Sybil at Sixteen (12 page)

“I hope so,” Sybil said. “I don't know what it is I want, though.”

“You don't have to know,” Nick said. “Thea didn't find out until recently that she wants to be a doctor. If you'd asked her at sixteen, she wouldn't have had an answer.”

“Evvie knew she wanted Sam,” Sybil said. “And Claire's always known.”

“Claire may change her mind, too, over the years,” Nick said. “She's more flexible, more giving, than she gives herself credit for.”

“I shouldn't have called you from Evvie's,” Sybil said. “I'm sorry.”

“I shouldn't have asked you to,” Nick replied. “And I'm sorrier. But I did and you did and now we have to live with the consequences.”

“Should I tell Evvie?” Sybil asked.

“No,” Nick said. “No reason to. It would only make her angrier at all of us. Keep it to yourself unless there's some pressing reason to tell her. We're a family of secret-keepers; one more won't kill us.”

“You could have told me you were illegitimate,” Sybil said. “You could have told me all those things Evvie said yesterday. It wouldn't have mattered.”

Nick looked at Sybil. “I know,” he said. “And I probably should have been honest with all of you. But I'm like Sam that way. I'd gotten into the habit of lying. It was easier for me. As a little boy, I used to lie. I knew just who I was, where I came from. I was kicked around a lot when I was very young, went from aunt to cousin to grandparent, and they all let me know why I wasn't living with a mommy and a daddy the way other kids did. But I'd tell myself stories about how my daddy was a brave war hero. And even though I saw my mother sometimes, and I knew she was just a kid who wanted a lot better than she had ended up with, I'd make up stories about her, too. I guess I felt those kinds of stories were necessary for children. The funny thing is, Daisy made up stories, too, about her parents. They loved each other, and they loved her, but her father was a wastrel, and her mother a belle, and the best you could say about them was they died young, beautiful, and together. Daisy was only eleven when they died, and she got kicked around for a year or two herself, before Grace finally accepted her responsibility and took her in. By then Daisy had created perfect parents for herself. By then I had a dream father who never knew I'd been born, who would have given up everything to raise me as his son if only he'd had the chance. I think what Grace hated most about me was how much alike Daisy and I were.”

“You really did fall in love as soon as you saw her,” Sybil said. “But you couldn't possibly have known that about each other right away.”

“I was always honest with Daisy,” Nick said. “There were things I didn't want to tell her, and things I held off telling her until it was almost too late, but by the end of that summer, there was nothing about me that she didn't know. Nothing. That was how we were able to make it through all of Grace's obstacles. And I've been honest with Daisy since. Evvie doesn't quite realize that, any more than Grace could, that Daisy knows me, knows everything I do, and she loves me so much, and understands me so deeply, that it's all right. It is truly all right.”

“Claire knows about you,” Sybil said. “And Evvie.”

“They know bits and pieces,” Nick replied. “They think they know a lot more than they actually do. Grace told Evvie that summer in Eastgate. I assumed she would, although Daisy didn't think so, but I was ready for Evvie to find out, so that was all right. She didn't confront me though, which I didn't understand at the time, but now it makes sense. It must have been very hard for Evvie to discover her parents had deceived her at the same time that she fell in love with a liar.”

“And Claire found out that Christmas,” Sybil said.

“She put two and two together,” Nick said. “Grace confirmed her suspicions, and Claire took it from there. I look like Sebastian Prescott, and Claire looks like me. It must have been a nightmare for him to find out that Scotty had eloped with my daughter. His legitimate grandson and his illegitimate granddaughter. Claire wanted twenty-four thousand for your rehab costs. He offered fifty, and she grabbed it.”

“Evvie says you shouldn't have let her,” Sybil declared.

“She's right,” Nick said. “Are you all right? How're your legs holding up?”

“I'll live,” Sybil said.

Nick grinned. “I never thought you wouldn't,” he replied.

“Why did you take the money, then?” Sybil asked. “Was it just for me?”

“This is very hard,” Nick said. “When Evvie was in Eastgate, I made up a little scene where I told all of you just who I was, the truth about my parentage. I had it all worked out. Evvie would be stalwart, and Thea grieving for me, and Claire would be defiant, and you, you would just accept it, the way you've always accepted things. Only Evvie never brought it up, and I thought there was more time. I didn't know Schyler and Scotty were my nephews. I didn't know you were going to be hit by that car. I couldn't even be sure Grace had told Evvie. So I let time pass, and I lost my chance to make my little confession, and things got out of hand with Claire. No, that isn't fair. I lost control. I know I shouldn't have accepted that money, but I didn't have the strength to take the check and tear it up.”

“You needed it for me,” Sybil said.

Nick shook his head. “I took it for myself,” he replied. “Evvie's right about that, too. We could have worked something out. I could have borrowed from Grace, from Clark, from one of those rich relatives Daisy doesn't care for. But part of me still felt I had something coming, that Sebastian Prescott owed me something beyond his looks and the use of his first name. He didn't owe me anything, but I just couldn't accept that.”

“Maybe he owed me, then,” Sybil said. “I'm his granddaughter. Thanks to him, I'm walking again. Maybe he owed me that.”

“Don't,” Nick said. “Don't lie to yourself. If there's one thing I want you to learn from my mistakes, it's to at least be honest with yourself. Claire found an old man in a moment of weakness. She went in for the kill. She did it because she loves you, and she loves me, although she'd be loath to admit it, and because she loves victory. Sebastian Prescott doesn't owe us a thing.”

“I don't think I can walk much longer,” Sybil said. “Maybe we should turn around for home.”

“All right,” Nick said. “I'm glad we've had this walk.”

“We needed to talk,” Sybil said. “There's still a lot I don't understand.”

“Here's how it was, then,” Nick said. “My mother died when I was fifteen. She was a young woman really, younger than I am now, but she always seemed old to me. There are things you expect from your mother, love, comfort, protection, that she was incapable of giving me. She had two other children by my stepfather, and she was a little better with them, but not all that much. She got cancer and she died, and after we got back from the funeral, my stepfather kicked me out. Bag and baggage. That was it. She died in January. I slept in a church that night. I didn't want to sleep outside. I thought I'd freeze to death.”

“You must have been so scared,” Sybil said.

“I was more angry than anything else,” Nick declared. “I knew what was coming, and I knew I should be making plans. No way my stepfather was going to let me stay on after my mother died. I meant to save up a little money, have something in my pocket for when I needed it, but Momma died a few days before I'd expected, and my stepfather moved faster than I'd thought he would. I swore I'd never be caught unprepared again, and of course, I have been, time and again. The world always surprises me, Sybil. For better or worse.”

“How did you survive?” Sybil asked. “There really wasn't a Mr. Wilson?”

“There was one teacher,” Nick said. “But he made it clear that we were to share a bed. That happened to me a lot, both with men and women. Only I wouldn't do it. I turned down all the easy offers, and I got a variety of jobs instead, washing dishes, caddying, anything I could get. I did best with jobs that paid tips. I lived in Ys, in flophouses, in boarding houses when the money was good. Some nights, when things were really bad, I'd sneak back home for a few hours' sleep. But I got by. I knew I was smart and I knew I was handsome and I knew people liked me. My fellow dishwashers didn't like me, but I had their respect, because they could see I wasn't taking the easy way out. Things would have been fine if I'd been satisfied with the respect of dishwashers. But I wasn't. I'd lie on some anonymous bed or another, and I'd fantasize about all I had coming to me. It seemed easier to blame Sebastian Prescott for my problems than to try and solve them on my own. I was wrong, but I was young, and when you're young, it's easy to make mistakes.”

“So you went to see him,” Sybil said. “Was it terrible?”

“Bad enough,” Nick replied. “I'd convinced myself of all he owed me. At the very least, a college education, four years of Ivy League all neatly paid for. I wanted his respect, too, because in spite of the odds, I'd graduated from high school, done well, been accepted by Princeton. But what I dreamed for was his love. God, I wanted a lot.”

“He should have respected you,” Sybil said. “He should have loved you.”

“He'd given my mother some money when she'd told him she was pregnant,” Nick said. “That was it as far as he was concerned. I know it threw him to see me looking so much like him, and maybe if I'd been as shrewd as Claire, or had had more of an advantage over him, the way she did, I could have gotten something more out of him. As it was, he gave me a check for three thousand dollars and told me to get out.” Nick stood still for a moment, and Sybil stood next to him. They were only a couple of blocks away from home. She tried to will the pain away.

“The worst part wasn't my taking the three thousand,” Nick said. “He could afford it. But I was so damned impressed that he had that kind of money in his checking account. I told myself that was how I wanted to be, rich and cruel. I wanted to be just like him, because he had refused to let me into his life. If he'd been kind, I probably would have rejected him.”

“That's not true,” Sybil said. “You're not cruel.”

Nick laughed. “I'm certainly not rich,” he said. “In any event, I took that three thousand and I parlayed it into four years' tuition. It was wrong of me to expect the money, and wrong of me to take it, and once I had it, I did wrong things with it to make it grow, but at least I stopped when I had the money I needed. Daisy knew the whole story. She loved me anyway. By then I knew people would want me even if they didn't understand me, because I was handsome and charming and had that brooding undercurrent that Clark so admired. But I was sure no one could ever really know me and love me. Only Daisy did. I never tested my luck by being honest with my daughters. To all of you, I lied. But Daisy always knew the truth.”

“We would have loved you anyway,” Sybil said. “I love you anyway.”

“I'm a foolish man,” Nick said. “Fear does that to you. I love you all so much. Evvie has all the strength I longed for, and Thea has a soul filled with compassion and forgiveness that is beyond my imagination. Claire may lie to the rest of the world, but she is truer to herself than anybody I've ever known, even Daisy. And you have so much courage. Strength, forgiveness, honesty, and courage. You're miraculous to me.”

“We're your daughters,” Sybil said. “We must have gotten it from you.”

“I see the car,” Nick said. “Daisy must be home. I love you, Sybil.”

“I know,” she said. She watched as Nick began to walk faster. She couldn't keep up with him, and she didn't bother trying. The last block she took by herself, slowly. It had started to rain. The front door was unlocked, so she let herself in, walked to the kitchen, and saw Nick kiss Meg and leave the house.

“Where's he going?” she asked, as she watched Meg unpack the grocery bags.

“There's a piece of property Nick heard about,” Meg replied. “In Revere. Nick thinks it's worth looking at.”

Sybil knew that meant Nick would take the reward. She sat down by the kitchen table and wished she didn't love him so much. It would be easier if she didn't know him. “We had a long talk,” she said.

“I know,” Meg replied, closing the refrigerator door. “Have faith. Things will all work out.”

“I sure hope so,” Sybil said.

“I'm going to start the bread,” Meg said. “So it'll be just finished when Nick gets back. Do you want to help?”

Sybil shook her head. “I need a hot bath,” she said. “And then I'd better start doing some homework. I have school in a couple of days.”

“Fair enough,” Meg said. “Do you want me to massage your legs?”

“They're not that bad,” Sybil said. She hated the thought of Meg touching her just then. “I'll be down in a while.”

“I'll be here baking,” Meg said.

Sybil relaxed in the tub, then dressed, and went to the living room to do her homework. A week before, she had turned sixteen, and her sisters had all been there to celebrate. When Nick was sixteen, he was alone, living in flophouses. When Meg was sixteen, she fell in love. Sybil just hoped the next fifty-one weeks would prove a little easier for all of them.

She was working on her French translation, vaguely aware of the smell of the baking bread, vaguely aware that Sam's grandfather's funeral must be just about to begin, when the doorbell rang. She answered it herself. There were two police officers standing there.

“We're looking for Margaret Sebastian,” the older of the two men said. Neither man looked especially comfortable.

Sybil thought they must be there because of Linda Steinmetz, although why they'd want Meg escaped her. They must have questions, though, about how much the Sebastians had known and why they'd waited so long to contact the police. She only hoped they weren't planning to harass Evvie that day, too. Evvie didn't need that.