Carlie and I begged to go along, and the third night Papa said we might if we would sit quietly during their rehearsal. He asked Aunt Maude if she would like to go as well, but looking very haughty, Aunt Maude said it was too hot to leave the house.
After the peach pie Aunt Maude had become quiet and said only what was necessary to Eleanor. When Aunt Maude heard that Papa and Eleanor were to sing together at the picnic, you could tell she disapproved, for she wandered about the house surrounded by a sulky cloud of anger that settled over all she did. When Carlie and I left for the Thurstons’ with Papa and Eleanor, Aunt Maude’s resentment followed us all the way like a snarling dog nipping at our heels.
Though it was early evening, the August heat still hung on so that in the walk from our house to the asylum I felt trickles of perspiration between my shoulder blades and on my forehead. The leaves on the trees had grown dull and dusty; the daisies drooped; the butterflies seemed weary, hardly bothering to flutter their wings. The setting sun was red hot, and it tinted the large white asylum a rosy pink. Inside the building it was cool. Whatever heat managed to get through the thick brick walls stayed up in the high ceilings and left us alone.
After greeting us, Dr. Thurston said he had work to do in his office, and Carlie and I settled quietly on the davenport, nibbling on molasses cookies, while Macduff sat nearby hoping for crumbs. Mrs. Thurston seated herself at the piano and held her hands up in the air, waiting for Eleanor and Papa to stand beside her. I could see that Eleanor was uncomfortable in the Thurstons’ sitting room. She stood a little apart from Papa, staring at the floor and clutching her hands together as if they might fly apart, but once the singing began, Eleanor forgot her shyness. The song, “Oh, Promise Me,” was sad in a beautiful way. Even Carlie paused in her eating of the cookies to listen, though only for a moment.
After the rehearsal was over, Eleanor went on to her room in the asylum, and Papa and Carlie and I walked back in the soft darkness. Carlie, knowing that at home bed was waiting for her, kept asking Papa questions to make the walk longer. “Why are there shadows from Dr. Thurston’s trees when there isn’t any sun? ”
Papa pointed to the full moon, and that made Carlie ask questions about what kept the moon up in the sky. Her next question made Papa stop and look at her. “Why does Aunt Maude hate Eleanor?”
“Carlie, Aunt Maude doesn’t hate Eleanor. I believe she is jealous of Eleanor. Unhappily, Aunt Maude believes love is like a glass of water, just so many sips to go around, when really it’s like scooping water from a river. Take as much as you like. The river just fills right up again.”
In the distance we could see the lighted windows of our house. For several seconds Carlie thought about what Papa had said, and then, seeing that we were nearly home and bed was coming, she asked, “Why don’t moths come out in the daytime?” And no more was said about Eleanor and Aunt Maude.
On the day of the picnic Carlie and I were up with the first light, hanging out the window to be sure there were no rain clouds. Even Aunt Maude looked forward to going, although she couldn’t keep from asking Papa, “Why can’t the patients have their own picnic?”
To which Papa replied, “The whole purpose of the picnic, Maude, is to show how much the patients and the staff have in common, not to separate them.”
The picnic was held on the front lawn of the asylum. The flower beds had been tidied, the grass cropped to a smooth green carpet, and benches set about to make the grounds into a huge outdoor sitting room. Some of the patients seated on benches were accompanied by attendants. I guessed those were the patients from the back wards and wondered if Eleanor’s friend Lucy was there.
Men were pitching horseshoes, the clang against the iron stakes making a ringing noise. A croquet court had been set up, and I saw Louis, the gardener, frowning as someone tramped over a flower bed in search of a wooden ball. Aunt Maude joined Mrs. Larter, their large hats overlapping as they bent toward each other for chattering purposes. Carlie headed for a long table where the asylum cooks were setting out bowls of potato salad, several great hams, pickles, hills of rolls, angel cakes with thick frosting, cherry pies, and jugs of lemonade.
I had pried Carlie away from the food to watch a game of baseball when we heard Eleanor’s laugh. A sack race was getting started. It was men against women. Cries went up for the Thurstons, and to our surprise Dr. and Mrs. Thurston appeared to expect the invitation. Mrs. Thurston gathered her skirts and Dr. Thurston took off his jacket, and they both climbed into sacks. Papa followed suit, encouraging Eleanor and tossing sacks to Carlie and me. We waited for the race to start. There were a dozen of us falling and picking ourselves up and toppling over again.
Everyone gathered around to see the Thurstons cheerfully make fools of themselves. Some of the women who stood about had put up parasols against the sun. Aunt Maude was one of them. Carlie and I waved frantically to get her attention, but she was staring at Papa, who was helping Eleanor into her sack. Aunt Maude’s face was very red. A moment later the signal was given for the race to begin, and off we went, Carlie trying to keep up with my bigger bounces. I saw that the other racers were holding back so that the Thurstons could win, and they did, to shouts of congratulations. Eleanor came in second for the women. She stood there looking flustered and happy and laughing in a way I had never heard her laugh at our house. For the first time I saw that she was not just our Eleanor but Eleanor herself.
When it was time for lunch, Papa spread our blanket on the lawn and sent us after Aunt Maude, but Aunt Maude would not come. “It’s unhealthy to sit on the ground,” she said. “Verna, bring me a plate of ham and potato salad and a glass of lemonade.”
Because Aunt Maude had the company of Mrs. Larter, who stayed with her on the bench, I thought nothing of it, but Papa scowled. “I believe your aunt has forgotten how to enjoy herself.”
After lunch, as we all lay about the lawn, full and sleepy in the sun, the entertainment was announced. A maypole had been set up, and six women in white dresses and with wreaths of flowers in their hair advanced toward the pole and gathered up the ends of six ribbons that had been attached to its top. Around and around they danced as they sang a song about May that didn’t make any sense because it was August. I had to cover Carlie with the blanket to keep her from giggling. A patient played “Yankee Doodle Dandy” with a mouth organ, and one of the attendants recited “The Wreck of the Hesperus,” which frightened Carlie so much that she was back under the blanket. At last it was the turn of Eleanor and Papa. Eleanor didn’t move until her friends gave her a push. As she walked up to join Papa, she kept her eyes on the ground as if she were searching for something. When she reached him, there were cries of encouragement, and after a moment she looked up at Papa, who nodded that they should begin. There was no piano on the lawn to accompany them, but all the rehearsing had helped them to sing together in perfect harmony.
The moment the last note faded away, there was loud applause. Carlie and I stood up and applauded until our hands were sore. Eleanor and Papa bowed to the audience, and Eleanor hurried back to her friends, who threw their arms around her.
A man pulled scarves, and then a rabbit, from a hat. Carlie was sure the rabbit was meant to be hers and was furious at the man for making it disappear. When the picnic was over, we looked for Aunt Maude, but she wasn’t there. Papa said, “I saw her leave a little while ago. She must have been tired.” There was a worried frown on his face. Carlie and I, bored with sitting still and happy to be let loose, ran home ahead of Papa.
I expected Aunt Maude to be flustered and angry, but she was bustling around, her sleeves rolled up and an apron tied around her waist. She said, “I’m making a lemon sponge dessert for supper tonight. Eleanor never gets it right.” Because of the picnic, Eleanor had the day off.
Carlie was wandering around the house, looking on shelves and in cupboards. She complained, “I can’t find my polliwogs.”
Aunt Maude said, “They were beginning to smell, Carlie, and I was s
hort of canning jars for the peaches. I threw them out.”
Carlie shouted, “No, you didn’t!”
“Don’t contradict me, Carlie. They were dirty, ugly things. I can’t think why you would want them.”
“They were getting their front legs,” Carlie sobbed. She ran outside and began searching around the house. I heard her wailing, and when I went outside, I found her bending over her dead polliwogs, lying like ink stains on the grass. She ran into the house and began kicking Aunt Maude on the shins.
At that moment Papa walked into the house and snatched up Carlie. “Carlie! Stop that! What’s gotten into you?”
As Papa carried her up to her room, Carlie was screaming, “She killed my polliwogs.”
Papa came downstairs, taking each step carefully, as if the stairs were steep and dangerous. “Maude,” he said, “I wonder if I could have a word with you. Verna, I noticed the rose bed hasn’t been weeded. That’s your job. Go outside and do it right now.”
I went out, but the minute the door closed on me, I scrunched down, hardly breathing, under the open kitchen window. Papa was saying, “Maude, I believe you are upset at how close the girls and Eleanor have become. Because Eleanor had given Carlie those polliwogs, you thought to punish her, the Lord knows why, and all you did was upset Carlie. What you did was thoughtless and cruel.”
Aunt Maude sounded like she was crying. “I have tried to do my best and be a mother to those girls, but I can see I’m not wanted here.”
Papa’s voice softened. “Maude, that’s not true. Of course you are wanted. I am only pointing out that deeds have consequences, and if you had given a little thought to it, I am sure you would have realized how upset Carlie would be. As for Eleanor, she is a very competent young woman and is trying her best.”
“You are letting that woman take my dear dead sister’s place.”
Papa snapped, “That is unworthy of you, Maude. No one could take Isabel’s place, but you must admit that Eleanor has been very good with the children.”
“Edward, you may as well know that if that woman comes back into this house, I will leave.”
“You can’t mean that, Maude.”
“I do mean it. I can take care of this house and the girls without any help from her.”
There was a long silence. I could not believe Papa would give in, but he must have felt sorry for Aunt Maude. With a terrible feeling of doom I heard him say, “Well, all things considered, it might be best. I learned today that they think at the asylum that Eleanor is well enough to go home for a long visit. This might be a good time for her to do it. We certainly can’t have another scene like the one this afternoon. It’s very bad for the girls.” I heard Papa’s footsteps coming to the door and dashed to the rose bed.
Papa called, “Verna, would you go upstairs and see to your sister?”
Carlie was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her face very red and angry, her eyes flashing. “I hate Aunt Maude. I hope she explodes into a thousand pieces.”
I tried to cheer Carlie up by letting her play with my best doll, which I didn’t usually do because she always made a mess of the hair when she combed it.
When Papa called us for supper, Carlie refused to come downstairs. “I won’t eat her food. She touched it.”
“Carlie, don’t be stupid. Of course she touched it. How else could she cook it? ”
“She touched it with the same hand she used to kill my polliwogs.” Carlie was half upset and half enjoying the scene she was making.
Nothing would make her come downstairs, so Papa had to go up and carry a sullen, silent Carlie down and place her at the table. She sat there with her mouth tightly shut, staring straight ahead, refusing to eat. Aunt Maude coaxed her. Papa ordered her. Still she refused. Finally, Papa shrugged and said, “Well, one meal more or less won’t make any difference.”
After supper Carlie followed me out of the house. “Let’s go to Green Lake and get some polliwogs,” Carlie said.
“We’re not allowed to go there unless someone is with us,” I said.
“Well, Eleanor can take us tomorrow.”
I should never have told Carlie when she was already unhappy, but it was all I could think about. I was feeling almost like Mama had died all over again. So it just came out. “Eleanor won’t be back tomorrow,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“I overheard Papa and Aunt Maude talking. Aunt Maude said she wouldn’t stay if Eleanor kept on working here. Papa said Aunt Maude should stay.”
“Eleanor’s never coming back?”
I shook my head. “She’s going home to the farm.”
“I’m going to starve myself to death, because I’ll never eat anything unless Eleanor cooks it.”
I was sure Carlie liked food too much to give it up—even for Eleanor—but I had an idea. “Listen,” I said, “if you really refuse to eat, I’ll promise to sneak food to you. If Papa thinks you’re starving, he’s sure to get Eleanor back.”
“You promise you’ll get me stuff to eat?”
“I promise.” I was thinking only about bringing Eleanor back. I wasn’t thinking about what my plan might do to Eleanor.
EIGHT
The next morning Carlie refused her breakfast. Aunt Maude looked hurt. She took away Carlie’s plate of scrambled eggs and stirred up a batch of pancakes. Pancakes were Carlie’s favorite, but Carlie shook her head and closed her mouth tighter than ever.
Papa said, “Just ignore her, Maude. She’s bound to eat when she gets hungry.”
It was easy to snatch some of the leftover pancakes and put them in my pocket. Carlie complained, “They have fuzz from your pocket and no syrup.” But she ate them.
At dinnertime Aunt Maude said, “I’ve made deviled eggs for you, Carlie, the way you like them with chopped pickle.”
Carlie wouldn’t pick up a fork. She just sat there. Even when Aunt Maude put a plate of Carlie’s favorite coconut macaroons on the table, Carlie just looked at them for a long minute and then looked away. Later, eating the deviled egg and the macaroons I had sneaked up to her, Carlie asked, “How soon will Eleanor come back?”
“Papa has to get worried first,” I said.
At suppertime Papa was angry. “This has gone far enough, Carlie. You have made your point, and this foolish behavior must stop right now. It’s endangering your health, and I won’t have it.”
Carlie slunk down in her chair and wouldn’t look at Papa.
“Do you hear me, young lady?”
I was afraid Carlie would give in, but she only stuck out her chin and said, “I won’t eat until Eleanor comes back.”
Aunt Maude jumped up and left the table. Papa said, “You see how unhappy you have made your aunt Maude, Carlie?”
“I don’t care,” Carlie said. “She made me unhappy.”
“Carlie,” Papa said, “Eleanor has gone home.”
Carlie said, “She’ll come back if you ask her.”
Papa stood up and threw his napkin on the table. “Go up to your room, young lady.”
Carlie slipped off her chair and climbed the stairs, stomping one foot after the other. Papa went into the kitchen after Aunt Maude. I grabbed some ham and bread and ran upstairs to Carlie. My sister snatched the food and gulped it down so fast she nearly choked. Then she grinned. “This morning, while Aunt Maude was in her bedroom, I sneaked some dried apple slices from the pantry and ate them.”
After that it was a game. I never thought about our doing anything wrong. I only wanted Eleanor back. It wasn’t fair that first we had lost our mother and now Eleanor was gone. Besides, I was sure Eleanor would be happier with us than she would be with her father.
At mealtimes Carlie sat at the table refusing food, shaking her head, her mouth pressed shut, her fists clenched. Aunt Maude’s voice would start out normal. Soon it would get shrill, and her face red. Papa would calm Aunt Maude, and then he would talk to Carlie, explaining in a reasonable voice that she must eat for her health. After a while Papa w
ould grow impatient and lose his temper. He would send Carlie to her room. By the end of the third day Papa looked worried, and I began to feel guilty about sneaking food to Carlie. It was easy to do. It was the end of August, and the asylum gardens were full of food: tomatoes, peas, and carrots. Carlie had to eat them uncooked, but she was so hungry, she didn’t care. I picked wild blackberries and took leftovers from the icebox and a piece of cake from the pantry. Aunt Maude asked why I wore the same dress three days in a row. She never suspected that it was because it had large pockets.
Although she wasn’t supposed to be eating, Carlie was playing just as she usually did, following me around, chasing rabbits, making hollyhock dolls. Papa watched Carlie with a puzzled look on his face. The evening of the third day he called me aside. “Verna, are you giving food to Caroline?”
I had guessed this moment would come, but I hadn’t known what I would do. The idea of lying to Papa was terrible, but I told myself that a lie wasn’t so wrong if it was for Eleanor’s sake. Papa hadn’t been at the farm to see how unhappy Eleanor’s father made her. I thought about having to suffer through years of Aunt Maude. “No,” I told Papa, “I haven’t given her any food.”
“Is she getting food somewhere else?”
“No. I’m with her all the time.”
“Listen,” I told Carlie afterward, “if you aren’t eating, you should be weak. You shouldn’t be running around. You should stay in our room.”
“I want to go outside.”
“Well, you can’t. Papa is suspicious.”
It helped that on the next day it rained. Carlie refused breakfast and dinner and lay on her bed looking sad, which had more to do with the rain and having to stay inside than with being hungry because at dinner I sneaked part of my sandwich and a handful of brown sugar from the bin. Brown sugar was Carlie’s favorite, but she had trouble getting so much down all at once.
The Locked Garden Page 6