Whispers

by Belva Plain

  Annie burst out. “You wouldn’t answer. Anyway, it’s awful here. It’s so full of secrets in this house. You’re sick—”

  At that Lynn had to interrupt, protesting, “Darling, I’m not sick. Sometimes when a woman is pregnant, her stomach acts funny, that’s all. That’s not being sick. You know. I’ve explained it to you.”

  “But that’s not the kind of sick I mean. And besides, there’s something wrong with Emily too. She’s different. She’s always in her room. She hardly talks to me anymore.”

  Now it was Emily who interrupted. “That’s not so, Annie. I have to study in my room. And anyway, I do talk to you.”

  “You won’t let me come in, and I know why. You’re crying, and you don’t want me to see it. Nobody ever tells me the truth. When you went to the hospital, you said it was something you ate, infectional flu or something.”

  “Intestinal flu,” said Lynn.

  “And that’s all it was,” said Emily.

  “I don’t believe you! Do you want to know what I think? It was something Dad did.”

  “Oh, what a dreadful idea!” Lynn cried.

  Perhaps they ought to have listened to Josie and told the truth to Annie. These days kids knew everything. They knew about abortions and miscarriages, homosexuality, AIDS, everything. But Emily would not have wanted it. And it was Emily’s life, after all.

  “How can you think such a thing?” Lynn cried out again.

  “Because he’s mean, that’s why. You never want anybody to say things about him, but I don’t want him to come home. I don’t. I don’t.”

  And this was what his tumultuous angers had produced. What mattered all his steady, persistent efforts to teach tennis or piano? Lynn wanted to cry again, but knew she must not.

  Like strangers on an unfamiliar street, uncertain which way to turn, the little group stood hesitantly in the hall.

  Bruce broke into the uncertain silence. “Let’s get our coats off at least and sit down.”

  “You must be hungry,” Emily said promptly. “I can fix something in a couple of minutes.”

  “No,” Bruce answered. “We had dinner on the plane. I think we should talk instead.”

  They followed him into the den, where Lynn had kept the fire burning all day. He walked toward it and stood with head down and an intent expression, as if he were seeing something hidden in the fire’s ripple and flare. Then he turned about and, still with the same grave face, began rapidly to speak.

  “We had a few words about all this on the flight home. But then I realized it wasn’t the place for the things I wanted to say. So let’s have an open talk now. What I want to explain to Annie is something she has already found out, that people, every one of us, are a mixture of all the people who came before us. This one’s eyes and hair, that one’s talent for the piano, another one’s sense of humor or short temper or patience or impatience.”

  Except for the jingle of Juliet’s collar as she scratched herself, the room had gone very still. Not used to seeing him so solemn, they were all drawn to Bruce.

  “And when you get people together in a family, in the same house, you come up against these differences every day. In my house Josie thinks I’m messy, and I am. I get sawdust on my clothes and in my pockets. Then I come in and sit down on the sofa and leave sawdust between the pillows. Josie can’t stand that. I think she makes too much of a fuss because I don’t think the sofa is that important, but she does, and she thinks I ought to see that it’s important. So we’re just different, that’s the way we are.”

  He paused with his eyebrows drawn together and looked them over keenly. “And every one of you here does things that the others can’t stand.” He raised his hand as if to halt anyone who was about to speak. “No, I’m not looking for confessions. I just wanted to make my point. Annie, have you any idea what my point is? I mean, why Josie and I don’t pull each other’s hair out over the sawdust? Or one of us doesn’t run away?”

  Annie gave a small smile.

  “Makes you want to laugh, doesn’t it? Tell me. Why do you think we don’t?”

  “I guess,” she said weakly, “because you love each other.”

  “You guessed right, Annie. That’s the whole answer. You say your father’s ‘mean.’ Maybe he seems so, but I’m not here, and I don’t know. But if he does say mean things, the truth is he also says very good things, too, doesn’t he? And does good things for you too?”

  Receiving no answer, Bruce pressed again. “Come now. Doesn’t he?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Ah, Annie, you know so. I’ve been here often enough. I’ve seen you two play piano duets together, and that’s wonderful. I’ve watched him teach you to play tennis, too, and I’ve met you both at the library on Saturday mornings, getting books. Do you think he does all those things because he’s mean?”

  Lynn had seldom heard Bruce speak at such length and with such intensity; he was known for his brevity. When they were together, it was Josie who, earnest and positive, did most of the talking.

  “So maybe, I’m not saying he has, but you say he has a terrible way of scolding. But, Annie, what can you do about it? He isn’t likely to change. People rarely do, Annie. Most of us stay pretty much the way we’re made. So running away won’t help. This is your home, here’s your mother, here’s your sister. You’ll have to make a go of it right here.”

  Emily was looking straight ahead. Her face held sadness; the parted lips were tired. And what were the thoughts that had drawn a line across her forehead? Lynn’s own head was heavy with scattered recollections. Did Bruce really mean what he was saying?

  “It comes back to love, as you just said about Josie and me. You have to remember that people can scold and yell and still love. Your father loves you, Annie. He would do anything for you. Always think of that, even if it’s sometimes hard to do. Try not to let words hurt you, even if they seem unfair and perhaps really are unfair. If it’s his way to speak harshly sometimes, well then, that’s his particular fault, that’s all, and you’ll have to live with it.”

  All this time Bruce had been standing, and now he sat down, wiping his forehead as if he had been making a great effort. Again Lynn saw the gleam of moisture behind his glasses. Today is a day, she thought, that I’d like to forget. This desolate day. And yet, he has managed to put some heart into it.

  “I was wondering,” he said now slowly, his remark directed at Lynn as much as to Annie, “whether it might not be a good thing for Annie to have someone to talk to when she feels troubled? There’s a Dr. Miller, a friend of Josie’s—”

  “It would be a wonderful help to you, Annie,” Lynn said. “I agree with Uncle Bruce.”

  Immediately, Annie objected. “No! I know what you mean. A psychologist. I know all about that, and I’m not going, not, not, not!”

  Lynn waited for Bruce to respond. It seemed quite natural to trust the decision to him.

  He said gently, “You don’t have to decide this minute. Think about it carefully, and when you change your mind let your mother know.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” Annie said.

  This defiance sounded exactly like Robert. Curious thought. If Annie should agree, though, there would be another tussle, strong objections from Robert, almost impossible to override. And yet, Lynn thought fiercely, if need be, I will override them.

  “Okay, okay,” Bruce said. “Nobody’s going to force you to do anything. We’re just glad you’re home. Your family can’t get along without you, Annie, even Aunt Josie and I can’t. We depend on you for those Sunday mornings when you help with the furniture.”

  Bruce had a project, repairing old furniture that had been donated for the needy, a quiet project that brought no acclaim. And Lynn recalled again, as she so often did, her father’s old expression: He is the salt of the earth.

  The fire had died into a pile of white ash, yet its friendly heat seemed to linger. Bruce was standing before it with hands outstretched toward the warmth. And a bizarre thoug
ht flashed into Lynn’s head: What if I were to get up and put my arms around him? Bizarre! Have I lost my mind? The man is Josie’s husband, for God’s sake. And I am Robert’s wife. And it is Robert whom I love.

  She said cheerfully, “You’re hungry, no matter what you say. Stay a minute. I made vegetable soup this afternoon while I was waiting for you.”

  “That sounds good after all,” Bruce admitted. “Airline food leaves you hollow.”

  So they came to a little spread in the kitchen, soup and biscuits, a dish of warm fruit and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. To Lynn’s surprise Annie refused the cookies. Could it be that when sweets were freely offered, Annie found that she didn’t want them as badly as when they were refused? One had to ponder that.

  At the front door she took Bruce’s hand between both of hers.

  “This is the second time you’ve been a lifesaver. Do you realize that?”

  “It’s what friends are for, Lynn.”

  “I am so very rich in friends.” And for no known reason she told him that Tom Lawrence had come that morning too. “I was so surprised.”

  “Why? He thinks the world of you,” Bruce said. “But then, we all do.”

  When he had gone and Annie was upstairs, Lynn asked Emily, “What was Bruce saying while I was in the kitchen?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “You all suddenly stopped talking when I came in. Don’t hide anything from me, Emily.”

  “Okay. He only said that you need us at this time. That it’s not right for you to be under stress, not good for you or for the baby.”

  Lynn frowned. “I hate to seem like an invalid, for heaven’s sake. As if you shouldn’t feel free to express yourselves naturally. I don’t want that.”

  “Is it true about the baby?”

  “I don’t really know. They say it may be.”

  “I’ve never seen him so stern,” Emily said. “He seemed almost angry at us.”

  “Why, what do you mean?”

  “He said we are to keep this house peaceful no matter what anyone—what anyone says or does. Ever. We are to keep things smooth and happy.” Emily reflected. “It’s true, I have never seen him so stern. He actually commanded us. It didn’t seem like Uncle Bruce talking.” She laid her cheek against Lynn’s. She was taller than Lynn, who had not been aware until this instant how much taller. “We—both of us—took him very seriously. Annie won’t do anything wild again. He helped her a lot. Don’t worry, Mom.”

  “If you say so, I won’t.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  But it is all too simply said, Lynn told herself. How many of Bruce’s own words he really believed, she thought again, or what he truly thought, she could not know.

  Nevertheless, when Robert came home, it was as if the two previous days had been wiped out of memory.

  Having been delayed at customs to pay for all the gifts he had bought, he was late in arriving. It took two men, the driver and Robert, to maneuver a tall carton up the walk and set it down in the hall.

  “Why, what on earth have you brought?” Lynn cried.

  “You’ll see.”

  His eyes sparkled; the long trip, the exertions, had only lifted his high spirits. He had hugs and kisses for them all. For an instant, as Annie was pulled to him, Lynn, watching and inwardly imploring, thought she saw refusal in her eyes, but it vanished, and perhaps she had only imagined it. Laughing, he held Lynn’s hands and stepped back at arm’s length to examine her.

  “Oh, my, you’ve grown! Look at your mother, girls. I swear it looks as if she had twins in there, or triplets. If so, we’ll have to build an addition onto this house, or move. But how are you, darling?” And not waiting for an answer, “How is she, girls? Has she been feeling well? Because she’d never tell me if she hadn’t been.”

  “She’s been fine,” Emily assured him.

  “Then you’ve been taking good care of her.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s freezing outside, but nowhere near what it is in Central Europe. Oh, I’ve got a million things to tell you. It’s hard to know where to begin.”

  “How about beginning with dinner?”

  “Ah, dinner! Ah, good to be home.”

  Lynn had prepared a feast of rich, hot food for a winter’s night: mushroom soup, brown slivers floating in the golden broth, duckling with dark cherries, spinach soufflé with herbs and onions, and apple pudding in wine sauce. Champagne stood in a nest of ice, and everyone drank except Annie, who tasted and made a face. Even Lynn, in spite of her pregnancy, took a sip. The table was set with the best china and the Baccarat crystal that Robert had bought. In the center Lynn had arranged a low cluster of white roses. All this excellence did not go unappreciated.

  “Your mother!” Robert exclaimed. “Your mother. Just look at all this.” He was exultant.

  “What a fantastic experience! Of course, it was hard work, late hours, talking and translating, meeting all sorts of people, some cooperative and eager, some stubborn—but that’s life, isn’t it? All in all, though, I should say it was a great success. Budapest, as you walk through the old quarter, is somewhat dark and dingy to our eyes, but wonderfully quaint, all the same. And then suddenly you come up against a modern glass tower. The company’s office is as modern as anything we have in New York. You walk away, and there’s a Chinese restaurant, next a pizza place, and there you see what’s ahead, you see the future.”

  Robert paused to cut off a piece of duckling, swallowed it, and could barely wait to continue his tale.

  “Hungary is a full democracy now. Knowing some history of its past, you can only feel the marvel of what’s happening. Eventually, they’ll be in NATO, or in some sort of association with it. No doubt of that. What the country needs now, what all these countries need, is management training, and that’s where the West, where we, come in. Oh, say, I almost forgot. I brought a real Hungarian strudel. I bought it yesterday morning. It’s in my carry-on. Well, we can eat it tomorrow. It’d be too much with this dessert too. You should see the little coffeehouses, Lynn. All the pastries! You would get recipes galore. I sat in one of them and looked out onto a square with palaces and a huge Gothic church. Marvelous. You’re going to love it, girls.”

  “What about college?” Emily asked anxiously.

  “Don’t worry, just you get into Yale. Nothing’s going to interfere with that.” Robert smiled. “You’ll just fly over whenever there’s a vacation. I’ll be earning enough to afford it, don’t worry.”

  “And what about me?” inquired Annie.

  “Don’t you worry. We’ll have a fine school for you, with diplomats’ children and all sorts of interesting people and—”

  He had brought home his full vigor and his old magic. It was contagious. And in her daughters’ faces, Lynn saw that they were feeling the contagion too.

  “And of course we won’t be limited to Hungary. It’s so quick and easy to get around Europe, and you’ll have a chance to see it all. You’ll see Greece and the Parthenon, and you’ll know why I wanted you to study the Greek gods, Annie. Rome, Paris, of course, and”—he made a wide sweep of his hand—“the world! Why not?”

  After dinner they opened the packages. Standing in the center of a circle of chairs, Robert unwrapped and displayed his finds. He had bought with care. For Annie there was a cuckoo clock. “I remember you said once that you wanted one, and this one’s a beauty.” For Emily there was a watercolor of a castle on a hill. For Lynn there were Herend figurines, all in green and white and large size: a kangaroo, an elephant, and a unicorn.

  “I thought awhile about whether I should get them in the red or the green. What do you think, did I do right, Lynn?” he asked.

  And without waiting for her reply he set them on the mantelpiece, then stepped back, regarding them with a slight frown. “No, not that way.” He moved them. “They should be clustered at the side. Symmetry is boring.”

  Lynn remarked, “I don’t know where you got the time for shopping
.”

  “I don’t know myself. When you want to do something, you make the time. That’s about it.”

  The evening went on long past Annie’s bedtime and usurped Emily’s homework hours.

  “… and we should have at least a few days’ skiing in Chamonix. From what I’ve read the French Alps have a special charm. Oh, I’ll manage to get days off.” Robert laughed. “The boss of the office can always wangle a few days, especially when he’s overworked all the rest of the time. Say, look at the clock. All of a sudden jet lag has got to me. Shall we go up?”

  In their bedroom as he undressed, Robert said, “Things are looking so good, Lynn, so good. You know what they say about getting sand in your shoes, so you’ll want to return? Well, there may not be any sand over there, but I can’t wait to go back.”

  As he emptied the suitcase and sorted the contents, he moved fast and spoke fast, leaping from one subject to the next.

  “I faxed a report to Monacco and got a very pleased reply.… I noticed something different about Emily tonight. That sort of remote look she’s been having is quite gone. She seemed warmer toward me. Yes, as I predicted, she’s gotten over that fellow. Thank God.… And Annie, too, was really sweet, I thought.…”

  He hung his ties up on the rack and, turning, suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, but I missed you all so much, hectic as it was. Did you miss me as much, Lynn?”

  She was telling herself: He’s bound to find out, so I might as well get it over with now. So as briefly as possible she began to relate the story of Annie, making sure not to disclose any of Annie’s remarks about him.

  Robert was startled, vexed, and dismayed, all together.

  “Good God,” he said, “the minute my back is turned some disaster befalls my children.”

  Lynn’s heart sank.

  “I didn’t want to spoil your homecoming, and I hope this hasn’t, because, as you see, we’re all right now.” And she improvised, for to tell the tragic story with complete accuracy would only provoke an argument. “It seems she had been worried about me. Well, I suppose it’s only natural for her to have mixed feelings about this pregnancy. And then she was upset about Emily last summer. She thought Emily was terribly sick and we were hiding the truth. It all seems to have been preying on her mind, and so she just—”