Galveston Read online

  I’d been out an hour or so when I heard James and Claire returning in the rig. James jumped out before they reached the barn and said, “Cousin Claire wants you to come for lunch.”

  “All right, but I’ll have to change first.”

  “No, wait. I want to take a picture of you in your dancing outfit. I haven’t got to use my camera yet, because Helga wouldn’t let me take her picture at the station.” He had the camera hanging from his shoulder by its leather strap. “Would you mind, though, if we do it on your front verandah? I’ve studied on it, and think I can get a better shot from there because of the light.”

  He wouldn’t have, I thought to myself, if I hadn’t finally persuaded Dad to cut back the giant oleanders last summer, which had for so long enclosed the porch in darkness. I’d never been able to guess why my mother would have wanted to allow them to grow to such immense proportions …

  “Now,” said James. “Do one of those things where you curve your arms around and lift your leg in back.”

  “An arabesque.”

  “Yes! You look so pretty when you do that. There now, stand up on your toes and pretend there’s an audience out there, cheering you.”

  “Good gracious, James. All right. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Yes, but don’t look directly into the camera. Look away, like out at the audience, when I take it.”

  “All right,” I said, and when I allowed my mind to wander I could almost hear the shouts of praise, conjure up the glorious feeling of performing before hundreds of adoring fans. This is how it would be, then, to …

  James clicked the camera once, then said, “I’d better take two or three more, just to be sure.” He didn’t seem to trust the little black box, and as it was a model new on the market, I didn’t much blame him. You could never guess how long some newfangled gadget would last. I hoped, for his sake, that all his pictures would turn out well.

  “All right, that’s it. I think it takes a couple of weeks to get the pictures back,” he said. “Hope the mail hasn’t been picked up yet.”

  “No, I don’t think I’ve seen the postman.”

  “You will hurry, won’t you? Claire says lunch is almost ready.”

  I should have known better than to subject myself to Claire’s prying that day. Before finishing the first course of oyster stew, I was tired of trying to satisfy her curiosity while avoiding a betrayal of myself.

  “… It was nice of you to bring your young man Nick with you last night. I suppose we’ll soon be hearing wedding bells pealing at St. Christopher’s. Perhaps I’d better bone up on raising appropriate wedding flowers in the garden.”

  “No, ma’am. We’ve no plans to marry.”

  “Oh? That’s odd, I mean, seeing you’ve been keeping company with him so steadily. At least, before this summer. We haven’t seen quite so much of him this summer as usual, have we?”

  James cleared his throat, and kept his eyes on the bowl of milky liquid in front of him.

  “Well, he has five or six students now,” I told her. “They keep him pretty busy when he isn’t practicing organ or coaching the choir.”

  “Hm. But you say you’re not serious about Nick?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there must be someone else then. After all, a girl your age, pretty as you are, must have a beau hidden somewhere. Charles used to say when you were a child, that you were so pretty some young man would snatch you away from us before you turned eighteen.”

  I looked across at her, trying to see behind the words. “No, no one.”

  “I see. Well, I wasn’t married at your age either, although James’s grandmother Betsey was, and his own mother was on the verge of marriage at nineteen, I believe.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “It’s a lovely thing, two people finding each other and striking out together. Of course … it doesn’t always work out beautifully in the end. Yet if one is careful to look for the right things in another … Ah well, dear, you don’t want to hear my philosophies on marriage, do you? By the way, you know I haven’t gotten down to the Seaside Pavilion one time this summer, to see that band play, much as I intended to after meeting Mr. Cruz. And only the other day Jassie Norton, on the gardening committee, mentioned how much she and her husband Howard had enjoyed their music this summer. Oh well, I suppose they’ll be back next year. But then, perhaps I might still go before they leave. Have you any idea when they return to New York? I had lunch with Esther Harrington last week … you know, Stuart Harrington owns the Pavilion … but I didn’t think to ask her. Wasn’t that silly?”

  “I … believe I read somewhere, less than two weeks from now. I don’t know how many performances it said between now and then.”

  “Oh? And where did you read that?”

  “I don’t know. The News, I guess, or maybe the Tribune.”

  “Funny, I didn’t notice any ads in the papers. You know, since Charles and I came here we’ve always taken the News. That paper was kind to him when Charles was running for mayor. But I do find most of the time, ads about amusements are duplicated in both papers, don’t you?”

  “I guess so. Perhaps I saw it somewhere else. I don’t remember,” I said, wondering with disgust why I hadn’t been bright enough to have told her I didn’t know, instead of allowing her an opening …

  “I know. Maybe it was The Opera Glass. Do you take that paper? Mine hasn’t been brought around in two or three weeks, and I’ve been meaning to call them. Lands, when one pays two dollars a year for something really elite and cultural, you would think they’d see it got delivered, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, Serena, I’ve been meaning to tell you how nice your skin stays—I mean, the coloring. Are you spending much time at your friend’s place lately?”

  “Some.”

  “James has been busy crabbing with that Driscoll boy, or I’m sure he’d have accompanied you down more often. That would have been nice, wouldn’t it, James?”

  James nodded and sipped his stew.

  “I don’t know why this boy prefers the company of that undertaker’s son to all the other kids around the neighborhood. You know, he comes from a long line of undertakers. What a thing to be!”

  “Someone has to do it, I guess.”

  “I suppose. When I’m gone, though, I shall fix it so there won’t be anything left for an undertaker to prepare. I’ve been having some changes made in my will lately, and I’ve had it put in that I want to be cremated. When Charles was alive he wouldn’t hear of it, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I won’t have anyone touching me after—”

  “Yes, some people prefer it that way. Everyone ought to have his choice.”

  It was stifling conversation, and something about the stew was repelling me more with every spoonful. As we proceeded along through crab salad and ice cream, I was unsure whether Claire knew what I had been doing all summer, or was only making conversation in her usual way.

  But then she did an odd thing. As we were about to leave the table, she spotted something on the windowsill behind me, and walked toward it. “A spider’s web,” she announced, slicing through it with her arm. “Busy things, spiders … they can build a web within twenty-four hours that will make it look as though you haven’t dusted your house in months. Seeing one always reminds me of the old adage, ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive’…”

  She looked at me then, and I was convinced she knew.

  “I’d better be going soon. Let me help you with these dishes,” I said.

  “Oh dear, I wouldn’t think of it. James, see Serena to the door, will you?”

  When we were out on the porch he said, “Do you think she knows?”

  “It looks as though she might. But how?”

  “Who knows?” he whispered. “I haven’t said a thing. But Helga might have been snooping. I never know where I’ll find her next, and she often peers at me when she thinks I’m not awa
re. Oh well, that’s irrevelant, no, I mean irrelevant, I always mess up that word. Helga’s gone now, and if Claire knows anything, what could she do about it anyway, except just love knowing? That’s how she is, you know.”

  “She could tell my father, and probably would.”

  “Oh. Maybe she already has.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I could tell …”

  “Yes, probably. Well, think what she said about young love, though. Maybe she thinks it’s very romantic—like a fairy tale—and hopes you’ll tell her about you and Roman so she can help.”

  “Maybe. No matter, though. Don’t act as though anything were wrong. I’ve got to talk to Roman.”

  “Serena, you’re not going to run away, are you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe I could pry it out of her.”

  “No, don’t say a thing. We might both be wrong. Perhaps she doesn’t know anything, and is just being meddlesome,” I told him, trying without much success to keep the alarm from my voice.

  Chapter 13

  Madame D’Arcy’s office is but a small nook just off the main floor of her studio. Centered there is an oversized desk, usually piled high with papers and odds and ends she never gets around to putting away. On the walls are pinned pictures of former students, many of whom have gone on to bright careers in ballet, either following their instruction from her here in Galveston, or in a studio she used to own up East somewhere, before coming here twenty years ago. There are, among the pictures, several of her, taken many years ago, when she herself was a professional dancer.

  I was gazing over the pictures on the day she asked me to wait for her after class, the same day I’d chosen to speak with her about the school in New York. I remember how it surprised me, her calling me while I was changing clothes, almost as though she’d guessed in advance I needed to speak with her.

  How foolish we look to ourselves in hindsight.

  I was anxious to tell Roman about Claire. He would be back at the Pavilion today, and I would go to him directly from the studio. The fact of Claire’s possible knowledge of our summer together made it all the more urgent I get all the loose ends tied up, get something definite worked out about what we would do. There was the slight possibility Madame would feel I was even now ready to audition in New York, and if so, I might be able to persuade Roman to take me there within a week, rather than a year from now. My stomach was churning as she entered and closed the door.

  “Serena, dear, this won’t take long,” she said, sitting down across from me and wiping the perspiration from her brow. She looked older from this distance, more gray strands showing in her dark hair, her face a little longer and thinner, her eyes not quite so bright as they seemed on the studio floor. Her firm, muscular body, though, defied the years at any distance. She put her hands together and hesitated as though she hated to begin.

  “I’ve been wondering whether you’re having some difficulty at home.”

  “No, why should you—is my dancing not good? Am I losing ground?”

  “No, no, hardly that,” she said, and looked down at her desk. “It’s your fees, dear. Your father has paid me nothing since last April, though I’ve sent many notes to his office. No answer ever comes.…”

  I could scarcely speak. “I’m sure there must be some explanation. Please forgive—oh dear, I’ll talk with my father first thing.”

  “I’m certain it must be some sort of misunderstanding, dear. I’d hoped to spare you this … put it off as long as possible. Serena, you know I adore you, feel you’re one of the most talented students I’ve ever had. If I could afford to teach you free of charge, believe me I would—”

  I rose from the chair. “Of course not. I’ll go to his office right now. I’m so sorry, I—”

  “Now, now, don’t worry. Just let me know. Nothing more need be said about it. I’m only sorry I had to come to you with this.…”

  “Please, madame, don’t apologize. Let me get it straightened out. You’re right, probably some mistake. I’ll let you know.”

  I ran all the way from the studio to Dad’s office at the church, too incredulous to think straight. He was seated inside, reading the morning mail. “Why, Nan, what a pleasant surprise. Come to ask your old Dad to lunch?”

  “No,” I said, panting. “Dad … I’ve just spoken with Madame D’Arcy. She says you haven’t paid her since April. Can … can this be true?”

  “Oh.” The color drained from his face. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid so. You see, we’ve been in a bit of difficulty lately over finances.… I’ve been intending to get a payment over to her. Perhaps I could scrape something together today.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before this happened? I was mortified. I had no idea you were in trouble financially. What has happened?”

  “Nothing at all, dear. It’s just that, well, I did have a kind of reserve fund for a while, for things such as your dancing, you know. But it has … well, dwindled, over the past year or so.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut some of the extras we’ve enjoyed, that’s all. Nothing we can’t resolve in time. I’ve been trying to figure a way of telling you, but I know dancing means such a lot to you.

  “I had an idea the other day, though,” he said, brightening. “Perhaps you might take up lawn tennis. A fellow in our parish—Ned Stevenson, do you know Ned?—is building a new court not far from here, as an experiment. But he believes the game will catch on here soon.…”

  “But, Dad …”

  “Or, if you don’t like that, you might be able to go to the YWCA. They’ve a fine gymnasium there, and you could get your exercise. I think we might be able to afford it, after I’ve paid off Madame. It’s nowhere near as expensive as the dancing lessons. I’ll go and see her today, and set up some sort of program.”

  As I listened to him I realized the mistake I’d made by never bothering to find out how we were able to afford the dancing lessons. I should have pressed him on the matter, rather than shuffling it to the back of my mind all these years. He made little as a parson, had not had an increase in wages for years, and there was Mrs. McCambridge to pay and the grocery bill, and medicines and lotions for Mother.

  “Is anything else behind?”

  “Not a thing, I assure you. The bill at Moore Brothers Grocery got out of hand for a while, but Fred Lindsay was very kind about it, and I’ve got it under control now.”

  I sat still, staring at him, wondering whether he was even now evading the truth.

  “Serena, you’ve no idea how badly I feel about this. I wouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of your teacher for anything in the world. I kept intending to send a note telling her a payment would be forthcoming, and I was going to try and get one over to her next week.”

  “I can never face her again.”

  “Yes, of course, and you needn’t. Please forgive me, darling. I’ll try and make it up to you.”

  “There is no way you ever could. I’ll see you later at home.”

  There was no question then, after our discussion, that I would have to persuade Roman to take me with him. And if he refused, I would at least not be floundering any longer. I could begin making some other plan to extricate myself from the crumbling ashes life had become. I could no longer be content to hope for the best, hoping Roman would say the right thing, hoping he would care for me in the way I cared for him. There was no choice now except to find out once and for all, and I went to him from Dad’s office with a determination greater than any I’d ever had.

  He was in a pesky mood, standing just at the edge of the surf behind the Pavilion, arms akimbo, looking out to sea. I walked up beside him silently. There are times one is better off not approaching Roman Cruz too abruptly.

  “Oh, hullo,” he said, more quickly than I’d expected.

  “It’s only me.”

  “Only you,” he repeated softly, and kept looking out to sea. I felt instinctively this day of all days was
ill timed for what I needed to say, yet at this hour of the game, one day might make a world of difference in planning. There was but a week before Roman’s train pulled out of Galveston and headed for New York.

  “Well, fair maid, how does this day find you? Shall we go for a swim now?”

  “Not now, and how I feel depends on you.”

  “Oh? Then I’m afraid you’re leaning against the wrong post. We got the final word this morning. No contract. Something about the price we demanded. Galveston is out next summer. But I’ve a strong feeling King didn’t negotiate too hard. Every year he shows a little less interest in the band. I think he’d rather keep all the engagements near New York; he’s always complaining about the long-distance traveling …”

  I was filled with hope. “Does it disappoint you?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Why?”

  “Why the hell do you think?”

  I stood still. Everything had changed. If he knew there was no coming back, my chances might be better than ever. I took a deep breath and began. “Roman, I’ve got to talk to you. It’s important.”

  “All right. Want to go upstairs?”

  “No. Things have a way of … happening … upstairs.”

  He laughed. “All right. Let’s have it then. You’ve found someone else, is that it? Going to marry that organist and settle down like a sensible girl?”

  “Stop teasing, Roman. This is serious,” I said, and looked down at the foamy water swirling around my feet, unsure what to say next. “One thing is … I think we’ve been found out.”

  “By whom?”

  “Claire Becker.”

  “The old girl who gave the dinner party? She did strike me as a busybody. How?”

  “God only knows. She’s a devious soul, and I’m sure she has ways. Not James, though. I’d almost trust that boy with my life …”

  “Careful not to ever trust anyone too far, Serena. You know, a person can only be trusted as long as it doesn’t hurt his interests to act on your behalf. Remember, people have divided loyalties. No one can be trusted completely.”

  “Yes, I seem to be finding that out this summer.… Anyway, I was all ready to come and tell you about it, to see if we couldn’t figure out something to do before she spills everything to Dad, then before another day passed something else happened. My dancing lessons are at an end. My father owes Madame quite a lot of money. She told me this morning.”