She tilted her chin up toward him and laughed. “That’s ridiculous! One doesn’t have to do with another. Yes, some women are vain but some men are too.”
“I know for a fact looks come first for a woman.” He pointed out at the lake again with his bat. “That’s all those girls cared about when they thought I was gonna throw ’em out there.”
“Well, not every woman would be so silly.”
He looked at the ground and kicked at a stone with his shoe. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
She moved so fast he almost missed it—the way her left foot pushed down into the earth and her right one popped up and out of his view. In one second she was waist deep in the lake. In the next her arms shot forward and she dove all the way in.
Then a deep laughter welled up from inside of Val and burst forth hard enough to make him bend over and grasp his knees. He couldn’t stop laughing or draw breath. This woman! Who was this woman? He’d never been so delighted, never in his life. It made him feel new to laugh like that. She swam two or three strokes before turning around and splashing her way back to the spot where she could stand. Water streamed down her head and torso, plastering her hair to her scalp and making her dress cling around her hips and thighs. She swiped her wet locks away from her drenched face.
“Are you gonna help me out or what?”
“Oh yeah. Yeah!” He straightened himself and reached out to grasp her hand. She used her other hand to pull her skirt above the knees so she could step onto the bank. Her face seemed to glow in triumph and she laughed with him. She put a fist on her right hip and stuck her hip out as though posing for a photograph.
“Well, Mr. Jackson? How do I look?”
“Beautiful. Just beautiful.” He shook his head in wonder. Everything in his head and heart seemed to distill down to one single focused desire—he wanted to take the sun of her face in his hands and kiss her.
“Ha!” She picked up her shoes with a big flourish. “That’s nice but I don’t give a damn!” She marched past him with her chin in the air.
He happily followed.
Just before the terrace came into view she turned and looked at him.
“I’m just wondering,” she said. She walked backwards slowly, achingly slow for Val. “If you’ve really changed, as you say you have, when are you going to appreciate it for yourself?”
She raised an eyebrow just enough to make him want to grab her and tear at the little wet buttons on her dress. But he saw his aunt and her guests sitting down to tea on the terrace. Elizabeth turned around and skipped up the steps. He heard the exclamations before he could finish the climb himself.
“Elizabeth!”
“Good Lord, child, what happened?”
He leapt over the last couple of steps. “I didn’t do it, Aunt Rose!” He raised his hands to proclaim his innocence but Gladys Vaughn stared daggers at him. She got up from her chair and put an arm around her friend to lead her into the house. Cecily frowned and looked confused. Aunt Rose’s eyes shrunk into a narrow squint.
Elizabeth laughed and waved off Gladys’s hulking figure. “It’s true, Rose. I did it myself. I wanted to make a point.” She looked at him and nodded. “And I think I was successful, right?”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, lowered his head, and bowed. “Yes, ma’am.” He sighed. “Point made.”
“Good.”
Annie stepped through the terrace doors with a stack of fresh towels in her arms. Elizabeth took one, thanked her, and buried her face in the cloth. Then she tossed it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you all at dinner.”
TWELVE DAYS LATER Val stood staring into the full-length mirror in his room. The white short-sleeved shirt stretched over the muscles of his chest and revealed through the unbuttoned collar the dark skin underneath. The creases of his navy blue pants were pressed hard and perfect. A flash of white from the lightning outside danced across the floor, but Val ignored it. On his desk lay the ivory sheet of paper decorated with the monogram “M.M.” in bloodred ink.
The letter was brief but he had spent the afternoon reading and rereading it. He was certain Mae’s laughter had been sewn into every word.
My dear Val,
Oh, tell me you can’t be serious. Walks in the garden? And do you drink afternoon tea? But then I’ve forgotten: you are visiting your aunt. I suppose this is how older people spend their days. Is that right?
I’m thinking of traveling abroad in August. There’s nothing interesting to hold me here unless circumstances change. Do you think they will? Of course I can’t tell the future like Mother Jenkins does in her storefront on Lenox, but I see things staying just the way they are. Nothing stands out to make me think anything else.
Of course I miss you, but neither of us has time for the obvious. Not when there’s still so much to do . . .
Mae
Val walked toward the door.
ELIZABETH SAT AT the grand piano in the library where the sound of thunder rolled around the room. But she didn’t seem concerned with it. Her left forearm lay draped atop the piano and she leaned against it, tapping out a few notes with one finger of her right hand. She wore a sleeveless white shirt decorated with a green paisley print and a dark blue skirt. White sandals showed her bare heels, her feet crossed at the ankles. Val stood patiently and waited for her to notice him. When she did, she sat up but kept her seat at the piano.
“Oh, hello.”
“Good evening. Where is everyone?” As if he didn’t already know. As if he hadn’t already discerned this shining moment of opportunity. He looked around the room anyway for her sake.
“They called it an early night. You know, the weather and all. Good sleeping weather.” She tapped on one of the piano keys.
“And what about you?”
“Just sitting here enjoying the quiet. I was wondering why Rose has this piano here. I haven’t seen anyone touch it all summer.”
Val moved toward her and ran his hands over the varnished red oak of the piano’s curved side. “That’s because it’s mine. My aunt bought it for me back when I was a kid. I used to play all the time.”
“You don’t anymore?”
He leaned his elbows on the instrument and clasped his hands in front of him. “Let’s just say I got distracted by other things.”
“Play something now! Please?” She got up to clear the bench for him and indicated she wanted him to sit, but he stayed put. He had to consider the move. It was unexpected and a little too easy. But then, he thought, maybe he could use that to an even better advantage.
“Oh, no.” Val shook his head. “I’m not falling into that trap.”
“What trap?” She positioned herself on the other side of the piano. “You’re being silly.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “I see what’s coming. I start playing something nice and you’ll start accusing me of making up a seduction scene or something. I’m no fool.” He put his hands up in front of him and backed away.
“No, I wouldn’t do that.” The back of her right hand rested on top of the piano. Her fingers, relaxed and open, looked, he thought, like a water lily. She slid them toward him, a gentle offering. “I promise. Look, I’m the one doing the asking. I really would like to hear you play.”
Val stared at her. He hadn’t played in a while and wasn’t sure if there was any music left in his tainted fingers. But then she might find it endearing if he let himself try, if he made a few mistakes in front of her.
“Okay, okay.” He moved toward the bench but kept his eyes locked on her. “Let’s see here.”
He sat down, tapped at a key, and thought about what simple tune he could plausibly execute. Then he remembered the song Sam had sung at the Swan all those weeks ago. He heard the words in his mind as he found the notes beneath his fingers.
Val was hesitant at first, but the melody wasn’t difficult. He found it easy to lay more notes on top of it until the music grew into full-bodied sound. He leaned
into the piano and pressed harder with both hands. It was such a strange song, but there was something he liked about it, something that drew him in like he was being wrapped in a quilt. He allowed the song to build until his fingers, electrified, wanted to fly up from the keys. But he insisted his hands remained grounded and he pounded onto the keys, enjoying the opposing pulls of flight and gravity. Then, too suddenly, the lyrics came and pierced him:
The greatest thing you’ll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return.
Val pulled up from the keys as though the ivory had burned his fingertips. He moved a hand across his face and was startled to find a thin film of sweat on the surface of his skin.
“I don’t remember any more.” He didn’t want to look at her. He turned his head and closed the lid over the keys.
She laughed. “You’re a liar!” She playfully hit him on the arm.
He couldn’t see. Purple spots mottled his vision and he stood. “Yes,” he said slowly. He rubbed his eyes and moved away from the piano bench. When he could see her face he saw it was streaked with confusion and her hand, the water lily hand, now reached out to him. “I am a liar.”
He wheeled around and left the room. The gallery hallway felt like a tunnel sucking him forward as he walked away from her in long regretful strides. He reached the main stair and started to climb. “Wait!” he heard her call. Her voice echoed behind him and bounced from the high ceiling above their heads. He kept climbing but she was fast—so light and so fast. He reached the second floor and she jogged up the last few steps and kept going until she had gained a few steps on him on the landing. When he saw how she had put her body so boldly in front of him to interrupt his escape, he realized this was where and how it would all play out.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, putting up a hand to make him stop. It landed on his chest and he allowed it to stay there.
He looked down into her face and almost believed himself when he said, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
He pushed his chest into her hand as though to move past her. “Just leave me alone.”
“No!”
Elizabeth took him by the arm and pulled. Of course he knew her room was closest to the stairs, but he didn’t know how small hands could wield such strength. They felt like bands of iron tugging on him.
She let go of him and closed the door.
“What’s wrong, Val? What’s wrong with this? I thought being friends was enough for you.” She touched his arm, but then backed away from him.
Val kept his hand on the doorknob. He wanted her to see he could leave at any moment. “Yeah, and that was a big lie, a whopper. I’m sorry, but I can’t go on pretending I just want your friendship when I want more. A lot more.” He leaned his head back against the door. What he said was so full of truth and lies it seemed his head would roll off his neck with the heaviness of it.
She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “This is my fault. I thought it would be okay, that we could be together and this wouldn’t happen. God is punishing me.”
“What’s going on, Elizabeth?”
She turned her back on him and started to move away, but he grabbed her by the wrist.
“No!” He pulled her until her ear was just under his mouth and he half whispered, half hissed into it. “I want to hear you say it! I want to hear it from your own lips!” She tried to shake loose from him.
“No! I can’t! I can’t!” He had her then and he knew it. He had to concentrate hard and pull carefully. This is where he would take her out of herself and what he would see, he was certain, would be shimmering, elemental, and his.
He wrapped his other arm around her waist and held her to him. “You tell me, Elizabeth! What is it? What is it?”
She paused her struggle and gasped. She pointed her chin down and away from him. But the words came, hushed and trembling: “I love you.”
Val’s features remained rigid. He picked her up and could feel the sobs rolling like waves up and down her body. He placed her on the bed, and saw her face soften and the tears subside. He moved faster, pulling her top out from her skirt and undoing the small buttons with his thick fingers. She stopped crying altogether then and watched him. When he had the shirt free and pulled open he looked into her eyes, deep brown and large, and suddenly his fingers froze. He stared down into her irises and a sickly acidic taste rose into his mouth. What he saw in her eyes made him feel as though he had been caught doing an awful and pernicious thing. Then he heard the music again, clear and insistent, as though someone had continued the song as he’d left it on the piano downstairs.
He looked away from her. “I—Elizabeth, I’m sorry.”
Val pushed himself up from the bed. His knees folded like cardboard beneath him and he stumbled away from her. He managed to right himself enough to get out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
CHAPTER 35
Elizabeth
Mercylands, Late July 1947
The lightning broke in shards of white across the floor of Elizabeth’s room. Rain fell in sheets and made the dark night darker. Elizabeth gave way to her sobs again and melted into the depths of water upon water. She could only hope there would be cleansing in such water, so she let herself sink further in.
When Val had picked her up she’d surrendered to a wave of exhilaration that quickly joined one of guilt, and the combined force of the two had bored into her soul so deep it’d anchored her to the ground. On that ground began the battle where she ripped herself in two as she struggled to let go for him, to give in to him. But she also remembered all she had lost in that moment—her marriage, her place in the world, her peace of mind, her connection to the Divine. What struck Elizabeth though was how wildly she fought to move away from the grief and toward Val, even hoping he would know how to help her. And he seemed to try. He was so close to her. His lips full and brown floated above and she, split between agony and ecstasy, waited for the kiss. But then he seemed to see something far away from them, and even in the low light she saw the shadow passing over his face.
He was toying with her.
Or was miserable, miserable as she was.
Which was it? The question tormented her not because of what one or the other meant, but because of the base fact she cared at all. She did care. More than that, she loved him. She loved Val Jackson and told him so. What she couldn’t tell him was how much he filled her up every single day, how the world sparkled with hope whenever he smiled, and how much she consciously, diligently, had to cut herself off from that hope and feeling of wholeness because she knew to love him would be impossible.
She didn’t hear Rose’s footsteps as she entered Elizabeth’s room. Elizabeth smelled her scent of rosewater first, then felt Rose’s hand, cool and comforting on her shoulder. Her touch brought Elizabeth back to some semblance of a present mind and she tried to quiet her tears.
“Honey, are you all right? I was going downstairs because I thought I heard Val on the piano.” Rose lowered herself onto the side of the bed and Elizabeth moved over to make room for her. She wore a blue satin robe and her hair was twisted into one long gray braid that hung down over her left shoulder. “I was so surprised. He hasn’t played in years.”
Elizabeth nodded as she sat up and wiped her eyes. “It was him. We got a little carried away.”
“Elizabeth, what’s the matter?”
She looked on Elizabeth so kindly that Elizabeth wanted to turn away and hide in shame but she forced herself to look into the eyes of her friend.
“Rose, I love him.” She breathed the words carefully because she felt them heavy and full of fear and wonder within her.
The elderly woman rocked back on the bed and sighed.
“Yes, well, I expected as much.”
“What should I do? I feel terrible, like the guilt will eat me alive! It’s unbearable.”
“What can I tell you?” Rose shook her head. “As old as I am, it just seems to me
the story is the same and nothing helps.”
“But why should that be?”
“Do you really think men ever meet us halfway when it comes to love?” Rose’s wrinkled, blue-veined hand patted Elizabeth’s hand as it lay prostrate on the bed’s yellow quilt. “Oh, they make a good show of trying, but they can’t do it. They just grab up all the love in their fists and take all the happiness they can.” She balled up her hand and it looked like a little world covered with tiny blue rivers. “They leave the guilt and the fear and everything else up to us. And what do we do? We take it like the fools we are. When was the last time you saw a man cry for love? They only think of themselves.” She released her fist and took Elizabeth’s hand. “My nephew is an extraordinary man and I love him like he was my own child. But I have to say for your sake, honey, he’s the worst of them all.”
Elizabeth’s chin sank down into her chest. “I know. I’ve been so foolish. I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“Now, wait a minute, don’t you go doubting yourself.” Rose wrapped her thin fingers around the curve of Elizabeth’s chin and raised her face to meet her own lively brown eyes. “This hasn’t worked out for Val either. You’re not like all the other women he’s gone stomping after. You gave him something he didn’t expect to find. I do know him, and whether he knows it or not, he’s been looking high and low all these years for something to prove to him that this life is worth living. He’s looking for hope and joy, like he’s looking for a kind of light. Ain’t no different than the flowers in my garden, looking to turn their heads toward the thing that will make them grow. That’s probably why he loves baseball so much, because it’s a safe place where he can feel a little bit of joy. But when he’s really in his joy, it’s like it’s so beautiful he can’t stand it. That’s why he doesn’t play the piano anymore. It’s like he thinks he doesn’t deserve being able to make music that beautiful.”
“Yes! I had to talk him into playing and when he did play he seemed to get upset. He stopped right away. And then we argued a little.” Elizabeth pulled her legs up and hugged her knees to her chest. “We ended up in here.”
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