The Age of Hope (11 page)

“Really?” She smiled bleakly.

“Okay, kids, let’s go,” Roy said, and he bent to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll come tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine. You have so much to do.”

“I’ll come.”

But he didn’t come. Emily, wearing a bright pink raincoat, arrived instead, perhaps sent by Roy, perhaps arriving of her own volition. Hope didn’t have the courage to ask. She was very pleased to see Emily, who came with books—a spy novel by John le Carré and
The Winter of Our Discontent
by John Steinbeck—and with these gifts she had included a small framed print of a Degas painting (she made a point of saying the painter’s name), in which a young woman wearing a white chemise was bent over in a dark room, and behind the woman on a small table was an open suitcase beside which rested a string of pearls. Emily placed the framed print beside Hope’s water glass. It would remain there for the duration of Hope’s stay, though she rarely looked at it, and when she did, it was merely to glance at it and then turn away. The open suitcase held some message, she was sure, but the thought of interpreting that message frightened her.

Emily told her to get dressed—they were going to walk outside for a bit. She had received permission from the staff. And so they strolled, arm in arm, around the block, and as it was Sunday and everyone was at rest, there was very little traffic, though children played in a nearby park, their voices lifting and then falling and then dissipating, and to Hope the sounds of children were like the cries of birds. She listened to Emily talk about her life, an existence that now included an older man who owned a restaurant that catered to a high-end clientele and served dishes such as trout and mussels and beef tenderloin on skewers. She had met him at a parent–teacher meeting at Angela’s school and they had immediately formed a bond. He was witty and intelligent and well-travelled. “He has two sons. His wife died last year.” Emily said his name, Sam, and then said that Sam thought the apartment she lived in was deplorable. He was looking for something more fitting. “Not that I can afford it. But he wants to help me out.” She squeezed Hope’s arm. “He’s quite the catch.”

Hope said, “I’m so happy for you.”

“I know you are,” Emily said. “You’re such a good friend. That’s why I know you will soon be home again, and that you will persevere. You’re faithful. I envy that. I wish I was more faithful.”

“But you are. Look at you now, visiting me.”

“Oh, I know. But I left Paul in the lurch. Just walked away.”

“Does Paul know? About Sam?”

Emily shook her head. “It would kill him.”

“He must suspect something. He’s not naive. And let’s be clear. I am not absolutely faithful. I left my youngest daughter in a car and walked away from her.”

“That wasn’t you, Hope. That was some other person who wasn’t well.”

“Yeah, Crazy Hope.”

“Not much more crazy than me, sweetie. I’ve just been lucky.”

She didn’t like it when Emily called her “sweetie.” It made her feel trivial, like Emily was talking down to her. “Did you ever look at Angela, when she was a baby, and wonder who she was? And feel nothing for her?”

Emily took her hand and said, “No, but then I didn’t have four children either. Look at me, barely able to keep up with one.”

“Judith told me that Angela is a woman now.”

Emily laughed. “Yes, she is ‘a woman’ now. And that presents us with a whole new kettle of fish. Fits of anger, raging independence, the possibility of pregnancy.”

“Oh, she’s only thirteen.”

“Going on thirty.” Emily seemed proud of this, and it was up to Hope to make sense of what she thought was a misplaced self-importance.

When they said goodbye in the lobby, holding each other for a long moment, Hope felt that she was suffocating and she did not understand why Emily’s visit had pushed her into a deep despair.

That evening she prayed that the morning would arrive not too quickly, and that when it did, she would manage to swing her legs out of bed and step into the slippers near the bathroom door. This was all she asked.

When Hope was discharged from Winkler and returned home, she entered a house where she was a stranger. Small things that Heidi had implemented left Hope discombobulated. The milk was stored on the wrong side of the fridge, the towels were folded in half rather than in thirds, the kitchen floor needed waxing, and Melanie demanded Cream of Wheat before bedtime. Even though it was now summer holidays and the children’s routines had changed, Heidi still appeared every morning at seven, scooping Melanie out of bed and dressing her, talking all the while. Hope, waking, heard the domestic noises around her and felt immediately inadequate. Enormous social changes had occurred during the three months she was gone. Conner’s hair had grown and his bangs hung down over his eyes and his ears had disappeared and his habit was to swing his head constantly to the left in order to clear his vision. Roy had bought him a drum kit, and every day Conner descended to the basement to make noise. Judith was now wearing miniskirts and high boots and she spent an hour each morning assessing her wardrobe and tossing clothes here and there, so that when Hope passed by her doorway mid-morning she saw the maelstrom, paused, considered cleaning it up, and then kept walking. One afternoon, when Judith returned from the swimming pool and left her wet bathing suit on the bathroom floor, Hope pulled her back upstairs and told her to tidy up after herself. “This isn’t a farmyard, young girl. Heidi might not care how we live, but I do.”

Judith stared at her mother. “You were gone, Mom, and nobody died.”

She wore a light cotton top and Hope noticed that her chest had matured. She was wearing a bra now. When had this happened?

“That’s true. And I’m glad. But your mother is back.”

She realized that she would have to tell Heidi she didn’t need her anymore. She mentioned this to Roy one evening as they prepared for bed. “I want my house back. And my children. Heidi’s been wonderful, but I can manage on my own.”

“Are you sure? She’s very good with the kids.”

“We can arrange for her to baby-sit one night a week. Right now, the kids need their mother, and with Heidi around that isn’t going to happen.”

And so she tumbled back into the world that she had left. At first Melanie constantly asked after Heidi, but within a week, she seemed to have reattached herself to Hope, who managed to rise early every morning, have breakfast with Roy if he wasn’t off to a golf game or a meeting, and then start the laundry and dust the furniture. She felt that she was letting everyone know who was in charge.

In early August, over a three-week period, the family went on vacation, driving down to the States, staying briefly at Detroit Lakes, and then heading southwest towards Las Vegas and California. They pulled an Airstream that Roy had acquired through a trade-in with a customer. Hope’s mother joined them, and so there were seven of them crowded into the Oldsmobile. Hope was delighted to be on the road. She loved the open sky, the horses running across the grassland, the approaching mountains, and she especially loved the proximity of her family. And the lack of routine. And she loved that Roy was nearby, that he could help with the children. She was particularly pleased that Conner could spend three weeks with his father and have a model for how to be a young man. She worried about him: that he wasn’t as bright as his sisters, that he hated school, that he would lose his way. The presence of her mother also pleased her, even though she required more attention and wasn’t terribly nimble as the family hiked through the Redwood Forest or wilted on the streets of Vegas. During the return trip, on an early morning after driving through the night, they descended to the plains of Montana. The children slept and Hope reached out and held Roy’s hand. “It’s been wonderful,” she said. “I wish we could just keep travelling.”

“You’ll be fine, Hope. The kids are happy to have you back.”

“It’s just so free out here. There aren’t any walls.”

Roy smiled, but he didn’t say anything more. He squeezed her hand. She knew that he was eager to get back to his business, his routines, and his regular breakfasts with the men. She knew that a trip like this exhausted him, that he tired of the children and her mother, and of her as well. He needed to return to the world once more and plow through it.

“I wonder what kind of man I would have been,” she said.

“You’re very strange sometimes, Hope.”

“Yes. That’s why you love me.”

“Yes. And because you’re a woman.”

“Do you, then? Love me?”

“What a silly question.”

And a voice called out from the back. It was Judith, who must have woken up and heard the last bit of their conversation. “You love her, Dad.”

Hope turned and saw that Judith’s eyes were closed again. Her head rested against her grandmother, who was sleeping. Conner’s head was in Judith’s lap. Melanie was stretched out on the hat rack, one of her arms falling across Judith’s chest.

“She’s talking in her sleep,” Hope said. “Sweet thing.”

The sun rose and the grassland, the tiny shrubs, turned from purple to orange to yellow. The sun was gigantic.

She sighed. “It makes you feel small, doesn’t it? I love it.”

Over the year that followed, there was a set date for Friday evenings when Roy and Hope tried to go out alone together for dinner or to a movie in Winnipeg, and on this evening Heidi took care of the children. Heidi’s brother, David, who was fifteen, often joined her on those Friday evenings, and together with the Koop children, they would make pizza and play games or watch television. One Friday evening Hope and Roy returned early from dinner because Roy was tired and feeling nauseated. He went straight to bed and Hope tidied the kitchen and then went down to the basement, where the children were watching TV.

“Where’s Penny?” she asked.

“Upstairs with David,” Judith answered. She looked at her mother and then looked away. Heidi was holding Melanie, who was now two.

Hope climbed the stairs to the second floor and went to Penny’s room and opened the door without knocking and found Penny lying on her bed without a blouse on. David had his hand on her stomach. He sat up quickly.

“Auntie Hope,” he said.

“What are you doing?” Hope asked. She moved forward and pulled David to his feet and pushed him backwards. She found Penny a blouse and gave it to her and said, “Put this on.” How had she not known this? Where had she been?

David was trying to explain. “She had a sore stomach, something she ate. That’s all.”

For a moment, because her husband was also suffering from nausea, and because Penny suffered stomach aches, Hope almost believed him, but then she shook her head and said, her voice firm, “She’s eight years old, David, and a sore stomach doesn’t require removing her top, and besides, Heidi could have been taking care of her.”

“Mom, it’s okay. It was nothing.” Penny was sitting up now, blouse back on, and she seemed so calm and insistent that Hope stepped back briefly, surprised by her own panic.

“I think you should go home, David. Okay?” She motioned to the door and David left immediately.

She went to sit beside Penny, who was, as usual, impenetrable. “Mom, you always make such a big deal of everything. It was nothing. David didn’t hurt me.”

“I didn’t say he did. Was there a possibility that he might hurt you? Did he threaten you?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Have you done this before? Spent time alone in your room with him?”

She shrugged.

“Did he touch you?”

“What if he did?”

“Oh, Penny.”

“He didn’t hurt me.” She began to cry, and Hope took her daughter in her arms and held her.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “You’re young. My goodness, you might have feelings for David, but he’s older, and he should know better.” She held Penny’s face between her two hands and waited until she had finished crying. She imagined the wretched possibilities. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

Penny’s eyes were large and wet. She didn’t answer.

“Down there?”

Penny nodded. She didn’t look away.

“With your pants on or off?”

Penny shrugged.

Perhaps she had no sense of what was right or wrong. She was far too young. It was probably presented as a game.

“Did you touch him?”

Penny nodded. “He said it was okay.”

“Were you afraid?” Oh my, what a question. Of course she wasn’t. And now she would be. Because her mother was making sex out to be a dirty fearful thing. “David is older, and he should be playing with older girls.”

“Like Judith?”

“Well, Judith would probably say no to David.”

Penny narrowed her eyes, considering this. Hope imagined that she might have felt special, and now the special feeling would be gone. Because of her.

Hope swallowed. “Did he put anything inside you?”

“No. No.”

“Did he try?”

“No, Mom. Why would he? He was very nice.”

“How long has he been nice?”

She shrugged. Finally looked away.

“He’s played with you before?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” She kissed the top of Penny’s head. “You’re a sweet good girl. Don’t worry.”

“You won’t tell anyone? Daddy? Or David’s parents?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please don’t.”

She paused, suddenly lost. She took Penny’s hand and patted it. “Should we make some popcorn? Can your stomach handle it?”

She nodded and then asked if she could eat the popcorn in her room. She didn’t want to go downstairs.

“Okay,” Hope said.

In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, Hope got up and went to Penny’s room. She was sound asleep, an old toy dog pinned under one arm. Hope leaned over and listened to her breathe. She stood there for a long time, then touched Penny’s head and went back to bed.

She did not sleep well and by morning had deduced that Penny was suffering as the result of her evenings with David. Since September and the beginning of school, Penny had experienced phobias and often had to be picked up by 10 a.m. because she had diarrhea or was vomiting. Also, Penny had taken to cleaning the house, waxing the kitchen floor, scrubbing the bathroom, and washing bedding. Poor thing. This would all certainly be related.