Secrecy (6 page)

“Make a sandwich for yourself. There’s bread and there’s sliced turkey. Coleslaw, potato salad. My mother left enough for an army.”

He had a rough way of talking, sort of slapdash and careless, that was interesting. And she thought how ridiculous it was to have no brother, to go to a school for girls, and not even know how to talk to a boy or what to expect from him.

He wasn’t a boy, though. He stood ten inches above her. He was a senior, old enough to vote or be in the army. No doubt, barging in like this, she was being a nuisance to him.

She made a sandwich and sat down at the kitchen table, wondering how to begin a conversation, since he had not begun one.

“Have a beer,” he said, shoving a glass and another bottle across the table.

“I’ve never had beer,” she said.

“Well, there’s always a first time. Here, I’ll open it for you.”

She sipped and shuddered. It was awful, sour enough to make you want to spit it out.

Ted was amused. “Takes getting used to, like olives.”

“Oh, I like olives.”

“Good, I’ll get some. And a Coke.”

When he had set these out, there came a silence, made deeper by the small clicks and clinks of plates and forks. The dogs scratched and thumped. Ted’s chair squeaked when he tipped back on it. Elena would say he was hard on furniture, Charlotte thought. But he was so big. He was powerful and manly. That was the word:
manly
, and much handsomer than some of the men on television or in the movies. He made her self-conscious. It was stupid for two people to sit there chewing and not saying anything.

“You’re a cute kid,” Ted said abruptly. “In another couple of years you’ll be really cute. You’ve got a nice shape.”

When your breasts are bigger
, he meant. They were already big enough for him to notice. And she felt confusion, not knowing how to respond to the compliment.

“So, Charlotte, tell me about yourself.”

What was there to say? There was nothing.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she said.

Elena would say:
You have to sparkle, be alive, be interesting. You can’t just sit there!

“There must be. Anyway, I already know a few things about you. C.D. talks about you a lot.”

“C.D.?”

“Your uncle.”

“Why do you call him C.D.?”

“Clifford Dawes, of course. I don’t like the sound of
uncle
because he isn’t my uncle. And he’s surely not my father. So you see …” Ted shrugged.

She thought he looked somber. A thrill of sympathy, first hot, then cold, seemed to shoot through her veins. His father was dead, while her mother was—

“C.D. says you’re very smart and you’re an expert swimmer. True?”

“I don’t know that I’m so smart, but I am a pretty good swimmer.”

“That’s great. Maybe you and I can go out to the lake this summer. I’ll bet you look great in a swimsuit.”

She was astonished. If she were to tell anyone at school that Ted Marple—Ted Marple!—had invited her to go to the lake, they might not even believe it. She would certainly tell them, though, and no later than next Monday. Tell them all, too, not only her friends, but even snobs like Addie Thompson, who thought she was God’s gift to boys. With this thought enlivening her the words began to flow.

“I know things about you too. I mean, everybody who reads the paper knows about you, about the Thanksgiving game with Franklin High and stuff like that. But I know other things. Your mother says you’re the best math student in the senior class.”

“Oh, mothers. They boast too much.”

But she saw that he was pleased, so she continued. “Between that and football, you’ll get into any college you want, I guess.”

“You’re pretty young to know about colleges.”

“No, I think about it all the time. I want to be an architect.”

“You can’t know that already.”

“Of course I can.”

“Ah, you’re a baby.”

For an instant Charlotte felt a rise of anger; then she saw that he was teasing, and they both laughed.

“A pretty baby. Listen, pretty baby, I’d like to stay here talking to you, but I have to go now. Meeting some friends downtown.” Ted looked at his watch. “Geez, I’m late. I’m supposed to give the dogs a walk, but too bad, I can’t.”

The dogs, alert to the word
walk
, had gotten up and gone to the door. “Poor fellows,” Charlotte said.

“Tell you what, Charlotte. How about you and me taking them for a hike tomorrow afternoon? I’ll pick you up at your house. Is it a date?”

“A date,” she said happily.

Ted picked up her ponytail as if he were weighing it. “I’ll bet you look beautiful with all that hair spread out loose. Thick and blond. Not bad. Not bad at all.”

She was flushed and thrilled. “It’s dirty blond,” she said.

“Don’t say that. You need to learn how to accept a compliment. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

*   *   *

Dad asked, “Where were you? Whose car was that?”

“Ted’s.”

“How did that happen?”

“I went to see Claudia, but she wasn’t home, so I had lunch with him.”

“Just you and Ted? You didn’t know they were away for the weekend?”

“Of course I didn’t know. But what’s the difference?”

Dad frowned. “I don’t like the idea of your being alone in the house with him—or any boy.”

“Daddy! That’s the silliest thing I ever heard. You sound like Queen Victoria. Do you think that all a boy wants is sex? That you can’t be friends with a boy, for heaven’s sake?”

“People can be too old for you,” Dad grumbled.

“Ted’s not too old. And he’s really nice. You don’t even know him.”

“Well, all the same, I don’t want …” He raised the newspaper so that his face was hidden.

He doesn’t know what else to say, Charlotte thought. What he’s already said is stupid, and he knows it is.

Around the paper’s edge Bill peered at Charlotte, thinking, Aging comes on so slowly that you don’t notice it. Two years ago she had her first bra and braces on her teeth. She and her friends went charging through the house like wild ponies. Now, with a book on her lap, her pink skirt smooth, and charm bracelet dangling, she has a woman’s posture.

Yet she still had the face of a child, a face that
made his heart ache. They were pulling her apart, he and Elena! At the most critical period of adolescence, when she most needed them, they were doing this to her. He worried so.… Elena didn’t see their child as he saw her. Elena, to begin with, didn’t feel with the intensity that was almost palpable in Charlotte. Elena, in that fragile-seeming body, had the toughness of one of those thin weeds that take all a man’s strength to uproot. Hardly a flattering comparison!

Charlotte, not reading now, dreamed with eyes unfocused and a tiny smile. Most probably she was dreaming of the ultimate romance, the wine-and-roses thing. She was in a hurry to grow up. And he wanted to warn her:
Men don’t think like that, my dear. In spite of all the unisex talk these days, the boys are different, my dear, they really are. Believe me. Take care of yourself
.

The flowery spring had finally come north of Boston to stay. Cliff’s house was on the fringe of town, almost in sight of farms and open country. With the two dogs at heel Charlotte and Ted walked out in the direction of the lake.

Ted strode along with his hands in his pockets. Every now and then he picked up a small stone and hurled it ahead. When he leaned back to throw with his right arm, his left foot came up. She must be careful not to be caught watching him. It would be terribly embarrassing. He would think she was falling in love with him or something.

Still, maybe she was. The thought was astonishing. Was it possible that such a thing could happen
so fast? You read about it in junky novels—but they were just junky novels. Yet what about the classics?
Romeo and Juliet?
And surely there were dozens of others, although she couldn’t remember offhand which ones they were.

A car approached and, passing, slowed enough for a girl to wave from the rear window. Addie! It was exactly what Charlotte had dreamed about and never expected to see. Addie would spread it all over the school:
Charlotte Dawes was out walking with Ted Marple on Sunday
.

For a long time she had not been exhilarated or energetic, but now she broke into a run, so fast that the breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders.

“Hey! Where you all going?” cried Ted, catching up.

“I often run with the dogs. I almost feel as if Rob and Roy belong to me. I’ve grown up with them.”

“Why don’t you have a dog of your own?”

“I always wanted one.”

“So why didn’t you have one? Don’t your folks always give you everything you want?”

“Well, mostly yes, but my mother doesn’t like dogs in the house. They shed and throw up and make a mess, she thinks.”

“She sounds like a crank. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Ted’s rueful smile asked her to forgive him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She reassured him, saying quickly, “That’s all right. It’s partly true. Sometimes she is a nag.”

“Are they really getting a divorce?”

“I guess. Although it does seem as if they can’t even agree on that much.”

“It’s a bad break for you.”

They broke stride to lean against a stone wall. Beyond it a herd of Holsteins went moving with heads down through a long pasture.

“They’re looking for fresh grass, but it’s too early,” Charlotte said. “They’ll still be eating hay for another couple of weeks.”

Ted shrugged. “I never gave it any thought. Don’t know much about animals.”

“My dad knows a lot. He does stuff for wildlife and the environment. Uncle Cliff does too.”

“Yeah, C.D.’s been writing something for the Wildlife Commission. Funny business for a couple of textile manufacturers.”

“Oh, no,” Charlotte said earnestly. “Not really. They got the business from their grandfather, and so they kept it. But I think they would really have liked to be explorers, or maybe even farmers. Oh, look, on the other side of the road, there’s a mare with a new colt. Isn’t he darling? Let’s go see.”

Ted was looking at her. He was almost staring. She knew he was admiring her hair, which she had kept loose today, letting it ripple into two deep curves around her face. She had put on some of Elena’s perfume. And again that little thrill went through her.

“I suppose,” he said, “your father’s home with the Sunday paper today.”

“No, he left early to meet some people who may lease the plant. They can’t seem to sell it.”

He was still looking at her, or rather, looking down to her, with such an odd expression, partly smiling and partly analyzing, as though he found her fascinating. Could that be possible?

And confused now, she rattled on, “Dad doesn’t even like these people all that much. It’s a recycling company that’ll use the place to store rubbish. After buildings are torn down, for instance, the rubbish has to be put somewhere, so that’s what their business is. And it’s not what Dad wanted at all. But he needs the money. It’s very hard on him. I’m sorry for him with all his worries.”

Her voice trailed, for now Ted had looked away. He picked up a stone and sent it skimming down the road. Suddenly she was boring him, and no wonder. Laughter is what people want, Elena said. Be entertaining.

“Life’s a bummer for some people,” Ted said.

“But not for you,” she said brightly. “I think you must have a great life.”

“Nah, not always. My father was shot, sitting right in his office, he was shot. The case came to trial and the jury acquitted the killer. Can you imagine that? I was four. My mom was advised to get out of town. I still don’t understand why, but anyway, we came here. She had some old relative here, so she knew somebody at least. Then he died, and she opened the bookstore. It wasn’t easy, I can tell you.”

“But now everything’s fine for you,” Charlotte said eagerly, wanting him to be comforted.

“Yeah. What are we doing here, gabbing about all this stuff? You’re too serious for your own good.
How about we lighten up? How about going back to my place. I’ll have a beer, and you’ll have a Coke. We’ve walked far enough.”

“Sure,” said Charlotte. “I’d like that.”

When you entered the house, you immediately felt vacancy. There was no Claudia in the kitchen and no sound of the radio that she kept tuned to music. There were dirty dishes in the sink and newspapers scattered on the floor.

Ted grinned. “Place is a mess, isn’t it? I’ll have to clean it up tonight before they get home. Hey, here’s a chocolate cake in the cake box. Want some?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“We’ll have it in there in style,” Ted said, pointing toward the living room.

“Where’s your beer?”

“Beer and chocolate cake don’t mix, little girl. I’m having wine. Why don’t you try some? Coke and chocolate cake don’t mix that well either.”

“I never had wine. Aren’t you supposed to be eighteen? That’s what Dad said.”

“Excuse me, but your dad sounds like a cop or a lawyer. That talk’s all garbage. The French give wine to their kids, for God’s sake.”

In the living room Ted put two plates, two goblets, and a bottle of red wine on the coffee table. They sat down together on the sofa. Ted poured the wine.

“Taste it. It’ll make you feel good.”

It was faintly tart and faintly sweet, silky and cool. It seemed to go with the room, which was as green and white as the spring outdoors. Leaning back on the cushions, Charlotte had a sense of luxury, as in
those advertisements where beautiful women recline in rooms like this one, filled with paintings, flowers, and books. Her charm bracelet tinkled, and she smiled.

“You see, it does make you feel good,” Ted said. “Have some more.”

“I already had half a glassful.”

“So? What’s a half? You can certainly drink another half. That’s nothing at all.” He laughed. “Have another piece of cake to wash it down.”

“Your mother’s a great cook. I love coming here for lunch. I mean—that sounds dumb, doesn’t it? I love coming here because she’s so sweet. I love the way she talks to me. Like equals, you know. Once—we were studying opera in school—she put on a record of
Tosca
and explained it so I almost didn’t have to do the reading. Do you know the story of
Tosca
? It starts in the cathedral when this man is escaping.…”