Lucy Crown by Irwin Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

times, Lucy,” Oliver said, feeling the words ringing hollow and grandiose, but not knowing how else to phrase what he wanted to say. “Changeable, dangerous times. You’ve got to be a giant to face them.”
    “And you want to make a giant out of poor little Tony.” Lucy’s voice was sardonic.
    “Yes,” Oliver said defensively. “And don’t call him poor little Tony. He’s only seven or eight years away from being a man.”
    “A man is one thing,” Lucy said. “A giant is another.”
    “Not any more,” Oliver said. “You’ve got to be a giant first these days. Then, after that, maybe you can manage to be a man.”
    “Poor little Tony,” Lucy said. “And a snippy little college junior can make a giant out of a son, but a mother can’t.”
    “I didn’t say that,” said Oliver. He felt himself getting angry and controlled himself consciously, because he didn’t want to leave on the bitter end of an argument. He made himself speak calmly. “First of all, Bunner isn’t a snippy little college boy. He’s intelligent and poised and humorous …”
    “And I, of course,” Lucy said, “am dull and shy and sad.” She walked away from him, toward the house.
    “Now, Lucy.” Oliver followed her. “I didn’t say that, either.”
    Lucy stopped and turned and faced him, angrily. “You don’t have to,” she said. “For months, I manage to forget it. Then you say something …or I see another woman my age who has managed to escape …”
    “For God’s sake, Lucy,” Oliver said, his irritation overcoming his resolution to avoid a quarrel, “don’t go into that song and dance.”
    “Please, Oliver.” She lapsed suddenly into pleading. “Leave Tony alone with me this summer. It’s only for six more weeks. I’ve given in on the school—you can give in on this. He’ll be away so long, surrounded by all those little ruffians … I can’t bear to let him out of my sight yet. After what we’ve gone through with him. Even now, even when I know all he’s doing is walking up to the hotel and riding to the gate with you—it’s all I can do to keep myself from running down to make sure he’s all right.”
    “That’s exactly what I was talking about, Lucy,” Oliver said.
    Lucy stared at him, her eyes suddenly cold. She put the drink down on the grass with a kind of awkward curtsey Then she stood up and made a mocking little inclination of her head. “I bend the neck,” she said, “because you’re always right. As usual.”
    With a sharp movement of his hand, Oliver took her chin and jerked her head up. Lucy didn’t try to pull away. She stood there, smiling crookedly, staring at him. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Lucy,” Oliver said. “I mean it.”
    Then she wrenched her head away and turned and went into the house. The screen door slammed lightly behind her. Oliver looked after her for a moment, then drained his drink and picked up his bags and went to the side of the house, where the car was parked under a tree. He put the bags into the car, hesitated a moment, then said, under his breath, “The hell with it.” He got into the car and started the motor. He was backing out when Lucy came out of the house and over to the car. He cut the engine and waited.
    “I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice, standing against the car, her hand on the door.
    Oliver took her hand and patted it. “Let’s forget it,” he said gently.
    Lucy leaned over and kissed his cheek. She touched his tie with a flutter of her hand. “Buy yourself some new ties,” she said. “All your ties look as though you got them for Christmas, 1929.” She looked at him, smiling uncertainly, pleading. “And don’t be angry with me.”
    “Of course not,” Oliver said, relieved that the afternoon and the departure were healed. Or almost healed. Or at least healed on the surface.
    “Call me up during the week,” Lucy said. “And use the forbidden word.”
    “I will.” Oliver leaned over and kissed her. Then