Chapter 39
CHAPTER 39
Bernie
Dan isn’t happy. In fact, he’s furious. His face is puce and angry saliva sprays from his lips as he marches around the kitchen.
“Shh,” I say as I place a finger over my lips and look over my shoulder toward my bedroom, where the door is slightly ajar. “You’ll wake the girls.”
“Dammit, Bernie, what were you thinking? Can you imagine if my customers found out? Where do you think Father Walsh gets his meat? Mrs. Dunne, his housekeeper, is one of my best customers.” Dan claps his hands and presses them down on the top of his head. “Oh, oh, and the Pearsons. Only a few years back they shipped their eldest daughter off to America because she was in the family way without a fella to marry. My God, Bernie, could you imagine what they’d say if they knew we were using those… those… those whatever they’re called.”
Dan stops pacing and lowers his hands. He glares at the kitchen table where I’ve unrolled the News of the World , and the contents that look a lot like teabags or lollipop wrappers are scattered around.
“They’re French letters, Dan.”
“They’re contraptions.”
“They could be the answers to all our problems.”
“Or they could bring us problems. If word got out, people would boycott us. We’d lose the roof over our head.”
I gasp. For a moment the thought is so horrific I feel choked. But it passes and I say, “And how will anyone find out? I’m not going to tell a soul. Are you?”
“No.” His eyes are wide with torment.
I can tell Dan is as desperate to open one of these little teabags as I am.
“What about Maura? What if she tells Dr. Davenport?”
I snort. “You know as well as I do the type of man Christy Davenport is. It would quite frankly be dangerous for Maura to share this information with her husband.”
Dan’s shoulders round and I can sense him relax a fraction.
“And this woman, the one who works in Switzers.”
“Geraldine. Her brother is the one who organized it all. He’s able to get all sorts shipped in from America or England. Don’t ask me how. Maybe it comes in with the beer.”
“Beer?”
“He’s a barman.”
“Oh, Bernie, tell me you didn’t go to a bar. What if someone saw you? What would they think?”
I exhale and pull a chair out from the table to sit down. I wonder if we will spend our whole lives worried what people think.
“No one saw me. No one will ever find out. Now, are you going to try this or not?”
Dan won’t look me in the eye.
“Because I’m telling you, I can’t live like this. Some women might be happy never being touched but I’m not one of them. I lie in bed at night and stare at that damn ceiling and it’s all I can do not to fall apart. I’m lonely, Dan. I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” he says.
I look at him, but still there is no eye contact in return. He steps in front of me and crouches. Finally, he looks at me.
“Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? How hard it is to be around you and not be able to hold you, to make love with you? Christ Bernie, I’m losing my mind, I tell you.”
“Then try. Try this with me. If you don’t like it—”
“I’m not concerned I won’t like it. God, Bernie, I know I will. Of course I will. I’m worried about what will happen if it doesn’t work.”
“It will work.”
“Oh, Bernie.”
I lean forward, and for the first time in longer than my heart can bear I feel his lips on mine. I taste the salty tears that trickle down his cheeks.
“I love you,” he whispers in rushed breaths between kisses.
“I love you too.”
Dan pulls away and I ache for him instantly. He reaches his hand out, and I take it and let him pull me to my feet. Then he picks up a teabag from the table.