Ivy Secrets (27 page)

She barely remembered the flight back east to Hartford. Tess stared out the window of the bus now as it moved up Route 91, past the miniskyline of Springfield, over the sedentary Connecticut River, past the new shopping mall in Holyoke. Dell had returned to Northampton two days after the memorial service, with a promise from Tess that she would turn her parents’ estate over to the attorneys to settle, then dissolve. The magnificent house had been put up for sale. The only things left to remind her that they had ever lived were the few personal things Tess had kept: a water-color of her father’s of Helen Hills Hills Chapel where her parents were married; a cameo that belonged to her grandmother, who had also gone to Smith. There were these things—just things—and the accounts that would be transferred into her name. There would be enough money to last her for years—forever, maybe, if she handled it right. But there was nowhere for Tess to go, other than to return to Smith. Dell had convinced her to finish her education, arguing it would give Tess time to decide what she wanted to do, and where she wanted to do it. Tess already knew what—she was determined to blow glass—the only thing that eluded her was where. Where would she settle, all alone? Where would home be from now on?

She’d never wanted to be an only child. But aloneness seemed to have been her fate, from the beginning of her conception to now. She was increasingly alone, lonely, in charge of herself. She was twenty-one years old now, a legal adult. Too old to need her parents, anyway. Too old to be considered an orphan. And too scared to have kept the baby that would have given her a family of her own.

She did, at least, have Dell. Dell was her friend.

And Marina. Surprisingly, Marina had become a friend. But Tess knew that after graduation, Marina would be off to that faraway country where her responsibilities lay. And then there was Charlie. Charlie, who thought Tess was her friend. Charlie, who had no idea what Tess had done, incorrigible, self-centered Tess, who had almost cost Charlie her life.

She spotted the sign that read Northampton, Route 5, and wondered if she would be invited to Charlie and Peter’s wedding, and how she would be able to get out of going.

As they pulled into the station, Tess leaned her head against the tinted glass and sighed, hoping she would have
the strength to stand up, to walk down the aisle, and get off the bus.

“Miss?” the driver called.

Tess blinked.

“This is Northampton.”

She pulled herself from the seat and lumbered down the aisle. As she descended the stairs, through the open door, Tess saw Marina and Charlie. They were there, waiting for her. She stumbled off the left step, then quickly righted herself.

“Haven’t you two got anything better to do on a Friday night than hang out in bus stations?” Tess asked.

Marina reached her tiny arms around Tess and pulled her into a tight hug. Over her shoulder, Tess watched Charlie, standing behind them, waiting her turn. She was bundled against the cold, but even the knit scarf tied around her head did not conceal the small scar of nearly two years ago. Tess closed her eyes and hugged Marina back, wishing she would never have to let go.

    Charlie suggested they stop for a pizza to bring back to Morris House. Tess merely nodded as the trio walked toward Main Street. Nodding was all she could seem to do; she did not want to talk, she did not want to feel pressured into conversation.

Standing inside the small, overheated pizza shop, Tess was overcome by the noise and the closeness. Her knees began to buckle. She grabbed Marina for support.

“You girls go ahead,” Nicholas said as he quickly grasped Tess’s elbow and steadied her. Tess was surprised to hear his voice. She often forgot the bodyguard’s presence, something she never dreamed could have happened when, over three years ago, they’d all become hesitant victims to Viktor’s shadow. “I’ll wait for the pizza and bring it along,” he added.

Marina nodded her thanks, and the three girls left together.

Outside, the cold air blasted Tess again. It had been warmer in San Francisco. Damp, but warmer. She clutched her coat around her and bent her head, wondering how cold it was in San Francisco Bay, wondering if her parents had felt
the chill before they took their last breath, wondering if they knew it was their last.

They headed up the hill in silence. Tess looked up at the imposing figure of College Hall that seemed to lord over the town below. She wondered if it had seemed as intimidating when Sally Spooner, society deb, one of the Grosse Pointe Spooners, had first arrived here. She wondered if, long before her mother had met Joseph Richards of San Francisco, Sally Spooner had known she would marry a man with money, marry a man with power. She warmed her mittenless hands in her pockets and pondered how her mother would have been dressed back then, in 1951. White gloves, no doubt. A single strand of pearls.

Suddenly Tess wondered what her mother had been wearing when the plane crashed.

Pain grew in her gut. She clutched her stomach as they turned onto West Street. A question flashed through her mind: Had the abortion really worked? Maybe she was still pregnant … maybe …

Then she remembered she’d had her period. Once. Twice since then.

She held her stomach more tightly and hoped she wouldn’t throw up here on the sidewalk. Here, in front of Marina, in front of Charlie.
Charlie
, she thought again, and quickly stole a glance at her one-time friend, the friend who had stolen the man Tess was supposed to have married. Stolen. Just as the Pacific had stolen Sally and Joseph Richards.

Suddenly her feet stopped moving. Tess tried to take a deep breath. She could not. She put her face in her hands and dropped to the curb.

“Tess,” Charlie said as she stooped beside her. “Oh, God, Tess, are you all right?”

The concrete was icy cold. And hard. It was so hard. Still, it felt better than walking.

“Shall we wait here for Nicholas?” Marina asked.

Tess didn’t answer.

“No,” she heard Charlie say. “We can help her. Come on, Tess, we’re almost home.”

Home.
Tess shook her head.

“Oh, Tess,” Charlie whispered as she stroked her hair. “It’s all so awful. We feel so sorry for you.”

Charlie O’Brien felt sorry for her? Why? Because she
was pathetic and didn’t have a boyfriend and because now, too, she was some kind of orphan?
Because she had such a pretty face?

Anger raged inside her. Tess pulled away from Charlie and quickly stood. The dizziness that overcame her propelled her madness. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” she shouted. She looked at Marina. “Yours either. I don’t need your fucking pity and I don’t need your fucking pizza.”

She turned on her heel and walked off toward Green Street, toward Morris House, leaving them standing on the sidewalk, speechless, behind her.

    Inside the house, Tess marched directly to her room. She slammed the door, locked it, and pulled the shade. Then she flopped on the bed—the bed that someone had made in her absence. She looked around the room and knew she hadn’t left it this way. It was too neat, too orderly. She stood up and opened a drawer of her bureau. She reached in and ripped out the contents—sweatshirts, sweaters. She flung them all over the room.

“It’s my fucking room!” she screamed to no one. “It’s my fucking room, and I can have it the way I want!”

She spotted the poster of Italy on her wall. Italy. Where she had been used by another who had probably felt sorry for her. Giorgini. The man with the slick tongue and the fast hands, the man who felt sorry for the ugly American and had seen his chance for a quick fuck. “Fuck you, too!” she shouted at the poster and ripped it from the wall. Why had she been such a fool? Why had she ever expected anyone to do more than feel sorry for Tess Richards, the girl with such a pretty face?

She turned sharply and saw her emerald vase on the windowsill—the vase that was supposed to make her feel as though she belonged in this world, the vase that was supposed to have told her there was a place here, even for her. But the small dot of light inside her, the small, glowing circle of warmth had now been extinguished. Snuffed out. And Tess had been left with only cold, dark emptiness.

Cold. Dark. Emptiness.

She darted to the window, picked up the vase, and heaved it against the wall. It shattered on impact, its shards
of hope, its green and golden flecks of dreams, piercing the air.

The tears were pouring down her face now. Tess looked at the remains of her future as they lay on the floor, broken, useless, dead. Dead like her baby. Dead like her parents on the floor of the Pacific, useless, broken, like her.

She picked up a chunk, pulled back the cuff of her sweater, and dug the ragged edge into the flesh of her wrist.

    She heard banging sounds. They were off in the distance, like the voices at her parents’ funeral. Then there were shouts.

“Tess!”

“Tess! Open the goddamn door!”

More banging.

She lay on the floor, curled into a ball, and smiled. She knew they couldn’t get her. She knew the door was locked. She wanted to turn on her back, but there was something warm on the floor. Something sticky.

“Tess! Open the goddamn door!”

Suddenly there was a loud crash. Tess picked up her head. Charlie and Marina raced into the room.

“Jesus Christ!” Marina shouted.

“Oh, God,” Charlie said, and covered her mouth with her hand.

Tess watched them, as though she were watching a movie, as though she were watching her friends act in a play.

“God, what have you done?” Marina cried and pointed to Tess’s wrist.

Tess followed her gaze.
Oh
, she thought,
there seems to be a lot of blood.

Charlie put an arm under Tess. “We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”

“No,” Marina answered, running her fingers through her long dark hair. Tess had seen that look before. Marina was thinking. Marina was plotting. “If we take her to the hospital, everyone will know. She could get expelled.”

“Marina!” Charlie screamed. “She slashed her wrist! She needs to get to the hospital.”

“If she gets expelled, she has nowhere to go.”

Charlie stared at Marina, as though trying to think of a comeback.

“We will take her to Dell’s,” Marina said. “Nicholas will help.

“Nicholas is getting pizza.”

Marina rubbed her hand through her hair again. “Tess? Can you stand up?”

Tess looked at her. Marina’s dark eyes seemed even darker, wider, than she’d ever seen them. Could she get up? Of course she could get up. What did they think she was, an invalid?

She pulled herself up, pushing off Charlie’s arm. A wave of dizziness swept over her again.

“Charlie,” Marina ordered. “Run down to the bathroom. Get a couple of towels. We need to put a tourniquet around her wrist.”

Charlie disappeared from the room.

Marina put her arm around Tess. “Oh, sweet Tess, what have you done?”

Tess looked at her.
What have I done? Isn’t it obvious?

    Tess didn’t remember leaving for Dell’s, only that Charlie was on one side, Marina on the other. They met Nicholas on the street. Tess thought it was a shame that he dumped the pizza on the sidewalk. Such a waste, such a waste. Suddenly he scooped her up. She nestled her face against his wool coat and closed her eyes. It felt so good to be in someone’s arms. It felt so safe.

    She awoke in a strange bed, a small bed, covered with slightly musty sheets and a thin blanket. It was cold in the room. And her wrist throbbed. She tried to turn over but something was in the way. She opened her eyes and stared into the red-circle cheeks of a smiling rag doll.

“She’s awake.” It was Charlie’s voice.

Dell moved to the bed, a concerned look on her face. “Tess,” she said. “Thank God. You’re going to be all right.”

Tess closed her eyes. She felt a warm hand on her forehead.

“It’s Dell, Tess. The girls brought you here.”

The girls, Tess thought. I know. Charlie and Marina. The girls.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to be fine,” Tess responded. “I want to die.”

The hand rubbed her forehead.

“You’re not going to die,” Dell said. “You’re not going to die for a very long time.”

Tess lay still, wishing everyone would go away. Everyone, except, maybe, for Dell. “Are they still here?” Tess asked, not opening her eyes.

“Charlie and Marina are here. Nicholas is in the other room.”

“Marina can stay, I guess.”

“And Charlie?”

Tess felt tears come from the corners of her eyes. She reached over and tugged the rag doll close against her face.

“You want me to leave?” It was Charlie’s voice, close beside the bed.

“It’s my fault,” Tess answered, but wasn’t sure if she’d said the words aloud.

“What’s your fault?”

God, she had said them aloud. Now Charlie knew. Now everyone knew. With her eyes still closed, Tess clutched the doll and turned on her side, away from the voices.

“Willie,” she said quietly. “I told Willie Benson where to find you.”