Beyond Midnight (46 page)

"
Let me find out who and what you are, then,
"
he said simply.
"
Let me spend time with you.
"

She laughed at that.
"
Time! The one thing you don
'
t have to spend!
"

"
Now who
'
s the cynic?
"

Flushing
, she said,
"
You
'
re right. I
'
m prejudging.
"

"
This evening. After the social. We
'
ll meet for supper at Genevieve
'
s. I
'
d come over to pick you up, but I
'
m afraid that Russ
'
d bar the door.
"

"
He
'
ll get over that,
"
Helen said without much hope.

"
He
'
s going to have to.
"

Nat was still less than a breath away when they heard a loudly polite knock on the outside wall of the office. Helen
'
s daughter popped into the doorway and said,
"
Hi! Sorry to bother you, but everyone
'
s leaving—all at the same time, it looks like—and I thought you
'
d want to be there for the farewells.
"

Becky was looking directly at her mother, pretending that Nat was nowhere around. It took real ingenuity.

"
Thanks, honey,
"
Helen said. Turning to Nat, she said,
"
Will you excuse me?
"
She waved pointlessly at the biggest bookcase in the office and said,
"
I think the book you want is over there.
"

"
Seven?
"
he asked, ignoring her improvisation.

"
Yes, okay.
"

She beat a retreat with Becky, who surprised her by having other things than Nathaniel Byrne on her mind.

"
I
'
m sorry about the glass, Mom,
"
she said, obviously taking Sarah
'
s injury personally.
"
We went over and over the grass. Stupid gift—I wish she
'
d left it on the other side of the ocean!
"

"
Ocean? What ocean?
"

"
Elaine told me that Peaches got the glass ball when she was in
London
,
"
Becky explained.

"
Huh. She must not have heard right. I had the impression that Peaches bought it especially for me.
"

"
Since when are you two such chums?
"

"
Beats me,
"
Helen said, shrugging.
"
A bribe, so I
'
ll be extra nice to Katie?
"

They had reached the graveled parking area, where the
last few rhododendron blossoms were barely hanging on. Becky was right: Things did have the look of a stampede. Parents were hurrying their children along as if a thunderstorm were on the way.

"
Janet must be doing a brisk business at the sink,
"
Helen said as she watched a steady stream of parents leave the basement kitchen with clean Tupperware tucked under their arms.

The good-byes seemed hurried and perfunctory. Helen was disappointed. Just about everyone seemed to have someplace to go, something to do. True, it was four o
'
clock, but the Ice Cream Social always ran late.

"
Everything
'
s like that nowadays, Mom,
"
Becky said to console her.
"
You know how you used to ferry us all around, all day, until I got my driver
'
s license. These kids just aren
'
t old enough to drive themselves around yet.
"

"
Neither is Russ,
"
said Helen suddenly.
"
So what
'
s he doing behind the wheel of Nat
'
s Porsche?
"

Becky laughed nervously and said,
"
The door was unlocked?
"

"
I
'
ll brain that kid,
"
said Helen, making a bolt for her son. She stopped short when she saw Nat saunter up to his car, apparently amused to see a monkey impersonating a human being inside. Helen couldn
'
t hear what Nat said, but she could tell, even from a distance, that Russ was mortified at having been caught drooling in the driver
'
s seat.

She watched as her son shook his head at something Nat said, then, without looking up, got out of the front seat and melted away.

She wanted to shout,
"
Don
'
t slouch, danm it! Stand up straight and take your reprimand like a man!
"

Instead she found herself uttering a silent, flippant prayer:
Please don
'
t
let Russ ever steal the Porsche. Please. Any car but that one.

H
e
l
en returned to find a disturbing message on her machine: the Baers were withdrawing their daughter Molly from the summer session. No reason was given, no apology made. It was a complete about-face from their enthusiasm that afternoon. Mrs. Baer
'
s voice sounded timid, almost fearful, as if she were afraid Helen was going to hunt her down and scratch out her eyes.

"
For Pete
'
s sake, it
'
s your choice,
"
Helen muttered at the machine.

She played the message several times, then made a quick return call. No answer. In the meantime she was already half an hour late for her rendezvous at Genevieve
'
s. After taking out a couple of Stouffer
'
s frozen dinners for the kids, Helen sped away in her Volvo, feeling a little like Bonnie going off to meet Clyde.

The line for Genevieve
'
s went out the door. Couples milled around the two iron benches, both full, that had been placed under the awning of the restaurant for the inevitable summer overflow. Type As did not care for lines; Helen expected Nat to be long gone.

Once again he surprised her. True, he was looking at his watch and true, he was drumming his fingers on his thigh—
but he was still there. And when he looked up and saw her and his face creased into a relieved and ardent grin—well, she loved him, that
'
s all.

"
Sorry, sorry, sorry,
"
she said, once for every fifteen minutes of her delay.
"
It always takes longer than I remember to clean up after the Social.
"

"
Are you late? I hadn
'
t noticed,
" he said with self-
mocking humor. He glanced at the crowd with no enthusiasm, then said,
"
Why don
'
t we pass? I
'
ve got a bellyache from too much Toasted Almond Sauce anyway. You
'
re probably not hungry, either?
"

"
Not very,
"
she said, and hoped he couldn
'
t hear her stomach growling.

Apparently he could. Smiling, he added,
"
On my way in I did
see a clam shack on the Wharf."

"
Great.
"

He steered her across and down
Derby Street
in the direction of the array of shops and eateries on
Pickering
Wharf
, the jewel in the crown of
Salem
'
s waterfront redevelopment.

Helen said,
"
I hope my son wasn
'
t in your car long enough to break anything.
"

"
Actually,
"
Nat said,
"
I offered to take him for a quick spin around the block. He wasn
'
t interested.
"
He laughed and said,
"
Maybe if I had just handed him the keys.. .
"

"
Don
'
t even joke about it,
"
Helen said, shuddering.
"
I don
'
t know where his endless fascination with fast cars comes from. It must have something to do with the ones his father drove as a trooper.
"

"
Hmm, yeah, they
'
re pretty fast. I
'
ve been up close and personal with them more than once.
"

"
Speeding tickets?
"

"
More than once.
"

She was thinking,
Well, here
'
s the pe
r
fect role model for my son.
"
Probably you can guess how I feel about going too fast,
"
she said.

He smiled ruefully and said,
"
I
'
m guessing you
'
re not for it. Am I right?
"

She gave him the same rueful smile back for his answer. He laced his fingers through her hand and gave it a little squeeze.
"
Speeding is addictive,
"
he said.
"
But—scout
'
s honor—I
'
m trying to stay nearer the limit. I look on it as therapy.
"

"
Good for you,
"
said Helen, her spirits rising again.
"
And in the same vein, I
'
ll try to be punctual next—
"

Oops.

He laughed and lifted her hand to his lips and said,
"
Next time. Yes. Tomorrow. Do that.
"

"
No, Nat,
"
she wailed.
"
Not tomorrow. I
'
ve got two kids! I don
'
t have time for this relationship. Neither do you. Katie—
"

"
Katie
'
s in bed,
"
he said smugly.
"
Hey, a thought! Make your kids go to bed at seven.
"

"
If I knew how to do that, I could write a book and retire on the royalties,
"
she said as they sidled up to the fast-food kiosk.

She ordered a clam roll; he ordered a hot dog. Iced tea for her, beer for him, fries to share. They wandered off toward the boardwalk with their bag of cholesterol and found a vacant bench, just as the sparrows hoped they would.

Nat threw the beggar birds a bit of his roll and took a monster bite of his hot dog.
"
Mmm. Mmm. Yeah. This is good. Wonder what
'
s in it?
"
he said between chews.

"
Ground clam be
ll
ies, without a doubt,
"
said Helen, dangling a breaded version in front of him. She popped it in her mouth, relishing the squish of it.

It felt so much like a date. Every other time she
'
d been with him had felt, somehow, like business. But this was theirs alone—the junk food, the sparrows, the boardwalk, the boats.

All theirs.

"
This was a good idea,
"
she said with a companionable sigh.