The Geometry of Sisters (33 page)

And then she figured it out. The morning of Beck's math competition, when they were all getting in the van to go to Providence, Maura caught sight of J.D. He had wheeled himself out onto the sidewalk to watch them go. Maura raised her hand to wave, turned to Katharine to make sure she saw him, and caught sight of the look in her sister's eyes.

Katharine was gazing at J.D., not with the warmth of friendship, but with the longing of a woman in love. That glimmer came back, the one Maura had felt on the phone eighteen years ago, when she'd wondered if both she and Katharine were in love with the same man. Everything clicked into place. The truth was right there in her sister's face; Maura stared for a few seconds, and then she had to look away.

Okay, this is how being completely distracted by my sister helped me to win the competition. The first thing is, I didn't care. I really didn't give anything close to a crap about winning. All I wanted to do was drive north, enter the city, and find Carrie. I know that sounds naive, but that's how we're connected. I felt as if I were within a certain distance from my sister, our DNA would start vibrating. We'd be like tuning forks, responding to each other.

Mr. Campbell chartered a big van, and we all piled in. My mother, brother, aunt, and a bunch of kids from school, including Redmond. Lucy and Pell couldn't come; they both wanted to, but their grandmother presided over some annual December tea and expected them to be there. That's okay. Although I'm not sure Travis felt the same way; I think he wished Pell were coming.

Redmond and I sat in the back seat. Up front my mother and aunt sat together. I liked watching their heads close together, whispering. I stared, and tried to make sense of something. I'd gotten a strange tuning-fork feeling about them just as we'd all boarded the
van—and it seemed to have something to do with that guy in the wheelchair, on the sidewalk in front of Blackstone Hall.

Maybe it was a sister thing, the quivery vibration I picked up from my mother and aunt. They were both looking at the guy, as if they knew him from a long time ago. Something about him made them both sad. I stared at the backs of their heads, just waiting for the troubled feeling to go away. And it did—once the van drove out the gates and headed for the bridge.

I'd brought a few pictures of my sister, and I showed them to Redmond as the van sped north. He stared at them, not asking what he was looking at. Finally he raised his big brown eyes, gave me a quizzical gaze.

“That's your sister,” he said.

“How can you tell?” Most people don't think we look that much alike.

“I'd know your sister anywhere,” he said.

“I told you about her, that she ran away.”

“I remember.”

“And that we think she's in Providence,” I said.

Redmond nodded and I turned to the window.

As we drove along, I watched intently. I wasn't sure how long it took to get to Providence, and I wanted to be ready to spot Carrie the minute we got within territory.

“Why would she be there?” he asked after a while.

I'd been wondering that myself. I knew Carrie better than anyone. If she'd come to Rhode Island to see Aunt Katharine, I could understand. But my aunt's farm was in Portsmouth, closer to Newport than Providence. So Carrie must have had some other reason. It hurt and confused me, to tell you the truth. To think of my sister having that big a secret.

“I don't know,” I said. “But I swear, I think I'm going to see her today.”

“Then I think that too,” he said.

“Do you really?” I asked. I appreciated his support, but what I really wanted was to know if he had a real sense of it or not. Redmond, for as much as I tease him, is full of intuition and insight about people and situations. I see him watching me, and this is going to sound strange, but I know he gets me. After such a short time, he really does. He would be a good psychologist or psychic.

“I want it because you do,” he said. “Because I know how much you want to see her.”

“Will you help me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes gleaming as if I'd just made him a Knight of the Round Table.

He took the photos from me, bending to look at them with such rapt attention he didn't even notice the big blue bug, a huge royal blue cockroach on top of a building and a favorite Rhode Island landmark, when we passed by.

The van drove us to Brown University, parked in front of the Rockefeller Library. “That's called ‘the Rock,’” Redmond told me, pointing at the library. Then as we crossed the street, “Those are the Van Wickle Gates.” Massive wrought-iron gates guarding the campus; we walked through, across the tree-shaded green toward a row of graceful buildings. Redmond grabbed my arm, pointed off to the right. I spotted a bell tower rising from the northwest corner of the green.

“That's Carrie Tower,” he said.

I thought he was kidding me, and wasn't sure how to take it. But he was looking so serious.

“Really?”

He nodded, and we pulled away from the Newport Academy pack to go closer. Made of red brick, decorated with stonework, classically adorned with carved fruit, urns, and shields, the tower looked about ninety feet tall. At the top was a clock.

“It was built for Carrie Brown,” Redmond said. “She was the granddaughter of Nicholas Brown, namesake of the university.”

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“She died,” he said, pointing. And then I saw the words inscribed on the base:
Love Is Strong as Death
.

I touched them with my fingertips. I thought of my father, and I felt Carrie, my sister, with me. Closing my eyes, I felt the warm mud of the lake bank, the sun on my face, the happiness of being beside her. We were about to get in that canoe. This clock tower would turn back time, and my father would be alive, and Carrie would be with us now.

She was with me now. I felt it, so surely, when I opened my eyes I was sure I'd see her standing right there. Students walked past, on their way to classes. Redmond gazed at me with huge brown eyes. My mother called my name. I left my hand on the letters as long as I could. I wanted Carrie to see the words, know that they were true. Love is strong as death. If Carrie knew that, if she really felt it, wouldn't she come home? Wouldn't she know that we grieved our father's drowning, but that our love for her, for them both, was giving us life, keeping us going?

“I need you, Carrie,” I whispered.

My mother walked over, put her arm around me. I pointed at the words written in stone. I felt her gaze at them, take them in. Then she led me toward Mr. Campbell and the rest of the group. Redmond walked alongside. We hurried through the campus, down the hill. I heard Mr. Campbell say the driver should have dropped us off closer, but I was glad he hadn't. I'd gotten to see Carrie Tower.

We found Kassar House, where the Department of Mathematics was located, at the corner of Thayer and George streets. By this time, all I could think about was Carrie. I heard Mr. Campbell giving me a pep talk, felt my mother's arm around my shoulders, saw Travis give me a thumbs-up, but my heart and mind were occupied by my sister. I glanced at Redmond, saw him looking around. Good. He'd memorized her face and was on the plan.

I went inside. The event was held in the Foxboro Auditorium in
the Gould Laboratory, and the seats were filled with teachers and supporters, students from other schools. The competition organizer escorted us to our places and introduced us to the crowd. He gave the rules. Ten questions, one hour.

Here's what I did: I raced through and got everything right. Trigonometry and simple linear algebra is nothing compared with ideas of love being stronger than death. I'd already proved that, so why mess around with the easy stuff? I won that competition just so I could get the hell out of that auditorium, back on the streets of Providence, to feel close to Carrie again. I wanted to run to the tower. While everyone in my group had lunch at the place Mr. Campbell had found, I wanted to return with Redmond to the tower. I wanted Carrie to be hiding behind it, about to step out into my arms.

Of course, I knew what was happening.

The magic Lucy and I had started, calling for our fathers, was working overtime. Now, with the help of the right angle created by the height of Carrie Tower, and the calculus of longing, and the geometry of love, I had conjured my sister. She might not really be there, I mean in a physical manifestation, but she was there in spirit.

Just like Mary and Beatrice, just like my father and Lucy's, the essence of my sister was always with me. Love, baby—stronger than death or running away. With me, in my heart, of me always. My sister. She helped me win the competition.

I did it for her.

On Carrie's days off, she sometimes took Gracie walking around the campus of Brown University. Her parents had both been teachers, and she'd grown up near Ohio State, and she found comfort in academic surroundings. On one of her walks she'd discovered Carrie Tower. The inscription had hit her so powerfully, it sometimes felt engraved on her heart. She'd walk around the tower and think of
her dad. Think of how she'd let him down, how she wished she could have saved him.

This early December day she bundled up Gracie, pushed her in the stroller Dell had given her up Waterman Street, straight toward the campus. The air was cold, wind blowing off the water, and people had started to decorate the colonial houses for Christmas. Evergreen wreaths and garlands filled the air with pine scent.

Carrie's heart felt heavy. She thought of her family, how they had always celebrated the holidays. Their decorations hadn't been fancy or extravagant, just special little touches to fill the house with cheer and light. Her mother had a box of ornaments, passed down from her grandmother, that her aunt had sent long ago. Early each December, her mother would pull them out, let the girls and Travis decorate the house. Carrie remembered placing two china carol singers on the mantel, seeing her mother start to cry. They reminded her of Aunt Katharine, of when they were young.

Carrie pushed Gracie along, wondering whether her mother had found Aunt Katharine again. They were both here in Rhode Island, so wouldn't they have done that? But proximity wasn't the same as closeness. Families got destroyed by simple hurts, broken hearts, things too terrible to understand or talk about. It was times like this that Carrie took a cynical view of the words
Love Is Strong as Death
. No. Sometimes love wasn't strong enough at all.

Gracie was asleep. This often happened on their long walks. Lulled by the movement, she drifted off. Carrie pushed the stroller gently, trying not to hit any bumps. She got to the tower, stood in its lee, let it block the wind. She looked up toward the clock. Time was passing so fast. She wanted her family.

Moving along, she headed toward Thayer Street. The college kids were getting ready for exams, finishing their papers before heading home for the holidays. She felt excitement in the air, a sense of hurry and purpose. Glancing down at her sleeping baby, she felt as far from a college kid as she could get.

But she did feel pressure in her chest, almost as if she had a big test hanging over her head. She felt as if she needed to cram, study all night, finish her work so she could get home. It reminded her of high school, when her biggest worry had been to pass exams and write good term papers, make her parents proud. Her parents would never be proud of her again. Her father was dead, and what would her mother think of the part Carrie had played in that?

The shops were decorated with red and green ornaments, strands of white lights. Speakers piped Christmas carols. Gracie suddenly woke up, squawked happily. Carrie felt so glad for her daughter's company. She crouched by the stroller, reaching into the pouch for a bottle.

Carrie's stomach rumbled. She felt so hungry, wished she had money to buy a sandwich. People jostled past, and she overheard them talking about a math competition, celebrating the winner. She glanced up, just in time to see them enter Andrea's, the restaurant on the corner. The sight was such a shock, she dropped Gracie's bottle in the street as she stood by the plate glass window and stared in.