Two unexpected events occurred just before moving day. The first was a Sunday-afternoon visit from Lieutenant Weber and his wife.
“We weren’t sure you would welcome us,” said the lieutenant when Lynn opened the door. “But Harris said you would. He wanted us to come over and say good-bye.”
“I’m glad you did,” Lynn answered, meaning the words, meaning that it was good to depart from a place without leaving any vague resentments behind.
When they sat down, Mrs. Weber explained, “Harris thought, well, since you are moving away, he thought we ought to be, well, not strangers,” she concluded, emphasizing strangers almost desperately. And then she resumed, “I guess he meant in case he and Emily—” and stopped again.
Lynn rescued her. “In case they get married, he wants us to be friends. Of course we will. Why wouldn’t we? We’ve never done each other any harm.”
“I’m thankful you feel that way,” Weber said. “I know I tried to do my best, but I’m sorry it didn’t work.”
“All of that is beginning to seem long ago and far away.” Lynn smiled. “Can you believe they’re already halfway through their sophomore year?”
“And doing so well with their A’s,” said Weber. “They seem to kind of run a race with each other, don’t they? On the last exam Emily beat, but Harris doesn’t seem to mind. It’s different these days. When I was a kid, I’d’ve been sore if my girlfriend ever came out ahead of me.”
“Oh, it’s different, all right,” Lynn agreed.
Talking to this man and this woman was easy, once the woman had recovered from her first unease. Soon Lynn found herself telling them about her plans, about the store she had rented and the house that Darwin had found for them.
“My brother-in-law’s aunt and uncle have moved to Florida, but they don’t want to sell their house in St. Louis because the market is so bad. So they’ll let me stay there for almost nothing, just to take care of it. We’ll be house-sitters.”
Almost unconsciously, Mrs. Weber glanced around the living room, which was as elegant as it had ever been except for the slipcover on the blood-stained sofa. The glance spoke to Lynn, and she answered it.
“I shan’t miss this at all, not even the kitchen.”
“Yes, Emily told us about your kitchen.”
“I’llshow it to you before you leave. Yes, it’s gorgeous. I’m taking my last money, my only money, to fix one like it in the shop. It’s a gamble, and I’m taking the gamble.”
So the conversation went; they talked a little more about Emily and Harris, talked with some pride and some natural parental worry. They admired the kitchen and left.
“No false airs there,” Lynn said to herself after the couple had gone. “If anything should come of it, Emily will be in honest company. Good stock.”
The second unexpected event concerned Eudora. She wept.
“I never thought you’d go away from here. I was sure that you and Mr. Lawrence—”
“Well, you were wrong. You all were.”
“I’ll miss my little man. And Annie too. And you, Mrs. Ferguson. I’ll think of you every time I make the crepes you taught me to make. You taught me so much. I’ll miss you.”
“We’ll miss you, too, don’t you know we will? But I can’t afford you. And the house isn’t at all like this one. It’s a little place that any woman can keep with one hand tied behind her back.”
For a moment Eudora considered that. Then her face seemed to brighten with an idea.
“You’ll need somebody in the shop, won’t you? How can you do all the cooking and baking and serving by yourself?”
“I can’t, of course. I’ll need to find a helper, or even two, if I should be lucky enough to see the business grow that much.”
“They wouldn’t have to be an expert like you, would they? I mean, they would be people to do easy things and people you could teach.”
There was a silence. And suddenly Lynn’s face brightened too. Why not? Eudora learned fast, and she was so eager, waiting there with hope and a plea in her eyes.
“Eudora, are you telling me that you would—”
“I’m telling you that I wish you would take me with you.”
The day arrived when the van that was to take the piano and the sundries rumbled up the drive. It was a colorless day under a motionless sky. The little group, almost as forlorn as the gray air, stood at the front door watching their few possessions being loaded into the van.
“Wait!” Lynn cried to the driver. “There’s something in the yard in back of the house. It’s a birdbath, a great big thing. Do you think you can make room?”
The man gave a comical grin. “A birdbath, lady?”
“Yes, it’s very valuable, it’s marble, with doves on it, and it mustn’t be cracked or chipped.”
“Okay. We’ll fit it in.”
“Mom, what do you want with it?” asked Annie.
“I don’t know. I just want it, that’s all.”
“Because Uncle Bruce gave it to you?”
That canny child was trying to read her mind.
“Maybe. Now bring out Barney in the carrier and put on Juliet’s leash. Don’t forget their food and a bowl for water. We’ve a long way to travel.”
So the final moment came. The van rumbled away, leaving the station wagon alone in the drive. For a moment they all took a last look at the house. Aloof as ever, it stood between the long lawns and the rising hill, waiting for new occupants as once it had waited for those who were now leaving it.
“The house doesn’t care about us,” Lynn said, “and we won’t care about it. Get in, everybody.”
The station wagon was full. Annie sat in the front, Eudora and Bobby had the second row, and in the third, alongside Barney in his carrier, sat Juliet, so proud in her height that her head almost touched the roof.
“We’re off!” cried Lynn. And not able, really, to comprehend the tumult of regret and hope and courage that whirled through her veins, she could only repeat the cry, sending it bravely through the quiet air: “We’re off!”
The car rolled down the drive, turned at the end, and headed west.
PART FIVE
Winter 1992–1993
Emily, who was home for spring break, propped her chin in her hands and leaned on the kitchen table as she watched Lynn put another pink icing rosebud on a long sheet cake.
“It seems so strange to have it still cold in March,” she remarked. “Right now in New Orleans the tourists are sitting in the French Market having a late breakfast, beignets and strong, dark coffee. Do you know how to make beignets, Mom?”
“I’ve never made any, but I can easily find out how.”
“That cake’s absolutely gorgeous. Where and when did you ever learn to be so professional?”
“At that three-week pastry course I took last year.”
“I’m so in awe of what you’ve done in just two years.”
“Two years and five months. But talk about awe! Harvard Medical School! I’m so proud of you, Emily, that I want to walk around with a sign on my back.”
“Wait till next September when I’ll actually be there.”
Cautiously, Lynn inquired, “How is Harris taking it?”
“What? My going to Harvard? He wasn’t admitted there, so I’ll go to Harvard and he’ll be at P & S, which is mighty good too. I don’t feel happy about it, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity like this one.”
You turned Yale down, Lynn thought, but said instead, “I wouldn’t expect you to. And if you still keep on loving each other, the separation won’t alter things.”
“Exactly,” agreed Emily.
She had come a long way. Yet she still looked like a high school girl with her jeans and sneakers and the red ribbon holding her hair back from her radiant face. From her father she had received some intellectual gifts and the handsome bone structure, but thank God, nothing more. She would do well with or without Harris or anyone else.
Never tell a d
aughter, Lynn thought now, that she’ll find a wonderful man who will love and take perfect care of her forever. That’s what my mother told me, but then it was in another time, another age.
With the last rose firmly affixed she stepped back to appraise her work.
“Well, that’s finished. I like to do jobs like this one here in my own kitchen. There’s too much going on at the shop for me to concentrate on fancy work.”
The kitchen smelled of warm sugar and morning peace. It was quiet time while Annie was in school and Bobby in nursery school, time for a second cup of coffee. And she sat down to enjoy one.
In their big basket five puppies squealed and tumbled, digging at their mother in their fight for milk.
“They’re so darling,” Emily said. “Are you going to keep them all?”
“Heavens, no. Annie wants to, of course, but we’ll have to find homes for four of them. I’ve consented to keep one. Then we’ll have Juliet spayed.”
Emily was amused. “How on earth did such a thing happen to our pure-bred Bergamasco lady?”
“She got out somewhere, maybe before I had this yard fenced in. Or maybe somebody got in. I have my suspicions about a standard poodle who lives near here, because a couple of pups have long poodle noses. They’re going to be enormous.”
One of them fell out of the basket just then and made a small puddle on the floor. Lynn jumped, replaced the pup, and cleaned the puddle, while Emily laughed.
“Mom, I was thinking, wouldn’t Dad be furious that Juliet had mongrel puppies?”
“He wouldn’t approve, that’s sure. He wouldn’t approve of this whole house, anyway.”
She looked out into the hall, where Bobby’s three-wheeler was parked and a row of raincoats hung on an old-fashioned clothes tree. How relaxing it was not to be picture perfect all the time, neat to the last speck of dust, prompt to the last split second.…
Emily remarked, “I rather like old Victorians with the wooden gingerbread on the front porch and all the nooks. Of course, this furniture’s pretty awful.”
“If I buy the house, I’ll certainly not buy the furniture. And I might buy it. They’ve decided to sell, and since they’re Uncle Darwin’s relatives, they’ve offered easy terms. Maybe I shouldn’t do it, but the neighborhood’s nice, the yard’s wonderful for Bobby, and I am finally meeting expenses with a little bit left over. So maybe I should.” Lynn smiled. “Live dangerously! Have I told you that I’ve given Eudora a ten percent interest in the business, plus a salary? She’s my partner now, and she’s thrilled. She learns fast when I teach her. And, of course, she has her own Jamaican dishes that people love, her rice-and-peas, her banana pies, all good stuff. She can oversee the shop while I’m home baking or, if I’m busy at the shop, she’ll come back here to let Annie and Bobby in after school. So it’s been working out well for all of us.”
Emily, absorbed in this account, marveled at the way the business had just “leapt off the ground” and “taken flight.”
“There’s a big demand,” responded Lynn. “With so many women working now, it’s not just a question of dinners and parties, it’s also all the food we freeze and cook daily to sell over the counter. Besides, it was a good idea to come back here where dozens of people remembered me.”
Emily asked, “Does Uncle Bruce write often?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say often, but he certainly writes.”
His friendly chatty letters. His work, his travels. And nothing more.
“The latest news is that they want him to open a new office in Moscow. He’s been taking lessons in Russian.”
Emily opened her mouth, made a sound, and closed her mouth.
“What is it? What is it you want to say?”
“I wanted to ask—to ask whether you ever heard from Dad.”
“The only contact I have or will ever want to have is with the bank, when they forward his remittances for all of you. Apparently he has a very good job.” Lynn hesitated over whether to say anything more, and then, deciding to, went ahead. “Have you heard from Dad?”
“A birthday present, a check, and a book of modern poetry. He didn’t say anything much about himself, just hoped I was happy.”
His girls, his Emily, Lynn thought, and, in a moment of painful empathy, felt Robert’s loss. But it was done, there was no undoing it.…
She stood up and removed her apron, saying briskly, “I have to go to the shop now. Oh, Aunt Helen’s going to come by to pick up the cake.”
“Twenty-five years married!”
“Yes, and happily.”
“Dad always thought Uncle Darwin was an idiot, didn’t he?”
“He thought a lot of people were, and he was wrong.”
It was uncomfortable to be reminded of Robert’s scorn, the twist of his mouth, the sardonic wit at other people’s expense, the subtle digs about the Lehmans’ being Jewish or even about Monacco’s being Italian. And it was obvious that Emily, too, had been uncomfortable asking.
On sudden impulse Lynn bent to stroke her daughter’s forehead. “What are you going to do while I’m gone, honey?”
“Nothing. Just be lazy. It’s vacation.”
“Good. You need to be lazy. Enjoy it.”
Let life be sweet, let it be tranquil, Lynn thought as she drove through the quiet suburban streets. As best we can, we must plaster over the taint and the stain. Bobby would not remember that night, and Annie always would; but her intelligence, which Robert had so disparaged, would help her. It had already helped her. And therapy had helped, but chiefly she had improved because Robert was gone. It was as simple as that. She had lost twenty pounds, so that her face, no longer pillowed in fat, had developed a kind of piquant appeal. Her hair had been straightened, and now, for the first time, she was pleased with herself. She had even gone back, entirely unbidden, to the piano!
They had come far since the day the station wagon had crossed the Mississippi and they had spent their first night in the strange house. It had been after midnight, raining and very cold. Darwin had started the furnace, and Helen had made up the beds into which they had all collapsed.
The rain had beaten at the window of the strange room where Lynn lay. From time to time she had raised her head to the bedside alarm clock. Three o’clock … Her heart had jumped in a surge of pure panic. Here she was, responsible for all these people, for her children and even for Eudora, so hopeful, so faithful, and so far from home. Panic spoke: You can’t go it alone. It’s too much and too hard. You don’t know anything. All right, you can cook, but you’re no five-star genius. What makes you think you can do this? How dare you think you can? Fool, fool, you can’t. And the rain kept beating. Even the rain, as it told of the relentless world outside, was hostile. Then dawn came, a dirty gray dawn, to spill its dreary light upon the ugly furniture in the strange room.
What are you thinking of? You can’t do it alone.
But she had done so. She had admonished herself: Head over heart. You won’t accomplish anything lying here in bed and shivering with fear. So she had gotten up, and in that same dreary dawn, had taken pen and paper to make a list.
First there was school registration and continued counseling for Annie. Then a visit to the store that was, she had thought wryly, to make her fortune, to see there what needed to be done. Next, a visit to one of those volunteer businessmen’s groups where someone would show her how to go about starting a business; she had read that these groups could be very helpful.
“The world is not as unfriendly as it often seems to be,” Tom had assured her. Maybe, she had thought in that gray dawn, maybe it’s true. I shall find out soon enough.
And now Lynn had to smile, remembering how very friendly it could be. For the man who had helped her the most, a fairly young man, retired in his mid-forties, had been sufficiently admiring of what he called her “enterprise,” to become very serious, serious enough to propose marriage.
“I like you,” she had told him, “and I thank you. I like you very much, but I
am not interested in getting married.”
It was one thing and very natural to desire the joy of having a man in the bed; it was one thing to welcome the trust and commitment of a man as friend; but to be possessed in marriage, to be devoured in marriage as she had been, even discounting Robert’s violence, was another thing. He had devoured her. It was this that she feared. The day might come when equality in marriage might seem a possibility and she would have lost her fear, but not yet. Not yet. At least not with any of the men she had been seeing.
There had been men to whom Helen and their old friends had introduced her, men decent, intelligent, and acceptable. Some of them had been fun in many ways. Yet that was all. She was not ready.
She liked to say, laughing a little at the excuse, although it was obviously a true one, that she simply hadn’t the time! When people, usually women, inquired and urged, “Why don’t you? George or Fred or Whoever is really so nice, so right for you,” she would protest that she had Annie and an active little boy, she had the business, she hadn’t an hour; couldn’t everyone see that?
Sometimes—often—she thought of Bruce. She relived the day, the only day, they had made love. Time had faded the guilt and left her with the memory of a singular joy. She thought about it long and deeply now, wanting to relive it and to understand it. And, ultimately, she came to understand the subtle difference between sex that was giving and sex that was all taking, sex that was ownership. Robert had owned her, while Bruce had not. And she knew in her heart that Bruce would never want to own a woman; he would want her to be free and equal.
But it was useless to be thinking at all about him. Except for those brief letters and postcards with pictured castles from Denmark or Greece, he had disappeared into another life, vanished from the stage on which Lynn’s life was being played.