The innkeeper steps forward and invites everyone to proceed to the Lavender Room for drinks and canapés while we pose for pictures. “And our wedding couple will join you all in just a few moments.”
At the back of the room, I watch Andrew file out with the others. “Want me to go get him?” Marissa asks. I tell her no. He probably needs a drink more than he needs to have his picture taken. The photographer Viveca has imported from New York arranges us the way he wants us and begins to snap away. After he’s finished, Viveca gives him further instructions about how she’d like him to photograph the reception.
When we rejoin the gathering for cocktails, there’s another round of applause. Viveca and I smile, receive hugs and kisses, best wishes. A waitress appears with champagne in the special flutes Viveca’s bought at Tiffany’s. The telltale grogginess I’ve felt from that Xanax last night has finally worn off, so I take a sip. It’s dry and delicious. Viveca certainly knows her wine.
Minnie approaches shyly, with Africa clinging to her leg. Hector’s behind them. “I ain’t ever been to a wedding this fancy before,” Minnie tells us. “Them flowers are so pretty.” It makes me wish I’d thought to order her a corsage. “Here,” I say, handing her my bouquet. “These are for you.” When she tries to refuse, I tell her I insist. She takes it in one hand and covers her toothless grin with the other. Then she turns to Africa. “Well? What do you say to Miz Anna and Miz Viveca?”
“ ’Gratulations,” he says. I bend down and, taking him in my arms, plant a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I say. He wipes off the kiss as soon as I release him. Hector comes forward and says something to Viveca and me in Spanish—a blessing, I think it is. When he leans in to give Viveca a kiss, she turns her head so far to the side that his lips land on her ear. I reach out and take his rough hands in mine. He kisses me on the cheek.
And now here come Donald and Mimsy. We hug. They hug the girls. I introduce them to Viveca, Hector, and Minnie. “Pietro!” Viveca calls, signaling the photographer. He hurries over and takes a group shot.
“Hey, Africa, did you by any chance have chocolate chip pancakes this morning for breakfast?” Marissa asks.
The boy’s eyes widen. “How you know that?” he asks.
She tells him she has magical powers. That she knows all and sees all.
“Pfft,” Africa says. “You ain’t got no magic powers. You just a lady.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come I know that you like soda? And that you would love one right now? Am I right?” He nods, a little less convinced that Marissa is just some mere mortal. “Better come with me then,” she says. When Africa looks up at his mother, she nods permission. Marissa takes his hand and leads him toward the bar.
“If that niece of mine is all-knowing, how come she didn’t realize I could use a scotch?” Donald quips. “Ladies?” Mimsy says she’d like a Manhattan and Ariane requests a ginger ale. Ari’s starting to show, but that loose dress she’s wearing conceals her bump. Well, I guess it’s up to her to tell her aunt and uncle her news. “Minnie? Something to drink?” Don asks. She shakes her head, but when he asks her if she’s sure, she asks how much they cost.
“They’re free,” I whisper. “It’s open bar.”
“Oh, okay then. Gin and ginger.”
My brother winces a little, but I don’t think Minnie’s caught it. “Sure thing,” he says. “Minnie, maybe you’d better give me a hand, huh? If I try to carry four glasses, they’re going to need a mop.”
Minnie nods. Looks hesitantly at the bouquet I’ve given her. When Ari suggests she put it down on the side table, she does. “Don’t let nobody take it,” she says, and Ari promises she’ll watch it like a hawk. As she and Donald head off toward the bar, Ariane asks Mimsy if Donald has started dyeing his hair.
“Oh yes,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I talked him out of buying the sports car but not the Grecian Formula.”
The three of us share a mischievous giggle. I look to see if Viveca’s amused, too, but she’s busy surveying the crowd. “Would you ladies excuse me?” she says. “I think I’d better work the room a little. There are a few people I really should acknowledge. Do you mind, darling?” I tell her no. Ask her if she needs me to go with her. “No, no. You stay here and enjoy your family. We can do a little table-hopping later during the luncheon.” And with that, she starts across the room.
I watch as she stops to embrace Andrew who’s coming toward us. He returns her hug, stiff as a board. Ariane’s watching, too. “How do you think he’s doing?” I ask. Fine, she says, but she doesn’t get why he changed when he went back to the house. I shrug. Suggest that maybe it makes him feel a little more secure. Viveca moves on and that man with the eye patch approaches Andrew, holding two beers. He hands him one and they clink their bottles. Either Andrew’s made a new friend or else he can’t shake this guy.
“Hey there, soldier boy,” I hear my brother say as he approaches Andrew, his booming voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. Andrew introduces his uncle to his new friend, and my brother says, “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch! Good god, how long has it been?” He shakes the man’s hand and pats him on the shoulder. They know each other? From business, must be. Donald does the tax returns for a lot of well-heeled businessmen. But still, it’s a coincidence. When I ask Mimsy if she knows him, she says no but that she only helps out at the office part-time.
Now here comes Andrew. He greets his aunt, gives her a kiss. Then he turns to me. “Hey, Mom,” he says, holding out his arms. I’m so grateful for his embrace that I don’t want to let him go. But when I do, he says something about a surprise. That man who’s been shadowing him steps forward.
“Hello, Annie,” he says. Bad teeth, salt and pepper stubble. I smile. Offer him a generic thank-you-for-coming. You’d think if he can afford to buy art from Viveca, he could get himself a decent haircut. “Long time no see, huh?”
What? . . . Who?
“What’s the matter? Don’t you recognize your long-lost cousin?”
Is it . . . ? No! Not here. Not today. Andrew’s saying something, but I can’t . . . Don’t react, Annie! Don’t lose it in front of all these people.
“Kiss for the bride?” When he puts his hand on my shoulder and leans in, puckering, my head jerks back and hits the wall behind me. But it’s no use. His lips land on mine, dirtying my kiss from Viveca. I look from Andrew’s bewildered face to Ariane’s. “Mama?”
“It’s Kent,” Andrew says. “When I went back to the house for . . .” His lips are still moving, but what he’s saying is blocked out by a roaring in my ears. The floodwater rushing beneath us. . . . Then I’m back here at Bella Linda but everything has turned gray: Ariane’s bouquet, the chattering wedding guests. My mind has gone blank.
He’s talking to Mimsy. “And then I was in sales for a while. Insurance. Got so many Salesman of the Month certificates that I started running out of wall space, heh heh.”
I’m light-headed. Frantic. I can’t stay here, but I can’t leave. I have to protect my kids from him. I step forward, putting myself between him and Ariane. “Are you all right, Mama?” she asks me. “You look so pale.”
“What? Yes, I’m . . . It’s just so hot in here. Why is it so hot?”
“Gee, I was just thinking they should turn the air-conditioning down a little. I’m freezing.”
“Oh. You are?” Where’s Viveca? Why is everything so gray?
“Yeah, Donny and I shared a room when I went to live with them. But we were like night and day, us two. . . . The honor roll type. Mr. Popular. But I hated school. I was just barely scraping by.”
“Do you want to get some air?”
“Some air? Yes, okay. That’s a good idea.”
“Want me to go with you?”
No, I can’t risk that. I’m just barely holding it in. I can’t break down in front of my daughter. Or my son. But I have to get them away from him. What if he tells them? Is that why he’s come? To let out the secrets I’ve been so car
eful to—“Maybe . . . maybe you and Andrew can get me some water. I think if I had a little water.”
She laughs, says she thinks she can handle getting a glass of water by herself. “Just go out on the veranda and I’ll bring it out to you.”
“Isn’t that right, Annie?” he says. I can’t look at him, so I look at Mimsy. “I was just telling her what a peach your mother was. Aunt Sunny, man. After they made her, they broke the mold.” His voice: it’s the only thing about him that’s the same. “A crying shame what happened to her. And little Gracie, too.”
Don’t look at me! Don’t say her name! Oh god, I’m going to heave. The room is spinning. I cover my mouth. Swallow back the vomit in my throat. Then I’m bumping past the guests, past a waitress holding a tray of—“Excuse me, please! Excuse me!” When I reach the pocket door that closes off the room, I claw at the handle. Throw it open with a bang and rush through the lobby, heading not toward the front door but toward the stairs. Is he following me? Don’t look back! Keep going! Get away from him! . . . When I reach the second-floor landing, I run down the hall to Viveca’s suite. The door is open. A maid is stripping the bed. “Go!” I shout.
“Yes, ma’am. I just need to—”
“Now!”
I lock the door behind her. Rush into the bathroom and lock that door, too. Lean against it. Alone now, safe, I release my sobs. Take in gulps of air. Then I stagger over to the toilet and vomit into the bowl.
I’m on the floor, whimpering, rocking. I’m six again, lying in the dark. I hear the click of my bedroom door. Feel him get into my bed with me. Feel his hands reach under my nightgown, his breath on the back of my neck. Don’t touch me. I won’t tell. I promise. Just don’t touch me.
Someone’s calling my name from far away. I don’t answer. “Miss? Could you help us please?” It’s Viveca’s voice.
“Yes, ma’am. I was finishing up the bed when she . . .”
Then their voices are closer, inside the suite. Coming from the other side of the bathroom door. “Mama?”
“Mom? What’s the matter?” Andrew’s voice.
“Anna, it’s Viveca. Are you all right in there?”
“Is he up here?”
“Who, Mama?” Ari’s voice.
“My . . . my cousin.”
“No, Mama, it’s just us.”
“Darling? We’re concerned. Please unlock the door.”
I reach up behind me. My fingers find the windowsill and I pull myself off the floor. Go over to the door and stare at the knob. “Anna?” I watch my fingers turn the lock, twist the knob.
They’re standing there, my three kids and Viveca. But they blur away and I’m back there again. . . . The roar of the water is in my ears, Gracie’s screaming. She’s cold and wet, and her body keeps stiffening, pushing against me. I can’t see Mama but I can hear her. “I can’t, Chick! I can’t.” Daddy shouts something to Kent and the two of them drop belly-down onto the roof. Kent grabs onto Daddy’s ankles and Daddy’s head and shoulders disappear over the edge. Then more of him. “Pull!” he keeps screaming. “Pull!” I scream, too, at Gracie. “Stop it! Stop squirming!” But she won’t stop. I’m staring so hard at my cousin and my father, Kent’s hands gripped around Daddy’s ankles, that I don’t even notice it at first: that my baby sister has stopped crying, stopped bucking and squirming. When I look down at her, she’s not there. My arms are empty. . . .
And then I’m back again, looking at their worried faces. And I blurt it out. “It wasn’t him. It was me.” They stare at me, confused. “He didn’t drop her like we said. I did. She drowned because . . . because . . . I dropped her.”
“Dropped who, Mama?” Ari says.
“My baby sister. I was holding her and . . . and then she wasn’t in my arms anymore. She was in the water, getting carried away.”
Viveca holds out her arms, and I step toward her. Fall against her and wail. If you ever tell them what we’re doing, then I’ll have to tell on you, Annie. They’ll find out what you did and . . . But he didn’t tell on me. I’ve just told on myself. What’s the matter? Don’t you recognize your long-lost cousin? Kiss for the bride? I’ve heard his voice all my life, but seeing him down there was a hundred times worse. He hadn’t died. He was back again, smiling, leaning in to kiss me again like . . . I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I had to tell.
They lead me out into the suite, onto the bed. Viveca sits on one side of me, Ariane on the other. Marissa’s pulled up a chair. She’s facing me. Andrew’s standing behind her. Everyone’s waiting, looking confused. And so my long-ago memories of that terrible night tumble out: our plunge into the dark water, his pulling me from the back of the car onto that roof, the way she was bucking and screaming in my arms. “I was sopping wet. It was so cold. I think my hands must have gone numb because I didn’t even realize . . . not until . . .”
“What water?” Marissa asks. “Mom, what are you talking about?”
It’s Andrew who answers her. “That flood they were in. The one her mother died in. And her sister.”
“What sister? How did I not know she had—?”
“Shut up,” Andrew says. “Let her talk.”
Viveca takes my hand in hers. “Go on, sweetheart,” she says.
“He said . . . He said, ‘Where’s Gracie?’ And then the roof started caving in under us, and he grabbed my hand and led me across it. Lifted me up into that tree.”
Marissa’s mouth is gaping open. Ariane reaches over and brushes the hair off of my cheek. I take the tissues Andrew offers me and wipe my eyes. They have questions. Ask me for clarifications. “He told me he didn’t want me to get in trouble. That if he said he dropped her . . . I was so scared, and it was all so confusing. I don’t think I even realized . . . I just wanted my mother.”
The kids, Andrew in particular, look like they’re in such pain that I have to keep looking away from them. I look, instead, at my hands, the fingers of one twisting the ring on the other—the ring Viveca slipped onto my finger downstairs before I realized who he was, that he had come to ruin our wedding. The one I finally face is Viveca. “Our beautiful day,” I tell her, sobbing. “I’m so sorry.”
She takes me in her arms and holds me. Rocks me back and forth on the bed. “Does my brother know what’s going on?” I ask. Marissa says he doesn’t—that hardly anyone noticed. That she herself had no idea there was a problem until Ariane came and got her. “Good. Don’t say anything to Donald and Mimsy. I don’t want them to know. . . . Is he still down there?”
“Uncle Donald?” one of them asks.
“No. Him.” I can’t say his name. “I want him to go away.”
They look at each other. Ariane says, “But, Mama, he came especially to see you. We can’t just tell him to leave.”
“I can,” Viveca says. “Don’t worry, Anna. I’ll handle it.”
I nod. “Thank you.” I look from Marissa to Ariane, from Ariane to Andrew. He’s the one who looks the most stricken.
Viveca asks me if I can handle going back down and joining our guests once she gets him to go away. “They’ll be serving the luncheon soon. We can’t just abandon everyone.”
I tell her I don’t think I can do it—that I’m too shaken up. “I just don’t trust myself. I’m sorry. I would if I could but—”
“No, that’s all right. We can work around it. But I don’t want you to be alone up here either.”
She makes a plan. Ariane will stay up here with me, and she, Marissa, and Andrew will go back down and carry on. A stomach flu, they’ll tell people. “It came on her out of nowhere. She’s sick as a dog, poor thing. Well, things happen. What are you going to do?”
I ask the kids if they’re comfortable with that. Both of the girls nod. “Hey, I’m an actor,” Marissa says
“Ari, you go down,” Andrew says. “I’ll stay with her.”
She looks at me, then back at her brother. “Okay.”
Before they head back down, Viveca gets me a glass of water and hands me another Xa
nax. “Here, darling. I think you should take one of these.” I take the capsule, a sip of water. She takes one, too. Takes a deep breath and puts on a smile. “Okay then,” she says. “We’ll see you a little later. You try and relax.”
At the door, Marissa turns back and asks her brother if he needs something from the bar. “Yeah, bourbon. A double.”
“No problem. Be right back.”
After they leave, Andrew apologizes for bringing him here. “It’s just that last night after you and I were talking about him, and you said you’d lost track of him, I thought you’d want to see him, Mom. I didn’t know about . . .”
“Of course you didn’t. How could you?” I ask him to please go over to the window. I need to make sure that Viveca has gotten him to leave.
“Yeah, all right. Sure.” A few minutes later, he says, “Okay, there he goes. He’s walking down the driveway.”
“Good,” I say. “Good riddance.”
He looks from the window to me. “You know, Mom, I know his showing up brought all those bad memories back. I get that. But when you think about it, he was only trying to protect you when he said he dropped her.”
“Protect me? Ha!”
“I’m not saying he should have, necessarily, but think about it. There would have been all kinds of questions. And I mean, hey, you’d just lost your mom. He was probably just trying to spare you the third degree on top of—”
“Bullshit! He made up that story so that—”
Stop it, Annie! Shut your mouth!
He comes over, sits down on the bed. “So that what?”
I look away from him. “Nothing.”
“No, what were you going to—?”