2.
I kept my promise, and didn't go out for a drink until noon. I took a bath, got my dress clothes out of mothballs, and polished off what was left in the decanter, then applied myself to a leisurely gin and tonic--or several--at the local establishment. By just after two, I was pleasantly awash in general good feeling. Now would be the ideal time, I reasoned, to put a little scare into Evie. She'd earned it, partly by ignoring me so much lately, but predominantly by being my sister and an abominable little pest to boot.
I snuck into the museum through the delivery entrance, bypassing the sleeping guard, and made my way to where I knew Evie would be. The layout of the museum library had changed somewhat since I'd been there last. This was, of course, due to the fact that my fumblethumbs of a sister had somehow managed to topple everything standing. It now all had to be completely re-organized, a job that would probably occupy her for the next fifty years or so.
I could hear her over in the corner, near the card catalogue, chattering to herself as usual. The girl never stopped talking, even when there was no one to listen. When she was a child, she used to assemble all her dolls for marathon tea parties. She held court for hours, the most gregarious hostess since Marie-Antoinette. When that wasn't enough, she'd trail around after me, blabbering on about heaven only knew what. I certainly never stopped to inquire; it wasn't until she got older that I started to find her even remotely interesting. Still, the fact remains that her constant prattle was the background noise of my formative years. I'd know it anywhere.
Following the low murmur of her voice, I crept along, pausing here and there to shuffle a book, scrape my foot along the floor, or make some other suitably eerie noise. I suppose I was a bit of a prat, sneaking up on her to scare her after all she'd been through. But I'm a big brother, after all; it's what we do.
Just as I was about to jump out from behind the shelf, though, I very nearly got the shock of my life when a rumbling baritone issued from the other side. Well. Apparently Evie wasn't simply chattering to the stacks after all.
When my sister began to speak again, I caught only the end of the sentence--but I wasn't particularly keen on hearing the beginning anyhow, since it sounded rather sick-making.
"....so glad you came, darling."
Bloody O'Connell.
"But I really ought to be working," she continued. "I've simply got to finish this, and I lost enough time getting Jonathan out of jail."
"I bet it wasn't the first time."
"No." Why, the little traitor! It was only the second time I'd ever had her come and fetch me. In Egypt, anyhow. "Thank you for your help."
"Don't mention it."
For once, I agreed with O'Connell, and wished she'd let the matter drop. There was an interval of silence, punctuated by the rustle of clothing, and I decided the best thing for it was for me to make a leisurely exit while they were occupied. I was in the very act of slipping sneakily away, when I heard my own name being mentioned. Well, eavesdropping in the spirit of self-interest is a horse of a different colour!
"So did you tell Jonathan about the, uh..." Now why, I ask you, would my intelligent and oh-so-literate sister want to disport herself with a man who had trouble completing a simple sentence? He wasn't even rich--no richer than either of us, at any rate.
"Not yet," Evie replied. "I was going to talk to him tonight. I decided that he ought to take me dancing." Why, the little minx.
"Hey, he's braver than I thought he--ouch!"
Good for her, I thought, hoping she'd kicked him. Or pinched him--Evie's a great one for pinching, especially with those sharp little nails of hers.
"Serves you right," she informed him. "And I'll do it again if you aren't nicer to me."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeeeah," she replied, imitating his American drawl.
Another interval followed, briefer than the first--fortunately for all concerned. Well, all right, perhaps just fortunately for me.
"You think he'll be mad?" Rick asked. My ears perked up at this. What could they have done that I might have cause to be angry about? I wondered if she'd been letting O'Connell drive my car. I'd specifically forbidden it after that whole nasty business with the zombie slave chappies--the man had a lead foot to rival my sister's. Only he used it for driving instead of dancing.
"I think he might be disappointed that I hadn't told him sooner, but I don't think he'll be cross," Evie was saying.
Well, that was a relief, at least.
"At least, I hope not."
Oh, bloody hell, what had she done now?
She laughed suddenly. "Oh, listen to me, getting worked up over nothing!" she said. "Jonathan isn't going to disown me just because I did something impulsive. He'll just have to accept that I'm a grown woman now, and have the right to make my own decisions without asking his approval first."
"You could always bribe him," O'Connell suggested. Well, now, this was getting interesting.
"With what?" inquired Evie, sounding puzzled.
"Promise him you'll name the baby after him."
Baby?
"Even if it's a girl," he added, snickering.
Baby?!
"Rick, you're horrible!" I heard her giving him a good sound smack with a heavy book--as well he deserved, talking like that to my sister! The next words out of her mouth, however, compounded my shock. "Besides, I've already picked out the names."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. Amelia for a girl, Alexander for a boy."
"Don't I get a say in this?"
"Look, don't let's get off-track. The sooner I tell Jonathan, the better I'll feel about the whole thing," Evie told him. "Oh, Rick, it's such a mess--I'm being driven to distraction!"
She wasn't the only one, either!
"What was that noise?" O'Connell demanded. The noise in question was actually my head coming into rather painful contact with the shelf behind me. I hoped he wouldn't decide to investigate; I very much doubted I'd be able to make an effectual escape before I was spotted, as I'd temporarily lost control of my limbs and joints at the first mention of the word baby.
"I'm sure it wasn't anything. We've got rather a bad rat problem back here."
"They don't bother you?"
"Oh, not much," she said airily. And butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, either, I supposed. Teasingly, she added, "Don't worry, Rick, I'll protect you. Just hang on to me as tightly as you can, darling."
Eugh. If I listened to this insipid nonsense too much longer I'd get a cavity.
"Maybe I should be there tonight," O'Connell suggested.
"I think it would be better if you weren't. He might blame you."
Too right I would blame him! I considered climbing up to the top shelf and dropping a particularly heavy biography of Champollion on the blighter's head. However, wonky limbs entirely aside, I didn't want to risk harming the expectant mother.
"Well, I did kinda talk you into it."
"Don't be silly... I wanted you to talk me into it. If you hadn't suggested it, I just might have."
Good heavens. O'Connell had taken advantage of my sister, got her into trouble, showed no signs of wanting to do the honourable thing--and he had her thinking it was entirely her idea!
"It's been hard, though--keeping it from Jonathan, I mean. I suppose... I suppose I thought he would somehow be able to tell," she reflected. "The moment he saw me. I was certain he'd look right at me and just... know."
"Well, you do have this whole radiant glowy thing going on..."
Good lord.
"You've already got me where you wanted me, Mister O'Connell," she said playfully. "There's no need for sweet words at this stage of the game."
"Good point."
Yes, my sentiments exactly.
She swatted him with the book again. "Now, just you go back out the way you came in, before we get caught canoodling in the back of the stacks like a couple of naughty schoolchildren."
"Canoodling?" O'Connell echoed dubiously.
"If you're hoping for a demonstration, you're out of luck. I have work to do." Then, of course, she gave him the demonstration.
"I'll see you tonight?" he inquired. "After you talk to Jonathan?"
"Of course."
"And you'll stay the whole night this time?"
"Of course," she repeated, and I could hear the smile in her voice. Well, if nothing else... at least the bastard made her smile. (Meaning O'Connell, of course, not the, er, you know.)
"Amelia for a girl..." mused O'Connell.
"And Alexander for a boy," finished my sister triumphantly. "Now, go on--get out of here!"
I waited until long after he'd left before sneaking out of the library via the same entrance I'd crept into. I walked along the street, not quite certain where I was headed--not certain of anything at all, really. My head was reeling, and it wasn't the gin and tonics. My sister was going to have a child! An illegitimate, half-American child! And she didn't seem the slightest bit concerned about the whole business! I couldn't understand it. Evie had always been my own personal moral thermometer: I could easily gauge the dastardliness of whatever I happened to be doing, by picturing what my sister's reaction would be. It was a system that had worked surprisingly well before bloody O'Connell showed up and started mucking about with our simple little lives. I felt as though I didn't even know Evie anymore.
It occurred to me then that this might be my fault. Oh, I wasn't willing to overlook that blighter O'Connell's role in all this, believe you me; but I couldn't help thinking that, perhaps, if I'd been a better role model for my sister... if she hadn't constantly had to dirty her hands by contact with the kind of shady life I led... it might not have come to this. My own attitudes towards women probably hadn't helped matters, either. I'd never left a girl in the family way, that I knew of, but that certainly didn't make me a saint. I'd never tried to hide my habits from Evie; more often than not, I delighted in saying things I knew would rock her moral boat a bit. But that didn't mean I wanted to see her go overboard...
I came to a sudden, unpleasant realization: every girl I'd thrown over for another--or bought drinks for to increase her suggestibility--or lied to in order to get her into bed--or gone to bed with when I didn't care a rap for her--was, in all likelihood, someone's sister.
Well, I thought, damn it all, someone ought to be honourable in this whole business. The fact that it was going to be me just proved what a very sorry state of affairs this was.
I turned around and began walking in the other direction, my footsteps no longer aimless. I would see if O'Connell was at home; if he was, then he and I were going to have a little chat.