“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Holly said. “She was taken to a doctor in Russia. There was nothing wrong with Sally!”
“Fuck you,” the girl said. “She never was Sally! You didn’t even bring me a Christmas present! Where do you think Sally went when you left her there for months? Who do you think was taking care of Sally then? Who do you think is taking care of Sally now? No American wants a child with broken legs. A child who’s been dropped, or beaten. Or a child who has a bad heart. That’s why you pretended not to know until you couldn’t not know!”
“That’s not true!” Holly said desperately. “I never cared about any of that. I loved you. You were the sweetest, smallest thing I ever loved. I loved you both. I never cared! I would have taken either of you, or both of you! I would have taken you broken, I would have taken your sister with a bad heart. I would have, I did!”
No you didn’t!
Although the scream was deafening, Holly didn’t bother to put her hand over her ears. She knew where the voice was coming from, and she put her hands over her eyes, and she knew that, when she looked up, Sally would be gone.
EVERYTHING, HOLLY KNEW, would be different when Eric got home, when morning came.
She swallowed, willing herself to cry no more. For the rest of the day, she would not make a sound. There was no sense upsetting Tatiana. She would never even have to know. Holly would never tell anyone. It wasn’t something she would even share with Thuy. Just as she had never told anyone about the chickens, and the way, that summer, when they’d gotten the chickens from the farm outside of town, Holly had so stupidly believed they would be happy. That the chickens would stay inside the fence, peck at grubs, live in the lovely little Amish chicken coop she and Eric had mail-ordered for them.
She had never told anyone how, while Tatiana napped, Holly had been lying with a book in bed with the window open—because it was early summer, and beautiful, with a sky so blue it looked as though there were some kind of membrane over the world, pulled so tightly across space that it could have been punctured—and listening to the chickens under the bush outside the window, squawking.
She’d known, hadn’t she, that the squawking was louder than usual? But Holly had allowed herself to believe that they were only squabbling over pillbugs, fighting to get at a worm. How Holly had loved the sound of the chickens! There was, truly, nothing lovelier than a few chickens in the yard. (So much depends upon . . .) Holly was sorry that the neighbors didn’t approve (“Suburbanites don’t understand farm animals; this will be a disaster!” one letter to the editor had admonished) but to have your own chickens, to scramble your chickens’ golden eggs for breakfast—
It wasn’t until much later that day that Holly discovered their squawking had been the noise of four hens pecking a fifth one to death. That the worst of it had taken place in Randa’s yard. That they’d chased the victim—the one she’d stupidly, horribly named Sally—through a hole in the fence. By the time that hen made it to Randa’s honeysuckle bush to hide, it was too late.
CAREFUL NOT TO disturb her, Holly pulled the coverlet over her daughter’s shoulder, patted it down gently, caressed her shining hair with the lightest of touches. Then she bent down and picked up her phone from the floor and held it to her own ear:
“Hello?” she asked, but the connection had been cut between herself and Thuy by then, and Holly was sorry about that. Tatiana would have loved to have talked to Thuy, to Pearl, to Patty. Tatiana loved Christmas. She loved to say Merry Christmas to her family, to her friends.
Holly turned around, leaned over Tatiana in her bed, slipped the iPhone into her daughter’s hand, and folded the stiff fingers around it, just in case Thuy called back, and then she tiptoed out of her daughter’s room, closing the door very quietly behind her.
REPORT #321-22-2-7654
DATE OF DEATH: December 25, 20--
TIME OF DEATH: Approximate 7:30-8:30 a.m.
DECEDENT: Tatiana Bonnie Clare
AGE: 15
PARENTS OF DECEDENT < 25: Holly E. Judge/Eric M. Clare
LOCATION OF DEATH: Decedent’s Domicile/11-- Great Forest Road/----- ------
---------, Michigan 49---
CAUSE OF DEATH: Myocardial Infarction Due to Heritable Congenital Defect/Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome
NOTES: Father returns to domicile approx 8:45 p.m. after blizzard delay/family emergency. Finds mother distraught/unresponsive in living room. Several minutes later finds daughter deceased in bedroom. At first suspects homicide. Signs of struggle: Broken glasses/dishes/food and clothing strewn about premises. Mother insists daughter is alive/will not leave room. Speaks of intruder described as teenaged girl. “Sally.” “From Russia.” Notebook/recent writing/references to being “followed.” (Acute stress-related psychosis?) Violence/home invasion ruled out by police. Decedent’s clothes changed repeatedly by mother throughout day postmortem. Decedent “force fed,” & moved repeatedly from room to room throughout day postmortem. Mother remains under observation.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For assistance and support of all kinds, I am eternally grateful to Bill Abernethy, Jack Abernethy, Lucy Abernethy, Lisa Bankoff, Dominique Bourgois, Antonya Nelson, Katherine Nintzel, Carrie Wilson, and Olga Zilberbourg.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LAURA KASISCHKE teaches in the MFA program and at the Residential College at the University of Michigan. A winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award for poetry, she has published eight collections of poetry and nine novels, two of which have been made into films, including The Life Before Her Eyes. She lives in Chelsea, Michigan.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
ALSO BY LAURA KASISCHKE
Fiction
The Raising
In a Perfect World
Feathered
Boy Heaven
The Life Before Her Eyes
White Bird in a Blizzard
Suspicious River
Poetry
Space, In Chains
Lilies Without
Gardening in the Dark
Dance and Disappear
What It Wasn’t
Fire & Flower
Housekeeping in a Dream
Wild Brides
CREDITS
Cover design by Amanda Kain
Cover photographs: © Edward Carlile Portraits/Getty Images (woman);
Barnaby Hall/Getty Images (snow)
COPYRIGHT
MIND OF WINTER. Copyright © 2014 by Laura Kasischke. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN: 978-0-06-228439-6
EPUB Edition April 2014 ISBN 9780062284419
14 15 16 17 18 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
; London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollins.com
Mind of Winter Page 21