“You don’t think he ought to be in a hospital or anything, do you?”
“No. In a hospital we could check his creatinine level, but knowing just how badly his kidneys are affected wouldn’t make me do anything I’m not already doing. He’s hungry this morning, and that’s a good sign.”
Emma put the bacon-and-egg mixture into the frying pan. “We’ll let Abby sleep. If she can. Where’s Ben?”
“He went off in the rowboat. He needs to be alone for a while.”
Emma stirred the eggs gently. “It’s not easy to be alone with six people on a fifty-foot boat. And when we add Jarvis and Sophie and Louis—”
“The main thing,” Alice said, “is for Dave not to feel crowded. Abby has been wonderful for him. Whatever he and Nik talked about was good. Jarvis is upsetting. Sophie and Louis—I don’t know.”
“Sophie’s emotional.” Emma turned the flame as low as she could get it. “Life has been rough for her. Even after she left Papa, she always turned to him for advice. I don’t know how she’ll be with him now.”
Alice sighed. “I don’t want to be overprotective. That’s not what Dave needs. We’ll just have to take it as it comes.”
Emma fixed a plate of her egg-and-bacon mixture for her father, added two blueberry muffins which had been warming in the oven, and set a cup of coffee and a pot of warm milk on the tray.
Alice took it. “I’ll be back. I’ll bathe Dave after breakfast.”
She left, carrying the tray, just as Nik came out of the head. He rolled the pajamas up in the sleeping bag while Emma fixed him a plate. “It’s starting to rain,” he said, “but it’s a soft rain, and I don’t think it should cause any delay for Sophie and Louis.”
Their coming or not coming would neither hasten nor delay David Wheaton’s death. Or would it? Was David waiting to make his final farewells before letting go? Emma shuddered. She wished that Jarvis had not come, that Sophie and Louis would not come.
Nik? Alone in the rowboat the night before, she had made her decision.
While Alice was bathing David and readying him for the day, a radio message came through that Jarvis would stay in Port Clements until Sophie and Louis arrived, so that Ben would have only one trip to make with the Zodiac. It was pouring. He was better off staying dry in the hotel until the rain stopped.
“Typical,” Emma said. “He says he’s being thoughtful of Ben, but he’s really thinking of Jarvis.”
Abby looked at her inquiringly.
“I’m being horrid about Jarvis, aren’t I? Oh, Abby, I’m feeling horrid.” She and Abby were in the main cabin. Alice was in the pilothouse. She did not know where Nik was. Probably somewhere with Ben. “I suppose I’ve been in a make-believe world, really thinking that this summer would go on and on forever, that I’d do the cooking, and Alice would take care of Papa, and the curtain would never come down. And I’ve somehow been counting on Norma. Norma’s Haida and Athabascan and has a good bit of others in her mix, and she has senses that ordinary people don’t have, and she said she’d see Papa again. There’s no way Papa’s going to be anywhere near Norma’s village again until next summer. That is, if he lived, he’d be going to see Norma again next summer.”
“Emma.” Abby’s voice was gentle. “I know Norma and I, too, trust her. But Dave is dying. There isn’t going to be any next summer for him. Whatever Norma meant, she didn’t mean that there’s going to be some kind of miracle.”
“Well, there have been miracles, haven’t there? Cures at Lourdes, and so forth … and so on …” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, yes, there have been miracles, genuine miracles. And I suppose it is not outside the realm of possibility that Dave’s cancer might remit. But, Emma, dearest, I don’t think it’s going to.”
Emma reached across the table for Abby’s hand. “I know. I don’t think so, either.”
Toward noon the rain stopped and a soft yellow sun began to burn through the clouds. After lunch Abby retired to the lower cabin to rest. Ben headed for the Zodiac. “I’m off to Port Clements. We’re not exactly sure when they’ll get in. I’d better be there early.”
Emma asked, “Ben, please make sure that Jarvis got milk and eggs.”
“Okay.”
She had stuffed a small turkey for dinner, taking it out of the big freezer below-decks the night before. It seemed the simplest thing for that many people. She prepared brown and wild rice, and threw in some hazelnuts. She creamed onions and steamed a mixture of vegetables. When there was nothing left for her to do, nothing to occupy her mind, she went up to the pilothouse.
Nik was there with her father, and the two men were laughing. “It was hilarious,” Nik said. “Here was Emma with the great Ethel Barrymore, and Barrymore was playing a nun. It was a scene in a Boston mansion at night, and Emma wore white silk pajamas, and the wardrobe mistress hadn’t checked the buttons, and right in the middle of the scene the waistband button went, and Emma’s pajamas dropped to the stage, revealing her very skimpy scarlet undies (I’d given them to her for Christmas). Barrymore just stepped in front of Emma, spreading out her nun’s skirts, until Emma had her pajamas up again, holding them by hand until the scene was finished. Only a few people in the audience noticed anything at all.”
Emma perched on the foot of her father’s bunk. “It was horribly embarrassing at the time, and taught me to check my own buttons. It’s funny, now.”
David said, “Did you hear about Louis and last New Year’s Eve?”
“I didn’t,” Nik said.
“He was playing in that political show, remember, and on New Year’s Eve he borrowed a big white towel and got a wide white satin ribbon with the date on it to go across his chest, and when Mel Douglas, who was playing the lead, opened the set door expecting to greet his stage wife, instead he was met by Louis in towel and ribbon and otherwise as naked as the day he was born.”
“Marvelous Louis,” Emma said. “He’s really growing up. It took a long time before he developed that uninhibited kind of humor.”
“There’s a good role for him in my new play,” Nik said. “No leading lady, Emma. No women, in fact, just a gaggle of idiotic little ingenues. But it’s fun. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
David Wheaton shifted position. “Do you remember that summer of stock we did in Westport, and we were doing Agatha Christie’s Ten Little Indians?”
“Oh, indeed, yes.” Emma laughed. “Remember that wonderful old character actor playing the judge? And he thought he’d found the murderer, a guy called Seton. And he was supposed to say, ‘I’ll cook Seton’s goose.’”
“And he said”—David Wheaton picked up the cue—“‘I’ll goose Seton’s cook,’ and he had no idea why we were all trying not to break up.”
Alice came in with mugs of tea. “Tea time. What did I miss? Are you telling theater stories again?”
“We are,” David said. “We have an endless supply. Did you hear about the time Emma played Queen Elizabeth I, and one of her strands of pearls broke, and pearls went bouncing across the stage, and somehow or other the actor playing Essex got one up his nose—”
“And couldn’t get it out,” Emma said. “He kept putting one finger to his nose and trying to blow it out, and I had a terrible time to keep from laughing, and the audience couldn’t figure out what was happening—”
It was a good afternoon of laughter, healing laughter.
The rain started again and it was expected that Sophie and Louis would be delayed. It was six by the time Ben returned with them and with Jarvis. Alice was there to greet them. “One at a time, please. David gets very tired if there’s any confusion. Sophie, will you—?”
“Of course.” Sophie sounded and looked very composed. Emma had thought that she might fall apart, weep, but she seemed to be in control of her emotions. She wore a grey flannel pants suit, and silver jewelry, and her mop of hair had turned from gold to silver. “He’s in the pilothouse? I know the way.”
&n
bsp; “She’s changed,” Emma mused. “She’s still Sophie, but there’s a sense of quiet.”
Louis had his arms around Emma. “Alice, I’m so glad you’re here for Papa. And I’m glad Mom and I got here. I wasn’t sure about that last plane we took, the one that only seated four people. And I’m glad Papa knows I’m making it in the theater. Maybe I’ll never be as big as he is, and maybe I’ll do more musicals than serious theater—”
“Hey, Louis,” Nik corrected, “musicals are serious theater.”
“Oh, sure, I know, I’m sorry,” Louis said. “I guess I just don’t want to compare myself to Papa, but I want him to know I’m doing okay.”
“He knows it.” Emma took the turkey out of the oven. “He knows it, and he’s glad. How are you at carving, Louis?”
“Not bad. Gino taught me.”
“I’ll carve,” Jarvis said. “I claim seniority.”
“Get to it, then, please,” Emma ordered, “and by the time Sophie comes down we’ll be ready.” She helped put bowls of rice, onions, vegetables, on the table.
When Jarvis had finished carving, Louis said, “I’ll get Mom.”
“No, Louis, dear,” Emma said. “I’ll get her. Then you can visit with Papa later.”
When they were all seated, Louis said, “I think we should hold hands and sing grace, the way we used to when we all got together.”
“What grace?” Jarvis looked sour.
“The one I brought back from summer camp, Johnny Apple-seed.”
Emma held out her hands. She was sitting at the end of the table, where she could easily reach the galley, one hand holding Louis’s; the other, Abby’s. They sang the happy and robust melody. It was not the kind of music that plucked the chords of emotion. Thank heavens.
When everybody was served and Alice had taken a tray up to David, Jarvis looked at all of them around the table. “We’re all sitting here as though everything’s normal. And it isn’t. Papa’s death is going to change all our lives.”
“Hold it, Jarvis,” Louis said. “Papa’s still alive.”
“But we’re all here to say goodbye to him. When we leave, we’ll leave knowing that we’re never going to see him again.”
“We’re at a crossroads,” Sophie said softly, “and we must be careful which road we choose. I haven’t always been careful.”
Emma gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. At a crossroads. Surely a common expression, but it brought back uncommon memories. She looked around the table. “Do you remember Norma?”
“Sure,” Sophie said. “That magnificent Indian woman. Has Davie seen her this summer?”
“Yes,” Emma assured her. “We stopped at Norma’s village and she and Papa had a good visit.”
“Oh, I’m so glad. Norma’s always been good for Davie. She’s a tough old bird. No Indian’s life is easy, thanks to us, I guess.”
Abby looked at her godchild. “Is there something about Norma and a crossroads?”
Emma nodded gravely. “When Norma was young, she had a terrible time—she nearly died. I spent several days with her after—after a very bad time in my own life. Norma told me that when she was well and able to think again, the wise woman of her tribe told her that she was at a crossroads.”
Sophie looked across the table inquiringly.
Emma smiled at Sophie. “The wise old woman said that one road led to a funeral and the other to a wedding. Norma said, ‘I chose the wedding.’”
There were tears in Sophie’s eyes. “Davie has always chosen the wedding. He’s choosing it even now.”
“You can say that, Sophie, after seeing Papa’s depressions?” Emma asked.
“Davie’s depressions weren’t the real Davie. I know that now.” She looked around the table. “Yes, we are all at a crossroads.” She looked at Emma. At Nik.
“I have usually chosen the funeral,” he said, “and this has been disaster for everybody I have loved. I can’t blame it on the fact that my parents always chose the funeral. I made my own choices.”
“And now?” Abby asked.
“I choose the wedding. No matter what”—he looked at Emma—“I will still choose the wedding. I’ve had too many funerals.”
“But when Papa dies”—Louis’s voice was choked—“how can we choose the wedding?”
Sophie laughed. “By giving him an enormous great grand glorious funeral at the Cathedral, a real show for all his family and friends and fans. And by going on living, living better because we’ve been part of his life than if we’d never known him.”
After dinner Louis went to see his father, and Sophie insisted on doing the dishes. Nik said, “I’ll dry and put. There’s nowhere on this boat big enough for all these dishes except in their own places in the cupboards.”
As they were finishing, Ben came in. “Last call for the ferry to Port Clements.”
Jarvis said, “I haven’t seen Papa today. You’ll have to wait a few minutes.”
“Not long,” Alice said. “It’s late.”
“Louis has been with him for half an hour. I came all these thousands of miles to—”
“Not long, Jarvis,” Sophie reiterated. “I’ll get Louis.”
“No.” Jarvis was firm. “I’ll go to the pilothouse and send Louis down.”
After fifteen minutes Alice said, “Enough,” and went after Jarvis.
When Jarvis, Sophie, and Louis had gone off with Ben in the Zodiac, Abby looked at Alice. “You’re very concerned about David?”
“I think his kidneys are going.”
Abby nodded. “Then it’s time for all of us to leave. We can go from Port Clements tomorrow. Emma?”
Emma closed her eyes, sighing deeply. “You’re right, Abby. It’s time. It’s too much confusion for Papa.” Then she looked around. “But it’s too much confusion for me, too, leaving with everybody.”
“You’re very close to your father,” Abby said. “But not too long, Emma. As you said, you have to let go.”
“If you leave tomorrow, I’ll leave the next day.”
“Alone?”
“With Nik.”
She and Nik got into the dinghy in order to have a few minutes alone, Emma taking the oars and pushing away from the Portia.
“You really mean it?” Nik asked.
“As long as you really mean it about choosing the wedding. No. I’m sorry. That won’t work. No qualifications. I love you, I’m your wife. I won’t walk out on you again. But, Nik, you mustn’t walk out on me.”
“Emma, I’m not your father. You aren’t any of his wives.” He watched her as she rowed away from the Portia and toward one of the small islands. “Sweetie. I may regress. You may have to pull me away from the funeral. But I’ll try.”
“We’ll try together,” Emma said.
“Em?”
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Coming back to me—”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Going over the David play, talking about it with Papa, with Abby and Alice—I did some reassessing. And then—seeing Abby, and now Sophie, and knowing how close they came to—well, if it hadn’t been for Papa falling for Myrlo, Abby and Papa would still be married. And Marical—Adair thought she should have stayed with Papa. And Sophie—I know she’s sorry she left when things were rough. I don’t think I want to give up.”
“I’m glad you don’t. Neither do I.”
That night in the lower cabin Emma watched while Alice got ready for bed. “I’m going back to Nik.”
“Yes. I’m glad.”
“I may be crazy. But when I left Nik three months ago I wasn’t the same person I am now.”
“No.” Alice climbed up onto her bunk, sat there looking at Emma. Finally she asked, “Emma—forgive me—when did you last have a period?”
Emma looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought. So much has been happening.”
“Think.”
“Well. Not for a while.”
Alice continued to look at Emma with her cool blue gaze. “I think you’re pregnant.”
“Preg—why on earth?”
“You were sick in the morning the first few days you were here, for instance.”
“I had that virus that was going around. It hit me just when I left Nik, and all my defenses were down. Everyone said it lasted forever—” She stopped. “Morning sickness?”
“Well?”
Emma started to laugh. “That would be choosing the wedding, all right. I’m nearly forty.”
“Well?” Alice asked again.
Emma continued to laugh. “I’d given up all thought of ever getting pregnant again. I haven’t bothered to keep track of my periods. They’ve never been very regular. Oh, Alice, I think maybe you’re right. I think maybe I am pregnant—But at my age—”
“There’s no reason you shouldn’t be fine, and the baby, too.”
Emma’s laughter dissolved into tears. “Oh, God, it would explain a lot of little things. I hope—I hope it’s true.”
“I suspect it is,” Alice said gently.
“When did you—”
“For quite a while. It didn’t seem appropriate to mention it when you’d just left Nik.”
“No. Well. I’m glad I decided to go back to Nik before—it wouldn’t have been for the right reason if I’d gone back to him because I’m pregnant. I wish I could have my baby here, with you.”
“No, you’ll be better off in New York. I’ll do some research and find the right obstetrician for you. There are some good women coming along in the field.”
“I want to tell Nik,” Emma said.
“Wait till morning,” Alice advised. “Wait till the others go.”
Ben took Abby, Sophie, Louis, and Jarvis to Port Clements in the Zodiac. When Abby left David, she looked white and shaken. David had clung to her. Leaving was not easy.
Sophie, Louis, and Jarvis did not have a final farewell visit. “It’s been done,” Sophie agreed.
“But Abby did—” Jarvis started.
“Jarvis, hush. You produced David Wheaton’s last play.”
Louis was silent, trying to control tears.
The Portia seemed empty when the Zodiac left.
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