The Incredible Charlie Carewe (34 page)

“Thank goodness.”

“Well!” exclaimed Virginia. “We actually got off the subject of Charlie for a moment!”

Gregg nodded, agreeing, “Isn’t it terrible—what he does to the limits of conversation. Because he’s so unpredictable, everyone is on guard and strained and anxious.”

Virginia’s eyes clouded again. “You know, Gregg, he might take a notion to take John away somewhere with him. He has a perfect right, you know.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get to that. You’re a bit slow today, my dear.” He smiled a little. “And . . .” he prodded.

“And what! What can we
do
, Gregg! How can you tell a boy that his image, his dream, is a delusion. Besides being his father, Charlie’s like no other man he ever met. Most of the men—and women—he’s known are dawn-to-dusk work horses. Good, solid—and dull, God bless ’em. Charlie—well,
sparkles
in comparison. He’s blown the kid’s ego up till he’s getting cocky and fresh. That palsy-walsy phrase, ‘You astonish me, young feller!’—ugh! if he says it once more, I’ll——”

“What—you’ll what, Virginia?” Gregg urged again.

“I don’t know.” Dismally, she folded her arms. “If we’re to help John, we’ve got to keep him
liking
us—why, can you imagine what would happen if I ever blew my top in front of them? Charlie would raise his eyebrows and widen his eyes and say, ‘Why, Virgie love, what
is
the matter!’ and John would take his cue from him, and they’d go off snickering together.”

“We could work a subtle campaigning job—undermine him at every opportunity—and I don’t mean with anything but the truth. Surely we’re intelligent enough to do that.”

Virginia shook her head vigorously. “Gregg, that would be fatal! Suppose we succeeded—suppose we really went after Charlie—take something we know is a lie—and have him prove it——”

“For instance——”

Impatiently Virginia said, “Oh, don’t pin me down, Gregg—what I’m trying to say is that even if we did prove Charlie wrong, or a liar, I think John is going to be one of those unfortunates who’ll defend him, find an excuse for him. We’ll find him breaking out in a rash of loyalty that’s even worse than this puppy-dog devotion.”

“I know. You can ‘do a job’ on a person—alienate him from someone he loves—but eventually he’ll hate you for it even if you’ve been right.”

“So—where are we? Absolutely no place.”

Gregg got up and walked about, using the length of the log for a pacing area. “You see, Virginia? This is what I mean. I’m not asking for sympathy or making excuses, but this is the kind of bind I’ve been in for so many years. The only difference is that there are three of us now—Walter and you and I—who know what Charlie can do.”

“And Mavis too—— why, Gregg!” She almost exploded. “You know what John says about her—that she’s quiet, that she ‘doesn’t care,’ that she never told him anything?”

“Yes. It always sounded as though she were kind of a dumb peasant type.”

“Dumb peasant type my foot! I’ll bet that whatever happened between her and Charlie—well, it was again an accumulation of little things. And if she told about any single one of them, why, it would just sound too petty for words!”

Gregg looked at her approvingly. “Obviously she’s never said a word against Charlie, or John would have shown some kind of suspicion.”

“Probably. But more than that—and of course, I’m just guessing now—what must it have been like for her to see a child growing, looking more and more every day like the man she ran away from—in fear, in disgust, bewilderment—whatever it was? In spite of herself, she may not have loved her son as much as she wished she could.”

“I have a hunch you’re right. It would explain a lot of things about John. Why he’s so anxious to please, why he’s so adaptable. Most boys would have hated being uprooted—a temporary adventure would have been exciting, but the more permanent things appear to him—like his own room, his own chores, things that make him feel needed—the happier he seems to be—
seemed
, I suppose I should say. Because the way he is now—it’s a kind of intoxication, a pink cloud.”

“Well—I wouldn’t mind seeing him come out of
that
—but we can’t just let him be destroyed in the process! I had hoped that time itself would change Charlie——”

“Doesn’t look as if it’s going to, does it? Maybe when he gets around seventy, the very lack of vitality will do what nothing else could accomplish.”

They stopped talking, both of them engrossed in the picture of Charlie as a mellow old gentleman, and then Virginia said impatiently, “I’m thirsty—are we anywhere near the spring?” She looked around to orient herself.

“No,” answered Gregg. “But I promised you a soda, didn’t I? If you’re not particular about your stockings we can cut through here to the highway—or would you just rather walk on back home?’

“I think so—let’s go back. I’m suddenly very tired. I don’t think there is anything in the world more fatiguing than frustration.”

“It’s made an old man out of me.” He caught Virginia’s quick glance, and then she bent to brush the dust from her skirt. “I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly, “but I could have. I see you did hear me!”

“I heard you, Gregg. I’m not deaf. Nor quite an idiot. All these years, no talk about romances. And I would have been the logical person for you to confide in—nothing but a stony smiling face when anybody kidded you about marriage. I don’t know when I first thought of the possibility—if I ever did. Because there has always been such a complete, comfortable, affectionate relationship between us. You have been a loved friend to me, Gregg.”

Gregg waited till he was sure of his voice. “There have been some pretty bad times, as I’m sure you understand. I’ve felt sorry for myself—plenty. Love is something one doesn’t have much to say about. Especially when it develops out of admiration and respect. And often, I think the word that came to my mind was ‘trapped’!” He laughed, shortly. “Because, try as I might, I had to accept the fact that no other woman had any appeal for me. Oh hell, let’s talk about something else, can’t we?”

Virginia laughed, kindly. “You’re doing the talking, Gregg.”

“I want to keep your friendship—and I’ll wreck it if I make love to you; we’ll lose the easy companionship which we have. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said this much!”

“Please, Gregg, don’t apologize. More than anything we’re friends—we could always talk—about anything. You can’t help what you feel any more than I can help the fact that Jeff’s image is still strong and clear——”

They both stopped in their tracks at the sound of a shot.

“What the devil——” said Gregg. Then there was another and, quickly, a third.

“Sounds like a rifle,” said Virginia.

“Two rifles—those last two were from a different direction.”

“But who could it be? Nobody’s got permission to do any hunting this time of the year.”

“Maybe it’s somebody who doesn’t need permission——”

Virginia looked at him quickly, frowning. “Charlie, you mean? And John? Oh, God, Gregg, somebody ought to be with them! Charlie’s a lousy shot—and anything could happen!”

They started sprinting, Gregg in the lead. There was another shot and Gregg said as he stopped, “Hold it, Virginia, we’re getting too close. Whoever it is can’t see us, and if we get in range——” He cupped his hands. “Hello-o-o,” he shouted. As if in answer there were two quick reports. “Damned idiots,” said Gregg. “Here, let’s duck behind this tree——”

“I’m scared, Gregg.”

’Well, certainly! So am I! How do we know which way those guns are pointing!”

“Charlie!” shouted Virginia. They waited a moment in the shelter of the trunk of the big oak.

“They seem to have stopped.”

“Can you hear us, Charlie?” called Gregg.

“Yo! Where are you!” answered Charlie’s voice.

“Here! Hold your fire, will you!”

“Well, come on out—nobody’s going to hurt you!”

In a moment, from behind some bushes in the distance, Charlie appeared, his gun in the crook of his arm, with John a little behind him.

As they met, Charlie said, “Well, what are
you
two doing in the woods? Spring is here, eh!”

Gregg didn’t reply to his inference, but said to John, “John, did you check with your grandfather about this? You know it’s strictly out of season.”

“Knock it off, Gregg,” laughed Charlie. “We’re just doing a little target practice, aren’t we, Johnnie boy?” He winked broadly. “ ’Course if a nice fat quail got in the way——”

John’s face was troubled. “I thought we should have asked him, Dad!”

“What for! It’s my property, you know!”

“Since
when
, Charlie!” Virginia snapped. She was still trembling a little from nervousness.

He was about to reply, when John moved like lightning, yelling, “Dad!”

Charlie had dropped his rifle to his side and was about to lean on it like a cane, muzzle up. John knocked the barrel backward, away from him, and picked it up by the butt as it fell. “You could get yourself killed that way, you know!” he said, breathing hard.

“Well, for Christ’s sake! Where did you learn that! Telling me off! Who the hell do you think you are anyway!”

John had turned white at the sound in Charlie’s voice. The momentum of his temper carried him on. Virginia was about to protest when Gregg grabbed at her wrist. “Let it happen!” he whispered.

“The big woodsman, hey! Know all about guns. Well, I’ll teach you to brag! You missed three shots in a row back there. Perfect targets.”

“They were doves! Nesting! I didn’t want to hit them!” John was sobbing, choking on his words.

“And now you’re lying. You know you can’t hit the side of a barn! How about that!” He turned to Gregg and Virginia, who were standing perfectly still, without expression. “My own son, lying! Why, you little——” His arm went back as if to strike the boy, when Gregg stopped him with a sharp “Charlie! Now just a minute!” and then continued quietly:

“Why don’t we have a test of marksmanship instead of all this, what do you say?” He turned to John, who was staring at them with enormous eyes. Gregg pointed. “Just over the rise there is the beach. We can see clearly, and there are a lot of stones. We’ll build some targets and settle this to everybody’s satisfaction.” He was already moving, leading the way, without again referring to Charlie.

Together, Gregg and John set up some cats-on-a-fence with stones at the high-water line.

Virginia remained in the shade of a clump of pine at the edge of the woods. Charlie had slumped onto the sand, watching Gregg and John with a surly expression, his arms folded around his knees. As they approached him, John smiled at him a little fearfully, and apologetically.

“Let’s go back a ways, Dad, this is too close.”

“Too close! Wow, get
him!
Why, even I couldn’t hit those rocks from here.”

“Well, maybe I can’t either, Dad, but I’m going to try. I’m going to try awfully hard!” And the choked sound came into his voice again. He turned on his heel and led the way, with Charlie deriding every yard.

John didn’t speak again till he was a few feet from the spot where Virginia stood. “This’ll be about right,” he said, almost to himself.

Charlie said, “Fellow I know had a beautiful skeet range right in his back yard, you might say—spends all his spare time blamming away at those saucers.”

John missed the first shot, fired again, and hit it.

Gregg and Virginia both applauded. “Wonderful! Good shot, John.”

Charlie said, “Did he hit it? Oh, swell! Virginia, you know the people I’m talking about. The McLaughlins—you and Jeff went out with me and Zoë for a weekend once.”

In rapid succession John knocked over the remaining five “cats.” It was beautiful shooting, accurate, deliberate, and swift.

Frowning a little at the noise which had interrupted him, Charlie went on, “I always liked Dodie, Mac’s wife. She always said it was worse than being a golf widow, that she didn’t see what fun it was shooting at a stack of saucers. Honestly, Mac would get some of his cronies out on Sunday, and they’d spend the
entire
day out on the range.”

There were polite half-smiles on the faces of Virginia and Gregg, but Gregg turned to John and gave him an approving wink.

John said, “Shall we set ’em up again, Gregg?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Gregg, and putting an arm around the boy’s shoulders, said, “That was magnificent—I think you made your point.”

“What point?” asked Charlie pleasantly. “Oh sure, that’s pretty good for a boy of your age. You astonish me, young feller. I haven’t seen old Mac for a couple of years now,” he continued as he turned back to Virginia.

Gregg steered John, and they walked a few feet ahead of Virginia and Charlie back in the direction of the house.

“Do you suppose he’s still mad at me, Gregg?”

“I don’t think so, John. He gets very unreasonable sometimes, but he forgets about it in a minute.”

“That’s funny, isn’t it?” John said, musingly. “When I get mad, I stay mad, and it makes me kind of sick. I guess I just startled him when I grabbed his gun like that—but it did scare me. It’s a tenderfoot stunt, like carrying a knife by the blade.”

“How long have you handled a gun, John?”

“Since I was eight—gosh, I
hope
Dad isn’t mad at me. I don’t want him to change his mind about taking me to New York.”

A flock of sea gulls, sunning themselves on the bright sand, took off lazily at their approach. A black spot in the distance, preceded by a small flapping pink flag, grew larger.

“Here comes Deinos—come on, boy, that’s a fella!”

“When, John? When is he taking you to New York?”

“Oh, he said Sunday night, maybe. Just for a week or two. He’s going to take me to Staten Island on the ferry and see the Statue of Liberty. Hey, cut it out, Deinos!” The dog was leaping on his short legs, trying to get a grip on John’s jacket. “He said we’d take the train down to Boston and fly to New York from there. Gosh, can you believe it—I’ve never been up in a plane! Hey, Dad!” he said, turning and walking backward to face him. “Do you think I’ll get sick in the plane?”