At first I was scared and worried that Norrie was never coming home. Jane said, “Of course she’s coming home,” but a flicker of doubt clouded her face. Ever since Norrie met Robbie she’s been a different person. We don’t quite know her. She’s always been the most sensible and responsible girl in the family, and here she was running away with a man who is seven whole years older than she is, leaving our beloved Daddy-o in the middle of her debutante ball, and infuriating everyone else, most of all, you.
Love made Norrie go crazy. I hope it will never happen to me.
THIRTEEN
WHEN NORRIE CAME HOME ON CHRISTMAS EVE, SHE WAS LOADED down with glamorous New York presents for everyone. Now she really is a changed person. So grown up, like a bride just back from her honeymoon. I’m happy to see her again but I miss the old Norrie.
Soon I forgot about that because St. John and Sully came home too and the house was full for Christmas, just like it used to be. There was lots of activity and excitement but there was a pall over the house too. Wallace had only been dead for a month and no one seemed to miss him except for me and you, Almighty. You haven’t said you miss him but I know you do. I could tell when you and Buffalo Bill stopped by our house the day after the Cotillon. You kept Bill on your lap, shielding him from Takey’s squirt gun. I wished you a Merry Christmas and kissed you on the cheek, but you croaked, “What’s so merry about it?”
That wasn’t like you.
I waited to see if you’d look at me or say something else or dismiss me. But you just stared grimly at the fire. That’s when I knew you missed Wallace—and when I knew for sure you hadn’t forgiven me.
I was desperate to find a way to make everything better. I thought about the story of The Winter’s Tale. If only I could make a statue of Wallace and touch it with magic to bring him back to life. I knew I couldn’t do it for real. But maybe I could show you how badly I wished I could.
And that’s when I hatched my Christmas Eve plan.
I chopped lines from the play to make it as short and simple as I could, and worked with Takey on his part. Mostly he just had to stand still like a statue. I gave him one other stage direction—it was the most important thing he had to remember. I didn’t care if he forgot his lines, as long as he remembered to make that one gesture.
After all the jolly holiday tunes and jokes, we took the stage to play the last scene from The Winter’s Tale—the scene when the statue of Hermione comes to life. Did you like the wig I wore as the guilty King Leontes? I spray-painted that white skunk stripe on it myself.
Takey made a beautiful statue of Queen Hermione—it’s not easy for him to stand so still. When Jane cast her spell over him it really felt like magic. Takey slowly moved his head, then his arms. It was a miracle—the statue came to life. Then Takey touched his first two fingers to his forehead in a familiar salute. Just like Wallace used to do.
That was my special stage direction.
I felt a lump in my throat. I touched Takey’s baby skin and could barely speak my lines: “O, she’s warm! If this be magic, let it be an art lawful as eating.”
I begged pardon for my crimes, and Takey forgave me.
The jolly Christmas audience was spellbound and silent. I don’t know what effect the scene had on you. I was too scared to look.
But the next day I got my answer. You told us that one of us has sinned against you. I know I am that person.
My little play didn’t move you to forgive me. I hope this confession will.
Sassy
NEW YEAR’S DAY
ON DECEMBER 31, NORRIE, JANE, AND SASSY BROUGHT THEIR confessions to their grandmother. They had to wait until morning to find out what effect they would have on her, if any.
Instead of going out to New Year’s Eve parties, they celebrated the New Year at home. Ginger and Daddy-o went out, but all the children, even St. John and Sully, stayed at home and played games—charades and Scrabble and Candy Land and Operation—until midnight. When the clock struck twelve, they blew horns and sprayed each other with Takey’s arsenal of squirt guns and laughed and kissed each other, each child grateful and happy to be one of six Sullivans. It had started to snow, so they went outside and jumped and yelled and played in the yard like puppies. In the distance, fireworks burst in the sky as the city marked the passing of time with blasts and booms and cheers.
The next morning, they woke up to Daddy-o’s traditional New Year’s Day pancake breakfast, with bacon and lots of coffee and cocoa and orange juice. Ginger even made her specialty, sliced grapefruit, which she usually reserved for Christmas.
At noon they all bundled up for the walk to Almighty’s house. Six inches of snow had fallen, and the day was bitter cold. The snow squeaked under their boots like Styrofoam. But they all agreed it was a good day for a walk.
They paraded up the long drive to Gilded Elms and entered the house through the kitchen. Almighty was waiting for them in the library, with Buffalo Bill in her arms.
The first thing everyone noticed about Almighty was the change. Her hair had turned white overnight. It had been iron gray for as long as the children could remember, iron gray with one white stripe over her left eye. But now that white stripe had spread over her whole head, which was as snowy as the lawn outside. She looked like a different person. Older, and more beautiful.
She looked, Sassy thought, a bit like Hermione, the statue queen from The Winter’s Tale.
“Happy New Year to you all,” Almighty said. “This is truly the beginning of a new era in the Sullivan family. I have read the confessions submitted to me with great interest.”
She paused while Bernice brought in a tea tray and set it on the table. Everyone settled into chairs around the library. Almighty remained standing. She put Buffalo Bill down and he curled up at her feet.
“I would like to read to you the confession that has sealed your fate.” Almighty held a folder in front of her and put on her glasses. She stared at the paper in the folder for a tense moment while all the Sullivans held their breath.
She began to read.
Dear Almighty,
I squirted Buffalo Bill with water.
I pulled his tail.
I fed him broccoli which made him sick.
I ate his dog biscuits. They taste like nothing.
It’s because of me that you think dogs need rain ponchos.
I’m sorry.
—Takey
The silence in the room was not a comfortable one.
“That’s it?” Jane asked. “That’s the confession you were looking for?”
“Takey was the sinner.” Ginger began to laugh. “You’re serious. All this fuss was over Takey teasing your dog?”
“Poor Bill has suffered terribly at his hands.” Almighty took the dog in her arms and drew herself up tall. “I will not be mocked. Bill is one of God’s creatures and deserves respect like anyone else.”
“Certainly he does,” Daddy-o said. “But Takey is a six-year-old boy. To hold the future of an entire family hostage over his behavior—”
Almighty flashed him a stony glare that stopped him cold.
“I have received the confession I was looking for, and I will reinstate you in my will. Your trust funds will go on as before, and at my death you will each receive an enormous sum of money. Does that satisfy all of you?”
Dead silence.
“I thought it would. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. Thank you, girls, for your testimonies—they were very enlightening.”
The three sisters, sitting side by side, took each other by the hand. They had poured their hearts into those confessions, and now Almighty dismissed them as so much “enlightening testimony”?
“Happy New Year to one and all. I’ll see you girls at tea on Tuesday. Good-bye.”
The Sullivans grumbled as they put on their coats for the long walk home. “Thank God that’s over,” Daddy-o said.
“How ridiculous,” Ginger added.
Takey took Ginger’s hand. “Did
I win?”
“Yes, darling. Congratulations.”
The incident was bizarre and extremely annoying, but the final result was what they wanted: They had their money.
On her way out, Norrie reached into her coat pocket for her gloves and found a sealed envelope, on which was written To Norris, Jane, and Saskia in Almighty’s familiar, spidery handwriting. In spite of burning curiosity, Norrie put it back in her pocket to save for the privacy of the Tower Room.
When they got home, the three girls gathered in the Tower to read the letter.
Gilded Elms
January 1
My Dearest Norrie, Jane, and Sassy,
I have been selfish and blind. I have been manipulative. I have been imperious. I confess it.
I have been made crazy by love. I have feuded with my friends and rebelled against my family. I have struggled with fate and identity, with life and death. I have lied, and I have hurt people. I confess all this to you.
My dear granddaughters, I have been just like you. And yet, when I saw your behavior, it outraged me.
But there is one thing I have yet to do: I have not defied death. That is why, Sassy, you were the Sullivan who outraged me the most.
Jane was right: Part of me hoped Norrie would break Brooks’s heart. Part of me hoped Jane would tell the world all about it, whatever the cost to my dignity.
But I never expected one of you to be so bold as to believe you were beyond the laws of nature. That boldness shocked me, especially in a sweet, loving girl such as you, Sassy.
However…in reading your confessions, all three of them, I understood how truly and deeply you are my descendants. Every action of my life has led to you and your actions—even Sassy’s.
And so, my dear Sassy, I forgive you. I forgive all of you. I see how you’ve suffered, and how you’ve repented. And I realize now that in spite of my moniker I do not have the power to judge you. I will leave that to the real Almighty.
Go forth and live your lives as you were meant to, and as you wish.
With great love, your grandmother,
A. Louisa Beckendorf
P.S. Don’t worry about this so-called brain tumor. The doctors say I’ll live forever. I’m unkillable!
“Hmph,” Norrie said. “What a fascinating letter.”
“Leave it to Almighty to make our lives all about her,” Jane said. “But that’s Almighty for you.”
“She’s still a pain,” Norrie said. “But now I feel really related to her.”
“Because we have a secret together,” Sassy said. “The four of us.”
They paused to reread the letter and think about its meaning.
“So that’s it,” Norrie said. “Everything can go on just as it was.”
Except that it couldn’t. And the Sullivan sisters knew it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Three books were particularly helpful to me in writing this novel:
Joan of Arc: A Life by Mary Gordon (2000, Penguin Books),
The Winter’s Tale by William Shakespeare,
and especially
The Amiable Baltimoreans by Francis F. Beirne
(1951, The Johns Hopkins University Press).
Love and heartfelt thanks to:
SCHOLASTIC:
Becky Amsel, Phil Falco, Adrienne Maria Vrettos
THE GERNERT COMPANY:
Courtney Gatewood and Allison Cohen
TIGER BEAT:
Libba Bray, Dan Ehrenhaft, and Barnabas Miller
RUFFIAN:
Biz Mitchell, Darcey Steinke, Rene Steinke, and Hawes Bostic
LUNCH BUDDIES:
Elise Broach and Bennett Madison
FAMILY:
Will Standiford, Betty Standiford, Kathleen Standiford,
John Standiford, Jim Standiford, and Karen Yasinsky
WONDERFULNESS BEYOND CATEGORY:
Gregory Wilson
Special thanks to Nancy Williams for providing the spark of an idea (the “GlamFam”) which led to this book. In true Baltimore fashion, we’ve been friends since we met in kindergarten at age four.
And extra-special thanks to my editor, David Levithan, and my agent, Sarah Burnes. I’m grateful for them every day.
IN MEMORY OF LILLIAN JAMESON
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NATALIE STANDIFORD was born and raised in Maryland, with two brothers and one sister, which is not as many as the Sullivans but still enough to make mischief. Her first novel, How to Say Goodbye in Robot, was named a best book of the year by Kirkus Reviews. She lives in New York City and can be found on the Web at www.nataliestandiford.com.
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2010 by Natalie Standiford
Cover art © 2010 by Michael Frost
Cover design by Phil Falco
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available
First edition, September 2010
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E-ISBN 978-0-545-32873-9
Natalie Standiford, Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters
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