A Circle of Time (13 page)

Allison, who had witnessed the scene in a paralysis of fear, felt electric with rage. She sprinted to Joshua's side and knelt beside him, Tere close at her heels.

“Leave him alone!” Allison screamed, wrapping her arms around Joshua's shoulders. “Is hurting people the only thing you know?”

Sadie gave a bitter laugh. “I knew you'd come crawling out sooner or later. Did you really expect me not to come looking for you?” With lightning speed, Sadie yanked Allison up by her hair. “Now you're coming back with me. And don't ever try anything like this again.”

Sadie began to drag Allison along the side of the house. With the long hair loose around her face, Allison couldn't see what was happening. She stumbled and fell to her knees, but the searing pain in her scalp continued as the woman's grip remained fast.

Behind her, Lolita and the maids screamed in Spanish, and Tere and Joshua called out for Sadie to let Allison go. Allison heard their footsteps as they ran to her side.

“Sadie, let the girl go!” Tere took a firm hold of Sadie's arm with one hand and of Allison's hair with the other. “Release her this moment, or I shall have you thrown off this estate.”

Sadie let go as though she were a naughty child dropping a forbidden object. “I have a right to raise my girl as I see fit.”

Joshua gently lifted Allison to her feet, holding her close.

“You have no right to abuse her,” said Tere. “Becky has decided to come work for me and live here at the house.”

Sadie gawked. “She can't ... you can't ... will she git paid?”

“Of course!” Tere's eyes flashed. “Becky shall be well compensated, and she will be a valued member of the household.”

“But what about me? My eyesight ain't so good no more. Who'll help me with the sewing? I've got to earn a living, too.”

“You should have thought about that before treating her so shamefully. Now leave the premises this instant.”

Sadie's mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. “You fancy Spaniards with your hoity-toity ways, thinkin' you're all better'n anybody else. Just like that crazy sister of yourn, always lordin' it over me and treatin' me like dirt. My stitches ain't fine enough, the buttons are crooked, do it over, do it over ... Well, I'll leave now, but don't think I won't be back—and I'll bring the law with me. Becky is still a child.”

“That would be perfect, Sadie,” Tere replied. “It will save me the trouble of sending for the sheriff, myself. He may not be able to stop you from taking Becky back with you, but he will be quite interested in certain items of property that have mysteriously disappeared from the house at times when you've brought by your sewing.”

Sadie's face paled. “You cain't prove—”

Tere's chin shot up. “Try me.”

Sadie Thompson's gaze drifted from Tere to Lolita and the maids, then to Joshua, and finally to Allison, her scowl intensifying. “I'll get you for this—all of you.” Then she turned and stomped toward the front of the house.

“Sadie,” Tere called before she slipped from view. The woman turned. “I will thank you never again to set foot on this property without an invitation.”

Before she disappeared around the corner, Sadie shot a glance at Allison. The look of sheer hatred hit Allison in the stomach like a fist.

When Allison returned to her room, she found two heavy cotton dresses—one emerald-green and the other ruby-red—lying on the bed. A pair of barely worn black button-up shoes awaited her on the rug. The dresses were of the style of the time, long sleeves and long skirt
(Heaven forbid any skin should show!),
and they were obviously of good quality.

Under the dresses, she found a cotton slip, a camisole, a corset, and two pairs of long stockings. Making a face, she hid the corset under the bed, then she pulled on a pair of stockings and tried on the shoes. They felt a bit tight. Allison buttoned the shoes with an instrument she recognized as a buttonhook. She'd seen one at a museum.

Then she slipped into the emerald-green dress. She felt for the zipper in the back and groaned. Buttons! Dozens of tiny little buttons. What a pain!

When she finished, she spun around, feeling as though she were dressed for a costume ball. Eager to see herself, she ran to the standing mirror. She gasped. Her knees turned to rubber. She had to grasp the mirror stand to keep from collapsing.

The reality of her predicament shook her with the force of an earthquake. The girl who gazed back at her from the mirror was not the perky brunette she expected to see, but a pale, thin girl with blond waves cascading down her shoulders. Her large eyes were misty green, and there was something hauntingly familiar about her face.

 

“Bequita,” exclaimed Tere when she returned, “how lovely you look. The green of the dress brings out your eyes.”

Allison fought off a little shudder at the memory of the misty green eyes that had gazed back at her in place of her own. “It was very kind of you to loan me these clothes.”

Tere waved away Allison's words with the flick of her hand. “Nonsense. I'm glad you can make good use of them. Come,” she said, leading Allison along a wide hallway. “Now you must meet my sister, Isa.”

They stopped at a wrought-iron gate. “This is the west wing. Papa keeps it locked so Isa will not go wandering.”

At the look of surprise on Allison's face, she added, “For her own protection. I know it sounds cruel, but ... well, wait until you get to know her before you judge us too harshly.”

“Oh, please—I didn't mean to question your judgment. It's just that—well, you seem so fond of your sister.”

Tere unlocked the gate and led Allison inside, relocking the gate behind her. The metallic
clang
of the closing door reverberated through the long hallway.

“I love my sister dearly. And I miss who she was and what she might have been. I've needed a young woman around all these years—someone with whom I could share my hopes and dreams. That is why I visit Magda so often. But Isa...” Tere's voice trailed off as she shook her head sadly.

“Is she dangerous?”

“Only to herself,” Tere replied cryptically. Then seeming to realize Allison's true meaning, she said, “Do not worry, Becky, Isa is not to be feared, only pitied.”

When they turned the corner, Allison thought she heard a soft hum. As they drew nearer, she realized it was the sound of someone humming a sad melody. At the end of the corridor, a different nurse, equally as stiff and starched as Doña Ana's nurse, sat on a wooden chair, crocheting what appeared to be fine white lace along the edges of a delicate linen doily.

“Socorro,” said Tere, marching up to the nurse, “how is my sister, today?”

The nurse dropped her crocheted doily onto the table beside her and stood.
“Un poquito mejor, señorita.”
Then glancing at Becky, she translated. “A little better.”

“Bien,”
Tere said with a satisfied nod. “Socorro, this is Becky Lee Thompson. She will be helping us care for Isa and Mamá. It will be a great comfort to me to know that Becky is here to help you when I go away next week.”

“Next week?” said Allison, alarmed by the news. “I will be here alone?”

Tere took Allison's arm and led her away from the nurse. “Do not worry so, Becky. You will be fine. I need to do my spring shopping in San Francisco.”

Allison's heart jumped to her throat. “San Francisco?” she squeaked.

Tere's brow furrowed. “Why are you so upset, Becky? I will only be gone one week.”

“Will you be back before the eighteenth?”

“Why, I believe so. Unless I'm detained—”

“No! Please, please come back before the eighteenth.”

Tere glanced at Socorro, who quickly looked away. “We shall talk about this later, Becky. Come, I need you to meet Isa now.”

Tere led Allison across the hall and opened the heavy door. The sound of clear, soft singing drifted out. Inside a suite similar to Tere's, a slender woman spun around, dancing with an imaginary partner.

Isa's long silk gown swept the floor in time to the ballad she sang. Golden-red curls spilled down her back in a furious tumble and leaped from the sides of her head like tongues of flame.

In the midst of a spin, Isa threw back her head and laughed—it was a high-pitched sound with a nervous undertone that grated Allison's nerves as if she'd run fingernails across a chalkboard. “José, José,
cuánto te amo.
” She giggled and spun in a tighter and tighter circle, her hair flying wildly. “I will never love another, Joselito. Never let me go. Spin me, spin me, spin me!”

Isa collapsed on the floor, laughing her nerve-grating laugh.

“
Ay
, Isa, Isa!” Tere ran to her sister and sat her up. “You must be careful. You could hurt yourself.”

“I was dancing with José, Tere. José would never let me be harmed. We were having such a delightful time. Let me see him again. José? José, where are you?” Isa's hazel eyes opened wide; her gaze darted erratically about the room. “José! Come back, José!”

“Shhhh, Isa,” whispered Tere. “José had to go. You need to rest, so he left you to rest.”

“But he will be back?” Isa peered over Tere's shoulder, searching the room. “He must come back. I need him.”

“Come, Isa, let me put you in bed. Becky, help me lift her.”

Together, they half carried, half dragged the struggling woman to the bed. It was then that Allison noticed the bed was stripped of linens.

Allison glanced around the room. It was bare of everything but heavy furniture. No vases. No statuettes of the Virgin or of saints. No candles or rugs or pillows. Even the drapes were missing from the French doors. The large suite held only a four-poster bed, one nightstand, a hard sofa, and two heavy wooden chairs.

“Tere, Tere, tell me, promise me José will be back.” Isa's voice quivered, and her hands flew near her face like frightened birds.

“José wants you to rest now, Isa. That is all you should think about. You want to make him happy, don't you?”

Isa nodded nervously and giggled. “He loves me. José wants to take care of me. He will be back soon, won't he, Tere? Then he will take me to Spain, and we shall send for Magda. And you, Tere. Would you like to come with us? We will be far, far away from here. Far from this detestable estate and far from Papa.”

“
Duérmete,
Isa.” Tere pushed Isa back onto the bare mattress. “Lie back and sleep. Shhhh, sleep.”

Tere stroked her sister's brow, and Isa closed her eyes. “You are a good sister, Tere. Such a good—” Isa's eyes snapped open. She sat up. “Papa! You must not say anything to Papa. He will spoil everything. Why does Papa hate José so? José is kind and smart and brave. And he loves me. Papa should be proud to have him as a son-in-law.”

“Shhhh, Isa.” Tere tried to pull her sister back down, but Isa resisted. “How would you like some of Magda's medicine? It will help you sleep.”

“No, I cannot sleep. I must stay awake. José is coming to take me away. I must remain alert or Papa will spoil—”

“Isa, listen to me. José will not come tonight. He wants you to rest, remember?”

“Rest?” Isa nodded, lying back and closing her eyes. “José wants me to rest.”

“Becky,” Tere whispered. “Come here and sit beside her. Stroke her forehead while I get the medicine ready.”

Allison obeyed. As she stroked Isa's brow and hair, she noticed the deep lines of sorrow that marred the once-perfect face. Strands of silver were beginning to show around the woman's temples, blending with the red-gold curls. Softly, Isa began to hum the haunting tune Allison had heard earlier.

“Do you hear a baby cry?” Isa whispered, her eyes still closed.

Allison jumped, startled by the unexpected words. Isa opened her eyes and looked up at Allison. Their eyes locked.

Isa lifted her hand and touched a strand of Allison's golden hair. Then she stroked Allison's cheek with a trembling finger. The tiny puckers between her eyebrows relaxed.

Isa's eyes filled with hope. “Have you seen my baby?”

 

“Why are there no linens in Isa's room?” Allison asked Tere as they walked back to Allison's room. “And other things are missing—personal things.”

Tere gave Allison a tight smile. “You are very observant, Bequita. My sister”—Tere paused, and a look of deep sadness crossed her face—“Isa poses a constant threat to herself. You saw how she was when we entered her room. Wild and uncontrollable. And this was one of her better days. She cannot be trusted alone.”

“I don't understand. How would linens and a few trinkets around the room harm her?”

“
Ay,
Bequita, you are so innocent. Perhaps I should not expose you to such misery at your age. But it seemed you needed my help as much as I need yours.”

In response to Tere's words, the hair on Allison's neck and arms rose as if a cold wind had passed through her. Becky's words filled her brain:
I helped you, now you help me.

“Would you prefer not to help with Isa?” Tere studied Allison.

Allison recalled the tragic Isa and how kind Tere had already been to her. “No, I'd like to help with Isa. I don't mind.”

Tere let out a sigh of relief. “I am glad.
Gracias,
Bequita. But there will be times—much more difficult times than today. Isa becomes despondent. She cries and begs to die. She has tried to harm herself several times. Once she broke a vase and cut her arm. Another time she pretended to be asleep and later tied the night nurse with the linens from her bed. Then”—Tere gazed down the hall—“she took the ropes from the drapes, and, if Papá had not entered at that very moment, she would be dead.”

Allison shuddered at the thought. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”