The Geometry of Sisters (40 page)
Read The Geometry of Sisters Online
Authors: Luanne Rice
“Where are we going?” she asked, ignoring his question.
The car skidded; he held the wheel, wondering how much to tell
her. He'd been afraid for her ever since seeing her react to J.D.'s news. The wild look in her eyes, the way she'd run off. Then the incident with Mrs. Nicholson, and finding Beck sitting by the pool, coiled as if she was about to jump in.
“You scared me up there,” he said.
“I wasn't going to kill myself,” she said.
“I know you're upset about what happened,” he said.
She shrugged. “I'll probably get expelled, but I don't really care.”
“First of all, I won't let anyone expel you. But that's not what I'm talking about,” he said after a moment.
“J.D.?” she asked.
“Yes. He's sorry for what you heard,” he said.
“Grownups keep too many secrets,” she said after a moment. “They think we can't handle what's real. But guess what? We can't handle what's not.”
“I'll try to remember that,” he said as he angled through the Newport streets, down past the White Horse Tavern. They drove slowly along Farewell Street, between the two graveyards. His gaze flickered, and he turned the wheel hard to avoid hitting a girl running across the street. “Did you see that?” he asked Beck.
“I think so,” she said, peering through the snow into the Common Ground Cemetery. “Look, there she is!”
Stephen slowed the car. They pulled over to the curb, staring past the black iron gates. He felt a shiver go down his spine, gazing through the falling snow at the tall white marble mausoleum.
“Who is it?”
“I think it was just a gust of wind,” he said. “Blowing snow across the road…”
She kept staring through the iron fence, and so did he. The snow fell heavily, obscuring the Langley family crypt. Had that been Mary? Stephen's scalp tingled, the way it always did when he thought he'd seen her at Blackstone Hall. The spirits were out tonight.
“What are we doing here?” she asked after a moment.
“Waiting,” he said, checking his watch. J.D. had said they'd be there in forty minutes, and they were right on time.
“For what?” she asked.
He looked up, and saw Angus's van moving down the ramp of the Newport Bridge, merging onto Farewell Street, heading straight for them. Beck leaned forward, the palms of her hands on the dashboard, staring into the van windows, right into her sister's face.
“Oh my God,” she said.
25
TRAVIS NEEDED TO BE OUT SEARCHING IN THE storm. He had put on his warmest clothes, the boots his father had given him before they went ice fishing two winters ago, and looked everywhere he could think of. Beck had always loved secret hiding places. Back home in Ohio he'd known all her spots. But here, in Newport, he'd been so busy settling in, he realized he barely knew anything of how it had been for Beck.
He checked around Angus's guardhouse, the maintenance sheds, the athletic center. Snow and sleet blew into his eyes, making them water. He skirted the cliff, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere near it: she hated the water, that hadn't changed. The snow was piling up fast, covering everything in a thick white blanket.
“Beck!” he yelled, again and again.
No response, just the silence of the school. The lights burned brightly in the dorms; everyone was studying, getting ready for end of term. He had work of his own to do—History, English, Calculus— but none of that mattered unless he found Beck.
He made his way to the long-abandoned root cellar. He'd been there only once, early in October, with two guys he never hung out with—Loring Donay and Nick Williams, after a History test.
Most of his friends were athletes, and these guys weren't. They were both rich, from New York, kind of intellectual and artsy, in a different crowd than the football team. But Travis had gone along.
Despite all their success and outward friendliness, he hadn't
really felt accepted by the guys, not the way he had been with his teammates in Columbus. Maybe the heroics were even part of it, although he always put the team first. Chris and Ty hung around together, included him as an afterthought. So when Loring invited him to hang out after the test, Travis had said sure, even though the blond hair and black turtleneck seemed a little lame, and heading down to a root cellar seemed completely stage-set.
They'd brought weed and beer, sat around talking in almost total darkness. According to them, fifty years ago, a select group of Newport Academy students had started a secret society called
Quo Vadis
, Latin for “Where are you going?” and held their meetings in the cellar. Travis had listened, trying to ignore the smell of mold and old carrots and potatoes.
He had gotten the strange sense Loring and Nick were feeling him out, to see how he felt about such things—as if maybe the secret society still existed and they were testing to see if he was the right material, if he'd want to join. There was no light down there—they'd used a lantern. It had thrown spooky light on the stone walls, and he'd seen a skull and candle on a table. It had seemed so dumb and childish to him. He'd finished his beer, thanked them, and left—feeling lonelier than before.
Standing there now, he cleared away the snow that had drifted against the battered wooden door. He pounded hard with his fists, calling his sister's name. The padlock was new, but the rusty iron fittings attached to the door were old; the screws that held them in place were loose. He knew he could break them in a second if he had to. But Beck wasn't here.
As he turned away from the old cellar door, he knew he was looking in the wrong place. His sister wasn't hiding. She was doing something. That was Beck all over—even when she seemed to be still, her mind was working.
She'd been thinking about Carrie—they all were. But Beck would
have been calculating ways to rearrange the molecules so that Carrie would come home, or Beck would go to her. Sister magnets.
The paths hadn't been cleared yet, so he trudged through the snow, wondering where to go next. His legs were so tired, and his spirit felt weighted down. Walking in front of Blackstone Hall, he considered going inside to warm up for a minute, maybe check through the big building again, when he heard his name.
Turning, he saw Pell coming around the corner with Chris and Tyler.
“Hey,” Chris said as they walked over to him. “Where do we look?”
“Look?” Travis asked.
“For Beck,” Ty said. “We want to help you find her.”
“Where do we go next?” Chris asked.
“I've pretty much checked campus,” he said.
“And the wharf area is covered….” Ty said.
“What do you mean?” Travis asked.
Chris glanced over at him, eyes puzzled. “Didn't you know? Ty and I went down there as soon as we heard. Pretty much the whole football team has been searching for her.”
“We'll find her,” Ty said.
Travis couldn't speak. He met Pell's eyes as he felt the universe tilting. He was losing his family, one person at a time. His father, Carrie, now Beck. But Pell was here, and so were his friends.
“Come on,” Chris said, with a light pat on his shoulder. “Let's get out there.”
Pell didn't speak, but she touched Travis's arm.
And they started the search all over again, together.
Maura and Katharine sat together at the kitchen table. Katharine had brought food, but no one had felt like eating. Maura wanted to be in the car, out looking for Beck. But the roads were terrible, and
J.D. had called, told her to stay close to home, that she needed to be there, but wouldn't tell her why.
“I can't stand this,” Maura said, jumping up yet again to look out the window over the sink. “Look at it out there … The storm's getting worse, and Beck's all alone in it. We have to go find her.”
“Travis is out searching the campus,” Katharine said. “Everyone is. And you know the police, Stephen, Angus, and—”
“It's not enough,” Maura said, going to the closet and pulling out her winter coat. She wriggled into it, pulled on her boots, and jammed a hat onto her head.
Katharine was right behind her. There was no way she would let her sister go out alone in the storm. They walked outside, making sure to leave the door unlocked in case Beck came home on her own. The school grounds were pure white. Heavy snow blew off the sea, covering the lawns and flowerbeds, coating the east side of every tree, branch, and building, drifting along the roads.
Maura had no idea where to look. She headed along the main drive, out toward the stone pillars and school entrance. Could Beck be holed up somewhere on campus? Would any of her friends help her hide, not grasping what it was doing to her mother, her family? She glanced over at Blackstone Hall. The fourth floor was dark.
“What have I done?” Maura asked. “I feel as if I've destroyed everything.”
“I know that's not true,” Katharine said, putting her arm around Maura as they trudged through the deep snow. Maura leaned into her sister, holding on to her support and warmth like lifelines.
In the distance, they saw headlights. A car and a van were coming along Cliff Avenue, moving slowly. The car fishtailed, then swerved.
Maura held her breath. For a minute she thought it was going to crash, and she thought suddenly of Mary Langley of how it must have been a storm like this that had sent her carriage over the cliff, into the sea. How could people be out on a night like this? Didn't
they know the dangers? The suffering that an accident would bring to the people who loved them? If they had any idea of that, they would all go home to their families.
As Maura stared, the car went into a snowbank just before the school entrance, barely missing the granite pillars. She let out a long sigh of relief. The driver tried to get out of the drift, spinning the car's wheels.
“Should we help them?” Katharine asked.
Maura nodded, and they started toward the car. Just then the passenger door opened. Maura saw two people piling out; she wondered if they were students. Friends of Beck and Travis's, children in Maura's classes at school. Wordlessly she and Katharine made their way through the curtain of white to help. She thought of their mothers, wherever they might be.
“Mom!”
For a second she thought it was Beck, and her heart stopped.
“Sweetheart!” she called out. But she saw her daughter tearing toward her, holding a baby in her arms, calling “Mom, Mom,” over and over again—it was another familiar, beloved voice, and she hadn't heard it for over a year.
Maura cried out, started to run.
“Carrie!” Maura's arms were around her oldest daughter in a second. They held on to each other, rocking, sleet stinging their faces and mixing with their tears. They shielded the baby between them, Maura embracing them both.
“This is Gracie,” Carrie said.
“You have a daughter,” Maura said.
“Mom…” Carrie began. Maura heard apology, confusion, despair in Carrie's voice. They had so much to talk about and understand, but none of it mattered then—Carrie was home, and they were together.
“We have to get her, both of you, inside,” Maura said.
“Stephen's car…” Carrie began, and Maura turned to see.
Yes, it was Stephen's little red Panda, and Katharine had climbed behind the wheel as Stephen and someone else stood in front of the car, pushing it out of the snowbank. Maura would know the back of that head anywhere.
“Beck!” Maura called, feeling a surge of joy.
“Hang on, Mom,” Beck said, heaving her shoulder against the hood as Katharine eased the car backward, out of the drift. Arms around her oldest daughter and granddaughter, Maura helped them walk through the snow, back to the car.
Stephen flashed a grin, opening the car door to let them inside.
“I don't know how to thank you,” Maura said, catching his hand.
“I'd give anything to take credit,” he said.
“J.D. found me, Mom,” Carrie said. “He brought me home to you.”
Maura saw the van, idling behind the red car. She saw the window roll down, J.D. sitting inside. She stared at him.
“You did this,” she said.
“Carrie was on her way,” he said.
“But you…”
J.D. glanced behind her. Maura turned, saw Beck staring at him with stony eyes. Maura knew she felt he'd ruined her family even before she was born.
“Go home, be with your kids,” he said, meeting Maura's eyes. “Gracie needs to get warm.”
But Beck walked straight to the open window, stuck her hand inside. “Thank you,” she said, and Maura watched as the cold look in Beck's eyes turned to warmth.
J.D. shook Beck's hand. “You don't have to thank me,” he said.
“But I do,” she said. “We were apart, and now we're together.”
And Maura stood beside her sister, her arm around Carrie and Gracie, hearing Beck's words so strong and clear, and she knew that she had never heard anything so true.
W
EPILOGUE
IT'S MARY LANGLEY DAY, A SCHOOL HOLIDAY, THE anniversary of Mary's death. Feels so strange, a whole school commemorating a death when it feels as if our family has just come back to life. Carrie and Gracie have been with us a week now. Having them come home was the best Christmas present anyone could ever dream of.
The snow is beautiful. White, thick, filled with these ridiculously lovely ice crystals that make everything sparkle like a Christmas card. The sun gleams behind dark clouds, throwing molten silver on the surface of the rough, gray sea. I can't stop staring at the water right now. It started the night my sister came home, when I put my feet in the pool. Later, driving home from the bridge, when Mr. Campbell's car slid into the snowbank, we met my mother on the road. I saw my mother hugging Carrie, and I heard the waves crashing, and I shook J.D.'s hand. And I stopped being afraid.
Redmond says he'll take me out whale watching next summer. There are boats that leave right from Boston Harbor. I laugh, because I can't wait. A week ago, I would have preferred life imprisonment to having to go anywhere on a boat. Life takes some peculiar twists and turns, I think you'll agree.
Everything's going my way. It's pretty remarkable. Here's what's happening this afternoon. The whole school is gathered on the cliff—snow boots, ski parkas, knitted hats, mittens, and all—to
remember Mary Langley. Angus has brought a huge wreath—it's a tradition he follows every year—to throw into the sea at the exact spot where Mary's carriage tumbled in.
Mr. Shannon, the teachers, the whole school board, people from Newport join the ceremony. It's rather solemn. A bagpipe plays. I am standing with Lucy and Redmond, looking across the crowd at my mother, Aunt Katharine, Carrie, and Gracie. Dell Harwood, a woman who helped Carrie, is here, along with some of the girls from Hawthorne House.
J.D. is beside my mother. He's part of this, part of our lives. I'll say it, even though I have mixed emotions: he is part of our family. The truth is the truth, no matter how you feel about it.
I keep thinking about that great night—when Carrie came home, and the snow was still falling, and J.D.'s garage apartment had lost power and so did our carriage house, and we all wound up staying in Blackstone Hall. I don't think any of us, except Gracie, slept for even a minute that night.
Angus built a roaring fire in the massive marble fireplace, and we pulled the sofas close, and put sleeping bags on the big red Oriental rug, and felt how amazing it was to have Carrie and Gracie with us. J.D. waited for the right moment, when he saw me looking over at him, to gesture me over. I could have turned my back, pretended not to see. But something made me cross the floor to him. I think it had to do with how peaceful Carrie seemed—as if something in her life had just been solved.
“Hi, Beck,” he said.
“Hi, J.D.”
“Are you okay?”
“I'm better than that. I'm good,” I told him. “When I shake hands, I mean it. Ask anyone. You found Carrie for us.”
I saw his gaze slide to my mother. She was watching from across the room, sitting quietly beside Carrie and Gracie. It hurt to see my
mother look at another man that way, and I thought of my father. It still tears me apart, the truth of what happened in our family, and probably always will. For a long time, anyway. I briefly considered stealing J.D.'s gloves after he fell asleep.
But those days are over, and I decided to let it be. As I told J.D., I'm good. Lucy and I have made major strides in our quest for infinity. Soon we'll find our fathers. Our breakthrough involves a proof I worked on. I won't bore you with the details, but we are
well
on our way.
So much so, Mr. Campbell took my case to the board. He met with them in secret. I'll never know what he said, but I have the feeling it had to do with my sorry background. I do know I had to give permission for my psychologist in Columbus to fax a letter. I guess she explained to them the stuff I went through that made me steal. Whatever she said, they voted to not expel me.
And to let me go to the nationals in Boston this coming week.
The biggest surprise: guess who spoke up for me? Mrs. Nicholson! I have no idea why she had the change of heart, but Mr. Campbell said she was adamant. She said, “People deserve second chances. I've missed opportunities to give them before, and I don't want to miss this one. Let Rebecca go to Boston.”
There she is now, standing in a knot with her fellow board members. Mrs. Nicholson's mink is ruffled by the sea wind; you can see the little dead creatures on her back, their fur zinging in the breeze. Her pearls match the snow. I want to go over and thank her, but she is staring with strange, shimmering hope, and I'm not exaggerating, at my brother.
Travis. He's the one member of my family who's not totally happy right now. He's standing with Pell. She is going away. Either for Christmas, or for the summer. Lucy told me the whole story. Pell is going to Italy. She's traveling over to see their mother—the first time they'll have spent a holiday together since Pell was six.
It's also the first time Lucy will be without Pell in her whole life, and she's dreading it. Her sleeplessness is worse than ever.
It's not as if Pell is running away, and I'll help Lucy. There are algebraic ways of bringing the lost back home. Then there are the more straightforward methods: Pell's going straight to her mother, to get to know her and tell her that she and Lucy need her.
She told Lucy she's not coming back without their mother. I think, although I'm not sure, that that explains the weird, shimmering hope in Mrs. Nicholson's eyes. I think she's giving Travis silent kudos for setting the ball in motion.
I get that, I do. Lucy says that Pell was so inspired by Travis and our family, by the way we pulled together after such a big break, the way we couldn't stay apart. Lucy said it hit Pell hard the night Carrie came home. Apparently she and Travis had quite a talk. He asked why she wouldn't go to Italy to see their mother.
I guess he was thinking of how Aunt Katharine came back into our lives—how hard she tried to heal the rift, to give my mother what she wanted more than anything: her daughter back. Travis told Pell the whole story then, as they looked for me in the snow, about Aunt Katharine and my mother.
I think Pell began to develop her own notion of seeking… of leaving a comfortable life to go in search of the person you need more than anyone else, the one you believe will make you whole; Travis's story of our family, of what it took to get us all back together—even, in a strange way, J.D.'s lighthouse on the island— took hold of her soul, shook her out of accepting something that was so wrong.
See, the Davises have been split up a long time. It was one thing for us to miss knowing our aunt. Imagine how Pell and Lucy feel, missing their mother. Mrs. Nicholson is the matriarch of a family suffering with demons—I have the feeling many of them are her own. She's not easy, but she's smart. And I think she somehow understands that Travis and our family's story may help hers.
I gaze at my brother. He is right beside Pell, staring down at her. Her attention is focused on the sea, all the way across the water, as if she is looking over to Italy, trying to imagine what her mother was doing, what awaits her there.
I've seen Pell talking to Travis, watching him at every game. I know she saw me steal that emerald earring, and I know she was the one who returned it to Lucy. I know Pell has helped my brother through the breakup with Ally, and I realize that she's been holding back her own feelings for him, waiting until they are both ready. She is wise, and has a certain stillness I've never seen in a girl about our age. I look up to her and I feel proud to think that she learned something from us—from Travis. And I know, from the bottom of my heart, why she has to make this journey. It makes me respect her all the more.
The sun dips down behind Blackstone Hall, and the sky darkens. Mr. Shannon gives a signal and the academy lights up, illuminated by thousands of tiny white Christmas lights. I've never seen anything like it before. I must have gasped, because Redmond squeezed my hand.
Now Angus bends down and picks up the huge evergreen wreath. One lucky student will get to throw it into the sea for Mary. I've heard students whispering, that usually Mary and Beatrice let their presence at the ceremony be known by some sort of mischief: one year the lights didn't go on, another year Mr. Shannon's scarf twirled off his neck and blew into the waves, and once a gust of wind caught the wreath and nearly pulled the student throwing it over into the sea.
But this year, things seem quiet. I catch my sister's eye. She is beaming, as if she knows something. Maybe she is thinking of next semester, when she'll be enrolled as a student. Or perhaps she is dreaming of the future, when Gracie can go to school here.
Mr. Campbell walks over.
“Beck,” he says, “will you and Lucy please come with me?”
I freeze. “Did I do something wrong?” What if Mrs. Nicholson changed her mind again? I'm set on going to the competition, proving myself, making my school proud. Seeing the town with Redmond, and kicking Boston math butt.
“No,” he says, smiling. “You've done something good.”
Lucy beams, and together we walk through the snow. The crowd parts for us. I hear Gracie laughing, and I swear she is saying “Beck!” It makes me laugh too, or maybe this is just how it feels to be really, really happy.
When we get to the cliff's edge, I look down. The waves are dark and swirling, topped with frothy white edges as they advance, break, and split apart. One wave after another, eternally. I think of Mary. She died in the water, just like my dad. I hope that they are at peace; I want them to know that I will never stop trying to make a connection.
Mr. Campbell puts his arm around my shoulders, and Angus comes stomping over with the wreath.
“Here,” Angus says, giving me a big smile under his walrus mustache.
“What?” I ask.
He pushes the wreath into my and Lucy's arms.
“Give it a good throw,” he says. “You'll be sending it into the wind, so make sure you put all your strength into it.”
“But…” I begin.
I'm a disgrace, I was nearly expelled, I stole your keys
.
Angus pats me on the head. “Mary's sleeping,” he says. “For the first time since I've worked at this school, she and Beatrice are at rest. I don't know how to explain that, but I have the feeling it has to do with all of you being together here. All you sisters.”
I look around, and my mother, Aunt Katharine, Carrie, and Gracie have come to stand with us. So has Pell. Lucy and I hold the wreath between us. Pell and Carrie flank us on either side. Four sisters
paying our respects to Mary while two more—my mother and aunt—stand behind us with the baby.
“To Mary” Lucy says.
“And don't forget Beatrice,” I say.
The wind blows into our faces, straight across the sea from Italy. It is cold and full of salt. We taste the sea. The bagpipe plays “Adeste Fideles.” It sounds so sweet. Angus and Mr. Campbell count to three. We wind up, and with all our might send the wreath spinning into the air. It twirls once, twice. For a second it seems to rise, as if it has sprouted wings, as if it is about to fly away all on its own.
“Mary,” I whisper.
I know mischief when I see it. She might as well have materialized, shown herself, sung the carol along with our school. Because I know she is here with us.
The evergreen wreath lifted a little more, then swooped down the rocky cliff into the sea. We stand there, all us sisters, staring down and watching it disappear into the cold, cold waves. But I am not sad.
Because, you see, I know: some things are forever. It's pure math.
And then we turn back, our faces to the crowd, who come to greet us and embrace us and remind us where we belong: at school, on earth, in life, with the people who loved us then and love us now and will always love us forevermore.
