L'Engle, Madeleine - A Ring of Endless Light (9 page)

might call them major life problems." "And I don't?" 110 "You're pretty vulnerable, Sis." Adam said, "But that's one of the nicest things about her. It means she's very much alive." I smiled him my thanks. John nodded. "I'm pretty miffed that Basil took to Vicky faster than he did to me. But, Vic-you're the one Mother's going to need to lean on. Did you see the look in her eyes last night when Grandfather forgot, and called you Victoria?" Adam spoke gently. "He's had his threescore years and ten and quite a bit more, Vicky. It's never easy, but it's comprehensible when someone has had a full life, like your grandfather." I said slowly, "I don't want to be like those Immortalists in California, wanting to live forever, and going in for cryonics ..." "What's that?" Adam asked. I looked at John and he told him, and I loved John because he didn't use it as an excuse to demolish Zachary. He ended, "I think it's easier to understand Commander Rodney, buried here on the Island, than Mrs. Gray, frozen in California." "When Grandfather-" I started, and could not go on. "What Grandfather wants, and what Mother wants for him"-John's voice was level-"is to have it all as simple as possible. A plain pine box, and he'll be at the church, not in a funeral parlor, and be buried next to our grandmother. He says they'll be good for the land. That's a lot better than freezing him, trying to hold on to something which isn't there." "You mean you agree with Zachary, and when you die it's nada, nada, nada?" 111 "No, Vicky, I didn't say that at all. But whatever it is, it won't be anything we can understand or talk about in the language of laboratory proof." He took his tray and stood up. "I've got to get back to work. Nora's waiting. Adam?" "I'll walk Vicky out to her bike. Then I'm going to go report to Jeb." John left from one door of the cafeteria, Adam and I from the other. We walked without talking till we came to the bike stand. Then he said, "It's been a good morning for me, Vicky." I was still feeling choky. "For me, too." Adam gave me his probing look, the look I was beginning to think of as his scientist-looking-through-a-micro- scope look. "Have you cried about your grandfather?" "I'm not sure." I didn't feel free to tell him about crying with Leo. But surely my tears had been as much for Grandfather as for Commander Rodney. Adam took both my hands in his, a firm, warm grasp. "It's hard to let go anything we love. We live in a world which teaches us to clutch. But when we clutch we're left with a fistful of ashes." I wanted to clutch Adam's hands, but I didn't. I withdrew mine, slowly. "I guess I have a lot to learn about that." "At the end of the summer, when I go back to California, I'll have to say goodbye to Basil. That's not going to be easy. Maybe Basil will be able to teach us both something about letting go." I thought of the great, smiling mouth, and the lovely feeling of resilient pewter as I scratched Basil's chest. "If anybody can teach us, Basil can." 5 �*� I biked along slowly, partly because it was uphill almost all the way to the stable, and partly because I wanted to hold on to the morning, not the troubling conversation in the cafeteria, but feeding Una and Nini, and seeing Ynid, who was going to have a baby. And meeting Basil. Meeting Basil was so special that it colored the entire day. And somehow meeting Basil made a difference to how I felt about Adam. The strange thing was that, while I felt excited about Basil, I felt comfortable with Adam, comfortable in a strengthening way, a way that made me feel that growing up and becoming an adult was not so terrible, even though we grow up and sooner or later we die; sooner, like Commander Rodney, or at the traditional threescore and ten like Grandfather. I put my bike in the shed and went around to the front of the house to check on the swallows. All I could see was a grey fluff of feathers up above the nest. The babies were taking their afternoon nap. I trotted around the stable and 113 went in through the screened porch. Ned and Rochester were lying curled up together, but I didn't see anybody else. Grandfather was not in his usual place on the couch. "Hello!" I called. Nobody answered. I looked in all the stalls and in the kitchen and nobody was there. Grandfather was not in the stall which was his study, where I'd hoped he might be. Not anywhere. "Hey, where is everybody?" I shouted. No answer. Rochester stalked arthritically in from the porch and whined at the foot of the ladder, so I climbed up to the loft and Rob was lying face down on his cot. If he'd been asleep I'd certainly made enough noise to wake him. "Rob." He didn't move. I hurried across the loft and sat down on the cot beside him. "Rob, what's the matter?" He rolled over and his face was all blotchy from crying. "Rob, what is it?" "It's Grandfather-" he started, and couldn't go on because he was choked up with sobs. My heart seemed to stop. "He isn't-" "He had a nosebleed," Rob managed to say. "Oh, Vicky, he bled and bled and Daddy couldn't stop it for the longest while and Mother-" He fished under his pillow and took out a wad of wet tissues. "What about Mother?" "She sat by Grandfather and held his hand and she-she didn't look like Mother at all." "But where is she? Where are Grandfather and Daddy?" "Daddy called the Coast Guard and they're taking 114 Grandfather to the hospital on the mainland for a blood transfusion. Daddy said they should be back by late afternoon." "With Grandfather?" "Yes. Daddy promised him he wouldn't leave him in the hospital." I looked at Rob's tear-streaked face and the strange darkness in his eyes, and I wondered fleetingly if all this was too much for Rob, if not the rest of us. He blew his nose, and then wiped his cheeks with the palms of his hands, leaving grubby streaks. "Where's Elephant's Child?" Elephant's Child is the much-loved remains of the stuffed elephant which had always been Rob's special thing. But he hadn't bothered about Elephant's Child for ages. Now he stretched across the cot on his stomach, leaning over and peering under and wriggling until he pulled Elephant's Child, worse for wear, from under the bed, and wound the music box, which amazingly still worked, and Brahms's Lullabytinkled across the loft. "Mother asked me to stay home so I could tell you about it." "Where's Suzy?" "Off somewhere with Jacky Rodney. She's going to work for him." So John, as usual, was right. "Suzy's not old enough to have a pilot's license." I don't know why I sounded so cross. "Neither is Jacky. Leo has the license." "She'll just get in the way." Rob looked at me questioningly, then said, "Suzy can be mighty handy." 115 I sighed. "I know. How'd it happen, Rob, how did it start?" "We were all sitting out on the porch, and Mother was just about to bring out lunch, and suddenly blood began to pour down Grandfather's face . . ." His lips started trembling. "Sorry, Rob," I said swiftly. "If Daddy's not making him stay in the hospital, it can't be too bad. Hey, I had a great time with Adam this morning. I even fed two of the dolphins, Una and Mini." I wanted to tell him about Basil, to give him a present to take his mind off Grandfather, but I knew Adam was right and Basil shouldn't be talked about. I told Rob about Una and Nini, and how Adam held a fish in his mouth and Nini took it as delicately as Suzy eating strawberries and cream. And I told him that Ynid was going to have a baby soon and that there were two dolphins with her to be midwives. And after a while I realized that Rob was curled up on his cot, sound asleep. �*� I slipped quietly down the ladder and went into the kitchen to get things started for supper. I set the table and made the salad dressing and cut up celery and scallions and green peppers, washed the lettuce, and then fixed the tomatoes and put them in a small bowl to be added later. I looked in the refrigerator to see if I could figure out what Mother had planned for supper. There were peas, so I shelled them. I saw some hamburger and a basket of mushrooms, so I figured at least I could make Poor Man's Beef Stroganoff, which I set about doing. I am really not usually that great around the kitchen. Far too often Mother has to prod me-and the rest of us- to get our chores done. Now I was keeping busy to help my- 116 6 self as much as Mother. But I could not turn off my mind; Rob's description of Grandfather bleeding had been all too graphic. So I let my mind drift to Basil and Adam. Dolphins are communal creatures, Adam had told me. They cannot give birth alone; they need midwives, need friends. What about dying? What does a pod of dolphins do when one of them has been hurt-maybe by a harpoon -or is old? How do they help, birthing or dying, without hands? Do they surround the one who is dying and hold him by their presence? Do they have any conscious thoughts about life and death? Can they ask questions? Or do you give up questions when you give up hands? I jerked as Rochester barked, his welcoming, friendly, happy bark. So it must be all right. I was somehow hesitant to go out to the porch. But I went. Grandfather was sitting on the lumpy couch, looking a little pale, but calm and serene. Mother, I thought, looked paler than Grandfather. Daddy sniffed. "I smell something delectable." "I just threw some things together ..." Mother gave me a quick hug. "Vicky, you're an angel." "How's-how's everything?" "I'm fine," Grandfather said. "All that new young blood and I'm ready to go try climbing one of those mountains I never had time for while I was in Africa and Asia." Daddy sat down on the couch beside him. "The mountain climbing mightn't be too bad, but I wouldn't advise jet travel just yet." "I wasn't thinking of flying over," Grandfather said. "I thought I'd swim. Where's everybody?" "Rob's asleep. John and Suzy aren't home yet. They're late. Oh-I vaguely think I heard John say something 117 about Dr. Zand wanting him to do something after five . . ." Mother went out to the kitchen, not with her usual brisk pace, but sort of wandering. I sat in the swing. Rochester hunched down beside Grandfather and Daddy, and put his head on Grandfather's knee. Ned sprang up into his lap and started purring. It was somehow as comforting as Basil's smile. And I wanted to tell Grandfather and Daddy about Basil. Instead, I pushed the wooden floor of the porch with my toe so that the swing creaked back and forth. "Father," Daddy said, "I am going to rent a hospital bed for you." Grandfather started to protest, but Daddy went on, "It will be more comfortable. This old couch is a mess." Grandfather's hand stroked Ned and the purr came louder. "During my lifetime I've learned a good bit about dying. In Alaska, for instance, an old man or woman would prepare to die, and would call the family for instructions and farewells. And when they had done what they wanted to do, wound up their affairs as we might say, they died. It was a conscious decision, a letting go which involved an understanding of the body that we've lost. And I thought then and I think now that it's far better than our way of treating death. But what I didn't realize when I was watching someone's sons and daughters standing around the deathbed, sometimes stolid, sometimes weeping, always moving deeply into acceptance of grief and separation, was that I do not have the strength of my Eskimo friends. It hurts me too much to see you being hurt." Daddy took his hand. "It's a part of it, Father, you know that." 118 Grandfather looked at me. "I know. But the look in my daughter's eyes this afternoon ..." Grandfather was looking at me but he was seeing Mother. "Perhaps I'd be better off in the hospital. Perhaps you shouldn't have brought me home ... I thought I could die with you around me, and I did not realize how much it would hurt you and that I cannot stand that hurt." "Perhaps," Daddy suggested, "you ought not to deprive us of that hurt?" I knelt by Grandfather, and Rochester leaned against me, almost knocking me over. "I think the Eskimos are right, Grandfather, and I know you're just as strong as anybody else in the world." He looked at me and blinked, as though clearing his vision. "Vicky?" "Yes, Grandfather. We don't want you off in the hospital where you're a number and a case history. We want you to be strong enough to let us be with you." I bit my lip because tears were beginning to well up in my eyes. The screen door slammed and Suzy banged in. "Hi, sorry to be late." I scrambled to my feet. "Jacky's really giving me a lot of responsibility," she announced triumphantly. "That's great," I said without enthusiasm. "Suzy." Daddy stood up. "Come in the kitchen with me for a minute." Grandfather continued to stroke Ned. Rochester yawned and flopped at his feet. "I frightened Rob," Grandfather said. 119 "Rob's been frightened before. He had all kinds of scary things happen in New York, I mean really scary." "Victoria," Grandfather started, then stopped. "No, it's Vicky, isn't it? You look very much the way your mother did at your age." "Grandfather, you told us once that if we aren't capable of being hurt we aren't capable of feeling joy." "Yes . . . yes. . ." "You were with Gram when she died." He continued to pat my hand absent-mindedly. "That is different. Caro and I were one. This-" "It's a different kind of oneness. It's a deep but dazzling darkness." Now he took my hand in his. "Poetry does illuminate, doesn't it? Bless you for understanding that, and for remembering." Daddy returned then. Grandfather said, "About that hospital bed. I think I would like to have it in my study, where I'm surrounded by the books that have been my friends throughout my life." "I think we can manage that, Father." "And where I can have some privatecy. This porch is rather like a railroad station-in the days when there used to be railroad stations. I will need some time to be alone, to meditate." When the screen door banged again, I jumped. So did Grandfather, who had closed his eyes. It was John, and Mother and Suzy came out of the kitchen, and at the same moment the phone rang and Suzy rushed to answer it. I haven't raced her for the phone in ages. 120 She called back out, "It's that nerd Zachary." "I'll take it in Grandfather's study," I said. "Hang up in the kitchen." "Well," said Zachary, "why haven't you called me?" I wasn't in the mood for this. "Why would I call you?" "Because I left three messages for you to call me, one with your father, one with your mother, and the last time with your little brother." "I guess they forgot, because-" He cut me off. "Forgot, nothing. I'm persona non gratis in their eyes." "Grata," I corrected automatically. "I told you my cram school was lousy. Didn't make us take Latin, most of us would have flunked it. Anyhow, your parents forgot accidentally on purpose." "Zachary. My grandfather has leukemia and he had a hemorrhage today. Daddy had to call the Coast Guard and get
him to the hospital on the mainland for a transfusion. They had other things on their minds than phone messages." "Oh. Doesn't this two-bit island even have a hospital?" "There's a fund drive on for a cottage hospital. We should have it by next summer, but that doesn't help us this year." "So your grandfather's on the mainland?" "No, Mother and Daddy brought him home. He's much better." "Good, then. Listen, I've hired your pal Leo for Saturday afternoon and evening. I want to take you to the mainland for a swim at the country club, and then dinner, and there's a concert you might like to hear, a pianist. Okay?" 121 "It sounds fine. I'll have to check with my parents." Zachary sighed exaggeratedly. "So check." "I'll call you back tomorrow." "When?" "Right after breakfast." "Okay." He hung up without saying goodbye, typical Zachary fashion. I went back to the porch and Rob had come down and was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Daddy had fixed drinks, and John handed me a Coke with a good big wedge of lemon, the way I like it. "Thanks to Vicky," Mother said, "dinner's all ready. I've just put some rice on to go under the stroganoff. It'll take a few minutes, so let's relax while we wait." And for a brief moment the world seemed stable again. �*� In the morning after breakfast I was puttering around the kitchen helping clean up, when Daddy came in and put a call through for a hospital bed, and then a call to Mr. Hanchett, on the mainland, saying that Grandfather would not be able to take the church services for the rest of the month. I was glad I wasn't around when he told Grandfather; Daddy's voice had that just-too-level quality it has when he's doing something he has to do and doesn't want to do. Mother came in as he hung up. But she'd heard. Her voice, too, was unnaturally level. "We're really unusually lucky." She put her hand on Daddy's arm in an affectionate gesture. "It seems almost providential that you'd already planned to take this summer to write that book."