Fallen Beauty (12 page)

LAURA

A stranger arrived at the rectory late last night.

He came on the late-night train from New York City, carrying a military duffel bag, a large leather satchel, and some kind of case. I watched him walk from under the lights of the station to the rectory, where he knocked on the door. Strangers did not often stay in town, and if they visited, they were usually picked up by Eugen Boissevain and hauled up the mountain to Steepletop. I turned out the electric light I used to see my needlework, and peered outside. The clock in the square showed eleven o’clock, but a light burned upstairs, where Father Ash resided.

Much to my interest, Father Ash soon opened the door and greeted the man. I saw that Father wore only his undershirt and pants, but no shoes. It was disconcerting to see him so casual, so human. He embraced the man with a warm hug of old friendship, of men who share a past and feel great affection for each other. Father Ash bent down to retrieve the duffel bag and closed the door.

I’d never known Father Ash to have a friend. He was always so alone in spite of being so often surrounded by people. I couldn’t imagine how he bore his existence. He’d never spoken much of his past, so I didn’t know a great deal about it, only that he had spent part of the Great War in Italy with the Red Cross. He must have many stories of loss of which I couldn’t conceive.

The light in the room next to Father Ash’s went on and the silhouette of his visitor moved to the window. He placed his hands on the sill, slumped his shoulders, and turned his head toward the center of town, where a rotten, half-dead maple’s turning leaves shivered in the night breeze. The tree stood alone in a large circular area of grass at the roundabout in the middle of Main Street. The side streets reached out from the center like a mandala, or toward it like many streams draining into a pool.

When I looked back at the stranger’s room, the light went out, but the window stayed open to the chilly night. I crossed myself and was compelled to think a little prayer for him. I sensed that he was lonely, though I didn’t know why. That must be the way God sees us. We think we are alone, but He watches from the shadows, hoping the best for us.

•   •   •

G
race was at my bedside early the next morning, waking me to tell me about the commotion on the street. Coffin’s Coal & Wood truck idled out near the circle, where a group of workers began to chop down the maple tree with an audience of townspeople. I looked at the clock on the bureau and was horrified to see that I had slept until eight o’clock.

I arose from bed, pulled on my robe, and allowed Grace to crawl into my lap on the chair by the window to watch the action. Her wild curls tickled my face and her body warmed me. I snuggled into her.

“Why they hurt it?” she said.

“The tree?” I asked.

She nodded.

“It was dying already. Do you see how easily the branches break?”

Another nod.

“Maybe they’ll plant a new tree,” I said.

“I hope flowers. Pink and blue.”

“Blue flowers?”

“Hydras.”

I smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “Hydrangeas would be very pretty. How did you remember those?”

She shrugged without looking away from the circle.

“It’s fall though,” I continued. “The best flowers to plant now are bulbs that will bloom later.”

A movement at the rectory door caught my eye. Father Ash stepped out, looking like a proper clergyman, followed by the man who had arrived last night. In the morning light, I could see how tall he was. He wore his hair short, a few-days-old beard, and a scowl. As he stepped into the street behind Father Ash, he looked up at me. His eyes appeared light, but were underlined in shadows. He did not smile, and looked away after a moment. I rubbed my arms. I placed Grace on the wood floor. My bare feet felt like ice.

“All right, no more lazy,” I said. “It’s time to dress and eat. We need to get ready to open the store. Go wash your face.”

Grace scampered to the bathroom and I heard the scrape of the stool across the floor, and the splash of the water. She enjoyed doing things all by herself, and I loved her independence at such a young age. I wondered if a boy would be as capable.

A shout came from outside, and I returned to the window to see the tree crash to the street. The workers swarmed over it and began sawing it apart to clear the road for traffic. Father Ash stood with his back to me, but his visitor had a notepad in his hand and turned a slow circle until he faced my building. The rising sun warmed his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them, his eyes so light they appeared white. He looked down and wrote something on his notepad, then turned back to the circle and pulled a measuring tape from his pocket. He nudged Father Ash’s arm, and the two of them spread to either side of the circle, measuring its diameter. Father Ash called something to the man, and he made more notes.

I turned from the window when I heard the water in the bathroom shut off and went in myself to prepare for the day. I couldn’t imagine what the man was doing. He didn’t seem the landscaping sort, though I could hardly discern what sort he was.

No matter. In a town this size, I’d know soon enough. And regardless of what he was up to, it would have no bearing on my small life.

•   •   •

I
clenched my jaw when Boissevain’s Cadillac pulled up in front of the shop that afternoon. Millay’s mother sat in the backseat, the poet in the front.

Eugen let the old woman out first. Then he opened the door for Millay, helped her up, and escorted the ladies, one on either arm, into the shop. I glanced over their shoulders out to the clock tower in the distance. It was ten minutes to two, and Marie was due in soon to pick out material for the baby’s clothing.
Please, God, let her be late!
If she found out I worked for the witch woman, she’d never forgive me.
I cleared my throat and grasped the counter, where I stood, when I noticed they had brought none of the dresses I’d sewn for Cora with them.

“Did everything fit well?” I asked, addressing Millay’s mother, and trying to ignore the poet.

“Very well, thank you,” said Cora, extracting herself from her son-in-law’s arm. “Finely made. The finest I’ve ever owned. I’m leaving for home today, and I look forward to wearing them once Indian summer has had its say.”

“I’m glad,” I said.

Cora walked over to the display of winter coats I’d assembled yesterday in the front window. I felt Millay’s eyes burning me, but I did not look at her.

“Then you’ve brought the final payment?” I said, directing my attention to Eugen. I hated to be so blunt, but I wanted these people out of my shop as soon as possible. Millay stepped forward.

“I have,” she said, trapping me with her arresting green eyes and a tight smile on her red lips. She pulled a blue check out of her coat pocket, her name in block letters on the side. She passed it to me with some flourish, as if to show it was she who paid the bills. I was unimpressed, since I’d been in charge of my own household for years. Perhaps I’d get my name printed in block letters on the sides of my checks too.

“You’ve overpaid me,” I said, holding the check back out to her.

“It’s a down payment,” Millay replied. She made no move to retrieve the check. I groaned inwardly and raised my gaze to the ceiling. I did not want any more of their business, no matter how badly I needed it. “I want a velvet gown with white fur trim to keep me warm at home in the winter months.”

I nearly laughed in her face. Would she like a crown and a scepter with it? Ladies-in-waiting?

“I’m sure Lurie’s Department Store in Albany would have what you need. In the costume section.”

I heard a snort and saw that Cora covered her mouth and turned away so Millay would not see her laugh.

“Are you in the regular business of sending customers away to giant stores that will devour you?” said Millay.

“Only those whom I do not wish to serve.”

Eugen let out a nervous laugh. Cora turned back and watched me through the bottle-thick lenses of her glasses. I looked back at the clock tower. Five minutes to two! I placed the check on the counter.

“Please, I am very busy this afternoon,” I lied. “I’m glad the dresses worked for you, Cora, and I apologize for my rudeness, but it is how it must be. I will issue you a new check for the difference.”

Eugen stepped forward. “My dear, I know why you do not wish to serve my wife, but it would be good for your shop, for your daughter, to do so, wouldn’t it?” He spoke with charm and ease, his voice like warm honey. Millay followed his lead.

“I know you want to hate me,” she said, “but the simple fact is that I never make anyone do what they do not wish to do. Please think about that before you judge me. Besides, whatever
was
is finished, so there’s no need to hang on to the past.”

I felt shocked by Millay’s lack of discretion around her mother and her husband. What a strange family. I wished to flee, but I had nowhere to go, so I had to stand firm.

“It is not for you to tell me what I should do or think,” I said. “What passed might be over for you, but I have a sister still very much wounded from whatever it was that went on, and my loyalty to her prevents me from doing any more business with you. She will be here any minute, and I do not wish to disturb her delicate condition by your presence.”

“Come, Vincie,” said Eugen. “We do not wish to bother Miss Kelley any longer.”

“Just one more thing,” said Millay, her voice firm. “Not everyone is what they seem to be, and you, of all people, should understand the danger of judging others.”

Grace cried out from upstairs, where she was napping. All eyes looked toward the ceiling, and I reddened at Millay’s meaning. Damn her for throwing my bastard child in my face.

“Get out,” I said, as Grace began to wail. “Out!”

Millay turned with some reluctance, and Eugen escorted her and Cora back to the car. The two o’clock train announced the hour, but mercifully, Marie was nowhere in sight. Once the car pulled away, I turned to see to Grace, and ran right into Marie.

“Oh,” she said, grabbing the chair for support. My heart pounded.

“Where did you come from?” I asked, nearly breathless.

“I came in the back,” she said. “What’s got you so rattled?”

My glance returned to the street, but the car was out of sight. “Nothing,” I said. “Grace, I mean. She’s woken up crying from her nap. I need to see if she’s all right.”

“Has the baby fabric arrived?”

“Yes, it’s in the storage room.” I started up the stairs. When I entered Grace’s room, she cried from her bed. I reached down to pick her up and saw that she was covered in sweat. Her sheets were drenched. I lifted her and felt her body burning.

A fever.

“Oh, no,” I said, cradling her in my arms while I sat at the edge of her bed, gripped with raw maternal fear. Grace whimpered and sucked her thumb. I placed her in the rocking chair and stripped her bed, quickly putting on new sheets. I removed her sweat-soaked dress, put her in soft cotton pajamas, and tucked her back in with her dolly.

“Mommy is going to get the doctor,” I said.

I hurried downstairs to see Marie holding up yellow and green fabric. “Which do you think?”

“Grace has a fever,” I said.

Marie opened her eyes wide. “Oh, no! Poor thing.” She picked up the bolts of cloth. “I’d better go so I don’t get sick.”

My impulse was to feel angry at Marie for thinking only of herself, but then I chastised myself. She was thinking of the baby, and she was right. It wouldn’t do for her to become ill.

“I need to fetch Dr. Waters,” I said. “Can you stay downstairs while I run for him?”

Marie looked up at the ceiling with uncertainty.

“Or can you go and tell him, if you don’t want to stay?” I said.

“I’ll get him,” she said, setting the fabric down and rubbing her back. “You really need a phone installed.”

“Yes, and I’ll just do that with all the extra money I have lying around,” I said. As soon as I spoke the words, I remembered Millay’s check, still on the counter.

“You don’t need to snap at me,” Marie said, pulling on her coat. “You know, you’re really changing, Laura. I know it’s hard with Grace, but you’re becoming so cold.”

How dared she? How dared a respected woman with an employed husband criticize me? And I wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Since Everette’s infidelity, Marie’s outbursts and fits of temper had been just as sudden. I opened my mouth to retort, but Marie cut me off.

“Maybe if you exposed her father, you’d get some peace, or at least force him to take responsibility.”

“No,” I said. Concealing his identity seemed to be the only way I could preserve my dignity and protect Grace. I was also aware that my silence was a form of self-punishment, but it was what I thought I deserved. “No, he’s dead.”

“He’s not. It’s you who’s dying a little more every day. I’m sorry to say this, but it’s for your own good. I know I’m one to talk about bitterness, but I can see that it’s a poison. I try to remember that every time I walk in the door of my house. And it’s working.”

“I’m so glad my misfortune is able to help you,” I said. As soon as I’d uttered the words, I was sorry.

She picked up her pocketbook and started toward the door, but didn’t look at me. “I’ll send Dr. Waters as soon as possible.”

Once she left, I crossed the shop and shoved Millay’s check into the cash register. I walked to the window and watched Marie hurry off down Main Street, wishing I could take back my nastiness, and acutely aware that I was driving away my only ally.

I went to the kitchen to wet a rag and then to the cellar to chip some ice off the block I’d had delivered that morning. I ran the little cup up to Grace and slipped the ice in her mouth, where it could melt and help ease her temperature. Hideous remembrances of my mother’s death from the flu years ago threatened to push me into a panic, but I willed the memories away. Grace didn’t need me in hysterics to add to her misery.

Once Grace was sleeping easily, I sat in my front window, from where I could see the clock tower, and watched the hands move slowly around its face for two hours before Dr. Waters walked up the street as fast as his girth would allow. He passed the center of town, where my eyes found Father Ash’s friend using a shovel to fill and smooth the hole left by the maple’s roots. His shirt was soaked with sweat in spite of the chilly autumn air, and he lifted his hat often to wipe his brow. He barely looked at those passing by, but remained focused on his work.