She’d grown to love that girl. This will not do.
From the den, the sound of a college bowl game drifted to Ryn, along with her brothers’ voices. Her father was out in the yard, hanging a new bird feeder he’d received for Christmas. Ryn watched him through the picture window in the living room where she sat. The sky was a flat, dull gray. It looked like it might snow. The living room was mostly in shadow, except for the tiny, bright lights on the Christmas tree. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against one of the stuffed chairs that matched the couch, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. Beside her lay a drawing pad with some very amateurish sketches.
It had been such a great Christmas with her family. She and Janie had commandeered the TV to watch The Sound of Music, curled up together under the same blanket, as they’d done for years. They’d heard from all of the relatives who lived in Ohio and Florida now.
She had another two weeks before classes started back up, but she felt restless and irritable. She’d been trying to get into a new book, The Name of the Rose, which, any other time, would have completely absorbed her to the neglect of everything and everyone, but she couldn’t concentrate.
Vanessa’s pale, drawn face kept intruding into her thoughts. Ryn had practically worn a path, pacing in the waiting room of the women’s clinic. When Vanessa had emerged, she’d spoken two words. “It’s done.” The ride back to Bluemont had been silent. When Ryn dropped her off at Mrs. Middleston’s, Vanessa had stopped her from walking her inside.
“I’m fine. My parents are coming to get me tomorrow. Thank you.”
Watching her walk into the boarding house, Ryn couldn’t help feeling that the girl she’d thought of as Shirley Temple was gone forever.
Adding to her irritation was the fact that her day with Vanessa had cost her her last opportunity to see Tamara before they all left the village for the semester break.
“I… I can’t,” Ryn had said when Tam had finally called her to see if they could have lunch before she left for Cuba. “I promised a friend… I can’t.”
She couldn’t say more, not even to dispel the disappointment in Tamara’s voice when she said good-bye.
But even more than Tamara, her thoughts kept drifting to Henrietta—wondering how she was doing, what she was doing, if she was eating and sleeping okay in the empty house. She doubted Henrietta would go into her room for anything while she was gone, but she’d hidden the letters in her duffel and brought them with her, just in case.
“Here you are.”
Ryn looked up when her mom entered the living room.
June sat behind her in the chair and tousled Ryn’s hair. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“What makes you think I’m thinking about things?”
June chuckled. “Because you’ve been thinking about things since you were three years old and you asked me what we would look like to the people living in the stars.”
Ryn smiled, but it quickly faded.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been so quiet since you got home.”
Ryn hesitated. “I know you and Dad love us, but… If, say, Janie, got into trouble, got pregnant and wanted an abortion, what would you do?”
She twisted around to look into her mom’s eyes. “And no, it’s not me. Someone I know at the college.”
June pursed her lips as she thought. “I don’t need to tell you what the church’s stance is on that, even though it’s legal. And I have to say, I would have a hard time not grieving the life that never had a chance, but… I don’t believe anyone but the woman and God have the right to make that decision.”
Ryn draped an arm over her mom’s knee. “I took her. My friend. To the clinic. I asked her to wait and think about it, but she’s afraid to face her parents.” She paused. “She’s a year younger than Janie. And I don’t think her life will ever be the same.”
“It won’t.” June laid her hand on Ryn’s head. “She’ll live with that decision for the rest of her life.”
They sat quietly for a long time before Ryn said, “The man responsible is the other professor in my department. And I don’t think this is the first time. It’s so wrong, but our department chair won’t do anything about it. I feel so powerless.”
“You’re never powerless if you hold to the strength of your convictions.”
Ryn met her mom’s eyes again. “It will probably cost me my job.”
June nodded. “It might.”
“And any prospect for a good reference. I may not get another teaching position.”
“That’s a possibility.” June brushed her fingers over Ryn’s cheek. “Your room here will always be ready if you need it.”
Ryn tried to smile but couldn’t. She turned back to the tree. “Thanks, Mom.”
As if magic elves had been at work, it seemed that as soon as New Year was past, all signs of the holidays just disappeared from the village. The spirals of artificial garland that had wrapped street lamps, the merry strands of lights that had adorned the village square, the tinny sound of Christmas carols that had shoppers humming along as they wandered the sidewalks—it was all just gone.
This is the hard part, Henrietta thought as she drove through town. Now that the holiday hubbub was over, everyone hunkered down for the rest of the long winter. The country club closed down for two weeks every year to give the staff a break after the crazy holiday catering and party season, so there was no bridge yet. Not that Henrietta was all that eager to see those women.
It was odd how impatient Henrietta had become with their insipid conversation and vicious gossip. She’d never really enjoyed it—she didn’t shop for the latest fashions in clothing, and her hair had been worn in the same style for decades, so she had little in common with them in those regards—but they had been her only social circle. Now, though, when she tried to bring up topics like current politics or the failure of the ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment—things she’d enjoyed debating with Meryn—the others quickly changed the subject.
Since Christmas and New Year had been on weekends this year, it felt to her with the start of the week almost as if there hadn’t been a holiday. She wondered, as she searched for a parking space that was completely cleared of snow, if it seemed that way to people who worked.
Bonnie kept telling her her art was her work, but it didn’t feel like work to Henrietta, not like sitting in an office. She couldn’t imagine anything duller, but she supposed some people found comfort in that routine. Working with the same people, earning a steady paycheck—the familiar. That—the need for the steady and the familiar—she knew and understood, knew only too well what a trap it could become. Already, in less than two weeks since Meryn had been gone, she’d been aware that she was falling back into the snare of her routine.
The only thing that had been different had been having the piano tuned.
“What a nice surprise this will be for Meryn,” Bonnie had said delightedly.
Henrietta hadn’t said she was doing it for Meryn, but she was right, Henrietta thought when she sat and touched the keys later.
She found a parking space and made her way to the art store. “Hello, Sandy.”
“Miss Cochran! I mean, Henrietta. Happy New Year.” Sandy came around from behind the counter. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you for doing such a nice job wrapping the art kit at Thanksgiving. It was lovely.”
Sandy beamed. “You’re most welcome.”
“And I need some new colors. I’ve begun doing some paintings of birds, and I find I don’t have colors vivid enough for some of them. I hadn’t realized how subdued most of my landscapes are. I suppose I’m as dull as my paintings.”
“You’re nothing of the sort. Neither are your paintings. But you don’t need the same colors for those different types of work. I just bought a new line of oils, over here. I think you’ll want oils for birds. The gleam of the paint will set off the subject nicely.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “And maybe some watercolors,
too, if you’re sketching.”
She led Henrietta to the oil paints and left her to browse. She brought a basket to set on the floor.
“Just place your selections in here.”
“Thank you.”
Henrietta wandered the aisle, scooting the basket with her crutch. The shop was small, but nicely stocked. She picked up a few new brushes and some turpentine. When she was done, Sandy collected the basket for her.
“You know, Henrietta, I hope you won’t mind, but…” Sandy glanced at her hesitantly. “I was thinking it would be nice to showcase your work. You’re a local artist, and most of the village knows you paint, but so few people have seen any of your art.”
Henrietta stood there a moment. Her surprise must have shown on her face. “My work?”
Sandy nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t have the space here to do it justice, but I’ve been talking to Maxine. Maxine Adams at the library? They’re very interested. What do you think?”
She waited as Henrietta thought.
“Do you really think… Will people want to see my work?”
Sandy smiled. “Of course they will!”
“But most of my canvases aren’t framed.”
“I’ll frame some for you at cost, and we can leave others unframed. It will add interest to the exhibit.” She bagged Henrietta’s purchases. “So you’re willing?”
Henrietta gave a noncommittal nod. “I suppose so.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! It will give the village something to look forward to this winter. I’ll talk to Maxine again. May we call upon you, say next week sometime?”
“Yes.”
“Here, let me carry these out for you.”
A few minutes later, Henrietta drove home in a daze. It was one thing for gallery reps to come calling, whisking some of her paintings away to distant cities where no one knew her—and where you don’t have to see them laugh at the village cripple’s pitiful work.
There had always been a sense of safety in her anonymity, but this suggestion—a local showing of her work, here where everyone knew who she was—this was terrifying.
“Why in the world did you say yes?”
She very nearly turned the car around to go back and tell Sandy she’d changed her mind.
“Don’t you dare.”
The voice that had popped into her head wasn’t her mother’s, or loyal Bonnie’s, or any of her so-called friends. It was Meryn’s voice she heard, urging her out of her comfort-zone. With another of those odd tremblings in her chest, she drove home to experiment with the new pigments.
By the time Ryn turned off I-86 near Cortland, her butt was numb and she needed to pee.
Saying good-bye to her folks had been hard, but the boys were in school, and her dad was back at work. She and Janie had helped her mom take down the tree and put all the Christmas decorations away right after the Epiphany. Then the restlessness had hit.
“I’m worried about Henrietta being alone all this time,” she’d said.
“Of course you should go.” June had pulled her into a hug. “Give Henrietta our best.”
The drive seemed to be taking longer than she remembered. Mostly because Henrietta wasn’t the only one she was worried about.
“Filled your tank and emptied mine,” Ryn said to Nelly after a quick stop.
Some fresh snow had fallen, but the roads were plowed and dry. Nelly made good time.
When she arrived in Bluemont, she twitched the steering wheel away from Country Club Road. Parking in front of the boarding house, she bounded up the porch stairs to see if Vanessa had, by any chance, returned early. She doubted it, as there was still more than a week before spring semester started, but she’d had a nagging feeling that just wouldn’t go away.
Before she could even knock, Mrs. Middleston was at the door, holding it open for her.
“How did you know?” she asked.
Ryn’s mind whirled. “How did I know what?”
Mrs. Middleston gave a sharp upward nod. “Go on.”
Ryn ran up the stairs to the third floor, barely noticing the quiet on the empty second floor. At the door to the room she’d shared with Vanessa, Ryn paused to catch her breath. She gave a little knock and stepped inside.
“Vanessa, I—”
She stopped short as a woman straightened from emptying the drawers on Vanessa’s side of the dresser. The woman had blonde, bobbed hair and large, blue eyes.
“Mrs. Feldman.”
An open suitcase sat on Vanessa’s bed, half-crammed with underwear and T-shirts and pj’s.
“What happened?” Ryn asked. “Isn’t Vanessa coming back?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m Meryn Fleming. I was Vanessa’s roommate at the beginning of the year.”
Mrs. Feldman sank onto the bed. “You’re the teacher. The one Vanessa told us about.”
“Yes.” Ryn took a seat on the other bed. “I’m new at St. Aloysius this year, and I didn’t have an apartment. Vanessa and I got to be friends.”
Those eyes so like Vanessa’s filled. “I’m glad she had a friend.” Mrs. Feldman looked around helplessly. “I’d hoped that Vanessa would thrive here, like I did. That she’d make friends to last the rest of her life, but—”
Her voice cut off with a hitch.
“What happened?” Ryn’s stomach clenched. She asked again, “Isn’t Vanessa coming back?”
Mrs. Feldman shook her head. “No. She’s going to stay in Albany with us.” She fixed Ryn with troubled eyes. “Can I trust you not to share what I’m about to tell you?”
Ryn nodded, her feeling of dread growing.
“Vanessa tried to… She found a bottle of sleeping pills, you see.” Mrs. Feldman brushed the tears off her cheeks. “We could tell she was unhappy when she came home, but…”
“Is she—?”
“She’s alive,” Mrs. Feldman said. “We got her to the hospital in time.” She picked up a stuffed Piglet, hugging it to her. “What could have happened?”
Ryn opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she could say, “Vanessa got pregnant.”
Mrs. Feldman’s eyes got big. “Preg—” She blinked, frowned. “But why would—”
“She had an abortion.”
“No.” Mrs. Feldman shook her head again. “No, she wouldn’t do that. We could have dealt with her being pregnant, helped get her through it, give the baby up for adoption, but—”
“She did. I drove her to the clinic.” Ryn braced herself when Mrs. Feldman pushed off from the bed to close the door.
“Why would you do that?” Mrs. Feldman hissed.
“I asked her to wait, to talk to you,” Ryn said miserably. “But she wouldn’t. She said if I didn’t take her, she’d find someone else who would.”
Mrs. Feldman collapsed onto the bed. “But, she’s just a baby herself.”
They sat silently for a few minutes.
“Do you… do you know the boy?”
Ryn’s mind raced, wondering how much more misery to heap upon this poor woman. She shook her head.
“Thank you, for telling me,” Mrs. Feldman said. “We’ll get Vanessa to a doctor.”
Ryn pointed toward the closet. “Do you need any help here?”
“No. No, I can take care of this.”
Ryn stood. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Feldman. Please give Vanessa my best. Tell her I’m thinking of her.” She took a step toward the door, but then stopped. “Would it be all right if I wrote to her?”
“I think it would be best if Vanessa didn’t have any reminders of…” Mrs. Feldman turned back to the dresser.
Mrs. Middleston waited at the bottom of the stairs. If she was hoping for a juicy scoop, Ryn thought, she was going to be disappointed. With a curt nod, she let herself out the door and went to her car.
She pulled away from the curb, her jaw tight. Somehow, she had to find a way to make sure Bradley Geary was held responsible for this mess he’d created.
But for now, she had one more stop to make before she went home.
“See how the width diminishes as it recedes into the distance?”
Henrietta pointed to the club’s drive across the road. She and Meryn sat in armchairs in front of the picture window, which gave them a wonderful place for a lesson on perspective.
“And there, that cart path does the same thing when it curves out of sight,” Meryn noticed.
“Yes.” Henrietta pointed. “And note how the light is hitting the trunk of the oak tree in the yard.”
Meryn had been home for two days and, for Henrietta, her initial happiness at having her here again was quickly tempered by the fact that something was obviously still bothering the girl.
Instead of the endless chatter Henrietta had expected about her visit with her family—though there had been a bit of that—there had been long periods of silence. She often caught Meryn staring at nothing, biting her lip or worrying hangnails until she made her fingers bleed. There’d been no music since she got back, always a sign something was bothering her.
She doesn’t want to be here and doesn’t know how to tell you.
That worry nagged at Henrietta, and she knew from the way it made her go cold inside that it was more than simple distress at the thought of having to find a new companion. Much more.
Still, it wasn’t fair to hold the girl captive against her will. She glanced over to find Meryn aimlessly running her pencil tip along the outline of the tree she’d drawn.
“Are you unhappy here, Meryn?”
The girl’s head snapped up. “Hmmm?”
“Are you unhappy here? Do you want to leave?”
Meryn swiveled her chair to face Henrietta, her dark eyes probing. “No, Henrietta. Why would you ask that?”
Henrietta steeled herself to confront this, whatever it was. “Something has been bothering you since before Christmas. No… actually it dates to Thanksgiving. When your family was here. You’ve seemed unhappy since then. And I can’t help but think you’ve been wanting to leave here. Maybe leave Bluemont and be closer to them. And I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. Obligated to stay here if it’s not what you wish to do.”
Invisible, as Music Page 17