Artrus. Everything all right with you and Robert?" she
finally asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I know that boy dotes on you, Laura. That's
why the other girls were making all that hissing about
you and him and Cary. They're jealous. Good," she
said. "I like to see them eat their hearts out," she
added, glaring at the girls across the room, the ones
who would never be seen sitting beside a Brava. She turned back to me.
"You make that boy happy, Laura, he'll make
you happy. Know what I mean?" she said, winking. I shook my head.
"If you're a good lover, your lover is good to
you," she said and laughed. "Never mind. I don't want
to pry. But I warn you," she sang, "you turn your back
on him once, and Robert Royce is going to be
snatched away."
Was she right? I wondered. Was Robert losing
patience with me? Would he turn away? And would I regret it, forever? If only these answers were as easy as the answers that came to me on my final exams, I thought, life would be so simple.
7
A Woman's Heart
.
Once, when I was much younger, I looked up
"What's wrong, Mommy?" I asked because she had the strangest, soft smile on her face. She looked like a little girl, amazed at some wonder of nature.
"Oh, nothing, dear," she said. "I was just thinking how much you remind me of Belinda sometimes."
Then, as if she realized she had said something blasphemous, she bit down on her lower lip and shook her head vigorously.
"Don't ever tell anyone I said that, especially your Grandma Olivia, Laura. I shouldn't have said that. You don't really look like Belinda. Not at all," she emphasized and went back to her needlework.
Although I never mentioned it to anyone, not even Cary, I never forgot Mommy had said it, and whenever I had any opportunity to look at a picture of Aunt Belinda, I searched her face for similarities.
Then, one day, on a whim, I asked Cary to take me to the rest home. He refused at first. For us it was as off limits as a local bar. It was pretty much understood that Aunt Belinda was an embarrassment to our family and she was so mentally confused, it would be a waste of time to speak to her. If I asked about her, Daddy would say, "It's not your affair. Forget about her." Nevertheless, probably because of the remark Mommy had let slip from her lips and the curiosity it had stirred in me, I wanted to meet Aunt Belinda.
Finally, Cary agreed to drive me there one day, but he refused to follow me inside.
"I'll wait out here for you," he said. "Don't be more than a half hour."
That was my first visit. It was our secret for a long time. He drove me there one other time, but that was months ago. Neither of us spoke much about Aunt Belinda. Cary didn't ask any questions about my visits. It was as if he thought it was so forbidden a subject, even to show curiosity was a sin. He would rather act as if it never happened.
Occasionally, because it had been done so many times before in conversation, he would make a remark like, "That's something only crazy Aunt Belinda would do or say." She was truly a skeleton dangling in our family closet.
The day of my conversation with Theresa in the cafeteria, I asked Cary to drive me to the rest home.
"What? Why? You haven't been there for months," he said.
"I know. I feel sorry for her, Cary, but I want to talk to her about other things."
"What other things?"
"Things," I said. "If you won't do it, I'll have to ask Robert," I said. That was enough to cause him to make a decision quickly.
"I'll do it, but I won't go in with you."
"I know. I'd rather that you didn't anyway," I said.
He looked at me with a face full of curiosity, but he just shook his head.
"You've been acting really strange these past few days, Laura. Sometimes keeping a secret buried so long can make it fester like a sore," he warned.
"I'll be all right, Cary. Just do me this favor. Please."
It was almost impossible for Cary to refuse me anything if I asked him strongly enough.
"As soon as we get May home, we'll go up, but it can't be for long, Laura. You know we can't let Daddy know."
"I know. I think that's wrong. She's really a very lonely, sweet old lady and no threat to anyone," I said.
He didn't reply. We picked up May from school and walked home quickly. Then he and I got into the truck and drove to the rest home.
We rode for nearly a half hour before Cary turned up a side road heavy with pine, wild apple, and scrub oak. It seemed fitting that our aunt who was kept a secret and whose past was to be forgotten had been put in such an isolated place.
The rest home had a pretty setting. The ocean was directly behind it and the grounds in front of the building consisted of a long, rolling lawn with benches, a rock garden, and some fountains.
The Wedgwood-blue home was a three-story building with a front porch the width of the building. Behind the building there was an elaborate garden, more benches and fountains, and a gazebo twice the size of Grandma Olivia's. There were some full red maple trees, more scrub oak and pine, and the pathways were lined with trimmed bushes. I had spent my second visit with Aunt Belinda out among the gardens.
After he shut off the engine, Cary turned to me.
"Remember. Not more than thirty minutes," he ordered, tapping his watch. "We want to get back before Daddy gets home and starts asking questions."
"Okay, okay."
I got out and walked the flagstone walkway to the short row of steps. I glanced back at Cary, who stared at me with a face the picture of worry. He looked about as if he were afraid to be caught here, as if he were the driver for a gang of bank robbers.
I entered the building. The lobby had light blue curtains, a blonde oak slat wood floor with dark blue oval area rugs. There were large paintings of country scenes and ocean scenes, some with fishermen, some simply with sailboats. The cushioned chairs and settees were all done in a light blue floral pattern. There were small wooden tables, book and magazine racks, and several rocking chairs were lined up in front of the large, brick fireplace.
There were only a few residents seated, a pair of elderly gentlemen playing checkers, with the rest just reading or talking softly. I didn't see Aunt Belinda.
The receptionist turned from a nurse and hurried toward me.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to see my aunt, Belinda Gordon. I've been here before," I said. "My name's Laura Logan."
"Oh, yes." She turned to the nurse. "Do you know where Belinda Gordon is at the moment, Jenny?"
"She's in her room. I brought her there about ten minutes ago."
"Is she all right?" I asked quickly.
"She was tired. She spent almost the whole day outside," the nurse said. "Come on. I'll take you to see her," she offered with a smile.
I followed her down the corridor through another door to Aunt Belinda's room.
She was sitting in her chair, her eyes closed. The moment after we appeared in her doorway, her eyes snapped open and she blinked rapidly.
"There's someone here to see you, Belinda," the nurse said. I stepped into the room.
"Hello, Aunt Belinda. It's Laura. Jacob and Sara's daughter," I added when her face registered no recognition.
She smiled.
"Oh, yes. Laura."
I pulled the chair near the window closer to her and sat. "How are you feeling?"
Aunt Belinda was no taller than Grandma Olivia. If anything, she was an inch or so shorter. They both had small features, but I thought Aunt Belinda was prettier. She had sapphire-blue eyes, which even here were brighter, happier. Her smile was softer. There was a childlike innocence to her, despite the tales of promiscuity and the notoriety of her youth.
"I'm a little tired today. How is your family?" she asked.
"Everyone's fine, Aunt Belinda."
"You're Jacob's daughter?"
"Yes," I said, smiling. Just as before, she had trouble remembering the details.
"Jacob has how many children?"
"Three, Aunt Belinda. I have a twin brother, Cary, and a younger sister, May, remember? Don't you remember me coming to see you before?"
"Oh, yes," she said. She stared a moment and then leaned forward. "Have you seen Haille, then?" she asked in a whisper, her eyes on the doorway.
"No, Aunt Belinda. I have never met Haille."
"Oh. Well . . isn't it a nice day?" she said, gazing out the window.
"I came to see you, Aunt Belinda, because last time you were telling me about the first time you fell in love, really in love. Remember?"
"Oh? Oh, yes," she said with a smile. "I remember." Her face grew darker. "It was a forbidden love, a love to be kept in the shadows, full of whispers and stolen kisses. When we saw each other in public, we couldn't show our feelings. Then I lost him," she added sadly. "I lost him forever and ever."
"But how did you know it was love, Aunt Belinda?"
"Oh, it was love all right. Why? Did Olivia say something again? She's always telling on me, running to Daddy and whining that Belinda did this and Belinda did that. Well, she's not so lily-pure."
She pouted.
"No, Grandma Olivia didn't say anything, Aunt Belinda. I just wanted to hear about love. Somehow, for some reason, I think you know more about it than anyone else in my family," I added, more to myself than to her, but she perked up.
"I do." She leaned forward and took my hand. "I've been in love many times."
"Many times? But I thought there was only one great love of your life. That's what you told me the last time," I said, not hiding my disappointment.
"There was, but I lost him and then forever after I was always looking for him," she explained.
"Always looking for him? I don't understand, Aunt Belinda. Where did you look?"
She laughed.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her eyes grew small, suspicious. "Did Olivia send you here to find out?"
"Oh no, Aunt Belinda. She has no idea I'm here." She stared, skeptical, and then nodded softly.
"Every time I fall in love with someone, Olivia falls in love with him, too. She always says she was first, that he liked her first and I stole him away by being promiscuous. Well, no one likes her because she's a cold fish. She won't even hold hands in public! You can run back and tell her I said that, if you want."
"I won't tell her anything you say to me, Aunt Belinda," I assured her.
"If you love someone," she continued, "you're not afraid to touch him or have him touch you. Olivia says that's ridiculous. She says it's not necessary to touch all the time and she hates kissing. Oh, she'll deny that; she'll say she kisses in private, but
she
doesn't. I know. Young men have told me. She turns away all the time." She laughed and then leaned forward again. "You know what I heard Samuel told someone? He told them she won't make love with the lights on and never with the covers off. Like she has something someone is dying to see."
She paused and looked at me closely again.
"What did you say your name was, dear?"
"I'm Laura, Aunt Belinda. Sara and Jacob's daughter Laura. How can you be in love so many times, Aunt Belinda? Isn't love something special?"
"It always was, every time," she replied. She pulled in the corners of her mouth and nodded. "You just make sure they respect you and treat you like a lady. Don't let him know you love him right away. Let him twist and torment himself and then," she said with a wide smile, "when you finally say yes, he will think you have given him the world.
"I was in love once," she added wistfully. "A long time ago, a sweet boy, handsome. He thought the sun rose and set on my moods. 'When you're sad,' he said, 'you bring the rain clouds. But when you smile, the sun is bright and strong.'
"Wasn't that sweet? It's poetry. He wrote poetry. Olivia found the poems and tore them up. She said if I complained, she would show them to Daddy and he would see what I was up to.
"I wasn't up to anything. I just . . . wanted someone to love me and I wanted to love him."
She paused, took a deep breath, and then looked at me again.
"You remind me of someone," she said and blinked rapidly for a moment. Her expression changed. It was as if she had just set eyes on me. "Do you know my sister Olivia Logan? Her maiden name was Gordon, same as mine," she said with a light, thin laugh.
"I'm your niece, Aunt Belinda. I'm Jacob's daughter, Grandma Olivia's Jacob."
"Yes," she said. She smiled. "How pretty you are. Are you a schoolgirl?"
"Yes, I'm in high school."
"And you have a boyfriend, or do you have many boyfriends?"
"Just one," I said.
She looked out the window.
"I'm waiting for him. I sit here by the window every day and I wait. He promised he would return, you know. And he would bring me flowers and candy. They don't want me to have any candy," she whispered, gazing at the door. "But he hides it in the flowers."
She brought her hand to her mouth and giggled like a little girl.
Then, she suddenly started to hum.
"Aunt Belinda?"
She continued to hum and stare out the window.
"I'm going, Aunt Belinda," I said, rising. She paused and looked at me.
"You tell Olivia I'm not sorry. She's the one who should be sorry. If it weren't for her, he'd still be my boyfriend. We would be out there," she said, gazing at the garden, "walking hand in hand and he would be telling me sweet things."
She returned to her humming and staring.
I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, but she didn't seem to feel it. I paused in the doorway and gazed back at her. She looked so small and alone, left only with her memories and haunted by her regrets and losses.
That would never be me, I pledged. No one will keep me from my love.
"Well?" Cary said after I got into the truck and we started away. "Did you get what you wanted from her?"
"Yes," I said. "What was that?"
"An answer to a question."
"What question?" he asked, glancing at me. "Laura?"
"Something only a woman would understand," I said.
"Oh brother. That stuff again."
"Yes, Cary, that stuff again," I said and pressed my forehead against the window as we bounced over the road and onto the main highway. Cary accelerated, blowing air out of his tight lips and shaking his head.
"It's all because of him," he muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing," he growled and tightened his shoulders as he turned himself away and drove faster.
When we got home, I thanked him and hurried toward the house, Cary right behind me.
"Robert called," Mommy said as we entered. Cary looked at me and then ran up the stairs, pounding the steps so hard, the entire staircase shook.
"Thank you, Mommy. I'll be right in to help with dinner," I said and went to the phone.
"Where were you today?" I asked as soon as Robert said hello.
"I had such a headache this morning, Mom thought I was coming down with the flu or something. She said I had a little fever and gave me some aspirin and told me to take the day off. Normally, I'd have to be chained to the bed, but things haven't been too normal. Did you miss me?"
"Of course. I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't."
"How are you doing? You looked so distracted after school yesterday. I hardly had a chance to say a word and I don't think you heard anything I said anyway."
"It's all right, Robert. I've just had so much on my mind with finals and stuff."
"Stuff means me, right?"
"Yes."
"I still love you, Laura. You can refuse to answer my letters, grunt after everything I say in school, but I won't stop loving you."
"I know. I don't want you to," I said,
"Really?"
Of course. How do you feel now?"
"I'm getting better fast," he said. "I'll be in school tomorrow. Laura, can't we see each other soon?"
"Yes."
"This weekend?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes, I would like that."
"Great," he said with relief. "I'll--we'll plan tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Robert. I've got to go help Mommy with dinner."
"I'll be at your locker tomorrow morning, probably before you," he said with a laugh. "I love you, Laura."
As soon as I cradled the receiver, Daddy entered. He took one look at me and then tilted his head with curiosity.
"What's going on, Laura?"
"Nothing, Daddy. I'm just going to help Mommy with dinner. Did you have a good day?"
"Fair to middling. Where's Cary?"
"Upstairs."
"In the attic again, I suppose. That boy should have been born a bat so he could live in a belfry," Daddy muttered and went to wash up for dinner.
After dinner Mommy insisted I go up and study and not waste time helping her with the cleanup.
"Besides," she said, signing to May, "May's big enough to help out by herself now."
Up in my room, I began to worry that I had lost my ability to concentrate and would do poorer than I expected on my finals. If I continued to do as well as I had, I would be my class's valedictorian next year. I knew how important that was to Mommy and especially to Grandma Olivia.
I hadn't been at my desk long before I heard the phone ring. I listened, wondering if Robert was calling again. No one called me to the phone, so I went back to my notes. Then I heard Daddy's heavy steps on the stairway. I looked up because I sensed he had stopped at my door. He knocked.