I rushed across the cabin. I didn’t need anything, I had a whole room of things for Nan, but I rattled the drawers anyway and took out a shirt and underwear. The window was partly open, clearly the source of the draft we’d felt, so I shut it.
Virgil walked the few steps with me to the door, with Karen behind. I turned to him. This couldn’t be helped. Somehow I turned straight into his arms—I think he was ready to embrace me? I don’t want to make anything up, not anymore.
When I pulled back I saw he was weeping. He made no sound doing so. But his cheeks were wet and droplets of water fell onto his shirt. On another day I would have felt exalted being in the presence of so much feeling, and I’d have gloried in my effect on him, but not today. He was happy, and not because of me. An instrument can be pleasing and appreciated, but it doesn’t arouse happiness. I was an instrument, the rake that had flushed the snake from the grass. The net that had pulled the frozen man from the sea. It was time for me to be shut up in a supply closet.
Karen swooped in and squeezed me goodbye. “Thank you, dear benefactor,” she said.
I cannot even describe what these words did to me. I don’t think I can ever look at the two of them again. Please, Lord, let me hate them as I should.
Star and I dragged home. The snow still came in thick, fat flakes, wet and heavy, and we had to plow our legs ahead. For once I couldn’t enjoy the dog being so oblivious to everything but the present, I was beyond enjoyment of anything.
I sat in my room in a daze until Nan came in. Then I dragged myself out of my stupor and made hot chocolate for her and Robert and piled a plate of cookies high. Their eyes widened at the bounty, and they exchanged glances that warned each other not to mention my mistake. We settled in the glass room, a perfect fishbowl in the purple afternoon.
“Is Fur coming for dinner?” Nan asked. She had the whole plate of cookies on her lap. I left it; what difference did it make?
“No. You’re going to stay here, with me.”
“But I want to see him.”
“You will, tomorrow.”
“Where is Karen?” Robert asked.
Was he reading my distress? I had no doubt he could. “Why do you ask?”
“Her car is in the driveway.”
Of course. “She’s visiting Virgil.”
Nan shifted the plate to the table and moved to the edge of her seat. “Let’s go see them.”
“No!” I saw an image of what they might be doing, a brief flash. “No, we can’t. They’re busy.”
She tipped her head, just the way her father did. “Doing what?” She picked up another cookie and bit it, curious, not suspicious.
“They’re working on a project.”
“What is it?” Robert asked.
“If you must know, they’re planning a surprise for you, Nan.”
It was the only thing I could think to say. She instantly displayed a huge smile and clapped her hands. “When can we see it?”
She made a gesture toward Robert. She always included him.
“Tomorrow. You’ll find out what it is tomorrow.”
“We have school,” Robert said.
“School might be canceled with this snow. If not, after school. Now, you two eat your cookies.”
I was too beleaguered to set limits, and soon they were in a sugar sleep, the shadows of their lashes on their reddened cheeks long as spider legs. Later I sent Robert home and fed Nan a drowsy dinner, read to her, and put her in her—your—bed, with Star.
And here I am. Going insane. I can’t believe it. Should I believe it? Maybe it was a dream, and I’m the one who ate too many cookies and fell asleep by the fire. Maybe I was only working all along and this was a fictional invention.
Elspeth, if you could see the way he looks at me with his eyes shining—that can’t be anything but love, can it? I see only love on his face, nothing else.
Why come over so often and ask me for so much help if it weren’t to secure a future for us? Am I only a handmaiden to his work? Does he believe I gave and gave because I am good and wanted nothing for myself? I wanted everything for myself. I am not you, not selfless. I want. I want Nan officially. And maybe another; I still bleed; I’m not too old. I have thought of it. The person he and I might make together. Why shouldn’t I? The hundreds of hours I spent by sickbeds—hasn’t that earned me a second chance? I saw what he wanted to be, but that he couldn’t do it by himself. He needed help. I helped. I helped.
And I ended up with his gratitude. Cold comfort.
CHAPTER 37 Agnes, Leeward Cottage, April 1962
Dear Elspeth,
My correspondence with you began coincidentally with the day I first made contact with the Reeds. It was the first time I called you back. I’d considered it before; I missed you so much. But I didn’t want to tell you about our parents’ illnesses and deaths. If you’d been here, you’d have cared for them to the point of your own exhaustion, and I’d have been furious watching you. I was able to do it partly because I was grateful you were spared it. I didn’t want to call out to you then for fear I’d disturb your rest—even though I don’t believe in any of that. Yet believing in things and acting on them aren’t the same.
I told you everything I needed to say about the Reeds. I have felt heard by you, buoyed by you. I have believed the events were hopeful enough not to disturb you, either, or startle you from your place of peace. I have showed you who I became in the wake of so much death. Life without Father—that could be the subtitle of this whole account.
But now I have to write something so horrible I don’t want you to know it. But I must confess to you, sister, who accepted me no matter what. I don’t expect that now. I have been insane with grief, walking all over the frozen countryside. Now I am so tired I can’t move. I want to die. I want to be with you. Maybe after I tell you, you will find a way to come get me.
When I woke up the next morning after that terrible night of sorrow, I looked out the window to see massive drifts of snow and a cold white world. It was early, and the light had not come up, yet as my eyes adjusted I could see that there was no smoke coming from Virgil’s chimney. I was used in the mornings to seeing smoke rising there when I got up—he rose even earlier than I did. That had become one of the pleasures of my day, and to think it had been replaced by a morning in bed with Karen.
Well. It was morning, and daylight had come to staunch the sorrows of the night.
Mrs. C. hadn’t arrived yet. The snow was deep enough that I was certain it would be a snow day, so I let Nan sleep.
I found Star in the hall and I led him downstairs to go out. The back door opened without much trouble; the wind had blown the snow in the other direction. But he couldn’t get down the thick steps, and I put on my boots and went out with a broom to help him. I made tea and came back up. I had an odd feeling when I reached the second floor. As if I were alone. As if no other soul were present in the house. I’d come to know this feeling well, as I was so often alone. My soul expanded into every corner, finding no other to bump against. This often gave me an exalted feeling, and sometimes I got up and danced, the universe as my partner. Such a stupid, spinster thing to do—but I hadn’t thought of myself as a spinster before the lunch with Virgil and Karen.