Elizabeth's Daughter (12 page)

   “I was thinking of my Gypsy look, lots of scarves and skirts and colors,” Gail said. “And then I thought, no, too eccentric. So I thought, the navy blue suit, have you seen it? But then I thought, no, too severe. So then I thought.... “

  “I’m wearing that big old plaid flannel shirt Peter left here and blue jeans,” Elizabeth put in.

  That stopped Gail in her planning tracks.

  “Really?!”

  “Really. But only because I’m curious to see if Peter recognizes the shirt. Don’t worry, Gail, Peter is a regular guy. He’s very, ahm, accessible. Just be comfortable.”

  “If you say so,” Gail sounded unwilling to let go of her apparel planning.

  “Let’s go check out your wardrobe and see what you look special in,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Let’s!”

  They went into Gail’s room and an hour later, after all her clothes were piled everywhere. They’d decided on a lacy lavender pullover and a full, multi-print skirt.

  “You look great, Gail,” Elizabeth said. “A little bit Gypsy, a little bit reserved.”

Chapter XIV

When Elizabeth opened the door Friday night, Peter was laden with gifts of fruit and wine.

  “Oh, Peter, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

  “Couldn’t come empty-handed.” He gave her an appraising look. “What looks familiar?”

  She pirouetted slowly.

  “That shirt! It’s uncanny, I used to have one just like it, that is, not me, but....”

   “This is it. You left it in the back of one of the guest room closets. I meant to ask you if you missed it, but I kept forgetting. It’s so huge, I decided it wasn’t yours.”

  “You’re right, it’s not mine, but it seems strange that I’d overlook it. I guess you’re supposed to have it. It was my father’s favorite shirt. When he died, my mother gave it to me. It looks great on you.”

  Elizabeth’s smile fled from her her face. “Oh, Peter, I’m sorry!” Elizabeth couldn’t remember when she’d embarrassed herself so completely.

  “Don’t be, Elizabeth. I love seeing you in it. It’s getting some use, instead of mouldering in the back of a closet.”

  “I’m going to change immediately. I had no intention of keeping it, I just wanted to tease you,” Elizabeth insisted.

  Peter shook his head firmly. “I refuse to take it. It’s a gift from me to you. Even if you don’t like it, you’d better keep it or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

  “But I
do
like it. I love it. I was attracted to it the moment I saw it, and I’ve never worn men’s plaid shirts in my life.”

  “See? It belongs to you. Now then,” Peter changed the subject, “let’s see what you’ve done to the old fort.”

  Elizabeth studied Peter for a moment, then decided he was sincerely untroubled about giving her the shirt. “Nothing much. About the only thing I’ve done to the place is populate it. Let me introduce you to Gail. She’s creating culinary wonders you won’t soon forget.”

  “Ah!” Peter said, won over, “take me to her!”

  They went into the kitchen where Gail was busily putting the final touches on the meal.

  “Gail, I’d like you to meet my friend, Peter Shamus. Peter, Gail Wanaski, my right arm, and, I might add, an admirer of your work.”

  Gail wiped her hands on her apron, her color high. “I hope you don’t mind a damp hand,” she said, extending it. It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shamus. It’s true, I’m one of your biggest fans.”

  Peter shook her hand heartily. “I’m happy to meet you. Judging from the perfumes in this kitchen, I’m about to become one of
your
greatest fans. And don’t you dare call me Mr. Shamus again!”

  Oh! What should I call you?” 

  Then she and Peter exchanged a confidential look. “Mr. Big Hand!” they said in unison, and broke into laughter.

  Still laughing, they turned to Elizabeth. She looked at them blankly.

  “Mr. Big Hand is a character in one of Peter’s stories,” Gail clarified. “He’s an imaginary friend of a little boy. At least that’s what everyone thinks. You see, the big hand comes flying off this kid’s clock and it, like, stalks the kid. It’s real spooky. Finally the kid confronts it and says, ‘what should I call you?’ and it answers....”

  “Mr. Big Hand,” Elizabeth guessed, monotone.

  Peter and Gail started giggling again.

  “Well,” Gail gasped, “you had to be there. I mean, the story, the way Peter writes it, it’s terrifying! It’s great!”

  If the evening was about to become one literary allusion after another, Elizabeth told herself, I should have taken Gail’s advice and read some of Peter’s work.

  “Enough hilarity,” Peter said. “Let’s see the star, the new baby.”

  “She’s napping.” Elizabeth noticed that this was the second time in only a few minutes that Peter responded with sensitivity to her discomfort. She’d never in her life had a man come to her emotional defense, and for such a new feeling, it was very comfortable. She imagined that that’s what a big brother would have been like. “I hope she’ll wake up soon, but if you want, we can go take a peek at her.”

  “Of course I want!”

  Peter and Elizabeth went upstairs and tip-toed into the bedroom.

  Amy was sleeping on her tummy with her cherubic little face toward them.

  They stole up to the crib. Elizabeth watched Peter look down at Amy, his angular face becoming soft. He studied Amy’s face as if it was the first time in his life he’d gotten close to an original da Vinci.

  Peter gave Elizabeth a soft smile and took her hand. They tip-toed back out of the bedroom.

  “Aren’t babies miraculous?” Peter asked as they went back downstairs.

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Amy’s beautiful, Elizabeth. She’s perfect.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said quietly. “She
is
beautiful. And she’s perfect. Although she was born with a club foot.”

  Peter stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, Elizabeth, I’m sorry to hear that. How severe?”

  “Well, it’s only her left leg, but it’s fairly severe. She has to have surgery in a couple of months. I’m dreading it! I don’t know what I’d do without Gail. She says it’s routine, that it’ll be a snap, that Amy will be home in no time and everything will be better for Amy, and, well, all of us. But I think about it and just about go nuts.”

  “Well, don’t go nuts, dear,” Peter patted her shoulder. “You’ve been entrusted with a special gift, I know you’ll be strong. This experience will give you empathy and wisdom.”

  Elizabeth felt herself close to tears. Peter didn’t have a way with words only on paper, she thought. “I’ve gotten so involved in what’s going on right now, that I forgot about the grander design. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such wonderful people as you and Gail and Amy.”

  “The privilege is mutual,” Peter assured her.

  “Are you two going to stand around praising each other all night,” Gail called from the dining room, “or can we eat now?”

  “We’re coming.”

  “What do you think of our little darlin’?” Gail asked Peter as they settled into their places at the dining table.

  “She’s wonderful,” he said. “I hope she wakes up, I want to see that pretty little face animated.”

  “It’s a treat!” Gail agreed.

  The dinner conversation revolved around Amy, with no more allusions to Peter’s writing. Elizabeth resolved to rectify the gap in her education starting tomorrow. Like Gail said, she told herself, I have no excuse not to, with her library of Peter’s work.

  As Elizabeth watched Gail and Peter banter, it came to her that they were two passengers on the same trip, intelligent and sensitive, and sharing the same off-beat sense of humor, that, even without cryptic literary references, Elizabeth didn’t quite follow.

  “I’ll get Amy,” she said when she heard her while they were having dessert. “Now, Peter, you’ll get your second dessert.”

  “Don’t wake her on my account,” Peter protested.

  “She’s awake,” Gail and Elizabeth said together.

  “She doesn’t have to worry about being ignored around here, does she?” he observed. “I didn’t hear a peep.”

  “She hardly ever peeps,” Elizabeth said, laughing. “She rocks her crib when she wants attention. Didn’t you hear that ‘squee-squee’ sound?”

  Upstairs, Elizabeth could see Amy in the glow of the night-light, sitting up, playing with a stuffed giraffe.

  “Hello, baby,” she said softly. Amy looked up and smiled. She had five teeth now.

  “Bet!” she said, her name for Elizabeth as Gail was always calling her ‘Pet.’ She held the giraffe up for Elizabeth to admire.

  “Pretty giraffe!” Elizabeth took Amy’s baby brush and perked up her black curls. “Pretty toy. Shall we go downstairs and see the new person?”

  Peter and Gail had repaired to the living room and the fireplace. Peter sat on the couch, facing the stairs, waiting for Elizabeth and Amy to return.

  “There she is!” he said as they came into the room. “Look at that pretty little girl!”

  Elizabeth took Amy up to Peter. “Amy, this is Peter.”

  Peter held out his arms and Elizabeth surrendered her, slowly. “I don’t know how she’ll react to a man. I don’t think there’ve been many in her short life.”

  Amy looked up at Peter’s face with surprise, her eyes opened wider and rounder and wider and rounder, and her mouth turned down into a tiny ‘n’. Very quietly she looked around, saw Gail and Elizabeth smiling at her. She looked back at Peter. The downward turn of her mouth neutralized some, and then she seemed to relax.

  “I guess she trusts you,” Elizabeth said.

  “I’m privileged,” Peter answered quietly.

  Gail nodded. “Babies know the good guys from the bad guys, you can’t fool them.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Peter asked Amy. “Beautiful black curls and huge blue eyes!” He inhaled deeply. “Ohh, and you smell wonderful!” He beamed at everything and everyone. “I want to join your matriarchy!”

  Elizabeth and Gail laughed.

  “If you did,” Elizabeth pointed out, “it wouldn’t be a matriarchy anymore.”

  “No, no!” Peter protested, “I wouldn’t be an official member, I’d be a slave. Just call me Egor. I’ll fetch water and, I don’t know, wash your cars. In exchange for getting to bask in your gentility.”

  “You haven’t seen the whole picture, Peter. Sometimes we get pretty rowdy.”

  “All the better!”

  “He’s not easily dissuaded, is he?” Gail asked Elizabeth.

  “Seriously,” Peter said, “I don’t know how I can repay your wonderful hospitality.”

  “Well... “ Elizabeth said. “But there are two things you
could
do.”

  “Gladly! What are they?”

  “First of all, I wanted to ask if I could hire Ralph away from you for a few days to install baby gates and build a fence around the patio before Amy starts toddling around.”

  “Done! You don’t even need to ask me, just ask Ralph, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to do it. What’s the second thing I can do for you? The first one doesn’t count, because I’m not doing anything.”

  “I believe it would make Gail happy if you signed one of your books.”

  “That’s too easy,” Peter said. 

  “But she’s right,” Gail put in. “It would mean an awful lot to me.”

  “Bring it on. And I’ll give you a copy of the anthology when it comes out.”

  “Oh no,” Gail protested. “That’s too much!”

  “Not in the least. When have I had an evening as special as this?” Peter hugged Amy close to him. “Never! That’s when,” he went on, answering his own question.

  “I’ll go get the book,” Gail said, jumping up.

  Elizabeth thought Peter suddenly looked sad. “Well, it’s not the last night like this.”

  “You read my mind,” Peter said, surprised.

  “You just looked... sad all of a sudden.”

  “I didn’t know I was so transparent.”

  “You’re not, as a rule. Usually I find you enigmatic. I guess there’re no secrets with a baby on your lap.” Elizabeth plumped up a pillow on the couch, “Anyway, you have to invite us over now.”

  Gail came sailing back to the fireplace. She took Amy from Peter and handed her to Elizabeth, gave Peter the book, then put another log on the fire.

  “You really will be calling me Egor if you’re unfortunate enough to be trapped with my cooking,” Peter protested. “Especially when compared with Gail’s talents.”

  “As if we’d leave all the cooking to you!” Gail said.

  “That’s right!” Elizabeth agreed. “Remember, we know where you live. Either you invite us, or we’ll invade.”

  “
Descend,”
Gail interjected.

  “Without warning, like locusts, laden with pots and pans.”

  “And make you eat every single bite!” Gail insisted.

  “Oh, to be so lucky!” Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay then, let’s say next Friday. I’ll cook a main course and, I don’t know, some vegetables.”

  “Sounds great!” Gail said.

  Elizabeth nodded. “And I have next week-end off, so I won’t have to worry about waking up early Saturday morning.”