When Venus Fell

  I lay on the ground with my head in Gib’s arms. My hands hurt so badly. I kept them raised in front of my eyes to reassure myself they still existed. “Put up your hand, too,” I begged dizzily. “I need to know if I can feel something.”

  Gib slowly touched the forefinger of his maimed hand to the raw-pink forefinger of my hand. I exhaled. “Feel you there.”

  “I’m there. I’m here,” he answered. “You’re going to be okay, Nellie.”

  But I couldn’t hope. He would find the note, and the packed car. He’d figure out everything I’d meant to do, and why. I was helpless, terrified that Ella would be accused and despised, and that we would both be forgotten by the world, hated by Gib and the family I’d come to love.

  For the first time in my life, I fainted.

  Thirty-two

  When I was a teenager at the conservatory Dr. Andre Vanderbuten was my professor of theory and composition. He loved New Orleans’s steamy, gothic culture and all things southern. He tried to drawl, but his Dutch accent was as thick as a wooden shoe. “Play faster for me, yah, Arinelli?” he’d purr. “I’ll grade y’all by the extra notes y’all can dream in the space of a bird’s whisper, yah? Because beautiful music sings in the silence between the notes, as well. Play the silence. Yah.”

  I dreamed I was playing as fast as I could, obsessed with the notion I could smoke out the lovely silences, but the smoke burned me. Then I dreamed I stood at the narrow stone bridge over Cameron River, gazing up with doelike happiness at the Hall and the mountains behind it, all brilliantly colored like a fantastic movie, a kingdom illustrated in too bright, unrealistic hues, and then I turned slowly and saw Gib.

  He was dressed in the sterling-silver armor of a medieval knight, but also had a swath of red Cameron plaid buckled over his shoulder. Gib bent over me and shaded me from the heat. He set our wishing-rock, our earth-bound piece of the evening star, the white quartz rock, on my forehead and it felt like a wonderful amulet, healing and cooling. He took me by the shoulders and I reached up for him.

  “Ella did it,” he said. “You know she did. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t tell me the truth. Don’t betray my trust the way your father betrayed yours.”

  Fear returned like the wail of a Tennessee gully-witch. The Camerons had put Ella in jail by now. Ruth had sprouted fangs and horns and claws the second she heard my sister’s confession, and Ella hadn’t stood a chance. She’d apologized to all the Camerons, begged forgiveness, but she’d been put in jail anyway.

  I jerked my eyes open. I was trying to hold on to Gib with both hands, but they were bandaged like giant cotton swabs. His face blurred in my vision. Then I blinked and he snapped into focus. I saw the singed hair around his forehead, and the red splotches where he’d been stung by sparks. His shirt and jeans were filthy. He smelled like smoke. He smelled like the 250-year-old Cameron chapel my sister had burned.

  “Easy, easy,” he crooned. “You’re only having bad dreams. There’s nobody to fight with here. It’s only me. You’re in the family wing of the Hall. In the yellow guest bedroom you and Ella shared when you first came here.” I struggled to speak but my throat felt raw.

  Gib grasped my chin. “Slow, now,” he warned. “You’re only blistered, and you pulled a back muscle. Your throat’s sore because you inhaled a lot of smoke. But you’re going to be fine. And Aunt Olivia’s doing all right, too. She’s got a mild concussion and she’s bruised. But she’s doing fine.”

  I dragged one puffy, white-mitted hand over my eyes. The room was full of soft sunlight. “Ella,” I moaned. My throat felt like living sandpaper.

  “Ella’s fine, too,” he assured me. “When she woke up Isabel was with her. Izzy told her what happened. Ella got dressed and came over here. She’s been hovering over you all morning. Min made her come downstairs a few minutes ago to have a cup of tea.” He hesitated. “There’s something you need to know about your sister. Something not even you suspected.”

  Terrified, I tried to sit up but I was sunk in the deep feather mattress. Gib put a hand on my shoulder and held me down, which wasn’t hard to do. “Your sister,” he went on patiently, “has never had to take care of you before. It snapped her back to reality.”

  “What?”

  “She’s a hundred percent calm, cool, and collected. You’ve given her a purpose. You need her instead of her needing you, for once. It’s an amazing transformation. She changed overnight.”

  He had no idea. Stunned, I raised a bandaged hand and stroked Gib’s chest. Even with bandages I felt an odd, padded texture inside his shirt. I frowned up at him. He sighed. “Don’t look so worried. Are you afraid I’m wearing a corset?”

  “You … hurt?”

  “You were a hot tomato last night.” He smiled wearily as he unbuttoned his shirt from the bottom up, pulling the rumpled front tail from his trousers as he worked the buttons. When the shirt was open to his chest he parted the sides then carefully tugged up a thin white undershirt.

  I studied a large pink splotch at the center of his stomach, from his navel to the breastbone. He’d done this to himself when he smothered the fire on my hands. In the center was a six-inch white square of gauze and tape. Shiny ointment spread from under it, shimmering on his skin. Around the bandage was a singed stubble of dark body hair. At the top perimeter of the burned area his chest hair survived in thick glory. At the bottom was a nasty blister on his navel, exactly where the belly ring had been.

  “I got a little metal burn there,” he said. “You should have seen everybody’s face when I took off my shirt at the emergency room. They saw my jewelry.” I made a garbled sound of distress. “Don’t look at me that way,” he said quickly. “Don’t cry.”

  But I did cry—with large, choking sobs—over him, and Ella, and my secret. He gently cupped my face between his hands. Blinking hard, I got out one hoarse word: “Chapel.”

  He hesitated, downcast. “I won’t lie to you. It’s bad. But chestnut and stone can stand a fire and not collapse. The roof and the walls and the new floor—” He managed a slight smile “—are still solid. The interior can be rebuilt. Isabel’s already talking about restoring the murals herself. Hoover Bird called. He’ll send handwoven Cherokee rugs to replace the ones that burned.”

  “But … the music? The organ!”

  “The organ’s fine. Just singed. Listen to me. You saved it. You saved Olivia. And you’re alive and all right. Nothing else matters. The family is all right and the chapel still stands.”

  “Can you tell how it … caught fire?” My voice was a raspy whisper. I felt every muscle strain in my throat.

  “Not yet. I was hoping you could give me a clue. Aunt Olivia isn’t able to write any notes. She’s too sore. Bea woke up about midnight and realized she was gone. Olivia must have walked to the chapel.”

  “Not … possible. Her walking … that far.”

  “Don’t underestimate her, Nellie. When she’s got a mission she can astonish you.”

  “But why—”

  “She’s been odd, lately—you know that. Well, odder than usual, because of this peculiar thing between her and Bea. She decided to visit the chapel in the middle of the night. By God, there was no one around to drive her, so she walked.”

  “But—the fire?” I couldn’t meet his eyes. I felt guilty and deceitful, asking for answers I already knew.

  “My theory is that she managed to get one of the oil lamps down and light it. Then she fell and dropped the lamp on the rug. That’s my theory right now, at least. Thank God you were awake and smelled the smoke. You saved her life.” I almost choked. How could I let him praise me and put the blame on Olivia?

  “Oh, God,” I whispered.

  “Shhh.” His throat worked. He struggled for a few seconds. “We didn’t lose somebody we loved, this time. Not Olivia. Not you. I didn’t lose you.”

  I was nobody’s inspiration. I harbored a gutless secret. I tried to push my hands against Gib’s chest, but he carefully took me by the wrists a
nd guided my gauzy mittens atop the tufted chenille bedspread. My mother’s gift. “You rest now,” he whispered. “I love you. I’ll be right here beside you.”

  “Sorry. So sorry,” I whispered.

  “Shhh.” He went very still for a moment, then he bent down and kissed my forehead. If I didn’t trust him now, then nothing we’d been through together was valid.

  “I’ll talk,” I whispered. “I’ll talk to you, I promise.”

  “Hell, yes, you’ll be able to talk,” he said patiently. “Your throat’s fine.” He didn’t understand. He trusted me too much to suspect some hidden meaning.

  I drifted helplessly into another round of drugged and miserable nightmares, and more than once I felt or dreamed, when I was struggling, that Gib soothed me with his cool, scarred fingertips against my face.

  Bright and cheerful in a long white skirt and print blouse, Ella was bustling around me when I woke up again a few hours later. I stared at her incredulously as she straightened boxes of gauze and tape, wiped a tube of antibiotic ointment, and freshened the ice water in my bedside water glass.

  “Sis,” I whispered.

  “Oh!” She sprang to my side, held my head between her hands, and kissed my cheeks several times. Tears streamed down her face. “How are you?”

  “Shut the door. We have to talk.”

  Ella frowned but glided to the door and shut it, then came back and pulled an armchair close to the bed. She sat down and gazed at me gently. “Yes,” she said emphatically.

  I swallowed hard. “Yes, what?”

  “I’ve already slipped back over to the cottage and unpacked the car. No one noticed it before I did, I’m sure. Oh, Vee, I know you thought it was best for me to go elsewhere, but this really is our home.”

  I nearly cried. She’d unpacked the car but hadn’t found my sentimental good-bye letter. That meant someone else had it. “What happened to you last night?”

  “Last night?”

  “The fire. Do you remember?”

  “I only know what you told Gib. You smelled smoke, you went to the chapel, you saw Olivia on the floor—”

  “You never woke up even once at the cottage? I mean, you didn’t know what happened at the chapel until today?”

  She nodded but looked at me with bewilderment. Slowly a thought dawned, her mouth popped open, and she clasped her chest. “Do you think I’d lie in bed and let other people take care of you when you were hurt? I don’t care how sick I was, if anyone had gotten me awake during the night I’d have insisted on going wherever you were!”

  “No, no, no, I’m not … accusing you.” My head swam. “I just wanted to make sure you were being honest about feeling better. That you really did sleep all night.”

  “Why? Have I been behaving oddly in some way?”

  To say the least. “Distracted.”

  She smiled pensively. “It’s this.” She held up her left hand. “I’ve misplaced my wedding ring.”

  I stared at her hand. “When?”

  “I must have dropped it in the cottage last night when I was sick. I wasn’t wearing it when I woke up this morning. I’ve lost a little weight. I think it just slipped off.”

  “Go look for it. Go ahead. I’m fine. Gib will be back any minute to sit with me. You go to the cottage and hunt for that ring.”

  “Oh, Sis, you’re so sweet.”

  There was a knock at the door. She hurried over and opened it. Carter stood there. He smiled at her and gazed at me solemnly. “Mind if I come in?” he asked. I was speechless. Ella took him by one hand and led him to the foot of the bed. Her eyes were glowing. “He came back,” she said simply. “He came back to me.”

  Carter put his arm around her. “I got to Uncle’s house and couldn’t stand my own company. I turned around this morning and headed back to Tennessee. When I walked into the Hall and Ellie looked at me like I was covered in gold, that was all it took. I never figured that all she needed to know was that I’d stand by her no matter what.”

  “Vee’s worried about my wedding ring,” Ella whispered to him.

  He shook his head. “I can buy Ellie a thousand rings. All I care about is that she trusts me with her whole heart now.”

  “Find the ring,” I urged hoarsely.

  Ella sighed. “Carter’s looked for it already. I’ve cried and worried all I intend to. We can get another ring.” She hesitated, looking at him sadly. “And we can try to have another baby, when we’re ready.”

  He kissed her. “We’ll have us a whole bunch of babies. I guarantee it.”

  Ella came over and fussed with my bed covers. “You rest now. I’ll go to the kitchen and bring back some fresh muffins FeeMolly made just for you.” She kissed my forehead again then walked out of the room. Carter gave me a thumbs-up and followed her.

  I lay there in a cold sweat. For the first time in years I prayed to every saint I still believed in. I’ll pay for Pop’s sins in a thousand burning hells if you’ll please just not let anyone learn the truth.

  • • •

  I stared at the group headed my way. Isabel, Min, and Ruth. They’d all come to visit me. Gib waved them into the bedroom and Ella smiled.

  “I want to thank you,” Isabel announced.

  “Now look, I didn’t do anything to deserve all this—” My voice faded as little fireflies of dizzy light spun in my vision. Twinges erupted in every muscle and crispy nerve ending in my body. I gasped for air. Ella urged, “Breathe, breathe,” until I nodded that I was okay.

  “Oh, hell, don’t be so damned modest,” Ruth growled. “You kept Aunt Olly from roasting and you saved the chapel from worse damage by throwing the lamps outside. We’re going to bronze you and put you on a pedestal.”

  “Absolutely,” Isabel chimed. She dropped into a chair. “I’ve felt awfully sorry for myself for a long time,” she said. “Simon was killed, and Gib was hurt so badly, and in the middle of it all I discovered my husband was the woman-chasing loser I’d always known he was, deep down. So I left him, and here I was, a grown woman living at home again, with a little boy to raise, divorced, and—” She halted, her throat working. “It’s awfully easy to think, woe is me. But you’ve shown me how much courage really matters. Unselfish courage. I will not dwell on unhappiness anymore. Thank you.”

  Min stood as straight as a symphony conductor with her bony, hard-worked hands clasped in front of khaki trousers. “My husband always knew better than to value buildings over people,” Min said. “He loved the chapel but he’d rejoice today because no one was hurt. Vee, my husband believed we receive what we give. You gave us selfless loyalty. I intend to draw from your example. Thank you for reminding me that miracles still happen.”

  “Vee’s got to get some rest now,” Ella announced in a worried voice. “She’s very pale.”

  “No more heroics for now, Nellie,” Gib said gently.

  “I love all of you,” I said.

  When I woke up again the light was dim and I smelled the concrete scent of winter rain. The room was shadowy except for the lemon glow from a lamp covered in a fringed, yellow-flowery shade. My hands stung like the mother of all sunburns, and even the slightest movement of my head made a tourniquet of nerves tighten down the right side of my spine. I lay on my back, staring up at the bed’s yellow canopy. I finally craned my head enough to find the clock on the room’s fireplace mantel. It was late afternoon.

  Even turning my head an inch made me feel as if someone were cracking my spine. I spent several seconds blinking and taking deep breaths to get myself under control, trying to focus. From the corner of one eye I saw rain trickling down a window’s wavy, oversized antique panes. I heard the sighs of the Hall—heavy oak floors creaking, odds and ends of activity, doors shutting—and then, ominously, a sound that could only be the give-and-take of many voices downstairs.

  I got out of bed, a maneuver that left me sweaty, sick to my stomach, and dizzy. I crept to the room’s open door and then down the long hall, wobbling, inching along, my hands
twitching painfully inside the gauze mitts, my back muscles cramping. I glimpsed myself in a gilt-framed mirror over a side table cluttered with two dozen Cameron family snapshots in a hodgepodge of picture frames.

  It was as if I’d been added to the Cameron family gallery, and I wasn’t a noble accessory. I was dressed in a plaid, long-sleeved, floor-length flannel gown I suspected was one of Min’s. My face was speckled with red marks. My eyebrows and eyelashes were singed. I eased down the staircase and made my way to the den. The voices grew louder, and took form.

  “The early evidence,” someone said, “supports a clear case of malicious arson. Mr. Nolan here is a consultant for the state fire marshal’s office.” The snide tone, the patronizing inflections. Emory. Emory was there. “I asked him to check out the chapel discreetly because he can make precisely this kind of quick analysis. And he absolutely believes the fire couldn’t have been accidental.”

  “Aunt Olivia did not set the fire with any deliberate or malicious goal in mind,” I heard Gib say. “She lit a lamp and dropped it. I don’t know why she got the candles out. I don’t know how or why she hid the burned hymn books and the rug in the woods. But there’s no doubt in my mind that she didn’t mean to set a fire.”

  “Whatever happened last night was entirely unintentional,” Min added. “Aunt Olivia’s been upset about Bea’s condition. She’s not herself.”

  “Not herself?” Emory’s voice, again. “Are we talking about the same woman I’ve known all my life? The fire was an accident? Was it an accident when she poisoned her husband fifty years ago?”

  “That’s an insulting analogy,” Ruth said.

  “Let’s consider a different scenario then. The only other person involved. Venus.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Ella’s voice was a soft shriek.