The Whiskey Sea Page 15

  He smiled wryly. “Honor? You don’t know me all that well. I haven’t always been so nice.” He paused. “But maybe you bring out the best in me.”

  She loved those words. “It has to be in there to begin with. Honor. Goodness. It can’t be faked.”

  Taking her hands in his, he said, “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  They had a nightcap on the Lower East Side at The Back of Ratner’s, which was entered through a hidden passage. The place was packed. Scents Frieda had never encountered before were worn so heavily on some of the women that they overcame the odor of burning cigarettes and cigars. Teacups holding cocktails came together in clinks and mixed with the sounds of confident laugher and smooth jazz.

  Later, looking back, she would think of herself as standing at the edge of the unknown, and slipping . . . yet not caring. Bea and Silver entered her mind, but she pushed them aside. When Princeton produced a key that led into the loveliest brick row house—he called it a townhouse—she’d ever seen, she did nothing to protest. He said it belonged to his parents, who were away in the Hamptons for the summer, and so they would be completely alone.

  The place had a rich, dark sophistication. Inside, thick carpets overlaid marble floors and looked as if they’d been transported from the Orient. There were heavy wooden doors, and a massive chandelier in the dining room so lovely, it was as if all the stars in heaven had been captured inside its glinting flares of light.

  When he opened his arms, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to enter that wonderful space. Frieda knew where this was leading. He wanted to make love to her. Even her secret fantasies had never taken her this far. She had never reached the wedding and wedding-night phase. A wedding was supposed to take place before this, wasn’t it? She remembered one of the girls at school saying, “Never give it all away without a ring on your finger.” That was what other people held as good advice. But when had she ever listened to advice? A sudden memory of her mother flashed unbidden into her mind. Her mother had given it all away, even selling herself in the end, and where had it gotten her? Her mother wouldn’t want her to do this. Was she becoming a typical innocent swept away by a hopeless romance, a sad cliché? Was this perhaps the same way her mother had begun to fall? Had impulse triumphed over reason?

  She waited for reason, conscience, or fear—something—to speak to her and stop her, but when Princeton kissed her, all that spoke was a drumbeat of previously unknown needs and cravings. It would take an act of God to stop her now. All thoughts and concerns fell away.

  He led her to the bedroom, undressed her, and said, “Why, you’re lovely, Frieda. Just lovely.”

  Running his hands through her hair from her brow to the base of her neck, he pulled her to him for her second startling kiss and feel of him and then led her to bed. Was this sin? It didn’t feel like it.

  She knew nothing of how to proceed, and so she followed where he took her. As he touched her, he told her he loved her skin, and she explored his body as he explored hers, discovering the foreign feeling of a man’s contours. He used a rubber, something she’d seen only once before, and that had been a twisted and yellowish thing washed up on the beach. When he realized that she’d never lain with a man before, he seemed momentarily disconcerted. He shifted away from her.

  “I thought . . .” Frieda began, “that a man would be happy.”

  He had been focusing on the ceiling, but he turned back to her. “Of course,” he said. “I sometimes forget that you’re just a kid really. I’m a fool.” Then a few minutes later, with a stroke of his finger across her cheek and down to her chin he said, “A fool for you.”

  She tucked her head into his neck and breathed in the scent of him, not believing her luck, but also briefly worrying again that perhaps this was all happening too fast—this was her first time, and she was giving her virginity to a man who had yet to say, “I love you.” But he kept kissing her and stroking her, and then she didn’t care any longer. Outside, the sound of a violin; in here, the smell of rosewater sprinkled on spotless white sheets. He rose above her, and she lived fully in the moment, her arms on his back, tracing the straight bones of his spine, stroking his polished skin, feeling his breath on her face.

  When it was over, she said into the darkness as he spooned his body behind her, “I want to call you Charles from now on.”

  He snuggled closer. “As you wish, my love.”

  In the morning she awakened with morning light in her eyes; the day had never felt so true, bright, and close. The light was sharp and clear, as if magnified, and the sky beyond the windows was bluer than blue. She rubbed her eyes and realized she had awakened in a different skin. For the first time she felt like a young woman. Not an older sister, a mechanic, or a rumrunner, but plain and simple a woman.

  As they readied for the day ahead, uncertainty about the future and the reality of what she had done came crashing over her. In one night her strong facade was all undone. The walls she’d built up had been shattered. She had left her feelings to his mercy, and this was not where she had ever expected to be. Hard to believe that this was her life, that these were her feelings. But Charles was the same as before, taking her to a breakfast place he knew. He read the paper and ate with gusto, then reached over, took her hand and kissed it, and the gesture left her thirsty with optimism.

  “So what’s your verdict on the city?” he asked her.

  “I’m surprised, but I like it. It was a lovely night.” She remembered everything. The night on the town had been wonderful, but what came after made it pale in comparison. She remembered the gentleness of how it began, followed by the passion she’d never experienced before. Nothing to shield themselves from each other. She had been so busy absorbing every inch of him that she hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the emotional aftermath. Even a flash of remembrance of their night together brought on a strange pulling sensation in her pelvis. She could love him that way for the rest of her life.

  “No regrets?” he said as he held her hand and raised it to his lips again.

  “No regrets.”

  He went back to his newspaper; then a few minutes later he pointed to an advertisement. “My father invested in this bank.”

  Frieda thought for a moment and then said, “I don’t trust banks.”

  He let the newspaper fall onto the table. “You don’t trust banks? Then where do you keep your money?”

  “In the house.”

  He shook his head once as if jolted. “Frieda dearest, I know you’re making a great deal of money these days. It should be in a bank, not under your mattress for God’s sake.”

  Frieda bristled. But truth was that she had at first kept the money under the mattress where Silver slept. Lately, however, she’d moved it to a few old jars she kept in the back of the closet, secreting it away from Silver more than anyone else. If he had the ability, he might throw that dirty money away. “I’ll have you know it’s not under my mattress. I have a more creative spot than that.”

  “Do you realize that if you were robbed, all would be lost? Doesn’t that concern you? With all those shady characters down by the docks, it’s not a place I’d exactly call secure.”

  A rod shot up Frieda’s spine. “There’s nothing wrong with where I live. We’ve never been robbed. Not once.”

  “Don’t take offense, dearest. But that’s a lot of money to lose.”

  “Better than turning it over to a bank and trusting it to someone else.”

  “Nothing’s ever going to happen to the banks.”

  “Well, you take your chances on the banks; I’ll take my chances on a place where I can put my hands on it.”

  He studied her with curiosity and then picked up the paper again. “Well.” He sighed. “I always said I wanted a girl with her own ideas.”

  They relaxed for a short while longer and then retraced their path back to Highlands. On the ferry ride the swells were silky, the sk
y pristine and blue, the air fresh. She had to give herself strict silent orders not to choke on joy or break out in smiles and laughter.

  When they pulled up in front of the house, Bea was standing on the porch, her arms crossed. Wearing an old dress, she looked angry and unhappy, and an immediate tension hung in the air of the sun-filled, steaming morning, so Charles gave Frieda a quick kiss good-bye and she let herself out of his car.

  Bea’s face was brooding.

  Frieda said, “Where’s Silver?” It was almost noon and a beautiful day. He should have been out there on the porch.

  “He feels sick.”

  A sudden fear clenched Frieda’s stomach. “Is he ill?” He had taken sick, and she hadn’t been here.

  Bea narrowed her eyes. “He’s sick to his stomach over you! When you didn’t come back last night, we were sick with worry. I walked all the way to the phone at the drugstore to call the police, but then I thought, what will I tell them? My sister has gone to the city with a man she barely knows and didn’t come home? They would’ve laughed at me. You’re an adult, but you’re acting like a child. Like an idiot! What have you done?”

  She had convinced herself that Bea and Silver wouldn’t have worried about her, because she stayed out late on runs all the time. But of course they would’ve expected her to return at some point last night. They knew she wasn’t working, that she had been out with a man they didn’t know, so naturally they had been concerned. She hadn’t thought it through. Frieda walked softly to the porch steps. She took a step closer, holding the clutch purse that Bea had loaned her in front of her, and a force pulled the words from her gut.

  “I think I love him, Bea.”

  Bea’s voice lowered just an iota, but her anger was still burning. “Love—ha! What would you know of love? You’ve never even been on a date before. You’ve never had a beau. There are people in this town who think you prefer women, or that you’re just incapable of preferring anything except your own sour company. You don’t know anything about love. But you’ve managed to scare me to death and make us worry all night. Did it even occur to you that we would be out of our minds?”

  Frieda blinked into the blinding light. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  Frieda shielded her eyes with the flat of her hand. “I’m sorry. I drank—”

  “I don’t want to hear this!” Bea shouted. She stormed inside. Frieda followed her and glanced at Silver, who sat on the sofa, a small towel in his lap, some bread crumbs on his lips. His eyes sad. So sad. Perhaps after hearing Bea’s harsh words and witnessing her anger, he could find only sorrow in his heart for Frieda.

  She went to his side and took his good hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed out all night. But I’m fine.”

  Bea called her name from the bedroom.

  As soon as Frieda entered, Bea started up again. “I’ve thought about this all night, and I’ve made a decision. I want to go to the city now. Why should I wait until school starts in the fall? I’m doing nothing here but waiting for my life to begin, while you throw yours away. I want to find a place over there and leave as soon as possible.”

  The floor turned fluid under Frieda’s feet. She’d known her sister’s disappointment and disapproval before, but not in this way. Before it had been all about her messy appearance or her unsociable ways, but this was a disdain of a different sort. Not from her sister! Who could possibly understand, if not Bea?

  “Please, Bea . . . don’t punish me.”

  Bea stared with a stunned look on her face. The room became quiet and still. “What’s happening to you? I’ve never seen you so . . . so passive.”

  It did seem incomprehensible. Neither Frieda nor anyone else who knew her would’ve predicted that she would be acting like so many other girls. In her mind she had been too strong for this, but Frieda hadn’t learned yet how powerful love could be.

  Bea’s pose eased, and the earth became solid under Frieda’s feet again. They both sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I don’t want you to go away,” Frieda said, forcing herself not to beg. “I especially don’t want you to go away mad. I couldn’t bear it.”

  Bea sat without moving for a long time. On her face was a strange sense of wonder mixed with concern. Finally she said, “You must care deeply about him.”

  Frieda gazed over at her sister and willed all the bad feelings away.

  “Does he love you?” Bea asked.

  Frieda stared down at her hands, the hands that had only so recently touched his skin. “He hasn’t said so.”

  Bea looked down, too, and her lips pursed as she frowned. Then she glanced up and, as if gathering her own strength, said, “Has he given you any indication?”

  “He’s very kind to me. He told me I fascinate him, and he once referred to me as ‘my love.’”

  Bea’s face told her she thought that it wasn’t much, but it was something. But how much did Bea really know about the matters of the human heart? She had gone to dances at school and had turned away many a suitor. Even with her low beginnings, Bea had been able to attract young men, but she’d never taken anything too seriously, had never stuck to any boy long enough to form attachments. Her future studies had always been her main concern. And Bea had always been such a sweet soul; she wouldn’t crush Frieda’s hopes even if she didn’t believe in them.

  Bea touched her sister’s cheek. “Just be careful, will you please?”

  Frieda couldn’t believe it. It was as if for a moment they’d switched roles, and Bea was now taking care of her.

  After dinner later they continued the conversation. “Look,” Bea said, her eyes softer now. “It makes sense, you know. I can get settled in before school starts and find a job to make some money for the rest of the summer. You’ve done so much for me; it’s time for me to do more for myself. If I have a job, I can take some of the burden off your shoulders.”

  Bea was no longer angry, so why wouldn’t she let this idea go? It was as if once it had been planted, the seed had immediately burst open and there was no way to put it back inside its shell. Frieda had to swallow hard past the lump in her throat before she could speak.

  “I don’t want you to work. Just concentrate on school. Be the first woman in our family to make something of herself. That means more to me than anything. I have plenty of money put away.”

  Bea grabbed her sister’s hands. “So my wages will be for my runabout money. For clothes and shoes and such. You know how I love all that. I can leave some of my old stuff with you, now that you’re in need of it. And I’ll get adjusted to city life before my classes begin.”

  Frieda had never seen such determination in her sister’s eyes. It was as if overnight they’d traded roles in personality, too, and Bea was full of resolve, while Frieda was close to defenseless. “You won’t know anyone. And it’s so big . . . I’ve been there. I know.”

  “But I like new things, and I make friends easily. I can’t wait to get started. Please, Frieda . . . please . . .” She squeezed harder and then didn’t let go.

  Bea, leaving now? She looked away and let loss ache throughout her body. She had known it was coming, but she’d believed she had at least two more months. “Silver will miss you. So will I.”

  Bea said, “You know I can’t do it without your blessing.”

  “If you’re sure it’s what you want . . .”

  “I’m sure.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Three days later they went to the ferry dock in Highlands and waited for the steamboat to the city. They had packed Bea’s most prized possessions in two borrowed and scarred old suitcases. The cases held her favorite dresses, some skirts and blouses, and her favorite books, along with personal items she couldn’t part with.

  While they waited, Frieda looked about for Charles. She hadn’t seen him since he had dropped her off three mornings before. Not a note or a message. She’d walked the docks and done the required maintenance on Dutch’s boat, always lis
tening for the sound of his footsteps coming down the pier, or the lilt of his voice as he called her name. Each time she came up from the engine room and took a glance around, pretending as if she were looking for something else, she was really looking for him, but all she saw were the flat stares of the other runners and fishermen, and the first star fell from her shining new sky.

  The days were sunny and warm, the nights cool and damp. It was turning out to be a lovely summer. Along with Bea’s leaving, Charles’s absence left her aching. She closed her eyes and kept seeing dead fish, a dying dolphin that had washed up on the shore, and piles of empty oyster and clamshells.

  The night before at home she had heard heavy footsteps on the porch, and her heart leapt into her throat. But it was only Hicks coming by to say good-bye to Bea and wish her luck.

  He gave Bea a perfect sand dollar that he’d kept for years and placed into a little cardboard gift box so that it wouldn’t break. Years spent in the sun and salty air were beginning to show on his face; squint lines bloomed from the corners of both eyes.

  “Don’t forget where you came from,” he said to Bea, and then he looked at Frieda as if the message was intended for her instead. But his look contained no anger. His face was the same concerned face she’d always known, and the way he said things with shrugs of his broad shoulders and movements of his eyes was so familiar. She couldn’t lose his friendship now. With the pain in her heart, there was no room for anything but fond feelings for others these days.

  Frieda wished she could thank him for his friendship and for accepting her the way she was for all these years, but if she spoke anything that came straight from her heart, it would release all the other feelings she was working so hard to contain. Bea’s leaving, and Charles . . . There was an awful urge to tell him, her dear old friend, all of it. It was as if Bea had already abandoned her and she had no one else to tell, no one to turn to. Hicks must have realized she was torn up over Bea’s leaving, but did he have any idea how she ached over Charles? She couldn’t burden Hicks when he obviously still had feelings for her. But his gaze said that he already knew, that he somehow understood.