The Ebony Swan

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  “Yes. I’ve had a shock I never expected. I’m still not sure how to deal with it. So I want to return to the one place where I’ve sometimes been granted wisdom.”

  “To that special church?” Susan asked.

  Alex nodded, and went to tell Gracie where they would be, in case anyone asked for them. Then they got into Alex’s car, and she felt glad to be at the wheel, traveling familiar roads, taking some sort of action that might help her toward a resolution—a healing for her life.

  When they reached the place, high billows of pinkening clouds floated above the dark grove of trees and the yew-lined walk to the door of the building. This was a structure that had seen centuries pass, and to which so much human grief, as well as joy, had been brought over the years.

  Susan had asked no questions and had come with her willingly, but Alex sensed her concern. She paused on the walk and put a hand on Susan’s arm.

  “Allow me this. Long ago I lost all contact with formal religion. But something speaks to me here. I need a renewal of strength in order to deal with my life.”

  Susan nodded uncertainly, and Alex sensed by her look that she might be remembering her earlier vision that had proved prophetic on Tangier Island.

  It was after hours and the church was locked, but Alex had brought the key she had acquired long ago as a trustee. She slipped it into the lock and the door swung open.

  The great arched space with its high oxeye windows was alight with a rosy glow from rays that slanted across pews and aisles, otherwise lost in shadow. Alex raised her head to the benediction of light and moved slowly up the aisle. The stark beauty of vaulted spaces raised her spirit. In a little while the sky outside would darken, but she had come in time. The light blessed her, and the draining of courage ceased.

  With Susan close beside her, she moved toward the chancel. No formal prayer rose to her lips. She had no need of such words. Whatever presence presided in this place knew why she had come, and a response seemed to echo through her consciousness. She needed only to listen.

  You have the strength in yourself that you have always had. A strength that is greater now than when you were young. Accept and listen. Accept what your spirit already knows. If ordeal lies ahead, you will meet it, face it without faltering. The power you need is within you always. Use it.

  “Grandmother!” Susan’s whisper carried a warning and Alex turned to look toward the door they’d left open when they entered.

  A figure stood silhouetted against the sunset light. As Alex tried to make out the face, she felt a sudden, almost superstitious fear of the past.

  But it was only Hallie. She came up the aisle, passing Susan. “You mustn’t stay here!” she cried to Alex. “Get away before—”

  But Alex was no longer afraid. Hallie was sometimes foolish but always harmless. She stopped her calmly. “We’re perfectly safe in this place, Hallie. This is ‘sanctuary.’”

  “Not now!” Hallie cried. “Not anymore!”

  If she was right, it was already too late. Someone had appeared behind her and stood at the foot of the aisle. The woman wore white pants and a white shirt, and had tied a white scarf over her head, so that she shone with false purity in the fading pink light. Emily Gower advanced up the aisle slowly, holding something balanced on the palms of her hands, as though she were a priestess making an offering.

  In a flash of recognition, Alex understood everything clearly. The object Emily held was the ebony swan.

  “I found this at my brother’s house,” Emily said. “I thought you should have it now. To remind you of what your husband believed you really were.”

  Hallie fluttered in apology. “Gracie told us where you’d gone, Alex. Emily felt there was still unfinished business between you, so when you left the island she came across the long way in one of John’s boats.”

  Emily cut her off. “Never mind all that. Alex knows why I’m here. She knows all the old scores that need to be settled.”

  Calmly Alex took the carving from her. She had asked for wisdom and courage and she still felt that unseen, protective support. Perhaps she could even give a name to it now. All that Juan Gabriel had felt when he had first known about John had indeed been vented, released into this carving and his writing. He had confronted John to preserve his marriage, and he had accomplished what he intended, even though the younger man had disarmed him. At least this was what she wanted to believe.

  “It’s time for you to know even more,” Emily said. “To know everything. I’ve come to finish what you’ve started, and nothing else matters now.”

  Alex looked up at the fading radiance that filled the vaulted spaces overhead. “Not here,” she said. “We will go outside and I will listen to whatever else you have to tell me.”

  Hallie cried out frantically. “No! Don’t listen! I’ve listened too long. Too terribly long!”

  Alex walked serenely down the aisle, and Susan, looking alarmed, came with her, a hand tight on her arm. There was no time to reassure her now, though Alex felt confident that Susan, at least, was protected.

  Emily slipped past and ran ahead, moving with an agility Alex Montoro had long ago lost. Hallie came last, haltingly, afraid to leave what had been called “sanctuary.”

  Outside, Alex led them away from the tombs of Carter and his wives and past the little collection of old gravestones. Twilight tinted the sky a rosy gray, and it was not yet entirely dark. Warmth from the day lingered, and fireflies danced among the bushes, offering false tranquility. Now and then a car sped by on the road, leaving the evening hushed when it was gone.

  “We can sit here on the grass and talk, if you like,” Alex said, as if this were a social occasion. When Susan helped her down and she had been settled with her back against a tree, she placed the swan beside her—almost companionably, since a sort of peace had been made between them.

  “You’ve always known, haven’t you?” she asked Hallie.

  Hallie nodded miserably. “I blame myself. But how could I betray my sister? I know that what I did to protect her was wrong. Now I know!”

  “Hush,” Emily told her. “There was nothing you could do to stop anything. The blame lies with Alex. I want her to know all of it—so it can be ended. I can’t live with this anymore. There was another time when I came to your house, Alex—when you were out.”

  Yes, this was the way it had to have been. “The day Dolores died?”

  “Of course. This morning when I saw you and John together I knew you must hear the rest. I came over from the island that day to visit Hallie. I had found John looking at an old photograph of you, Alex. He never guessed that I saw him, but I wanted then to confront you. I was furious, jealous. I never intended anything else. When I came across from the island, Hallie was out, and Gilbert had left a note for her, saying he was going to see Lawrence. I borrowed his extra car and drove over. Then I crept around the house and climbed the tower stairs to let myself inside. I wanted to surprise you, catch you off guard.”

  Alex’s heartbeat had quickened but she said nothing, waiting with a sense of the inevitable for whatever was to come.

  “I ran down to the second floor in time to hear Mr. Montoro calling for Dolores. I stayed at the end of the hall and watched when she came out to see what was the matter. He was upset, almost choking over his effort to speak. I saw what he was grasping in his hands—that carving of the ebony swan. He asked Dolores why she had left it in his room, as he’d seen her do.

  “She told him she’d found it in the tower room trunk when she was looking for something else, and it had shocked her. When he woke up, she’d wanted to talk to him about the carving. She wanted to assure him that you weren’t like that. She was sad that Juan Gabriel was not her father, but now she was trying to understand. She said that no matter what had happened in the past, she loved you both. Oh, it was a very pretty scene—except that he couldn’t respond. He held the c
arving tightly in his hands and just stared at her.”

  Tears burned Alex’s eyes. Emily, unwittingly, was giving Dolores back to her.

  Once more, Hallie broke in weakly. “Please, Emily, don’t say anything else.”

  If she heard her sister, Emily gave no sign. “Mr. Montoro was struggling to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out. When I saw what was happening, all my hatred for you, Alex, turned into a rage against Dolores. You had a child—my son had died. Your child was also my husband’s. And my husband still loved you, though he couldn’t even admit it to himself.”

  Alex put out a hand toward Susan in apprehension, but Susan was too intent on Emily to notice.

  Emily’s tone became almost conversational, light and amused. “What could be a better revenge than to harm your child, Alex? Dolores was standing near the top of the stairs and I started toward her. Your husband tried to stop me. He struggled out of his wheelchair, but he was too late. I pushed her hard. I wanted to hurt her, to hurt you, but I never expected her to die. She screamed as she fell, and the child came running out of her playroom. Whether or not she saw me I don’t know. I ran to the tower stairs and rushed down to my car. I guess Gilbert and Lawrence were in Lawrence’s workshed, because I heard the sound of the lathe going.

  “Back at the house where I was born—where I lived until I married John—I told Hallie what had happened, and what I knew. Gilbert arrived not long after, having left your house after I did, but before Dolores was found. We didn’t learn until later that Dolores had died.”

  Hallie was crying softly. “We protected you, Gilbert and I. We knew you never meant to kill Dolores. But when Alex invited Susan to come here, we were both afraid of what she might remember.”

  Alex closed her eyes, painfully aware of Susan’s state of shock and confusion. However, Emily was still willing to talk, and she must be encouraged to tell it all.

  With an effort, Alex managed to contain her own grief and anger. “Marilyn Macklin had nothing to do with Tangier.”

  Again Emily’s voice rose in pitch, though Alex could no longer see her face in the dimming light. “Marilyn was writing about Juan Gabriel Montoro. She was digging into the past to discover exactly what happened before he died. There were words he spoke to you. I was a friend of the family, and Marilyn was quite willing to talk to me, perhaps even pump me a little. She told me what Montoro had managed to say, and I knew how close she was getting to the truth. Closer than you’d ever realized, Alex. So I had to stop her, or what had happened to Dolores would come out for everyone to learn. I had to preserve my life with John.”

  “Luck played into your hands,” Alex said.

  “Not luck. Karma. It was all intended to happen, from the very beginning. Perhaps it could never have been stopped—and it can’t be stopped now. I was with Hallie in the drugstore when Peter came to pick up a prescription for Theresa’s friend. We were in another part of the store, but it was quiet, so we overheard the conversation. The druggist and Peter talked about what dangerous stuff this antidepressant was. In overdose it could kill. Peter said he was picking it up then, because he needed to deliver it to his patient early the next morning. So I suspected that he’d leave it in his office overnight. He was also picking up some special vitamins for Marilyn. He mentioned to the druggist that she took three of these a day.”

  “I drove Emily to Peter’s office!” Hallie cried. “I thought she wanted to catch Peter to talk to him. I didn’t know until afterward that she’d gone in a window, or what she’d done. It was horrible, but what could I do after Marilyn was dead?”

  Emily spoke gently—a false sound that made Alex feel ill. “You couldn’t do anything, Hallie. Because you love me and you had to think of me first. It was fated—even to Marilyn’s vitamins waiting there for me. So now you can understand, Alex. Now you know that everything had to happen the way it did, every step of the way. Because of you.”

  They must get away from this place, away from Emily. There could be no “sanctuary” now, when she’d gone completely over the edge. But when Alex struggled to rise, Emily stopped her.

  “Wait—there’s something more you need to know. What happens to me now doesn’t matter. I’ve set everything in motion. The whole story is in a letter to the police, with copies to local and Richmond papers. Letters that are in the mail now and can’t be stopped. John’s life is already destroyed, and so will yours be, Alex. Imagine what is going to happen to you when reporters and television people get hold of this and descend on you. What a shambles your nice, safe life will be!”

  Alex could hardly absorb what she was saying. For all these years Emily had carried this terrible hidden rage, and now it was completely out of control. The dark evening, still warm from the heat of the day, carried its own threat. They were isolated here, helpless to stop whatever was about to happen. An early half moon turned the church roofs silver, and touched the silver mountings of the gun Emily held in her hand.

  Hallie called out to Susan. “You must take your grandmother and go! Now! Emily, listen to me . . .”

  But Emily was beyond listening to anyone. As Susan pulled Alex to her feet, she raised the Spanish pistol.

  What happened next seemed to Alex to occur in slow motion—it was all so inevitable, so impossible to stop or change. Desperately, Susan tried to push her behind a nearby tree, but Alex found herself frozen in time, unable to escape. This moment was what she had been destined for, driven toward since the day of her birth. She faced John’s wife calmly, without fear. Her death would be the ultimate expiation of guilt.

  Emily, however, was laughing—an eerie sound that cracked the silence into splinters. “This isn’t for you, Alex. You’re an old woman, and it will be punishment enough to live out your years.”

  In the instant that she leveled the gun, Hallie flung herself in front of Susan. The sound of the shot crashed against the great brick building and died away until the night was silent. Hallie’s soft cry roused no echoes as she slipped toward the ground.

  In a long moment of horror, Emily stared at the bright red sheen on her sister’s breast. Then she threw the pistol down and ran through the trees to where she’d left her car.

  Strength returned in a surge and Alex found she could act again. There was no time to be surprised that she and Susan were still alive, and a lifetime of authority took hold as she spoke to Susan.

  “Here’s the key to the Reception Center—there’s a telephone there. Call Peter. Get an ambulance. I’ll stay here with Hallie.”

  Susan pulled off her thin cotton sweater and pressed it over the wound. “Hold this in place tightly,” she told Alex, and ran off across the grass. Alex sat with Hallie’s head in her lap, her hands pressed against the pulsing of blood.

  Hallie looked up at her, whispering. “I had to make up for all the times I’ve protected her. I couldn’t let her kill again.”

  “Hush,” Alex told her gently. “Just be quiet until help comes.”

  “Poor Emily,” Hallie murmured, paying no attention. “But she’ll be all right now. She always loved the water, and there’s peace for her out there in the bay. She told me that once.”

  Alex pressed harder against the wound. Suddenly she thought of sitting beside Juan Gabriel, when he too was dying, and a strange clarity returned to her. He had tried to tell her. Perhaps he couldn’t remember Emily’s name, or perhaps he couldn’t manage the name of the island. But he had knocked over the basket of fruit and pointed with a shaking hand toward an orange that had rolled away. Not an orange—a tangerine! The name young Susan had called Tangier Island.

  Susan ran back across the grass. “Peter’s on his way. He’s calling an ambulance. I’ll take over with Hallie now, Grandmother.” She knelt beside them and lifted the sweater briefly. “I think the bleeding’s lessening—we’ll pull her through. We must pull her through.”

  If only she could cry, Alex thought. I
n some strange way she felt nothing—as though all emotion had been shocked out of her.

  The smile that Susan leveled at her grandmother was filled with courage. With her special perception she seemed to understand. “It’s all right, you know, Grandmother. No matter what happens now, the truth is better than not knowing.”

  If only she could believe that. But what if the truth wiped away too many comforting beliefs that had enabled Alex to live for all these years?

  They could hear the sound of the ambulance coming from far down the highway.

  15

  Susan watched Peter supervising the paramedics as they put Hallie’s stretcher into the ambulance. Alex had chosen not to stay. Once the ambulance arrived and she found out that Hallie would survive her wound, she turned oddly remote, insisting that she could drive herself home in her own car.

  “Stay and help Peter, Susan,” she’d directed, and walked away, limping only a little.

  Now the ambulance was gone too, with lights flashing, and the grove of trees near the church seemed suddenly quiet—totally empty of sound. Susan touched the wet blood on her dress—blood that might so easily have been her own.

  Peter walked toward her across the grass, his stride long and driven by new purpose. When he reached her he drew her into his arms so suddenly that she gasped for breath.

  “You’re alive—and you might not have been, if it hadn’t been for Hallie.” He pressed his face against her hair. “No more time wasted! I want you in my life. Will you come into it and stay there, Susan?”

  The answer came easily. “Of course!”

  He kissed her hungrily—an almost angry kiss that defied anyone to stop him. Then he held her face between his two hands and kissed her again, more gently.

  Peter was all she wanted. They could share everything—work as well as love.

  “Let’s follow Hallie to the hospital,” he said. “I have a lot to thank her for.”

  In the car Susan managed to tell Peter all that had happened—including the not-yet-fully-accepted fact that John Gower was her grandfather.