Monday, Monday: A Novel (12 page)

“He’s not hiding, if that’s what you’re saying.”

He looked around. “Where is he?”

“I’m not going to listen to that,” she said. “You can say whatever else you want, but don’t talk about him like that.”

He studied her, weighing the fact of her loyalty. “It’s his loss not to marry you. But the baby needs a father. We can find a good home. And you have plans, Shelly. You didn’t survive that shooting for nothing. You need to do what’s right, and then go on with your life.”

She looked him in the eye. She wasn’t interested in her life. She would just as soon it was over.

13

WHAT JACK SAID

Wyatt struggled for days about what to do. In the studio where he had painted Shelly, he pored over the photographs he had taken of her for the portrait. He spoiled his work in progress: a painting of a steep cliff, an oak tree with massive roots clinging to layers of sedimentary rock. Reckless with emotion, he brushed pigments that were too bright over his subtle colors until the ochers turned orange and the shimmering celadons were buried under a garish green.

Outside, the rain kept falling. The ground was saturated and the bark on the trees turned black. Leaves bounced and thrashed, pounded by the deluge. Wyatt drove toward Lockhart, intending to go to Shelly’s house and find a way to see her. He was halfway there when he saw Nate’s small shoes on the floorboard and turned the car around.

He arrived home after dark and found Elaine in bed smoking a cigarette. The light was on, and Nate was sleeping in the crib. Elaine smiled. “Guess what happened. My parents called. They have a three-year lease on a house in Provincetown that they’re not going to be using most of the year. So if we want to move there, rent-free for a while, we can. If you ask me, it’s perfect. So many artists live there.” She tapped the cigarette into an ashtray nestled in the covers. “It might be a big break for you. And I’d be closer to home. Mom and Dad could spend time with Nate.”

He tried not to reveal his shock with any gesture or change in expression. He could think of nothing to say. This had come from nowhere. He couldn’t imagine being so far from Shelly. And yet Elaine looked so hopeful—so pleased.

“It’s a remarkable offer,” he stammered. “But a big imposition on your parents.”

“They want us to take them up on it.”

“I think we’re better off here,” he said. “We have more independence.”

“We don’t even have an extra car. How independent is that?”

“There’s a good chance they’ll hire me on the faculty here—”

She was shaking her head. “Think about it—a town full of artists and a house for free. You can’t tell me you’d rather be here. Do you know how many galleries there are in Provincetown? I’ve only been there a couple of times, but that’s what I remember—the art galleries. And we’d only be three hours from my parents. We’d be crazy not to do this.” Putting out the cigarette, she waited.

She was right about one thing: Moving to Provincetown could be the turning point in his career. He could build a reputation and make some money. And send money to Shelly, to help her with the baby. He could get his footing, and then the options would widen. But he couldn’t imagine making this move.

“It wouldn’t have to be forever,” Elaine said.

He sat on the bed and pulled his shoes off.

“And it’s beautiful, with the water.” She said this softly, enticingly. “Wyatt, don’t you think we should go?”

She spoke so seriously that he almost wondered if she might know about Shelly. He almost wished that she did, that she would release him from the smothering burden of lies he had heaped on their marriage.

“It would be a cool place for Nate,” she said.

He knew he should pull her into his arms and keep her there as long as it might take to forget about Shelly. She was a smart and beautiful woman and deserved to have a husband who was in love with her.

He got up and looked at Nate asleep in the crib. The wispy brown hair of babyhood had grown long enough to make soft curls at the nape of his neck. He had fallen asleep holding on to a rung of the crib, and Wyatt studied his face and stroked the little knuckles. Finally he said, “Do you mind if I take a drive? And think about this?” He started putting his shoes on.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” But she didn’t sound as if it was.

He drove to Jack and Delia’s garage apartment and sloshed his way heedlessly through oily puddles in the gravel driveway. The rain had stopped and the night was muggy. He climbed the steps and knocked. Jack answered the door.

“Can you come out and talk?”

They sat on the wet wooden steps. Wyatt dropped his head and stared down between his knees. “You were right about what you thought,” he said. “I’m in love with someone.”

On the radio in the apartment, Johnny Cash was singing “A Boy Named Sue.” Delia appeared at the top of the steps and invited Wyatt in for cherry pie. He looked up at her, and when she saw his anguished face, she went back inside.

“Who?” Jack said in a toneless voice.

“Shelly Maddox. And she’s pregnant. I found out a few days ago.”

Jack said nothing.

“Elaine doesn’t know anything,” Wyatt said. “And Shelly says she’s going to raise the baby alone. She doesn’t want me to leave Elaine. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do. And now Elaine just told me we have an offer to move to Provincetown. To a house her parents would let us use. But I don’t see how I can go and leave Shelly here with a baby. Quit looking at me like that.”

“I guess Shelly’s parents must appreciate the hell out of you now.”

“Fuck you,” Wyatt said, and sank his head onto his arms and stared at his muddy feet in buffalo sandals on the wet, rickety step. “I feel like such a cheat and a liar.”

“You are a cheat and a liar.”

Wyatt raised his head and looked at him. “Goddamn it, I came to you and—”

“And what? What do you want? You’ve fucked up.”

“I want you to hear me out.”

“Well what else do you have to say?”

Wyatt stared at him, then got up and started down the steps. He was almost to the bottom when Jack spoke from behind him. “If Shelly was willing, maybe Delia and I could take the baby.”

Wyatt drew in a breath of sodden air before he turned to look at Jack.

It was nearly an hour later when they climbed the steps and went inside to talk to Delia. Jack went into the bedroom to get her, and she came out wearing her jeans under her gown. The room was filled with the scent of freshly baked pie. The windows were open into the summer night. Jack turned the radio off, and they sat around a coffee table. Delia waited, puzzled, looking from one to the other.

“You should do the talking,” Jack told Wyatt.

He did it the best he could.

14

A KNOCK AT THE DOOR

Shelly was at her parents’ house the next day, watching
The Edge of Night,
when she heard the knock. She didn’t get up from the couch because there was no one she wanted to see. She was sick from the pregnancy and relieved to have solitude while her mother was at the beauty parlor.

But the knocking continued.

Finally she got up and stood in the narrow hall of the little house and stared at the door. “Who is it?”

“Shelly, it’s me.”

She pulled the door open and there was Wyatt, standing where she had never thought he would be.

“Where can we talk?” he asked her.

He shouldn’t be here, and yet she loved him for coming. She threw herself into his arms and led him into the front room, where they stood in the corner and held each other until Shelly pulled away.

“I told my parents, and they want me to give the baby up for adoption, but I’m not going to,” she said. “I haven’t told them you’re the father.”

“Oh God, Shelly. You can’t do this on your own.”

“I have to. There’s not any other way.”

“There might be another way.”

“Of course there’s not. What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He couldn’t seem to say it.

“What?”

“Jack and Delia could take the baby.”

“Take the baby? What are you talking about?”

“If you’re willing, they want to adopt the baby.”

“You asked them to do that, without talking to me?”

“When I told Jack you were expecting—”

“You told Jack?”

“Yes. And then … he offered…”

“To take the baby?”

“Yes.”

“To take it off my hands? Like a favor? I can’t believe you’re saying this. It’s not a favor.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“They can have their own babies.”

“Actually, Shelly, they can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“They can’t. They’ve been talking about adopting. I told Jack what had happened, and then we talked to Delia. She thought about it for a day, and then … then she said she would love to do this. It could be the right thing, Shelly. They would be the perfect parents. I know you don’t want to give the baby up, and I’m not going to try to talk you into that if it’s not right. But please think about it; it could be the best choice for you as well as the baby.”

He put his arms around her, and she felt his heart thumping, and felt his chest heave. He whispered, “But if you don’t want to do this, I’ll come up with something else.”

“You don’t have any money for anything else.” She thought of the motel room. The fan revolving over the bed. Wyatt making love with her. She remembered the ferry crossing to Port Aransas, how the flocks of gulls had hovered in the wind and lifted bread from his fingers.

“And there’s something else I need to tell you,” he said, drawing back to look at her. “I might need to move to Massachusetts—to Provincetown—not forever, just for a while. Elaine’s parents have a house they’ve offered to let us stay in, and she wants to go, and I don’t have a reason to tell her I won’t. You’re my only reason. And if I go, I might be able to get things started with my work and send some money for the baby.”

“What are you saying? That you’re going to move?” She waited for him to deny this, but he didn’t. “For how long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to go. But if we can’t see each other—”

“We can’t.” She heard a car turn into the drive, and pulled the curtains back to see who it was. “My Dad’s here. Go out the door in the kitchen.”

“No—I’m not leaving like that.”

“You need to go. He doesn’t know it’s you.”

“I’m not going to.”

They listened to the car door close, and then her father walked in. He was carrying mail from the mailbox. He paused when he saw Wyatt, and then he shut the door behind him, set the mail on the hall table, and stood looking at the two of them. Shelly could see that he understood exactly who Wyatt was.

Wyatt said, “Hello, sir.”

When her father finally spoke, his voice was less harsh than she expected. “She didn’t tell me it was you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Wyatt took a deep breath, looked at Shelly and then at her father again. “I just came to give her a phone number.”

“Your phone number?”

“Not mine—”

“Whose, then?”

Wyatt hesitated, and Shelly said, “He’s here because Jack Stone and his wife offered to adopt the baby. Not that I’m going to do that, but—”

“I wouldn’t want her to do it unless that’s what she wanted,” Wyatt added. “But I needed to tell her they had asked. I won’t defend what I’ve done, but Jack and Delia are good people. He’s my cousin; I’ve known him all my life. I’ve never known a better person. And his wife would be an excellent mother. Sir, I love your daughter. I want you to know that, and to let your wife know how sorry I am for what I’ve done. I would marry Shelly if I could.”

Her father looked at Wyatt in silence for a long time, and Shelly couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Yes, I believe that,” he finally said. “I believe you would.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But you should go now.”

“I was wondering if I could talk to her in private for a minute.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Dad, I want to talk to him,” Shelly said. “I need to.”

Finally he nodded at Wyatt. “My best to you, son.” He turned and walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Can we talk in my car?” Wyatt asked Shelly.

She wanted to say yes, to get in his car and drive away with him and never look back. But she shook her head. “That would just make it harder. We can talk here. There’s nothing we need to say. I don’t want to give the baby up. I just don’t. You seem to think that keeping it would ruin my future. What future? It’s not like I can go on with my life as if this didn’t happen. All I want to think about is what’s best for the baby.”

“Can I at least give you Jack’s number?” He didn’t take his eyes from hers. “In case you change your mind?”

Reluctantly, she took the scrap of paper on which he had written the number.

“I know it’s your decision. I want you to think about yourself as well as the baby,” he said.

If she thought about herself, she would still keep the child. It was the only thing to tie her to Wyatt in any way that was possible—even if she never saw Wyatt again. It was the only thing she had left.

She had started to cry.

“Oh, Shelly, God. I can’t stand myself.”

“Don’t feel that way because of me. I love you so much.”

“Please, can’t we talk in the car?”

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him standing in front of her. “I wish you would just walk out.”

“Look at me, Shelly.”

“No. I mean it. I want you to go.”

“I won’t go like this.”

“I’m asking you to.”

“I’m going to come back for you. I’m going to find some way to do that.”

She opened her eyes. “Don’t say that to me. I don’t want to be waiting. If I start waiting, I’ll never stop. I want you to say you won’t come back. Because both of us know you can’t—”

“Shelly—”

“I want you to say it and mean it. We both know it’s true. I don’t want false hope—you can have it if you want it, but for me it would only make things harder. I would be waiting for you to write, or call me—”

He took her in his arms, and she buried her face against him as her tears streamed down. “Please,” she begged him, “be honest with me that it’s over.”