Beauty & the Beasts (28 page)

“Will you have to move to a larger house because of your mom marrying?” she asked.

“Yeah, but probably someplace not too faraway. She said she didn’t want me to have to change schools.”

Madeline didn’t point out that this hardly sounded like a parent trying to “dump” her kid. Instead, she mused, “I was really angry at my mother when I was a little older than you. Have I told you about it?”

He let his kitten go and began flicking a feather wand for another one. “You started to once. You said you’d tell me about it later.”

Funny how much fresher in her memory those years had become, thanks to her self-examination. Faces and names came to her at odd moments; she’d remembered a disastrous date her mother had let her go on. A month ago she’d have sworn her mother had always said no.

Madeline told him about her modeling and acting past, fielding questions on what it was really like in front of a camera and admitting that no, she had never met Sandra Bullock, Mel Gibson or Jim Carrey.

“I mostly did commercials,” she said. “Not very glamorous, I’m afraid.”

His expression told her he agreed.

“I haven’t acted in years,” she told him, “but I actually went to an audition last night for a community theater. I don’t know if I’ll get the part, but just being on the stage and playing a role, listening to other people talk about opening nights and how Friday-night audiences are different from Saturday-night ones and hearing them tease each other about missed lines or directors who were hard on them…it just brought it all back. I don’t regret giving up being a professional, but I am sorry I turned my back on
friends and on something I loved doing—like acting. Not to mention rejecting my mother the way I did.”

Madeline was silent for a moment, conscious of Garth watching her. “You know,” she said, “it’s taken me all these years to figure out that Mom was probably doing her best.”

He frowned. “You’re not mad at her anymore?”

“I was until this summer.” Madeline made a face. “Truth is, I was until just a week or so ago. You want to hear the really crazy part?”

He was a twelve-year-old boy. Of course he wanted to hear the crazy part. He nodded eagerly.

“After I threw a temper tantrum and moved out when I turned eighteen, we never talked about why I was angry.” Incredible. All those years, wasted. “I didn’t speak to my mother at all for two years. Then one day I called, but it was as if only the present existed. We’ve had this distant relationship ever since, like pleasant acquaintances.” She grimaced. “That’s about all we were. We hardly knew each other! Anyway, we’d talk on the phone about once a month for five minutes, see each other maybe twice a year for really short visits. I never said, ‘Mom, I’m still angry at the way you pushed me into taking modeling assignments when it meant I couldn’t go to school or have friends like other kids.’ Not once.”

Madeline kissed the kitten’s white nose and let her go. A friendly tabby leaped to her lap to take the other’s place. Madeline continued, “And Mom never asked—not once—how I felt about my childhood or my career or her. We talked about the news or she’d
tell me about getting her hair done or…oh, just dumb stuff.”

“My mom and I don’t talk that much, either.” Garth’s voice was low now, with his head bowed over the kitten. “Not like this.”

“Maybe she has something in common with my mother, who admitted the other day that she’s never found it easy to talk about emotions, so she just doesn’t.” Madeline made a face. “I guess that explains why I’m so warped.”

His head shot up. “But you’re not! Not like me—” He stopped abruptly, eyes rolling like a spooked horse’s.

She stared. “You? You’re a great kid! Why do you think you’re warped?” Was he far more depressed than even Eric realized?

Garth ducked his head. “I guess I’m not really. I just…that is, sometimes I think people don’t like me that much.”

Madeline could think of only one thing to do. She smiled at him with all the warmth and affection she felt for him. “I like you—a lot,” she said simply. “Do you know how few kids your age would spend the time here that you have? And care so much? Garth Bergstrom, you’re one of my favorite people in the world.”

He stole a glance at her. Red rushed up his neck to his cheeks. “I…you’re nice, too,” he mumbled.

Madeline’s heart began to drum. Crunch time. How to ease into it? No, she decided. Just ask.

“But you don’t want me to marry your father.”

Garth scrambled to his feet, shedding the startled kitten. His voice rose. “Dad told you that?”

“Yes. But I’d already guessed. You were trying so hard the other night to get rid of me.”

“He shouldn’t have told you,” Garth said resentfully.

“Maybe not, but he did because he loves you.” She held up her hand to avert an explosion. “He asked me to talk to you.”

That news was no more welcome. “You came to get me today just so you could tell me all this bull…”

“No.” She cut him off without apology. “I came to get you for the same reasons I have two or three times a week all summer. Because you’re a big help here and because I like you.”

His thin face worked as he tried to find some way to turn her declaration back against her, but apparently he failed, because after a moment he wheeled away and stared out the window.

“You know,” she said softly, “I’d never thought much about having kids of my own until I got to know you. Now I understand why people do. I sort of wish you were mine.”

He whipped around. “You’re lying!” His tone was furious.

“No,” Madeline said again. “When I was with you and your dad, we felt like a family.” She waited until he met her eyes. “I love your father. I’d like to marry him. But I won’t, at least not for a while, if you don’t want me to. I think…for now you need to come first with him. So the decision will be yours.
I’m just asking you to think about it, and…and give me a chance.”

How feeble that sounded, the forlorn petitioner asking for his blessing! She doubted he’d believe her promise not to steal Eric from him; why would he, when he didn’t believe his own father? But what other tack could she have taken? Announce she was going to marry his father no matter what he thought, but oh, by the way, we promise not to shut you out?

At his continuing silence Madeline sighed, but soundlessly, trying to avoid any suggestion of impatience. “I’ll leave you here for a while,” she said, rising from the room’s one chair. “I’d better check messages and return some phone calls.”

Garth made no reply; only stood rigid, hands knotted at his sides. He looked so thin and vulnerable, his pale scalp still showing through what might have been a close crew cut. She hadn’t yet seriously considered what asking Eric to wait would mean; right now, she ached inside for the loss of the son, not the father.

Madeline went to the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“I guess it’d be okay,” Garth said behind her, voice loud, abrupt.

She turned, startled. “What would be okay? My leaving you here? If you’d rather do something else—”

“No.” He faced her, squaring his shoulders. “I mean, you and Dad.”

For an instant, she was numb. “Are you…are you sure?”

Eric had asked her that, she remembered, countless
times, and she’d always said yes even when it was a lie.

“Yeah.” The boy’s expression was as stoic as if he expected her to euthanize him any minute. “I always wanted you to marry him, but I
didn’t,
too.” He moved uneasily. “That’s dumb, isn’t it?”

“No. Everyone’s had the experience of wanting something and being scared of it both at the same time.” She was having that experience right now. Everything she’d ever wanted was seemingly in her grasp, and she was terrified that somehow she’d lose it all.

“I’m scared of lots of stuff lately.” He hung his head. “I’m a baby.”

Madeline took the risk of going to him and giving his shoulders a quick undemanding squeeze. “Kiddo, everybody is scared of lots of stuff. I have this horrible feeling I’ve spent my whole life ruled by fear. I’ve never met your mother, but I’d just about guarantee that she’s afraid of losing you altogether, afraid her new marriage might not work, afraid of the changes it’ll bring. If you’re a baby, so are we all.”

“I’m afraid Mittens and Dusky might not get a home.” Not as irrelevant as it sounded.

Gravely she said, “I promise we’ll find them a home. Word of honor.”

Garth stole a shy glance at her. “Okay.”

Madeline put her hand on the doorknob. “I know you don’t need another mother, but I’d like us to be friends. Can we try?”

He nodded again. “Can I tell Dad?”

“About our agreement?”

“Yeah.”

She wanted to rush to the telephone and call Eric, but another few hours of waiting was a small price to pay for Garth’s acceptance of her.

“You bet,” she said.

She slipped out of the kitten room and closed the door behind her. Exhilaration—and fear—tingled from her toes to her fingers.

No more obstacles stood in the way. If Eric really loved her, if she was certain in her heart that this was right, nothing would stop them from promising each other forever after.

I
F HE’D SAID NO
, would Madeline really have told his dad she wouldn’t marry him? Garth sort of liked the idea that she would have; it gave him a sense of power he didn’t remember ever feeling before. Real power. Cool.

He considered the possibility of torturing his father by waiting all evening to tell him that it was okay if he proposed to Madeline. After saying good-night, he would sort of casually stop in the bedroom door-way and add, “Oh, by the way, Madeline and I talked today. I guess you can marry her if you want to.”

He savored the imaginary scene for a minute. Talk about feeling powerful! But reluctantly he decided it would be too mean. Anyway, telling Dad would be like giving a really cool gift, the kind you can hardly wait until the person opens.

He wished there was some way he
could
wrap it,
or maybe some symbolic object. His English teacher was hooked on that word:
symbolic.

He had Madeline drop him in town in front of the dime store. It mostly had kind of cheapo stuff and didn’t look as if it would be full of symbols. But you never knew.

Like magic, Garth found what he wanted in the first aisle. He bought it for $2.99 and paid the clerk fifty cents to gift wrap the package.

On the way home he decided to go whole hog and cook dinner, too. That way, it could be like a celebration. He thought about inviting Madeline—not that he was a very good cook—but her presence would give away his surprise immediately.

He made a salad—that was easy—and put it in the fridge, then baked potatoes in the microwave while he broiled steaks. Once they were in the oven, he got to worrying that Dad might be late. Then they’d either have a cold dinner or a really well-done one.

But he was turning the steaks out onto a plate when Dad walked in.

His father stopped in the kitchen doorway, eyebrows shooting up. “What provoked this?”

“I just felt like doing something,” Garth said nonchalantly.

His father shook his head. “I’ll go wash my hands and sit myself down. Unless waiting on Dad isn’t part of the deal.”

“I can put dinner on the table.” Garth had already set it with china from the buffet, and he’d put out the salad dressings and croutons and the sour
cream—Dad bought the real thing, not the nonfat stuff Mom did.

Garth felt proud of himself when Dad’s eyebrows rose again at the sight of the table. “Hey, this is nice! You make me ashamed of the way I usually slap dinner together with no frills on the eating bar. Your mother must set a better example than I do.”

The table at home was always pretty fancy, cloth napkins—Mom was into recycling—coordinated with place mats or the tablecloth and even the dishes. Garth had always liked the way the two of them sat down for dinner as if it was a big deal, not something you ate in front of the TV like some of his friends’ families did. That was the kind of memory he held on to when he was scared Mom didn’t want him anymore.

Dad didn’t push to find out why he’d gone to so much effort. Garth was glad. The present was under his chair, and he wanted to wait until after dinner.

The steaks had cooked a little too long and the potatoes not quite long enough, but despite that, the meal was really pretty good. If he didn’t become a veterinarian like Dad, maybe he ought to become a chef. No, it had to be a vet so he could help animals like Chev and Ron and Mittens and Dusky.

Dad finally sighed and pushed his plate away. “So, do we have a selection of desserts tonight?”

“Would you believe ice cream or Popsicles?”

Dad yawned and shoved his chair back. “I think I’ll pass. A hot bath sounds better. The meal was great, Garth. Thanks.”

“I’ve got something for you.” Garth bent over
and picked up the small package, handing it across the table to his father. It actually looked a little silly; the only paper the store had had was a kids’ cartoon one.

Dad turned the package over in his hands. “A present.” His brow wrinkled. “What’s the occasion?”

“You’ll see.”

As carefully as though he planned to reuse the paper, Dad opened the package, taking out the small box. He opened it and stared inside, then lifted his head and stared at Garth.

“It’s…wedding rings.”

“Plastic,” Garth said helpfully. “I think they’d break really easy.”

“Are you…are you trying to tell me something?”

Was his father a little slow or what?

“I figured if you hadn’t bought an engagement ring yet—” Garth shrugged “—I’d help you along.”

Dad looked down again. He picked up the fake ruby ring and turned it slowly between his thumb and finger. A flake of gold paint drifted away.

Suddenly Dad’s shoulders started to shake. Was he crying? Garth worried. Now what was he supposed to do?

And then this whoop came out of Dad, followed by another one. He was laughing! Every time he slowed down, he’d look at the ring again and laugh harder.

“They’re symbolic,” Garth said with dignity. “Like, with this ring, I give you permission. Or something.”