I shook my head.
“Jordan,” Jay said my name softly now, as if to disguise the threat that simmered just beneath. “Jordan, Jordan. We have to help each other, you and I. It’s the only way we’ll both get what we want.”
He sounded crazed, and I bit my lip and stared at the ground, afraid to say anything at all.
He walked over and put his hand on my arm, like he was about to give me hug. But then instead he looked me straight in the eye and smiled a little. “I really could destroy you.”
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, I was already three G&Ts deep by supper. The phone rang on in the distance, but it sounded muted to me now, far away. Daisy’s and Tom’s faces were fuzzy but somehow clear enough that I understood Tom was already drinking too much, too; his face was flushed. Maybe from too much sun playing polo today, or maybe from the whiskey, or maybe it was anger over finding my little note. It was hard to tell.
The telephone jangled again, and Daisy glared at Tom across the table. He scraped back his chair, then rushed off and answered the call. He spoke in the other room in hushed tones. Daisy buried her face in her hands. It was hard to believe he’d ever really leave Daisy. Go westward with Myrtle. But if I didn’t try to do what Jay asked, would he really destroy me? He had money and power and Mr. Hennessey’s talk about me, and maybe it wouldn’t even be all that hard.
Tom suddenly slapped the table, and I jumped. He’d come back from the telephone, his face even redder than before. “You think it’s all right for him to call you during supper, Daisy?” Tom sounded indignant.
Him?
“Who?” Daisy asked, but then the realization dawned on her, dawned on both of us. She opened her mouth, let out a sigh that sounded a little like a kitten mewing.
“Well, I’ve invited your lover to lunch here on Monday. We may as well all get to know each other better.” Tom’s voice was dripping with anger and sarcasm and maybe even a hint of sadistic delight.
Daisy frowned and her face turned pale, and Tom snickered and stood to pour more whiskey.
“Jordan, call Nick and invite him, too. We may as well make it a party,” Tom slurred, making his way back to the table.
“It’s too hot for a party,” I said, downing the rest of my drink, then standing up to make another. And I had no desire to see any more of Nick.
“Never mind,” Tom spoke roughly. “Daisy, you do it,” he commanded. “He’s your cousin.”
Daisy August 1922
NEW YORK
AND THEN THERE WE WERE: The hottest hour of the hottest day of August.
I felt a strange sort of déjà vu, for that other too-hot August day in Louisville, five years earlier. That day Rose dragged me to the almshouse and Jay pulled up alongside us, offering us a ride. I should’ve said no then, I thought now. I should’ve listened to Rose and turned down Jay’s ride. Nothing good came of the decisions I made when it was this hot. Nothing good would come from this lunch with Tom and Jay and Nick and Jordan. I knew it, and still, I let it happen. I’d even called up Nick like Tom had asked and invited him. Of course, Nick agreed. Nick agreed to everything that summer. If you looked up agreeable in Merriam-Webster’s I was pretty sure you’d see Nick’s photograph.
Jordan and I had put on our nicest white dresses for lunch, but even the effort of getting dressed had made us practically combustible. We’d landed on the couch, and we were fanning ourselves, when Nick and Jay arrived together. I heard the door, heard them walk down the hallway, then enter the parlor and say hello. And I immediately thought, This is a mistake. This is a terrible, terrible mistake. I thought of Jay and his awful creeping fingers at his pool the other day, and I had the urge to run out, to run upstairs, to hide away in my bedroom until everyone had gone home. But truly it was too hot to move, and so I didn’t. I just lay there on the couch, letting Jordan hold my hand and fan me.
The telephone rang again in the distance, and I heard Tom answer it. “He should’ve invited his woman in the city, too,” I said. “Then it really would be a party.”
Nick denied that such a thing could be true in that sweet innocent overearnest midwestern way he had of looking at the world. Agreeable and earnest. It occurred to me in that very moment that things were never going to work out between him and Jordan. Jordan was much too cynical. She could never stand for such earnestness over the long haul.
Jay stood across the room, dressed in a pink suit, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Tom’s voice elevated from the hall, but his words were still impossible to understand. Jay frowned and strode toward me. “He’s no good for you,” he said, his voice husky from the heat.
He leaned down toward me all of a sudden, grabbed me, and kissed me on the lips. He pressed hard, and it was so hot that I could barely breathe.
“Mama?” Pammy’s voice suddenly cut through the heat, and I sat up quickly and pushed Jay away hard enough that he stumbled a little. I put the back of my hand to my lips, speechless for a moment. What had she seen and what did she think?
I was shaking, but I held out my arms. “Come here, my precious.” Pammy ran in to hug me. Her nurse had dressed her in white, arranged her blond curls with a pink bow. “Don’t you look divine.” I kissed her soft damp forehead, her curls tickling my lips. My love for her suddenly struck deeper inside of me than anything I’d ever felt for any man.
“I weared my white dress. Just like you and Aunt Jordan.” She giggled, and I clung to her. Regret ratcheted its way from my stomach to my chest to my throat, bitter and hot. “Where’s Daddy?” Pammy asked now, like she could sense everything that was wrong about this moment. She pulled away from my arms and stared uneasily at both Nick and Jay.
“He’s gone in the other room for a moment…” I said.
Her eyes roamed slowly across Jay’s face. He smiled at her, and she frowned. And the way her face turned in that moment, it hit me that she would someday grow to be a woman. I wanted more for her than to be a fool. I never wanted men to treat Pammy the way they treated me. I wanted her to be brave and bold, and fearless and independent. I kissed her head again and felt tears welling up in my eyes.
“I’m a mother,” I announced to the whole room, like it was news. But then I looked Jay square in the eye. “I’m this little girl’s mother.”
Jay frowned, like he didn’t understand. But here I was, weeks later, answering that silly question he’d asked me at Nick’s. Why couldn’t we just erase the last three years? That was why. She was why.
Nick looked at me, thoughtful. “She’s a little you, isn’t she, Daisy?” he said.
His words burned my face, my heart. Pammy had to be better. I wanted so much better for her. I had to make sure she was better.
* * *