The Way Back to Happiness (27 page)

“Oh, right. I’m always to blame for everything.” Diana fitfully opened a lipstick, slapped the cap back on, then tossed it back into her cosmetic bag. “I’m sick of it.” She twisted back to Bev. “Okay—you want to know the truth about what happened?”

“I can’t wait to hear this,” Bev drawled.

“The truth is, it was all your fault.”

Bev rarely expected her sister to make sense, but even coming from Diana, this took monumental gall. “
My
fault? All I did was come down with the mumps.”

“Before that,” Diana said. “You’re always so . . . so you. Solid Bev. Practical Bev. Hard-working Bev. Who does Mama always turn to? Bev. It’s like having Walter Cronkite for a sister.”

“Are you out of your mind? You’re talking like a child.”

“See? You’re so condescending. Always. So, okay, maybe I expected to have a little fun with Tom at your expense. I thought he’d be like you, with pants. I expected to laugh at him. But then he showed up, and we went out, and I actually had fun. Real fun. He was cute and funny and smart. Only he didn’t treat me like an idiot, like you do. And I could tell he was attracted to me, and that was such a turn-on, because he wasn’t like most of the meatballs I’ve gone out with. You can see how I fell for him, can’t you?”

Bev’s anger rose. “Of course. Especially when it provided you with an opportunity to ruin my life.”

“That’s not how it was. When Tom and I are together—”

“I don’t want to hear any more!” If Diana had gone on for another second, Bev would have had to cover her ears. “You are an affliction. Tom might not know it yet, but you’re going to make him miserable. I thought he was supposed to be at Fort Sill right now anyway.”

Diana slumped. “He washed out of officer training.”

“Washed out?”

“We had a spat. I ran away and he . . . well, he kind of went AWOL. It didn’t go down so good with the top brass.”

“Oh God,” Bev said.

“It’s okay now. He’s not going to be court-martialed. Only, his parents threw a fit. I think they had to pull strings to keep him from getting tossed into the brig, or whatever they call it. And so he insisted we come back here and get married. I said I’d be happy to go to a justice of the peace. Or Vegas—that would have been fun. But Tom seemed to feel that since we’d made so much trouble, we could at least please his parents by doing the traditional thing and getting married at home. But of course, the first thing they tried to do was talk him out of it. I guessed he convinced them. It seemed like something he was just doing out of principle by the end, though. I don’t believe he’s thinking of me at all.”

Bev barely listened to the last part, about the wedding. She was too shocked. Tom hadn’t finished his training—had gone AWOL. He could have been tossed in jail, or court-martialed. It was lucky that he hadn’t been. But now he was probably going to be assigned to a unit and shipped out soon.

“The weird thing is,” Diana continued, “I was actually beginning to believe in fairy tales and happy ever after and all that crap. And then we got here, and his parents were so cold and snooty, and they called Mama, and stuffed me in this dress, and here I am. The lamb to the slaughter.”

“Oh, who cares?” Bev cried. “Would you for once look at someone besides yourself? What’s going to happen to Tom?”

“I don’t know.” Diana looked as if she might cry. “There’s all this pressure now, and we only have another day before he has to go back. I feel sick. I don’t know about anything anymore.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to get married?”

“I don’t . . .” Diana shook her head. “. . . know.”

Or maybe she meant
no.
Bev couldn’t tell. Either answer should have filled her with glee. But this was so messed up and confusing. She didn’t want Tom and Diana to get married, but a part of her didn’t want Tom to be jilted, either. Especially after Diana had already disrupted his life.

“Maybe I should go someplace and hide away,” Diana said. “California or somewhere like that.”

“Diana, that’s insanity.” Maybe Diana was rubbing off on her, though. She’d marched in bursting with righteous anger. Now it looked as if the marriage she’d been hell-bent on scuppering might not even take place. Even that thought gave her no satisfaction.

“Well, what else am I going to do?” Diana gazed at her with desperation. She looked terrible. Her mascara was smudged even more now, its dark rings shadowing her eyes.

“Why ask me?” Bev said. “You never take my advice.”

“I would now.”

Fuming again, Bev stood. “You sit there saying you’re so miserable, but do you have any idea what you’ve done? You stole my life, my happiness. Even when you knew it would ruin me, ruin my child’s life. You didn’t care! You did it anyway, when you weren’t even sure whether Tom was someone you really loved. You still don’t know! And now you’ve got the gall to say you want my advice. I’d like to wring your neck.”

Diana gaped at her through the whole outburst. “Wait—back up.
Child?
”

Bev tossed her head. “Don’t act dumb. You knew. You heard Dr. Gary.”

“What did Dr. Gary say? When?”

“When I told him I was pregnant.”

“You’re
pregnant?
”

“You were hanging out right outside the door.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Diana shook her head frantically. “I didn’t know . . .”

“You acted like you knew.” A little of Bev’s certainty slipped away. “When Mama came back from work that afternoon—you made innuendo.”

Diana covered her mouth and turned away, clearly letting Bev’s words sink in. Then, as if gravity was suddenly too much for her, she slipped off the seat and sank to the floor.

“Oh God. Oh God.”

Diana’s reactions were always over the top, so it was hard to tell what was real and what was theatrics. She looked distressed, but Bev had seen her react the same way when NBC canceled
The Monkees.

“You don’t have to overdo the Sarah Bernhardt routine,” Bev told her. “There’s no baby now.”

“You had an abortion?”

Bev gritted her teeth. “A miscarriage.”

Her sister’s face was a mask of shock.

“Is it such a surprise?” Bev asked her. “I was under stress. My own sister ran off with my baby’s father. As far as I’m concerned, you killed that child.”

Diana recoiled.

Actually, the doctor had said there was a correlation between the mumps and an elevated risk of miscarriage. But Bev hadn’t wanted to believe that anything but her sister’s treachery had caused her misfortune.

“Oh God. I
am
cursed!” Diana lurched to her feet and started tossing clothes into her overnight case without even bothering to fold them. She slammed the case closed. “I had no idea, Bev. None. I never . . .” Then she shoved her feet into sandals and slammed her bag shut. Before reaching the door, she swung back. “This is all your fault! Why didn’t you tell me?”

And then she ran out.

“Diana!” Bev tore after her.

Her sister didn’t stop. Diana took the stairs so fast, Bev worried she was going to trip over the flowing skirt of her wedding muumuu.

Diana reached the first floor and streaked across the marble foyer. Tom glimpsed her from the library and ran out as Diana was throwing open the front door. “Diana! What’s the matter? Where are you going?”

Bev arrived at the bottom step.

“Where is she going?” he asked her.

“I think she’s having second thoughts,” Bev told him.

His face screwed up, perplexed, and then he dashed after her.

The Jacksons and Gladys appeared in the hallway—just in time to see Tom’s back as he slammed out the door after Diana, calling her name.

It was the last time Bev saw him.

“What’s happened?” Dot asked, running to peek out the front window. “Why is Diana stealing Tom’s car?”

“She’s got the jitters,” Bev explained.

“Jitters!” Mrs. Jackson scoffed. “What does
she
have to be jittery about?”

“Your son, for starters,” Gladys said.

They all gaped at Gladys, none more shocked than Bev.

“Our son?” Dorothy Jackson drew up to her full height. “Our son has sacrificed the position of an officer to chase after your girl.”

“Now he’s chasing after her in Daddy’s Cadillac,” Dot informed them.

“Your son was flaking out before he ever met Diana,” Gladys said, and Bev wasn’t sure which was more surprising—to hear her mother speak sharply to their hosts, or that she used the phrase
flaking out.
“He behaved abominably to Bev, making all sorts of promises and then up and deserting her when she was in a delicate condition.”

The three Jacksons pivoted toward Bev. Her heartbeat raced, and she had to fight the urge to flee like Diana had. She shook her head. “She means I had the mumps.”

Dorothy Jackson looked relieved to hear it, until Gladys piped up, “And it might be those mumps that got your son out of a paternity suit.”

“Mama!”

Turning away from the window, Tom’s sister squeaked in surprise. Bev had never seen anything rounder or brighter than Dot Jackson’s eyes at that moment. “You mean you were pregnant? By
Tom?
”

“Dot, go upstairs,” Dorothy ordered.

Dot wasn’t budging. “Is there going to be a lawsuit?”

“No, there definitely is not,” Dorothy Jackson said.

Gladys lifted her chin. “Oh no—you dodged that bullet.”

Dorothy rounded on Gladys. In their summer church outfits and helmets of hair sprayed into place with Aqua Net, they looked like two pastel prizefighters facing off. “I don’t believe we’ve dodged a bullet.” Dorothy Jackson’s voice was ice. “We’ve exchanged one bad alliance for an even more unfortunate one.”

“Unfortunate!” Gladys exclaimed.

“Your daughter—Diana—snatched our son out from under Bev’s nose, then ran off with him like a hoyden, luring him away from his training and ruining his chances at a career. And then, ever since our son brought her here to us, she’s been nothing but unpleasant. Why, even though we were against his marrying a waitress, we went out and bought her a nice dress and some things for her trousseau. And all because she told Tom that she was”—Dorothy shot a sidewise glance at Dot—“you know.”

Bev was struck dumb. Diana, pregnant? Why hadn’t she said?

Dot crossed her arms. “Wait—
Diana’s
knocked up, too?”

“Dot, hush. That’s vulgar.”

The girl practically crowed. “No kidding! Tom seems to be batting a thousand for once.”

“Dot—enough!” Dorothy said. “We don’t even know if this is true.”

Bev looked over at her mother, who was pale as the marble under her feet. “Why would you doubt it?” Gladys asked.

“Now, now,” Thomas Sr. said. “We needn’t discuss this right here, right now. The important thing should be—”

“Why
should
we believe her?” Dorothy said, interrupting him. “She just dropped from the sky, and then led poor Tom on a chase that very nearly cost him his honor. That speaks very poorly for her. And then the tales of pregnancy—of
two
pregnancies—and now she’s run off. Well, forgive me if I’m skeptical of her ever fitting in with our family. Jacksons simply don’t behave this way.”

“Diana is not part of this family,” Gladys declared, “and if she takes my advice, she never will be. I came here hoping to see my daughter married, but after half an hour in this house, I’m glad she’s run away. Better she be on her own than beholden to your grudging charity for the rest of her life.”

“There was nothing grudging about it. We even offered to let her stay here in the house with us while Tom is overseas.”

“Two days in this mausoleum would kill Diana,” Gladys said.

“Well!” Dorothy said. “I can see the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“The
rotten
apple,” Dot chimed in, using her tattling voice. “Diana called us jackasses, Mother. I heard her say it through the door.”

The Jacksons stiffened in outrage, but Gladys let out a full-throated cackle. “Come on, Bev. We’re leaving.”

Bev was stunned. “But, Mama . . . if it’s true about Diana . . .”

Mr. Jackson stepped forward. “That’s right. Let’s not be rash—”

“I’ll handle this, Thomas,” Dorothy snapped at him. “Lord knows, I’m not a woman who believes in burning bridges, but I have to speak my mind. Our son must be crazy to have gotten involved with any of you people, much less two of you.”

“I’ll agree that your son’s crazy,” Gladys said, “and I can see where he gets it.”

 

In the car afterward, Bev sank down into the seat. She’d taken the driver’s side, since her mother didn’t appear in any shape to be behind the wheel. She wasn’t sure she was any better off. Her whole body felt boneless and trembly.

Gladys let out a long, slow breath. “That didn’t go as I expected. What is the matter with you, getting us involved with people like that?”

“Tom’s different.” Weak and foolish, he might be. But he wasn’t cold-blooded.

“So you say. But while you were upstairs, he let that mother of his go on and on. And then that daughter—she’s a real chip off the old ice cube, that one.” Her mother turned and pinned her with her gaze. “Where did Diana say she was going?”

“I don’t know . . . I think maybe she mentioned California?”

“What!”

“She was upset. We had a little argument.”

“I never should have let you go up there.
I
should have seen to Diana and left you in the library. If I’d known of her condition . . .”

“I’m sure she’ll be back,” Bev said. “Tom went after her.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Just . . .” Bev remembered some terrible things. Calling her a menace. Saying she would be cursed, and that she never wanted to see her again.... But what had she said that Diana didn’t deserve?