A Cry in the Night

  She went through the rest of the downstairs rooms, making mental notes. A little at a time, she promised herself. She folded the curtains neatly and carried them up to the attic. The braided rug was there. If she couldn’t manage to bring that down by herself she’d call Joe.

  She yanked at the rug she wanted, realized there was no way she could manage it alone and with idle curiosity glanced at the other pieces in the room.

  A small blue leather vanity case with the initials C.B.K. caught her eye. She pulled it out to examine it. Was it unlocked? Hesitating for only an instant, she deflected one then the other of the catches. The lid swung up.

  Toilet articles were set in a traylike holder. Creams and makeup and pine-scented soap. A leather-bound daily reminder notebook was under the tray. The date on the cover was twenty-five years old. Jenny opened the book and flipped through the pages. January 2, 10 A.M., teacher conference, Erich. January 8: dinner, Luke Garrett, the Meiers, the Behrends. January 10: return library books. She skimmed through the entries. February 2: judges chambers, 9 A.M. Would that have been the divorce hearing? Feb. 22: order hockey stick for E. The last entry, March 8: Erich b-day. That had been written in light blue ink. Then with a different pen, 7 P.M., Northwest flight 241, Minneapolis to San Francisco. A ticket unused, one-way, clipped to that page, a note under it.

  The name printed across the top of the note: EVERETT BONARDI. Caroline’s father, Jenny thought. Quickly she read the uneven handwriting: “Caroline, dear. Your mother and I are not surprised to learn you are leaving John. We are deeply concerned about Erich but after reading your letter agree it is best if he stays with his father. We had no idea of the true circumstances. Neither of us has been well but are looking forward to having you with us. Our love to you.”

  Jenny folded the letter, slipped it back in the notebook and closed the lid of the vanity case. What had Everett Bonardi meant when he wrote “We had no idea of the true circumstances”?

  Slowly she went down the attic stairs. The girls were still asleep. Lovingly she looked down at them, then her mouth went dry. The girls’ dark red hair was tumbled out on their pillows. On the top of each pillow, positioned so it almost seemed to be a hair ornament, was a small round cake of pine soap. The faint scent of pine permeated the air.

  “Aren’t they the little beauties?” a voice sighed in her ear. Too startled to scream, Jenny spun around. A thin, bony arm encircled her waist. “Oh, Caroline,” Rooney Toomis sighed, her eyes vacant and moist, “don’t we just love our babies?”

  Somehow Jenny got Rooney out of the room without waking the girls. Rooney went willingly although she kept her arm wrapped around Jenny’s waist. Awkwardly they descended the stairs.

  “Let’s have a cup of tea,” Jenny suggested, trying to keep her voice normal. How had Rooney gotten in? She must still have a house key.

  Rooney sipped the tea silently, never taking her gaze from the window. “Arden used to love those woods,” she said. “Course she knew she wasn’t to go any farther than the edge. But she was always climbing trees. She’d perch up there in that one”—Rooney pointed vaguely to a large oak—“and watch the birds. Did I tell you she was president of the 4-H club one year?”

  Her voice was calming. Her eyes were clearer when she turned to look at Jenny. “You’re not Caroline,” she said, puzzled.

  “No, I’m not. I’m Jenny.”

  Rooney sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I forgot. Something came over me, one of my spells. I was thinking I was late getting to work. Thought I’d overslept. Course Caroline would never care but Mr. John Krueger was so exacting.”

  “And you had a key?” Jenny asked.

  “I forgot my key. The door was unlocked. But I don’t have a key anymore, do I?”

  Jenny was positive the lock had been on the kitchen door. On the other hand . . . She decided not to try to pin Rooney down.

  “And I went upstairs to make the beds,” Rooney said. “But they were all finished. And then I saw Caroline. No, I mean I saw you.”

  “And you put the pine soap on the children’s pillows?” Jenny asked.

  “Oh, no. Caroline must have done that. She was the one who loved that scent.”

  It was useless. Rooney’s mind was too confused to attempt to separate imagination from reality. “Rooney, do you ever go out to church or to any meetings? Do you ever have friends in?”

  Rooney shook her head. “I used to go to all the activities with Arden, the 4-H, the school plays, her band concerts. But no more.”

  Her eyes were clear now. “I shouldn’t be here. Erich won’t like it.” She looked fearful. “You won’t tell him or Clyde, will you? Promise you won’t tell.”

  “Of course I won’t.”

  “You’re like Caroline, pretty and gentle and sweet. I hope nothing happens to you. That would be such a shame. Toward the end Caroline was so anxious to get away. She used to say, ‘I just have a feeling, Rooney, that something terrible is going to happen. And I’m so helpless.’” Rooney got up to go.

  “Didn’t you wear a coat?” Jenny asked.

  “I guess I didn’t notice.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jenny dug her thermal coat out of the foyer closet. “Put this on. Look, it fits you perfectly. Button it up around the neck. It’s cold out.”

  Hadn’t Erich said practically the same thing to her at that first lunch in the Russian Tea Room? Was that really less than two months ago?

  Rooney glanced around uncertainly. “If you want I’ll help you move the table back before Erich comes.”

  “I don’t intend to move the table back. It’s staying right where it is.”

  “Caroline had it at the window once but John said she was just trying to show herself off to the men on the farm.”

  “What did Caroline say?”

  “Nothing. She just put on her green cape and went outside and sat on the porch swing. Just like in the picture. Once she told me she used to like to sit out there and face west because that’s where her folks were. She got awful homesick for them.”

  “Didn’t they ever come here to visit?”

  “Never. But Caroline still loved the farm. She was raised in the city but she’d always say, ‘This country is so beautiful, Rooney, so special in what it does for me.’”

  “And then she left?”

  “Something happened and she decided she had to go.”

  “What was that?”

  “I don’t know.” Rooney glanced down. “This coat is nice. I like it.”

  “Please keep it,” Jenny told her. “I’ve hardly worn it since I came here.”

  “If I do, can I make the girls jumpers like you promised?”

  “Of course you can. And, Rooney, I’d like to be your friend.”

  Jenny stood at the kitchen door, watching the slight figure, now warmly wrapped, bend forward against the wind.

  16

  It was the waiting that was so hard. Was Erich angry? Had he simply become so involved in painting that he hadn’t wanted to break his concentration? Did she dare go into the woods, try to find the cabin and confront him?

  No, she must not do that.

  The days seemed endlessly long. Even the children became restless. Where’s Daddy? was a constant inquiry. In this short time, Erich had become terribly important to them.

  Let Kevin stay away, Jenny prayed. Make him leave us alone.

  She spent her time concentrating on the house. Room by room she rearranged furniture, sometimes switching only a chair or table, sometimes making radical adjustments. Unwillingly Elsa helped her take down the rest of the heavy lace curtains. “Look, Elsa,” Jenny finally said firmly, “these curtains are coming down and I don’t want any more talk about checking with Mr. Krueger first. Either help me or don’t.”

  Outside, the farm seemed gray and depressing. When the snow was on the ground, it had had a Currier and Ives beauty. When spring came, she was sure the lush green of the fields and trees would be magnificent. But now the frozen mud, the bro
wn fields, the dark tree trunks and overcast skies chilled and depressed her.

  Would Erich come back to the house for his birthday? He’d told her that he was always on the farm that day. Should she cancel his birthday dinner?

  The evenings alone were interminable. In New York when the children were settled for the night, she’d often gone to bed with a book and a cup of tea. The library on the farm was excellent. But the books in this library didn’t invite leisurely reading. They were placed in exact rows, seemingly by size and color rather than author or subject. To her, they had the same effect as furniture with plastic covers; she hated to touch them. Her problem was solved when on one of her trips to the attic she noticed a box marked BOOKS—CBK. Happily she helped herself to a couple of the comfortably shabby, well-read volumes.

  But even though she read far into the night, she was finding it harder and harder to sleep. All her life she’d only had to close her eyes and instantly she’d be in a sound sleep for hours. Now she began to wake up frequently, to dream vague, frightening dreams in which shadowy figures slithered through her subconscious.

  On March 7, following a particularly restless night, she made up her mind. She needed more exercise. After lunch she went out to hunt for Joe and found him in the farm office. His unaffected pleasure at the visit was reassuring. Quickly she explained: “Joe, I want to start riding lessons today.”

  Twenty minutes later she was sitting astride the mare, trying to keep Joe’s instructions straight in her head.

  She realized she was enjoying herself thoroughly. She forgot the chill, the sharp wind, the fact that her thighs were getting sore, that her hands were tingling against the reins. Softly she spoke to Fire Maid. “Now you at least give me a chance, old girl,” she suggested. “I’ll probably make mistakes but I’m new at this business.”

  By the end of an hour she was getting the feel of moving her body in cadence with the horse. She spotted Mark watching her and waved to him. He came over.

  “You look pretty good. This your first time on a horse?”

  “The very first.” Jenny started to dismount. Quickly Mark took the horse’s bridle. “The other side,” he said.

  “What, oh, sorry.” She slid down easily.

  “You did real good, Jenny,” Joe told her.

  “Thank you, Joe. Monday okay with you?”

  “Anytime, Jenny.”

  Mark walked with her to the house. “You’ve got a fan in Joe.”

  Was there some kind of warning in his voice?

  She tried to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a good teacher and I think Erich will be pleased that I’m learning to ride. It will be a surprise for him that I’ve started taking lessons.”

  “I hardly think so,” Mark commented. “He was watching you for quite a while.”

  “Watching me?”

  “Yes, for nearly half an hour from the woods. I thought he didn’t want to make you nervous.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He went up to the house for a minute and then started back to the cabin.”

  “Erich was in the house?” I sound stupid, Jenny thought, hearing the astonishment in her voice.

  Mark stopped, took her arm and turned her to him. “What’s the matter, Jenny?” he asked. Somehow she could imagine him examining an animal, searching for the source of pain.

  They were almost at the porch. She said stiffly, “Erich has been staying at the cabin since he came back from Atlanta. It’s just that it’s rather lonely for me now. I’m used to being terribly busy and around people and now . . . I guess I feel out of touch all around.”

  “See if it doesn’t get much better after tomorrow,” Mark advised. “By the way, are you sure you want us for dinner?”

  “No. I mean, I’m not even sure Erich will be home. Could we make it the thirteenth instead? That will separate his birthday party from the anniversary. If he still hasn’t come back by then, I’ll give you a call and you two can decide if you want to come just to visit me or go out and enjoy yourselves.”

  She was afraid she sounded resentful. What’s the matter with me? she thought, dismayed.

  Mark took both her hands in his. “We’ll come, Jenny, whether Erich is home or not. For what it’s worth I’ve had Erich turn on me when he gets in one of his moods. The rest of the picture is that when he comes out of them, he’s all the good things— intelligent, generous, talented, kind. Give him a chance to get through tomorrow and see if he isn’t the real Erich again.”

  With a quick smile, he squeezed her hands, released them and left her. Sighing, Jenny entered the house. Elsa was ready to go. Tina and Beth were cross-legged on the floor, crayons in hand. “Daddy brought us new coloring books,” Beth announced. “Aren’t they good?”

  “Mr. Krueger left note for you.” Elsa pointed to a sealed envelope on the table.

  Jenny felt the curiosity in the woman’s eyes. She slipped the note into her pocket. “Thank you.”

  As the door closed behind the cleaning woman, Jenny pulled the envelope from her pocket and ripped it open. The sheet of paper, covered by oversized letters in Erich’s bold handwriting, held one sentence: You should have waited for me to ride with you.

  “Mommy, Mommy.” Beth was tugging at her jacket. “You look sick, Mommy.” Trying to smile, Jenny looked down at the woebegone face. Tina was next to Beth now, her face puckered, ready to cry.

  Jenny crumbled the note and shoved it in her pocket. “No, love, I’m fine. I just didn’t feel so well for a minute.”

  She was not reassuring Beth. A wave of nausea had come over her as she read the note. Dear God, she thought, he can’t mean this. He won’t let me go to the church meetings. He won’t let me use the car. Now he won’t let me even learn to ride when he’s painting.

  Erich, don’t spoil it for us, she protested silently. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t hole up and paint and expect me to sit with my hands folded waiting for you. You can’t be so jealous that I’m afraid to be honest with you.

  She glanced around wildly. Should she take a stand, pack and go back to New York? If there was any chance to keep their relationship from being destroyed, he’d have to get counseling, get some help to overcome this possessiveness. If she left, he’d know she meant it.

  Where could she go? And with what?

  She didn’t have a dollar in her pocketbook. She had no money for fare, no place to go, no job. And she didn’t want to leave him.

  She was afraid she was going to be sick. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered and hurried upstairs. In the bathroom she wrung out a cold cloth and washed her face. Her reflection had a sickly, unnatural pallor.

  “Mommy, Mommy.” Beth and Tina were in the hallway. They had followed her upstairs.

  She knelt down, swooped them to her, hugging them fiercely.

  “Mommy, you’re hurting me,” Tina protested.

  “I’m sorry, Moppet.” The warm, wiggling bodies close to hers restored her balance. “You two certainly got yourselves one brilliant mother,” she said.

  The afternoon dragged slowly. To pass the time, she sat with the girls at the spinet and began to teach them to pick out notes. Without the curtains it was possible to look out the parlor windows and see the sunset. The clouds had been blown away and the sky was coldly beautiful in shades of mauve and orange, gold and pink.

  Leaving the children banging on the keyboard, she walked to the kitchen door that opened onto the west porch. The wind was making the porch swing move gently. Ignoring the cold, Jenny stood on the porch and admired the last of the sunset. When the final lights were ebbing into grayness, she turned to go back into the house.

  A movement in the woods caught her attention. She stared. Someone was watching her, a shadowy figure, nearly concealed by the double trunk of the oak tree that Arden used to climb.

  “Who’s there?” Jenny called sharply.

  The shadow receded into the woods as though trying to step back into the protection of the underbrush.
r />   “Who’s there?” Jenny called again sharply. Aware only of her anger at the intrusion on her privacy, she started down the porch steps toward the woods.

  Erich stepped out from the shelter of the oak and with outstretched arms started running toward her.

  “But, darling, I was only joking. How could you have thought for a minute that I wasn’t joking?” He took the crumbled note from her. “Here, let’s throw that out.” He shoved it in the stove. “There, it’s gone.”

  Bewildered, Jenny looked at Erich. There wasn’t a trace of nervousness about him. He was smiling easily, shaking his head at her in amusement. “It’s hard to believe you took that seriously, Jenny,” he said, then he laughed. “I thought you’d be flattered that I pretended to be jealous.”

  “Erich!”

  He locked his arms around her waist, rubbed his cheek against hers. “Umm, you feel good.”

  Nothing about the fact that they hadn’t seen each other for a week. And that note wasn’t a joke. He was kissing her cheek. “I love you, Jen.”

  For a moment she held herself rigid. She had vowed that she would have it out with him, the absences, the jealousy, her mail. But she didn’t want to start an argument. She’d missed him. Suddenly the whole house seemed cheerful again.

  The girls heard his voice and came running back into the room. “Daddy, Daddy.” He picked them up.

  “Hey, you two sounded great on the piano. Guess we’ll have to start lessons for you pretty soon. Would you like that?”

  Jenny thought, Mark’s right. I’ve got to have patience, give him time. Her smile was genuine when he looked at her over the children’s heads.