Invisible, as Music

by Caren J. Werlinger

  Henrietta was glad the room was still dark as she heard a hitch in Meryn’s breathing.

  “Nothing important,” Meryn said, but it came out barely more than a whisper.

  “Of course it’s important. You miss your family, and Thanksgiving is coming up.” Henrietta sighed. “I’m going to tell you something I promised I wouldn’t. Your mother called. They are coming here for Thanksgiving, and for your birthday.”

  Meryn straightened. “What?”

  “Now you must promise to be surprised when they arrive. I didn’t want to ruin it, but I can’t have you thinking they’ve forgotten you.”

  Meryn moved to sit beside Henrietta and clasped her hand. “Really? They’re coming here?”

  “They have reservations at the hotel in the village, but we’ll be having Thanksgiving dinner here. Your whole family.”

  “Thank you,” Meryn said, squeezing her hand gently. “For welcoming my family into your home.”

  It was Henrietta’s turn to have a hard time getting words out. “It’s your home, too. Of course they’re welcome.”

  Meryn bounded to her feet. “Dinner. What are you hungry for?”

  The girl’s change in mood nearly gave Henrietta whiplash. “You pick tonight.”

  “Pizza,” Meryn said immediately. “With pepperoni and mushrooms.”

  Henrietta immediately regretted letting the girl decide. “Make part of it cheese only.”

  “You got it.” Meryn led the way out to the living room. “I’ll pick it up and be back in a little bit.”

  Henrietta braced herself as Meryn threw her arms around her in a hug. “Thanks again, Hank.”

  The girl grabbed her jacket from the hall tree and hurried out of the house.

  Henrietta watched the headlights as they swept down the drive and out to the road. Rubbing her chest absently, she wondered again about the strange sensations there lately.

  “I really need to see the doctor,” she said, turning to go to the kitchen and get plates down.

  Chapter 10

  The next week flew by for Ryn. She caught only glimpses of Geary—wearing a splint on his left hand—but he was making himself scarce. Even Beverly reported that she hadn’t seen him other than in passing. By unspoken decree, Ryn kept her office door open, and Beverly found some excuse or other to pass by every fifteen minutes or so when Ryn was in there. If Talbert knew what had happened, he wasn’t letting on, and Ryn was certain Geary wouldn’t have admitted that he got caught trying to steal her work nor how he’d managed to hurt his hand.

  Her classes were going well. As with any requisite class, there were some students who were just taking up space and were probably going to fail, but more than half of her students in each class were excelling, including her unofficial history club, which had continued to delight her with their interest. When she offered extra credit, they dove in enthusiastically.

  For her part, she could barely contain her excitement at seeing her family in the coming week. She had to keep reminding herself it was supposed to be a secret, but she was so glad Henrietta had told her. She could laugh now at how silly she’d been, feeling so depressed and thinking they’d forgotten her, but it had been pretty real at the time.

  She was gathering up her lecture notes after her last class on Tuesday when Tamara knocked and came in as the students filed out.

  “Hi,” Ryn said. “Didn’t expect to see you. When we saw y’uns at church on Sunday, you said you were going home.”

  “I am,” Tam said. “I’m leaving now. Roberta and the others are leaving in a couple of hours. They’ll be at the motherhouse for the holiday.”

  She shifted her books from one arm to the other, looking nervous. “You’re not going home?”

  “No.” Ryn glanced at her watch and grinned. “My family is coming up here. They should be more than halfway by now.”

  Tamara nodded. She stared at the board, where Ryn had scribbled some extra tidbits on the Battle of Trenton.

  “Is something wrong?” Ryn asked, setting her papers on the desk.

  “No,” Tamara said quickly. “Not wrong. I just…” Her eyes met Ryn’s for just a second and then quickly back down at her shoes. “When we get back… I was wondering…”

  She was breathing hard considering she wasn’t doing anything. “Could we talk?”

  “Sure,” Ryn said slowly. “Care to give me any hints?”

  Tamara laughed nervously. “Here’s a hint.” She stepped closer and gave Ryn a kiss on the cheek.

  When Ryn’s mouth tried to form words, nothing came out. Tamara stepped back with a nod and nearly ran from the room.

  Ryn stood staring at the doorway, raising a hand to touch her cheek. In a daze, she picked up her books and almost floated out of the classroom. She’d already given Beverly her Thanksgiving card, so she headed straight to her car, eager to get home and make sure the house was as ready as it could be. She really hoped Henrietta would be okay with her loud, boisterous family invading her usually quiet space. It meant more than she could say that Henrietta had agreed to conspire with her mom to surprise her, even if it wasn’t a surprise any longer.

  When she got home, she made sure her room was picked up—she knew her mom would want to see it. With Bonnie’s weekly cleaning, it never really had time to get dirty or dusty, but she ran a dust cloth over the dresser and night stands anyhow.

  Out in the living room, she jumped up every time she heard a car.

  Henrietta, from her place on the couch, merely glanced up from the newspaper. “That’s not going to make them get here any sooner, you know.”

  “I know.” Ryn grinned sheepishly. “And, I know, I have to remember to be surprised.”

  “Which will be hard to pull off if you run out the door to greet them the second they arrive.”

  “You’re right.” Ryn forced herself to sit down and wait.

  When at last the Flemings pulled into the driveway, Henrietta said, “Stay.”

  Ryn chuckled but stayed put as Henrietta got to her feet and went to answer the doorbell. Ryn tried to pretend she was reading a section of the paper, but when her mom stepped inside, she couldn’t hold herself back.

  She jumped up and ran to her mother’s embrace. “What are you doing here?”

  June Fleming hugged her tightly. “You really didn’t know we were coming?”

  Ryn caught Henrietta’s eye over her mom’s shoulder. “I had no idea. What a great surprise!”

  She hugged her dad, Walt, next and introduced her parents to Henrietta. The twins, ganglier than she remembered, came in behind their dad. “This is Robbie,” she looked closely to be sure, “and this one is Roger.” She couldn’t believe how they’d grown. She greeted them with affectionate punches in the arm.

  “And this is my baby sister, Janie.”

  “You must be tired and hungry after your trip,” Henrietta said.

  “A little,” said June. “But if we could just freshen up, we insist on taking you out to dinner. Then we’ll check in at our hotel and leave you in peace until tomorrow.”

  A half hour later, they were seated at a large table in a restaurant in the village that Ryn had never been to, just a couple of doors down from the hotel. She made sure Henrietta sat next to her so she wouldn’t be left out as the conversation bounced around disjointedly. The boys were excited about their basketball season, and Janie was loving life at WVU, with plans to pledge a sorority—“and stay on campus,” she added with a worried glance at June—next semester.

  Ryn listened happily. She’d missed this so much. Her mom wanted to know all about Henrietta’s artwork. Ryn piped up when she thought Henrietta was being too modest.

  The twins polished off not only their food, but any leftovers on anyone else’s plate.

  “Two hollow legs on each of them,” June said, shaking her head. “I can’t keep enough food in the house.”

  When dinner was over, Ryn hugged everyone again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Walking t
o the car with Henrietta, she said, “Thanks again, Hank, for going along with this. This is the nicest birthday present I could have had.”

  Henrietta had retreated to her studio at Meryn’s urging.

  “I know you need some quiet time. It’s okay. We’ve got everything covered out here.”

  Wednesday morning, Denny had made his regularly scheduled delivery of groceries, except it was about three times as much food as usual. Bonnie was there to receive it, directing the placement of the boxes. She and June Fleming were busy in the kitchen, baking and laughing. Out in the front yard, the children—“it’s ridiculous to call those boys children,” she reminded herself—threw a football with Meryn while the younger girl sat curled up in a chair, reading.

  From the studio windows, Henrietta watched as Meryn’s father hung bird feeders up all over her back yard—with suet cakes, sunflower seeds and other mixes of feed to attract and feed the birds through the winter. He placed a couple just outside the studio windows, giving Henrietta a little wave.

  “I brought you several bags of feed to replenish them,” he’d said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I find this very relaxing at home.”

  All Henrietta really knew of the man was that he was an accountant but, as she watched him move about, there were already birds gathering in the branches, their little heads tilting as they watched and waited for him to leave so they could try out the new treats. Fascinated, she reached for her sketchpad as Walt sat in one of the lawn chairs, motionless. One by one, the birds braved his still presence to fly to the feeders, setting them rocking from their hangers, spilling some seeds on the ground, which got the attention of a few squirrels.

  Watching Meryn with her family, she saw that the girl favored her father, with her dark hair and eyes, more handsome than pretty. Someday, when her hair began to turn silver and she needed glasses like him, they would only make her look more distinguished. The younger sister was almost a copy of their mother, pretty and petite, with honey-blonde hair. The boys were a blend, but she could see something of the men they would become.

  Muted conversation came to her from the kitchen, and her eyes drifted to her latest painting—a summer scene of the pond. There, on the dock, were two small figures, one with copper hair glinting in the sunshine.

  Our house used to have laughter and lots of people… but that was the old house, the one they lived in before she got sick. This house, built for her as she was after the polio, had never known that kind of happiness. Though this house allowed her to be independent, it had also, in a way, become her prison.

  Her father had built it for her out of love—and guilt. Faced with their new reality of raising a daughter who had come home maimed, never to regain the mobility they had taken for granted or the future they had envisioned, her parents had done the best they could to make her life as easy as possible. It was comfortable, accessible—but I’m the one who turned it into a prison, she realized. Shutting herself off from people, especially after first her father, then her mother died; needing live-in companions but keeping them at a distance. Even her friends from the club weren’t friends in the real sense. She didn’t share confidences with them, didn’t invite them into her life, nor did she take part in theirs.

  Outside the studio, Meryn and the boys found their father, joining him to talk and point at the birds. She watched Meryn lay her hand on her father’s arm with such open affection—the same affection she shows me.

  As soon as that thought crossed her mind, there it was again, that strange constricting feeling in her chest. She rubbed her breastbone, taking a few deep breaths. She didn’t feel ill, but this was happening more frequently. Come Monday, she’d make an appointment with Dr. McCourt and see what was wrong.

  For now, she set her pad and pencil aside and went to the kitchen. “Can I help?”

  Bonnie turned around, her mouth open, but June brought a large bowl of green beans to the table.

  “If you could snap these, we’ll blanch them for dinner tomorrow.”

  She sat down in an adjacent chair to chop an onion. “I want to thank you for offering Ryn such a nice place to live. I wasn’t very happy about the boarding house she found originally. It sounded too much like a dormitory to me.” She looked around. “This is so much more like home.”

  Behind June, Bonnie was nodding and flapping her hands.

  Henrietta felt a flush creeping into her cheeks. “She’s been a delight to have around. I hope she’s happy enough to stay for a long time.”

  June smiled though she was blinking tears out of her eyes. “She seems happy. I’m afraid that means you’re part of our family now. We’ll have to have you down to visit this summer.”

  Henrietta tried to ignore Bonnie’s beaming face as she dabbed at her eyes with her apron.

  The weekend passed way too quickly for Ryn. Thanksgiving Day had been spent at the house—playing more football, exploring the pond. She and the boys walked all the way around to the dock and got in the old rowboat. Ryn made sure there weren’t any critters inside this time, but it was too cold for snakes or turtles. The edges of the pond were skimmed with ice. From the middle, as the boat bobbed, Ryn looked up at the house, clearly visible now through the naked trees.

  It made her ridiculously happy that Henrietta had welcomed her family into her home. Ryn knew her well enough now to know what a big deal it was—Bonnie had confirmed that, except for an occasional bridge gathering, Henrietta never had people to the house.

  Ryn had kept a close eye on things, looking for signs that anyone was getting on Henrietta’s nerves. She’d already warned everyone that the sofa was off-limits, though she was certain Henrietta wouldn’t lie down on it while they were there. The boys sprawled on the floor when they were inside, and Janie was content to sit in the chair that Ryn normally occupied and read. When Henrietta learned they were paying for two hotel rooms, she’d suggested Janie stay at the house, sleeping in the spare bed, which would allow the other Flemings to stay in one hotel room with two full beds.

  “Why pay for an extra room if they don’t have to?” Henrietta had said.

  So Ryn and her sister had stayed up late, talking. Janie told her all about WVU and which sorority she wanted to pledge—something completely beyond Ryn’s comprehension, but she was happy that Janie was happy.

  On Friday, the Flemings spent most of the day exploring Bluemont—“not that that took much time,” Ryn told Henrietta later. A light snow fell, making it feel very seasonal as they wandered through the village’s small downtown, going into several of the stores. She showed them the campus but, when her mom asked to see her office, Ryn was grateful the building was locked. She liked her broom closet, but it was a little shabby. Henrietta had insisted they all come back to the house for dinner Friday evening.

  “Meryn and I will never eat all of this food,” she said.

  There was little danger of leftovers lasting long enough to go bad with the twins at the table. June ordered the men to do the dishes, but Ryn stayed to supervise the drying and stacking, since they were still using Henrietta’s good china.

  On Saturday morning, she tried to talk Henrietta into joining them for breakfast in town.

  “You go,” Henrietta said. “Enjoy your last morning with your family. I’ll see you back here later. Please tell your family how nice it was to meet them, and thank your father again for all of the bird feeders.”

  It was hard to eat, knowing her family was leaving right after they finished, but Ryn’s heart was lightened a little when her mother said, “Remember, Christmas is only a few weeks away. Please invite Henrietta to come home with you.”

  “I will,” Ryn promised, but she knew Hank wouldn’t come.

  She waved them off, thanking them one last time for the new down jacket that they’d given her for her birthday. Blinking back tears, she drove home. When she entered the front door, she just stood there for a moment, listening to the quiet.

  “Meryn?”

  She followed Henrietta�
��s voice back to the studio.

  “They’re on their way back to Pennsylvania?”

  Ryn nodded. “Yeah.”

  She looked at what Henrietta was working on and smiled. The sketchpad was full of little drawings of birds. “My dad will be glad to know he gave you new things to paint.”

  “I had no idea they would be so entertaining.”

  Ryn went to the window and watched the activity at the feeders. “I think this is my dad’s therapy for being stuck in an office staring at numbers all day. I cannot imagine spending thirty or forty years of my life that way.”

  “You do what you need to for your family.”

  “I guess.” Ryn turned. “Thanks again for my art set. Are you still willing to teach me?”

  “I’ve already been thinking about it. Why don’t we begin after Christmas?”

  “Okay.” Ryn brightened. “Hey, can we decorate this weekend?”

  Henrietta stared at her. “Decorate?”

  “For Christmas. It’s officially the season.”

  Henrietta’s face flushed. “I don’t—”

  It was Ryn’s turn to stare. “You don’t decorate for Christmas? Not even a tree?”

  Henrietta turned her back, busying herself with the pencils lying on the counter. “It’s a lot of trouble, and there’s never been any need…” She paused. “We can, if you like.”

  Ryn frowned, picturing the layout of the house and wondering if there was an attic she hadn’t noticed. “Do you even have decorations?”

  “Probably in the basement.”

  “I didn’t know this house has a basement.”

  “Well, it does, and that is where they would be. But they haven’t been out of the boxes for years, so I have no idea what condition they’re in.”

  The door to the basement was off the breezeway leading to the garage. Ryn couldn’t believe she’d never noticed it. Judging from the cobwebs that caught at her face and hair on her way down the stairs, Henrietta was right. No one had been down here for ages. It was kind of like exploring in a grandparent’s house. Who knew what she’d find?