Eva had a cigarette in one hand and Dylan's hand in the other. I don't want to do this. I have to do this. I have to do this...I can't do this. She took a long drag on her cigarette. It didn't help. Before she knew it, they were at the table. Her mother's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Dylan led her to a chair and handed her another cigarette. I can do this.
"Eva?" Deirdre leaned toward her. "Eva, are you all right?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, Mother," Eva said. She plucked a lighter from her pocket and quickly lit her cigarette. "I'm fine." She forced herself to smile. "How are you? How was the trip out here?" Cal caught her eye over her mother's head. His expression was unreadable, but she knew there was something lurking underneath the mask. Anger, most likely, or disgust at having to be in such close proximity to people he considered less than the dirt under his shoes. As though we have anything to feel so superior about, Eva thought. If the last few years had taught her anything, it was the fragility of wealth.
"It was fine," Deirdre said. "Are you smoking more?"
Lily immediately lit a cigarette of her own. Jack held in a grin. It was exactly the sort of thing Rose would have done at her age.
Dylan glanced over at him. "We aren't too late, are we?"
Jack shook his head. "Not at all." You couldn't have gotten here at a better time.
"We would've made it sooner, but someone…" Dylan shot Lily a look, "…had to stop and give a lecture about the silencing of the working class."
Lily took a drag of her cigarette. "I didn't see you doing it," she said, blowing a smoke ring at Dylan.
Cal was transfixed by her. He couldn't believe how much like Rose she was.
"That man did ask," Eva said. "Unlike the first two."
The conversation flowed smoothly, but there was an undercurrent of tension no one wanted to touch. Deirdre avoided looking at Rose, even when speaking to her. Eva chain-smoked. Lily had to literally bite her tongue to keep from launching into a political diatribe after Cal made a comment about the filthy streets of Los Angeles. Dylan kept finding reasons for Jack and Rose to tell stories. Deirdre found them fascinating, and they kept everyone else quiet, even Cal, who was channeling the majority of his energy into staring at Rose without being noticed.
"And that's how we ended up in Venice," Jack said.
"And so you just went?" Deirdre asked. "You didn't plan it at all?" There was a note of awe in her voice.
"Well, you could say we planned to end up there eventually," Rose said. "We have a list of places to end up eventually." She smiled at the memory of Jack in a gondola. It was one of the last memories she had that included images.
He took her hand. "That was a nice few months, wasn't it?" He lightly rubbed her fingers. "I wish we could go back," he said.
"I do, too," Rose said. "But it isn't so bad here." It was clear to everyone that neither of them were discussing geography anymore.
"My, you certainly do a lot of traveling," Deirdre said. "I don't think I've ever known anyone who spent that much time away from home."
"Wherever we are is our home," Rose explained. "We didn't have a permanent place of our own until a few years ago." Jack's grip on her hand tightened. She laid her other hand over his. "But tell us about yourself," she said. "We know Eva quite well already, and she's heard these stories."
"Yes," Jack said, his eyes on Cal. "What have you been doing since the last time we saw you?" He hadn't planned to say it. As much as he couldn't stand Cal, he didn't want to ruin the whole evening for everyone else. He liked Deirdre. She was reserved, but sweet; nothing at all like the kind of woman he had expected her to be. And he had already started to think of Eva as a third child. But Cal's incessant staring at Rose was infuriating.
Cal's reaction showed on his face for only a moment before it was replaced by a calm mask. So, that's what he wants. His dark eyes were hard. Fine.
What is he talking about? Deirdre wondered, puzzled. How would they have known each other? In their heyday, she and Cal had associated with a very elite circle; it was the sort of circle people had been known to hatch intricate plots and alliances to become a part of. Money alone wasn't enough to gain entrance. The nouveau riche were strictly prohibited. Jack, despite his obvious security in the middle of an economic crisis, didn't come anywhere near the poorest family in their former circle; nor did he have the necessary familial and cultural capital. She sneaked a quick glance at Rose. Could it be her? But wouldn't she have known her, too? It was feasible that a man could have escaped her notice, but a woman?
"You knew each other?" Deirdre asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her confusion.
"You could say that," Cal said. He sounded as though he were biting the ends off his words. "Though I really only knew one of them."
*****
Eva threw her head back and gulped in the cool night air. Her head ached. Her stomach seemed to have dropped out of her; it shifted from nauseous to gnawing with hunger with every few seconds. Dylan's hand was like a feather on her waist. She grabbed it and pulled him closer.
"I'm sorry," he said into her hair. "That shouldn't have happened."
She sighed. "I knew something would go wrong. I could tell from the way he talked last night that something would go wrong." She slumped against him, exhausted. "He won't try to stop us from getting married, but he won't let it be easy, either."
"My dad shouldn't have said that. He knew what would happen."
"He had his reasons, and I'm betting they were pretty good. Anyone else would have just gone with it, but not my father. Not the great Caledon Hockley." Disgust thickened her voice. "He has to win everything, and it doesn't matter if it's hopeless, if there's nothing to be done, if there's nothing left to grab. He's determined to keep going even if all he manages to do is hasten the destruction of what he wants so badly."
"You're shaking," Dylan said, hugging her tighter. "C'mon. Let's get you something to eat." He kissed her cheek. "Or at least some water."
She smiled wanly. "Could you have chosen a more difficult girl to fall in love with?"
"You're not what's difficult. It's everyone else that's making things difficult, acting like children over something that ended a long time ago."
"It ended technically, but not actually."
"What do you mean?"
"The situation they were all involved in is technically over, but in some ways it never actually ended. Being apart probably made them think it was, but all it took was five minutes in the same room for it all to come back. Mostly for your father and mine, I'm guessing. It doesn't surprise me that he's held onto a grudge this long."
"He married someone else, though."
"Yeah, but imagine I left you for someone else and then you saw me again years later. How would you feel?"
"Point taken."
"And let's say you had an ego the size of Russia and the man I left you for was, by society's standards, in every way inferior to you."
"I—"
"But," she continued, "in the end, his life turned out better. Wouldn't that be a bit hard to accept? Though that isn't an excuse for acting the way he does sometimes."
"You know, you remind me a little of my dad sometimes."
"I hope that isn't why you're marrying me," she said with a quick chuckle.
Dylan gasped. "How did you know?"
"Didn't you just tell me?" She turned around and took his hand. "C'mon. I believe you said something about food."
They found a small all-night diner with thick black coffee and cigarette-burned tables. The stress of the past few days melted away, and for a few minutes it was just like they were back at their usual place in Wellesley. Dylan did quick sketch of the people around them. Eva wrote a few pages in one of her notebooks. The waitresses were staring daggers at them when they finally finished sharing their last cigarette and left.
The house was dark when they came in. From behind Lily's closed door the rat-tat-tat of typing could be heard.
"Probably typing a manifesto of her own," Dylan said.
"It would be a shame to disturb her," Eva said. "She really is brilliant."
Without thinking about it, they moved closer to each other. Dylan's hand found the small of her back. "Yeah, but it's late. Time for bed."
Eva tilted her head up. "It is," she said, punctuating the statement with a kiss.
*****
"Are you mad at me?" Rose didn't answer. She sat up straight in the chair, hands folded in her lap. Jack was perched on the bed on the other side of the room. He paused, his left shoe half unlaced. "Rose?" They had barely spoken since leaving the disaster the dinner attempt had become. That in itself wasn't as disturbing as the fact that he hadn't been able to read her body language. It was as if, for the first time, she had retreated into some hidden place where even he couldn't follow.
"I'm not angry, Jack. I'm...I don't know what I am." She laughed joylessly. "I don't understand what just happened. All of that was supposed to be over. We weren't supposed to have to fight with anyone ever again." She shook her head. "I thought maybe..."
"It would be different?" Jack asked, kneeling in front of her.
"Something like that," she said.
He took her hands in his. "I should've kept my mouth shut." Silver clicked against silver as their fingers laced together.
"Your ring hit my ring," Rose said, her mouth turning up slightly at the corners. She ran a finger over the surface of her ring. In her mind, she could see the design that formed a border around the J in the center. Jack had the almost the same ring; his had a different design and an R. "I'll never forget watching you make these," she said. Her voice took on a dreamy quality. "I had never seen anything like it. There isn't anything you can't do with your hands, is there?"
"It isn't my hands I need to worry about," he said wryly. "It's my mouth."
"You can't unsay it, and I'm not sorry you did. I should be, I suppose, but after he spent the better part of an hour staring at me..." She shrugged. "I guess that's just the type of woman I am. Not only will I go to bed with anyone, but I have no conscience about offending other people."
"Don't you say that." Jack moved forward so he was almost in her lap. "Don't you go repeating what he said like he has any clue what the hell he's taking about."
"Actually, what he said was—"
"I know what he said." Jack touched her face. "And I should've hit him." Anger flared up in the pit of his stomach as Cal's voice echoed in his ears. He had almost hit him. His fist had been in the air, he had been just about to spring forward, when Rose's hand had landed on it, stopping him.
"That wouldn't have helped," Rose said with a sigh. "It would have just made things worse. And besides," she added, grinning, "it wouldn't be fair to hit him if I can't see it."
Jack wrapped his arms around her. She put her arms around his neck and slid out of the chair. He leaned back and caught her in his lap. "I'm sorry things turned out so badly," he said. "I'm sorry you were talked to like that."
She pressed her forehead to his. "He said some rude things about you, too."
"Yeah, but it's nothing I hadn't heard before. Poor? I was. Dirty? Only when I couldn't find some water. Worthless? Only if you thought so."