Adam's Daughter Page 6

  Adam drove on, gripping the steering wheel. He hadn’t realized until then that he had been harboring a secret dream -—divorcing Lilith. Now, with stunning clarity he recognized it for the fantasy it was. As much as he often regretted his marriage he knew divorce was not workable. Lilith would never consent to it. Besides, in some ways, his marriage was liberating. It provided a convenient framework for his life, freeing him to funnel his passion into his work. Divorce was just not feasible, especially now, in light of Bickford’s bequest.

  At the country club, Adam let himself be pulled into the socializing to take his mind off his dispirited thoughts. The presence of Ian, now lying awake but quiet in the basket, lent him a special cachet with the other men. Bringing a son into the Olympic Club was an exceptional event.

  When Bickford had proposed two years ago that Adam join the exclusive men’s club, Adam had declined. He had always thought such clubs were for old men, those somber three-piece-suited souls he saw trudging up the steps of the Pacific Union Club on Nob Hill. But after he joined he quickly grew to love the club’s masculine elegance. The mahogany-paneled rooms filled with hunting prints and the chandeliered dining room. The dark bar where deals were quietly closed over surreptitious scotch. He especially liked the swimming pool, where he would do laps to work out the day’s tensions, beneath a beautiful stained-glass dome.

  The club was the only thing that forced him to occasionally emerge from the cocoon into which he had been retreating lately.

  No, not the only thing. Now there was his son.

  Adam took the baby out of the basket, holding him tenderly for the other men to admire.

  “A fine boy, Adam,” someone said. “A future Olympian, of course.”

  Adam smiled. “That’s why he’s here today.”

  The thirty-seventh annual Hike ’n’ Dip, at the club’s oceanside annex, was about to begin. It was a sunny unseasonably warm day, and everyone was standing outside wearing bathing suits, laughing and kidding. A dog barked and jumped with excitement. The tradition called for a sprint across the dunes to the ocean and a plunge into the water to wash away the old year and begin the new.

  The charge began and the cheering rose. Adam cupped Ian’s dark head and held the baby’s naked body tight against his chest, letting the other men race past. The baby was awake but quiet. Adam walked to the ocean and waded in up to his waist.

  All around him, the water churned with howling Olympians.

  “To the future, my son,” Adam said.

  The baby looked up at him, dark eyes wide with trust. Adam carefully dipped the baby’s feet into the water.

  Ian Thomas Bryant began to scream.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Adam read the ledger with a small smile of satisfaction. The Times’ advertising revenue figures showed a substantial increase for the first four months of 1937. After all the lean years, things were on the upswing.

  He set the ledger aside and picked up a proof of that afternoon’s front page. The headline was bold and black.

  WESTERN WORLD JAMS CITY

  TO CELEBRATE AMAZING SPAN

  It was one of the biggest news events of the year —- the opening of the Golden Gate Bridge. Adam had been up for almost two days straight, personally supervising the coverage. He reread the lead story: “A necklace of unsurpassed beauty will be placed about the lovely throat of San Francisco today. It is the Golden Gate Bridge. It is the bridge that sings. It is given to the people who willed it to exist; given to them after years of struggle, years of doubt, years of labor.”

  But the bridge was more than that, Adam thought. It was a symbol of a hopeful new era, coming after seven years of crushing Depression. A symbol of a grand dream realized.

  That was what he found so compelling about the bridge —- its metaphoric connection to his own life. Though many people’s lives and dreams were still as barren as the country’s dusty heartland, his own life was flourishing. He had survived, even prospered, during the last seven and a half years.

  Four years ago, after the repeal of Prohibition, Adam had sold nearly all of his Napa Valley land for a sizable profit. In a rare sentimental gesture he had kept one large vineyard, which he had bought from a German immigrant winemaker who had been wiped out during Prohibition. Adam allowed the man and his wife to live for nothing in the house they had built on the property.

  Adam leaned back in his chair, running his hand wearily over his eyes. He thought suddenly of Bick. He had died three years ago, leaving Adam the promised fifty-one percent majority interest. Bickford’s will had come as a complete surprise to Lilith and she felt betrayed by her father. She took out her bitterness on Adam, questioning every expenditure he made for the Times. The will, which Bickford had hoped would unite Lilith and Adam forever in mutual service of the Times, had left instead a legacy of rancor.

  Adam thought back to two years ago, when he had bought a struggling newspaper in Sacramento, using some of the profits from his Napa land. It was the first step in his dream to acquire a chain of newspapers and he was proud that he had done it with money he himself had made.

  When Adam told Lilith about the Sacramento paper she angrily accused him of diverting profits from the Times to further his own fortune. After that, Adam never again tried to talk to Lilith about his dream.

  Soon after, he sent her to Paris for a four-month vacation. During her absence, he spent most of his time in Sacramento, leaving Ian in his governess’s care. Lilith came home with a new spring wardrobe and an uneasy calm settled in, as if both she and Adam, too weary to continue the war, had called a truce.

  Lilith left Adam alone to his work. His side of the bargain was an occasional public appearance to maintain Lilith’s social pride. Only his closest editors knew that, more often than not, Adam spent the night on the sofa in his office instead of going home.

  Adam glanced over at the sofa and then down at his pants, which were creased from his fitful nap. He rubbed his palm across his stubbly jaw and glanced at his watch. No time to go home; he’d have to clean up here. He started for the adjoining bathroom, and someone rapped on the door.

  One of Adam’s editors poked his head in. “We’re all through with the tour,” he said. He ushered in a dark-haired boy. “Thought I’d better bring him back here.”

  “Thanks, Hank,” Adam said. “I appreciate your taking the time to watch him while I finished up.”

  “Any time, boss.”

  The man left, closing the door behind him. Ian stood waiting, staring up at Adam. Lilith had dropped him off earlier, and Adam had intended to show the boy around the newspaper. But pressing last-minute business had forced Adam to enlist the help of his editor. Adam looked at the boy, feeling a bit guilty.

  At seven and a half, Ian was tall for his age. His face, a combination of Lilith’s dark coloring and Adam’s handsome features, was almost too beautiful for a boy. Adam had always worried that Lilith’s preoccupation with the boy’s clothes made him effeminate-looking.

  But today Ian looked different. He wore a smart gray suit, shiny shoes and a striped tie. Ian looked suddenly older. In fact, except for his knee-length pants, Ian looked unnervingly like a miniature adult. And any urge Adam had to smile was vanquished by Ian’s dark eyes staring up at him gravely.

  “Sit down, Ian,” Adam said, motioning toward the sofa. Ian took a seat. Adam began to straighten his desk.

  “So,” he said, smiling. “How’d the tour go? Did Hank show you the presses?”

  “Yes,” Ian said, his gaze wandering over the office.

  “Pretty impressive, huh?”

  “I guess so,” Ian said with a shrug. “Awful dirty.” His eyes finally returned to Adam. “Is this your office?”

  “Yes. It used to belong to your grandfather. You were in here once before, you know. Your mother brought you in to see your grandfather when you were a baby.”

  “I don’t remember,” Ian said.

  “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

  There was
a silence. Ian was staring at Adam, as if waiting for something. Adam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that tour myself, son,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get my work done so we could go to the bridge opening this morning.”

  “That’s okay.” A flicker of disappointment crossed the boy’s face, which he quickly hid by seeming to study his shining shoes. He began to kick his feet out rhythmically, and the miniature man image evaporated.

  “I have to get cleaned up,” Adam said. “Why don’t you come in and keep me company.” Ian climbed off the sofa and followed him into the adjoining bathroom. Adam stripped to his undershirt, and began to wash his face and hands at the marble sink. Ian stood nearby, watching the ink-tinged water from Adam’s hands spiral down the drain. When Adam began to shave Ian’s dark eyes followed every move intently.

  “Does that hurt?” he asked softly.

  “Only if I slip and cut myself,” Adam said, flicking the cream into the sink. He turned to smile at Ian but the boy regarded him solemnly. Finally, Ian went to a window and stared out, his fingers drumming restlessly on the glass.

  As he finished shaving, Adam watched Ian’s reflection in the mirror. He knew Ian was smart yet he seemed so easily distracted. And he had a self-possession and coolness that was disarming in one so young. What distressed Adam the most, however, was that the coolness extended to him. He was always intending to spend more time with the boy but something always seemed to come up at work.

  Adam dried his face with a towel and went to the closet, pulling out a fresh white shirt and suit. He returned to the mirror to do his tie, watching Ian from the corner of his eye as the boy wandered back to the outer office.

  He thought, not for the first time, how different it might have been if Ian had a brother. Knowing the loneliness that came from being an orphan, Adam had wanted a large family and expected that Lilith would comply. But after Ian’s birth, she announced that she wanted no more children.

  “I won’t ruin my figure just so you can prove your virility,” she told Adam. “Besides, large families are vulgar.”

  Adam swallowed his disappointment and the issue of children became just another brick in their wall.

  Adam came out of the bathroom and smiled at Ian. “So, what do you think of the place where your father works?”

  Ian was standing at Adam’s desk, rearranging the pens and pencils in the holder. “It’s okay, I guess,” he said.

  “Think you’d like to work here someday?”

  Ian looked up at him. “Sure. As long as I don’t have to be down with those dirty presses.” He smiled slightly and his face was transformed. “I’d like to work up here in this office. With you, Father.”

  Adam came over and ruffled Ian’s hair. It was an awkward gesture and Ian pulled back slightly. At that moment, the door opened and Lilith came in.

  “Lilith,” Adam said, surprised. “I thought you were going to wait at home for me to pick you up.”

  She was dressed in a suit by Coco Chanel, a boyish design that she couldn’t carry off without looking hard. “Frankly, I didn’t trust you to remember,” she said. “I don’t want to be late for the ceremonies. Are you ready to leave?”

  Adam began to gather some papers off his desk and put them in his briefcase. “In a few minutes. I have some —-”

  “Adam, I told you I don’t want to be late.”

  “I know, Lilith, I know.”

  “You promised when you left last night you wouldn’t let work get in the way. You said —-”

  “Dammit, Lilith!” He threw a newspaper on the desk. “I’m up to my ass with this union contract! It’s important -—”

  “It’s always important! Well, I’m important, too, Adam! You keep forgetting that!”

  They glared at each other. Adam glanced down at Ian, whose dark eyes were fiercely bright, as if he were fighting back tears. Adam smiled at Ian in an effort to ease the tension. “You ready to go see the new bridge, sport?”

  Ian was determined not to cry. “Can we take a trolley?” he asked.

  Adam glanced at Lilith. “Your mother doesn’t like you riding on trolleys. The car will get us there quicker.”

  The new Golden Gate Bridge was scheduled to open for vehicles tomorrow but today it belonged to pedestrians only. It had opened at six that morning, and tens of thousands of people had already made the two-mile round-trip walk.

  The streets were filled with revelers and out-of-state license plates seemed to outnumber the familiar black-and-gold ones. At cafes and bars along Market and Powell, lines snaked out into the streets.

  They rode across town in silence, the car making slow progress in the crowded streets. Ian pressed his face against the car window, his eyes wide. Adam watched him in the rearview mirror. He felt guilty that Ian had witnessed another fight between him and Lilith.

  They stopped for a traffic light. A raucous crowd streamed past but there was one man trailing alone. He was dressed in rags, his cheeks sunken. He looked up and for a second his eyes met Adam’s.

  As Adam stared back he had the sickening feeling he was looking into his own empty soul.

  The light changed and he drove on.

  He felt almost nothing these days. Except for work, there was no passion in anything he did. He and Lilith had separate bedrooms now, and Adam had begun to suspect that Lilith had taken a lover. It was an accepted practice among her crowd, as long as it was discreet.

  His own sexual needs were met at Sally Stanford’s bordello. There was no passion in what he did, just the quick-burn pleasure of physical release. He never asked for the same woman twice. Sally, thinking he simply craved variety, kept him accommodated with an eclectic stream of women. Adam refused her choice only once, when she sent to his room a tall, cream-skinned redhead.

  If Lilith knew about the prostitutes she never said a word. Many of her friends’ husbands were on Sally’s client list, so Lilith knew the proper code of conduct. I don’t care what you do in private, was the unspoken rule, but in public, you are my husband.

  A facade of fidelity and happiness. It was a small price to pay. So he gave in to Lilith’s demands that he appear with her in public and endured the costume balls and charity events.

  But then, five years ago, something happened to rekindle a small spark inside him. It was the opening of the new opera house. Adam had dutifully taken his seat next to Lilith in the grand new house, dreading the dreary evening. Lilith complained bitterly that they had been issued seats in a marginal orchestra section, and peered covetously up at the box seats.

  Then, the performance of Tosca began and Adam, who had never heard live music before, sat transfixed. He heard something in Puccini’s music that spoke to his soul as nothing ever had.

  A week later he surprised Lilith by purchasing a lifetime box subscription. He began collecting recordings and when Sally Stanford’s women failed, the music was able to dull the ache of his emptiness.

  Now, as he drove to the bridge, Adam began to hum a segment of Cavaradossi’s “E luceum le stelle” from Tosca.

  The traffic suddenly slowed to a crawl. And then as they approached the Presidio, it choked to a stop. Thousands of people had abandoned cars and trolleys and were walking to the bridge.

  “We’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” Adam said, pulling the car to the curb.

  “I can’t walk in these shoes,” Lilith said.

  “I told you to dress sensibly.”

  “We have seats in the reviewing stand. I couldn’t go looking like some housewife.”

  Adam was already out the door with Ian. “Lilith, you can stay here if you want. We’re walking.” Pouting, Lilith joined them, tottering along in her new platform shoes.

  Suddenly Adam stopped, transfixed by the scene before him. Hundreds of thousands of people were milling on the bridge, a long crescent that curved out across the water. And there above them all, two towering orange spans rose up through the wispy morning fog, framed against the green hills of Ma
rin.

  “Look, Ian,” Adam said.

  “It’s really big,” Ian said.

  Lilith caught up to them. Adam turned to her, smiling. “God, Lilith, have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

  “It’s lovely,” she said flatly. She clutched her turbaned head against the breeze. “I can’t stand all these people. Let’s go to our seats.”

  The parade was five miles long, snaking through the city and ending at the viewing stand at Crissy Field. In the viewing stand, Ian sat on Adam’s shoulders, watching the bagpipers, cowboys, mounted police, and motorcyclists. A stagecoach went by, followed by people dressed as cavemen, decks of cards, pencils, and paint tubes. A silent group in white passed by, all members of Blindcraft, paying homage to the new marvel they could not see. Overhead, a squadron of silver-winged airplanes swooped over the bridge’s towers. Then a slight figure stepped out of a black limousine and the crowd roared. It was Joseph Strauss, engineer of the bridge that everyone said couldn’t be built.

  Lilith tugged on Adam’s arm. “I see Enid,” she shouted over the din. “I’m going over to talk to her. Do you think you can keep an eye on Ian?” Adam nodded and watched her wend her way up the grandstand.

  Finally, the last of the parade divisions went by and it was over. The police nudged people back from the parade line and the crowd began to disperse.

  “Did you enjoy it?” Adam asked Ian.

  “I liked the motorcycles.” The boy’s face was more animated than usual. “Can we go walk across?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Adam had to get back to work but he saw a light in the boy’s eyes. “I guess we can,” Adam said with a smile. “Let’s go find your mother.”

  They walked along, Adam scanning the grandstand for Lilith. Then suddenly he froze.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered.

  She was standing in the front row at the far end of the grandstand. She was wearing a conservative black dress, holding her hat, and her hair was like a blazing red beacon in the sunshine.