“Hey, Mom,” he said as he passed Ethel’s chair. Her arm was hanging out the side, her chin to her chest, a book lay open on her lap.
“Don’t wake her up!” Arianna hissed. “I’m hoping to get dinner on first.”
“How’s she been today?”
Arianna shrugged, grunted, and poured him a cup of coffee. It was leftover, reheated from the morning, and the way she sloppily poured and plunked it on the table was a clear indication she was doing so out of sheer obligation.
“Quiet, thank God. Gave me a chance to mop the floors and clean the cupboards.” One was standing open where she’d pulled the spices out for the night’s rabbit.
Caleb frowned. He didn’t like how they’d become progressively more barren as the weeks had gone by.
He spoke suddenly and without thinking. “I was considering asking Jon if I could come back to the boat on the weekends.”
“They don’t fish on Sunday,” she replied, unimpressed with his sacrifice.
“I could go out alone on Sunday.”
She fluttered her hand. Do whatever you want it seemed to say.
He glanced off to the side, frustrated. He desperately wanted everything to be normal again and it was far from that. He heard Arianna violently chopping a carrot. The noise seemed to disturb Felicity, and she began to grunt.
Arianna dropped the hand holding the knife to her side and let her head fall back. “Dammit.”
“I’ll get her,” Caleb said.
At Caleb’s touch, Felicity quieted. He bounced her on his shoulder, pacing with short steps. He heard Arianna resume her chopping with a little less force. Turning to make the length of the living room again, he paused and squinted. Something wasn’t right. In fact, Caleb realized as the hair on the back of his neck raised, something was very, very wrong.
“Ahna, how long has my mother been sleeping?” he called.
“Since after breakfast.”
Caleb inched closer. “Mom?” he said gently, nudging her chair with his toe.
“Please wait to wake her up,” Arianna called. “Let me get dinner in the oven.”
He ignored her and reached out taking his mother’s arm that was dangling over the arm of the chair.
It was stiff.
He yelled for Arianna.
She came but didn’t rush. Caleb hastily put Felicity back in her cradle. He turned and pointed with a shaking hand.
“What?” Arianna glanced between Caleb and Ethel.
“Check for a pulse.”
When she hesitated, Caleb rushed forward. He wedged his fingers between her chin and neck. He didn’t need to search for a pulse that wasn’t there. She was cold.
With his hands on his head, he took a few steps back. “Oh, no,” he whispered.
Arianna stood, staring, barely breathing herself. The house took on a deafening silence.
“How long has she been like this?” Caleb asked, his voice breaking. Arianna hadn’t moved the smallest of muscles. “How long?” he screamed.
Arianna looked over with wide, skittish eyes. “I…I don’t know.”
Caleb broke down in sobs, not wanting to look at either of them. Savrene and Samuel were in the doorway, looking on with fear and concern. Samuel reached over and took Savrene’s hand.
“How could you go the whole day and not know she was dead?” he turned and yelled at Arianna. She winced but didn’t take her eyes from Ethel’s body.
Caleb walked past the twins and braced his hands on the counter, his head hung down. Arianna’s face was a blank slate. She went forward slowly and knelt by the chair, putting her hands on Ethel’s arm. She looked like she was sleeping. It was easy to pretend for just a few more moments that she was. Her eyes closed, her face relaxed, one hand still rested on her favorite book—the one she loved for David to read to her. Arianna had one fluttering thought she was able to grab on to.
We don’t need that little house now.
She rested back, sitting on her heels, eyes still on Ethel’s shock of unruly white hair. Finally, a second thought.
I should cover her up. But she made no move to do so. The sound of a strong man choking against tears in the background echoed around in her mind but did nothing to spur her to go to him. Felicity had worked up to a good wail and it, too, fell on Arianna’s deaf ears. There was only one thought now. It started as a distant whisper and grew more insistent until it filled every corner of her mind. She heard it, understood it, and accepted it.
I am the most horrible person that ever lived.
***
Jonathan and Aryl joined Caleb as the sun was setting. He was weaving through the blueberry trees as if he were checking on the budding flowers and the general health of the small orchard, but in reality, he saw nothing. His hands moved automatically, his mind shrouded in sadness.
“They’re here to take her,” Jon said as he approached, “if you want to say goodbye.”
Caleb rolled a leaf between his thumb and finger. “I already did.”
“They want to know when you’d like to have the funeral.”
Caleb looked over and then up, desperately trying to think. “I don’t know. Soon as they can.”
“I told them she’s to be buried next to your father. I know that’s what you all wanted,” Aryl said.
After a delay, Caleb nodded. “Thank you.” He began to walk, Jonathan and Aryl following with some distance. Once out of the orchard, he pressed his back against a tree and slid down.
“I knew she wasn’t well. I knew it would happen one day. Maybe even one day soon. I just never expected…”
“You never do expect it. And you’re never prepared,” Jonathan said, thinking back to the sudden death of his own parents in an automobile accident. Some days, it felt like decades ago. Other days, it felt as if it had just happened.
Aryl remained quiet. With both his parents still alive, he didn’t feel like he had anything to say that would help. And having witnessed both his friends lose parents, he dreaded his own inevitable loss even more.
Caleb drew his knees up. “I keep having the thought that it’s for the better, you know? That’s crazy.” He ripped a handful of grass and then tossed it aside. “She was miserable, incontinent half the time, scared, losing her mind… but to think that it’s better that she’s gone is…”
“Is one way to look at it,” Jonathan said, sitting down. “I know I’ve had that thought a few times. And I can tell you I’m glad my parents aren’t here to deal with the struggling, with the hand to mouth existence. They worked hard their whole life, and it wouldn’t be fair that they suffer in the end. There’s nothing wrong with being glad she isn’t going to hurt anymore.”
Caleb pressed his lips together and gave a hard nod. From the corner of his eye, he could see the mortician and his assistant carrying Ethel’s draped body away.
***
Muzzy never had free time. She only had the time she allotted to certain things. Today she had allotted two hours to helping Peter with the house. She still had three weeks before she had to be out of her building but knew time would creep up faster than a dreaded deadline.
With a metal scraper, she worked bits of old wallpaper off the plaster in the foyer.
“It’s a shame. This is really a nice pattern.”
“We can replace it with something else eventually,” Peter said. He was in the dining room, standing on a bucket, painting around the light fixture on the ceiling with a lovely bright white. Muzzy glanced at her master, the clock. “I’m going to go meet with Grace Whittley in half an hour.”
“When you’re done there, are you coming back?” he asked.
“No, I need to get the copy ready for tomorrow’s paper.”
Peter frowned. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Have more good news?” Muzzy asked, leaning back to see him past the doorway.
He forced a smile. “Just wanted to talk to you about some things. Maybe I’ll finish up early here and meet you over there.”
<
br /> She shrugged, went back to her frantic scraping, trying to get the most done before she had to leave. For the first time ever, she willed time to move faster, anxious to meet the new potential contributor to the Rockport Review.
***
Arianna had locked herself in her room. Each of the women, Maura included, had knocked, tried to talk to her, and got no reply. After a few hours, the door finally cracked for Ava and she slipped in.
Arianna was so intoxicated that she could barely walk. Somehow, she made it back to her bed. She flopped down on her stomach. Ava sat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Arianna didn’t talk and Ava was glad. She didn’t want to seem cruel or discount Arianna’s grief, but she certainly didn’t understand why it had thrown her into all this when it was Caleb’s mother who had died. But she’d never really understood Arianna and assumed the sobs and tears were the release of months of pent-up tension from a very difficult situation. She sat beside her silently until she fell asleep.
***
Grace Whittley was waiting in the open door for Muzzy to arrive. She called hello and pushed her wheelchair back to allow room for Muzzy to enter.
“Nice to meet you, Grace,” Muzzy said and took the girl’s hand. She looked about Muzzy’s age, with long blonde hair, large brown eyes, and bones light and delicate as a bird. Looking down further, she could see why the girl was cripple. Her legs were twisted, deformed to the point where they looked different lengths.
“Please, come sit down,” Grace said, leading the way into the parlor. It was a large, neat room with tall windows letting in a lot of light. At least two bookshelves were set against every wall crammed and stacked with books. In the center of the room sat a desk and typewriter. “I’m so happy you came. I don’t get many visitors.”
“I’m glad, too. I don’t get many people offering to help with the paper.”
Grace came to a stop by the window and turned her chair around. Muzzy sat in a nearby high backed chair.
“I have every paper you’ve ever published. I was so happy for Rockport to have a real newspaper and even more pleased that a woman was running it.” From a nearby table, she pulled a sheet from atop a stack.
“Here’s your first one,” she said, grinning. Of course, Muzzy had a copy of every issue starting with the first, but it had been months since she’d looked at the earlier ones. It was nothing more than a two-page newsletter really. It hit her then how much she’d grown since the release of this glorified leaflet she had been so proud of. With a wistful smile, she handed it back to Grace.
“I heard you like to write?”
“I had dreamed of being a journalist, back before I accepted just how bad my legs were. When you’re young, you think there’s nothing that can stop you, even your own limitations.” She glanced down at the odd shaped bony knees jutting from her skirt. “I used to be able to walk. But then things kept getting worse, and I know now that I can’t chase stories and search for leads. Since my life has been nothing but reading and writing, I thought I could still find a way to contribute.”
“I’m sure we can find something,” Muzzy said. She was cautious about getting overly excited or offering too much. After all, she hadn’t seen what this woman could do yet.
Grace was quick to show her. “Here’s a story from the Boston Globe that I rewrote. He’s a decent journalist, but I think my way sounds better. And here’s a short story I did just a few weeks back. Oh! And here are three articles from the Rockport Review where I found typos.”
Muzzy choked. “T-typos?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “It’s all right, minor things.”
Muzzy quickly scanned the article, seeing circled in red her own mistakes. She looked up, flustered.
“I can’t believe…I must have been…I work really, really long hours. I edit my own articles and sometimes—”
Grace put a hand on her arm. “You don’t need to explain. You are human, after all.”
Muzzy managed a weak smile, refused to accept the fact that she was human and set her eyes on the article again. It was horrifying, embarrassing, cringe-worthy to stare at that red ink circling her errors.
“Please, don’t give it another thought. The only reason I showed you is to prove that I could be useful in a number of different ways.”
“Do you have any idea what I’d give for an editor?” she asked, shoving the article away as if it were filthy.
“Well.” Grace swept her hand over herself. “Here I am.”
Muzzy quickly deflated. “I couldn’t have you take on this kind of work without paying you. However, since I’m renting your father’s house, and my expenses will actually be lowered, I think I can work something out. Even on a part-time basis. For now, let’s see what stories you have that we could start publishing.”
Grace nearly burst with excitement and began shuffling.
***
Jonathan and Ava drove home, an air of sadness about them. Jean sat in the backseat, frowning. He didn’t like death and grief. He wanted things to be the way they were. The Jenkins farm had always been a happy place for him. A big, vast world of adventure and fun. He had a special bond with Arianna and he worried about that. She wouldn’t let him in when he knocked.
“Will she be okay? Auntie Arianna?” he asked.
“I think she’ll be fine,” Ava said, turning to him, smiling. “She took care of Ethel for quite a while, and it’s always sad when someone dies, even when they’re very old.”
He didn’t look like he believed her.
“I heard Arianna let you talk to her?” Jonathan asked.
“Well, she let me in the room. But then, all she did was cry. She said a few things, but she was very drunk, and I didn’t understand any of it. I think she feels guilty. Somehow, she blames herself.”
“Maybe. Or it’s just the shock of it.” Jonathan wouldn’t pretend he knew what was going on in Arianna’s mind. Nor would he try. That was a circus he’d never willingly buy tickets to.
“How’s Caleb?” Ava asked, adjusting Amy on her lap.
Jonathan sighed. “As well as can be expected. It would help if he and Arianna were on better terms when this happened. He could use her support right now.”
They hit a pothole and everyone in the car jostled. Amy giggled.
“What are we going to do about Eddie?” Ava asked. She already had a good idea of what should be done and wondered if Jonathan had come to the same conclusion. As it turned out, he had.
“I hate to put off picking him up, but I wouldn’t want to bring him home with all this going on. I’ll write…or better yet, telegram the orphanage. I’ll tell them there’s been a delay, and we’ll be out next Sunday.”
“I was hoping…oh, well.” Ava sighed and looked out the window. Jonathan could read what she wanted to say but knew she was too kind to say it. She would never broach the subject of asking Arianna’s help with a party right now.
“We’ll organize our own welcome home party for him,” he assured, taking her hand.
***
Caleb woke up with a start and found Arianna gone. Her pillow still had the imprint of her head, the sheet neatly pulled back. His instinct was to worry about her, what she was going through, where she’d gone in the middle of the night. But his own grief kept him from caring too much. After all, it was his mother, and Arianna had come to detest caring for her. To look into Arianna’s eyes and see that she was glad or relieved to be rid of the burden would be too much. So he lay in bed, wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. The bedside clock chimed two times. He heard her downstairs, moving about, getting into cupboards, then nothing.
She’s probably having a drink, he thought. The idea sounded good, so he got out of bed and, clad only in his shorts, went downstairs.
One dim light illuminated the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. She was sitting in the living room in the dark, nestled in the corner of the sofa with her knees drawn up. She clutched a drink with both hands.
“Is the
re any left?”
She didn’t take her eyes off Ethel’s chair.
“Under the sink,” she said in a ragged voice.
He padded back, opened the squeaky door, and reached in.
She must have just gotten up, he thought as he held it up. There’s half a bottle left.
He debated joining her in the living room or simply going back upstairs with the bottle. He swirled the brandy around in the glass for a moment and then gulped. He heard her sniffle and it actually brought him a little comfort. If she were glad to be rid of Ethel, she’d be upstairs sleeping like a baby.
He sat on the other end of the sofa and felt like there was an ocean’s distance between them in every way. He supposed there was.
Within moments, the silence was suffocating.
“Maura said she’d help with the cooking for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about that,” he said, frowning at his glass.
With a barely discernible nod, she took a sip, eyes still fixed.
Caleb regretted not asking Jonathan and Aryl to take the chair out earlier. He didn’t like to look at it. Thankfully, it was shadowed enough so that if he angled his head, he didn’t directly see it.
He finished his drink, rose to get more, and decided to just bring the bottle. Then they shared more silence.
He felt like she should say something and wondered why she didn’t. Then he remembered she was selfish, and even at this moment, when he’d lost his mother this very day, she would feel, somehow, it was all about her. Expect sympathies to flow to, not from her.
Unable to look at the chair, unable to look at Arianna, he lowered his eyes to his glass.
A third drink had him sufficiently numb, and he thought he could fall back asleep. Without a word, he rose.
Arianna spoke before he entered the kitchen.
“She deserved better,” she whispered.
Caleb turned.
“In her final days… she deserved better than me. I had no patience with her. I didn’t know how to handle her. She made everything so hard!” She grunted in an attempt to swallow a sob. “I told you and told you I couldn’t handle this, but you never listened.” She was less successful this time, gasped and tilted her glass back. “You know what the last thing I said to her was? I told her I didn’t want her here anymore.”
Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 7