Dream of Orchids
Page 18
“What does Cliff say?”
“He doesn’t know yet. And when Fern tells him, he’ll go along with what she wants. He always does. Anything for peace.”
“Why don’t you want this?” I asked directly.
The look she gave me seethed with impatience. “How can you come in here and take sides, when you know nothing? Nothing at all!”
“I don’t think I’ve taken anyone’s side. But it might help if you’d explain why you don’t want Fern to bring Alida here.”
“Because Alida can be dangerous. Fern’s an innocent in some ways.”
“Wasn’t Alida your mother’s good friend?”
Iris dipped her soup spoon so abruptly that liquid spattered to the rim of the bowl. “Alida hated Poppy. She hated her because Poppy had everything Alida wanted and would never have—including my father. She’s made him depend on her, need her. And I don’t for one minute believe that she meant to kill herself with those pills. That was just another means of worming her way into Cliff’s sympathy—and Fern’s. Fern’s too trusting! Derek and I both think that the worst thing that can happen now is to see Alida brought into this house.”
There was also a point that hadn’t been mentioned—the fact that Alida was working against Derek, who might very well be aware of her plotting. Yet when I thought of Alida’s action in tormenting me with Poppy’s orchid photographs, I could see the pattern of an unbalanced, possibly vindictive woman. And there was still the matter of Derek’s possible criminal activities that Iris might know nothing about.
“I don’t know enough to make judgments,” I said. “What do you want me to do?”
“Convince Fern that it isn’t a good idea.”
“Perhaps Derek could do that—she listens to him.”
Iris flashed me an angry look. “I don’t want Derek anywhere near Fern! My little sister has enough of an infatuation, as it is. She’s constantly embarrassing poor Derek. And Cliff is helpless to do anything about it, even though he sees perfectly well how she’s behaving.”
I couldn’t imagine a side of Derek Phillips that might be called “poor.”
There was a pause in the music, and we both kept still, eating our lunch. Cliff had apparently caught none of our words, and after a moment his fingers wandered absently into an adaptation by ear of some old Jolson songs. I wondered aloud what on earth “Swanee” could do for his imagination, and Iris almost smiled.
“I don’t think his mind is really on what he’s playing,” she said. “He’s off somewhere else. If you’re through, I’ll take the tray downstairs.”
“Have you heard the rumors that are going around about Derek’s finds?” I asked. That, at least, was safe to mention.
She’d started to rise, but then sat down again. “What do you mean?”
I told her about our visit to the pier and of Connie Corson’s “scuttlebutt.”
“That’s just Key West gossip,” Iris said. “It’s true that Derek’s made a bigger find than he wants advertised yet. I went out there the other day to keep an eye on things because he asked me to. This is a tricky time for Derek, but it will be over as soon as he can get everything into a safe place. That will be right after the boat party tomorrow. I’m just glad Alida won’t be able to attend that. You’re going to the hospital with Fern this afternoon, aren’t you? Please do as I ask, Laurel, and tell Fern it won’t do to bring Alida here.”
“How can I possibly tell her anything? I’ll have to wait and see what happens. Fern seems to be busy right now with the orchids she’s choosing for a display.”
“Yes, I wish she weren’t. I’d be glad to skip that this year. Fern thinks she’s doing this for Poppy—as though it would somehow bring her back. I enjoy working with orchids, but they’re not an obsession with me, as they are with Fern.”
I rose as Iris picked up the tray, but before I could return to the typewriter Fern came running up the stairs. She’d put on a yellow sundress that left her arms and back bare, with red thong sandals on her feet and a straw hat on her head.
“Are you ready, Laurel?” she asked, ignoring Iris.
Cliff crashed his fingers on the keys and swung his stool around. “What is this—Grand Central Station?”
Fern ran over and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, darling. Laurel promised that she’d go with me to the hospital to see Alida this afternoon, and we’d better leave now, since Marcus can drive us if we hurry. I’ve talked to Alida’s doctor, and we’re going to bring her home as soon as possible. I’ve got a room ready for her downstairs. She really shouldn’t stay where she is. She’s not sick, and it’s too depressing. But she mustn’t be alone. So it’s all right, isn’t it, darling? She’ll be happier here.”
“I suppose so.” Cliff didn’t look entirely pleased about the plan. “What do you think, Iris?”
Fern broke in quickly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks! She’s always against anything I want. Poppy loved Alida, and so do I.”
“Well—all right,” Cliff said.
Iris’s outer calm no longer fooled me. She was angry beneath the ice, and I suspected that she hadn’t given up her opposition to having Alida move in.
When she’d gone, I picked up the stack of copy I’d typed and took it to Cliff, who was at his desk again, rolling a fresh sheet into the machine.
“I’ll be back as soon as we return from the hospital,” I promised.
He waved me off, already lost in his imaginary world. “Fine—fine. Run along.”
As I went off with Fern, I had no idea of the surprise that waited for us at the hospital.
10
When we reached the hospital, Marcus waited for us outside. He said too many visitors wouldn’t be welcome, but I had a feeling that he didn’t want to see Alida just then anyhow.
As we followed a long corridor, I could sense Fern’s pleasure over the small triumph she’d won over her sister, and I wondered how much Alida might be used as a pawn between them.
“If it’s possible, we’ll bring her home right now,” Fern said over her shoulder as I hurried after her.
“Are you certain this is a good idea?” I asked, catching up. “Maybe Alida needs more time to be away from everyone. Have you talked with her? Does she want to do this?”
“Of course she does! She knows she needs people around her now.”
Fern burst eagerly through the open door of Alida’s room. A stranger lay sleeping in her bed. When Fern would have rushed in to wake the woman, I stopped her.
“Wait! Let’s go to the nurses’ station first and find out what’s happened. They may have changed Alida’s room.”
What had happened was quickly explained. Mrs. Burch had been checked out of the hospital by her ex-husband, who had come to fetch her this morning. Miss Iris York had given the order on the telephone to release her.
Fern looked horrified. “Did Eddie Burch say where he was taking her?” she demanded.
The nurse had no idea, and we moved away from her desk.
“You see what my sister is like?” Fern said. “She’s done it again! She tries to manage everything.”
She headed for the nearest phone booth and left the door open. I waited while she rang the house and got Iris on the phone. I could hear her clipped tones, but not her words. When Fern hung up, she caught my arm and pulled me along toward the door.
“Marcus has to help us right away. So come along!”
She was too excited to make much sense, and when we reached Marcus in his parked car, I was the one who tried to explain.
Fern broke in on me. “We’re going after them!” she cried, getting into the front seat beside Marcus, while I got into the back. Only a little while ago Iris had asked me to intervene so Alida wouldn’t move into Cliff’s house. Yet she must have already put this scheme, whatever it was, into effect.
Marcus made no move to start the car. “Slow down, Fern. Take a deep breath. Then tell me where we’re supposed to be going, and what you want to accomplish.”
“I doubt that,” Marcus said mildly. “This could be a good solution.”
“Then you don’t know anything! It isn’t good for Alida at all. So let’s get your boat, and you can run us over to the island right away.”
Marcus turned to look back at me. “What do you think about this, Laurel?”
He was great at asking my opinion when it didn’t matter. I’d begun to wonder if Iris might be less ignorant of Derek’s side interests than Marcus supposed and was deliberately spiriting Alida away, so she could take no action against Derek.
“I haven’t any idea what’s best for Alida,” I said. “But I suppose we could go to the island and find out what she wants.”
Fern was still excited. “She’s been kidnapped! This isn’t Derek’s fault—it’s Iris’s. So we have to rescue her, Marcus!”
Marcus switched on the engine. “All right—one rescue mission coming up.”
We drove to the marina where Marcus’s boat was moored, and when we were aboard the Seabird, Fern began to calm down. She even pointed out several pelicans perched on pilings out in the water as we went past. She helped with the sails as well, and we were on our way. If it hadn’t been for the questions about what was happening to Alida, it would have been a pleasant run.
The trip to Doubloon Key took more than an hour, and we knew that our approach had been sighted because one of Derek’s Cuban helpers was waiting to assist when we docked. The island was low, except for a rise in the center, and it was covered with palmetto and a tangle of sea grape. Rising from the highest point was a compact stone house built of white coral rock. The roof was sharply peaked to allow for a runoff of water into underground cisterns, and the rooms beneath seemed to stand open to sea and sky.
We followed a shell path to wide steps that led directly into a living room stretching the width of the house. Great conch shells that melted from speckled brown to salmon pink at the heart made stops for each side of the screened double doors.
The room beyond was stunning—beautiful in its simplicity—and I could almost forget why we were here, lost in its effect upon me. Three sides were indeed open to sea and sky, with folding doors that made a wall to shut out storms when needed. The colors were shell white and the green of gulf waters that could be seen through open walls. Only the blue cushioned sofa was not bound in bamboo. Varnished bamboo chairs and small occasional tables were woven and bent in intricate designs that added their own golden luster to the color scheme. A huge Chinese vase, nearly as tall as a man, stood in one corner, filled with red-leaved branches of sea grape. Under a glass dome on a table grew a lovely little tree of white jade. There were no draperies or curtains, but only the shuttered doors, folded open now, so that water reflections rippled the white ceiling and mingled with patches of sunlight on pale azure walls. On the floor were the woven grass rugs called pago pago.
A steady breeze blew through, carrying the pungent scent of the sea. Sky and water seemed part of the room—its real decoration—a room that swam in light but remained cool and serene.
The contrast between Derek and his house seemed hard to reconcile. I’d have thought his rugged personality more at home in a bar, or on the deck of a ship, than in so harmonious and civilized a setting.
Fern spoke at my elbow. “It’s a beautiful room, isn’t it? Poppy designed it for Derek and picked out the furniture. That’s one reason I love this house so much. But I’ll never come here again if Iris marries him. Maybe that’s why Poppy died.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
Fern turned away at once, as though she’d said too much.
From the rear of the house a Cuban woman whom Fern called Elena came to greet her in Spanish. Her English was halting, but Fern could chatter to her in her own language. The woman smiled at her, her black hair shining like satin in the sea light.
We followed her to an open, red-tiled area outside a rear door of the big room. A swimming pool shimmered blue under the sun, and on either side stretched two bedroom wings. As the woman started around the pool to the left, Marcus said, “I’ll wait on the terrace,” and again I felt his reluctance to see Alida. Fern and I followed our guide up shallow steps to a passageway that ran like a deck above the pool.
A door stood open on a small, charming bedroom, with wide windows that looked out over gulf waters. Here there were draperies with a tiny blue floral print, and again a grass rug from Haiti. The same blue print was repeated on the bedspread. A cane rocker and a bowl filled with colored yarns and white knitting needles invited a woman to comfortable leisure.
Alida lay stretched upon a flowered chaise longue, wrapped in a long blue cotton gown. Cushions had been piled at her back, and a book lay open across her knees, though she didn’t seem to be reading. Somehow, she looked younger—and quite peaceful and sleepy. I supposed she’d been given sedatives at the hospital. Perhaps that was how they’d managed to bring her here.
Fern rushed to her chair and knelt beside it. “You shouldn’t have come here, Alida! Why did you let Eddie take you away from the hospital without calling me? When we found you were gone, Marcus brought us over in the Seabird. We’ve come to take you home right away.”
Alida glanced at her briefly and closed her eyes again. “Iris phoned the hospital and said Eddie was coming to pick me up. Iris didn’t want me to stay at the hospital, and Derek offered his island.”
This was still very strange. By the time Iris had come upstairs with her tray for Cliff, she had already made these arrangements. Yet she’d asked me to dissuade Fern from her plan. She knew we were going to the hospital, and she had said nothing. And where did my father stand in all this? Did he have any idea of what was going on, or was he content to let Iris take everything into her own hands so he could return to his work? Perhaps that was what writers did in the face of a crisis. Perhaps it was what he’d always done.
Fern paid no attention to Alida’s words. “How could you possibly go anywhere with Eddie, when you can’t stand him?”
Alida’s tone grew dreamy, absent. Her defenses were down, and she mused aloud to herself. “Once, a long time ago, I could stand him. Though of course I always knew how different we were. Eddie was exciting in those days.”
Fern’s indignation increased. “Eddie’s a drifter and a bum!”
“I suppose he is—now. The funny thing is that sometimes I think he still cares what happens to me.”
“That’s ridiculous—him!” Fern cried. She pulled a chair close to Alida’s. “You don’t belong here. I’ve fixed a room for you at home, and that’s where we’re going to take you. Right now.”
For the first time, Alida showed some spark. “I don’t want to stay in your father’s house. I’m not a package for you to move around. I like it much better here. It’s quiet and calm, and nothing will be asked of me. Your sister has promised me that.”
“Why can’t you find it peaceful at our house?”
“Because there are too many—currents. Here there are none. I can drift along and pretend I’ve never had any other life.”
“But you do have another life! We need you. What about Cliff? How can you drop his work right in the middle like that?”
This time she answered more sadly. “I’m sorry. But Cliff will find someone else.”
“He already has,” Fern pointed out. “Laurel’s taken over your desk and your work.”
Alida glanced at me, undisturbed. “I hope you’ll please him.”
Something in her had given up to the point where even Cliff’s work no
longer mattered.
“I know why you won’t come home,” Fern wailed. “You’ve seen Poppy too, haven’t you? Just as I have! Only you’re afraid, while I want to see her. I want it with every bit of me. If only she’d just come close enough to talk to me—to us. Then she could forgive us all for not saving her.”
If Alida had given up with Cliff, she hadn’t quite abandoned Fern. She sat up and reached for her hand. “Stop that! You haven’t seen anything, and neither have I. But she’s haunting our lives just the same. She’s haunting you and me and Cliff. Perhaps even Iris. Somehow we’ve got to let Poppy go. That’s why I’ve come here. To see if I can—just let go. We need to talk about this, Fern. Really talk. I think I’m strong enough now. So let Marcus take Laurel back to Key West. Then Derek can send you home later. Or you can even stay here with me for a few days, if you like.”
This new suggestion seemed to quiet Fern. “Maybe I will. You go back with Marcus, Laurel. And tell Cliff we’re here. If Iris comes over later, she can bring me a bag.”
There seemed nothing more for me to do, but as I started to leave, Alida spoke again softly, half to herself. “I don’t know what I ought to do. I wish I really could be born fresh without anything having happened before. But it isn’t going to be like that.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. I wanted to ask her about the “burden” she’d mentioned in the note she’d left for me, but this was something I couldn’t speak about when others were around.
She nodded wisely, as though there had been some significant exchange between us, though I had no idea what she meant.
“If I don’t see Cliff again,” she added, “just tell him—oh, never mind. There really isn’t anything I can say to him. Or anything I can do.”
Fern bent over her. “Don’t talk like that! Of course you’ll see him again. You aren’t even sick any more.”
Alida lay with her eyes closed, scarcely breathing. The usual touch of rose on her cheekbones was absent, and her pallor seemed ominous. Alida had wanted to stop breathing—had tried to stop—and the way she looked now was all the more disturbing.