Meridia had heard enough. Without a sound she crept back to her room and bolted the door shut. As her head pounded against the jamb, she felt as though bullets had rained down on her body.
FOURTEEN
Her heart swelled with fury. Her pride mandated she confront Eva without delay. Recollecting every false smile and gesture, she tore the turquoise necklace and sent the beads flying across the room. To think that she had trusted Eva, served her, admired her, done all she could to please her! In her blind desire to belong, she had ignored all the signs and allowed herself to be reduced to a servant—she, the daughter of Ravenna, without a penny to her name! The more she pondered Eva’s words, the more furious she became. Did Daniel know—and condone—his mother’s behavior? Why did Eva let them marry if she resented her from the start?
By the time Daniel came home, Meridia had assumed something of Gabriel’s detachment. She kissed him as if nothing had happened, asked how his day was with a face as inscrutable as the moon. Smiling, she did not give a hint that suspicions were even then gnawing at her, that as he spoke and she listened, she kept turning it over in her mind if he was capable of saying one thing and whispering another. Had he betrayed her by telling Eva the private moments they shared in the dark? She decided it was possible.
“What’s all this?” Daniel pointed to the beads scattered across the floor.
“A mistake,” Meridia replied, making no move to clean the mess.
At dinner, she put on the great performance of her life. For the first time since she left Monarch Street, she resurrected Ravenna’s lessons from the dust of memories and observed them to the letter. All through the meal her chin was up, her spine stiff, her smile unassailable despite it never reaching her eyes. She scrutinized Eva with the ironclad caution of a strategist, never once betraying her desire to let her hand fly across the table and rip the mask off the perfidious woman’s face. Observing the other members of the family, Meridia bit down the howling terror that every one of them might have conspired against her from the start. Were Permony and Elias aware of Eva’s slander? What thought was flitting through Daniel’s mind as he asked his mother to pass the salt? Malin’s eyes, the only ones she avoided, were alive with taunt; like a spectator at a gruesome match, the girl perked up when Eva criticized Meridia’s lamb as “tasteless.” Without breaking her smile, Meridia tossed back the bait: she served herself a generous chunk of lamb and said, “Mama’s right—it is absolutely bland,” and ate it up with relish.
That night she grappled with Daniel in restive love. His touch by turns assured and alarmed her, and as she hunted for deceit in the depth of his kiss, she heard his blood murmur what could be either a curse or an endearment. At times she felt suspended between bed and ceiling, watching two strangers wrestle for the sake of friction. At other times she felt so rooted to him her skin could anticipate his hand a second before he touched her. One thing she did not allow him to do—the first since she became his wife—was to cover her mouth with his hand. When her moment came, she let out a cry so loud it vibrated all the walls of the house. Eva could do with it as she pleased.
Afterward, wrapped in her husband’s arms with the disquieting sense that he had never been farther from her, Meridia brought up the question: “What happened to Patina’s feet, Daniel?”
A pause in his heartbeat, or so it seemed to the ear patiently pressed to his chest. A hint of annoyance rumbled in his throat.
“Guilt twisted them. I told you. For deceiving Mama all those years.”
“I met Pilar the other day. She painted quite a different picture of your mother.”
A longer pause, followed by a huff that sounded more forced than indignant.
“I wouldn’t listen to what Pilar says. She isn’t a woman to be trusted. Why didn’t you tell me you met her?”
Meridia raised her head. “I’m telling you now. Why isn’t she to be trusted?”
“Because for years she’s been spreading lies about us. Just ask Mama.”
“Ah, your mother. Of course.”
“Pilar lives in the dark part of town. You know no reputable woman lives there unless she’s got no choice. People say she’s a harlot who’ll do anything for money.”
Meridia frowned and weighed this a moment. “You’re keeping something from me,” she said finally. “It wasn’t guilt that twisted Patina’s feet.”
To her surprise, he shifted her head off his chest and answered without delay.
“You’re right. It wasn’t guilt. It was a rock from the sky.”
“A what?”
“A rock. Dropped from the sky and landed right on her feet. Mama said she saw it falling and there was nothing she could do. Why are you asking all these questions?”
Meridia kept her eyes hidden from him as if from a bright light.
“Tell me, out of all the wedding gifts, why did you choose those things for me?”
“What things?”
“The gold jewelry set from my father. The lace and the pearl earrings.”
“Mama picked those out. She thought you’d like them best.”
“What did she do with the rest?”
“Gave them to charities. Didn’t Mama tell you? It’s a tradition in our family that the bride keeps only a few things for herself.”
Slowly, slowly, she slipped her eyes over his face. “What about the money?”
“Papa invested it in the shop. Mama made the suggestion and I agreed it was the best option for us.”
“They took it from you?”
He laughed. “Of course not. I can withdraw it anytime, with interest.”
“Anytime?”
Meridia’s jaw had the tightness of stone. Pushing up on her elbow, she broke away from his arms and trained her eyes on him. “I overheard your mother talking about me to Malin this afternoon. Horrible, appalling things. Has she said anything to you?”
“Mama?” Daniel scratched his naked belly and blinked sleepily. “That’s impossible. She’s got nothing but praise for you.”
“I heard every word myself.”
“Maybe you misunderstood.”
“I’m not stupid, Daniel. What’s there to misunderstand?”
Her tone threw his eyes wide open. “Yesterday you said it was Malin who was saying things about you. Now it’s Mama. Who will it be tomorrow? Papa?”
“I was wrong about Malin. I’m not wrong about your mother.”
“What did Mama say?”
Meridia told him. Halfway through, Daniel began to laugh.
“Come on. Mama was obviously joking. Do you really think she’s out to get you?” His laughter gained force, louder and deeper until it chewed up her words. “But now that you mentioned it, Permony has indeed put on weight since you came here.”
His teasing brought things home to her, and what she saw made her drop her eyes. He was not on her side. Only time would tell if he would be. What if his carefree good humor was merely gloss, surface shine, a boyish negation of the difficult and the objectionable? And what lay beneath it frightened her even more. Bound up with his simple and unquestioning loyalty was something she had not been able to penetrate—the innate and unspoken bond between mother and son. With a shudder Meridia realized that one of these days, either with a kick or a hit to the neck, she would have to jar this resting thing inside him.
“Mama’s wrong, by the way.” Daniel grinned and laid a hand on her breast. “I can keep up all night if you want me to.”
Saying nothing, Meridia peeled off his fingers and turned to the wall. Her mind was made up. No matter what the cost, she would show him his mother’s true face.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, AIDED by mud and shopping baskets, Meridia set off her first act of rebellion. From the house she carried the two baskets without complaint. At the market square she let Eva load them to capacity with meat, vegetables, eggs, and flour without complaint. It was on their way home that she stumbled over a puddle of mud and dropped one basket from her hand.
“How
clumsy of me!” she cried, extracting the vegetables from the mud.
“Careful, dear,” scolded Eva. “Thank God nothing was broken.”
When they reached the next puddle, Meridia stumbled again and dropped the other basket. This time, the flour burst hopelessly from the bag.
“Careful!” yelled Eva. “That’s a week’s supply down the drain!”
“I’m sorry, Mama. The baskets seem particularly heavy today.”
Eva grumbled and moved on. Had she paid attention, she would have noticed the marks of Meridia’s nails on the flour bag.
Less than a block later, Meridia feigned her worst fall yet. Both baskets flew for ten feet in the air before smashing against a tree, breaking the eggs for sure.
“What’s gotten into you?” cried Eva angrily. “Do you think money drops from the sky? I’ll carry them myself from now on!”
Meekly Meridia assented. Collecting the baskets from the ground, Eva suspected foul play, but could not find proof on her daughter-in-law’s face.
Back at the house, Meridia continued her rebellion. Having learned from Gabilan that Eva had again refused to refill Patina’s medication, she racked her brain to help the old woman. Her opportunity came after lunch, when two friends of Eva’s stopped by for a visit. Minutes into their talk, Meridia burst into the room with her best distressed face.
“Patina’s in pain, Mama, and there isn’t a single tablet left! The pharmacist said he hasn’t been paid and refused to refill. ‘But this is a mistake,’ I told him. ‘Mama’s never late on such things.’ Oh, what should I do? Patina’s in awful pain!”
Eva, glaring, responded as she had predicted. “Why, you silly goose, pay him, of course! Get my purse over there and take what you need.” Then indignantly to her friends: “That harebrained pharmacist must have me confused with another customer. I have never paid a day late in my life!”
Hiding her smile, Meridia rushed out of the room with the money. In this way, she not only secured a two months’ supply of medicine for Patina, but also discovered that Eva would do anything to save face.
With nothing to lose, Meridia grew more daring in the next five days. Increasingly, she defended Permony against Eva, fabricating excuses, drawing Elias into the fray, and, when nothing else was to be done, snatching the girl outright from her mother’s talons. More and more she disregarded Eva’s instructions, and always had a dozen replies ready to back her up. When told to put more salt in the soup, she sprinkled pepper instead and proved the flavor enhanced. When ordered to prepare a dish for six, she made it for eight, to make sure there would be leftovers for Patina and Gabilan. She was clever enough not to engage Eva in an out-and-out war, but outfoxed her gently and skillfully. Foremost on her mind was the dowry money. One way or another, she would have to force Eva’s hand and recover what was left.
At around this time, the dying stench of the roses began to afflict her while she slept. Her nose clogged, her throat rasped, eyes watered, face swelled, lungs pounded with coughs. Even odder, this malady seemed to infect only her and never lasted beyond dawn. On the second night of torment, bathed in cold sweat and coughing her lungs out, Meridia nudged Daniel awake and asked if he was troubled by the stench. “What stench?” he growled from the far edge of sleep. “Smells just like Mama. It’s your hacking that bothers me.”
On the sixth day of her rebellion, Meridia found herself alone in the kitchen with Patina. It was early on Sunday. Except for Gabilan, who was mopping the living room floor, the rest of the house had not stirred from their beds. Hunched over the stove, Patina was stirring a pot of red bean soup when she surprised Meridia by speaking.
“Please stop. Upsetting Madam isn’t going to get you what you want.”
Putting aside the ginger she was peeling, Meridia proceeded with caution. “I’m defending myself, Patina. I heard what she said about me, and from Pilar, what she did to you. You know she won’t stop until she wears out every inch of me.”
Patina turned. For the first time, her childlike eyes clouded with displeasure.
“Pilar spoke to you? She promised me she wouldn’t.”
“I’m grateful she did. Everyone else has kept a secret and played me like a fool.”
The cloud in Patina’s eyes grew heavy. “My sister is a good woman. A loving, generous woman. But she has very confused ideas about Madam.”
“She didn’t sound confused to me,” said Meridia. “On the contrary, it’s that woman upstairs who’s been deceiving me from the start. Everything Pilar said about her has turned out to be true.”
Patina winced as if the words had physically hurt her. “Don’t say such things. You don’t know her the way I do. She made my milk flow again. No one but she could make my milk flow again.”
Meridia’s eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”
Patina bowed her head. “My milk dried when my baby died,” she said softly. “When I thought I’d never nurse another child, she came along and made it flow again. I rocked her and she laughed and she drank my milk and it flowed. Don’t tell me that wasn’t a miracle! How could she be false if she made my milk flow?”
Too astonished for words, Meridia put her hand on Patina’s shoulder. The old woman began sobbing and went on. “It was my fault. I was the one who let her down. My love fell short when she needed it most.”
Patina ran her fingers through her scalp, tearing out a great clump of white hair in the process. Horrified, Meridia took hold of her wrist.
“That’s not true! You loved her more than any mother ever could. It wasn’t your fault she turned out to be cruel and deceitful.”
“My baby…my daughter,” wept Patina. “Please. My child, my baby.”
Suddenly, Meridia realized her mistake. All this time Patina had not been crying for her buried child, but for Eva. Eva alone was her baby, her blood, the one she had searched and mourned for that morning among the roses. With this came another realization, so shocking and unthinkable that Meridia almost reeled from the impact. Daniel had spoken the truth after all, if only a part of it.
“She maimed your feet.” Meridia managed to keep her voice from shaking. “She maimed you with a piece of the gravestone after she ordered it smashed. The rock from the sky. Is that how she did it? With a stone bearing your own daughter’s name?”
On the stove the red bean soup was boiling. Patina turned to stir it, her thin hands shaking, her eyes never answering Meridia one way or another.
“Hand me that bowl, please,” said the old woman weakly.
“Why did you let her get away with this, Patina?”
“The white bowl. Hand it to me, please.”
“You owned this house. And the shop. She’s got no right to treat you like this.”
“The white bowl. Please.”
Meridia handed her the bowl. Patina, now trembling all over, ladled soup into it, splashed by the tears she was powerless to hold back.
“Take this to her.” Patina placed the bowl on a tray and lifted the tray toward Meridia. “There’s no need to apologize. She’ll understand.”
Meridia was more shocked by Patina’s insistence than by her suggestion. “I won’t do it! I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Please. Take this upstairs.”
“I won’t submit to her, Patina. My mother did not raise me to be a slave!”
Patina’s trembling intensified to such a level that Meridia had to relieve her of the tray. At this point, a warm and carefree laughter erupted from the doorway.
“Did not raise you to be a slave! Ha-ha! What a flair you have for language, Meridia. Did you learn this from your mother? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s one remarkable woman.”
Blood drained from Meridia’s face. Turning slowly, she gripped the tray with all her nerves so they would not betray her. Eva stood in the doorway, calm and apathetic as though she were merely looking in on her way to the market. At the first glimpse of her mocking smile, a hard thing knotted up inside Meridia—the closest she had e
ver felt to hatred. Somehow, gathering the pride and dignity she had inherited from Ravenna, she caught Eva’s stare and flung it back across the room.
“My mother is a remarkable woman.”
Eva’s laugh had the soothing touch of springtime. It was when she spoke that she took on the menace of winter.
“Shall I tell you about your precious mother? You accused me of maiming dear Patina. Have you ever accused your mother of maiming your father? You see, I did my homework before I let my son marry you. A skilled fortune-teller, blessed with access to the right spirits, can tell you the past as well as the future.”
She paused to regard Meridia’s clenched face with imperturbable amusement. The fearsome blade that was her mouth gleamed and sharpened by the second.
“Would you like to hear what the spirits told me? Your mother, they said, lost all interest in your father three days after you were born. Apparently, she became so disillusioned by the thing she ejected out of her womb—you—that the thought of being touched by her own husband repulsed her to the core. One day, when your father demanded pleasure, she chased him from her bed like a flea and threatened to shear off his manhood if he so much as made another move. To retaliate, your father did what any degenerate would—found a perch between another woman’s legs. Your mother discovered this soon enough. One night—dark and stormy it must have been—she lost her mind and attacked him while he slept. If you think this is sordid melodrama, guess what her weapon of choice was. An ax! Ha-ha! She must have read one too many potboilers and fancied herself a jilted, ax-wielding lover. Your father awoke in time to save his life, obviously, but not his shoulder. The blade hacked through his bones and left him with a stoop. Tell me, dear, do you find this as amusing as I do?”
Of Bees and Mist Page 14
