When Jet threw open the door, she embraced April and her daughter, who resembled Franny, though her hair was as black as Jet’s and Vincent’s. For the first time since Levi’s death Jet felt a bit of happiness when she looked into the face of the little girl. She wasn’t even grumpy to have been woken and introduced to a stranger. She was very serious and she shook Jet’s hand and said, “Very nice to meet you.”
“I can’t believe how big Regina is! And how polite! Are you sure she’s an Owens?”
“She most assuredly is.”
“You should have told us you were coming for a visit. I would have prepared something special. Now the house is a mess.”
“That’s immaterial. And this is not a visit, dear Jet. It’s a jailbreak.” April had an overstuffed backpack and a duffel bag, both of which she deposited on the couch in the parlor. There were dark circles under her eyes and she appeared drained. “My parents want to take Reggie from me. They want her to grow up on Beacon Hill and go to a private school in a chauffeured car. It’s everything I don’t want for her. Everything I wanted to escape from. They said they’d fight me in court if they had to. I think they’ve already retained a lawyer. So I’m headed to California. Let them try to find me there. This is just a pit stop. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You know you can stay as long as you’d like.”
Franny came in from the garden with a basket of herbs she had just picked, comfrey, mint, and, though it was not as often needed these days due to the birth control pill, pennyroyal. City soot had veined the herbs’ leaves black, so Franny always had to soak them in cold water and vinegar in the big kitchen sink. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the little girl.
Regina looked up at her and smiled. “You’re the good witch,” she said.
Franny laughed. She’d certainly never thought of herself that way, still she was charmed. “Have you ever heard of a tipsy cake?” she asked.
Regina shook her head no.
“Why, it’s absolutely delicious. It’s the most chocolaty chocolate you’ll ever taste. I think I’ll make you one.”
Franny nodded a greeting when April came into the kitchen in search of Regina. She thought their cousin looked the worse for the wear, with her pale hair lifeless and her already slender frame now excessively thin. “We’re just about to make a tipsy cake, but I’ll leave out the rum,” Franny said. “For Regina’s sake. I must say, this is a surprise. But then that’s your style, isn’t it? Just show up out of nowhere.”
“I won’t impose, Franny. I just need a night. We’re leaving for California tomorrow. I’ve got a ride on something called the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, a van that goes cross-country.”
The little girl shivered when California was mentioned. She was so sensitive she seemed a walking prediction, as if she had the sight times two.
“You don’t think you’ll like California?” Franny asked the child.
“Maybe. But I know what happens there.”
“Which is?” Franny pressed.
“Well, people die,” the little girl said.
“For goodness’ sake,” April said. “People die everywhere.”
“You should avoid California,” Franny told her cousin. “She has a premonition. There are better places to raise your daughter.”
“You sound like my mother. Say whatever you want. I’ve made up my mind. I’ve got my degree from MIT, despite my mother’s protests. Biology. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past four years. I have a friend at a geo lab in Palm Desert. I can work there and Regina can be safe for a while.”
Jet came in to make tea. “Safe from what?”
April glanced over at Franny, who was studying the child. “You see it, don’t you?”
Franny did. There was a halo around Regina that usually indicated a shortened life span. Such people seemed more alive when they were young, filled with light. She had never told a soul that Vincent had had the same halo around him when he was a baby, and perhaps this was why she’d always been so protective of him.
Regina sat cross-legged on the floor to play with Wren. “She’s got gray eyes, Momma. Like us.”
“Of course,” Franny told the little girl. “That’s because she’s an Owens cat.”
When it came down to it, Franny was sorry she and April always had quarreled. She wished she could console her cousin, but there was no way to skirt around some things. Not when they both had the sight.
“I want her to have a happy life, a free life,” April said, resigned. “I’m going to do everything I can to see that she gets it. She’ll find that in California. People are more open there. Not so quick to judge.”
Jet had collected a pile of books for the child. “I really don’t know what you two are talking about.”
April turned to observe Jet. “You’ve lost the sight. Maybe that’s for the best.”
“I had no choice in the matter,” Jet said. “My fate wasn’t what I thought it would be.”
“I know what that feels like,” April said in a soft voice, just as the front door was falling open.
Vincent had arrived. Jet had telephoned and insisted he come to dinner. Hearing his cousins’ voices he now knew why. He wandered in with his dog at his heels and bowed to April. “To what do we owe this visit?”
“Bad luck and the need to run away.”
“It’s always the same story,” Vincent said with a grin. “Parent trouble.”
“You know so much and yet so little,” April remarked.
No one mentioned Vincent’s involvement with William. Franny because she didn’t think to do so, and Jet because she knew it would be painful news for April. She wanted this evening to be a happy time, and it was exactly that. Thankfully, April had never had the ability to get inside Vincent’s head. Regina took to him, just as she had when she was a baby. After dinner, she begged him to read aloud from Half Magic by Edward Eager, her favorite book, and he obliged. Vincent thought the novel was advanced for her age, but Regina was not a typical child. She had taught herself to read, and always carried a book with her. Vincent was especially funny when he acted out the dialogue of a cat that was half real and could only half talk. Regina was soon enough in fits of bright laughter.
Vincent’s dog was at his feet, his shadow, silent and dignified and more than a little mortified when Regina laid her cuddly stuffed bunny rabbit beside him.
“I call her Maggie,” Regina said.
“Do you?” Vincent said, giving April a grin.
“What did you expect her to call it? Mrs. Russell?” April teased.
“How did you know about that?” Vincent asked. Then he saw a look exchanged between April and Jet. “Does everyone know all the details of my life?”
“Not all,” Jet said.
“Hardly anything,” April assured him.
When the chocolate cake was ready they had it hot from the oven, served with mounds of vanilla ice cream.
“Am I allowed to have that?” Regina asked.
“Of course,” Vincent told her. “Always remember,” he whispered, “live a lot.”
Regina ate most of her cake. “You can have the rest,” she told Vincent, as she set to work on a drawing of Harry and Wren. In her rendering the two were best friends who held each other’s paws.
Vincent was charmed by the child, but when he glanced at his watch he stood up. “I’m late,” he said.
“For a very important date?” April said, blinking.
“Indeed,” Vincent said. “I’m involved with someone.”
“Don’t tell me you actually care about someone?”
“We’re not supposed to, are we?” Vincent joked.
“No,” April said. “We’re not.”
Vincent grinned and kissed the little girl good-bye on the forehead, then went out with his dog, two shadows spilling into the night. “See you when I see you,” he called over his shoulder.
“See you when I see you,” Regina called back.
“He’s still the sa
me,” April said.
“Not completely,” Jet said. There was no need to go into details and hurt April any more than she already was.
“Vincent is Vincent, thank goodness,” Franny said as she started in on the dishes.
April shook her head. She pulled her daughter onto her lap. “Will he ever grow up?”
“Yes,” Jet said. “And we’ll be sad when he does.”
In the morning, the cousins were gone. Regina’s drawing of a black dog and a black cat had been left on the kitchen table. Franny had it framed later that afternoon, and from then on she kept it in the parlor, and even years later, when she moved and left almost everything behind, she took it with her, bundled in brown paper and string.
PART FOUR
Elemental
She saw Haylin walking down the path. At first she thought she had conjured him, and perhaps he was a ghostly image of himself, but no, it was Hay. He was so tall she spotted him right away, wearing the same denim jacket he’d had since he was fifteen. Franny sat on the rock, knees to chest. She was a mess and damned herself for being so. The last time she’d seen him, she’d caused a scene in the hospital. Now she vowed to be calm and collected. She had lost him, so her heart shouldn’t be thudding against her chest. It was over, and she should be happy that he had been saved from throwing in his lot with an Owens woman.
She wore old sneakers and jeans and a black and white striped T-shirt she’d found in the ninety-nine-cent bin at the thrift store where they’d sold their mother’s beautiful clothes. She hadn’t even brushed her hair that morning.
Haylin spied her and waved, as if they’d seen each other only hours before. He came to sit beside her. “Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting here all these years?” Franny laughed out loud. Hay smiled, pleased he could make her laugh. But his hurt made him say more. “I know you haven’t been waiting for me. I’ve come here every time I’m home and you’re never here. So I gave up on us.”
Franny threw a hand over her mouth as if holding back a sob. Her eyes were rimmed with tears.
“Franny.” He hadn’t really wanted to hurt her.
“I’m not crying, if that’s what you think,” Franny responded, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“I know that. Do you think I’m an idiot?” They both laughed then. “Don’t answer that,” Hay said with a grin.
He was attending Yale Medical School, Franny’s father’s alma mater. It made perfect sense that he would become a doctor. He had always wanted to do good in the world. And it made sense, too, when he revealed he’d placed distance between himself and his family.
“I don’t go home anymore,” he said, morose as he always was when thinking about his heritage. “It’s like a fucking mausoleum with my father getting richer on the war, and my mother drinking so she won’t go berserk because she’s married to him.”
“Where do you stay when you come to New York?” When Hay glanced away, Franny knew. “Oh.” She could barely bring herself to say it. “With Emily.”
“You remember her name,” he said, surprised.
“Of course I do. Emily Flood, your roommate.”
“You don’t usually take note of people.” He flushed when Franny threw him a deadly look. “Well, you don’t!”
“Of course I took note of her, Haylin. How could I not?”
“Yeah,” Hay said, feeling more like an idiot than ever.
“So where is she? I’m shocked that she lets you out of her sight. Maybe you’d better run on back to her.”
“I don’t understand why you’re mad,” Hay said, frustrated and unwilling to bear her anger. “You’re the one who didn’t want me.”
“I had no choice! I had my brother and sister to see to. There was the accident to deal with. Or do you blame me for that?”
Franny stood up with the intention of leaving. When Hay took her arm, she glared at him. But he was looking at her the way he used to, when he was the only person in the world who really knew her.
“Don’t go yet,” he said.
“Why? You’re with Emily.”
“I am,” Haylin said.
“And do you blame me for that, too?”
She was heartless. The Maid of Thorns.
Haylin shook his head. If only he would stop looking at her like that. So she took it further.
“Well I’m glad you’re with her,” Franny said. “You’ll be happier than you would have ever been with me. She’s normal!”
Lewis was perched above them, ever vigilant, upset they were arguing. Hay called the bird to him and the crow skimmed the air and came to perch on the rock. He gazed at Franny for too long, and just when it seemed he might say something that would change their path, he snapped out of it. “I should probably leave Lewis with you. I don’t really have time for a pet.”
“I’ve told you! He’s not a pet! He comes and goes as he pleases. Isn’t it clear? He’s chosen you, Haylin. I don’t blame him.”
“Well, he can’t stay with me anymore. Emily has a fear of birds.”
“What if she does?”
“We live together in New Haven.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
He looked at her, but she simply stared. She wanted him to say it.
“I’m here for you.”
“But you live with her!”
“What should I have done? You never answered any of my letters. I thought you hated me because we were together when the accident happened.”
“What’s done is done. I don’t think either one of us should come here anymore.” He had made his choice, Franny thought. Emily. And there was the curse to protect him from. She refused to be responsible for any of his sorrow. “We were young and now we’re not.”
Haylin laughed a short unhappy laugh. His shoulders were hunched, the way they were when he sulked. “We’re twenty-four, Franny, for Christ’s sake. We have our whole lives to live. You’re going to let me marry her? Is that what you want?”
“Apparently that’s what you want.”
When she walked away she felt as though she were falling. It seemed as if the world was a snow globe that had been shaken, and where she’d ended up had nothing to do with where she had begun.
When she reached the zoo, Franny stopped and sat on a bench, with Lewis perched beside her.
“I suppose you’re mine,” she told him. In response he did the oddest thing; he sat on her lap and let her pet him, something he’d never done before. He made a funny clacking noise, then took to the sky. Was he letting her know that if she ran she could catch up with Haylin? She knew the paths he took to cut across the park. But his life was set out before him, and he would be better off without her, and because she still had no idea how to break the curse, Franny walked home, four miles as the crow flies. When she reached 44 Greenwich Avenue she went inside alone, and only the crow knew that it was possible for a woman to claim to have no heart at all and still cry as though her heart would break.
Vincent and William flew to San Francisco, a city cast out of a dream. It was the Summer of Love. Free love and a free society had called a hundred thousand people to the city. There were indeed flowers everywhere, and along the bay the scent of patchouli and chocolate infused the air. Strangers embraced them as they walked down Haight Street. In Manhattan, theirs was a secret society, but here the doors were open to everyone. They camped out in Golden Gate Park surrounded by eucalyptus trees, and when a pale mossy rain began, they raced for the shelter of the public library. There in the stacks they met a couple who invited them to their apartment in the Mission, where they spent the night on a quilt on the floor, entwined and madly in love. It was true, Vincent was in love, despite the warnings, despite the world, despite himself. This was what he had seen in the mirror in his aunt’s greenhouse, the image that had terrified him because from that moment he knew what he wanted, a life he thought he’d never have, and now, at last, he did.
In the morning they were given a breakfast of toast and honey-butter and orange
tea.
“Are you always so kind to strangers?” William asked their hosts.
“You’re not strangers,” they were told, and it seemed in this city, at this time, they were embraced by those who saw them for who they were.
They rode around in a convertible Mustang, borrowed from a cousin of William’s who lived in Mill Valley. The cousin had informed them California was not like New York; they did not need to keep themselves hidden. They had the nerve to kiss on a dock with a view of Alcatraz and the bright blue water of the bay. They went to clubs in the Castro District where they felt completely at home dancing until they were exhausted. They drove along in the pale light of dawn in an ecstasy of freedom. Magic was everywhere. They spied people wearing feathers and bells on Mount Tamalpais, and in cafés in the North End, and all along Divisadero Street, where young girls handed out magical, ceramic talismans in the shape of a triangle or an eye. Blessed be, they called, and indeed Vincent and William felt blessed to be in California.
In Monterey they slept in a cabin overlooking the ocean and made love in the blaze of the pure yellow sunlight and felt something dark lift away from them. They had been hidden, casting a clouding spell wherever they went in New York, but they would do that no longer. It was the end of secrets, the end of lies, the beginning of everything they did not yet know. Something was about to happen; they could both feel it. Vincent thought about the black mirror in his aunt’s greenhouse. There had been so many images, but now as his future became his present he recognized the visions he had seen.
William was acquainted with a publicist working for the record producer Lou Adler, who had come up with the idea for the Monterey Pop Festival, held on the weekend of June 16, 1967, inviting the Grateful Dead and Janis Joplin and the Who and Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding and many others for three days of music, and love, and peace. Somehow William had talked his friend into letting Vincent perform. When Vincent heard the news he hesitated; he was a street singer, not meant for large venues, but in the end he was talked into it and William slipped a roadie ten bucks so Vincent could use a guitar. He wore black and took off his boots and socks. William placed a wreath of leaves on his head just before he went onto the stage.