Good Graces - Lesley Kagen [74]
But once again, God turns a deaf ear to me because Mother didn’t do any of that.
She says cutely, “How silly of me. I’m getting as absentminded as Bertha Galecki. Thank you for reminding me, honey, there is a little something I wanted to bring up to the girls.” She reaches down into the front pocket of her white capris and when she draws her hand out from under the table she’s got on a ring and it’s not little. It’s by far the fanciest, shiniest diamond I have ever seen.
“Surprise! Father Mickey brought over the annulment papers last night! We’re getting married at the end of September after it cools off. I’m going to wear a tailored suit from Marshall Field’s and we’ll have a reception party and take our honeymoon in Miami Beach,” Mother says, like she can see it all now. “Lying on the sand under a starry night, those warm waves rolling over us . . .” She puts her head down on Dave’s shoulder. “We’ll be like Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity!”
“No, you won’t! You will not!” Troo shoves her chair back so hard that it wenches my arm that I was using to hold her in place. This reminds me so much of the night out on the farm when Mother told us she was going to marry Hall. “You can’t! He said . . . he promised me that if—”
Mother thinks she’s being funny, but what she’s really doing is throwing a humble pie into my sister’s face when she starts humming the “Love and Marriage” song. The one that Troo’s been taunting her with every chance she gets.
“Trooper . . . you know what we can do . . . we can . . .” I’m trying to think of something to tell her, to give her, anything that is gonna make this all better, but she sweeps her breakfast off the table and barges out the screen door.
“Wait up!” I yell, but Dave stops me on my way to catch up with her.
“Let her be, Sally. She needs to blow off some steam,” he says, bending down and picking up the plate pieces.
“But . . . she’s gonna . . .” I don’t know what she’s gonna do exactly, but it won’t be good, it never is.
Dave says, “You can catch up with her at the park. She just needs a little time to take this all in.”
My neck skin crawls at the sound of his always-cool Danish voice, his everything-is-going-to-be-okay-just-you-wait-and-see way of looking at everything. His green eyes. My green eyes. His long legs like mine. Dave being sensitive just like me. That was so nice for a while. It made me feel like I belonged, that I was a pea in his pod, but all of a sudden, I don’t care about any of that. I want to shake Dave and shout, Stop bein’ such a cold fish! Be fiery for once! Bring Troo back!
“Wait’ll they get a load a this at the park today,” Mother says, holding up the ring so she can admire it from a distance. The sunlight coming through the kitchen window catches the diamond and a hundred tiny squares of dancing light surround us. It is just blinding.
This has gotta be the biggest Fourth party ever.
The grassy part of the park is jammed with kids of all sizes and ages. Everybody’s got a bike or coaster wagon or a baby carriage decorated to the nines. After the contests are over there will be games, and then everybody in the neighborhood will sit down together at picnic tables to eat hamburgers and hot dogs, kielbasa sausage, brat-wurst and Dixie cups of ice cream and as much free lemonade as they want.
Dave brought along a folding chair for Mother and set it at the edge of Jack Hoyt Woods next to Mrs. Callahan, who saved her a spot.
Dave pins on his judge’s badge and disappears into the crowd after giving me a chuck on the chin and Mother a kiss on the cheek. I would usually