A Ring of Endless Light: The Austin Family Chronicles, Book 4

by L'Engle, Madeleine;

  “Grandfather—what’s the matter?” I was frightened, I’d never heard Grandfather talk wildly like this before.

  He pointed to the newspaper on his hospital table. The headline was a plane crash, a big one, with everybody killed.

  “It’s not so much the crash itself”—Grandfather’s voice had returned to its normal quietness—“though that’s bad enough. It’s the vandalizing of the dead bodies for money and jewelry. The National Guard had to be sent for to protect the corpses, and thirty people were arrested. It seems that there are no depths of depravity the human creature cannot sink to. Sorry I startled you …”

  “Oh, Grandather—” I said helplessly. I’d avoided newspapers as much as possible this summer, and after pointing out the article on dolphins Daddy had kept what was in the paper to himself. And if Mother and John saw any horrors they didn’t pass them on. But not reading the paper only kept me from not knowing things; it didn’t keep them from happening.

  Grandfather reached for the box of tissues and blew his nose. “Maybe instant information isn’t good for us. We can’t absorb it.”

  “So we drop out,” I said. “At least that’s what I’ve done this summer.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have pulled you back in. Oh, Caro, is dropping out what I was doing when I left Boston and went to Alaska? Are anyone’s motives ever pure?”

  I hated it when he thought I was our grandmother even more than when he thought I was Mother.

  He continued, “And perhaps, my dear, my vocation in my last days is simply to pray. To pray for the broken world. To pray for people so lost they can rush to steal from fragments of dead bodies of their fellow human beings. I can no longer go bodily to where I think I’m needed. And prayer may in the end be stronger than all my actions. But I need your support, my Caro.”

  I didn’t know how to handle it. I went and called Daddy.

  Grandfather did have fever.

  Daddy gave him a shot of penicillin.

  But the fever didn’t cause the horrible things in the newspaper.

  Mother and Mrs. Rodney and Rob came in. They’d been doing errands in the village. Mrs. Rodney said she’d give Grandfather an alcohol rub to bring the fever down. She sounded calm and undisturbed.

  “His defenses are very low and he’s open to infection,” she said to Mother. “Don’t worry. This is just a cold and we’ll take care of it.”

  If anyone could take care of it, Mrs. Rodney could.

  Mother nodded, but she could not disguise the strain in her face. I felt helpless, but I asked, “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Yes, Vic. It was hot and sticky in the village. It’d be a big help if you’ll take Rob for a swim.”

  So I took my journal and my wet bathing suit and Rob and went down to the beach. After we’d had a swim Rob started to build a sand castle, and though I knew he wanted me to do it with him, I said, “Start off by yourself, Rob, while I copy out something for Adam he asked me to do, okay? Then I’ll help you with the moat.”

  I looked at Rob and he was happily concentrating on his sand castle. So I started copying out everything in my journal that referred to the dolphins and my meetings with them.

  And when I had finished, I remembered that he was coming for dinner and I hadn’t told Mother.

  But first I’d help Rob finish his sand castle.

  Ten

  After lunch Rob had a nap. I’d promised to sit with him till he fell asleep, which he did, almost immediately. His face was flushed and angelic and he had one arm flung over Elephant’s Child. He looked like my baby brother, but he wasn’t. Not any more. He hadn’t been a baby for a long time.

  Instead of going back down, I took my pen and notebook and started a story about a degenerate white dwarf trying to make a red giant fall off his horizontal branch.

  That cheered me up and when Rob woke up I was out of my gloomy mood.

  And we had a good evening.

  Adam seemed cheerful and easy, though after I’d given him my sheaf of papers and he said he would read them as soon as he got back to the station, he talked more to John than to me.

  After dinner Mother read, and we all relaxed and listened and laughed, and then we sang, and without saying anything we all chose things that Grandfather particularly liked, so he could hear them from the hospital bed in his study.

  And the world had somehow righted itself again.

  In the morning Suzy woke up with a sore throat and a runny nose and Daddy told her to stay home.

  “But Jacky and Leo need me!”

  John and I looked across the breakfast table to each other but we didn’t laugh, and we didn’t say anything. For me, at any rate, that was progress.

  Daddy said, “Better miss one day and get rid of your cold than go to work and get really sick. I’ll phone them for you. I don’t want you getting germs on the phone.”

  She started to protest, then said, “But tell them I’ll be there tomorrow, for sure.”

  Mother poured her an extra glass of juice. “And, Suzy, I don’t want you to go near Grandfather.”

  Now she did protest. “Why not? He has a cold. I probably got it from him!”

  Daddy, on his way to the phone in the kitchen, stopped in the doorway. “Suzy, your grandfather’s resistance to infection is very low. You ought to understand that.”

  She blew her nose and looked down at her plate. “Oh. Yes. I forgot.”

  Daddy simply nodded and went to the phone.

  Mother pushed a nonexistent wisp of hair back from her forehead. “Rob, you’ve been invited to the Woods’ again for the day. In the afternoon they’ll take you to the docks when the lobster boats are coming in, and you can bring us home lobster for dinner.”

  Rob’s face brightened at the mention of lobster. He’d seemed very unenthusiastic till then.

  Suzy asked, “What’re you doing today, Vic?”

  “Reading to Grandfather this morning if he’s up to it. This afternoon I’m going flying with Zachary, then dinner.”

  “You have all the luck!”

  Mother said, “I’m really not totally happy with the flying—”

  “Oh, Mother—” I started. Then, more quietly, “Zachary isn’t doing the flying. It’s a trained pilot.” I did not mention the stunt flying.

  Suzy said, “I bet it’s terrifically expensive.”

  “Money’s not Zachary’s problem.”

  “Or is it? People like Zachary don’t give away something for nothing.” Suzy’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he want of you?”

  “Suzy,” Mother remonstrated.

  “I think,” I said, “that he wants me to believe in him.” And I know that Zachary did want that, that it mattered. “He needs me.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” Suzy said, “a guy like Zachary’s catnip for someone like you. Anyhow, don’t get too beholden to him.”

  “I don’t feel any more beholden to Zachary than I do to Leo or Adam. Money isn’t what makes people beholden.”

  “It helps.” She sniffed and blew her nose again.

  “Come on, Suze, give me a hand with Mother and Daddy’s bed.”

  We made the big beautiful bed in silence. The bed takes up most of the room, and the east wall is all one huge window, right down to the floor, so that when you’re in bed there’s nothing between you and the ocean. I broke the silence. “Grandfather must miss this view.”

  Suzy burst out, “Vicky, you haven’t talked to me all summer.”

  I turned from the ocean and looked at my sister.

  I love her. Because she’s my sister. I can’t imagine the world without her. But I’ve never talked to her much. I’ve shared more with Rob than I’ve ever shared with Suzy. Maybe because Suzy’s always been so much better at everything than I have, even little things, like playing catch or spud. Have I been, am I jealous?

  Jealous. It’s an ugly word. It’s an ugly feeling. I don’t feel ugly about Suzy. But I don’t feel close. So, yes, maybe I am jealous. It’s not that I don
’t want Suzy to have everything she has. But when the gifts were being distributed I’d like to have had a few more.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered.

  “You talk to everybody, but you never talk to me.”

  “Oh, Suze—” but I didn’t find anything to say.

  “I mean, look at you this summer. You’ve got three guys interested in you.”

  “That’s a switch, isn’t it?”

  She overrode this. “And you let Leo do everything for you and you don’t do a single thing for him.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “You let him date you. You let him pick up the bill—”

  “I paid for my lunch—” If we’d been a few years younger this would have turned into a fistfight. As it was, Suzy continued the attack verbally.

  “Big deal. And I don’t think you even realize you’re shortchanging him. You take it all from him and you don’t give him anything. Jacky and I think it stinks.”

  I almost did hit her. “Leo and I are friends. That’s all.”

  “Does Leo know that’s all?”

  “Of course he knows that’s all! What do you think I am!”

  “I don’t know!” I saw tears trembling in her eyes. “I might as well not be here as far as you’re concerned.”

  “That’s not true …”

  “I’m miserable!” she burst out, “and you haven’t even noticed.”

  I hadn’t. I’d envied her going off to clean brass and paint the boathouse and have fun with Jacky. “What’s the matter?”

  She was really crying now. “I’ve wanted to be a doctor all my life.”

  “You and John have always known what you were going to do. You’re lucky.”

  She brought her voice back into control. “It’s one thing to operate on dolls. But I’m too old for dolls. And I don’t think I can be a good doctor for people. Or animals.”

  “Why not? Whenever there’s been an accident you’ve known exactly what to do, and you’ve done it, the way you did with that kid who fell and cut her artery on a piece of broken glass last summer, and everybody else fell apart, and you went right ahead and did what you knew was right till Daddy got there.”

  She blew her nose again. “I know I could be helping Mrs. Rodney with Grandfather’s blood transfusions, or even helping him bathe, but I can’t. I can’t do it! All I want is to get out of the house, and so I run away to Jacky, to anything that will keep me from seeing Grandfather.”

  I responded quickly, off the top of my head. “Suzy, you know perfectly well that when a surgeon’s spouse or child has to have an operation the surgeon doesn’t do it. Another doctor who isn’t emotionally involved does the surgery. You’re emotionally involved with Grandfather, that’s why you can’t help take care of him.”

  “Daddy’s emotionally involved.”

  “Yes, but not by blood. He’s related to Grandfather as an in-law. You’re related by blood. And haven’t you noticed how much time Daddy spends at Grandfather’s desk in the science stall? He takes himself away, too.”

  “Yes, but he’s working on his laser book. He has to get it finished this summer.”

  “I know, but he still makes himself scarce. Anyhow, you’re biologically involved with Grandfather.”

  “So are you.”

  “But I don’t want to be a doctor.”

  “But you haven’t run out on Grandfather and his illness. I have. You’re much stronger and better than I am, and I hate you for it. I hate you!” She began to cry again. “And John, too. I hate him. He’s always best at everything, and he’s always going to be voted the most likely in his class to succeed. But you know what? Statistically the people voted most likely to succeed usually end up alcoholics, or flops, so there!”

  I patted her, clumsily, astounded by her words. “Don’t cry too much. It isn’t good for your cold. You’ll make your nose all stuffy.”

  “It already is.”

  “And I’m not strong and I’m not good. Any time I’m alone with Grandfather and he does anything peculiar I call for Daddy. I’m just as miserable about Grandfather as you are.”

  “I’m not miserable about Grandfather, I’m miserable about me.”

  “Suze, if Jacky was hurt or sick, or somebody who wasn’t in the family, you’d be able to handle it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “I just told you, doctors aren’t supposed to take care of their own families when it’s anything serious.”

  “They don’t run out on them.”

  “You haven’t run out on Grandfather any more than John has. He works even longer hours than you do.”

  She looked at me hopefully. “You really think that? Honest?”

  Who was I to differentiate between a ‘real’ job and a ‘made-up’ job? “Honest.”

  Even when she was crying, even with her nose red from blowing, Suzy was beautiful. She looked at the big wad of tissues she was holding. “Thanks. I feel better. I’ll go to the incinerator and burn these. Then I’ll wash my hands with yellow soap.”

  I watched after her as she left.

  It was one thing to be surprised by Leo, someone I hardly knew.

  It was something else again to be surprised by my own sister.

  Mrs. Rodney told me that Grandfather would like me to read to him. “But not for long—maybe half an hour. His fever’s down, but he’s very weak.”

  He looked even paler than usual, but his mind seemed clear. “I’m not up to science this morning. I need to be amused.” He indicated his Bible. “Read me the Book of Jonah.”

  I’d never realized before what a funny story that is. We both laughed.

  When I was through, Grandfather said, “Funny how we hate to have God be more forgiving than we are, isn’t it?”

  “You’re forgiving, Grandfather.”

  “Not always, not easily, not if anyone hurts someone I love. By the way, how are things with you and that black-haired young man?”

  “Pretty good. I think. I’m going flying with him today.”

  “Is he still giving you his burdens to carry?”

  “Not really. Not so much. He does need someone to believe in him.”

  “Do you?”

  “About a lot of things, yes. I mean, he has a good mind if he wants to use it, but nobody’s really cared about making him use it. That’s why he took so long getting through high school. Grandfather, I do remember what you told me. I’m really not trying to save Zachary or anything like that. But I am trying to believe in him, because I know being believed in helps. It’s helped me a lot in my writing to know that you believe in me.”

  “I hope he won’t let you down.” Grandfather closed his eyes. “I think I’ll rest now, child. Tell Caro to wake me in an hour.”

  I put the Bible down, within easy reach, and walked out.

  Shortly after lunch Zachary came to pick me up. He appeared to be in an odd mood, a wild mood, and he drove much too fast.

  Finally I had to shout at him, “Zachary, if you’re going to drive like a madman, stop the car and let me out. Now.”

  He took his foot off the gas pedal and put on the brake. “Don’t you trust me? I’m an excellent driver.”

  “Nobody’s an excellent driver at that speed on these roads.”

  “Scare you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fun to scare you.”

  “Not to kill me. Or yourself.” But suddenly my stomach lurched. For Zachary it might be fun.

  But he kept on driving at a reasonable speed. As we neared the docks an old woman was crossing the road, using a cane, and hobbling along slowly. “She’s no use to society. Shall I mow her down?” He put his foot on the gas pedal.

  “Zach!” I screamed.

  He slammed on the brakes, but not before he’d given the old woman—and me—a good fright. He was grinning.

  “That wasn’t funny.”

  “Oh, come on, Vicky-O. You know I wasn’t going to hit her.”

  I tried to k
eep my voice light. “With you I never know.”

  “Keep you guessing, don’t I?”

  “That’s your intention, isn’t it?” I parried.

  We were at the dock now, with Leo waiting for us. Jacky stood in the doorway of the boathouse, carrying a can of paint. There was a big smear of paint across his upper lip, like a white moustache.

  “How’s Suzy?”

  “Very coldy.”

  “Tell her to take care.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  Leo helped me into the launch and we took off.

  Zachary didn’t talk much and I hoped he was over his manic mood.

  When we got into the little red Alfa Romeo he said, “I’ve really come along with my flying lessons. Want to see me fly?”

  “Not till you get your pilot’s license,” I said firmly. “And not then unless you’re less crazy in a plane than you are in a car.”

  He glowered. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “I didn’t mean it literally. But I don’t like it when you drive as though zombies were chasing you.”

  “Sometimes I think they are.”

  “Driving like a bat out of hell is not going to help you escape them.”

  He started the Alfa Romeo noisily, but the thunderous look was gone. “You were right when you said you’ve changed from last summer. You have.”

  “An improvement?”

  “Like most people, I don’t want anything I like to change. Let’s say you’re more of a challenge.”

  He drove at a reasonable speed till we got to the airport, and he didn’t try to knock off any more pedestrians.

  Art greeted us amiably.

  To my consternation, I was strapped into the seat behind the pilot. In this plane there were double controls up front, which meant that Zachary was going to fly, and I was certain my parents wouldn’t be happy about that. Neither was I.

  “Don’t worry,” Zachary called back to me. “I’ve been taking two lessons a day and Art says I’m a natural.”

  Art tapped his controls. “If he goofs, I can correct it. I’ve also made it clear that before he can do any fancy flying he has to know how to fly conservatively.” And to Zachary: “No tricks.”