A Ring of Endless Light

by Madeleine L'engle

  "Grandfather," I asked loudly, "do you want me to read to you?"

  He moved his fingers restlessly over the sheets. "I can't find the notes I made yesterday ..."

  I opened the book and started to read, hearing the words but having no idea of the content. I read for about five minutes and Grandfather's hands quietened and his eyelids dropped.

  I tiptoed out.

  By the time Zachary came for me, I knew how Suzy felt about getting out of the house. I wanted to get away from Grandfather's confusions. I wanted to get away from the two worry lines between Mother's eyes. Mrs. Rodney had remarked on Grandfather's pallor and called the hospital. They hoped the supply of blood would be replenished by Monday. Meanwhile, in an emergency we could always bring Grandfather in.

  "Not yet," Mother said. "Not unless we absolutely have to."

  "I agree." Mrs. Rodney still had her hand on the phone. "Leo can go get blood first thing Monday morning."

  And I wanted to get away from Daddy, who had shut himself in the science stall. He'd received a bulky load of scientific tomes and was working hard on his book.

  Mrs. Rodney went in to Grandfather to give him a haircut, "to boost morale." Whose morale?

  Rob was in the children's bookstall, reading. He'd been slower to read than the rest of us, probably because he's the youngest and had so many people to read to him. Even now it was difficult for me to understand that he was old enough to lose himself in a book all by himself. I looked to see what he was reading: The Secret Garden.

  "I like it better when Mother reads it," he said.

  The phone rang. I stood frozen, listening. It might be news about Jeb. It might be the hospital saying they had blood for Grandfather.

  "Vicky," Mother called. "It's Adam. Nothing new on Jeb's condition."

  "Hi," Adam said. "No news--except I wanted to tell you that I coaxed Ynid into eating a little."

  "That's hopeful." I was ready to cling to any straw.

  "Yah, but I don't want to count on it too much."

  "Ynid wouldn't eat, if--" I held the phone between my ear and shoulder so my hands were free. Pulling the cord to its fullest length, I turned on the cold-water tap and poured myself a glass of water.

  "What're you doing this afternoon?" he asked.

  "Going flying with Zachary." I rinsed out my glass and put it on the drainboard.

  "Oh. Yah. That will take your mind off things."

  "I'm not sure I want it taken off."

  Zachary's horn tooted outdoors, and I heard Mrs. Rodney running out to shush him. "Zachary's here."

  "Yah, I know you have to go. Maybe we can get together tomorrow."

  "Let's hope. These things can string out. Adam--what do you think his chances are?"

  "From what I can gather, about fifty-fifty."

  "Adam--things seem to keep piling up."

  "Things have a way of doing that. They usually unpile eventually. Let's hold on to good thoughts about Ynid's eating, and our getting together tomorrow."

  I hung up and went out to the porch. Mother said, "Have a good time."

  "Sure you don't mind if I go?"

  "Sure I'm sure."

  "If Adam calls--"

  She gave me a little hug. "It won't help Jeb for you to turn your back on a good time. Just take care, will you?"

  "I will." The thought of Zachary at the controls of the plane flickered against the corners of my mind. No. This was not the time to say anything about that to my mother.

  I went out to Zachary, glancing at the swallows' nest. The little swallows were still clinging in there. I had half expected to find them dead on the step.

  Zachary was in high spirits. I told him about Jeb and he made polite noises. After all, he didn't know Jeb.

  "You're looking better," I said. "Not such dark circles under your eyes."

  "O-ho, so you notice what I look like."

  "I notice."

  "That's one kindly thing in an unkind world. Maybe that's why I'm baffled and fascinated by you Austins. Most people are predictable; they're out for number one, and they don't give a damn about anybody else, and if they have to step on you to get where they want, they don't even notice you lying in a pool of blood--literal or figurative. It's the only way to get on in the world. I'm not knocking it."

  I thought of Zachary's father and all that money.

  "So you intrigue me. Your father's never going to get anywhere and you don't even seem to care."

  "I think my father is somewhere." I didn't need to defend Daddy to Zachary. If I looked at Daddy, and then looked at Zachary's father, that was obvious.

  "He's never going to make any money."

  Daddy's salary at the hospital in New York was probably double what he'd make as an overworked general practitioner in Thornhill, but "you can be just as miserable with money as without it."

  "Yes, but you can be miserable a whole lot more comfortably. There's that old woman again. This time I'm going to get her."

  "Zach!" I could not control my reflex of screaming, stiffening, and pressing both feet down on imaginary brakes.

  "Idiot." He laughed. "I didn't come anywhere near her."

  And he really hadn't, not anywhere near as last time. "Zachary, this kind of thing does not amuse me."

  "My, my, aren't we pompous, though."

  "I mean it. If you do anything like that once more, I'll never go out with you again. I'm serious." My heart was still thudding. Probably whoever was on that motorcycle hadn't meant to hit Jeb.

  Zachary held the steering wheel lightly with his left hand, put his right hand over his heart. "No more trying to rid the world of obsolete old women. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. No more old women."

  He was so full of high spirits and so talkative on the launch between the Island and the mainland that Leo whispered to me, "Has he been drinking or something?"

  I shook my head. "I don't think so." He certainly didn't smell of alcohol. "I think it's just one of his manic days."

  Zachary turned toward us. "What?"

  Leo pointed to the horizon. "That freighter, there, can you see it?"

  "What about it?"

  "It's carrying a huge load of fireworks. I was wondering what it would look like if she blew up."

  "That's a royal idea. Okay, skipper, ram 'er."

  Leo gave Zachary a pale look. "Fortunately, this tub couldn't catch up with her."

  "Come on. You know you get a good bit of speed."

  "Not that much. The freighter's nearly over the horizon. Anyhow, dying in a blaze of fireworks doesn't appeal to me."

  "It does to me," Zachary said.

  Leo's eyes lost even more color. "We have Vicky with us, in case you've forgotten."

  "How could I forget. Wouldn't it make noble headlines: Young Lovers Go Up In A Blaze Of Glory."

  "Lovers?" Leo demanded.

  "Only a figure of speech, despite all my efforts to make it more."

  We left Leo at the dock. "What time will you be back?"

  "Oh, the usual," Zachary said. "Around eleven."

  "Let's make it ten, please," I said. "I'd like to get home early ..."

  "Anything you say, princess. Ten, then, Leo."

  "Right." He was still angry and his eyes hadn't regained their color. He disappeared into Cor's shack.

  Zachary helped me into the Alfa Romeo with a flourish. "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder."

  At first he drove moderately. Then, suddenly, he swerved to the left. "Let's pretend we're British."

  "Zachary, please."

  "You're absurdly easy to frighten." He continued driving on the left, even when we saw a car coming toward us. As it drew closer, the driver slowed down.

  "Zach, get over."

  "I will, I will," and he did, just as I thought a headlong crash was unavoidable, because the other driver was nervously starting to pull over to his left.

  "Zachary, you are not funny. I don't enjoy being terrified. And you promised."

  "I pr
omised not to go after any more old women. And I haven't."

  "You're not to go after anything, not old women, not fireworks, not drivers who're on the right side of the road. Not anything."

  "Don't get hysterical."

  "I will, if you don't stop behaving like a lunatic."

  "A selenophile, that's me. Are you a selenophile or a helio-phile? A lunar lover or a solar lover?"

  "Zachary, I'm asking you please to drive like a reasonable human being."

  "Vicky-O, you're not going to be a spoilsport today, are you?"

  "If you call not wanting to be terrorized being a spoilsport, yes."

  "Didn't we have a good time last Saturday?"

  "Yes."

  "So let's have a good time today."

  "I want to."

  "And stop worrying about this Jeb character. After we go up with Art I'll take you to a Polynesian restaurant I think you'll like. And, Vicky-O, sorry I frightened you. Truly."

  He sounded sincere, but I wasn't sure. I was never sure with Zachary. However, I was a lot firmer with him than I'd have dared to be a summer ago. Both Adam and Leo had given me a kind of self-confidence that Suzy was born with, and I'd been afraid I'd never attain.

  We reached the turnoff to the airport without further conversation. Art was waiting for us.

  This time I was prepared to be strapped into the back, but I still wasn't completely happy about it. Art didn't even ask Zachary if he'd like to take off. Looking almost as intent as Rob building a sand castle, Zachary lovingly touched the instruments, and we lifted, easily, gracefully.

  Art began giving soft instructions, and Zachary followed them without effort. Flying did seem natural for him, and the tenseness started to leave my muscles. I looked out and down at a strange and beautiful carpet made of the interlocked tops of trees. Lost in loveliness, I was able to forget that it was Zachary, not Art at the controls. Trees, farms, villages, moved by below us. I began to feel the words of a poem moving in my mind. I forgot to be anxious about Jeb, about Grandfather, and drifted like the breeze, moving with the plane, with the air, with time.

  I closed my eyes, so that I didn't see Zachary or Art, I didn't see the plane, there was only the movement of flying, with nothing between me and the clouds.

  "Vicky-O."

  I opened my eyes.

  Zachary looked back at me and there was a glitter to his eyes I didn't like. "I promised you I wouldn't hurt any more little old ladies. I hope there are no little old ladies on that plane."

  "Watch it," Art said sharply.

  "Zach!" The scream tore out of my throat. "Stop!"

  I couldn't see the approaching jet. I could hear it, sounding like thunder above us, but I couldn't see it. "Zach!" I screamed again. I thought I would die of terror.

  Art reached for the instruments with a swift and furious gesture and our little plane dropped like a stone and then veered sharply to the left. I could still hear the thunder of the jet, and my heart seemed to be trying to rip my body apart as I waited for the jet to crash into us.

  "What the hell do you think you're up to?" Art shouted.

  Zachary looked very pale, paler than Grandfather. His jaw was set.

  "Zachary!" Art repeated. "What were you trying to do?"

  Now Zachary shrugged. "Nothing. Just a little fun."

  Art's voice continued loud and belligerent. "Fun! Do you realize that you could have killed not only the three of us but well over a hundred people in that jet? Do you realize you probably scared the pants off that pilot?"

  "Oh, cool it. I was only giving Vicky a little thrill." But his voice had a tremor in it.

  My heart was still galloping, my voice frozen in my throat.

  Art glared at him. "Scared yourself, did you? Came a little closer than you meant to? My God, kid, play with death by yourself if you have to, but leave the rest of us out of it. It'll be a far day before I let you up in a plane again."

  "Aw, Art, you know I didn't mean--"

  "Get your hand off those controls. I'm taking us in."

  When we landed, Art helped me out of the plane. My legs were so shaky I couldn't have managed on my own.

  The big jet sat across the field, nearer the airport, with people streaming out, carrying flight bags, tennis racquets, golf clubs.

  Zachary unstrapped himself and climbed out.

  Art was still furious. "You stupid, smart-assed kid. Do you realize a trick like yours could cost me my license?"

  "Art--I'm sorry--"

  "Someday you'll be sorry too late. Don't come around tomorrow looking for a lesson."

  "Art, please--"

  "Goodbye, Vicky," Art said. "It's been a real pleasure meeting you. Any time you feel like a ride, let me know, and I'll take you up free, gratis." He waved at me, ignored Zachary, and strode off.

  Zachary started toward the Alfa Romeo. "Come along, let's get going, Vicky-O."

  I planted my feet solidly on the tarmac. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'd rather walk."

  "Don't be stupid. You know it's much too far."

  "I'll get Art to drive me."

  "Oh, come off it. Nothing happened."

  "You wanted it to."

  "If I'd wanted it to, it would have."

  "If it hadn't been for Art, it might have."

  "I'd never hurt anybody. Not on purpose. You know that."

  "As Art said, if you keep on going this way, you're going to hurt somebody whether it's on purpose or not."

  He put his hand on my shoulder and I drew away.

  "Relax, Vicky-O. You just scare easy."

  "You scared Art, too. And the pilot of the jet."

  "Art was just saying that. The pilot probably never even saw us. Listen, if you like, I'll drive you to the hospital and you can see how your friend's doing, and maybe even visit him."

  I shook my head. "No. There's someone from the lab with him. I'd just be in the way. No."

  He got down on his knees on the hot tarmac. "Vicky. I'm sorry." He turned his most haunting Hamlet look on me. "I apologize. From the heart. Honestly. I don't know what got into me, or why I thought it necessary to frighten you. Please. Let me drive you to that Polynesian restaurant and put some food in you. Please. I'm sorry. Truly."

  Was he? Was Zachary ever truly sorry?

  But how else was I to get home? Art was gone. We were standing alone on the landing field.

  He helped me into the car and unhooked the seat belt. Then he got in on the driver's side. Now that he had me in the car he sounded more like himself. "Maybe I thought a few drastic measures were needed to wake you up."

  "I'm not asleep."

  "You live in a dream world." He started the car and we drove away from the airport, in the opposite direction from the hospital and the city. "I wish your dream world could be the real world, but it isn't, and the real world's going to be a shock to you."

  "I'm not a child, Zach. I know there are bad things. But the horrors aren't all the world. I know they're there, you don't have to make it a life's work proving it to me." My voice was tight and tense and higher than usual; I was still not over the terror. "The bad things are there, but they aren't all of it."

  "More than you're willing to admit."

  "I told you I'm willing to admit the horrors. You're not willing to admit the good things."

  "I read the papers. I don't keep my head buried in the sand." He took one hand off the wheel and put it on my knee. With one of his abrupt and total changes he said, "You're a good thing, Vicky. You're the most good thing that's ever happened to me."

  He melted me only moderately.

  "Say, do you think Art really meant it about no more lessons?"

  "I don't think Art says things he doesn't mean."

  "He'll cool off." But Zachary's voice held a tinge of anxiety.

  "Don't count on it. Not soon."

  "I'm not going to quit flying. If Art won't teach me I'll find someone else who will, even if I have to drive a hundred miles to another airport."
<
br />   "Speaking of the real world," I said, "most people don't have enough money to buy their way out of things or to get them whatever they want, no matter what it costs."

  "Money's what makes it possible to cope with the real world. If you don't get it, it'll get you."

  I leaned back and closed my eyes and let the wind blow against my face. Terror had seemed to make me exhausted. Maybe my worlds weren't very big, the worlds of Thornhill and the Island and my family, but they were, I thought, just as real as Zachary's.

  The Polynesian restaurant was fun and different, and Zachary was on his best and most charming behavior, calling me princess and treating me like one. It was after nine when we left, and it was nearly an hour's drive back to the dock.

  When we got there Cor was sitting on his keg in front of the chessboard, but Leo wasn't opposite him. As Zachary slowed the car to a stop, Cor stood up and moved stiffly toward us.

  "Where's Leo?" Zachary demanded. "We told him ten."

  Cor took his unlit pipe out of his mouth and cleared his throat. "Leo, he got a hurry call to get back to the Island."

  "Listen!" Zachary was indignant. "I hired Leo for the afternoon and evening. I'm paying him for his services." He looked to where Leo's launch was in its regular berth, waiting. "So where is he?"

  Cor cleared his throat again and put his pipe back in his mouth, speaking around it. I'd never seen it lit. "Money can't buy everything. Leo was needed."

  "What for?" Zachary demanded. "His boat's right here, so where is he?"

  Cor was having a hard time saying whatever it was he was trying to say. "Coast Guard ambulance left the Island. Some woman starting labor a month early."

  Zachary's irritation mounted. "What's that got to do with it?" Suddenly I was frightened.

  Cor mumbled around his pipe. "It's Miss Vicky's grandfather. He needed blood."

  "Hemorrhage?" I asked.

  "I guess. Leo was off in a flash to get him and bring him back here to the hospital."

  I looked at the launch, rising and dipping against its moorings.

  Cor said, "Leo went with your folks to the hospital to see if he could give blood. Said you'd probably want to get right over to the hospital to see your grandfather."

  "Zach--" I turned to him.

  He was already hurrying to the car and I ran after him, calling out thanks to Cor.

  I didn't say anything as the needle of the speedometer crept up, past sixty, past seventy. All I wanted was to get to Grandfather, to Mother and Daddy, as fast as possible.