Albert Gelman tugged free a faded sprig of scarlet Alstroemeria from the huge arrangement on the piano. Then, he stepped back and critically surveyed the remaining blossoms, eyeing them for any signs of incipient lifelessness that would mean they needed culling.
From the doorway, Dena watched him tending the piano’s bouquet and tried to work up the nerve to speak. He was a perfectionist, and thus was demanding to work for, but he had been fair and kind to her, and what she was about to do was unfair – to leave him with no notice, no warning. She dreaded telling him.
Before she could figure out how to begin, he seemed to sense her presence and looked around. ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘Where are your whites?’
‘Albert,’ she said. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Uh-oh,’ he said. ‘What?’
‘Can we sit?’
Albert looked around the room for the most convenient spot and then sat down on the piano bench, patting the chair beside it for her. Dena settled herself awkwardly on the edge of the seat, her feet flat on the floor. She knitted her fingers together and sighed.
Albert glanced at his watch, and then back at Dena. ‘Well?’
Dena took a deep breath. ‘You know that Peter’s leaving town today.’
Albert made a face. ‘Yes, I certainly do. And, I have to say, he has a strange way of showing his gratitude. Did he ever tell you about how Eric and I found him in that garish old people’s palace in Miami? We rescued him. I mean, literally. They were living like gypsies in two little rooms over a Cuban restaurant. We offered him good money. I made a deal with my friend for that house …’ He interrupted his own tirade. ‘Is this about the house? I know it’s nothing grand, but until you get yourself sorted out …’
Dena realized how difficult this was going to be. ‘No, the house has been fine. You really rescued me, too, Albert.’
‘I don’t think he’s going to find it so easy out there in East Jibib, or wherever it is he’s going. He claims to be such a devoted father, and then he uproots these children, turns their lives upside down, drags them across the county. Oh, don’t get me started. Now what is it, sweetie. More trouble with the boyfriend? I know you don’t want to be alone there, and my friend assures me that he’s got somebody else for the other half of the duplex, but if you want to switch apartments—’
‘Albert … Albert, I’m going with him. I’m leaving town with Peter … today.’
Albert shifted around on the piano bench, crossed his legs, and folded his hands over his bony knees and the perfect crease of his trousers. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
Dena shook her head. ‘Brian broke the door down to my apartment last night.’
Albert’s eyes widened. ‘Did you call the cops?’
Dena sighed. ‘Albert, I have a restraining order against him. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. He’s not going to stop.’
Albert pursed his lips and picked some imaginary lint off his trousers.
‘I’m afraid that if I don’t get away from him, something terrible is going to happen. I can’t just sit around here and wait for it to happen …’
Albert raised a hand to silence her. ‘I understand. I understand that. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t be worried. Only a fool would say that. But why go off with Peter?’
‘I’m not going off with Peter,’ said Dena. ‘I’m going to my sister’s. I’m just going to hitch a ride to Chicago. They’re heading that way.’
‘I don’t understand this. You have a car, a place to live, a job. How can you just get up and walk away? Your baby will be here before you know it. Did he talk you into this?’
‘No. Not at all. I’d already decided to leave here. I called my sister even before Jennifer … I called her when things went bad with Brian to tell her I was coming. I thought I could take my time and work everything out. But now I know I can’t. I can’t stay here. Brian has made it impossible. I have to go now, and worry about the details later. I mean, I can pay somebody to drive my car out. I won’t embarrass you with your friend. I’ll send an extra month’s rent to the landlord. As for you, my job, I don’t know what else I can do. I need to have my baby somewhere where I feel safe. Peter has offered me an escape and I’m going to take it.’
Albert sat tensely, and stared at his hands, folded around his knee. Then, he abruptly unfolded hands and knees and stood up. ‘Well, you do whatever you feel you have to,’ he said. ‘Although it’s extremely unprofessional of you to walk out like this with no notice …’
‘I know it is. And I am sorry. I’m truly sorry.’
‘Have you told René?’
‘Not yet,’ she said miserably. ‘I thought I ought to speak to you first.’
‘Well, you’ve spoken. You seem to have made up your mind. There really isn’t any more to say.’
He was acting angry, but she could see that he was hurt. He had been a friend to her when she needed one. He didn’t deserve to be treated inconsiderately. She could understand how he felt, but it didn’t change anything. She had to go. Still, she wished he could understand. ‘After last night, I don’t feel like I have a choice. I can’t spend another night like that. I had to sleep on Peter’s couch because Brian broke my door in. You’ve been very kind to me, ever since I came here. It’s been a wonderful place to work, and I hate to leave like this.’
Albert was no stranger to partings – friends, lovers, employees. As a child he’d been a weeper, his easily broken heart the object of derision by other children. Over his lifetime, he’d developed a crust – he could raise that shield when he needed it. He smiled thinly at Dena. ‘No one’s indispensable,’ he said. ‘You’d better go and speak to René, and it would be polite to tell Eric as well.’
Dena stood up, looking pale and shaky. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, really.’
Part of him actually felt sorry for her. A small part. But, for the most part, he just felt betrayed. He had tried to help her and this was what he got. He knew he should wish her good luck, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Peter rummaged in the Little Mermaid suitcase on the floor of Megan and Tory’s room. ‘Here,’ he said cheerfully, over the sound of water filling the bathtub in the next room. He held up a faded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. ‘After your bath, you can put these on. But first I want you to have a good bath, and get all clean while I finish up around here. That way we’ll be all set to leave when Dena gets back, and Tory gets out of school.’
Megan, still in her pjs, sat on the edge of her bed, staring at him, her thumb in her mouth.
‘Megan, take that out,’ he said, prying it firmly away from her face. Megan’s eyes filled with tears, but she did not protest aloud.
‘Listen,’ said Peter. ‘You help me by having that bath so we can go away from here and never come back anymore. Won’t that be good?’
The child gazed at him, her rosy lip pushed out, the tears sliding down her face.
‘Of course it will,’ he said. ‘We’ll start fresh, with a new house and maybe even a new baby.’ As he talked, he began to remove the remaining clothes from the dresser drawers and pile them up on the bed. He made sure that each sock had a match before he put it into a box. ‘I know you don’t like it here anymore,’ he went on in a soothing voice. ‘And I don’t blame you. The place where we’re going – out west – they have mountains and cowboys and—’
‘Indians?’ she cried.
‘No,’ he scoffed. ‘No Indians. We’ll be perfectly safe there. No sneak attacks. Maybe we’ll get a house out in the country. Far away from other people. Would you like that?’
Suddenly, from the living room, a voice called out, ‘Peter, Peter are you home?’
Peter and Megan looked at one another. Megan was wide-eyed, her whole body stiff, but not with fear. With excitement. She was trembling. ‘Miss Kay,’ she cried. ‘Miss Kay!’
Peter, who had not recognized the voice as quickly as the child, frowned and nodded. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘I think it is Miss Kay!’
Megan shrieked and slid down off the bed. She went running out the door, toward the living room, her father following behind her. He stopped to turn off the water in the bathtub, which was already deep enough. There were shouts of ‘Miss Kay’ and ‘Meggie’, and when Peter entered the living room, he saw Megan, enveloped in the black-and-white checkered coat of a middle-aged woman, who was kneeling on the floor, rocking the child and murmuring to her with an expression of delight on her face.
‘Brenda,’ he said, staring at their former baby-sitter, whom they had not seen since she left to live with her daughter. ‘What a surprise.’
Brenda Kelly squeezed Megan gently and then released her. She got to her feet and extended a hand to Peter, who shook it briefly. ‘Hello Peter,’ she said gravely. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
Brenda clasped Megan’s hand and swung it in her own, looking down fondly at the beaming child. ‘Well, you didn’t think I’d just forget all about you folks. I told you I’d come and visit.’
Peter smiled thinly. ‘I … just thought you’d give us some warning.’
‘Warning?’ she said. She was looking at him intently, as if she had never really seen him before.
‘You know, let us know you were coming,’ he said uneasily.
‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,’ she said.
‘Well, it’s good to see you, in any case,’ said Peter. ‘It’s been tough managing without you.’
Brenda looked around the disassembled rooms. ‘I see you’re moving,’ she said.
‘Yes, leaving today, as a matter of fact. You should have told me you were planning to visit,’ he said, a faintly disapproving note in his voice.
‘Kind of sudden?’ Brenda observed.
‘Job offer out West,’ he said. ‘I had to grab it.’
Megan clung to the older woman’s hand and stared up at her with shining eyes. ‘Miss Kay, Miss Kay,’ she cried. ‘Come with us.’
Brenda smiled. ‘I can’t, honey. I have to get back to my grandchildren. They’d be awful mad if I just up and left them.’
‘How’s it going with Regina and the kids?’ Peter asked politely.
Brenda shook her head. ‘The kids are great. Regina … that’s another matter. This divorce seems to have thrown her for a loop. She’s out drinking in bars after work, when she should be home with the children. They notice it. It’s tough on them. Tough on me, too, but no matter what I say—’
‘Well, I’m sure it’s an adjustment for everyone,’ said Peter with a decided lack of interest.
Brenda Kelly recognized the hint, but didn’t take it. ‘I need to talk to you, Peter,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Can I sit down?’
‘Well, it’s a busy time …’
She gazed at him implacably.
‘Of course,’ he said, clearing some boxes off the sofa. ‘Sit down.’
Brenda sat down heavily and Megan instantly climbed up on her lap. Brenda smiled sadly at the child, smoothing her hair away from her eyes, and caressing her round cheek fondly.
‘What can I do for you?’ Peter asked.
Brenda continued to gaze at Megan. ‘Honey,’ she said. ‘Listen. I need to talk to your daddy alone. Grown-up talk. Can you go in your room and give your dolls some tea and cookies while Daddy and I talk? You still have that tea set I gave you, don’t you?’
Megan nodded gravely. ‘Oh yes.’
‘And you still give your babies their tea, don’t you?’
Megan slipped down off her lap and landed with a thud on the floor. ‘I make tea,’ she said.
‘Never mind tea,’ said Peter. ‘You get those pajamas off and hop in the bathtub. The water is nice and warm.’ He sighed. ‘I want to get her bathed right away so I can pack up the bathroom stuff. Dry out the bathmat and all that.’
Brenda nodded, but showed no inclination to depart. Peter turned to Megan. ‘Maybe if you’re good, Miss Kay will help you wash your hair later,’ he offered.
‘Oh, I’d like that,’ said Brenda, nodding at the child.
‘I take my bath,’ Megan promised, wide-eyed. Brenda watched the child scamper back toward her room and then turned to Peter who was studying her.
‘Brenda, what’s the matter? You seem so … serious.’
Brenda took a deep breath. ‘This is serious,’ she said. Then she hesitated. ‘Very serious. I wasn’t sure I should come.’
‘Well, what is it?’ he asked.
She did not look at him. She gulped in another deep breath, and then placed a hand flat on her chest, as if it were difficult to inhale enough air. ‘OK. OK. I told myself I was going to come here and speak to you about this and I’m going to. But, I’m nervous.’
‘What?’ he asked. ‘You’re making me nervous.’
‘Peter, I have no argument with you. You know that.’
‘No. None that I know of.’ He frowned, and waited.
‘OK. I was watching my programs yesterday afternoon. Oprah had a show on about …’
‘Oprah?’ he asked in a bemused tone, as if relieved.
Brenda Kelly met his gaze with her own, unsmiling eyes. ‘It was a show about fathers and child custody.’
Peter raised his eyebrows, as if feigning interest.
‘There was a woman on the show talking about how her husband was denied custody, so he took their two children and ran away. She showed a picture of them. The children looked completely different than they do now, of course. No resemblance, really.’
‘Wait a minute, hold it,’ said Peter. ‘What in the world are you telling me this for? What has this got to do with me?’
‘Quite a bit, I’m afraid,’ she said.
‘Brenda, my wife, died, as you well know.’
‘I know that’s what you said. I admit, I wasn’t thinking about you, although the man’s face looked familiar. It was sort of fuzzy, but it rang a bell. He was clean-shaven, but his features were similar. Still, why would I think of you? I believed that your wife was dead. I wasn’t even paying that much attention. And then the woman mentioned the birthmark. Star-shaped. On the little one’s lower back.’
‘That could be anyone,’ he muttered. ‘Lots of kids have birthmarks.’
‘But it wasn’t just anyone,’ Brenda persisted. ‘She showed a picture. I bathed Megan often enough. So I looked more closely at the photos they were showing on the screen. They didn’t just show them once. They showed them over and over again, Peter. That little girl with the birthmark. It was Megan. And the other one was Tory. Although they had different names when they were born. It was you.’
Peter looked out the front window with narrowed eyes, his lips white where they were pressed together.
Perspiration had beaded on Brenda’s forehead. She was still wearing her coat. She tugged out a Kleenex and blotted the beads of sweat. ‘Once I realized it, I felt like somebody had just kicked me in the gut. I didn’t know what to do. At first I thought, just forget it. Let it go. You’re out of their lives. But I couldn’t.’
Peter looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap.
‘I didn’t know what to do. I decided that I had to talk to you before I did anything. I had to give you the benefit of the doubt. I know how you love those girls. No one knows better than me what a devoted father you are, Peter,’ she said gently. ‘You’ve got to believe me. I’m not judging you. I just want to know.’
‘I didn’t say it was true. You can believe what you want.’
‘Oh, it’s true,’ she said.
‘I suppose you’ve called the police,’ he said.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t tell a soul. I wanted to hear your side. I owe you … and the girls … that much. I love those kids. I want to do what’s best for them.’
‘So do I,’ he whispered.
‘I know you do,’ she said vehemently. ‘But running away. Telling them their mother is dead … Wasn’t there any other way?’
‘No. You don’t think I … that this happened without considering all the options, do you? Those girls are everything to me. They were trapped. I had to do something.’
‘But it was wrong,’ said Brenda earnestly.
‘God, when I woke up this morning I never thought … Getting ready for our trip. We were so happy …’
‘Tell me what happened,’ Brenda insisted.
Peter got up and paced around the room. The expression on his face ricocheted between anger and despair. ‘She was unfit. Completely unfit. But I couldn’t prove it in court. They didn’t see what I saw. She was a monster. Out of control, emotionally.’
‘She seemed normal enough on the TV,’ said Brenda.
He turned on her with rage in his eyes. ‘Oh, she could seem as normal as apple pie. That’s why the court wouldn’t believe me. But I had to live with her. Sit by and watch, while she destroyed my children. Should I have done that, Brenda? Given up and just let her … do her worst. I’m not that kind of man.’
‘The courts always favor the mother,’ Brenda agreed. ‘I swear sometimes I think my own grandchildren would be better off with their father.’
Peter knelt down in front of her and grasped her hands. ‘You understand what I’m saying. I tried to do it their way. But every day that went by, those girls were in danger from her. I had to do something to protect them. I know what it is to be raised by a twisted, heartless mother. I couldn’t let that happen to them.’
Brenda looked at him sadly. ‘No. I understand. I know how much you love them. But living like this.’ She extricated her hand from his and waved it around the room. ‘Always on the run. This is no way for children to live.’
‘Brenda, it’s not an easy life. I know that. I don’t make much money. It’s more important to me to be with the girls. Fortunately, when she died, my mother left me some stocks that I was able to liquidate. So, we’re able to manage all right. We have enough money to live simply. You know there’s nothing extravagant in the way we live.’
‘I know that,’ she said, nodding. ‘You’re very responsible that way.’
‘For the most part, we have to keep our distance from people. But at least I know my girls are safe. I would give my life for those girls.’
‘I know you would,’ she said sadly. ‘But they don’t know the truth about their own lives. Do they? Does Tory know? She must remember her mother.’
‘She accepts what I told her. That her mother died. She doesn’t seem to remember too much. Someday, I’ll tell her. I’ll tell them both. When they’re older, and she can’t hurt them anymore.’
‘What did she do to them? Was she an addict or something?’
‘Worse than that,’ he said. ‘I can’t go into it.’ He looked up. ‘Shhh … Megan might hear us. But, Brenda, you know I’m a good father …’
‘You’re a very good father. I mean, you’re a little demanding with them sometimes—’
‘Demanding,’ he cried. ‘Because I want them to be their best?’
Brenda shook her head. ‘I know you have good intentions. And I’m sure your wife had her problems. Believe me, I know. I look at Regina …’ Brenda shook her head. ‘But children need their mother. They need a mother’s love.’
‘Miss Kay,’ Megan called from the bathroom. ‘Come wash my hair.’
‘I’m coming, honey,’ Brenda called back absently.
‘There’s no sacrifice too great,’ Peter said urgently. ‘You must know I meant that.’ He looked at her with imploring eyes. ‘Tell me I can trust you. Tell me you’ll keep my secret,’ he said. ‘Please, for the girls. If we go back, they’ll put me in jail. They’ll say I kidnapped my own children. How is that possible, Brenda? How can they call it kidnapping, when it’s your own flesh and blood?’
‘But their mother must miss them,’ she said sadly.
‘More than I would miss them, if the law ripped them away from me? Brenda, think about it. If you don’t keep my secret, that’s what will happen.’
‘You’re asking a lot, Peter.’
‘Please, Brenda, I know how much you care for them.’
Brenda sighed, and looked doubtfully into his woeful eyes. ‘I don’t think I could ever be responsible for separating them from you.’
Peter bent his head and kissed her hands. ‘Bless you,’ he said.