Yours Until Morning Page 18

  John called from downstairs. “I’m off. See you tonight.”

  June stuck her head into the hall. “Bye.” The screen door slammed shut, hinges squealing. He still hadn’t gotten around to fixing them. She heard the truck starting up and padded down the hall into the bedroom to dress.

  John had yet to tell Claire that she couldn’t go with him on the boat for the fishing derby and June was bracing herself for the howls of protest that would occur when he did. But she wouldn’t back down. It solved the problem, anyway, of worrying about Claire having a seizure out on the boat. It was just as well that she remained at home.

  June took extra care with her dress and make up. She was planning to go over to the fishing hut to leave a note for Richard and she hoped (oh, how she hoped!) he would be there waiting for her, to sweep her up in his arms and squeeze her tight, say something, anything to give her hope. She slipped on her blue sheath dress and clasped a choker of paste pearls around her neck, smoothed her hair with her hands and gave it a good dousing of hair spray. It was time to go to the hairdresser, June thought critically. Her hair was longer now and curling around her neck, almost to her shoulders, but that was one more expense she couldn’t afford. Maybe when the bonus came in.

  “I’m just going out for a minute,” June said to the girls. They were sprawled in their favorite spot on the back porch, quizzing each other about the latest hits on the pop chart. Evie’s fingernails flashed pearly pink in a ray of sunlight.

  “Did you take my nail polish?”

  Evie looked up guiltily. “I put it back. I just wanted to see how it would look.”

  June sighed. “We’ll discuss later whether or not nail polish is appropriate for a girl of twelve. I won’t be long. When I’m back we can think about running over to Hammett Mills to take a look at the school.”

  “We’ve seen the school,” Claire said.

  “Not from the inside,” June said, checking her irritation. Claire wasn’t so big that she wouldn’t benefit from a good swat on the behind every now and then. “And I don’t think you’re in much of a position to do any negotiating, young lady.” As far as June was concerned, Claire was on probation and every sign of bad behavior would be nipped in the bud. “I won’t be gone long. Keep an eye on Ben.”

  June hurried out the back door and headed down the lane in the direction of town, but as soon as she was out of sight of the house, she doubled back and made a beeline for the fishing hut, stumbling through the scrubby plants that grew in the dunes, keeping an eye out for poison ivy. All she needed now was to come down with an unsightly rash. She arrived at the hut, out of breath, her color high.

  But Richard wasn’t there.

  Her stomach flipped, hope plunged from its cliff and died on the rocks below. June checked her watch. Just after ten. She couldn’t wait here all day for him to show up. On a scrap of paper dug out from the bottom of her purse she scrawled a quick note.

  I have to see you. 2:00 p.m. tomorrow? I’ll wait for you, darling. J.

  June tucked the note under the stub of a candle and walked back out into the light. She didn’t know how she would get through the day and night and most of tomorrow, not with all the things she wanted to say to Richard tumbling in her head. She needed something to distract herself. A day away. Hammett Mills. It was the perfect excuse. She’d call Emma and get her to drive them over there. If she asked Mrs. Cranshaw to sit with Ben, they could make it a girls’ day out.

  Evie and Claire had made a nest on the porch floor with the seat cushions. Each was busy with her own pursuits: Claire sketching an assortment of shells with colored pencils, Evie practicing her signature in big loops and swirls. June slipped into the kitchen and phoned Emma.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” June asked when she’d explained the situation. “The girls are dying to see their new school and John is working around the clock and can’t take me over there. And you know how inconvenient the bus is…. You will? Oh, Emma, you’re a doll. I owe you one.”

  She dialed Mrs. Cranshaw’s number and arranged for her to stay with Ben in the afternoon. Hopefully he would nap most of the time and not be too much of a bother. Mrs. Cranshaw was hard of hearing anyway, so even if he screamed, it wouldn’t be that bad. And she was a sweet old thing, often refusing payment, wanting instead for John to come over to look at her leaky roof or to fit her storm windows. June didn’t like to promise John’s assistance without asking him first, but just this once she felt she deserved a little break.

  They could make a real day of it. Drive on over to Hammett Mills to look at the school and then splurge on ice cream cones. And if there was time she and Emma could drool over the appliances in Lane’s department store. Maybe even try on evening dresses, as if they were serious buyers, intent on finding the perfect wardrobe for fall. It was only Hammett Mills, of course, a small town five miles to the east, but it was a real town, much more of a commercial center than Lockport, with its theater and cinemas and shops, along with the junior high and high school where all the older children from Lockport went after they’d finished with the local primary school.

  “Come on girls. Brush your hair. How are your clothes? Mrs. Sanders is going to drive us all over to Hammett Mills so you can look at the school and we can pick up some school supplies at the five and ten. And if you behave,” she looked evenly at Claire, “we’ll stop off at Sal’s for ice cream sodas.

  “What about Ben,” Evie asked. “Does he get to come?”

  “Mrs. Cranshaw is coming over to babysit. So it’s girls’ day out. Let’s go. Comb your hair and, Claire, you might want to change into a nicer blouse, Mrs. Sander’s will be here any minute.”

  Claire dawdled on the stairs as Evie rushed past her to change her clothes and comb her hair.

  In no time at all, Emma pulled up to the house in her husband’s freshly waxed Buick sedan and tooted the horn.

  “We’ll just be a minute,” June called from an upstairs window. “I’m still waiting for Mrs. Cranshaw. Oh, there she is, right on time. Hello Mrs. Cranshaw,” June raised her voice and waved at Mrs. Cranshaw who had pulled up behind Emma.

  June rushed downstairs to open the door.

  “Thank you so much for coming out on short notice to watch Ben. He’s been fed and changed so he should be all right till we get back. Maybe a little apple juice in mid-afternoon and then it’s down for his nap at three o’clock. Don’t worry if he fusses, he’ll settle down if you leave him alone.” With a few more instructions and a profusion of thanks, June ushered Mrs. Cranshaw into the house and then came out again with Claire and Evie in tow. Evie had pulled her hair up into a ponytail, tied it with a blue bow and then tucked it under with bobby pins, a complicated hairdo she’d copied from a magazine. Looking grown up in her pressed white shorts and blue checked blouse, June saw how quickly her daughter was leaving childhood behind. A pretty girl at twelve, at sixteen Evie would be a beauty. Perhaps her looks would be her ticket out of Lockport.

  Claire had changed her blouse and combed her hair, but had made no other concessions in honor of the excursion.

  “Evie, I hope that’s not lipstick you’re wearing,” June said as she slid into the passenger seat. She turned around and gave Evie a strange look. I think you’d better wipe that right off. Evie blushed and looked away. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The faintest of pink smudges came away on her skin.

  “Oh, these girls,” June said to Emma and then laughed gaily to break the tension.

  “I’ll trade you my boys any day, Emma said. “Your girls are real dolls.” She turned to wink at Evie and Claire before backing carefully out of the lane. “I’d love to have daughters to do girly things with. There’s too much muscle in my household. And they all think I’m such a ninny. Jimmy’s a nervous wreck every time I drive his car. Good thing he’s out on the boat today and isn’t any the wiser. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Just pray I don’t a get a scratch.” She laughed and June joined her, commiserating like battle-
weary lieutenants about men and their foibles.

  They drove sedately through the town. The car was so big and low slung that June felt they were parting the pedestrians on the street like a luxury liner ploughing the waves. They came in view of the blackened cannery and June asked Emma to slow down.

  “What a mess,” June said leaning her elbow out the window. “John was out here early this morning fighting the fire for hours. I can’t believe he had the energy to go off to the boatyard today.”

  “They called Jimmy, too,” Emma said, “but he didn’t want to miss a day of fishing so he begged off. I don’t think he could have been much help anyway. From the looks of this, it couldn’t be saved.”

  They contemplated the charred building in silence. June was still not all that sorry to see the cannery gone, no matter what John said. But she kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t know Emma’s position on the whole thing and didn’t want to risk alienating her friend. Emma pressed her foot on the accelerator and they moved past the cannery and onto the road that headed away from the beach. Hammett Mills was not on the water. In the nineteenth century it had been a milling town, but when the mills closed they were torn down or boarded up and the town became something of a commercial center for the local farmers. June sometimes wished they could live there instead of Lockport, although she supposed she would miss being near the sea in summer.

  The girls were quiet in the back seat, minding June’s admonishments to behave. Evie had brought along a loop of string and the two girls were keeping themselves amused by playing cat’s cradle. June wondered if they were nervous about going off to a new school next week. Maybe seeing the inside of the building today would make them feel better about what lay ahead. She stroked the vinyl seat. “I envy you this car,” she said. “I wish John would get us a decent car so I could learn to drive. He tried to teach me in that truck of his but it was impossible. I kept grinding the gears and stalling out. I decided it was better to keep my marriage intact than to get a driver’s license.”

  “If I didn’t think Jimmy would kill me, I’d teach you,” Emma said. “As it is, he practically has a coronary every time I get behind the wheel.”

  “You’re doing fine.” June smiled at her friend, feeling suddenly rebellious and free to be going off like this in a car without the constraint of husbands.

  “A graveyard’s coming up,” Claire shouted. “Hold your breath.” The Pine View Cemetery came into view on their right and they all held their breaths, even June and Emma. When they had passed safely by they all let out their breaths noisily with relief. It was a large cemetery and Emma giggled and blushed. “Silly superstition. But my kids always do the same thing.”

  “It’s bad luck if you don’t hold your breath,” Claire said. “Like stepping on a crack.”

  The drive to Hammett Mills didn’t take long; it was just a few short miles through fields of corn and potatoes. Insects whirred in the tall grass along the sides of the road. Great white clouds hung in the sky. Soon they approached the outskirts of the town. Emma idled the car at the first traffic light. “Okay, where to first,” she called, loudly enough for the girls in the back seat to hear her. “Ice cream or a visit to the school?”

  “Ice cream,” the girls chimed in unison.

  “How about the school first, then ice cream later as a reward for our efforts,” June said.

  “Okay,” Emma said. “You’re the boss, I’m just your chauffeur for the day, Madam.”

  “Oh, Emma.” June laughed.

  The red brick junior high school was on the other side of town, past the movie house with its two cinemas, past the post office and the First National bank and the dry cleaners and Sal’s drugstore with its red-topped chrome stools and the best ice cream sodas on the Cape.

  Emma pulled into the school’s driveway and stopped the motor. The engine made pinging noises as it cooled. They sat looking for a minute at the low brick buildings shaded by trees, languid in the heat. June coughed in the dusty air. She pulled down the visor to check her face in the mirror.

  “I hope it’s open, I didn’t even think to ask.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be someone here,” Emma said, stepping out of the car. “A janitor, or secretary.” She opened the back door so Claire and Evie could scramble out. Evie squinted in the light. Claire ducked her head and scuffed her sneakers in the dust.

  “Well, let’s go,” June said, gathering up her purse and perching her sunglasses on top of her head.

  Emma was the first to reach the heavy wooden doors. “This brings back memories,” she said, pushing open the doors and breathing in the air that smelled of chalk dust and pencil erasures, waxed floors and old wood. It was dark inside and they all stood a moment waiting for their eyes to adjust.

  “You mean with Robbie?”

  “No, with me. I went to school here. Back in the Stone Age,” she said, winking at the girls.

  “I didn’t know that.” June looked around the dim interior. “What do you think, girls? Claire, Evie? Should we take a peek in a couple of classrooms?”

  The girls were strangely subdued and June didn’t blame them. The building, dark and airless, brought back memories of her own school days. The long hours sitting in class, trying not to slouch in the uncomfortable wooden chairs; the droning voices of the teachers; and the smell of congealed grease and over-cooked cauliflower coming from the cafeteria. The daily humiliations of her changing body, the loud guffaws of boys, their bodies grown gangly and awkward, faces marred with acne. When the girls were out of earshot, June reached over and touched Emma’s arm.

  “I’m glad I’m not twelve,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t want to do it all over again.”

  “You can say that again.” Emma nervous laugh sounded like a horse’s whinny. “It’s much easier being a grown up. Most of the time.” Then she made a face and tittered again.

  Claire and Evie had wandered down the hall. They were peering through the glass panel of a classroom door. Science exhibits and posters hung on the wall. The circulatory system of the human body, diagrams of plants and animal skeletons. The girls’ sneakers shuffled on the smooth stone floor, yellowed from years of wax. Emma’s and June’s high heels clicked and echoed. They came to the cafeteria with its rows of Formica tables and metal chairs, speckled linoleum on the floor. In a week’s time it would be filled with students, banging their metal trays on the rail by the steam tables, the boys joshing and fooling around, girls tittering, checking the starched bows in their hair.

  “I think I’ve seen enough,” Evie said, sighing like a grown up. “Let’s go outside.”

  June reached over and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “It’s going to be fun. You’ll meet lots of new kids. It’ll be an adventure.”

  “Maybe.” Evie’s look was skeptical.

  Emma gave Claire a sympathetic look. “What about you, Claire. Are you excited about starting school?”

  Claire shrugged. “I guess.”

  June looked sympathetically at her daughters. Change was always hard.

  Emma pulled a compact out of her bag and applied bright coral lipstick to her lips. “Why don’t we all get an ice cream soda and do a little window shopping before we head on over to the five and ten. I saw in the paper that they’re having a sale on notions and I need to stock up on thread and things. I’ve decided to give this dressmaking venture a try.”

  They moved toward the square of light coming through the pane of glass in the front door. Halfway to the door Claire stopped. She looked straight ahead at her mother’s retreating back.

  “I feel funny.”

  June whirled around, alarmed. “Claire?”

  Claire stiffened and fell to the ground, her body rigid, limbs twitching, her face a gargoyle’s mask. June was unable to move. She was rooted to the spot surely as if she had turned to stone.

  “Claire?” It was Emma who rushed to her side, knelt down on the cool tiled floor and loosened the top button of Claire’s blouse.

&nbs
p; Evie looked at her sister in horror. She’d only seen her have a seizure like this once before and terror flashed across her face. June clamped her hand over her mouth and sank to her knees. Oh god, oh god. When will this ever end? The medicine must not be working anymore. They’d have to go back to the doctors, raise Claire’s dosage or try something new. An image of Claire bound in a straitjacket in the decrepit cell of a mental ward flashed through her mind. No, no. It was a nightmare.

  Blessedly, the seizure stopped. Emma removed Claire’s sandals and loosened the button on the waistband of her shorts. Claire was resting quietly on the floor now. Her eyes opened and she stared at Emma. “What happened?”

  Emma stroked her brow. “You had some kind of a seizure.” She looked at June. “I think we’d better take her to the hospital.”

  June shook her head. “There’s no need. This isn’t the first time.”

  Emma studied June’s face. “All right.” She stood and brushed off her dress. “But we’d better get her home then.”

  “I’m okay, now,” Claire said, struggling to sit up. She pushed the hair off her face. There was spittle on her chin. She looked at her mother accusingly. “You promised we’d have ice cream sodas at Sal’s”.

  June and Emma exchanged a look.

  “Another time,” June said. “I think you should rest now.”

  “You can’t lock me in my room forever. It’s not going to make it go away.” Claire stood up from the floor, waving away all attempts to help her. She stalked outside and climbed into the backseat of the Buick.

  June gazed at her daughter’s form hunched inside the car. Emma had parked in the shade, but it must be sweltering in there. “Evie, honey, go outside and keep your sister company, I want to talk to Mrs. Sanders for a minute.”