Sybil at Sixteen (18 page)

“Nicky said he didn't owe us anything,” Sybil said. “Maybe you shouldn't accept what he gives you.”

“Maybe,” Sam said. “In any event, we haven't decided yet what to do.”

“Claire would like it if you invited him,” Sybil said. “Just because they look alike. I worry sometimes that she'll feel even less connected to the rest of us now, because Nicky is dead, and he was the one she looked like. Claire looks for excuses like that.”

“We all look for excuses,” Sam said. “Can I tell you something I've never told anybody else?”

“I guess,” Sybil said. She was still wary about confessions.

Sam shifted the wine bottle from one arm to the other. “Before I met Evvie, I'd never told anybody about my parents,” he said. “In Eastgate people knew, and undoubtedly they gossiped, but never to my face. And back on Long Island, where I was Sammy Greene, nobody knew the truth. My grandparents saw to that. Evvie was the first person I ever told. And I wouldn't have told her, except Schyler Hughes let her know first.”

“Claire's in love with him, I think,” Sybil said.

“She can have him,” Sam said. “Anyway, Schyler's plan backfired and Evvie accepted the truth, and I went back to Long Island asking myself why I'd made such a big deal out of lying all those years. I even got self-righteous. It was my grandparents' fault that I'd been made to lie. It would serve them right if everybody knew exactly who my mother, their daughter, was. The more I thought about it, the more I was determined to start letting people know. The truth shall set you free. That sort of thing.”

“The truth doesn't set you free,” Sybil said. “Sometimes it just binds you even closer.”

“All right, you're smarter than I was,” Sam said. “That isn't so surprising. Anyway, I decided I'd start with my best friend, Big Red.”

“Big Red?” Sybil said. “That sounds like a dog.”

“His name was Billy Moscowitz,” Sam said. “Moscow's in Russia, so that meant he was Red, and Big just naturally followed. Big Red and I had been best friends for years. We were even blood brothers at one point. He was Big Red, and I was the Jolly Greene Giant. Neither one of us ever made it past five foot eight, but we felt real big.”

Sybil laughed. “Where is he now?” she asked. “Do you still see him?”

Sam shook his head. “Not since high school,” he replied. “I picked Big Red to tell the truth to for a lot of reasons. He was cool. And he knew my grandparents better than any of my other friends did. His parents and my grandparents went to the same temple together. He was the perfect choice. He'd be sure to tell his parents, and my grandparents would find out and be humiliated. Which was what I wanted. I wanted them to be hurt, because after I met Evvie, I had to come to grips with just how much I'd been hurt. Before then, I'd never really noticed.”

“How did Big Red take it?” Sybil asked.

“He didn't believe me,” Sam said. “It wasn't like I laid the whole case out in front of him with documents and transcripts. I just told him who my parents were, and how my father had really died, not in some well-mannered car crash …” His voice trailed off. “Sorry,” he said.

Sybil was silent for a moment. “Sometimes I think about it,” she said. “How it must have been for Nicky right at the end. But mostly I try not to.”

Sam nodded. “You can't really know,” he said. “Anyway, Big Red didn't believe a word I said. He howled with laughter. The more I insisted, the funnier he thought it was. He kept accusing me of making the whole story up, and after a while, I said I had. I said I'd been testing him to see how gullible he was, because Lisa Levine had been claiming that she liked him, and if he believed me then he might believe her, too. Something like that.”

“And Big Red believed you?” Sybil asked. “That you'd made it up?”

“He did,” Sam said. “After all, his truth was that my parents had died in an accident when I was two. I'd known differently for a while, but he never did. But the thing was, as soon as I stopped insisting on telling him the truth, the minute I reverted back to the lie, I hated myself. I felt I was scum.”

“Why?” Sybil asked.

“Because I'd repudiated my parents,” Sam said. “Both of them. My father died in a way I doubt I would have approved of, but it was his way. He was fighting for a cause he believed in enough to die for, and I denied him that when I claimed he died in an accident. And my mother wasn't dead at all, or if she was, I didn't know it. She'd spent fifteen years at that point running and hiding and leading some kind of hellish existence, and I didn't even have the courage to force my best friend to believe me. It cost me that friendship. I felt I'd picked him over my mother, and maybe I had.”

“Maybe you were right to,” Sybil said. “What had your mother ever done for you?”

“That's what Evvie keeps asking,” Sam said. “Of course the two of you are used to a mother who does a lot. You have different standards. I kept on lying, and I lied through college. A few people at the newspaper knew, because I wanted to use my father's name as well as my mother's, and some of the reporters had good memories for old news stories. But I never felt the same about the lies. After Big Red, I always felt bad, like I was protecting myself, and not my grandparents or my mother. Evvie was the only person I had I didn't have to lie to. I just made her lie for me.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Sybil said.

“That's what Evvie says,” Sam replied. “But I don't know. When I finally saw my mother, all I wanted to do was apologize to her for lying to Big Red. I wanted to tell her the whole story, just so she would forgive me. Only I didn't. We had so little time, and we were never alone; there was always an armed guard in the room. They frisked me every day when I went to visit her. They frisked my grandmother, too, which was a real outrage as far as I was concerned. She's seventy-two years old, her husband had died two days earlier, and they think she's smuggling guns in to her dying daughter.”

“I guess they were doing their job,” Sybil said.

“I guess,” Sam said. “The tap's off my phone. I told Evvie not to expect the FBI at our wedding. She claims she's disappointed.”

“Do you think your mother loved you?” Sybil asked.

Sam laughed. “You're the first person to ask me that,” he replied. “Not even Evvie's had that much nerve. Yes, I think she did. Maybe not the way I'd have wanted her to love me. But I think she did what she knew was best for me, letting me grow up in a stable environment with her parents. She did move around a lot, change her name, her job, everything she could change. She spared me that, out of love.”

“Nicky loved us,” Sybil said. “All of us.”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said. “That was obvious. That shone through.”

Sybil saw the apartment building half a block away. “Is Evvie all right?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Sam said. “But she will be. Are you all right?”

“Not yet,” Sybil replied. “But talking with you has helped.”

Sam nodded. “There've been a lot of mistakes,” he said. “Going way way back. All we can do is accept who we are, and try to make things better.”

“That's where Nicky was when he died,” Sybil said.

“My mother, too,” Sam said. “Maybe we can learn from them, and shorten the process a little bit.”

“I hope so,” Sybil declared. “I'm ready for some healing.”

“And some spaghetti?” Sam said. “We'd better get in there. Eve wants this wine for the meat sauce.”

“Eve?” Sybil asked.

“I promised Evvie I would call her that on our wedding day,” Sam said. “A long time ago I made that promise. I've been working on it on and off ever since, trying to get used to the way it sounds. Eve. I kind of like it. What do you think?”

“It beats hell out of Sybbie,” Sybil replied, and she and her future brother shared their laughter for the first time in many many weeks.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

“Now this,” Claire said. “This is truly a dump.”

“You and your dumps,” Thea said. “I can't get over this place. Evvie, it's just perfect.”

“It sure didn't feel that way when I stayed here,” Evvie replied.

“Oh, come on, Evvie,” Thea said. “I remember when you came back that summer. All you talked about was how beautiful Aunt Grace's house was, the views of the ocean and the gardens.”

“All she talked about was Sam, you mean,” Claire said. “Evvie used to be a very interesting person before that summer.”

“She's still interesting,” Sybil said, looking around the room. “So this was really the bedroom you used?”

“It had been Megs's room,” Evvie replied. “I loved it. I can't get over being back here.”

“Aunt Grace was a definite hoot,” Claire said. “Leaving her summer home in Eastgate to the state, with the proviso that any Winslow heirs who wanted to use it for weddings and christenings must be allowed to.”

“I'm surprised the state accepted those terms,” Thea declared.

“No one argued with Aunt Grace, even from the grave,” Evvie replied. “Sam and I couldn't think of a more appropriate place to get married than here in Eastgate. We met here, and in a lot of ways it's home for both of us.”

“Nicky and Megs met here, too,” Thea said. “I hope Megs can cope with the memories.”

“I asked her a hundred times if it would be okay,” Evvie declared. “She said it would be every single time.”

“She's fine,” Sybil said. “She's so excited about this wedding nothing could bother her.”

“What bothers me is Grace not leaving this joint to us,” Claire said. “Weddings and christenings. I wish she'd included mad flings in her list of sanctioned events.”

“Sam's the one who's going to be mad if I don't get dressed right away,” Evvie said. “Sybil, want to go downstairs and see how he's doing?”

“I'd be delighted,” Sybil said. She loved excuses to walk around the house. The family had arrived in Eastgate the night before, and stayed at Clark's summer house, down the road from Aunt Grace's. Clark's house had been spectacular, too, but Grace's held so many memories. Sybil smiled. Meg was fine. Somehow seeing the house had made her happy about Nick again, as though he'd gone back to being nineteen and full of promise. Another unexpected legacy from Grace.

“What's taking her so long?” Sam demanded as soon as he spotted Sybil. “I've been waiting six years for this moment. I don't want to wait six more.”

“Calm down,” Sybil said. “It's Evvie's wedding day, too. Besides, it's against the law for brides to hurry.”

“Sammy never was very patient,” his grandmother said. “I remember as a boy, he always wanted to skip right over dinner and go straight for the dessert.”

“That's because you always made spinach,” Sam said. “Growing American boys don't want spinach. They want ice cream.”

“Speaking of which, does your mother need any help in the kitchen?” Mrs. Greene asked. “I peeked in a few minutes ago, and she was puttering away, looking so in control of things, I was scared to ask.”

“I'll check for you,” Sybil said. “Sam, calm down. Evvie's almost ready.”

“If she chickens out, I'll kill her,” Sam declared. “You know, I think I'll go upstairs and tell her that right now.”

“You do, you die,” Sybil said. “It's bad luck to see your bride on your wedding day. Until the ceremony, that is.”

“Don't worry, Sybil,” Sam's aunt Ronnie said. “I'll sit on him, if I have to. Tell Evvie to take her time.”

“I have a family of sadists,” Sam said, but he looked resigned to waiting.

Sybil walked into the kitchen, and found Meg putting the last touches on the wedding cake. “It's beautiful,” Sybil said. “Can I have a piece?”

“Not right now,” Meg said, but she laughed. “It did turn out well, didn't it? I haven't decorated a cake in so long, I was afraid I'd forgotten how.”

Sybil stared at the delicate design of flowers and lace on the cake. “You still remember,” she said. “I hope it tastes half as good as it looks.”

“It'll taste better,” Meg replied. “It's pure chocolate in there. Sam loves chocolate cake, and I've never understood why wedding cakes always have to be so bland and boring.”

“Mrs. Greene wants to know if you need any help,” Sybil said.

“I really don't,” Meg declared. “But tell her yes, I do. It'll be nice to have a chance to talk with her. Besides, we can set things up together.”

“Fine,” Sybil said. She went back to the living room, and found Mrs. Greene straightening out Sam's tie. “Megs said she'd be pleased if you'd come help,” she said. “And you should see the wedding cake.”

“We aren't going to need a wedding cake unless Evvie hurries up,” Sam said.

“What a worrier,” his grandmother said. “I swear I never raised him to worry. He must have gotten that from your side, Ronnie.”

“Steinmetzes are born worrying,” Ronnie declared. Mrs. Greene smiled at her, and left the room.

Ronnie shook her head. “So much happiness and joy,” she said. “In Eastgate, of all places. I swore after Momma's funeral, I'd never come to this miserable town again.”

“Eastgate's all right,” Sam said. “I liked my summers here.”

“This has got to be the first Jewish wedding this town's ever seen,” Ronnie declared. “And at Grace Winslow's house to boot. She must be turning over in her grave.”

“I don't think so,” Sam said. “Grace kind of liked me, in a hostile condescending way. But she was hostile and condescending with everybody. That was just her style.”

The doorbell rang. Sybil walked over and opened the door.