"What's that mean?"
"You have to grow up faster because of what's happened to your body and now this."
"You have to grow up faster, too," I said.
He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "I grew up years ago," he said. He turned back to the television set.
Maybe he did. I thought, but did that make him happier? Fit didn't have many friends because he was so much smarter than ever one else his age. When Flora had asked me if he had a girlfriend or even if he once had one and I said no. I suddenly wondered why not. He wasn't ugly. There were girls who thought he was cute and handsome. Did I dare ask him? I was afraid to, afraid to get him angry at me again. Mama might hear and get even more upset.
Ian went to bed before I did. When I finally did, it was difficult to fall asleep. Maybe I had slept too much during the day, but every time I closed my eyes. I thought I heard the sound of a car coming into the driveway and then listened hard for Daddy's footsteps on the steps and porch. Before I had gone to bed. I had stood there by the window for the longest time waiting to see a car's headlights. I guess it was just wishful thinking. Finally. I fell asleep, but it seemed like I had drifted off just before morning because my eves snapped open when the sunlight washed over my face. I had forgotten to close my shades.
Mama was in my room before I sat up. "Don't forget your medicine every morning" she said. "We can't let any of this interfere with your medical problems, Jordan."
I took my dosage and then I asked her if Daddy had come back. Perhaps he had while I had slept and I hadn't heard him.
"No. Jordan," she said. "This is not a children's story. It doesn't have a happy ending. I'm afraid. Come on. Get yourself up and dressed. There are things to be done."
I did as she said.
Ian was already in the kitchen having breakfast. "Are we still going horseback riding today?" he asked.
I had forgotten all about that. I looked quickly at Mama.
"Of course," she said. "We have reservations. Your father's leaving is not going to stop us from doing fun things together."
Ian didn't look happy or unhappy about it. He nodded thoughtfully.
"You know I read about this program for disabled children in which they use horses to help them. Somehow, riding energizes them. Some even stop being disabled for a while."
"Really?" Mama asked. "That is interesting, Ian."
"Maybe they'll cheer us up," he said, and I wondered if in his mind we were considered disabled now.
Mama did, too. I could see it in her face, in the way her eyes narrowed and looked like they were filling with pain.
"You must never, ever think of yourselves as anything less because of what's happened between your father and me," she said as firmly as I heard her say anything. "Do you hear me, Ian?"
"Of course I don't think that way," he replied. "I am what I make myself," he said.
It sounded like he needed no one, not Daddy, not Grandmother Emma, not me, and not Mama, but Mama still smiled.
"Good," she said. "Good. You listen to your brother, Jordan. He's very wise."
I looked at Ian. Whenever he was contented, he had a way of bringing the corners of his mouth in just a little. It wasn't a smile on the outside, but it told me he was smiling on the inside. Sometimes. I thought my brother had two bodies, one everyone saw, and one only he saw and knew existed.
"Jordan, put on your jeans. You can't go horseback riding in a skirt," Mama said.
I had gone horseback riding a few times. Only once before had Ian and I one together and that was up here at the lake, too. When I recalled it. I realized Daddy hadn't been with us then either. Mama was a very good rider. She had a friend from high school who had a ranch and horses and they often rode on weekends before she married Daddy, she said. In fact, that was where she first met Daddy. When she told me that story, she sounded very happy.
"I knew who your father was, of course. I expected him to be more stuck up, but he was more a flirt than a snob. Snobs don't make good lovers, you low." she had told me, and laughed. That was only last year.
How different our world was now.
Going to the horseback riding ranch in the mountains was a good idea. It took our minds off the family crisis. It was a beautiful day with a nice breeze, so it wasn't too hot for the ride. Mama made sure both Ian and I put on some sunscreen. She gave me one of her hats to wear. Ian had a cowboy hat that had been left at the cabin.
Even though we had gone horseback riding before. Mama insisted we take another lesson. Ian was annoyed about that. The young girl instructing us had no idea what she was in for when she began.
They had mounting blocks for us to stand on. "You always mount on the left side," she began.
"You mean the near side," Ian corrected.
"Huh?" she said. The other children and adults in the lesson looked at Ian.
"It's called the near side. The right side is called the off side," he explained.
She just looked at him a moment and then returned to her memorized directions.
"Hold the reins tight so your horse doesn't wander while you're trying to mount it, but not too tight or it will start to back up. Keep the reins in your left hand and take hold of the pommel with the same hand. Then with your right hand, turn the stirrup clockwise so you can get your foot in it. Be careful not to kick the horse or it will think it should move. Place your right hand over the back of the saddle."
"The cantle," Ian said. Again, she paused and looked at him. "That's what the back of the saddle is called," he told her.
She forced a smile. "Thanks, but for now, let's just get everyone mounted."
"It helps to know what it all is," he said.
She was obviously warned to always be pleasant because she kept her plastic smile and nodded. "Straighten your left leg as you spring up and swing your right leg over like this she said, doing it. "Then turn the right stirrup clockwise for your foot and put the reins into your right hand. See?" she said, speaking quickly so that Ian couldn't interrupt with any corrections.
Everyone tried it. Some of the adults were very clumsy and had to be lifted up and over the saddle. Ian mounted perfectly and sat straight.
"Okay, everyone, be sure you're balanced on your saddle. Sit at the lowest point and make sure your heels are lined up with your hips. Just keep the ball of your foot in the stirrup firmly. Keep your lower arms bent like this so your arms are like extensions of the reins."
She trotted by each of us to be sure we were sitting correctly. She went past Ian quickly and instructed everyone else in how to hold the reins. She advised us all to try to keep straight and balanced as best we could. Many people were looking at Ian, who sat perfectly. It was as if they thought they should watch and listen to him more than the instructor.
"We'll start with the walk," she said from the front of our line. Ian was right behind me. "Move your arms with the horse's head so you keep your hold on it firm."
We went around in a circle and she gave each person some more instructions. Ian was obviously riding perfectly, as was Mama, who was behind him.
After that, she instructed us on how to turn our horses and then slow them down and stop them. For our first ride, she said she would avoid trotting. This was the beginner's ride, after all. Ian was immediately upset about that.
"If you feel you can go faster, go on," she told him. She made it sound like a challenge.
Mama stayed alongside me all the while. Ian did break out of the line and was so good at controlling his horse, the instructor finally pulled alongside him and complimented him. When she heard how little he had really ridden, she was even more impressed.
It was a beautiful ride and very scenic. It took us nearly an hour and a half and I was sort when we finally stopped and were instructed in the proper way to dismount. My scratch was hurting again as well, but I didn't utter a single complaint because the whole time. Mama seemed happy. What was happening between her and Daddy was forgotten.
Ian was right
about horseback riding. I thought. We were disabled emotionally and it had, for the time being, stopped the bleeding of our tears inside or out.
But reality was waiting for us when we returned to the cabin. It took the form of Grandmother Emma.
She had been brought up in a limousine and she was waiting in the living room. Her chauffeur sat in the car like a robot turned off and waiting.
"I half expected this," Mama muttered. "As soon as we get inside, say hello and then excuse yourselves and go wait in your rooms or together in Ian's room, Jordan."
I looked at Ian. As usual it was hard for me to tell what he was thinking, but he certainly didn't look as frightened as I felt. My heart was thumping.
We followed Mama in and saw Grandmother Emma sitting in the living room.
Even the rustic chairs looked like thrones when she sat in one. "Hello, Grandmother," Ian said first.
"Hello, Grandmother," I followed.
She looked at us, but mostly at Ian, who still had some swelling around his eye. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing," Ian said.
"Nothing? Who struck you, and don't make up any stories."
"I got into a fight with another boy. It's not important."
"I'm not surprised," she said, even though Ian had never ever been in any sort of trouble at school or otherwise like this.
"You can be sure it was not his fault," Mama said sharply.. "Ian is a good boy."
"Yes," Grandmother Emma said. "I'm here to speak with your mother, children,'" she said.
Ian reached for my hand. "Call us when it's time to speak with us, too," he said, and pulled me gently to follow him to his room.
I felt guilty leaving, Mama behind. When I looked back at her, however, she was smiling.
And it occurred to me that she really did love Ian very much and appreciated his brilliant mind far more than Daddy did or even I did. How lucky we were to have him. I thought, and followed him more quickly.
When we went into his room, he surprised me when he didn't close the door completely. He left it open enough for us to peer out and listen.
"'Grandmother Emma will be angry if she sees us eavesdropping on her," I warned.
"Why? We'd be just like Nancy, her maid," he said. He put his finger to his lips so I would be quiet and we could listen and learn exactly what our fate would be.
15 Grandmother Emma Rearranges Our Lives
. "Did Christopher send you up here to do his dirty work?" Mama asked Grandmother Emma.
"Please, sit down, Caroline," Grandmother Emma replied. "Unlike my husband. I didn't and don't cover up for my son's failings and errors, as you should readily know by now, having lived in my home this long. I have never seen the value in helping someone avoid responsibility for his or her actions. I don't do anyone's dirty work."
"Really?" Mama said. "Refusing to admit to those errors and sins or pretending they don't exist is just as bad, and from what I know, that was your way of life when it came to your own husband."
I could just set Grandmother Emma bristling. Ian glanced at me, a tight smile of satisfaction on his face.
"Making small sacrifices for the greater good is not a bad thing, Caroline. You don't know all there is to know about my marriage and what life was like for me, for Christopher. I do not say I am beyond reproach, or that I didn't make mistakes. Of course I did. I'm human, but I don't dwell on them and wallow in self-pity either.
"Look," she continued, her tone suddenly softer. "I know you and I have not hit it off, as they say, and some fault for that resides with me, but like it or not, we are in a sense in the same boat and it does neither of us any good, especially at this particular moment, to be adversaries. I'm here not to cover up or do my son's dirty work, as you say, but to ensure that you, your children, do not suffer needlessly as a result of Christophes failings. That, indeed, none of us do," she added.
"Ifs too late for this conversation, Emma."
"Oh, of coarse it isn't," Grandmother Emma retorted instantly. "Believe me, I've seen many, many similar situations like this one. Probably ninety percent of the people I've known and socialized with have acme through identical crises. Some let it get the better of them and compounded all the misery for themselves and their families. Most took the sensible route and avoided unnecessary bloodletting.'"
"What is the sensible route in your eyes, Emma? Bury my head in the sand as you did? Pretending to be deaf and dumb when it came to your husband's indiscretions?"
"You don't know me after all, Caroline," Grandmother Emma said. "What the public saw was one thing, but what went on behind our doors, within our walls, was quite different, believe me.
Christopher's father paid a very high price for my deaf and dumb act, as you might call it. In the end it was he who came to me to plead for forgiveness and understanding. Yes, this powerful executive at one of the world's most successful companies groveled at my feet, not only because his future and his reputation were in grave danger, but because he couldn't sleep. Conscience is king after all.
"Oh, they put on their acts, their bravado performances, their macho faces, but in the dark, especially as they grow older and their own mortality comes into question more and more, they become little boys again, running home to Mother and seeking to be soothed, cuddled, and forgiven."
"I am not in the mood to soothe, cuddle, or forgive Christopher, Emma. In my heart I've always known how weak he is, how selfish and spoiled and..."
"Yes, yes, yes. We've both known that, but you married him. Caroline, and I can't believe you didn't know him for who and what he was then. What's more, you said. For better or for worse.. You took marriage vows."
"You didn't come here to hold me to that, Emma. I know what you think of religion, of sacraments and commandments. Of all things you are not, you are not a hypocrite. I'll give you that, Emma. What you believe in, you believe in strongly and consistently."
"Precisely," Grandmother Emma said. She was quiet a moment.
"Besides, you're not here because I violated my marriage vows. You're here because Christopher did."
"There are all sorts of violations, even violating yourself. Would it be possible to have something cold to drink?"
"I have juices, sodas, beer."
"Some plain soda water, if you have it."
"Fine," Mother said.
Ian closed the door a little as Mother walked past us to the kitchen. He left it open just a crack. I knelt down and looked out. We both saw Mama through the kitchen doorway. She paused after pouring Grandmother Emma a glass of soda and held her hand over her eyes. I thought her shoulders shuddered. Then she straightened up and returned to the living room.
"Thank you," Grandmother Emma told her.
"Listen, Emma, you're wasting your time here. I have already contacted my attorney. Papers are being prepared. Christopher has been cheating on me for years. I know only of one woman, but I have the sense there were many. You yourself have criticized him for being a poor father, for being self-centered. There is no point in prolonging anyone's agony."
"Very noble speech," Grandmother Emma said.
"I mean it, every word," Mama said sharply back at her.
"I'm sure you do. But that's the little girl in you, the bruised ego. I'm here to make sure you listen to the woman in you, the sensible and intelligent voice you bear as well. As it turns out, you and I are not so different after all, and it's not just that we both married March men. You have pride and you are stronger than your husband, just as I was stronger than mine. You've held your family together, just as I held mine. Now, unfortunately, you have reached a fork in the road, as I did, and you have to look down one side and ask yourself. Is this the road I want to take, a road that will satisfy the little girl in me, but not be as helpful to my children? Or should I take the other road, the road I'm willing to ensure brings great opportunities to my children?"
"Why aren't they your grandchildren as much as they are my children?"
"I wouldn't be here i
f they weren't,"
Grandmother Emma said, "but if you take them away from the March world, they will be less so."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, no, just a statement of fact, Caroline. I don't come here armed with threats. I come armed with promises.. I simply want you to avoid tragic mistakes."
"My God, Emma, this is the twenty-first century. People survive divorces and their children do, too. You're still living in that Golden age of yours. Those sorts of social mores, rules, and beliefs are gone. They're gone!"
"Not for me, they're not," Grandmother Emma said firmly.
"What do you want from me?" Mama cried.
"Call your attorney and tell him you've changed your mind. He's not the sort of attorney you would want involved in something like this anyway. He's an opportunist, an ambulance chaser, a low-class gutter fighter."
"Exactly the sort of attorney I would need to do battle with a March," Mama said.
"Don't be ridiculous. He's no match for what I can produce. It will be a long, drawn-out affair. You'll be in battle for every nickel and dime. We'll even fight you on custody of your children."
"Custody of my children? How could you even think..."
"Jordan's condition would be exposed and how poorly you've handled it."
"What? As soon as I found out--"
"You kept it secret. You were too embarrassed or whatever to take her immediately to the doctor. Never mind that you hid all this from me, another woman, you hid it from your own husband until she had an abnormal menstruation, and now you have her thirteen-year-old brother tutoring her about sex."
"Tutoring?"
"What did he give her for her birthday?"
The silence we heard thundered in both our hearts and minds. "Christopher told you about that?"
"Of course," Grandmother Emma said. "And also that you approved and even complimented him on the gift."
"He was just trying to be helpful, to be a big brother."
"A thirteen-year-old boy is now an expert on female matters? What other advice has he given her? Do you even know?"