Joseph’s free hand gripped the armrest of his rocking chair tightly. “What did she do now?” he asked. “I’ll pay for whatever the damage is. Thank you for coming to me instead. I thought she had grown out of that mischievous streak—”
“Sir, no, she didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She didn’t?”
“No. I—I’m here tonight because I’m in love with her. I want to ask your blessing to marry her.”
Miriam and Joseph drew in a sharp intake of breath simultaneously, Miriam grabbing her daughter’s arm with a viselike claw.
Joseph rose to his feet and Tony followed suit. “No,” he said stonily, then turned toward the open window and bellowed Evelyn’s name.
Evelyn struggled out of Miriam’s grip and ran out to the porch, stopping short at her father’s face.
“Did you know he was coming here to ask this?” Joseph asked her.
She nodded, afraid to speak.
“This—this was the boy—all that time ago—？”
“There’s—” Her voice cracked hoarsely, and she took a deep breath before trying again. “There’s never been anyone else, Papa. I love him.”
“I forbid this!”
Evelyn looked up at him, drawing from a reserve of courage that surprised even her. “You can’t.”
“What?”
“You can say no, but you can’t stop me from loving him. And you can’t stop us from getting married.”
“Evelyn,” Tony warned.
Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
Tony came to stand between Joseph and his daughter. “Sir, no. I won’t do that without your permission.” He turned back to Evelyn. “Go back in the house.” Then quieter. “Please.”
“Don’t you tell her what to do!” Joseph grabbed his daughter’s wrist, but she flung his hand off.
“Don’t either of you tell me what to do! I won’t sit here and let the two of you negotiate over me like I’m some prized goat. Papa, I love him. And you should know that the only reason we haven’t run off is because he wanted to get your blessing. So you might as well give it unless you want to lose me.”
Her breathing was ragged, and she could feel not just her mother’s presence at the window but Helen’s, Vivie’s, and the children’s too. She didn’t care. She was gambling everything on her father being unwilling to sit shiva for her—or that he would later forgive her even if he did.
“Mr. Bergman, I—this—isn’t how I wanted this to go. You have my word that unless I have your blessing, nothing will happen. I’m sorry.” He looked at Evelyn, pleading silently with her. “Family is everything,” he said finally, then lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it, and went back down the porch steps to his car. No one spoke as he drove away.
“Papa,” Evelyn said finally. “Look at me, Papa.”
But Joseph walked past her into the house without a word.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
There were three places set at the table when I came down for breakfast. I shook my head.
“Are you expecting company?” I asked my grandmother. She was at the stove, cooking a monstrously huge breakfast.
She turned around. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Joe is in the shower.”
I pressed two fingers to the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “Is this how you were with Mom and Aunt Joan?”
“If they’d been your age and single, I would have been.” She turned back to the stove and slid the contents from the pan onto a plate.
I sat heavily at the table. “I don’t need to be with someone to be happy, Grandma.”
“Who said you did?” she asked, bringing a plate to me. “But you’re not happy now. And if you don’t try something different, you never will be.”
I opened my mouth to reply that I was happy, but nothing came out. If I was happy, I wouldn’t have pulled away the night before, because I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences. I would have acted on what I wanted.
Instead, I changed the subject.
“We’re going out to the island today. Do I wear a bathing suit or regular clothes?”
She squinted at me in concern. “Joe has the tides timed right?”
“He said he does.”
“I’m too old to steal a boat to come save you.”
“You—what?”
She waved her hand. “Another time.”