Barnegat Bay - 10. Chapter 10

When I went to report to Claire, after she came out of church, I realized Spence hadn’t really given me an answer. Claire was with her parents, starting their usual Sunday lunch at the middle-fancy of the three Barnegat beach clubs. Calling them that made them sound too sophisticated, but there was no better name. I slipped onto the chair Claire had kept for me, added my accustomed western omelet to their order, and chatted politely for a while about family and the upcoming election. Claire’s family didn’t like the Democrats or Franklin Roosevelt, but they’d grown to distrust Herbert Hoover. Still, they weren’t sure how they wanted to vote.

Separate from that, when Claire and I had a private moment, I whispered to her that Spence and I had had our quiet talk. When we had another moment, she asked, “Was he honest?”

I smiled. “More than you’d believe.”

“What’s that mean?”

I wasn’t able to explain. We were at a small table for four, and though her parents had temporarily been distracted by greeting friends, they soon turned back to us. It was almost another hour before Claire and I were alone.

“What did you mean?” she quickly repeated. “About Spence?”

“Just that we were both really uncomfortable. Kind of defenseless. At one point, he mentioned ‘being taken to the woodshed.’”

Claire considered that, then admitted she didn’t understand.

“I think you underestimate him – that’s all. And he certainly doesn’t mean to hurt anybody – especially Mary. But he didn’t make any promises.”

Well, one. Which I wasn’t about to repeat.

“Did you ask him to?” Claire questioned.

I smiled again. “You know I couldn’t do that – I’m not that kind of man. And he’s not the kind who’d answer – frankly, it might be too personal for anyone. Even if the questions were coming from Mary’s father.”

“He wouldn’t know how to begin,” Claire dismissed. “He’s not an educated man.”

“I’m sure he’d protect his children.”

“Maybe. But he’d stumble through it.”

“What about your father?”

I looked across the dining room to where Claire’s very self-possessed dad was chatting with her mom and two of their friends. I was certain he’d defend his children, though I knew he’d also only finished high school. But it didn’t matter – he knew his world.

“He’d do it for me,” Claire admitted. “If I didn’t do it for myself first.”

I chuckled. I already knew that.

“But even if I asked him to speak up for Mary, he wouldn’t.”

“Why not? Doesn’t he know her well enough? Considering how long you’ve been friends.”

“Yes – she may as well be my sister. Or his third daughter.”

“Then he’d probably say something.”

“Only if I insisted – and reminded him that she really didn’t have anyone else – not a man who could influence others.” She hesitated. “I think you know that – in so many ways – Mary’s aunt is the strongest person in their family. She raised two sons when her first husband died, then found a suitable second one. And she did both of these while starting a business in Toms River and later expanding it to one here and another in Asbury Park – at least during the summers. She’s very good with even the toughest women, but she might be out of her range with Spence. He’d charm her without meaning to, and I don’t think she has defenses for that. She started as a very practical dressmaker, and though she knows how to choose clothes, she’s never personally been very attractive.”

I tried not to laugh. It was an observation I was raised not to make – or even consider.

“Spence simply has to understand he’s got to stop,” Claire went on. “It would be better if he did it himself. But if he can’t, then you’ve got to tell him.”

“He already knows,” I assured her. “Believe me, he has more brakes on himself than either of us could imagine. But he also makes wishes.”

“Well, in this case, he can’t.”

“He can do anything he wants, Claire.”

She gave me the unreceptive look I’d expected, but maybe I’d said that because I knew it was something she was trying to ignore.

“And Mary can go right along with him,” I continued. “We can’t stop them because we don’t have the right. I mean, what if your parents suddenly objected to me?”

She immediately laughed. “Why would they possibly do that?” She said that smiling and then holding my hand.

“Because I’m Jewish?” I said, grinning right back. Then I weakened. “Nominally.”

“They don’t care about that. They’re thrilled you’re a doctor.”

“And that you’ll have to move to New York?”

She laughed again. “They won’t care what I do once I’m safely married – they’ll think their job is done. That’s how they are with my sister.”

“Well, what if my family wanted you to convert? What would your parents do then? For that matter, what would you?”

I didn’t expect her to say, “But Doc I love you.” She wasn’t like that. But she smiled again, rubbing my hand and clearly knowing how little religion meant to me. It had slightly more hold on my parents, but they’d still never let it stop me from making a choice. And without reason – and a very good one – no matter how little I cared, I’d never leave the religion I was born into. But I wouldn’t make concessions to it, either.

As an answer, Claire simply kissed the back of my hand. “If you’re gonna throw theoreticals at me, I’ll go talk to Mary – see how she really feels.” Then she changed direction. “Or maybe I’ll take her off to the Rockies – to meet some of my brother’s college friends. Distract her from all these featherweight lifeguards.”

“And who’ll protect her from the college boys?” I asked, as amused.

Claire smiled at that. Or maybe she smiled at me, again making me realize there might be more going on than I understood – or that I ‘d let myself understand. I was kind of lazy that way, never really worrying about what happened at Barnegat. Weekends were my vacations – trips to an unimportant place where almost nothing had consequences.

But Claire didn’t kidnap Mary to the Rockies – to a world full of better dressed men with established families and bigger vocabularies. She didn’t introduce Mary to more easily approved bachelors. Though she did put several things at risk that I never thought she might. Still, she never jeopardized what was most important – us.

To begin with, she started giving me a bit more freedom. That isn’t to say that on weekends – especially Friday and Saturday evenings – we were ever that far apart. Most often, we were in our usual places at Jenkinson’s or nearby, close to each other, often making almost intimate conversation. I was clearly the man she preferred to be with, and I certainly favored her. I was also handy when she had social obligations with her parents. But we weren’t always together.

On the dance floor, both of us had other offers. I had the unfair advantage of asking, but Claire would steadily be asked. And once we were dating, we took advantage of associated privileges. When asked to dance, she’d look at me first, and I’d nod or shrug. When I was interested, I’d get her attention, and she’d wave me to “go ahead.” I knew I wasn’t the best dancer, and there was no reason to limit her fun.

Also, simply because of the way Barnegat summer families were, there was never a shortage of women. And with my good, if casually rumpled clothes, my New York manners, and the advantage of my handful of years, Spence was right – I could smile at any nineteen-or-twenty-year-old, and she’d happily try to keep her feet out from under mine. She might even pretend to follow my lead. Even more, she might teach me a few new steps, and I could trot them back to Claire.

Claire easily enjoyed herself. She’d dance with Al, or Mike, or Larry – or she’d go off with any other guy who randomly appeared. On Ladies’ Choice, I’d often see her picking Spence.

“Can you really talk with him when you’re moving that fast?” I’d joke. She knew “talk” was my euphemism.

“I wouldn’t lecture anyone over this music,” she correctly poked back.

But there were quieter times when I knew she did – when Al or Larry mentioned they’d seen Claire and Spence together over breakfast.

“Do you see him a lot during the week?” I’d casually ask. I wasn’t worried because I knew what she was after.

“Breakfast isn’t a good place for speeches, either,” she’d kid.

“Then when?”

She’d smile – though maybe wondering if my question was serious enough to consider.

“I’m not as direct as you are,” she’d finally offer. “With either Mary or Spence.”

“But you’re finding out what you want?”

“Mostly.” Then, enigmatically, she’d add: “Give me time.”

I laughed. “Sure. Sherlock Holmes of the beach. Or is there a female equivalent?”

“I don’t know. I don’t read mysteries.”

Instead, she’d gesture me to dance, and I’d happily follow. Despite any other opportunities, I still danced best with Claire. We had an easy rhythm, if not a highly technical skill. And I liked holding her and listening to the things she said. And looking into her eyes.

“What are you thinking?” she’d sometimes ask.

I grinned. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

And we’d laugh. Then someone would tap Claire’s shoulder, and she’d move on. And I’d ask a girl who’d been waiting on the side. So the point where Claire began to spend more time with Spence went right by me. Because it mainly happened during the week.