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It gets to me.” She stood to leave.

“Catherine . . . wait. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I say things like that. I can’t even blame it on the cancer—I was a bitch before I got it. Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, Pat. You hurt my feelings.”

“I know I did—
now
. I just can’t tell I’m going to ahead of time. I never was good at that with people. Whatever I think pops out of my mouth the minute it hits my brain. It’s no wonder Don left me.”

Catherine didn’t answer.

“Aw, come on, Catherine. I’m
sorry
. Look, if you don’t like me, who will? You like
everybody
. If you don’t like me, I’ll really know I’m a piece of—oh, hello, girls. Welcome to the Wonderful World of Mathematics.”

Catherine took her usual seat at the back of the class. The day was cool and overcast; she had no difficulty staying awake. Her mind was too full of concerns about Joe D’Amaro and Fritz.

I like that little kid
, she thought. But she didn’t necessarily like her father. She thought he was exactly what Pat said—an attractive man. Not handsome. Not
not
handsome. Masculine—but not too masculine. She had the feeling that he liked women—even when they got on his nerves. And that he would like making love with a woman better than he’d like having sex with her.

She had no idea why she thought
that
. She’d caught him casting a covert glance at her breasts, which was hardly an indication of his sexual preferences. She thought that he probably had a “relationship” with someone. All that intensity of his, that determination to make things happen or to change things around to suit him, would appeal to a lot of women.

But it didn’t appeal to her. Jonathan had been like that, refusing to accept the finality of a situation. Joe D’Amaro was simply too intense for her liking. It made her uncomfortable, wary, yet at the same time she was drawn to him. He was so sad. She always came back to the raw, personal sorrow she’d glimpsed when she looked into his eyes. Getting involved with the D’Amaro family was going to play absolute havoc with her newly won tranquility. What peace of mind she’d managed to resurrect out of the ashes of her divorce was already affected, and she hadn’t even seen the man socially.

I call him Joe so he won’t die
.

Clearly his child thought he was worth the trouble.

She sighed—too loudly, because it drew a few giggles from the girls and a look from Pat. She struggled to keep her mind on matters at hand, concentrating hard on the numbers Pat was writing on the blackboard. One of the women from the office came and stood in the doorway, catching Catherine’s eye with a
T
she made with her forefingers and the fist she put to her ear.

“It’s a man,” she said as soon as Catherine came out into the hall. “He’s called a couple of times, trying to catch you between classes. I told him if he’d just hold on, I’d come and get you. I was going to take a phone number so you could call him back, but he said he’d be working.”

“Thanks,” Catherine said.

Their footsteps echoed down the dim hallway, and she braced herself to talk to Joe D’Amaro, wondering why he’d call at school.

The phone was off the hook, and she turned her back to the office staff as she picked up the receiver.

“Katie?” the voice said, and her heart fell. She was flooded with disappointment, a fact she didn’t fail to note with some dismay.

“What is it, Jonathan?”

“Hi! I . . . just wanted to remind you about the wedding Saturday. Will you be there?”

“No. I’ve made other plans.”

“Can’t you get out of it?”

“I don’t want to get out of it.” That wasn’t precisely the truth, but Jonathan didn’t have to know that.

“Oh. Well. Can . . . you wish me well, at least?”

Catherine closed her eyes and took a small breath. “I do,” she said, opening her eyes. That wasn’t precisely the truth, either. Sasha was standing tentatively outside the office door. Catherine motioned for her to come in and sit down in the nearest chair.

“Jonathan,” she said into the receiver. “I know you’ll have a good life. Thanks for calling.” She left him no time to comment, immediately hanging up the phone.

“Sasha, what is it?”

“I don’t feel good, Ms. Holben. You said to tell you if we don’t feel good.” She hung her head, and her voice was so low that Catherine barely heard her.

She walked closer.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like it in here, Ms. Holben. Those women are always looking at my belly,” she added in a whisper.

Catherine glanced behind her. They were indeed looking at the evidence of Sasha’s pregnant state.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

They walked into the hallway.

“Tell me how you feel,” Catherine said when they were away from the doorway.

“Tired, Ms. Holben. Nothing hurts, but I just feel tired. I’m trying to listen to Mrs. Bauer, but I can’t.”

Catherine frowned. “You’re not catching a cold, are you? Runny nose, sore throat—anything like that?” She reached out to touch Sasha’s forehead. She didn’t feel feverish.

“No,” Sasha said.

“And nothing hurts?”

She shook her head.

“You haven’t seen any blood in your panties when you go to the bathroom, have you?”

“No, I ain’t got nothing that’s on the list they give me at the clinic.” She gave a heavy sigh.

“And you’ve been eating the things you’re supposed to eat—and taking your vitamins and iron?”

“Yes. Grandmamma’d skin me if I go and forget my pills.”

Catherine smiled. She’d met Sasha’s grandmamma just before school started. She was a stern little woman, who in the heat of summer wore a gray felt pillbox hat. Rumor had it that Grandmamma was the only real “root worker” left in Wilmington. She did a steady business in the housing projects, where, for the right price, she would make a charm out of plant roots for whatever one needed—love, health, revenge. Unfortunately, she had had no charm that would have kept her thirteen-year-old granddaughter from becoming pregnant.

“Are you going home on the bus today?”

“No, I’m going to ride home in Beatrice’s car. She said I ain’t got no business on a bus if I don’t feel good.”

“Well, let’s see what your blood pressure is,” Catherine said as they walked back toward the classroom. “When’s your next appointment at the clinic?”

“Wednesday.”

Pat was just dismissing the class for the day.

“Ms. Holben, you falling for that sucker stuff?” Maria said as she came out into the hall. “She ain’t doing nothing but trying to get attention. Sasha, you don’t fool nobody.”

“Good-bye, Maria,” Catherine said firmly. “Go sit down while I get my blood-pressure stuff,” she said to Sasha. She got the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out of her briefcase. Pat still sat at her desk.

She checked Sasha’s blood pressure quickly. It was higher than usual but not significantly so.