Maine: A Novel Part 13

Though Maggie knew it was childish, she felt slightly betrayed. aBut even if it is,a she said to her grandmother, adonat you ever just want to get it out there?a Aliceas eyes widened. She looked at Rhiannon. aI hardly think thatas appropriate dinner table conversation,a said the woman who had probably imbibed a bottle and a half of wine over dinner, and brought up the cheap Mexican handyman and Kathleenas postdivorce weight gain in the first ten minutes.

aAre you gals about full?a Alice said. aBecause Iam tuckered out.a It was exactly the way she had shut down the previous summer when Gabe was there. Maybe there would always be this wall with Alice, no matter how badly Maggie wished things might change, no matter how many times she forgot for a moment that their family wasnat what she wanted it to be.

Rhiannon stood and began piling the dishes.

aIall get those later,a Alice said.

aItas the least I can do,a Rhiannon said. She stacked the plates and side platters into one neat load.

Alice and Maggie followed her silently into the kitchen.

The wax-paper bag of corn m.u.f.fins Alice had bought for Gabe sat on the counter. Maggie missed him for an instant, a sharp pain in her chest.

aShould I take these?a she asked.

aNo, donat bother. Leave them,a Alice said. aTheyall go stale, but maybe I wonat notice if I toast them.a They were full from dinner and it had started to spit rain, so Maggie and Rhiannon decided not to walk on the beach after all. Still, Maggie didnat want her to go. She was thinking in a panicked way about her grandmother and her mother. They were both selfish and stubborn, but as parents they had each been tempered by a good, kind mana"Daniel, in both cases. She herself would have no such balance if she brought a child into the world. Not unless Gabe came back.

aWhy donat you come to the cottage for a cup of tea before you get on the road?a she said. Maybe simply having another body in the room would calm her down.

aThat sounds good,a Rhiannon said. aI think your grandmother got me a bit smashed.a She shook her head. aThatas a sentence Iave never said before.a They stood at the kitchen window. Maggie could see Alice across the way on her porch, talking on the phone. Who was she talking to? Probably Ann Marie.

aMaybe I shouldnat have come,a Maggie said. aItas going to be so lonely after youare gone. And my grandmothera"Iam not sure I can take her.a aSheas not that bad,a Rhiannon said.

aMaybe I should call Gabe.a aDo you really think thatas a good idea?a Rhiannon asked.

aNo. Yes? I donat know. I canat believe I havenat heard from him.a aIf I tell you something, do you promise to take it in the spirit in which itas intended?a Rhiannon asked.

aSure,a Maggie said.

aRemember when you and Gabe came to my restaurant for dinner?a Maggie nodded, feeling her heart sink.

aWell, when you were in the bathroom, he put his hand on my a.s.s. I think he tried to kiss me. I donat know. He was drunk. I wasnat going to say anything, buta"well, I see you holding out hope and it scares me, Maggie. Heas not a good guy. And youare wonderful.a With that, finally, she knew for sure what she had been trying not to know for days: it was only her in this; he wasnat going to be there to raise a child.

Maggie felt foolish about how much time she had spent with Rhiannon, talking about Gabe, without knowing that the two of them shared a secret of their own. Naturally Gabe wanted Rhiannona"what guy wouldnat? Her body tensed up. She wished she had never introduced them.

aIam going to bed,a Maggie said. aYou probably shouldnat drive. You can sleep in the big room. Okay?a Rhiannon seemed taken aback by her abruptness, but she just said, aYeah, okay. Iall leave first thing in the morning.a Maggie turned toward the bathroom to wash her face.

aIam sorry,a Rhiannon said. aMaybe I should have kept my mouth shut.a aMaybe,a Maggie said. She closed the door behind her, feeling guilty. She was never mean like that, not to anyone, let alone a friend. She started to cry.

Maggie couldnat sleep. After she heard Rhiannon go to bed, she paced the living room, paying attention to each creak of the floorboards as she stared at her cell phone screen and searched for a signal.

Finally, in the corner by the kitchen, she got two bars. She dialed the number, her heart racing as she listened to the phone ring. For a second, she thought he was going to let it go to voice mail, but then he picked up.

She heard people laughing in the background, the sound of womenas voices.

aMags?a Gabe said. ah.e.l.lo?a It was so bitter and sad, looking for safety in the person least likely to give it to you. Like drinking salt water, she thought. The house felt eerily quiet.

aHi,a she said.

aHold on, I canat hear youa"let me go outside for a sec,a he said, and then there was a lot of m.u.f.fling and yelling and laughing before the noise faded.

aHow are you?a he asked. His voice was faint; she could hardly make it out. She crouched down lower, searching for a signal.

aFine,a she said. aListen. Thereas something I have to tell you.a ah.e.l.lo? Are you calling from your apartment? Youare all fuzzy.a aNo. Iam up in Maine.a She tried to sound unafraid, wanting him to be shocked by her, maybe.

aWhat?a he said. aI canat really hear you.a aIam in Maine.a aOh yeah? By yourself?a he asked.

aNo,a she said. She didnat think she could mention Rhiannonas name without crying again. aMy brother and some friends are driving up now.a aOh hey, fun,a he said. aTell Chris I say hi.a aHowas New York?a she asked. And thena"as furious as she felt, she couldnat help ita"aI miss you.a aIam in East Hampton, actually,a he said. aMissing you too.a Her stomach flipped, and suddenly her sadness turned to anger, the two feelings so much aligned when it came to him.

aWhy?a she said.

aWhy do I miss you?a he said.

aWhy are you in the Hamptons?a aSome girl Hayes knows from college, her parents have this sweet beach place and he was going anyway with a bunch of people, and I donat have any work for the next two weeks, because, well, you know, so I figured Iad hang here.a All that she had imagined fell away, set against those words. He was not curled up on his couch, waiting for her to come home. Had she stayed in Brooklyn, waiting around, he wouldnat have shown up at her door tomorrow or the next day or the next.

aItas gorgeous here,a he said. aWeare actually about to take a nighttime sail.a He sounded like he was having the time of his life.

aWhat did you need to tell me?a Gabe asked.

aForget it,a Maggie said. aI should go; I think I hear Chrisas car outside.a aOkay,a he said. aListen, Iam sorry for how things went the other day. But it seems like cooling off for a while is probably smart, right?a aGood-bye, Gabe,a she said.

She hung up, feeling wholly unsatisfied. She resisted the urge to call him back. Instead, she sat down at the table and switched on her computer. Her uncle Pat had had the cottage wired for Internet the previous summer, even though there was still no TV or phone.

She started typing an e-mail, and when she finished she didnat even bother to read it over. She just hit SEND.

Gabe, There are two things I want to say that for some reason I could not get out over the phone just now. First, that I think Iave finally realized how bad you are for me. Iam grateful to you for really hitting me over the head with it this time. Clearly I needed that. Second (and I admit this bit of news is complicated by my first point), I am having a baby. Mostly when I imagine it, this child is only mine. But I know that technically he or she is yours too. You deserve to know, so Iam telling you. I donat think you deserve much more than that. Please leave me alone for now. Iall be in touch when Iam ready.

Alice.

After dinner, Alice went out to the screen porch and called Ann Marie.

aYour niece arrived today, and not with Gabe,a she said.

aOh?a Ann Marie said, sounding distracted, not seeming to care.

aInstead she brought a woman,a Alice said.

aWhat do you mean, a woman?a Ann Marie asked.

aA woman who lives next door to her,a Alice whispered, as if Daniel were sitting there and liable to scold her for gossiping with their bigmouthed daughter-in-law.

aYou mean, like a date?a Ann Marie said. aHold on, Mom. Pat, honey, canat you watch this in the other room?a It hadnat even dawned on Alice that Maggie and Whatever-Her-Name-Was might be together in that way. No, she was positive they werenat. Then again, Alice had always been clueless about such things. She had once remarked to Daniel that it was nice how many pairs of brothers you saw walking around Ogunquit, arm in arm, and he had laughed like a hyena.

Now she replied, aIam not sure what sort of relationship it is, to be honest. Just strange, that much I know. Maggie has the girl drive her here and tells me sheas leaving tonight. Well, I can see quite clearly that she hasnat left. Iam not blind.a aThatas odd.a aKathleen made such a mess of that child. I wish there was something I could have done to fix her. Now itas probably too late.a She was fuming from their dinner conversation, but she didnat feel like getting into the specifics with Ann Marie.

aYouare always taking too much upon yourself,a Ann Marie said. aThereas nothing you can do. Lately Iam starting to think that children just become who they become.a aWell, I thank G.o.d every day that your three turned out the way they did,a Alice said.

aOur three have their moments,a Ann Marie said.

It was precisely this sort of comment that made her so dear, because really her children were angels. They had probably turned out so well because of Ann Marieas refusal to make excuses for bad behavior, as Aliceas own two daughters were p.r.o.ne to doing for their kids. Alice had sent Christopher and Maggie a twenty-dollar check on every one of their birthdays since they were babies, and had either of them ever bothered to write a thank-you note?

Little Daniel always mailed a card on Aliceas birthday and even sent her flowers on Motheras Day. He was a handsome devil, a darling boy. He was quick as a whip, like his father, and engaged to a sweet young beauty, a Catholic, thank G.o.d. She was Italian, not Irish, but what could you do?

Patrick and Ann Marieas daughter Fiona was a saint. Alice often thought that if Fiona had been around in her day, she would have been one of the girls who chose to become a nun. Perhaps she still would. As a child, Alice had loathed the nuns. They rapped her knuckles, and made her write with her right hand, her left hand tied to the back of her chair, though it was perfectly clear she was a lefty.

Even so, to have a granddaughter in the sisterhood would be a real point of pride at Legion of Mary meetings. Mary Daleyas son was only a deacon and she got so much attention for it, youad think he was the pope.

Patty, Ann Marie and Patrickas middle child, had gone to law school and was now working long hours, despite the fact that she had three small children. She had married a Jew, which had just about killed Ann Marie. She never said so, but Alice could feel it.

Still, Ann Marie and Patas three kids would always be her favorites, especially Little Daniel.

She found Maggie to be the most difficult of all the grandchildren. When the girl let her guard down and had a few drinks, she could really be a hoot. She had a good sense of humor, like Danielas. But there was a sort of forced quality about her most of the time, a formality that rubbed Alice the wrong way. Maggie was obsessed with getting to the bottom of every conflict, thanks most likely to the fact that Kathleen had shoved her onto a therapistas couch as soon as she was in middle school. After Daniel died, when Alice didnat want to think of him or Kathleen at all, there was Maggie, calling her every other day like clockwork. Alice tried to ask G.o.d for patience, to tell herself that her granddaughter meant well, but she felt annoyed even so.

Daniel had loved the stuffing out of that child, same as he had with Kathleen.

Once, when Maggie was six or seven, Alice had gotten up for a gla.s.s of water and found her crying in the cottage kitchen in the middle of the night.

aWhat happened?a Alice asked.

aI heard a scary noise,a Maggie said. aIt woke me up.a aDid you tell your parents?a Alice looked in vain toward their bedroom.

aTheyare asleep,a Maggie said. She kept right on crying.

aDid you think it was a ghost?a Alice asked. She meant it as a joke, but Maggieas face turned deadly serious.

aOh, Grandma, I wish I could see a ghost,a she said. aThen death wouldnat be so scary. Seeing a ghost would mean we get to keep on living. Well, sort of. Right?a Alice was startled. What kind of child said a thing like that?

aGet back to sleep now,a she said sternly. aYouare fine. You only heard the wind off the dunes.a When she got into bed beside Daniel a few moments later, having forgotten all about her gla.s.s of water, Alice felt so rattled she had to shake him awake to tell him the story.

Daniel just chuckled groggily. aWhat a clever munchkin that one is,a he said, before immediately falling back to sleep.

After she hung up the phone, Alice walked to the kitchen. She poured herself a gla.s.s of wine, and then she set to washing the dishes.

Maybe she ought to be kinder to Maggie. After all, she was going through a breakup. She seemed a bit out of sorts. But why the h.e.l.l did she have to bring that friend here with no notice at all? Why had she said those things about Daniel right in front of that Scottish girl?

Alice saw her grandchildren as extensions of their parents, so that Ryanas ambition and disappointment had her praying for Clare, and Chrisas roughness made her light candles for Kathleen. But she also blamed her daughters for how their children had turned out. How could she not? Kathleen had no sense of propriety whatsoever, and so her child saw nothing wrong with coming to Aliceas dinner table and asking her about her lifeas most devastating moments.

Maggie had said that Daniel would want to see her painting again. That alone made Alice want to slap her across the face. What did she know about any of that? Daniel was a wonderful man, and she had loved him dearly. But he had never been interested in seeing her become anything besides another mother, another proper housewife. He had insisted that she stop drinking because of it; he had consulted their daughter about his cancer treatment rather than worry Aliceas pretty little head.

Donat you think it could be good for us to talk about him? her granddaughter had asked preposterously, and in front of a complete stranger. Alice a.s.sumed she wanted to know only for the sake of that G.o.dd.a.m.n book she was writing. She wasnat about to bare her soul to fulfill Maggieas literary aspirations. The story of how she met Daniel, of how she lost her sister, would remain hers alone. It wasnat anyone elseas business. But now Maggie had her thinking about all of it, and she hated to think about it.

Alice walked back out to the porch for a cigarette. In the distance, the waves were crashing against the rocks. This had been Danielas favorite time of night, sitting out here with a cup of peppermint tea, listening to the surf before bed. She missed hima"there was a pit in her stomach where he had once resided.

A short while later, she went to the bathroom and switched on the radio to have a bit of noise. She changed into a cotton nightgown and removed her teeth, brushing them gently before she placed them in a gla.s.s of cold water on the edge of the sink. The dentures were a new acquisition this year. She was happy at least that Daniel hadnat lived long enough to see them.

Alice pulled back her hair and washed her face with cold cream. Her skin had gotten so terribly dry as she aged. It was as thin as tissue paper now, and could tear from the slightest b.u.mp. She dipped her fingers into a tub of Eucerin, as she did each night, rubbing the jelly into her cracked legs and pulling a pair of stretchy black pants over the top to seal in the moisture. Tomorrow she was having lunch with Father Donnelly. Maybe that would cheer her up.

She shut off the radio and got into her bed, which was far too big for only her. The memories plunged forth and she had to leave the light on, as if she were her own timid child.

The Holy Crossa"Boston College football game at Fenway Park fell on November 28, 1942, two days after Thanksgiving. Aliceas brothers Timmy and Paul and so many of their friends were home on leave for two weeks, and they were giddy, running around town in their uniforms, making the girls swoon. Her other brothers hadnat come home: Jack was on the USS Augusta, somewhere off the coast of North Africa. Michael, only fifteen, was fighting in the Pacific. He was technically too young, but he had snuck into the military, afraid to miss out on the excitement.

With two of the four boys home and their mother a nervous wreck, convinced that all of them might be dead by Christmas, that Thanksgiving was a feast unlike any they had ever hada"their mother cooked a turkey and gravy, b.u.t.tery mashed potatoes and au gratins, too, and Mary baked apple pie and peach cobbler. By the time Sat.u.r.day came, they were still stuffed.

The boys all hoped to go to Boston College once the war was over. They had been rooting for the Eagles since they were kids. This year, BC was undefeated, and winning this game would mean a trip to the Sugar Bowl. But in an upset that sent her brothers into a tizzy (no doubt theyad lost plenty gambling on the game), Holy Cross won, fifty-five to twelve.

Alice didnat give a fig about any of this; she hadnat even gone to the game with the boys. But she had been preparing to meet Daniel Kelleher at the Cocoanut Grove later that night since right after breakfast. Mary wasnat coming. She was supposed to, but at the last minute her Henry got tickets for a show at the Shubert, and she pulled out.

aYouare making me go alone?a Alice had moaned that morning in the bathroom as they washed their faces.

aYou wonat be alone, youall have the boys there.a aMary, youad better come meet us after the show.a aWeall see what Henry wants.a aWhat Henry wants! Always what Henry wants!a Alice walked into the hallway and slammed the door.

aOh, honestly!a came Maryas voice from the other side.

She left the house a short while later. aGood luck tonight,a she said, pinching Aliceas cheek.

Alice spent the afternoon primping on her own, which was nowhere near as fun as doing it with someone else. But by the time she was ready, she felt like a million bucks. The silver silk dress she had picked out fell perfectly over her hips, pooling on the floor and covering the scuffed toes of her shoes. The dress belonged to Mary and was too big for Alice on its owna"she had tied a blue ribbon tightly around her waist to give it some shape. She was wearing Maryas favorite gray suede gloves, lined with mink, and her mink coat too. The coat had been a present from Henry, but Mary hardly ever put it on. Finders keepers, Alice thought. It was wintertime. Someone ought to be getting some wear out of it.

She herself didnat have a single dress nice enough to wear to the Cocoanut Grove. Everyone would be in formal evening attire, and she wasnat about to try to dress up a convertible suit with pearls, as her mother had suggested. But her brothers had invited her to come. A shipmate of Timas had an older brother named Daniel whoad gone to Holy Cross and was now home on leave from the Pacific for a week. Timmy had gotten it into his head that this older brother ought to marry one of his sisters.

For months he had been writing Alice about how wonderful Daniel was, even though he wasnat a Boston College grad. He was sweet and funny and smart as heck, Timmy said. He had been born smack in the middle of ten kids and had the patience of a saint. (Perfect for a pain in the neck like you, ha-ha! he had written.) Alice wrote back: If you like the man so much, why donat you marry him?

Ha. Ha, Timmy responded. Just come out with us to the BC game at the end of the month, and afterward weall go somewhere special for dancing.

Having no intention of meeting a date in the freezing cold and wind of a football game, she had arranged to get together with the boys afterward at the Cocoanut Grove. Really, she had agreed to the setup only because she wanted an excuse to go.

Alice had been there twice before, once to see Joe Frisco perform, and the other time, Helen Morgan. She loved the placea"the long oval bar beside the stage, the wide dance floor surrounded by tables covered in white linen cloths. The room was lined with palm trees and dripping with lights. In summertime, the roof could be rolled back for dancing under the stars.

She arrived at seven thirty, right on time, gliding through the revolving door, feeling like a movie star. She wore a bright red lipstick that her aunt Rose had sent from New York the previous Christmas. She had styled her hair in a soft wave, like Veronica Lake in Sullivanas Travels.

Inside the club, hundreds of people stood shoulder to shoulder: handsome men in uniform by the dozens, glamorous women in their finest gowns. Every corner was full, every table taken up. Alice scanned the room for her brothers, pushing through the crowd. She looked out over the packed dance floor, but she didnat see them anywhere. She lingered over small talk with the redheaded coat-check girl for far too long, just to have something to do: Yes, it was a chilly one out there. Pity about Boston College, and did Alice know that the entire team was meant to be there tonight for their victory party, but had canceled, and it was a shame, really, because the redhead had been pining after the BC fullback for positively ages.

When she went back toward the dance floor, the boys still hadnat arrived. And so she stood alone by the bar, feeling like an absolute fool and vowing to murder her brothers as soon as they showed their faces. She held Maryas gloves in one hand, swinging them back and forth a few times, before realizing that she looked like a nervous Nellie. She set them down on the oak bar, running her fingers over the suede, counting the minutes.

It was ten to eight when they finally rolled in, drunk as skunks and towed by a couple of strangers. Aliceas brothers were big, dark, strapping men. The pair behind them looked like scarecrows in comparisona"rather short and spindly, with hair the color of red-tinged straw. They barely filled out their uniforms.

aThere she is!a her brother Paul hollered, far too loud. Even in the din, a few people turned to stare.

aYouare late,a she hissed, when the boys got close enough. aIave been waiting here forever.a aOh, now, donat be dramatic,a Paul said. aWeare only a few minutes behind schedule, and believe me, you wouldnat have wanted to see us before we had a drink. Tim was in tears!a He laughed raucously, and the other boys joined him.

It hit her then, as it sometimes did, that her brothers had already been to war and would soon have to return, like so many other young men in the room. There was news all the time of boys you had grown up with, dead and gone. Yet they still got upset over football games, and dressed up to go dancing. Life didnat stop for anything.

One of the scarecrows extended a hand. aDaniel Kelleher,a he said. aPleased to make your acquaintance.a Is he handsome? she had asked her brother Timmy at Thanksgiving dinner, and he had scoffed before saying, He looks like Clark Gable, okay?

She realized now that her brother had been joking.