When Papa called Carlie for supper that evening, Carlie wouldn’t come downstairs. “She’s not feeling well,” I said. “She just lies there on the bed.”
I followed him up the stairs. Carlie was pale. She really did look sick. “Caroline, this has gone far enough,” he said. “You are ruining your health. Give it up and come downstairs. Aunt Maude will make you whatever you like to eat.”
Carlie shook her head. No matter what Papa said to her, she wouldn’t answer him but just clamped her mouth shut. Tears were running down her cheeks. I knew she wasn’t hungry and began to worry. Papa stopped being angry and looked upset. The minute he started down the stairway, Carlie jumped up, snatched the potty from under the bed, and was sick into it.
When she was finished, she told me, “It was the brown sugar. I was afraid Papa would see it coming up and know I was eating.”
Downstairs we could hear Papa having a conversation with Aunt Maude, and Aunt Maude being angry about something, but Papa just kept on talking in a low voice, and after a bit Aunt Maude stopped answering back.
The next morning, when Carlie refused to come down to breakfast, Papa said to Aunt Maude, “I’m going out in the buggy.”
“Where are you going, Papa?” I asked. Papa just glowered at me. Aunt Maude stalked into the kitchen and began banging pans. When the screen door slammed shut after Papa, I ran upstairs.
“Carlie, we won. I’m quite sure Papa is going after Eleanor.”
“Not we, me, Verna. I ate all the raw carrots and peas and the brown sugar. You had real meals.”
“If I hadn’t given you food, it would never have worked. And it was my idea. Anyhow, if Eleanor is coming back, what difference does it make?”
We knelt on Carlie’s bed and watched out the window. We knew it would take a couple of hours before Papa got back, but we didn’t move. The rain had stopped. Outside, the hot sun made steam come up from the puddles and the wet paths. The trunks of the trees were a shiny black from the rain, and in the garden the drowned delphiniums lay on the ground. People who had stayed inside to keep out of the rain were hurrying from the asylum to their outdoor work.
The time dragged. I had to go down to dinner when Aunt Maude called. She sat right there and watched me the whole time, so I couldn’t put anything in my pockets. She was very angry. “Your father is much mistaken if he believes it is wise to give in to the whims of a six-year-old.”
I was certain now that Eleanor was coming, and if Eleanor came, I was pretty sure Aunt Maude would leave. I believed the same carriage that carried Eleanor to us would carry Aunt Maude away, as if there were room in the house for just one of them and Eleanor would be the one to stay. Papa had said Eleanor was better now, so she wouldn’t need to go back to the asylum in the evenings. She could sleep in Aunt Maude’s room after Aunt Maude left.
I was thinking abut how different the house would be with Eleanor there when the carriage pulled up and Eleanor walked into the house behind Papa. She was carrying a small suitcase. Eleanor looked scared. She looked as if she had been made to come when she didn’t want to. “Hello, Miss Maude,” Eleanor said. Aunt Maude didn’t say anything.
“Verna, go upstairs and bring down your sister,” Papa said. “Tell her Eleanor is here.”
Carlie and I hugged each other, and then we hurried down the stairs. Carlie looked like she was going to run to Eleanor, but Papa got hold of her. “Carlie, I have explained everything to Eleanor. She agrees with me that you have been very foolish. She will see that you eat some food, and then she will tell you herself that you must stop this behavior.”
Tomato soup and cheese sandwiches were on the table. Carlie sat down and opened her mouth like a little bird waiting for worms. Eleanor sat next to her and began to feed her spoonfuls of soup. Carlie swallowed as fast as Eleanor could get the spoon to her mouth.
Papa looked very solemn. Aunt Maude watched without saying a word. When Carlie reached for a cheese sandwich and began to stuff it into her mouth, Aunt Maude glared at Eleanor. “You have ruined these children,” she said.
Eleanor cringed as if she had been slapped. Papa said, “Maude, you had better keep quiet.”
“I have no intention of keeping quiet. This woman with her odd ideas and sick ways has bewitched these children. She has been an evil influence. You can see for yourself she would let Caroline starve in order to worm her way back into this house. Mrs. Larter and several of the women have spoken about the impropriety of her working here. Even the asylum sent her away.”
“She went home because she was well, Maude. As for the gossiping women, that is beyond contempt.”
Eleanor looked small and frightened, just the way she had looked when she first came to us. She gave a great sigh. “I’m sorry if it was my fault that Carlie’s stopped eating.”
When she saw how miserable Eleanor looked, Carlie wouldn’t let her take the blame. “It wasn’t your fault. I was eating.”
Nothing was turning out as I had planned. I had counted on everything being better if only Eleanor would come back, and now here she was and everyone was still unhappy. With my sneaking food to Carlie and lying to Papa, I had made things worse and not better. I felt the truth coming like a fast train, and I couldn’t stop it. “I gave her food to eat,” I said. “I gave her vegetables and ham and macaroons.”
Aunt Maude grabbed at my words. “That only proves what I have been saying,” she said. “She turned those children into thieves.”
At that Eleanor hid her face in her hands.
Papa looked very sad and said, “I am sorry to say, Maude, that it is you who brought the girls to this. You thought that if they loved Eleanor, they would stop loving their mother.” He turned to Eleanor. “It was very kind of you to come, Eleanor. You have no reason to blame yourself. We would appreciate it if you could stay on for a while until things straighten out.”
Eleanor nodded her head that she would do as Papa asked. Aunt Maude made a sort of strangling sound as if she were choking on words. Eleanor looked at Aunt Maude as if Aunt Maude were the shrike ready to swoop down and stick her to a barbed-wire fence.
Papa said he wanted to talk with me. I followed him into his study, my feet dragging, my heart pounding. “Verna, your deceit has been a great disappointment to me. What you did yourself is bad enough, but much more troubling is your encouraging your little sister to join you in your skullduggery.”
Skullduggery! I cringed. I had never heard the word before, but it had an evil sound. “Papa,” I pleaded, “Aunt Maude deceived you too.” I told Papa about the pie made with salt.
“Aunt Maude must answer for her own behavior, Verna, but can’t you see how much she longs to be loved and accepted by you and Carlie? Your aunt Maude is an unhappy woman, made more unhappy by your coldness to her. If she had your love instead of your rudeness, there would have been no need for salty pies. I am afraid that in trying to bring Eleanor back, you not only have been a poor example for your sister but have made things more difficult for Eleanor. You saw how unhappy she was to be thrust into all this unpleasantness.”
I was crying so hard that Papa took pity on me and, ceasing his terrible words, sent me to my room. Every word he had said was true. I lay on my bed, wishing I were dead, while Carlie tried to comfort me. “Eleanor’s here,” she said. “So everything is all right.”
I wouldn’t be comforted, for I had made trouble for Eleanor and lied to Papa. Eleanor had had to stand there and listen to the awful things Aunt Maude said about her, and Papa had told me I had been a disappointment to him. I didn’t see how things could be worse.
NINE
Although Carlie was eating again, she had not forgiven Aunt Maude. She stayed away from Aunt Maude, and Aunt Maude noticed it. I saw her look longingly at Carlie the way a hungry person peers in the window of a grocer’s. I knew I hadn’t been kind to her. Maybe I wouldn’t be a disappointment to Papa anymore if I tried to love her the way she wanted. But I didn’t know how to begin with the loving. When I tri
ed, Aunt Maude always managed to say something that shut my love up inside me again, like the afternoon she showed us a picture of herself and our mother when they were our age. “Caroline looks so much like Isabel when she was young,” she said. “My little sister was always the beauty in the family. I’m afraid I was more like you, Verna.” I shuddered, horrified at the thought that in any way I was like Aunt Maude.
At any rate, Aunt Maude didn’t seem to care what I felt. The one she wanted to love her was Carlie. To win Carlie’s favor, Aunt Maude spent what little money she had on gifts for my sister: a small parasol, a doll whose eyes opened and shut. When Carlie said she wanted a petticoat with ruffles, Aunt Maude spent hours shirring and hemming, only to have Carlie complain that the ruffles scratched her legs. The more Aunt Maude reached for Carlie, the farther away Carlie ran. It was Eleanor my sister wanted to be with, but Eleanor, afraid of Aunt Maude’s anger and jealousy, made it a point to be busy with her tasks.
One afternoon I was playing dolls with Carlie, making a tea party in the backyard from dandelion water and cookies we stole from the pantry, but I was much too old for that kind of thing, and I was bored.
“Let’s find Dr. Thurston,” I suggested. Dr. Thurston walked among his trees after dinner every day. I liked to get him to tell me what country each tree came from, and then I would go home and make up stories about the foreign lands.
“His stories are boring,” Carlie said. “Why can’t we go to Green Lake and get more polliwogs?”
“No, Carlie,” I said. “Papa warned us against going there. Anyhow, Green Lake isn’t any fun without Eleanor.”
I didn’t think it was fair that I had to spend every day taking care of my little sister and doing all the stupid things she wanted to do, so I left Carlie with her dolls and tea parties and escaped to the asylum grounds to hunt out Dr. Thurston. He seemed glad to see me and showed me a twisty willow tree from Japan.
“In Japan people will sometimes keep a tree small by trimming its roots and branches,” he said. “I’ve seen a willow that was three hundred years old and only a foot high.”
When I got home, I began writing a story of a girl who lived in a forest of those little trees. There were tiny animals too, and the girl had to be careful where she stepped. Because she was so big, her shadow made acres and acres of shade, and on hot days all the little animals followed her around to escape the sun. I was writing about how hard it was for her to get enough to eat when all she had were potatoes the size of peas and peas so small you couldn’t see them. I was lost in the story when I heard Aunt Maude call to me.
“It’s time to clean up for supper. Where is Carlie?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. My conscience stung me when I realized I hadn’t thought to look for her.
“You are supposed to be keeping an eye on your little sister, Verna.”
That was true, and I felt guilty. “I’ll find her,” I said. I searched the usual places. She wasn’t in the secret cave she had made under the back steps or in the yard, hidden in the bushes, waiting for rabbits to come and nibble the parsley in the garden. I was going next door to the Schmidts’, where Mrs. Schmidt often gave us a hard candy to suck on and one for our pockets, when Aunt Maude called to me.
She was in the kitchen with Eleanor, frightened looks on both their faces. Aunt Maude pointed to the trash basket. A little pile of canned peaches lay there. “Carlie has emptied out a canning jar,” she said. We all guessed what Carlie was after.
“She’s gone to get polliwogs.” I was the one who said it. Eleanor threw off her apron and started for the door. I was right behind her.
In a voice that sounded as if it were having a hard time getting out, Aunt Maude said, “I’ll get your father.”
All I could think of was the mud that sucked at you like hands pulling you down. You had to walk through the mud to get to where the polliwogs were. Eleanor with her strong, long legs had no trouble, but she had always warned us against wading there.
The two of us ran in the direction of the lake, Eleanor far ahead of me. The path was wooded and curved one way and then another, so you didn’t see the lake until you came right upon it. I ran until I was out of breath, and the pain in my side was like a knife slicing into me. I was mad at Aunt Maude for throwing away the polliwogs, but I was just as mad at myself for leaving Carlie alone. I promised God everything I could think of, if only He would keep my sister safe. I would play dolls with her. I would never answer Aunt Maude back. I would give up desserts. I would give my coat with the fur collar to some poor child.
Eleanor was far ahead of me. I heard Carlie’s cries before I saw the lake. Eleanor was wading into the water. All I could see of Carlie was her head and shoulders. Eleanor plucked her out of the mud and carried her onto the shore, Carlie clutching Eleanor about the neck. When Eleanor tried to put her down, Carlie clung to her and wouldn’t let go. It was only when Papa arrived, running and out of breath, that Carlie allowed herself to be untwined from Eleanor. In a second she was in Papa’s arms. Papa stood there hugging Carlie as if holding her were the only thing that kept the world together.
“I lost the jar in the mud trying to get the polliwogs,” Carlie said, her voice muffled against Papa’s chest. “Aunt Maude will scold me.”
“She won’t scold you, Carlie, but you were very wrong to go to the lake by yourself. You must promise me never to do such a thing again.”
Carlie’s head nodded up and down. Papa turned to Eleanor. “Thank the Lord you got here in time. We are once again indebted to you.”
We made a little parade walking back to our house: Eleanor, me, and Papa carrying Carlie. Word had gotten out that Carlie was missing, and a crowd had gathered around our house: neighbors and gardeners and employees who had been at the asylum when Aunt Maude came for Papa. There was a cheer when we appeared with Carlie. Aunt Maude ran toward us.
“Thank heavens. This is the last straw. Look what has come of that woman dragging those children to the lake.”
Eleanor looked stricken, like Aunt Maude’s words were a slap, as if she believed Aunt Maude that it really was all her fault and she was responsible for every bad thing that ever happened in the whole wide world.
When Papa saw the expression on Eleanor’s face, he put Carlie down. “Maude, Eleanor saved Caroline’s life. We have much to thank her for. Eleanor, would you kindly take the child inside and get her cleaned up? Verna, you can give Eleanor a hand. Maude, I want to have a word with you.”
The people stood together talking for a few minutes, and then, as we went inside, they left. Carlie was pleased with all the attention she had received and submitted happily to the bath Eleanor gave her, but Eleanor had no words at all. She wouldn’t answer Carlie’s questions. She was all closed up, like the morning glories that grew on the porch railing and shut themselves up every night so that they looked wilted and dead.
Even from upstairs we could hear the shrillness of Aunt Maude’s voice, but not what she was saying. It was only later, when Aunt Maude did not appear for supper, that Papa explained. “Girls, your aunt Maude is packing her things. She is going to her home. I am sure we will miss her, but we can’t expect her to continue to sacrifice her liberty to care for us.”
Papa’s solemn tone kept Carlie silent for once. I was quiet too, for fear of saying something that would keep Aunt Maude from leaving. Eleanor’s hands were shaking when she came in from the kitchen with slices of blackberry pie for us. I had thought that Eleanor would be happy at the news of Aunt Maude leaving, but she didn’t look happy. She looked defeated, as if she had been running a long race and had lost.
I pushed my slice of blackberry pie away. Papa stared at me. “What’s the matter, Verna? Carlie is safe. There is nothing to worry about, and you were a great help today.”
“I promised,” I said.
“Promised? Promised who?”
“God. I said I’d give up desserts if God let Carlie be all right.”
Papa put down his f
ork and stared at me. He put his hand over mine. “Verna, that’s not the way God works. You can’t bribe Him.”
I hadn’t actually thought of it as a bribe, but after Papa explained, I felt foolish. How could you bribe someone who had the whole world? I dug into my pie.
“But you were right to ask Him,” Papa said, smiling. “It was the asking that counted, not the bribe.”
I remember exactly what happened next. Carlie finished her pie and got up to look in the mirror over the sideboard to see if her tongue was purple. Papa took out his pocket watch to check the time we had finished supper. He liked to know how long everything took; time is the only thing Papa is selfish about. I was looking out the open dining room window at a chipmunk sitting up chattering to itself. Eleanor came in to clear the table. She was watchful and cautious, as if the plates were dangerous and might fly off the table and attack her.
Aunt Maude made such a bustle as she marched into the room, we all stopped what we were doing and looked at her. “I suppose I may spend the night?” she said. “You won’t turn me out.”
Papa sprang up and flung his napkin onto the table. “Maude, that was uncalled for. I have told you how much I have valued your care of Verna and Carlie. I only thought since your house was available to you, you might be more comfortable there. I’m afraid the children are a little too much for you.”
“Too much for me, but not too much for her.” She glared at Eleanor. “I’m surprised you have not considered what people will say after I leave.”
Eleanor made a noise, a sort of whimper, like a rabbit cornered by a fox. Carlie ran over and grabbed Eleanor’s hand as if we were going to play some game and she had chosen sides.
Papa said, “There will be no occasion for evil gossip, Maude. I have explained to Eleanor that it would be inappropriate for her to stay on here. She understands that.” He turned to Eleanor. “Get your things, Eleanor, and I’ll take you back to the farm right now. I see no reason why you should have to stay here and submit to such unwarranted attacks.”
The Locked Garden Page 7