by Marta Acosta
“Young Lady, if you were really so concerned with money, you might be more agreeable to the Council.”
“It’s very different to earn money through one’s craft than to be given money for complying with unreasonable demands.”
“No one could ever accuse you of the latter.”
I leaned against the cottage. “I don’t know, Edna. I did try, especially with the wedding, to do what Oswald wants, because, well, because all I want is to be married to him and be a real part of your family.”
“You’ll always be a real part of our family, Young Lady.”
And that was enough to make me cry. She put her arms around me and let me sob on her pretty blouse. After a few minutes, I struggled to control myself, and she said, “Is everything all right?”
I sniffled and wiped my eyes. “I guess I’ve got wedding jitters. Once it’s over, and we all settle here and things go back to normal…” Her expression made me stop. “What is it?”
“I’m going to be moving,” she said. “Thomas wants me close by and I think you and Oswald need your privacy. I need my own place, too. Don’t look at me like that. You must have imagined that this would happen eventually. I’ve given enough indications.”
“I thought you were just talking! I didn’t think you’d really…Thomas isn’t right for you, and I’ll miss you.”
“Thomas is right for now,” she said dryly. “I’ll miss you, too. I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that when we first met. Now go wash your face and make yourself presentable.”
I was in my room doing as she ordered when I heard the buzzer sound for the gate. A delivery truck was there and I signed for a package from Nancy’s cousin, Sissy.
Inside the large cardboard box were layers and layers of crisp white tissue, and when I opened them I saw luscious folds of pale violet satin.
I took the dress out and held it before me in the mirror. It looked as if it would fit me perfectly. It was so pretty that I couldn’t bear to put it away in the closet. I hung the hanger on a hook near the window, so that the slight breezes would air it out.
As I walked through the house I heard Cornelia’s voice upstairs, so I went to her room. Sam was sitting on her bed as she reached into one of her bags and said, “Here it is,” as she brought out a gorgeous gift-wrapped box. “It’s the next size up so the baby can wear it next winter.”
“Hi,” I said and stood in the doorway, thinking of the kitschy tourist T-shirts I’d bought for Sam’s toddler. Now that I knew how to sew, I could make something more personal for her. “Cornelia, my wedding dress just arrived. Would you like to see it?”
“Of course! I’ll be right down,” she said.
But when I went to my bedroom, the wedding dress was not on the hanger.
I checked the closet even though I knew I hadn’t put it there. I turned around, knowing that things don’t just vanish. A flash of color caught my attention. I looked out the window and saw my dress.
Cornelia and Sam had come downstairs and were in the kitchen as I stormed through. They followed me outside to the garden. My beautiful, beautiful dress was tangled in a freshly watered bed of roses and smeared with mud.
“How could this happen! Who did this?” I was shouting and trying to extricate the dress from the thorny branches but the softly sheened satin was snagging and catching.
Sam looked confused, and Cornelia’s expression was intrigued. She even said, “Isn’t that interesting?”
When I freed the dress from the rosebush, I held it aloft and shouted at Cornelia, “Did you have anything to do with this?”
Sam looked at me as if I was crazy. “She’s been with me for the last hour.”
Oswald, attracted by the shouting, came outside. “What’s going on?” Oswald asked as he took in the scene.
“Someone took my dress from my room and threw it in the mud.”
Cornelia said, “It was not I. I have a witness. I’m completely innocent.”
“Not guilty is not the same as innocent,” I snapped.
Everyone began talking over one another at this point. Cornelia noted that I’d also lost my ring. Sam thought no one should jump to conclusions. Oswald wondered if there could be a rational explanation.
I ranted about a conspiracy and people being out to get me and added, “What about the car crash?”
Sam said, “We’ve already settled that it was an accident. The evidence was conclusive.”
“There are no accidents,” I said, which was contrary to my belief that life was indeed a series of haphazard occurrences.
Oswald drew me aside and said, “Babe, you need to calm down.”
“I don’t want to calm down!”
“You went through a crisis recently. Have you noticed any ‘lost time’?”
Though he spoke soothingly, I was not soothed. “Lost time? Are you implying that I did this myself?”
“It’s a symptom of disassociative fugue states. Think about it-the vision distortions, the ring, this dress. They all happened after your accident.”
I grabbed his arm and pulled him farther away from the others. “They also happened after Cornelia came,” I hissed. I was also thinking about my first visual distortion in the City and the woman who’d threatened me on the phone. But Ilena couldn’t have done these things.
“Sam was with Cornelia upstairs. How would she know how to sabotage the car wiring to look as if it had been damaged by rats? It isn’t possible.”
“How do I know what’s possible with you people?” I regretted it the moment I said it.
“You are crazy,” Oswald said.
I remembered an old movie called Gaslight where the husband tries to convince his wife that she’s crazy by moving things around the house. “Someone’s trying to make me think I am. These aren’t just coincidences. They weren’t precipitated by the accident-the accident was part of it.”
Edna had heard the commotion and came from her cottage, and now everyone was watching us argue. Oswald failed to convince me that I was being paranoid, and I wondered just who was out to get me.
We were so caught up in our discussion that we didn’t notice Sam leaving our group to open the gate for the car that had arrived. The black Mercedes rolled almost silently into the car park.
Ian and Ilena got out. She was wearing an expensive wisp of cloth that barely covered her hoo-ha, and her long legs looked even longer, her hair more blond, and her features more striking. My anger drained from me, and all I could do was hope, hope, hope that Oswald wouldn’t suspect anything.
Ian barely glanced my way to say hello, and that hurt me more than it should. He said to Oswald, “Nixon asked that I join the meeting today, and Ilena wanted to see Cornelia.”
Ilena gave me a cool greeting, but she had been that way when I’d met her before. Cornelia fell on the model with many kisses, flips of hair, and exclamations.
You’d think that a guy like Oswald, who looked at nekkid women as part of his job, would be jaded about what passed for beauty in the fashion world, but he was as dazzled as the others.
I did a quick State of the Chica summary: Some invisible person had buried my ring and trashed my dress. Vermin had eaten the wiring in the car, nearly killing me. The man I’d last had sex with was here with his girlfriend, who’d called me a chubby pickle and possibly threatened me. My fiancй thought I was sabotaging myself while in a fugue state. A small loony man had sold my fiction as his own memoir for seven figures. My beautiful dog was still dead, and Edna was moving away. I’d have to make my wedding tunic again and start the stupid fruitcake again. And Mr. Nixon was on his way here.
The only way I could have felt more miserable was if someone had cracked a hive of yellow jackets over my cabeza. At least then I’d have an excuse to run away screaming. Now I smiled politely before slipping into the house and laying the damaged dress across my bed.
Edna helped me put together platters of sliced meats, cheese, bread, and fruit for lunch. She said, “I’m glad to
see that you’ve composed yourself, Young Lady.”
“Only outwardly. Inside I’m a boiling cauldron of rage,” I said as I arranged grapes in a semicircle over a wedge of Camembert and fanned out crackers on a platter. “Oswald thinks I’ve been doing destructive things without being conscious of them. It is a rational explanation, but it isn’t the correct explanation.”
“What do you think is the correct explanation?”
“Someone is out to get me, which seems to have become an occupational hazard of being me. How else can you explain what happened to my wedding dress?”
Just then, one of the black cats that had been living under the house came slinking into the kitchen from the open back door. I bent to give it a slice of cheese and it dashed outside again.
Edna looked at the door and looked at me. “Cats can be very mischievous.”
It would have been a reasonable explanation if it hadn’t been for the threatening phone call. But I couldn’t tell Edna about that because then I’d have to tell her about Ian.
Things were so bad that I was actually relieved when Mr. Nixon arrived after lunch. He looked more approachable in a light-colored suit, and he enthusiastically befriended the dogs who had come in search of leftovers and attention.
His affection for the animals made me feel kindly toward him. I was happy to step away from the guys glomming onto Ilena, so I went to Nixon and said, “The dogs have a great life out there, running in the fields and living in a pack.”
“I have a boxer,” he said. “She was supposed to be my wife’s, but she decided that she owns me.”
“My dog was like that. She adopted me.”
He looked down at the four dogs surrounding him. “Which is yours?”
I pointed off toward the pond. “She died a few months back. She’s buried by the pond, but I visit her every night after I finish my run.”
He seemed interested in our conversation, but Gabriel arrived and it was time for our meeting.
Oswald managed to tear himself away from Ilena and said, “Good luck with Nixon.”
“Won’t you be there?”
“Gabriel and I are not invited,” he said. “Milagro, please listen to Nixon before-please listen to what he has to say and think about the long-term benefits for us.”
I nodded and then Sam called me to the study and closed the door. Ian sat in an armchair, his face impassive, gazing out the window, and Mr. Nixon was at the desk. He seemed friendlier since we’d connected on the topic of dogs. I joined Sam on the sofa and he gave me an encouraging, hopeful smile.
“So here we are again,” I said.
Ian looked at Nixon and said, “The sooner we can conclude this matter, the better.”
Nixon told him, “We do appreciate your time. It shouldn’t take long.” He opened a folder on the desk. “Miss De Los Santos has only to sign our loyalty agreement and I will be on my way. I’ll just get a pen…”
He opened the desk drawer and I spotted a bit of pink fuzz. Nixon had, too, and he gave me a look of complicity before picking up a pen and then shutting the drawer. “Sam has explained that you have been going through a stressful time since your accident. The Rules Committee is therefore willing to allow you to reconsider your decision. Sign your name and our business is done.”
I didn’t even look at the document. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to be a member of any club that relies upon fear and secrecy to operate.”
Nixon took my decision calmly. “I see that you’re resolute. You understand that you’ll be forfeiting our protections?”
“Yes, I know.”
Nixon turned to Ian and asked, “Ducharme, do you have anything to say to her?”
Ian stood. “No. If you have any other business with me, I’ll be visiting Mrs. Grant at her cottage.” He walked by me without a word and left the study.
I stared after him, feeling his coldness like a blow, and then I realized that both Sam and Nixon were watching me.
Nixon leaned back in his chair and said, “I’ll need a word alone with Sam and then I’ll take your decision back to the Council. Best wishes on your upcoming marriage.”
There had been no discussion, no arguments, no threats. “You won’t interfere with my marriage to Oswald?”
“Is there anything I could say to change your mind?”
“No.”
He shrugged his narrow shoulders and smiled. “Then what can I do? I hoped to convince you, but since I haven’t, the Rules Committee will accept the inevitable. It is your loss, however, Miss De Los Santos.”
I got up and went to the door and said, “There’s just one more thing. Oswald, Sam, and Gabriel all tried their best to get me to agree to your terms.”
“Our relations with the Grant family will continue as before. They are valued members of our community.”
Nixon departed shortly after. The rest of the afternoon was a bittersweet reminder of what I’d loved best about being at the ranch: the company of friends and family. If others noticed the distance between Ian and me, they probably attributed it to Oswald’s jealousy.
As the sun set, we sat on the terrace, drinking martinis, noshing on olives and bread, and talking over one another. Our mood warmed and softened, espнritu de los cocteles. I breathed the clean country air and I was glad that at least one of my issues was resolved.
Edna and Cornelia left with Ian and his consort to meet Joseph in town for dinner. Ian and Ilena would not be coming back. And that resolved another issue.
While Sam and Gabriel were chatting in the dining room, I caught Oswald by himself and said, “No more celibacy requirement.”
He didn’t look as happy as he should have. “I’m worried about you.”
“I know I wasn’t in a fugue state, Oz. Your grandmother thinks that maybe one of the cats-and they’ve been sneaking inside-dragged my wedding dress outside. Nancy will know how to clean it.”
“I’m not just talking about the dress.”
“We’ve got the wedding jitters. We’re stressed out. We’ll relieve that stress tonight and everything will be better.” I believed that as I kissed him.
I left Oswald and his cousins. I changed into my running clothes and went out to stretch my legs, burn calories, and clear my thoughts. This was the first night that felt like summer, the heat of the day hanging on.
On my second lap, as I approached the pond, I saw someone standing near Daisy’s grave. I stopped running and walked slowly until I recognized Mr. Nixon.
“Hi,” I said. “What are you doing out here?”
He smiled and said, “I was bored at the hotel, so I decided to accept Dr. Grant’s invitation to come back and relax.”
I hadn’t heard Oswald inviting Nixon back, but there was so much talk, I might have missed it. “It’s lovely here at night.”
He was looking up at the sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars. Do you see Romulus and Remus?”
I was struck by his suddenly whimsical nature. “Which are they?”
He stepped close and pointed up, saying, “There, the bright ones are Castor and Pollux.”
I was staring into the sky when he pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at my head.
twenty-two
chain of fools
I f he’d been aiming at another body part I’d have taken the chance of running. He kept facing me and took one step backward, just out of my kicking range. From his left pocket he pulled out the fuzzy pink handcuffs. “Put these on.”
“And if I say no?”
“You have remarkable healing abilities, Miss De Los Santos, but even you can’t recover from a bullet through your brain. Put them on.”
I considered flinging them at his face, but he would still have a clear shot at me. “So it was you all along,” I said. “You’re the one who set up the car crash.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sneered. “That was an accident, but it would have solved all our problems. Now the bereaved misfit girl is going to drown herself close to
the grave of her pet.”
“No one will believe that.”
“They will after your recent paranoid rantings. Of course, I wouldn’t have to go through this messiness if Ducharme had eliminated you as he was supposed to do when you were first turned. A pity that I won’t get to sample any of your blood.”
“Ian and Oswald say it’s the most incredible thing they’ve ever tasted,” I said. “Wouldn’t you like a drink before I go?”
He chuckled. “I’m not as easy to seduce as Ducharme. Not that he’s interested in you anymore. No more stalling, Miss De Los Santos. Off you go.” He pointed the gun toward my head.
“Won’t the handcuffs be evidence of wrongdoing?”
“On the contrary! They’ll be evidence of perversion and a disturbed mind. All the more reason for the Grant family to hush up your very timely demise.”
“Go to hell.”
“Ladies first.” He waved the gun.
I took one step toward the pond, looking for a rock to grab. That’s when we heard the short sharp bark.
Nixon kept the gun pointed at me, and I glanced toward the sound. Pal was loping toward me, but something was odd about the way he looked and moved. In a second I realized that the snarling animal was not Pal, but another wolf, smaller, a female. She leapt at me, jaws open, white teeth gleaming in the darkness.
I twisted my body and blocked her with my shoulder. She fell and came at me again. I kneed her chest, and she went back with a yelp. I tried to wrest my hands from the pink handcuffs, but they were stronger than they looked.
The wolf was crouching now, more cautious, as she circled me. I turned, too, and kept facing her, my arms as wide as they could be in their constraints.
When she went for my throat, I looped my arms around her and rotated her body so her back was toward me, and then I threw myself atop the writhing creature. Her neck arched back, her jaws snapped in fury.
I could have killed her then, but she was such a beautiful animal. “For God’s sake, Nixon, get help!”