Family Dynamics (Pam of Babylon Book Five) (23 page)

“I don’t feel like walking,” Ryan said. “Let’s get some lunch.” Lisa got up to go into the kitchen.

“Mom, can you fix a sandwich? Ry’s hungry,” she said. Pam looked up at the clock. It wasn’t quite eleven, which would make it only five in the morning Hawaii time. But they’d flown all night. She could feel her
food police
mode kicking in. In times past, she’d hop up and start preparing whatever anyone wanted, being the short-order cook and then often forgetting to eat.

“Help yourself,” she said. “I don’t keep a lot of food in the house now. If I’d known you were coming, we’d be stocked up.” Lisa opened the refrigerator, ignoring her mother’s veiled reprimand. She started pulling food out and handing it off to Ryan. They stood at the counter, fixing giant sandwiches, getting lettuce and onion skins on the floor, and then leaving everything out on the counter while they went back to the veranda. Pam was quietly seething. She vacillated between admonishing herself for being so rigid and being ready to pounce on her daughter for leaving a mess. She decided to do nothing. Dan wouldn’t mind, and really, who was it hurting? She would make it an act of her will not to respond to it. She could hear her daughter arguing with Ryan about leaving. There was a soft knock on the door. She jumped up to answer, sure it was Dan. She opened the door and grabbed his hand, whispering, “Come with me” as she dragged him into her bedroom hallway. He looked around, clearly impressed with the room, then intently down at Pam.

“What’s wrong?”

“My daughter just made a surprise visit with her boyfriend,” Pam whispered. She told Dan the rest of what she knew. “You and I are not changing our plans. You can stay down here or have the guest room upstairs. I’m almost certain they are not going to stay long. I can hear them bickering now. Come out, and I’ll introduce you.” They walked out into the kitchen, and Dan saw the sandwich mess. “Oh, can I make a sandwich?”

Pam looked at him and started laughing, then explained her earlier quandary about the food being left out. “In my former life, not only would I have prepared the food, I would have cleaned everything up as I used it and returned the kitchen to photo-shoot perfection. Help yourself!” That she allowed a man who she was sincerely interested in fend for himself in the kitchen was another startling transformation.
What’s happening to me?
They talked and laughed while he prepared his lunch and then walked out to the veranda to join Lisa and her friend.

“Lisa, Ryan, this is Dan Chua, the friend I told you about,” Pam said proudly. She had forgotten about Dan’s ravishing looks and young age until she saw the looks on the faces of Lisa and Ryan. Lisa was open-mouth shocked, and Ryan looked angry, smirking and stuffing the last of his food into his mouth. Lisa stuck her hand out to shake Dan’s, and Pam thought she might have detected admiration and a little coyness. Ryan was looking at Lisa, red-faced and annoyed.

“Great to meet you, Lisa,” Dan said. “Your mom’s told me all about you and Brent.” He reached over to offer his hand to Ryan, who was licking his fingers. Dan put his hands up, laughing. “I’ll pass, thanks.” Everyone but Ryan laughed.

Lisa couldn’t believe it. She was suddenly so happy—happy her mother found someone who seemed to really like her, solicitous and doting, pulling out her chair, looking at her intently as he ate a sandwich he’d prepared himself. She never saw her father handle food except to grill steaks on the veranda or uncork a bottle of wine. Her mother was relaxed and talkative, and most astonishing, was talking about herself. This was a first. Her mother actually had an opinion and was voicing it assertively. Lisa glanced over at Ryan, who looked bored to death, ignoring the conversation swirling around him. For the first time, she felt pity for him. He was so out of place there on the beautiful veranda surrounded by fit, athletic people.

“Come on, Ryan, let’s go to New Jersey,” she said, standing up. “Mom, I love you. Dan, it was a pleasure. But my boyfriend wants to see his family today, and I’m going with him.” Pam looked Lisa in the eyes, and they exchanged smiles. She knew what her daughter was up to and was grateful; Lisa was growing up into a loving woman. She got up and reached over to hug her.

“Are you going to take your car?” Pam asked. “Of course you are. Sorry, dear.” Ryan was silent and moody; Pam felt sorry for her daughter and hoped that she would be able to see how wrong Ryan was for her. She stuck her hand out to shake Ryan’s, and he begrudgingly gave hers a weak squeeze.

“Goodbye, Ryan,” she said solemnly. Lisa giggled and hugged her again. Ryan could barely get out a “bye.” After the confusion of Lisa getting her keys and Pam moving her car out of the way, getting the luggage in the trunk, and standing on the sidewalk watching her beloved daughter roll down the driveway, Pam stood with Dan by her side, his arm around her shoulders, and they waved goodbye, smiling. Pam felt OK about their departure; she didn’t initiate it, and she had been cordial and friendly to the brooding Ryan.

“Wow, that was a close one,” she said as they walked back into the house. “I felt sorry for her friend; it was clear he was miserable here.”

“Lisa is very pretty,” Dan said. “She takes after you.”

Pam smiled up at him. “Do you feel like lying on the beach? I mean, I’ll be under an umbrella, reading a book.” He agreed, saying it sounded like a great idea. They returned to the house, Dan taking his bag and retreating to his room and Pam going in to change into her swimsuit. She decided to rid herself of former modesty and wear a suit that showed her body off. She was in shape and over fifty-five; she should flaunt it. She found a bright purple bandeau in her drawer, never worn because of its strapless design and her fear of appearing immodest.
Get over it
.

She grabbed a stack of beach towels, a large beach blanket, and her straw hat and went back out to the veranda. Dan was waiting there for her, and when he saw what she had on, he let out a long, low whistle. Pam was flattered and giggled, pleased.

“Oh, boy, how am I supposed to relax?” They hugged, and then Pam remembered her chair and umbrella. Dan got them from the garage, and they walked down the wooden path together toward the beach. There were a few people sunning, but it was early in the season, and school wasn’t out yet.

“In a few weeks, we won’t be able to stake a claim in front of my own house,” she said. They set up their camp, and Dan got right down to serious napping while Pam opened up her book. She looked out over the sun-drenched beach from the shade of her colorful umbrella. Turning, she could see just the roof of her house; the dunes rose high enough to obscure the veranda, offering some privacy unless you were standing at the top of the dune. Looking back out to sea, the gulls crying and the warmth of the early summer sun on her legs moved her beyond her present, content state of mind and took her back to another time—a time when Jack was alive.

She took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, but it wasn’t enough. Dan was softly snoring in his sleep, so she knew she was safe, and she let the tears fall. Why was this still an issue? He’d been gone for two years. He’d killed her sister by giving her AIDS. She no longer loved him. Maybe it was the years remembered, the times the children were small and she ran with them on the beach, the promise of a Friday night reunion with their father charging them with energy and excitement. She closed her eyes for a second and remembered the dream she’d had the previous night, her pillow wet with tears. It was a recurring dream in which Jack returned late from a week in the city, and she could smell the wind from his open car window when he entered their bedroom. She sensed him undressing in the dark and then getting into bed with her. She felt his arms around her kissing her neck, whispering lies into her hair. In previous dreams, she woke up aroused, the realistic lovemaking almost bringing her to orgasm in her sleep. Thankfully, last night’s dream ended before that. In this dream, Pam challenged Jack for the first time.

“You’ve lied to me,” she said. “I’ve discovered your other life.”

Jack pulled away from her, afraid to look into her eyes. “It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t love those women I only loved you, Pam, only you.” And as dreams often do, the next scene was of Jack and Sandra in Lower Manhattan at a restaurant, and Pam walked in to confront them, pushing Brent and Lisa in the stroller.

“I knew all along,” she said. “I didn’t admit it, but I knew all along.”

With the gulls crying and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, Pam understood that the dream was taunting her. She didn’t know all along. She never suspected one single thing. She may have unconsciously, but as far as being in denial? No. You have to have realization to be in denial. She may have looked the other way while Jack was fucking Marie, but she didn’t know he was doing it. She wasn’t thrilled with their relationship but didn’t know the extent to which the trouble had escalated. She wasn’t to blame. She may have been dumb, or preoccupied, but she didn’t know what he was doing. And finally, after months of self-loathing, blaming herself for everything Jack did, she found self-forgiveness there on the beach. She looked down at Dan and studied his face. He was so young! She thought of what her life had been like at forty-five: two teenagers with busy lives whom she had to run to keep up with. She wouldn’t change a thing about her life during those years, the happiest she’d ever known. She remembered the attention to detail she put into every aspect of her life back then: the perfectly executed, color-coordinated meals, her flawless appearance, even the way she approached her marriage—doing all the
right
things.

Drawing in a deep, deep breath, she could feel the result of the forgiveness in her body. Looking around the beach, she wondered if she would have to leave the house. Was the momentary slide into despair due to the surroundings? Too many memories embedded in one square acre of land. She looked back at the house again, at the perfect roofline with the copper weathervane of a sailing ship atop it. Jack had brought it back from the city on the train. She would never forget the look on his face when he jostled it through the garage and placed it on the kitchen table.

“You didn’t bring that home on the train,” Pam said.

“The hell I didn’t! I almost impaled another rider,” he said, laughing. They stood out on the beach together, watching as workers mounted it on the center of the roof. Pam loved it; it was the largest vane she had seen, and you could see it for almost a mile down the beach, towering above even the most ostentatious beach mansion. Happily, that memory didn’t pinch. If she did sell, it would only be because she was unable to move on with her own life. She glanced down at handsome Dan again. He had a chiseled jaw. The thought made her smile; it was a cliché. She allowed a glance down his body, too.
He is a perfect specimen
, she giggled to herself. Shoulders beyond broad, a muscular chest, he had just a faint trail of black hair on his stomach that traveled under the waist of his bathing trunks to parts unknown. She couldn’t help it, but as she imagined where it ended up, a twinge in her crotch negated her resolve to stay in control.

“Hey! I can’t believe you are on the beach!” It was Jeff Babcock, there to save the day. Pam sprung up out of her chair and hugged him. Dan awoke and sat up to shake Jeff’s hand. “Sorry to wake you, buddy,” Jeff said. Dan laughed, shaking the sleep out of his eyes.

“No, I’m glad you did. Sorry, Pam! That was rude,” he said. They invited Jeff to join them. For the next hour, the threesome swam, walked on the beach, and talked. Pam forgot about Jack for the rest of the day.

Chapter 27

N
elda was the first in the family to hear about Steve. She was settled comfortably in her room at The Eagle’s Nest, with Bernice in an adjoining room. Usually the center of attention, today Bernice was playing nurse, waiting on Nelda, who was confined to bed until her head wound healed. She’d gone down to the dining room and brought back a tray of tea and cookies—not exactly what her cook used to serve at the mansion, but nice. After giving Nelda her tea, Bernice switched on the TV. It was time for the local news.

“I like this newscaster,” Nelda said, referring to the middle-aged woman reading from a teleprompter. Bernice agreed and then shushed Nelda.

“Look, someone went off the Commodore Barry Bridge in New Jersey.” They clicked their tongues and shook their heads. “Listen.”

“We reported on this accident earlier but couldn’t divulge the name of the victim until his nearest relatives were notified. Manhattan resident Steven Marks died Friday when his two-thousand-three Honda Civic was rear-ended by a semi-trailer truck as it was going over the bridge. Witnesses said the truck was tailgating Marks, who seemed unaware. The impact sent the car flying over the side of the bridge, plunging into the Delaware. Several motorists stopped to see if they could help, but they were unable to reach the car. Mr. Marks died on impact.” Nelda was in shock.
Steve? Where was the baby?
She began shaking uncontrollably, frightening Bernice, who frantically called for the nurse. She came running with an aide, ready to lower the head of Nelda’s bed in case she was having a seizure.

“I’m OK! Please!” she yelled.

“She just found out her son-in-law died,” Bernice explained, deciding it unnecessary to go into any more explanation. Steve was as good a son-in-law as any. He’d played cards with the two older ladies, gotten drunk with them, and bused Bernice back and forth to the nursing home. Bernice realized she’d miss him, too. The nurses tried to comfort Nelda, but her main concern was finding out who had the baby.
Was Miranda in the car with Steve?
She started screaming, “Please, find out who has Miranda! Was she in the car, too?” Just then, she remembered Pam told her Sandra had the baby when she visited her in the hospital. She began to weep. “I’m so sorry! I think a friend has her. My daughter told me, and I forgot.” She lowered her head and began to sob. The nurse left the room to see if Nelda’s doctor had ordered an “as needed” sedative. She would benefit from a little Ativan.