Much Ado About Mother (10 page)

“Shhhhh. You need to speak softly. You'll agitate them and that's bad for their fur.”

“Dymph—”

Again, Dymphna raised her finger to her lips, but this time she didn't look at Erinn. She just proceeded serenely with her work.

“You're projecting very negative energy,” she whispered to Erinn.

“Dymphna . . . ,” Erinn whispered. She realized the diminutive woman couldn't hear her harsh whisper from the porch. She walked down into the yard.

“We need to talk.” After filling a bowl, Dymphna patted each rabbit as she went down the row. It looked as if she was making eye contact with each one, but Erinn could see no rabbit eyes. Just fur.

“I understand why you're so upset,” Dymphna said quietly, the ball of wool hopping beside her.

“Well, that's a start.”

“I can't even imagine what you must have thought when you saw your beautiful house destroyed like that.” Dymphna shuddered. “When they moved your leather sofa out and brought in those
lips
. . .”

Erinn had forgotten the fresh hell that was her living room. Perhaps Dymphna
was
the least of her worries. Caro did another demented spin through the yard, streaking to all four corners and then blazing back into the house. Dymphna watched Caro's manic dance.

“We're going to have to work on that,” she said.

“Let's have a little chat.” Erinn tried again to get her attention.

After feeding the last rabbit, Dymphna turned to Erinn with a smile.

“Sure. Come inside.”

Erinn felt herself getting misty-eyed as she entered the guesthouse. Dymphna had added her own small effects to the place, but it was essentially the same. Erinn sat wearily at the little café table and rubbed her eyes. She thought about how she drove from Cambria to Venice, just to be underappreciated by her mother and sister, then home, where she had been displaced by a faded reality-TV has-been and her cat had been displaced by ten enormous rabbits.

Dymphna patted Erinn's shoulder as she placed a cup of fruit salad in front of her.

“You should eat this,” she said. “I can tell by your skin that you're drinking too much coffee.”

Erinn was too stunned by the day's events to do anything but take a bite of blueberries. Dymphna sat down across from her and put her little hand over Erinn's.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

CHAPTER 11

SUZANNA

T
raveling with a baby made it impossible to sneak up on people. By the time Suzanna had parked the car in front of Erinn's, gotten a squealing Lizzy out of the car seat, wrapped various diaper and toy bags around her own neck, not to mention waited for Virginia to steer Piquant over to a neighboring lawn for a quick pee, a tense Erinn was walking toward them. Suzanna saw her first and called out, “Mom made Mac!”

Erinn's tight posture visibly loosened as Suzanna pointed to the casserole in the back of the car. Erinn picked it up and sniffed at it. The sisters looked at each other. Even with a baby on Suzanna's hip and a house full of outrageousness behind Erinn, the siblings traveled in a sensory time machine back to the days of eating macaroni and cheese with both their parents around a table made from an old oak barrel.

“We thought we'd pop in for a visit,” Virginia said, bringing her daughters back to the present.

The previous evening, Virginia had listened, wide-eyed, over a mug of Monk's Tea, a blend of black tea and sunflower petals, as Suzanna filled her in on the details of Erinn's new living arrangements. Not only was Erinn renting her guesthouse to a woman who brought ten rabbits with her, but the pop-culture princess who prided herself on knowing
nothing
that happened in the world before 1970 was living in Erinn's completely—hideously—redecorated house.

“And Blu took over the master suite,” Suzanna said, adding in an almost whisper, “even the bathtub is Blu's now!”

“Poor Erinn,” Virginia said. “This must be her worst nightmare!”

“I know,” Suzanna said.

Suzanna was the first to admit it, but growing up, she, not Erinn, was the daughter who usually had their parents shaking their heads in dismay. Sitting here, over a cup of tea, shaking her head alongside her mother, she tried not to let her sibling rivalry get the best of her. It did seem impossible, though, that Erinn, the woman who could make Aristotle look like a slacker, had gotten herself into such a fix.

Suzanna knew it wouldn't take long for Virginia to figure out a way to get herself over to Erinn's and inspect the situation. Suzanna knew her mother's plan as soon as she woke up. She could smell macaroni and cheese baking in the oven. Clearly, a casserole sizzling away in the oven at eight in the morning meant it was going to be a bribe, not dinner. Erinn could not resist Mom's macaroni and cheese, made with equal parts cheese and elbow macaroni. Erinn might be annoyed that her mother and sister had arrived without an invitation, but Mom's Mac would get them in the door.

It worked. Erinn grabbed the casserole and ushered them around the side of the house.

“Why aren't we using the front door?” Suzanna asked. A trip around back over the uneven cobblestones with all their gear, not to mention a toddler and a dog, was going to be awkward at best and death defying at worst.

“We're going around to the kitchen,” Erinn said, leading the way. “I'm ignoring the house.”

Suzanna exchanged a quick look with her mother. That didn't sound good.

Piquant was straining at his leash and whining. Virginia kept pulling him back and sternly telling him to “Heel,” a command to which he turned a deaf doggy ear.

As they bumped through the side yard, Suzanna thought of pointing out that the kitchen was part of the house, but realized there was no way to make a rational argument to someone who has just said, “I'm ignoring the house.”

As they rounded the backyard, it was clear what was agitating the dog. Lizzy was the first of the humans to spot the wall of rabbits. She let out an ear-piercing squeak of delight. Lizzy struggled out of Suzanna's arms and ran at the hutches. The added excitement in the air caused Piquant to up the indignant-barking ante.

“I knew they were here first,” Piquant seemed to say.

“Doggy!” Lizzy said, patting a wire cage that housed a rabbit larger and furrier than Piquant.

Suzanna wondered if Piquant thought they were dogs as well. The rabbits seemed fairly circumspect when Lizzy approached them, but started hopping around their cages as Piquant's barking got more and more insistent. Piquant's barking seemed to signal to Lizzy that all was not fun and games and the toddler started to cry. She raced back to her mother.

Virginia scooped Piquant into her arms with the same movement Suzanna used to lift Lizzy. Both women tried to quiet their armloads of unhappy little beings. The noise escalated—shrieking toddler, disgruntled dog, soothing mother sounds from both Virginia and Suzanna were now joined by weird barking sounds from all the rabbits.

An elf in gypsy clothes suddenly came flying out of the guesthouse. Suzanna realized at once this must be Dymphna. With long hair spreading out behind her like wings, the tiny woman ignored the newcomers and crossed the yard to her rabbits in a few strides. Suzanna watched, fascinated, as the woman put her hand in front of each cage, and spread her fingers across the wire front. Suzanna wasn't close enough to hear if she was saying anything, but it appeared that it was the peaceful presence of Dymphna, rather than any words, that settled each rabbit in turn.

Once her rabbits were calm, Dymphna turned her attention to the transfixed little group standing in the yard. She smiled serenely at them and then waved to Lizzy. Lizzy stopped howling, and with a gentle sniffle, waved back. Piquant was still yapping up a storm. Dymphna, still smiling, walked toward the struggling, outraged dog. Without saying a word, Dymphna stood in front of Virginia and slowly put her hands out. She clearly wanted to hold Piquant.

Suzanna looked at Erinn, who was standing by the steps to the back porch, guarding her casserole, but clearly as transfixed as the rest of her family.

“He's not really a very friendly dog,” Virginia tried to whisper to Dymphna over the barking.

Since Dymphna just stood there with her hands out, Virginia caved in to good manners and handed the dog to her. Suzanna and Piquant were equally surprised by this turn of events. Piquant had made it very clear to everyone at the Bun, the Nook, and the apartment that while he would sporadically accept a pat from people, he was only to be held by Virginia and only to have his ears pulled by Lizzy. Suzanna watched, fascinated, as Piquant reared back in Dymphna's arms and bared his teeth. In Eric's arms, the sight of Piquant trying to look ferocious with his little mean face and snickery growl would have bordered on hilarious. The tiny dog would not have seemed menacing in the least. But this woman was so small, Piquant actually seemed like a reasonably sized threat. Dymphna walked up and down the yard with the dog, stroking his head. By now, Lizzy was quiet in her mother's arms and the yard was completely still. Suzanna could not make out any murmurings coming from Dymphna, but Piquant had stopped growling at her. Instead, he lay against her shoulder. Suzanna got a glimpse of him through Dymphna's hair. He was awake, but calmer than she had ever seen him. Dymphna walked the dog up to the rabbit hutches, turning her body sideways, so Piquant could see each rabbit in turn without having to adjust his position on her shoulder.

Dymphna walked back to Virginia, and without speaking, returned Piquant to her. He had the same look Suzanna knew she wore after a trip to a spa—totally relaxed. Dymphna stood back and folded her hands in front of her.

Suzanna realized no one in the yard had spoken in at least ten minutes. She wondered if she should be the one to break this mystical silence, when the back door to the house banged open.

An equally tiny woman, this one with reddish-and-blond-striped curls, strode purposefully to the end of the back porch. Suzanna could feel the energy in the yard change instantly—and she wasn't much a believer in that sort of thing—as the woman on the porch, who must, by the process of elimination and temperament, be Blu, scanned the group in the yard. Blu must have decided that the little band of women was of no interest, because she turned to Erinn at the bottom of the steps.

“I broke a nail,” Blu said.

“You have nine others,” Erinn said.

“What am I going to do?” Blu demanded, holding the offending digit out for inspection.

“I'd offer you one of mine,” Erinn said, lifting the casserole for Blu to see, “but I'm using them.”

Even from halfway across the yard, Suzanna could see Blu roll her eyes and head back into the house, slamming the door behind her. Suzanna absently kissed Lizzy's head and thought,
That awful woman is somebody's daughter. Dear God, please let me keep my eye on this parenting thing.

Erinn, still clutching the casserole, started up the stairs. She turned back to her family and Dymphna.

“Welcome to the House of Blu,” Erinn said. “I see you guys have met Dymphna.”

Suzanna, balancing Lizzy, and Erinn, balancing the casserole, climbed the steps, but stood on the porch. No one seemed particularly eager to go into the house.

“I guess that was Blu,” Suzanna said.

Erinn nodded.

“I'm really glad Mother brought Mac,” Erinn said. “It's hellish here.”

“I bet you just want to punch whoever said, ‘There's no place like home' right about now,” Suzanna said, always happy to share a sisterly moment with her older sibling.

“Do you mean John Howard Payne?” Erinn asked.

“Pardon?”

“John Howard Payne. In 1823, he wrote, ‘Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.' Is that who you mean? Or are you thinking about
The Wizard of Oz
? In that case, it would be L. Frank Baum.”

Suzanna was used to sisterly moments being short-lived. The sisters waited for their mother—and the blissed-out Piquant—to join them on the porch before braving the House of Blu. Dymphna was nowhere in sight.

“Where's Dymphna?” Suzanna asked.

“She went back to the guesthouse,” Virginia said. “I asked her if she'd like to come in for some macaroni and cheese, but she said she was drying rose petals.”

The Wolf women turned and stood staring at the door into the kitchen. Suzanna felt sorry for her sister. Erinn's home had always been a source of comfort to her, no matter how the world batted her around. Now, Erinn looked as if she were bracing herself to go in.

“Mac, anyone?” Erinn said with a forced smile and went inside.

Suzanna stood for a moment with her mother. Suzanna looked at the dog, snoozing serenely on her mother's shoulder.

“Is he OK?” Suzanna asked. “What did Dymphna say to him?”

Virginia peeked into the kitchen. Whatever she was going to say to Suzanna, she obviously didn't want Erinn to hear. Suzanna followed her gaze and saw Erinn putting the casserole into the oven. Suzanna leaned in so she could hear her mother.

“I asked her, and she said she didn't
say
anything,” Virginia said. “She said . . .”

“What?” Suzanna asked. “She said what?”

“She said,” Virginia whispered, “she said words have no power.”

Mother and daughter stared at each other. Their eyes drifted through the door to Erinn, who was setting the table.

“Don't tell Erinn,” Suzanna and Virginia said at the same time.