Saying Grace (5 page)

“Good morning, Patrick. Good morning, Lillibet. Good morning, Sara. Good morning, Jesse. Jesse…What is this in my hand, a dead fish? Oh! It’s your hand! That’s
much
better. Good morning, Nairi.”

She had begun this practice sixteen years before, when she took over a school with seventy-seven children left, most of whom were poised to flee. “Seventy-seven,” she had reported to Henry when she got back to Boston, “and their IQs match their shoe size.”

She had been thirty-two at the time. Most people thought she was out of her mind to take on a school that looked to be on the verge of closing. But her mentor said, “If you follow a beloved longtime head at a thriving school, you’ll be fired in three years because no one really wanted a change. It’s better to follow a head Saying Grace / 29

who was drunk or insane.” Rue’s predecessor at The Country School, a nephew of the Miss Plums, had apparently been both.

The first thing Rue had decided was that even if they couldn’t read or write, Country School children would know how to look you in the eye, call you by name, and give a firm handshake. The tradition caused a great bottleneck now that enrollment was nearing three hundred, but the children liked it, and Rue liked it. There were usually a dozen moments in the course of a day when she feared she was was doing the wrong thing, but in this exercise at least, adding very slightly to the level of civility in the world, she felt sure of doing no harm.

For the first day of school Kathleen Clancy, a dear little girl with Coke-bottle glasses, had brought Mrs. Shaw a tomato she had grown all by herself. It was large and ripe and beginning to split. Rue took it carefully, with warm thanks, shook Kathleen’s hand, and wished her a very happy year in second grade.

As she was doing this, a man Rue had never seen before appeared suddenly from the side of her field of vision and started to barge past her and Kathleen, tangled among the little ones. He was dark and very tall with a long angular face, and he moved in a violent rushing way, as one who has been running for a plane and sees that it has left the gate, whose next move is going to be to knock people down and yell at the gate agent. Beyond Home, Rue saw that someone, in spite of the large handpainted sign asking that no one park on the grass, had circumvented the line of cars by pulling a gleaming green Masarati onto the lawn of the preschool.

“Good morning,” said Rue, smiling, but subtly blocking his way by holding out her tomato. “Can I help you?”

The man looked balked and angry, as if not used to being questioned.

“Have you seen Malone and David Dahl? I’m Dr. Dahl.”

Rue extended her hand and said calmly, “I’m Dr. Shaw.”

“Are they here yet? I’d
like
to see my children,” he added sarcastically, as if she had personally kept him from them.

“I’ll be through here in just a moment, Dr. Dahl. Why don’t you wait for me in my office? Right in there, in the administration building.”

Rue watched him storm off toward Home.

30 / Beth Gutcheon

“Good morning, Lia. Good morning, Ashley. Good morning, Ry-an…what happened to your foot?”

“A horse at camp stepped on it,” said Ryan proudly. He was in a nylon cast that was covered with graffiti. He stumped away.

“Good morning, Jennifer, good morning, Scott. Jennifer…”

Jennifer Lowen, a fifth grader wearing all the Colors of Benetton, hopped back to her.

“Could you do me a favor? Would you find Mr. Dianda and ask him to come speak to me? Thank you. He should be in his office.”

Mike Dianda, reassuringly tall and broad-shouldered in his tweed jacket and khakis, appeared moments later. “There’s a fairly aggressive item stalking up and down in front of Merilee’s desk,” he said.

“Good morning, Shana.”

“Good morning, Mr. Dianda.”

“I know,” said Rue. “Would you please go take over Mrs. Dahl’s Spanish class and ask her to come to my office?”

At that moment the warning bell for first class sounded. “Yes, ma’am,” said Mike.

“Good morning, Jamie, good morning, Tara, better hop it…you’ve got two minutes…. Oh, Royya, thank you!” A beautiful black-eyed girl emerged from a huge silver van and handed her a bouquet of zinnias with their cut stems wrapped in wet newspaper. Rue waved her thanks to Dr. Zayyad, Royya’s mother, who was a competitor of Henry’s. Rue liked Rita Zayyad a lot.

“I would
like
you to let my children know that I’m here for them,”

Tom Dahl demanded, loudly, as Rue walked into Home. He was pacing up and down in front of the trophy case.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute, Dr. Dahl.” She walked past him and handed her flowers and her tomato to Merilee. “Could you find a vase, Merilee? And don’t let me go home without the tomato.

When Mr. Kip gets here, will you ask him to wait a few minutes?

Thank you.”

She turned. “Come this way, Dr. Dahl. I don’t have much time. I have a meeting scheduled with my Board head. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were coming….” She showed him into her office.

Tom Dahl pulled the door shut forcefully behind them. “What is this place? I never heard of it,” he demanded, gesturing in a way Saying Grace / 31

that indicated he meant the school. Rue stared at him, then sat down at her desk. She was trying to decide whether to play it straight or to get aggressive herself.

She decided to play it straight. “We’re an independent country day school, pre-K through 8. We were founded in nineteen forty-eight; our current enrollment is two hundred ninety-eight, and we’re quite well known in the mid-coast area….”

“The school my children attend,” he said, as if each word were a piece of jerky he had to rip off with his teeth and then spit at her,

“The Bonewright School in Los Angeles, where I have paid
full
tuition for both, was surprised to find you expected my children to enroll here. They were kind enough to inform me you had asked for their transcripts. Are you in the habit of taking kidnapped children and hiding them from their parents?”

“I’m not in the habit of requiring legal proof of custody or to see death certificates in the case of widowhood, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“My wife shows up out of the blue, for no reason, and it doesn’t occur to you to ask her if she has the right to be hiding children in some god-forsaken town without telling her husband?”

“Do you think this town is god-forsaken?” Rue asked mildly. “I’ve always thought it was rather blessed. But you may be on more in-timate terms with the Lord than I am.”

“You think that Ph.D. makes you smart, don’t you?” Rue had hoped that might bother him.

“I don’t know if that’s a serious question,” said Rue, “but I’ll give you a serious answer. No, I don’t. I don’t think degrees have anything to do with making people smart. Doctor.”

At that point, Emily walked in.

“Oh, Jesus,” said Tom Dahl, wild with disgust. What was his wife doing on campus? He had assumed he could either scoop the kids up and have them back in LA before anyone was the wiser or else bully someone here, who after all wouldn’t know Emily from a hole in the ground, into handing them over.

“Emily,” said Rue, “Dr. Dahl tells me there’s a misunderstanding about where Malone and David are to go to school. I thought the two of you together could probably solve this better than I can.

Would you like me to go or stay?”

32 / Beth Gutcheon

“Stay,” said Emily as Tom roared “GO!”

Just then, Chandler Kip walked in, looking hot and annoyed.

Every visible stitch of clothing on his body, including the shoes, had been handmade in London. This was a man who wanted no misunderstanding about exactly how successful he was, but his crisp white shirt was wilted and the top of his head looked uncomfortably pink.

“Chandler, good morning. These are new parents in the school, Dr. Dahl and Emily Dahl. Mrs. Dahl has been kind enough to take over for Mariel Smith….”

“Take over what?” Tom demanded.

“Look, Rue, I can’t wait, my car’s in the shop, and I have a very important meeting downtown in forty minutes,” said Chandler, virtually ignoring the two seething humans who were sharing the office with Rue. “I’ll have to call you later to reschedule.”

“I’m awfully sorry,” said Rue. Chandler waved his hand impatiently, a gesture Rue couldn’t quite interpret. He went out and shut the door.

“Took over
what?
” Tom said again, to Emily.

Neither Rue nor Emily answered.

“Emily, Dr. Dahl says I should have asked before, and perhaps I should have. Who has custody of Malone and David?”

There was a silence. Tom glared at Emily. Emily looked as if she were fighting for clarity.

“I do,” she said.

“Nobody does,” Tom shouted. “There’s no agreement, you just left!”

“I do, because if we fight it out in court I’ll get them and you know it. You left me, Tom….”

“
You
left the house and stole the car and the children!”

“You want a ‘vacation from the marriage’ while you’re sleeping with your nurse! I’ve been a faithful, full-time, at-home mother for eleven years! Do you think you’re going to get custody?”

“Are you filing for divorce?”

“I will.”

“Well then
you’re
leaving me. I don’t want a divorce.”

“Oh for christ’s sake!”

“This is a no-fault state….”

Saying Grace / 33

“That applies to money, not who’s fit to raise children,” Emily howled. Rue stood up and handed Emily the nearest box of tissue as she burst into tears.

“Dr. Dahl, I’m going to ask you to leave. If you are going to have a custody fight, it should not be in my office.”

“I’m taking the children.”

“Not unless you show me a court order.”

“
She
can’t show you one!”

“What should we do, put them in a foster home?” Emily yelled at him.

“I’ll sue you,” said Tom to Rue viciously.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Rue.

“I want to see them,” he said.

Rue looked at Emily. Emily said, “They’re in class. It’s their first day of school.”

“I can’t wait here all day!”

“If it were me, I would,” said Emily.

“I work for a living,” said Tom nastily.

“So do I,” said Emily.

“At
what?
”

“I really think,” Rue said, “that you should have your lawyers work out regular times for your visits, Dr. Dahl. But you
are
welcome to stay and have lunch with us. The children will be free then for forty-five minutes.”

Tom Dahl stared at her. He stared at his wife. Moments passed.

Suddenly, he turned and stalked out, slamming the door explosively behind him.

“Well,” said Rue, looking at Emily. “The year has begun.”

Emily sat down and began to shake. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry….”

Rue opened her office door and called, “Merilee—is there any coffee? Would you bring us some? Do you mind?”

“I’ve got to get back to my class,” Emily said.

“Take a deep breath,” said Rue. Emily did, and it was ragged, like sobs. “Again,” said Rue. Merilee came in with mugs of coffee.

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Emily more calmly. “I thought he didn’t know where I was.” She blew her nose. “I’m sorry, it really isn’t like him…it’s just that I broke all the rules. He’s supposed to be 34 / Beth Gutcheon

able to hurt me and reject me, and I’m supposed to stay and take it, because I’m a mother. He can’t believe I walked out of his cage. He can’t believe I won’t come back and climb back in and pull the door closed behind me. Maybe I can’t either. I wonder if he’s put down fresh paper for me. Shoveled up all the old doots and bird seed.”

“I take it you don’t have a lawyer yet.”

Emily shook her head.

“I’ve got a good one for you. Ann Rosen. She’s on our Board, she was my president for four years. She’s smart and she’s not afraid of bullies and she gets it over quickly. At least that’s what I’m told.

Would you like her number?”

Emily nodded. It looked to Rue as if she still didn’t believe things had come to this.

Merilee came to the door. “Excuse me…the auction committee would like just a minute, if your nine o’clock is canceled….”

“God, I’m sorry—” said Emily for the third time, jumping up.

Rue said, “Why don’t you come have supper with us tonight? I know Henry would like to see you. Bring the children.”

The auction chairpersons trotted in, carrying clipboards and mugs of coffee.

“You don’t have to…” said Emily.

“You don’t know. We have an empty nest for the first time tonight…you’ll be doing us a favor. Come at six.” Emily, teary, nodded and ran out. The auction chairs, both fit and bright-eyed in spandex and sweatshirts, began to chatter. The annual auction fund-raiser this year was to have a Gay Nineties theme.

That evening, Rue missed the moment when Emily and Henry met. She was in the garden, cutting flowers for the table. Emily came to the front door with the children, found it open, and came through the house, following the smell of cooking, to where Henry stood in the kitchen, making pesto. She stood in the doorway watching him.

The same tall, long-torsoed body, the same thick blond hair, stiff and wiry and curling over the silver side pieces of his glasses. His hair had more gray than hers, but of course he probably didn’t dye his.

He looked up, about to speak, and saw her. She was wearing pressed blue jeans and a fresh shirt, and her hair was pulled back Saying Grace / 35

and sleek. His mouth hung open a moment. Then he grinned and said, “Well, waddya know. It’s
you
.” He put down the spoon he was holding and put his hands on his hips and stared. After a while, Emily said, “Yes, it’s me. And this is Malone, and this is David.

Malone, this is my old friend Dr. Shaw. Who used to be called Cricket.” Malone went to shake hands. David went to shake hands.

Emily went to shake hands, but Henry kissed her on the cheek, his hands on her shoulders. They smiled at each other.

“I’m so glad to see you,” said Emily, broadly smiling.

“Me too you,” Henry said. “You’re certainly aging well.” Then Rue came in.