“We’ll be warm in a minute.” She opened the door and stepped into the foyer, and the warmth of the house seemed to embrace her. It was the first house she had ever owned, and she had bought it at a low price, for it had been in a sad state of neglect and disrepair when she found it. She had planned the renovations and worked side by side with the workmen and often long into the night after they were gone, both to save money and to have the satisfaction of transforming the place with her own labor. It gave her a little feeling of pride every time she walked into the home she had made for herself.
Mike took her coat, and Beth went in and turned on the lamps in the living room. “Do you want a nightcap?” Beth called out to him as he hung their coats in the hall closet.
“Just some club soda for me. I’m on call early tomorrow.”
Beth poured them both some club soda and handed him one as he came into the room.
“What do you say,” said Mike, wrapping an arm around her, “we take these upstairs, where we can be more comfortable?”
Beth smiled at him. “Sounds good to me. Just let me close up for the night.”
As Beth went into the kitchen to check the back door and the windows, Mike looked around the room. “You know,” he called out to her, “this wouldn’t be a bad room to have a wedding, provided it wasn’t too large.”
Beth, who had turned on the back floodlights to check the garden, snapped down the switch and did not answer for a second.
Mike appeared in the kitchen doorway, his head cocked to one side. “Of course, we’d have to provide a lot of extra ashtrays.”
Beth exhaled slowly. Her heart was beating very hard. “I’ve never thought about it,” she said, although this was not precisely true.
He had mentioned weddings before. Whenever he did, she felt a funny combination of happy excitement and, at the same time, a little ratlike scurry of fear through her intestines. And there it was again. You are twenty-eight years old, she reminded herself, and this is the first man whom you could imagine being married to. Most of the men in her past had found her difficult, competitive, prickly. She had been called all that, and much more, before the door slammed and then were gone from her life. With Mike it had been different. Right from the start he had accepted her moods and applauded her accomplishments, as if they were the most natural thing in the world. With Mike she could bloom. She was sure of it.
But so much could go wrong between people. A marriage could turn so ugly and frightening. She knew that it could. She had seen it firsthand. But if you didn’t chance it, didn’t try…
“Never did, eh?” he asked in a jaunty tone. “Well, think about it.”
Beth nodded and squeezed him tightly. “I will.”
“I knew it,” said Mike with a grimace as the demanding ring of the phone shattered the air. “Well-wishers no doubt.”
“Let’s not answer it,” said Beth. “Whoever it is can wait.”
Reluctantly he let her go. “It could be the hospital.”
Beth nodded and walked over to the phone. “I guess this is what the life of a doctor’s wife is like,” she said teasingly. She blushed as she said it. Then she picked up the phone.
For a few moments she just listened to the voice at the other end. Mike watched as her normally mobile face with its lovely green eyes and fine features stiffened into a tight, expressionless mask. She made him think of a boat, clipping along with the wind, that hits a hidden rock and begins to sink without warning. He could not understand, from the monosyllables she spoke, what the call was about.
“All right,” Beth said at last. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Thanks for calling.”
Beth replaced the phone on the hook and stood staring at it.
“What’s the matter?” Mike asked. “Trouble?”
Beth raised her eyes from the phone and looked at Mike with a dull, distant gaze. Then she cleared her throat. “That was my aunt,” she said. “My father died today, of a heart attack.”
“Oh, baby, oh, no,” said Mike. “Come here. I’m so sorry.”
Beth backed away from him and waved off his concern. “No, no, it’s all right.” She frowned and bit her lower lip. “I’m—I’ll have to go up to Maine tomorrow.”
“Darling, what can I do?” Mike asked, coming over and putting his arms around her.
Beth shook her head absently. “I’ll have to pack. Maybe you could call the airlines for me. I need to fly to Portland tomorrow.”
“Sure I will. But talk to me. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Beth sighed. “Yeah.”
“Darling, you should go ahead and cry if you want. Don’t hold it in,” he said.
“I don’t feel like crying,” she said. “Mike, could you just make that call for me? I’d better go up and pack.”
“Okay,” said Mike, watching her quizzically as she turned away from him and headed for the staircase. He picked up the receiver and quickly dialed the airline. It seemed to take forever to get a reservations clerk on the line, but he finally succeeded.
“Have you got any direct flights from Philadelphia to Portland, Maine, tomorrow morning?” he asked.
The agent informed him that he would need a connecting flight through Boston and left him hanging on the line while she checked the possible connections. Mike cocked an ear toward the upper floor of the house while he waited, expecting to hear the muffled sound of sobs from the rooms above, but all he heard was the shush and slam of drawers opening and closing.
The agent came back on the line and gave him the flight times. Mike completed the arrangements and then hurried upstairs to the master bedroom.
Beth’s suitcase was open on the bed, and she was methodically, if somewhat listlessly, choosing what to put inside it.
“It’s all set,” Mike said. “Tomorrow morning at ten. You change in Boston.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Beth,” he said, “why don’t I come with you? I can arrange for someone to cover for me.”
Beth looked at the two sweaters she was holding as if she were weighing them in her hands. She put one of them in the suitcase and returned the other one to the drawer. Then she looked up at Mike with confusion in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll need both of them, do you?”
“What?”
“Both sweaters. I’ll be gone only a few days. What do you think?”
“I think one will be enough,” he said gently. “You know, it might help to have someone with you. I hate to think of you being all alone up there.”
“Well, I won’t be all alone. It’s all right, Mike. But thank you anyway. My sister is there. And my aunt and uncle.”
“You never mentioned that you had a sister, Beth,” he said, a little surprised.
“I didn’t?” Beth asked.
“I thought your father was it.”
“Yes, Francie. She’s much younger than I am. I guess she’s about fourteen by now. I hardly know her.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your family?” Mike asked.
Beth wrested a set of thermal underwear from the bottom of the stacking drawers in her closet. “It’s bitter up there,” she said, folding them into the suitcase. “I haven’t been back in a long time. Years now. Since my mother died, I guess. And that was, let’s see, about eight years ago. So I haven’t seen Francie since she was, well, pretty young.”
“Wow,” said Mike.
“Wow what? What’s the wow?”
“It’s a long time not to see your family. That’s all.”
“I suppose so,” said Beth.
“Take some turtlenecks,” he advised her as she stood helplessly staring into a bureau drawer. Beth nodded gratefully.
“What happened to your mother anyway? How did she die?”
“She was in an accident,” said Beth. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“I was pretty close to her. But my father and I never really got along. We never did. Anyway, I was up there after my mo
ther died, and he and I had a huge fight. And then, well, that was it, really. There was the occasional call or letter. It suited us both that way.”
Mike suspected that there might be pain behind the offhand explanation, but he could tell from the closed look on Beth’s face that he should pursue it no further for the moment.
“What about Francie?” he asked. “What happens to her now?”
Beth, who was stuffing socks into the corners of her suitcase, made an exasperated sound. “Why should you be so concerned about Francie?”
“I’m not concerned. I’m just asking,” he protested. “Don’t get mad.”
Beth shrugged. “Sorry. You’re right. I have an aunt and uncle who live up there in Oldham. That was my aunt May calling about my father. She’s my father’s sister. My uncle James is a minister there. They’re older, but they’re very nice people. Francie will go live with them. They’ve had two kids of their own, so they’re happy to take her. There, that looks like all I’ll need.”
“Beth,” said Michael, who was seated at the edge of the bed, “come here and sit down.”
“Mike, will you water the plants while I’m gone?”
“Of course.”
“I hope I won’t be gone too long. I have to get back to work. As it is, this couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
Mike grimaced at this remark and then tried to hide it, but Beth noticed it. She sighed and seemed to search for something to say.
“Look,” she said, “I know what you’re thinking.”
Mike shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset, but I’m not used to seeing you like this. You seem so stiff and, I don’t know, detached. And I know that’s not you. You’re not an unfeeling person. You’re the farthest thing from it.”
Beth frowned and jerked the zipper shut on her bag. Finally she said, “I’m sure you wouldn’t feel this way if it were your father, but we all don’t feel the same about our families. I can’t help the way I feel. I know you don’t understand, but I can’t explain it to you. Not right now.”
“All right, all right. I’m not trying to judge you. Believe me. Come and sit down here.”
“There’s the wake and the funeral. Then I’ll have to go through the stuff in the house and get Francie settled in with my aunt and uncle, and then I’ll be back. I figure three or four days. Five at the most. God, I hope it doesn’t take longer than that. I won’t be able to stand it.” For a moment there was a note of real dread in her voice.
Michael stood up and, taking Beth by the arm, led her from where she was pacing on the rug to the edge of the bed. He sat her down beside him, and she did not resist his efforts. She stared out in front of her, her mouth slack with apparent exhaustion.
“I’ll water the plants; I’ll look after the house; I’ll pick up the mail. Anything you need. Don’t worry about it. And Maxine will look out for everything at the office. The world will not fall apart while you are gone,” he said.
“I know. I know. I appreciate it, really.” Her eyes were blank.
“What I’m worried about, though, is you. Are you sure you’re going to be all right about this? I mean, I know it’s a shock, but you shouldn’t deny your feelings. Whatever they are.”
“Please don’t try to shrink me, Michael. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, okay. Why don’t you take a hot bath and we’ll crawl into bed? You need the rest.”
“I’m not tired now. I don’t think I could sleep. You go to bed.”
“Well, then I’ll stay up with you.”
“No, really. I just want to sit up for a while. By myself.”
Mike started to protest and then thought better of it. She had every right to want to be alone at a time like this, he thought. He leaned over and kissed her. “Don’t worry about the house or anything else. Just take care of things and hurry back to me.”
Beth managed a smile and stood up. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come up,” she said.
“Don’t stay up too late,” he said. “Try to get some sleep.”
“I will. Promise. And thank you.”
Mike embraced her again, but Beth was wooden to his touch. Once he had released her, Beth left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She could hear him opening the closet door as she went down the hallway toward the staircase. For a moment she thought of going back into the bedroom and crawling into bed beside him. But there was something hardening inside her that would not let any feeling, even for him, in or out. She thought suddenly of Brewster Wingate, beaming proudly at her, as if she were the best little girl in the world. It was funny sometimes how other people perceived you. He should see me now, she thought bitterly.
Beth descended the stairs in the quiet house. As she reached the bottom step, she felt a sudden chill run through her. She walked across the room and checked the thermostat, but the heat was at its normal level. She walked to the hall closet and reached inside for a sweater. As she closed the closet door, she could hear the sounds of water running in the upstairs bathroom while Mike got ready for bed.
Well, she thought, I’m sure he’s got a lot to think about The girl that he thought he wanted to marry turns out to have an ice-cube tray for a heart. Her own father dies, and she cannot manage even to fake a tear.
The idea of something warm in her stomach suddenly seemed very appealing. Beth went into the kitchen and turned the burner on under the teakettle. She stood with her back to the stove and stared out across the gleaming modem kitchen. He might as well know the truth now, she thought. Get it out in the open. This is not the Brady Bunch he wants to marry into.
The kettle whistled, and Beth turned and rubbed her fingers over the escaping steam. She poured the water into the teacup and then added a splash of brandy to it. The teacup shook in her hand as she began to shiver. Beth carried the rattling teacup into the living room and set it down on the coffee table. Then she walked over to the front windows to be sure they were closed. All three windows were shut tight. Outside, the tree branches snapped gently against them.
Beth was shivering continuously now. She walked to the hall closet again and dragged out a coat. She pulled it on over her clothes and her sweater, but the chills continued. Then she walked over and sank down into the comer of the sofa. She tried to pick up the teacup, but her hands were trembling so violently that she could not lift the cup to her lips, so she dropped it back onto the saucer.
As she pushed the saucer away from the edge of the table, her teeth began to chatter. For a few moments Beth stared blankly at the afghan, which was draped over the far arm of the sofa. Her mother had made it long ago, for Beth’s hope chest, she had said. And Beth had always treasured it, even when the hope of a happy marriage had begun to seem as remote to Beth as the possibility of a walk on Mars. She leaned across the cushions, pulled the afghan to her, and bunched the heavy handmade blanket around her shoulders.
The image of her mother’s face rose vividly to Beth’s mind despite the years that had passed since her death. It was a soundless image, for the memory of the voice was much harder to recapture as time passed. But the mild, wistful eyes were there, looking fondly at her. For a minute she stopped shaking. Then, gradually, her mother’s face was supplanted by the gloomy visage of her father, the young man on whom her mother had pinned her hopes for happiness, long ago on her wedding day. Beth snorted in disgust and huddled inside the folds of the afghan, clutching it around her with fingers that felt stiff and icy. She realized suddenly, in recalling her family, that she had not even spoken to her sister. She wondered if Francie was with Aunt May. She had not even thought to ask. She must be, Beth thought. Where else could she be? Beth glanced at the antique gold clock on the mantel. It was much too late to call now. Besides, what would she say? It was just too late. “He’s dead now,” she said aloud. “It’s too late.”
Her teeth began to bang together with fearful force, as if her jaws were in an uncontrollable jerking spasm. Chills rushed through her body in waves. “I’m so co
ld,” she muttered in amazement, and her chattering teeth clamped down in the inside of her mouth. A rush of warm blood spilled across her tongue. She wanted to reach up and stem the flow, but she found that her fingers were frozen to the blanket.
Chapter 2
THE BUS FROM THE AIRPORT bounced along the narrow highway, which was scarred and pitted from a succession of brutal Maine winters. It wound through the harsh, rugged countryside, stopping in each of the scattered small towns along its tedious route. The bus was nearly empty of passengers, although it had held about two dozen when it began its milk run from Portland.
Beth gripped the seat in front of her and absorbed the jolts as they came, accustomed to them after the long ride. Occasionally she looked up to make sure her suitcase was secure on the rack above. Then she resumed staring out the window at the bleak, familiar landscape of her childhood.
It has its beauty, she thought. No doubt about it. But it was a desolate beauty for the most part. You got those days in winter that were dazzling with brilliant blue sky and snow-covered evergreens. And in the summer it could be heavenly when the wildflowers bloomed and the rivers sparkled in the welcome sun. But most often this was how she remembered it: gray and forbidding, with sharp-edged boulders covered by patches of snow and trees the color of lead against dank clouds that drifted like smoke through the mountains.
Beth sighed and checked her watch again, impatient with the plodding bus. It was nearly five o’clock, and she had already had a day of unending frustration. Everything had been late. Heavy fog in Philadelphia had delayed her departure. Then because of a snowstorm in Boston, she had missed two connecting flights. It was nearly four when she finally arrived in the Portland airport. The snow had turned to icy rain and then back to fog. She bought a ham sandwich wrapped in plastic and ate it at the airport bus stop. She had been tempted to rent a car at the airport, but she knew it would be treacherous driving on the icy roads, and besides, she didn’t really need it. She could use her father’s car when she arrived. There was no point in having two cars.
Little Sister Page 2