The House on Olive Street (25 page)

“Well, if I have somehow lost my mind and my resolve, I suppose I’ll move back in and clean it up. If, on the other hand, I still feel as strongly, I’ve been thinking about a small, tidy, inexpensive apartment—where there are no greasy rags thrown in the washer with my lingerie.”

The judge smiled. “I wish you luck, Mrs. Vaughan. Now, back to this other matter.”

“I should have called the police, I know. I never thought they’d catch me with it before I could turn it over to them. What an idiot. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would ever think I could be a drug dealer.”

“Oh, they come in all shapes and sizes, my dear Mrs. Vaughan. Your story is compelling, but we still have the matter of six pounds of cannabis—”

“Cannabis?” Barbara Ann asked.

“Marijuana. Weed. Hemp. You with me here?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“We still have the matter of six pounds of
marijuana
for which you are charged with possession.”

“Your Honor, we have filed a motion for dismissal based on illegal search and—”

“Oh, give me a break, Mr. Warneke, it was sitting on the seat behind her and the officer could see it when he ticketed her. That’s probable enough for me. Now, as to the matter of possession, if we could have a change of plea to guilty, I think the prosecutor could be convinced to accept a sentence, Mrs. Vaughan, and save the state a
little money.” Breath was inhaled all over the courtroom. “Five hundred hours of community service, which can be served by any or all members of your family.”

“Your Honor, this is
felony possession,
” came the very first input from the prosecutor.

“I know what it is. She was obviously not trying to hide it. I might feel differently if the officer had found it in her trunk. But I believe Mrs. Vaughan found it in a freestanding unlocked building on her property. I’ll even go so far as to write a codicil to her sentence so that if she’s ever before this court again on any kind of drug charge, misdemeanor included, you can safely assume she’ll be hung out to dry. Done?” The judge rapped her gavel. “Mrs. Vaughan?” she asked. “Come here a minute, will you?” Barbara Ann approached the judge. “I have three sons, Mrs. Vaughan. They are now aged twenty-nine, twenty-six and twenty-three. They are largely survivable.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Your Honor. Thank you very much.”

“You lucked out. I could have been childless, in which case your story would have seemed preposterous.” She smiled warmly. “They’re very lucky to have you. I hope they come to realize that soon. See the bailiff for your instructions.”

Barbara Ann turned to see her lawyer’s back as he exited the courtroom. Just as well, she didn’t want to have to deal with him. She went to the bailiff and signed a few papers, promising to carry out her community service and return verification to the court. Her hands were shaking almost too much to sign and lift the papers in her hand.

The next defendant had already been called and addressed by the judge. She was asked about her narcotic
possession. She looked like a hooker—fluffy hair, lots of makeup, tight, short skirt, high heels… And gum in her mouth.

“Well, ye see, Yer Honor, ma’am, I have this really, really messy family…”

“Don’t push me,” the judge said.

Barbara Ann’s knees were knocking almost uncontrollably as she left the courtroom. Her family and friends were waiting in the hallway for her and they cheered her and embraced her as she joined them.

“Way to go, Barbara Ann!”

“We’ll do the community service, Mom. You’re not going to have to worry about it.”

“Bobby’s going to do the most, though.”

“The lawyer sure came in handy. Ask for a discount in his fee.”

“What did the judge say to you, Barbara Ann?”

They all stopped talking for a moment and waited for her answer. She looked at each face, her mouth open as if she would speak, but before she could get the words out a lot of things rushed through her mind. The sentences issued to the two previous offenders had been harsh, ruthless. Four months for missing a couple of meetings with a probation officer? Eighteen months for a young, single mother who had requested rehabilitation? If this particular judge hadn’t been the mother of three boys, she could be on her way to jail right now. After all, drug dealers must have a variety of creative stories about how they didn’t really have the drugs they had.

Before she could answer, Barbara Ann fainted.

B
y the first week of August the women were editing, revising and reviewing chapters seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty of Gabby’s book. They found the product to be stunning, compulsively readable. Each one was extremely excited about the prospects for its sale and ultimate success. From page one, they believed, the book only escalated in tension and power. These particular chapters were riveting, as had been those chapters in Gabby’s life. Trouble had been brewing for her at home—her ex-husband questioning whether it was fair for Gabby to continue these travels, the children beginning to show signs of needing more of her. The love affair grew only more intense, while the locales had grown increasingly dangerous. Clare and Brandt were beginning to fight about their future together, as, apparently, Gabby and John had been. Each was being torn apart by their own strife in family and work, longing for the other’s passion, fearing to give any more to what could end as only misspent time; an affair that began and ended away from the mainstream of life. Tormented lives, tormented love. It was fabulous.

But the women were tensely arguing each sentence, each paragraph, each scene.

“Okay, hold it!” Eleanor barked, stifling the verbal battle during one of their many story conferences. “The book is marvelous and getting better every day, despite all this bickering. Something else is going on here. What is it?”

No one answered. Sable picked at her nails. Barbara Ann looked off toward nothing in particular. Beth sipped her iced tea, eyes downcast.

“Oh Lord, that’s it. It’s the end.”

“We don’t have an ending for the book that we all agree on,” Barbara Ann said.

“That wasn’t the end I was talking about. None of you can face the fact that we’re nearly finished here.”

“Well, don’t be so bloody hard on us, Eleanor. Even Ceola hasn’t left—and it’s been well over two weeks.”

“Nor have any of us complained that she’s still here,” Barbara Ann said.

“At least you have school to go back to,” Beth said.

“All right, now listen,” Eleanor said. “If we need to talk about all that, then we’ll talk about it, but let’s not let it interfere with this book. It needs to be finished, finished well, and marketed to the right person. Despite our personal problems.”

“It’s hard to imagine what life’s going to be like, that’s all,” Barbara Ann said. “I mean, forget about us, what about Sarah and the baby? David and Ed? Dr. Don? What’s everyone going to do without this place? I think we should all pitch in and buy the house from the kids. Keep it. You know, as our meeting place.”

Everyone looked at her wearily.

“I had no idea you were that scared,” Elly finally said.

The logic behind keeping the house was so pitifully flawed that no one even spoke to it. Beth wasn’t going
to be staying in California and had no need for such a place. Even if she could convince herself that she could retreat here with the women every summer, she knew that was not likely to happen. She had no idea what she faced in Kansas City, but she’d somehow make a life there, enough of a life so that she wouldn’t have to run away from it for weeks or months out of every year. Or else why go? Surely it was right that she be back there with her siblings, confusing though they still were to her.

Barbara Ann was afraid that of the three choices she had left herself, none would feed and nurture her spirit the way living with these crazy women had. She could sneak home and find that her house was unchanged, which was what she expected. That would leave her with an apartment of her own, tidy but lonely. Or perhaps her family, finally cognizant of the consequences of discourtesy, had learned something from her absence and could at long last keep house. That should fill her with joy. But it didn’t. Living without the women in her life would be nearly as hard as living without her children had been. Harder, perhaps.

Sable was not anxious to go back to the sparkling, sterile, lonely Hidden Valley manse. Even though Jeff had become a significant part of her personal life, something was lacking in her. She could still the throbbing of what was to come for her when she was with the women. She was headed for change—she knew it—and could face it as long as she didn’t have to face it alone. Perhaps her career as she’d known it was over, her reputation destroyed. She could certainly live happily without fame. But what would she do with herself? Could she write her stories if there was no one to read them? What was to be her purpose? Sable had always been useful. She had always had hard work and a strong mission to fulfill
every single day, whether she was putting the caps on hair spray cans in order to feed and care for her child, or getting that book done on time so she could go on tour.

“I’m going to set a deadline for the book,” Eleanor said. “It’s the only thing to do. We’re going to finish it by the end of the third week in August.” She picked up the calendar she used to keep track of their progress on the book. “The twentieth,” she announced. “That’s a Friday. We’ll have the house closed up by the following Monday morning. That gives me a week before school starts…and the rest of you? You have three weeks to decide what you’re going to do. I’ll help all I can.”

“Come on, Elly, don’t be so rigid. Your life isn’t going to change, after all,” Sable said.

“Isn’t it?” she asked, but so softly no one bothered to argue about it. So Elly had school, as she’d had for over thirty years. And her little house. And Ben. But it was not as though the summer had had no effect on her. She was as changed by the whole thing as anyone else. And she faced at least as many uncertainties. She, too, would have to carry on without a place to go, where her friends were always there, loving her unconditionally despite the fact that she was odd and terse and homely and tactless. It would be like saying goodbye to Gabby all over again.

“What are we going to do about seeing each other?” Sable asked.

“Well, you have the room at your place. But we’ll have to plan better—you’re a long drive. Hell, we’ll bang around town here until something feels right. Maybe we’ll get really crazy and meet in Carmel in a beach house for a week every summer. There are many possibilities,” Elly said. “It’s not as though we’ll lose touch.”

“I don’t know why it has to end, abruptly, with the end of summer,” Barbara Ann said. “What’s the matter with it just being indefinite? We’re all at work here. Your commute to Berkeley is only ten minutes longer from here, Elly. Or, maybe Sable and I want to hang out a little longer than the rest of you. Maybe—”

“There are other people in all our lives,” Eleanor said. “It’s time, Barbara Ann. Let’s make it a clean break and let Gabby’s life—the life that isn’t in her books, at least—be over. She was never afraid of dying. She was afraid of not living. And that’s what she’d expect of us. To get on with our lives.” There was silence while each one absorbed the truth to that. Sable nodded. She didn’t know where she was going, but since when had she known? Beth had wanted to have a child and raise it, albeit alone. Now she had to decide how she was going to do that. Barbara Ann knew what she wanted. She was simply afraid that she would find herself in the same frustrating rut, escaping into a package of Ding Dongs when her work and her family became too demanding. “August twentieth. Where is Ceola?”

“She’s in her bedroom, reading or listening to talk radio.”

“I’ll give her the date when she next pops out here looking for one of her servants. So she can prepare herself.” The doorbell rang and Elly looked at her watch. It was six-thirty. “Good. Diversion. Someone to remind us we have to think about food.” She stood up. “Don’t be so down about it. You can’t put off the inevitable.”

“Is that what it really is?” Barbara Ann asked when Elly had gone to the door. “Are we all scared of being on our own again?”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t look forward to it,” Sable said. “I spent the last twenty years trying to
pretend I didn’t have my past. I’m going to spend the next twenty answering questions about it. Delightful.”

“At least you didn’t make an arbitrary decision to get pregnant,” Beth said. “You know, I had absolutely no misgivings about my ability to raise a child alone. I was positively determined. Not a single doubt in my mind—until I missed a period. Then I wondered if I’d been crazy.”

“Beth?” Elly asked, taking off her glasses. “Beth, it’s Jack.”

“Jack?” she asked weakly.

“He says he wants to talk to you. I can tell him you’re not here.”

“Yes,” Sable said. “Tell him she’s gone home to Kansas City.”

“No,” Beth said. “I’ll talk to him for a minute.”

“Beth,
don’t!
”

She stood up. “He’s not going to
hurt
me, for heaven’s sake. Not with all of you around here. I’m just going to talk to him.”

Sable grabbed her upper arms as she would have passed. “Beth, he’s going to manipulate you any way he can. He’s going to try and suck you back in. Please believe me. I’ve been there.”

“I’m just going to talk to him, Sable. I’m not going to leave with him.”

Beth walked briskly toward the door, straightening her back as she went. She opened the door and walked outside. Barbara Ann, Elly and Sable all rushed to the front room the moment the door closed behind Beth. They listened at the closed door, but couldn’t hear anything. “There they are,” Barbara Ann said, peeking through the front-room curtains. “Sitting on the planter box.”

Jack was wearing his pilot uniform, twirling his hat in his hands. There was no denying the handsomeness of this forty-two-year-old man. He was tall and fit, trim and in possession of a healthy head of brown hair. He had a winning smile, a seductive twinkle in his eyes. All the women, even Elly, would have felt a lot better about things if Jack were a little less handsome, a little less sexy. They watched as he talked to Beth, then as he listened for a long time, head down and nodding in apparent agreement. Beth seemed to have plenty to say. He looked up at her and laughed suddenly. She laughed, too. He talked a little more while she listened. And vice versa. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Barbara Ann gasped and covered her mouth as Jack put his arm around Beth’s shoulders and covered her still-flat abdomen with his large hand.

“I saw him put that same hand up some blonde’s skirt at a bar in New York,” Sable said.

“Should we call to her? Make her come back in?” Barbara Ann wanted to know.

“She’s an adult,” Elly said. “No matter what anyone says or does, ultimately it’s up to her.”

Sable was biting her nails. Barbara Ann was pacing in and out of the living room. Elly went for her cigarettes and began smoking, taking fast puffs. Beth was outside with Jack for a half hour, sitting on the planter box with him. Talking, sometimes laughing. Finally they stood, facing each other. They exchanged a few more words and Beth nodded. Jack leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “We’re doomed,” Sable said.

Beth had to tap on the door to be admitted; it locked itself when it closed. When she came in she wore an embarrassed smile. “I’m going to have dinner with Jack,” she said.

“Have you lost your mind?” Sable demanded.

“Beth, you know he’ll only try to wear you down. This is crazy,” Barbara Ann said.

“He thinks we should talk about our separation, about visitation and child support payments.”

“The baby isn’t even going to be born for six months! Can’t you see through this?”

“He’s still my husband. He’s still the baby’s father. Even if we don’t stay together, certain things have to be worked out,” Beth said.

“If?” Sable questioned.

“Beth, you have months to work things out. It should be done through a lawyer, someone who can take care of you.”

“You can’t be saying that you intend to allow Jack to visit this baby? Maybe take him for the weekend, in case he doesn’t have anything else around to punch?”

Beth’s face became stern. Angry. “I doubt I can keep him from seeing his own child,” she answered stiffly.

“You could if you pressed charges. He beat you. You have plenty of witnesses. He’s dangerous to your baby.”

“I don’t think I’m going to worry about that now,” Beth said. “This is only dinner. To talk a few things over.”

“By all means, worry about that tomorrow,” Elly said. “Scarlett.” She turned her back on Beth and headed for the kitchen.

“Beth, you aren’t kidding yourself that he’s changed, are you?” Barbara Ann asked.

“I don’t know that he’s changed all the way,” she said, “but I’m not afraid to go to dinner with him. He isn’t going to beat me up in a restaurant.”

“Maybe not tonight, at dinner,” Barbara agreed. “And maybe not the next time you go to dinner, either. He
might mind his manners for a whole month, in fact. But eventually he’s going to—”

“Please,” she said, stopping Barbara Ann. “We’re just talking about dinner. I’m not going home with him, I’m just letting him buy me dinner so we can talk things over!”

“There would be nothing to talk over if you planned to get a divorce. Beth, please don’t lie to us, of all people.”

“I’m not lying to you!”

“Yes, you are. We saw him laugh with you. Touch the baby. Kiss you. This isn’t just dinner. This is just the beginning, till he has you back in his clutches where he can—”

“He’s been to counseling!” she spat, indignant. It certainly shut them up. They stared at her, gape-mouthed. “He’s been to counseling,” she said again, more softly. “He went for help. He knows he has a problem. He knows he has to stay in control of his temper. He wants to talk to me about it. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“Did he bring you a note from his therapist?” Sable wanted to know.

“Oh please, don’t do this to me,” she whined. “You know how hard I’ve tried. You know how much I want this baby. I wouldn’t let the baby be unsafe. He’s docile as a lamb! Please, I do have some common sense, some judgment. I don’t think going to dinner with him could hurt any—”

“Beth,” Sable said, stopping her, “will you answer me honestly? As honestly as you can?”

Beth nodded.

“If you have dinner with him and it’s pleasant, would you consider having dinner again?”