The Trouble with Joe Read online

  “I wish my parents could have come,” she said. “It would have been good for them. Rose always sets my mother on her ear. By the time she leaves one of these gatherings, Mother acts almost human.”

  “They’ll come when they can.”

  “Maybe for the Fourth or Labor Day. They should be back from Europe by then. Maybe we should have another party.”

  He didn’t respond. Joe, who lived for parties, for family gatherings, for excuses to celebrate, remained silent.

  “And maybe we shouldn’t.” She felt her shoulders slump in defeat. “Maybe we shouldn’t even have this one.”

  “Don’t start, Sam.” His voice was so restrained it seemed charged with emotion.

  She was immediately contrite, but there was no point in apology. Both of them knew there was more that she hadn’t said. “I’m going to change.”

  Their bedroom at the head of the stairs was large, filled with plants and faded antique quilts. A king-size bed loomed from a corner, an altar to sex that had once been so perfect Sam had half expected to die in Joe’s arms. Now she avoided the bed as she gathered her clothes, just as she avoided thinking about what had just passed between them in the dining room. She was learning to avoid everything except the moment. Yesterday’s retreat into memory had only made Joe’s late arrival home last night that much harder to bear. Thoughts of the future were too painful to consider.

  She heard the first horn honking as she stepped out of the shower. Some of Joe’s family lived more than four hours away, so she knew they must have left home at dawn. By the time she started downstairs again wearing the new dress she’d bought for the occasion, the house was filling up with people.

  She greeted Joe’s brothers and sisters, his nieces and nephews and the occasional cousin as she pushed her way into the kitchen where Rose, Joe’s mother, was already holding court.

  “I brought a few things. Just a few, don’t you dare say a word, not one,” Rose warned. “Just some spaghetti. And Johnny shot a turkey for me last fall that was taking up too much room in my freezer.”

  “And pies?” Sam asked.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” Sam threw her arms around Rose and held on for dear life. There was a substantial amount to hold on to. Rose was large, not plump but big boned and rangy like her son. Her hair was a salt-and-pepper bristle that stood out from her rawboned face like a halo. Everyone who knew her thought she was beautiful.

  “Just think, you and my Joey been married now for four whole years. And this house.” Rose squeezed harder. “This house is something, Sammy. Something like out of some magazine. Teddy was just saying it ought to be written up somewhere, weren’t you, Teddy?”

  Samantha looked over Rose’s shoulder at Johnny’s wife, red-haired, long-legged Teddy, who had been a Giovanelli long enough to roll with the punches. “Something very similar,” Teddy said.

  “And all that food on the table. You’re a regular cook, Sammy. A real Giovanelli woman. I’ve had to slap hands already. Two times already. We’ve gotta get somebody to guard the table till everybody else gets here, or there won’t be nothing left. Nothing.” Rose frowned, as if she had just announced the end of civilization.

  “I’ll guard, Mama,” Teddy said.

  “You, you’ll eat yourself silly and not gain an ounce for evidence.”

  “Watch me.” Teddy stationed herself in the doorway, but she didn’t say a word to the herd of children who snitched a slice of cheese apiece as they raced through the room.

  More family streamed in, followed by friends and neighbors. Reluctantly Sam separated herself from Rose. Joe was one of seven children, the second oldest boy of three. Francis was two years older and Johnny two years younger. Behind the boys, as if they had waited to make a more impressive entrance, one girl had arrived each year, each as stunning as the next. Now the Giovanelli tribe had grown to such proportions that Sam had to keep a written list so that no one was forgotten on holidays. All Rose’s children had married young and presented the world with more just like them.

  All except Joe and Sam.

  The din increased as the day wore on, but Sam relished the noise. Surrounded by family, by neighbors and close friends, she could almost forget that all was not well in her marriage. She saw Joe at the edge of a group of adults, Joe spiking a volleyball over a net strung between a magnolia and a pine, Joe chatting with Polly and other teachers from both Foxcove Elementary and the high school.

  But the places where she didn’t see him were the most significant. She never saw him with his sisters’ babies in the crook of each arm as he crooned lullabies in the front porch rocker. She didn’t see him passionately arguing politics with Francis, or holding a weeping Teresa, whose husband, Jeff, had just shipped out on a naval destroyer. He hovered at the edge of real involvement. Most important, she never saw him anywhere close enough to touch.

  Not until Rose declared it was time.

  A corner of the living room was heaped high with housewarming gifts. One of them was a ship’s bell, a gift from Teresa and Jeff to hang on the front porch. Rose took it outside and tested it herself, and when everyone had gathered around, she called Samantha and Joe to stand beside her.

  “I guess I’m the family matriarch,” she said. “Joe’s papa should be here to say these things, but he’s watching from up above, I know. So here goes. Joe and Sam have been married four years today. And in those years they took a terrible old store with rats and mice and broken glass and hay and dirt and—”

  “Enough, Mama,” Joe said.

  Everybody laughed.

  “And everything there shouldn’t have been,” she continued. “Everything! The stories Sammy could tell. Anyway, they made this out of it. Now I know that anything is possible.” She turned to Sam and beamed. “And while I can, I want to say something about their marriage.”

  Sam didn’t move, but she stiffened with dread and her smile felt as if someone had painted it on her face. Then she felt Joe take her hand. She wove her fingers through his to keep him beside her.

  “First time Joe brought Sam home, I didn’t know what he was getting into,” Rose said. “She didn’t weigh ten pounds soaking wet. And she didn’t know how to hug. And she didn’t know how to yell at anybody, especially my Joey. Now she hugs and yells, and I can swear she eats a little, sometimes. This marriage doesn’t work out, I’ll marry her off to somebody else in the family. She’s as good a Giovanelli as anybody born with the name, and I’m proud to call her my daughter.”

  Rose opened her arms, and Sam went into them to the applause and hoots of everyone gathered there. Someone turned up the music, and their carefully cultivated lawn became a dance floor. Francis came up to swing his mother into a slow dance right on the porch, and Sam turned to Joe.

  “Will you dance with me?”

  He held out his arms, and she stepped into them as courageously as she had the first night they’d met.

  He waltzed her down the steps to catcalls and hoots, then he pulled her closer. “You look terrific in that dress.”

  She flushed with pleasure. “Short enough for you?”

  He ran his hand down her side. “Nearly.”

  Her entire body reacted to his touch. She was like a starving woman who had just been thrown a crust of bread. “Are you having fun?”

  “It’s a great party. All your hard work shows.”

  “You were right about the food. There was enough for an army, and now it’s almost all gone.”

  “When I was a kid we were never sure where our next meal was coming from, but we were always sure when it came we’d enjoy every bite.”

  Sam moved a little closer. “The party should be breaking up soon. Most of your family’s got a long way to drive, and some people are moving on to the Warwicks’ at seven.”

  “Were we inv
ited?”

  “Sure. But we’re not going.”

  “We’re not?”

  “I’m not. This is all the partying I can manage for one day. Unless somebody suggests a private party for two.”

  “We can take a bottle of wine out to the lake.”

  “Pond.”

  It was an old argument. “Lake.”

  “Either one’ll do if I get you all to myself.” She thought he tensed, but she couldn’t be sure. “Joe, I’ve missed you. If I was out of line yesterday, that’s the reason.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been away so much. It’s been a busy year.”

  “It’s been a tough year.” She searched his face. “For both of us. But it’s going to be tougher if we don’t come through this together.”

  “We’re together.”

  She couldn’t argue; this wasn’t the right place. And besides, she wanted him to be right. She wanted to believe that they were together, that the events of the past six months hadn’t destroyed their marriage, that they could come through their hard times stronger, closer, happier.

  “I always want to be together,” she said.

  Another couple appeared a few feet away. Sam realized Johnny was closing in with Teddy in his arms. He was a shorter, heavier version of Joe, and although he looked a decade older, she saw with a sinking heart that his best younger-brother leer was firmly in place.

  “You two look at each other in bed like you’re looking at each other now, you’ll make Mama a grandma again.” Johnny winked. “Got to pass the Giovanelli genes along, Joey.”

  Sam forced a smile. “Teddy, make your husband behave.”

  “Listen, you married one just like him. You tell me if Joey does anything you say,” Teddy said.

  “Hey, a man’s too well behaved, he can’t make babies,” Johnny said. “Mama’s not getting any younger. She told me to tell you, she wants a grandbaby for Christmas.”

  Sam answered before Joe could. “Well, you’ll have to tell Mama she asked too late. We already bought her a nice new set of towels. Now go away so I can make eyes at my husband.”

  “Just so it leads to something.” Johnny swung Teddy away, and Sam and Joe were alone again.

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “Johnny ever presses his legs together, he won’t be able to think,” Joe said.

  She felt Joe’s rage and shame in every inch of flesh that touched hers. She tried to pull him closer. “It’s not Johnny’s fault. Every one of you kids was raised to think you were God’s gift to the next generation.”

  “The music stopped.”

  It had, and people were beginning to drift away. Desperately she tried to think of something to cheer him, something that would make him stay by her side. She thought of the fort, Joe’s pride and joy, and the battle royal that was undoubtedly being staged right now by their nieces and nephews. “Do you want to walk down to the pond and see if any of the kids are still there?” she asked.

  He looked at her as if she had asked him to strip naked in front of their guests. She realized with horror that perhaps she had done just that. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...”

  He shrugged off her hand. “I’m going to say goodbye to Chuck and Sally.”

  He didn’t run, but he was gone before she could reply. She watched him stride away, a lithe, male animal with the broken heart of a little boy. She listened to the shouts and laughter of the people she loved most in the world, and she wondered how she could feel so alone.

  * * *

  JOE HAD ALWAYS loved parties. He had never longed for silence as a child. He was comforted by laughter, by loud music and voices raised in argument. Now he could hardly wait for the rest of his family and guests to go home.

  Except that then he would be left alone with Sam.

  He said goodbye to Teresa and her brood and turned to the next car. Johnny had drunk too much, something he only did at occasions like this one when he knew Teddy would drive him home. As Joe watched, Johnny hung his head out the passenger window and crooked his finger. His eyes were too bright and his grin too cocksure, but he was still Johnny, Joe’s little brother, the Johnny he had fought for and fought with all the years of his childhood.

  Joe approached warily. Erin, Shannon and Patrick fought in the back seat of Johnny’s green sedan. With a surname like Giovanelli Johnny and Teddy had chosen Irish names for their kids. It was a family scandal.

  “You had too much to drink. Go home,” Joe said.

  “’Member what I said.” Johnny’s smile widened.

  Joe started to turn away, but Johnny had never learned when to stop. “You get busy on that baby, Joey boy. You don’t know how to do it, I can give you a tip or two.” He gave a broad wink.

  Joe twisted Johnny’s shirt collar in his hand before he realized what he was doing. He saw Johnny’s smile die and awareness make a slow return to his eyes. He twisted harder. “What Sam and I do is our business,” he said softly. “You remember that, and you practice keeping your mouth shut. Understand?”

  Joe heard a gasp behind him and knew who it had come from. He dropped his hand, and Johnny fell back in the seat. It had all happened so quickly that the kids were still fighting and pushing, oblivious to the front-seat version of the same thing.

  “Johnny, I’m sorry,” Sam said, stepping around Joe. “It must be the heat. Who would believe it’s not even summer yet?” She was smiling a perfect finishing-school smile. “Now you have a safe trip home, and thanks so much for coming. It wouldn’t be a party without you.” She stepped away and Teddy, every bit as refined and tactful, raised her hand in a wave. In a moment the sedan shot out of sight.

  “Joe—”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t say a damn thing.” He stalked away, covering the ground to the house in a long stride that got him there in record time.

  There was no one inside. His mother had been the first to leave, and the rest of the family had drifted away afterward, with Teresa and Johnny the last to go. A few neighbors and friends still strolled the grounds, but Joe knew that Sam would say his farewells.

  In the bathroom he stripped and stood under a cool shower. The house wasn’t air-conditioned. There was still work to do on the wiring—one of his summer projects—and the heat made him regret that he hadn’t completely updated it before he sanded floors and built cabinets. Sam insisted that she didn’t mind, but he minded. He was a powder keg waiting for the right match to set him off. Today it had been his brother; tomorrow it might be something as simple as a thermostat one degree above what he considered acceptable.

  He hung his head and let the water sluice over his hair. The sight of his own body disgusted him, and he closed his eyes. But even with his eyes closed he knew he was the picture of youth and masculinity. He ran five miles every morning and worked out in the afternoons in the weight room at the high school gym. His muscles were well-defined, his legs and chest covered with silky, dark hair. In graduate school he had posed nude for a senior-level art class to help with finances, and he had seen in charcoal renderings exactly how he appeared to women.

  And none of it mattered.

  Out of the shower and dressed once again he took his time going downstairs. The house was absolutely quiet, and the only noise from outside was the trilling of a mockingbird. He called Sam’s name and received no reply. For a moment he wondered if she had left, too, if she had finally gotten tired of his absences and his anger and his silence. Then he realized where she had gone.

  The path to the lake crunched under his feet. Under the trees just at the forest edge he stood and watched her picking dandelions. Her new dress was the color of spring grass, a clear meadow green with sprigs of flowers dancing over it, and her golden hair floated behind her in the light breeze.

  “Sam?”

  She
straightened and turned. “You look cooler.”

  “You ought to give it a try.”

  “I was considering a swim, so I waded. But the water’s still ice-cold. None of the children were able to get in, either.”

  “We have a houseful of flowers. What are you doing with those?”

  Sam looked down at the dandelions. When she looked up, he had moved closer. “Actually, I was thinking about Corey.”

  “What for?”

  She sat on the grass and patted the space beside her. He joined her, even though it felt like a trap.

  “I was watching your brothers and sisters with their kids today. The way a child is raised matters so much. Nobody here today was a perfect parent. Francis yells too much, and Magdalena is spoiling Sarah rotten because she has asthma. But they’re good parents. They care, and their kids know it. The kids come first with all of them.”

  “What does this have to do with Corey?” He felt her shift beside him and knew she was looking at him, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. He knew what he would see if he turned: the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

  “What happens to kids when they don’t have that kind of devotion, Joe? What happens when nobody loves them, and nobody puts them first? How do they feel about themselves when they grow up? We’ve got prisons full of people like that, prisons and other kinds of institutions. When are we going to learn?”

  “You can’t change the whole world. You’re a professional. You know what happens. Some parents grew up in homes like you’re describing, and they don’t know how to give love. They expect it from their kids, and when they find out what being a parent is really like, they abuse or ignore their kids altogether.”

  “I know, but it’s one thing when I’m talking about kids I’ve never seen and another when I’m talking about a child I care about.”

  “You shouldn’t.”