Young Mr. Keefe (43 page)

“You know I want you to,” he said slowly.

“Oh, I'm glad you do! Let's have week-ends together, two or three more, anyway. Just think—there's Christmas coming, then New Year's. Let's have two or three week-ends—clandestine, all by ourselves! Then, if we're really sure, then—then we can bring Billy here, and really begin.”

He reached for her hand across the table. “I love you, Helen,” he said.

“And I love you.” She jumped up, brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Well,” she said, “let's do the dishes!” She began to clear the table. “This is what we need,” she said. “This is what we never had any of, before. A little baby is—well, they take a little looking-after. We need every minute we can possibly have to get to know each other. It's been such a long time …”

He stood up and put his arms around her. “You know,” he whispered, “I've been thinking all day—about last night. How wonderful it was. It was like it was way back at the beginning—before everything got mixed up. Isn't it strange? How everything got mixed up? But now—it's going to be all right now, isn't it?”

“There was a monster in both of us,” she said.

The telephone rang. Helen started to reach for it; then, instinctively she withdrew her hand. “Let's let it ring,” she said.

“All right …”

The telephone continued to ring. Then Jimmy said, “I'd better see who it is—” He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Jimmy? This is Claire. Were you asleep or something?”

“No,” he paused. “Where are you?”

“I'm here—about eight blocks away. At the Senator Hotel.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I meet you?” she said. “Just for a minute? I've got to see you.”

“What's happened?”

“Can I come up?” she asked.

“No, no—” he said quickly.

“Then meet me somewhere. Where can you meet me?”

Jimmy was silent.

“Where?” she asked. “Please, Jimmy, I've got to talk to you. It's terribly important.”

“I'm trying to think—”

“Look,” she said, “I'll start walking up the street and you start walking down. I'll follow the edge of the park, over to Capitol—I'll meet you half-way.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I'll explain. Start walking down Capitol. I'll start walking up.” There was a click as she hung up.

He replaced the telephone, then turned to Helen, who stood looking at him across the candle-lighted kitchen. “That was Claire Gates,” he said.

“Oh,” Helen said. “Is she—here?”

“Yes.”

“She wants to see you?”

“Yes,” he said.

Helen looked at him for a moment. “Then you'd better go,” she said.

“Helen, I—”

She smiled. “You've got to go,” she said. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” She went to the closet and took his raincoat from the hanger. “It's a miserable night,” she said. “That poor girl—”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because—I like her, really,” Helen said. “Now hurry.”

“Are you sure you understand? Why I have to see her?”

“Of course I do, darling. Just—”

“What?”

“Just hurry back!” she said, smiling. “And remember—”

“Remember what?”

“Nothing. Now hurry.”

At the door he stopped and turned. “I'll be right back,” he said.

He went out the door and down the steps to the street. The rain was coming down with a slow, steady drizzle, and there was still a sharp, cold wind that rattled the fronds of the ornamental palm trees in front of the apartment house. The sidewalk was deserted and quiet; a few cars splashed by on the street. As he walked down Capitol Avenue towards the park, Christmas trees glittered from several lighted windows as he passed. Then, ahead of him, emerging through a puddle of lamplight, he saw Claire walking towards him. She looked small and cold, her shoulders hunched close together. She was wearing a short mink jacket and white Angora mittens. He waved to her, and she hurried towards him.

“Oh, Jimmy,” she said breathlessly when they met. “I'm so glad you could meet me. I had to see you.” Her hair was loose and damp and her face was streaked with rain.

“What's happened?”

“I've left Blazer,” she said. “I'm going home.”

At first he didn't understand. “Home?” he said. “Where?”

“To Mars Hill. I've left him, Jimmy. I'm going to get a divorce. I'm going home.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Yes. Oh, Jimmy,” she said, “I'm kind of frightened. But it's what I must do! Jimmy—kiss me!”

Without thinking, he bent and kissed her forehead. “Claire,” he began, “I want to tell you something—”

She went on. “I moved out this morning,” she said. “While Blazer was at the office. I had to. I packed everything in Scarlet O'Hara—”

“Scarlet O'Hara?” he said. “But I thought—”

“Scarlet the
Second
!” she said. “Scarlet's twin. Oh, what a week-end I've been through—you'll never know! Last night I drove all the way to San Gregorio—to the beach. I thought if I could only just
sit
there on the sand! Just sit there! Listening to the waves coming in, trying to find some kind of peace! I walked for hours—or it seemed like hours. Finally in desperation I had to talk to someone. So I called Daddy at Mars Hill. When I heard his voice on the telephone, all I could do was cry! Let's walk this way—” she said.

They started down the street. “But to-day was better,” she said. “Now that I've done it—moved out—I feel so much better. Because I know it's all going to work out. Daddy said, ‘Come home.' So I'm going home. Over the mountains—our mountains, Jimmy …” She turned to him. “You're coming with me!”

“No, Claire.”

“Then you're following me—as soon as you can. You must, Jimmy. I need to be sure of that.”

“Listen to me, Claire—” he began.

“Jimmy—I've got wonderful news for you. And you mustn't be angry the way you were last time. But I went to see Helen. I got her to promise—don't interrupt, darling—I got her to promise that she would go to Reno right away. She promised me, Jimmy! She's going to get a divorce very quickly. She gave me her word!”

He stared at her bright face, incredulous. “Claire! I—”

But she wouldn't let him speak. “I know, I know what you're going to say,” she said. “You're going to talk about your job—how you have to stay here, in this dreadful state, and work. But you don't. You don't at all. Oh, Jimmy, think of Christmas time in New York. Christmas at Mars Hill! Remember the dances, all the parties? Remember how Connecticut comes to
life
at Christmas time? There are going to be hundreds—literally hundreds of parties! The Cotillion! Would you like to take me to the Cotillion? Won't it be wonderful? Jimmy—you must come back now, before Christmas!”

“I'm not going back,” he said.

“What do you mean? Of course you're going back! You always said you would. Blazer's staying here—he's the kind that should—but not you! Please come back now, Jimmy—”

“I'm sorry, Claire.”

“Listen, Jimmy,” she said, “I talked to Daddy. He's setting things up for me. Mars Hill will be mine some day. Just think—Mars Hill all to ourselves. And do you know what Daddy's doing? He's setting things up so I'll have a bigger income. I'll have thirty thousand, Jimmy. Just think—that, plus what you have—we'll be able to have an apartment on Park Avenue, Mars Hill, a house in France. How much will you have, Jimmy?”

“How much what?”

“How much money—income? That was one of the great troubles with Blazer and me—he had no money. Do you see what I mean? It's comforting to have all that money, don't you think? That's why I can leave Blazer so—so easily. I have that cushion. It makes the hurt so much more bearable. Tell me one thing, though—am I being a bitch to take Scarlet O'Hara away from him? I don't want to be a bitch, but Scarlet O'Hara
is
mine—and I need some way to get home—”

Jimmy laughed softly. “I think you should keep Scarlet O'Hara,” he said. “You've earned her.”

“Oh, you're laughing at me!” She looked up at him. They stopped walking. “I'm so out of breath—so excited—” she said. “Tell me, how much will you have?”

“None,” he said, smiling down at her.

She looked at him, puzzled. “None?” she repeated.

“Next to none—compared with thirty thousand.”

“But what about—”

“My father's estate?”

“Yes.”

“It didn't quite work out that way—I'm afraid I'm pretty poor now. Compared with thirty thousand.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Now, why don't you go back to Blazer?” he said affectionately.

“Oh, no, no! No, he wants to stay in California—” she said absently. Then she said, “Well, it doesn't make any difference, does it? Whether you're poor or not? I still love you.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. I didn't mean to make it sound like it was the money, honestly I didn't. I just meant—well, I just thought that with what you had and what I had—but it doesn't make a particle of difference to me!” She gave him a brief, worried look, then looked away. “Does it?” she asked.

“Now I have to tell you another thing,” he said. “And I don't want you to be hurt, Claire, because—because I don't. I want to tell you that I'm not in love with you.”

“I see,” she said.

“Helen's come back, Claire. She's in the apartment right now. I'm very happy, Claire, and I want you to be happy, too, because you and I would always have been wrong for each other. We never would have been happy together—and we should both be happy to have found that out in time.”

She was silent. Then she said, “Let's walk back this way—just a little bit. Then I'll say good-bye.” They turned and started up the street again.

They walked in silence, then Claire said slowly, “It had to be you and Helen, didn't it? It always was, wasn't it? Even when you and I—”

“Yes,” he said, “it always was.”

“You affect me—” she said—“you affect me in the strangest way. I should say, ‘I've been a fool,' shouldn't I? But I don't feel that way. You said I should be happy. So I will be happy. I'll be happy that it's going to work out for you …”

“Thank you.”

“I fell in love with you. I shouldn't have. But I did. That day I went to see Helen the first time—it happened before then, I hoped that if I tried to help you two get back together again, perhaps it would help me, too, with Blazer. But it was no good. And I forced you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was all my fault. I wasn't innocent. I wanted it to happen—that night in the apartment. I wanted it to happen before that. That night on the mountain—that was when I decided I would make it happen. So don't blame yourself. It was my fault.”

He was silent. “Claire,” he said finally, “it was my fault, too.”

“It doesn't matter. But I can't go on living with Blazer, anyway. Oh, look—” She stopped suddenly and pointed into the low shrubbery along the sidewalk. “What's that? Oh, it's a camellia. Look at it—in the middle of winter. Crazy California! Crazy California flowers. Jimmy—pick it for me.”

He reached into the bush and snapped off the flower.

“
La Dame aux camélias!
” She laughed, taking it and putting it in the buttonhole of her fur coat. “What a crazy place. Everything happens backwards out here.” She began chattering gaily and artificially. She put her hand through his arm and they began walking again. “Blazer!” she said. “Dear Blazer! He wants to stay here. But you know I could never bear to stay. That's really why I left him. I couldn't bear the thought of living here another minute. You must stay here, though. Your place is here now, with Helen—”

She began to cry, and as she walked, she pulled softly on his arm and cried strange little sobs that made no noise. “Walk me a little farther—” she said.

“I'm sorry, Claire …”

“Hush,” she said, “don't say that. You must stay here. I can retreat—”

“Retreat?”

“Yes, go home. Retreat to the warm womb of love. I can retreat to money. I'm going to be very rich. Daddy's setting things up—oh, but I told you all of that …” Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the crying stopped. “I'll tell you one true thing,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Even if—even if Helen hadn't come back. Even if you had told me you loved me, Jimmy. If you had said you loved me, wanted me to stay—if you had told me you wanted me to stay out here and marry you, I'd still go back. I wouldn't stay here—even for you.”

“I'm glad you told me that,” he said.

“You and I are different after all,” she said.

They were. She had tried to fight a battle, but somehow she had lost it. And now she was trying to turn the defeat into a victory. She was ready now, ready to submit to whatever it was that came next, ready to stop fighting for anything. And yet, in a curious way, this submission was becoming her maturity. She was ready to go back to Mars Hill, to Junius Denison, to the Junior League, to the Smith Club, ready for all the things she had always shunned. She was ready to be rich, to follow the pattern of the rich. Perhaps she would take an apartment on Park Avenue, a
pied-à-terre
. Her Bohemian period was over, and her marriage, which had been an extension of her Bohemian period, really, was over. She was ready for New England again, for men in black ties and dinner jackets, smoked trout for breakfast, French toast, tea parties. She would never again eat spaghetti from a can.