Nora (10 page)

Patsy had a way of clearing the room, all right. Chuck got out of there, fast. Thanks, Patsy.

“Well.” Patsy crossed her arms on her chest and glared at me. “If it wasn't a tryst, what was it? It sure looked like a tryst to me.”

“I don't even know what a tryst is,” I said. “Where do you get these words anyway?”

“From one of those papers at the supermarket checkout,” Patsy said. “They're always talking ‘trysts,' so I figured it had something to do with sex. I looked it up. It means a secret meeting between lovers. So I thought Chuck Whipple might be putting the moves on you due to a tryst.”

“Oh, get real,” I said. What would she do if I told her I was thinking of putting the moves on Chuck Whipple?

Eighteen

On Tuesday Dee Dulin came to see Baba, carrying a bunch of daisies dotted with little blue flowers, as well as a packet of paper cocktail napkins that said, Age Is Only Important if You're a Cheese.

“My sentiments exactly,” Baba said. She made me stick one of the napkins on the refrigerator door with a magnet, where it could be seen and appreciated by all.

“You look marvelous,” Deé told Baba. “No need to ask how you're getting on.”

“Well, Sam and the girls are treating me like royalty,” Baba said. “I may stay here forever,” she joked.

Lots of people sent flowers. Baba got a card and bouquet of freesias and anenomes from The Tooth. The note read, “Best love and wishes for a speedy recovery.”

“She's moving in for the kill,” I heard Baba murmur. “It was sweet of her to send them. I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth, girls.”

“Not with those teeth,” Patsy said. Which wasn't at all kind but sent us into a fit of giggles.

The telephone rang as Patsy and I were getting Baba's supper ready. Roberta's mother had sent over some of her world-famous meat loaf and a mushroom casserole that looked like dog barf, which we were heating up for Baba. Daddy was working late.

“Hello there, Patsy!” The Tooth's voice rang out as I answered.

“I'm Nora,” I said.

“Oh, you two girls sound so much alike,” she said, as practically everyone did. “Is your father there?”

“No, he's working,” I said.

“Would you give him a message, please? Tell him I have to go to San Francisco unexpectedly tomorrow and then on to Hong Kong, so our trip will have to be postponed. Will you tell him that for me, please? He'll understand.”

“Sure,” I said, leaping for joy. Maybe this meant the romance was over.

“The Tooth called and said she had to go to Frisco and on to Hong Kong, so her and Daddy's trip will have to be postponed,” I told Baba, grinning. Patsy was busily autographing Baba's cast against Baba's wishes.

“Good Luck to You and the Boston Celtics,” Patsy wrote with a Magic Marker on Baba's cast.

“Now really, Patsy,” Baba said. “Such nonsense.” She had just lifted her fork, laden with Roberta's mother's meat loaf, to her mouth when the phone rang again.

“It's Roberta,” Patsy said. “Ten bucks says it's Roberta.”

“Hello,” I said.

It was Roberta. Lucky for me I'm not a betting woman.

“Is that meat loaf delicious or what?” Roberta said. “Want me to tell you what's in it?”

“No, let me guess,” I said.

“Oatmeal,” Roberta trumpeted. “And sauerkraut. You can't even tell it's sauerkraut, though.”

“I'm not telling Baba,” I said. “I'm letting her guess.”

“How about a game of strippola poker Saturday night?” Roberta said. “My parents are going to a black-tie affair. They'll be late.”

“Gosh, I don't think we can, Roberta,” I said. Patsy let her jaw drop, revealing a mouthful of Roberta's mother's mushroom casserole.

“Patsy and me might have a date,” I said ungrammatically.

A dense silence gripped Roberta's end of the line.

“You mean to tell me your father'd let you go out? With a boy? We're talking boy here, right?” Roberta spoke in a choked voice.

“Right,” I agreed.

The sound of something heavy falling hit against my ears.

“Roberta, you okay?” I said.

Roberta gurgled and hung up on me.

“This meat loaf is perfectly delicious,” Baba said. “I think it's got sauerkraut in it. Taste.”

“It's time you and me had a talk,” Patsy said as we cleaned up the supper dishes. “You're holding out on me, Nora. I feel it in my bones. I'm your sister, aren't I? Sisters don't have secrets from each other. It's against the laws of sisterhood.”

“Sure they do,” I said. “If we told each other everything, we'd hate each other. You'd beat up on me if I told you everything, and I might knock your retainer down your throat if you told me everything. There has to be something private in our lives.”

A sudden thought gripped me. “But there is something special, Patsy, something that happened to me Saturday night when you were in bed.”

“Chuck Whipple made a date with you,” Patsy said, eyes narrow and glittering. “He snuck back here to see me and you waylaid him and …”

“No. It's something much more important than that,” I said. I had made up my mind to tell her and Baba at the same time.

“I bet it's about Mother,” Patsy said.

“I'm not telling till Baba wakes up from her nap,” I said. “Then I'll tell you both.”

“Damn, damn, damn,” Patsy cried. “I know you saw her!”

Patsy's face got beet red and she stamped her foot.

“Grow up!” I said. “Just get a grip and stop acting like a spoiled brat. This is grownup stuff we're talking here. I don't want any more nonsense from you! This is serious. If you can't act responsible and get your head together, forget it. I'll deal with it myself!”

Patsy's open mouth snapped shut. She shuddered and said meekly, “You're right, Nora. I'm sorry. I'll be good,” as if she was a small child again.

I had not expected Patsy to behave in this fashion. I was in shock. I was also, I realized with a pang, in control.

Nineteen

One thing about Baba, she's a good listener. She never interrupted once. Patsy did, a few times. Finally, after the third time, I just stopped talking and she got the idea and shut up. I told them everything, about me sitting in the dark, hearing the couch cushions sigh and having my hand taken and feeling a terrible cold creep up my arm. Even as I said these things, I thought, This is truly bizarre. They won't believe me.

“She was there,” I said. “I know she was.”

“How long ago, Nora?” Patsy wanted to know.

“The night I woke you up and asked you what the other reason was that Daddy wanted to marry The Tooth,” I said.

“You dog,” Patsy said. “I wish you'd told me right then. You should've told me. If it'd been me, I would've told you.”

Baba only nodded now and then and made little clicking sounds a few times, but she didn't say a word.

She never once said, “Oh, you must have imagined it, Nora.” Never once. She only said when I'd finished, “Oh, how I wish I'd been there. How wonderful for you, Nora. Poor old Sam. I wish he'd been able to recognize that your mother had come back. It might make him feel better. He's on the horns of a dilemma. He knows you dislike Mrs. Ames and he wouldn't make you unhappy for anything in the world, but it
is
his life. Why not let him marry and be happy? Happi
er
, I should say. She's not a monster, is she? Your mother would want him to be happy. We know that much. So why not let him get on with his life? You two are getting older by the minute. Before you know it, you'll be off and running in the world. I'm not crazy about her either, but I say let Sam marry her and we'll make the best of it.”

“That's easy for you to say,” Patsy told Baba indignantly. “You don't live in this house and we do. I don't care if Daddy gets married, I only want him to marry someone nice, someone we like. Someone who likes us.”

“Look at it this way,” Baba said. “Imagine one of you bringing home a young man and telling your father this is the person you wanted to marry. And your father saying, ‘I don't care if you fall in love, I only want you to fall in love with someone I approve of and like, and I don't fancy this person of yours.'”

Patsy looked shocked. “Oh, Daddy would never do that,” she said.

“What makes you so sure?” Baba said. “What would be so different from him saying that and what you two are saying right now?”

Baba had a point. I was willing to recognize that, even though I didn't much like it.

“But we are only children,” Patsy said. “We don't know stuff about getting married to the right person and so on.” I knew that when Patsy fell into her “we are only children” routine, it meant she felt cornered and wanted to change the subject. If anyone else called us children, Patsy would most likely blow them away.

“Since when are people of twelve and thirteen children?” Baba said crossly. “Thirteen is halfway to twenty-six. You consider yourselves grown-up—until you're expected to act like grown-ups, and then you turn and run.” Baba shook her head. “It won't wash, kidlets,” she said.

“I don't know about you guys,” I said, “but I'm going to go sit in the living room and think awhile, see what happens.”

After a brief conference, Baba and Patsy joined me. We gave Baba Daddy's big chair on account of her broken wrist and also because she was the oldest. The three of us sat there in the dark.

“If I brought somebody like Casey Fullum home to meet Daddy,” Patsy said, out of the blue, “well, I can see how Daddy might freak out.” Casey Fullum had greasy black hair slanted over his forehead and completely covering one eye, and a horrendous complexion. He wore black denim from head to toe and scruffy pointy-toed boots and smoked pot for breakfast. He was fifteen and still in the eighth grade.

Patsy and I got to giggling, thinking of various people we'd bring home to Daddy that would blow his mind.

“Please, girls,” Baba said. “Quiet. Concentrate. We are thinking of your mother.” Baba's voice came slow and dreamy in the dark. “We are sending her loving thoughts, telling her we miss her and hope she is at peace. Concentrate on that.”

“This is sort of like a seance,” Patsy said.

“Patsy, I beg you, quiet,” Baba said.

We all fell silent, thinking our own thoughts. Instead of thinking of Mother, I'm ashamed to say, I thought of bringing Chuck Whipple home to meet Daddy. He would be very polite and respectful. He would shake Daddy's hand and maybe even call him “sir.” Although maybe they don't call people “sir” in Iowa. They sure don't in Connecticut. Chuck would most likely blush, but otherwise he'd be cool. And Daddy would like him as much as I did.

Presently, we heard the garage door opening. It was Daddy. We stayed where we were.

“Anybody home?” Daddy called.

“We're in here, Sam,” Baba said.

“Well.” Daddy stood in the doorway and looked in at us sitting there in the dark.

“I thought I paid the electric bill, but I can see I was mistaken,” he said. “What gives?”

“We just like sitting in the dark,” I said.

“Sam, sit down, relax for a minute,” Baba said. “You must be tired after your long day.”

“I am, somewhat,” Daddy said.

Baba reached over and turned on the light. Patsy and I blinked.

“Sam,” Baba said, “Nora has something to tell you. I wish you'd listen and keep an open mind.”

“Mrs. Ames called and said she has to go to San Francisco tomorrow and then to Hong Kong, so your trip will have to be postponed,” I said, trying not to smile.

Daddy scowled and said, “Is she calling back?”

“No,” I said. “I don't think so.”

The telephone rang.

“I'll get it in the kitchen,” Daddy said. “Maybe that's Wynne.”

“It's either Roberta or The Tooth,” I said. And either way, I thought, it's bound to be bad news.

Twenty

Instead, it turned out to be Dee Dulin. She was bringing Mother's portrait back on Friday, if that suited us. Her show was over and the gallery wanted everything out by the weekend.

“I asked her to stay for dinner,” Daddy said. “Maybe you could call Glorious Grub and order one of their casseroles, Baba. That chicken thing is pretty good, as I recall. Now Nora, was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

I decided not to tell Daddy about seeing Mother's ghost. And hoped Patsy or Baba wouldn't tell him. For now, anyway. He wasn't in the right frame of mind.

Maybe he never would be.

“Mrs. Ames called and said she had to go to San Francisco,” I said.

He nodded. “You told me. And then she's going on to Hong Kong. So our trip will have to be postponed. Does that make you happy?”

I was so surprised at his question, I blurted, “Did you ask her to marry you yet?”

“That's hardly an answer to my question, Nora,” Daddy said. “But no, I haven't asked her yet. If I wait too long, she may think it's because I don't want her to be my wife because my daughters are opposed to the idea. It is very hard to please all of you. If not impossible. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going out to get myself a glass of milk.”

I almost never fight with my father. We usually get along very well. Patsy and he sometimes fight, mainly because she's so fresh and thinks she should be allowed to do things that older kids can do, like go to the concert over in Stamford with Chuck Whipple, which she wasn't allowed to do.

He'd asked her before he met me. That was the first time I'd thought that. It made me smile.

I followed Daddy out to the kitchen. I wanted to be friends with him. We had always loved and respected each other. I didn't want that to change, and it seemed to me there was a good chance it would if he got married.