Family Dynamics (Pam of Babylon Book Five) (15 page)

“It never occurred to me to get a second opinion. My doctor supposedly works with AIDS patients all the time. I trusted her to be the best to give advice.” She looked out the window, deep in thought. Steve was feeling a little anxious. With the scotch under his belt, he felt motivated to stop by the hardware store on his way home and pick up some paint charts.

“Let’s get on our way, shall we? I want to get home and start planning how I’m going to brighten up the tomb I live in,” he said. And then he looked over at Sandra and felt a flood of compassion for her. “Would you like to come with me to see Miranda? I think Marie would have liked that.” Sandra was speechless.
Why in God’s name would Marie care if I saw her baby or not?
She thought about what her evening at home would be. Tom was working a twelve-hour shift and hadn’t started until eleven that morning, so she’d be going home to an empty apartment. His stepmother, Gwen, would probably call and hound her into coming up to Bayside for dinner. Sandra couldn’t think of anything she’d rather not do. Going to Steve’s to see baby Miranda sounded nice. It might be good for her.

“All right, I’ll come home with you. I don’t feel like going back to the office.” She slid out of the booth and went to the cash register to pay their bill. Steve felt awkward, but it couldn’t be helped. He barely made ends meet, and she was wealthy. It was the way things were. “Do you want to get a cab?” she asked. He thought it was silly because the train was a few blocks west but shrugged his shoulders.

“We could do that,” he answered. Maybe her feet hurt. They walked in silence to the street, and a cab pulled to the curb for her without any effort. Steve looked over at her and had to admit she was a knockout. People looked at them, and he was sure they were thinking he was either her father or a jerk of a boyfriend. He had had to keep reminding nurses and doctors that he wasn’t Marie’s father when she was in the hospital. Sandra slid into the cab, and he followed her. When Steve gave the driver his address, she looked at him curiously.

“The Village?” she asked. He nodded his head. “Bill Smith’s place?” she asked, referring to Jack’s brother’s townhouse. He nodded.

She vaguely remembered the story of Pam offering it to Steve and the baby when her tenants graduated. “How’s it working out for you?”

“It’ll be better once I make it a home. So far, we’ve spent the past year in the gloom of the previous owner’s ocher and dark oak paneling. I plan on painting everything white. Oh! If you don’t mind, I need to stop off at the hardware store in the neighborhood and get a can of paint.” He leaned forward and told the cab driver they’d be making a different stop. They got to the hardware store, and Steve went directly to the paint. “I don’t even have to look at a color chart. Antique white, my favorite color.” He grabbed a quart and a large sponge brush with a paint roller and pan. Sandra wandered around the unfamiliar space while Steve paid for his paint. She needed to find a project that would make her feel more like she belonged in Tom’s place. But what? He wouldn’t go for her repainting, she was sure.

“If you’re OK, we can walk to my place from here,” he said. She walked beside him, silently looking around the neighborhood. Several brownstones had purple NYU flags flying from the stoops, and a few others had fraternity flags.

“Are these all Greek houses?” she asked.

“Some,” he said. “The university owns most of them, which can be good or bad. So far, there’s only been one party rowdy enough for the police to come, and that was during graduation. Since that house—” He pointed to one across the street from his house. “—is for students in religious studies, they’re well-behaved.” He burst out laughing. “Not that it should make any difference!” He handed Sandra the bag of brushes and rollers and dug in his pants pocket for his house key.

“I’m home,” he hollered as he opened the door, nodding his head for Sandra to go through ahead of him. She could hear Nelda’s excited voice telling baby Miranda that Daddy was home and then the squealing of an excited child about to see her parent.

“Hi Nelda, it’s nice to see you,” Sandra said as Nelda came out into the hallway to greet Steve. She was surprised, but smiling, a rarity for Nelda. She even put her free arm out to embrace Sandra.

“Oh, my God! How wonderful to see you, dear!” The baby reached out to yank on Sandra’s hair, and the three of them stood in a huddle as Steve put his briefcase and can of paint down.

“How’s my girl?” he said to Miranda, but she was too busy with Sandra, intrigued with her necklace and dangly earrings.

“She’s so cute!” Sandra said, fighting back tears.

“Doesn’t she look like Marie?” Nelda asked, adding in a whisper, “Thank God.” Sandra had to start laughing, but the tears came in spite of her effort.

“She does look exactly like her,” Sandra said. She hadn’t counted on the emotional factor. Suddenly, she realized that she was sort of related to these people, through sin and tragedy, and because she had the same DNA in her that killed Marie. And Nelda had lost a child, just as she had lost Ellin. She dug through her pocket for her handkerchief and finally just gave up and started crying. Nelda held on to her while Steve took Miranda from her.

“Nelda, I’m so sorry, so sorry about your loss, sorry I never called you before this, just sorry about everything,” she said, crying. Steve was concerned but decided to leave things alone. Maybe Sandra was crying for more reasons than met the eye.

“Oh, thank you, honey, that’s so sweet of you,” she said as she led Sandra into the living room.

“Oh! Oh boy, Steve, I see why you need the paint. This is awful,” Sandra said, the tears gone for a moment. “I’m going to help you do this, help you get this painted. It’s so depressing!”

Nelda laughed. “I think I was getting used to it, but now that I look again, you’re right, it’s awful. Come on, you two, let’s have coffee, or do you want tea, Sandra? Dinner will be ready in an hour if you want to stay, dear.”

Sandra wanted to stay. “I’ll call my boyfriend and let him know where I am. I would love to stay.” She walked back out into the hallway and called Tom’s cell phone. He was surprised to find out where she was.

“Wow, that’s a little strange!” he said.

“It really is,” she said with a laugh. “I sort of feel like I’m with my father and grandmother.”

“Well, enjoy yourself. Call me when you get ready to leave, and I’ll come get you. I’m downtown now trying not to kill someone with my bare hands.” Tom was a cop dealing with young drunks who had entitlement.

“Ugh. Well, be careful,” she said. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said.

She went back into the living room, and Nelda had a tray of coffee and cookies.

“I’m heating water up for your tea. So have a seat. What’s going on in Brooklyn? I haven’t been back in months. Pam sold my house, did she tell you? No tears were shed over that old place! I bet they tear it down,” Nelda said, leaning over to get a cookie.

“I like it there, believe it or not,” Sandra said. She hardly believed it herself. She looked around the room, at Nelda and at Steve holding the baby. She belonged with these people, she felt it with certainty. And she belonged with Pam. She had to find some way to make up to Pam everything she’d done to hurt her. She reached out for Miranda.

“Can I hold her?” Steve set her down on Sandra’s lap. The baby’s hand went right to Sandra’s mouth.

“Dadada,” she cooed. “Dada.” Sandra laughed at her, pressing her lips together so the baby couldn’t dig in her mouth with her sharp fingernails. “Mamamama,” she cooed.

“Oh, boy! We haven’t heard that, have we, Steve?” Nelda said. Steve shook his head.

“No one’s been ‘Mama’ yet. This is a first,” he said.

“She’s at the age, though,” Nelda said, feeling so sad that it wasn’t Marie hearing those syllables. Sandra was unable to open her mouth; she was blasted with a simultaneous thrill and a deep, deep sadness, and the two powerful emotions were feeding off each other. Before she knew it, she was sobbing into the shoulder of the little girl, who didn’t seem to mind.

“Mamamama, dadadada,” Miranda said, alternating her words with making “raspberries.” Sandra laughed while she was crying.

“Do you want me to take her?” Nelda asked softly.

“No, if it’s OK with you. I wish Marie were here,” Sandra said. “I wish I had been nicer to her.” It was an admission that needed no explanation because both Nelda and Steve had been at the receiving end of Marie’s nonsense. They simply nodded their heads. The regrets the living had for the dead, no matter what the relationship—that perceived wrongs could never be made right.

Nelda wiped her eyes with the end of her apron. “I’m going to get dinner going. I’m glad you’re staying dear; I appreciate the female company—no offense, Steve.”

“None taken. I’m going to call your daughter and ask her if I can start painting this cave,” he said. Sandra played with the baby, bonding with her. Nelda and Steve went off to do what they had to do, confident that the baby was in the care of someone who needed her more than they did at that moment.

Chapter 18

P
am squirted breath spray into her mouth. Pulling the visor down, she confirmed what she already knew without looking: Every hair was in place, her makeup was perfect, and she looked great. When she saw Dan’s car in the parking lot, her anxiety shot up a level or two. She locked her bag in the car and walked to the door of the gym just as Dan came out. He’d been waiting for her. The knowledge that she wouldn’t have to make an entrance by herself thrilled her, and she smiled at him, reaching out for his hand.

“What’s the plan?” she asked. “I usually work with a trainer unless I’m on the treadmill.”

“You won’t need one,” he said. “We’ll work together, OK?” He put his arm around her shoulder and kept it there as they walked through the lobby. Pam noticed the young women, many of them Lisa’s age, looking longingly at Dan, shooting dagger looks at her. Pam was used to being seen with a handsome man, one that other woman were attracted to—just not one so young. “We seem to be attracting a lot of attention today.” He squeezed her arm and laughed, and she smiled up at him in return. “They’re jealous.”

“Yes, and note how it’s just women looking,” she replied. She wondered how long her heart could race along like it was without being damaged. They reached the free-weight area and Dan stopped, sizing her up.

“Your arms are fabulous,” he said, embarrassing her but pleasing her. “What weight do you usually start out with?”

“Five pounds,” she said.

“Five pounds it is,” he replied, taking two five-pound weights off the rack. Dan led the way to the mirrored area and got behind her after giving her the weights. “Let’s start with bicep curls.” He gently placed his hands on her elbows as she began raising the weights up. His hand on her arm gave her goose bumps. “Not too fast.” Pam was watching her arms in the mirror, and then she made the mistake of glancing back toward Dan as he stood behind her. It was obvious he was struggling with the same thing she was. After she’d done bicep curls and arm raises, it was time for shoulder shrugs; her face twitched each time she tried raising her shoulders. They laughed, defusing some of the tension that was growing between them, and finally, she did an exercise for her triceps. Dan moved around to her side so that when she bent over at the waist, he wouldn’t be
right there
.

“Hold your arms in tight at your sides,” he instructed, helping her bend her arms forward. “OK, bend over at the waist and slowly straighten your arms out.” Something about his arm stretched across her back as he assisted her with each movement was sending haywire electrical charges through her body.

He felt the same way.
I’m an adult man. I can control my penis
, he thought, as her proximity to him was supercharging his own electric currents. Pam straightened up and went from staring at him in the mirror to turning to him. She got as close as she could in a public place and still maintain her dignity.

“Maybe we should get on the treadmill,” she whispered. He nodded, then grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“Yes, maybe that’s wise,” he replied. Pam put the weights back on the rack, and they walked to side-by-side treadmills. She looked over at Dan and smiled, got on, and turned the speed up. They watched each other in the mirrors and laughed as they tried to outdo one another’s speed. Pam won, and Dan turned the speed down to recover.

“Trying to give a man a heart attack?” he said and then felt the flush.
What a jackass! Didn’t her husband die of a heart attack?
But she didn’t seem to notice the faux pas and kept running.

“No! I need you to be my lawyer,” she said, smiling but thinking,
Oh my God, he is hot!
They ran for another twenty minutes. He grabbed his towel and wiped his face off.

“Come on, Speedy, let’s go,” he teased. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Pam said. “Going to the gym is all I do.” She got off the treadmill, and Dan immediately put his arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the gym, followed by the same jealous glances as they got coming in.

“Can I see your house?” he asked. “I’m a beach lover from way back.”

“Sure! Follow me?” He nodded his head. The ride to the house was fraught with anxiety for Pam. She rarely hung around in her gym clothes after a workout. What did he expect of her? Could she take a shower while he waited? She would soon find out, she supposed.

In his own car, Dan was wondering the same thing. He sniffed his underarms and fake-gagged; thankfully, he had a gym bag with clean clothes
and
deodorant, just in case. He followed her car, winding around the beach streets until they arrived at a white shingled Cape Cod with a carriage house in front. The size of the house was deceiving. At first glance, it appeared to be modest like so many on the beach. There were the huge, gaudy McMansions and the restored Cape Cods. But when he got out of his car and started walking toward Pam, who was waiting on the sidewalk, the illusion disappeared, and the true size of the place was evident.

“Jeez! This place is gigantic,” he said, looking up at the expanse of the roof.