by Belva Plain
Her mood was depressed, or was it oppressed? How swiftly the spirit travels from one mood to the next! That house and those gardens this afternoon! And she had thought Cecile was the daughter of a farmer!
A “gentleman’s farm,” Norma said. “You might say it’s a hobby. They’re what you call ‘old money,’ not like us,” she had explained with a smile. “Not like us. They’re also the most generous people in the whole community, personally kind and helpful in every way. They’re known for it.”
I can imagine them, Amanda thought now, sitting there every afternoon, having their tea and cakes while they look out at the roses and the hills. On a cold or rainy day, then they will be indoors with a fire crackling under the mantel. Who would have thought that Cecile, with her simple ways, lived like that?
Everywhere I turned, it was so beautiful… the dogs running on the lawn… the monogrammed silver teapot… the cake plate, shaped like a shell… Cecile’s mother, so calm and pleasant, pouring the tea.… Mannerly, it was all mannerly.
She was still at the window when somebody knocked on the door. A thought ran through her head as she went to open it: At home, nobody knocks on a door.
Norma was carrying a large, flat box. “Our dresses arrived! Just leave them in the box and peek under the tissue paper for now. Tomorrow we’ll take them to the alteration people in case they should need anything. But look!”
Lustrous lemon-colored silk lay in long, flat folds. Cool and sleek to the touch, it soothed Amanda’s fingertips.
She murmured, “We’re to carry white rosebuds, I think?”
“Yes, won’t it be lovely? This is my first time as a bridesmaid,” Norma said.
“Mine, too.”
“One of my cousins asked me once, but the dresses were practically miniskirts, and I couldn’t see myself wearing one, so I declined. I’m sure she was relieved that I did.”
“Long dresses always look better, anyway,” Amanda said.
And feeling a sudden wave of pity for her friend, she put her arms around Norma, while for the second time that day, Norma cried out with a poignant gladness in her voice.
“Oh, I am so happy that my brother found you!”
CHAPTER THREE
Happy the bride the sun shines on, thought Norma. Usually at weddings, there is at least one person, often a nice old lady, who quotes the saying. And indeed today three people had already done so.
The sun, moving west, was behind them all, so that lightly, without glare, it touched the scene, the old yews that bordered the lawn, the ivy on the garden walls, the guests in the semicircle of chairs, and on every side, everywhere, the flowers. The breeze touched lightly, too, enough to freshen the air without ruffling Cecile’s lace veil. In the stillness, the grave, poetic words of the ancient service rang like music.
Touched by fairy dust, thought Amanda in her enchantment, and in her hands the white rosebuds trembled.
Rapt, thought Norma, watching her. She is rapt. Why not? She thought for a word to describe this rite: The pinnacle? The peak? And all the awe and beauty was to culminate in the ultimate act of love, in the bed. No matter that for these two, Peter and Cecile, it would be far from the first time; this night would still be different, a culmination. In the eye of her mind, she saw them, stripped of their clothing and their solemnity.
Then almost immediately, as she stood there in the heart of the ceremony, she was ashamed of herself, and chided: Smile. All the ushers and bridesmaids are smiling. See how Amanda smiles?
Amanda was absorbing it all before in so few minutes it should pass away. Without fail, she must see and remember everything. How Cecile gleamed! Her dark eyes, her very white skin, her pearls—all were gleaming. Delicately shaped, in spite of lacrosse, she was perfection in a froth of organdy. She had class. That was the word: class. Perhaps it was her elegant repose? Or perhaps only the simple fact that she had grown up in a place like this one?
Peter was putting the ring on Cecile’s finger, looking into her eyes as he spoke: “With this ring, I thee wed.” He was an attractive man, with thick hair, a distinctive, mellow voice, and classic features, a male version of Cecile, strong yet sensitive. Quite sensitive, she decided. There was no mistaking his thoughtful eyes or his quietness. He was, after all, an architect, an artist. A man like him must be very, very interesting …
The mothers in the front row of chairs were wiping their eyes. Harriet Newman was really a handsome woman. All these people were dignified and handsome in their way. Everything was correct and orderly. At the proper instant, the musicians, hidden behind the shrubbery, broke into Mendelssohn’s triumphant march, and everyone rose to let the wedding party pass down the flowery aisle. Yes, orderly and correct, orchestrated to perfection right down to the receiving line under the shade of the giant sycamores.
Cecile had turned pink with excitement. “Peter, Amanda, you two know each other well enough, goodness knows, but Larry, you’ll get to know Peter better now—you’ve hardly met—”
“Twice,” Peter said. “When Norma was visiting here one day, you gave me a lift. It was my senior year at college, and I was very impressed by you as a man of business, already out in the world.”
Larry laughed. “I remember we were kidding about the girls, Norma, Cecile, and Amanda, even though I hadn’t met Amanda yet. We named them the three musketeers, female style.”
“Yes, and we’re going to stay three musketeers now that I’m going to be here—”
Larry interrupted. “Say it. Now that you’re going to be married.”
“Isn’t it marvelous,” Cecile exclaimed, “the way everything’s worked out? I haven’t had a minute to congratulate you two properly.”
“People are waiting,” Peter reminded her.
“Yes, yes,” Larry said at once, pulling Amanda by the hand. “Come on, honey. You can talk later.”
“We three will meet once a month,” Cecile called over her shoulder, “no matter what else we’re doing. Business meeting once a month. Don’t forget.”
Walking away with Larry’s hand holding and guiding her, Amanda was aware of a sudden, entirely new sensation: She belonged here. These were her kind of people. Warmth filled her chest. She wasn’t temporary, anymore. She had a place.
“Nice, isn’t it?” said Larry.
Nice? What a dull little word. It’s thrilling, and I’m on cloud nine.
“The whole affair, so nice. You looked lovely standing up there, honey.”
“You should have been looking at the bride, not at me,” Amanda said gaily. It was a flirtatious, arch response, and she was aware of it. She didn’t like to hear herself making it, yet she often made such responses when she talked to Larry, without knowing why.
“Cecile was lovely, but you were more so. Take my word,” he said solemnly.
“You disappeared,” Norma cried, rushing up to them. “I’ve been looking for you, Amanda. They want us right away for the photographs.”
Now came another row to stand in, the ushers on Peter’s side and the bridesmaids on Cecile’s. While people watched, Amanda watched back. Groups were moving about on the grass, their voices blending in a sustained, high-octave murmur. If I close my eyes, she thought, it will sound like the ripple of moving water.
Far off on a side lawn stood an enormous green tent where they would have supper and dance. It would be buffet, family style, with no assigned tables, Larry had explained.
“You’ll sit wherever you like, which is fine with me. The nice thing is, the Newmans like to keep things simple. Homelike. Look, they’ve even let the dogs out.” And as if in answer to Amanda’s unspoken question, he went on, “I was at their dance here for Cecile’s eighteenth birthday. The girls had to bring their own escorts, and Norma brought me.”
Poor thing, she had had to bring her brother.
“She’ll sit with us,” Amanda said. Two positions had abruptly reversed themselves. Norma, who in a subtle way had been the dominant one, the authority in charge of Amanda, was now, al
so in a subtle way, to be her charge. When, inside the tent, the music began, it went straight to her head. She was stirred. Her heart began to race.
“Oh, how I love to dance,” she cried.
“Do you? So do I. Hey, girl, put down your bouquet and let’s go. Let’s go!”
Larry had the same feel of the music’s beat, the body’s swing, and the foot’s rap-tap on the floor.
“Hey, don’t we go well together? Isn’t this great, Amanda?”
He had a loud laugh, a boy’s guffaw, an explosion of joy. He is a boy, she thought. An innocent boy in the powerful, tall body of a man.
“Isn’t it great that they’re bringing back the old dances? A man can hold a girl close again.” He tightened his right arm around her waist. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
There was something about him, too, that touched her heart. He was sweet. A sweet man. And she smiled up at him, shaping her mouth as if about to kiss him.
“I love you, Amanda,” he whispered.
The motion, the music, the man’s arms—all were making her dizzy with the delicious, bubbling dizziness of the champagne she had drunk only one other time in her life. One time. When had it been? Yes, on Amanda’s birthday in the dormitory room. Cecile had bought the bottle.
They went whirling now, whirling around the room. Some people were even noticing them. The guests at one table even applauded.
“Hey, look at those two fly!”
Yes, it was like flying, swooping through the air. Her skirt was billowing, and one of the musicians winked at her as they went past. She heard herself give a little whoop of delight.
“I love you, Amanda,” Larry whispered again.
I’m happy, she thought. Of course I am. I have every reason to be so, so happy.
Norma had saved their seats. She had also taken their plates to the buffet table and filled them with the most delectable things there, including plenty of Larry’s favorite lobster salad.
“As if she were my mother,” Larry whispered aside to Amanda. “She’s going to mother you, too. You’ll see.”
It did not disturb Norma in the least that she had overheard him. Their relationship was long-standing; although perhaps he had never thought to analyze it, she had. And it pleased her now to see that, as always, he was drawn at once into the play of talk that zigzagged around the table.
“You’re Larry Balsan? Of course I know who you are. I’m Jason Bates, with Century Mortgages, hear your name ten times a week, for Pete’s sake, glad to see you in person.”
“And this is Amanda? I’ve already been hearing about you, Amanda.”
“And this is your sister Norma. Glad to meet you.”
No one had actually intended to exclude her from the buzz of conversation, Norma knew that. It was simply that they had not given her any thought. She was used to it. Unless the conversation was academic, or at least very serious, she was always left out. The other young women at the table, mostly older cousins of Cecile’s, were either recently finished with graduate school, or else they were married. And they, naturally, would talk about weddings, furnishings and, possibly, babies. Their soprano voices, intermingled with their escorts’ or husbands’ bass ones, had been making a buzz in Norma’s ears and now continued to do so.
“Did you know Peter before today? I’ve never met him before. They say he’s darling, very bright. My husband met a man who was in his class in New York.”
“Isn’t this an absolutely unforgettable day? They’re such a perfect pair.”
“Peter? He’s from some little town up north, practically in Canada.”
“What about his family?”
“Nothing unusual. No money. He’s had to work his way.”
“They say it was like electricity, the first time they saw each other.”
“Have you ever seen such flowers? Her father raises them, I hear.”
“Not these. Orchids like these have to come from Hawaii.”
Amanda was enjoying all this and holding her own. You could tell by her body language that she wasn’t missing a thing. Wherever it might be necessary to fit in, Amanda fit. Occasionally, she would glance at her ring finger, possibly to be sure the ring was still there, or possibly just to enjoy the ownership of it. Observing her, Norma was both amused and touched.
I suppose, if I were to make an effort and if I had to do it, she thought, I could make myself fit into all this. But where people all come in twos, as they do here right now, I can’t.
She looked at her watch. It was later than she had thought, thank goodness, so it would probably soon be time to go home. She was thinking this when Cecile’s father, accompanied by a second man, rose to make his rounds as a host. Amos was especially jovial today, possibly as the result of champagne, and the man who accompanied him was obviously even more so.
“No, no, sit down, all you people, please,” he said as the young men rose to their feet. “You I know, Larry, but it’s your sister Norma who should meet my friend Alfred Cole.”
“Yes, yes, I want to meet Norma. They tell me she’s going to teach Latin at Country Day, and my son Lester is going to be the assistant to the headmaster come September. Ah, Norma, Latin teachers didn’t come so young and ravishingly beautiful when I was in school,” he added, extending his hand to Amanda.
Larry said hastily, “This is Amanda, my fiancée. The pretty lady on my other side is my sister.”
It seemed to Norma that everyone was flushing. She had an impression of red faces all around her, the reddest being that of Alfred Cole.
“Ah, well, please excuse me,” he apologized, addressing nobody in particular. “So many pretty faces … It confuses a man. Anyway, I hope you and Lester will enjoy … I mean, I shall tell him to look for the lovely young Latin teacher … He’s a very special young man, I guarantee. Excuse me for boasting, but he’s my only son and he—”
“Come along, Alfred,” said Mr. Newman, taking him firmly by the arm and leading him away.
Norma looked again at her watch. You could be embarrassed, sad, or angry. Angry at whom? The man hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, had he? Much ado about nothing, of course … to everyone except Norma. And she said quietly, “Cecile and Peter are leaving soon, flying to New York. And where to afterward is their secret. So it’s almost over, and I don’t need to see them off. I think I’ll go home.”
“Don’t you want to see the rice or the confetti?” Amanda asked gently.
“Not really.”
Larry urged, “Have one dance with me before you go.”
“Thanks. But I’d really rather leave before the rush.”
Laugh it off.
“Those damned legs of hers! I wish the doctors could do something about them and about her,” Larry grumbled at the end of the day. “Those legs have changed her life. She tries. Does beautifully most of the time, but the bottom line is, they’ve changed her feelings about herself. So they’ve changed her life.”
Amanda sighed. “That stupid man.”
“He was a little woozy, that’s all. It was just a dumb mistake. Another woman wouldn’t have cared that much. He’s really a nice guy, Alfred Cole. A smart lawyer. Corporate work, with naturally some real estate thrown into a deal now and then. I guess he got invited because his wife was Mrs. Newman’s best friend. Since she died, he told me, Mrs. Newman has sometimes included him in family events. Sort of an obligation, I suppose. Have you fastened your seat belt? I won’t start the car until you do.”
Larry was upset. Amanda had already learned that it was better to ask no questions until he had talked himself out. They had gone down the long drive and were on the road before he spoke again.
“You’re so great with people, you’ve got such a great personality, honey. Maybe after you get set here and have a lot of friends, you’ll be able to do something for Norma. I hate to think of her stuck in that school with a lot of middle-aged faculty grinds for the rest of her days.”
“She’ll make a good life for herself, Larry. She�
��ll be fine. At college, everyone liked her. They respected her brains, and she’s fun, good company.”
“Who’s ‘everyone’? Only the women. She’s told me. She wants a man. It’s natural, isn’t it?”
He’s such a good person, Amanda thought. He’s all heart. A man who worries about his sister this way will be good to his wife.
“I’ll do what I can,” she said, meaning it.
“I know you will. Move over, honey. Move closer.” For a moment his big hand clamped down over hers. “God, you’re lovely. What are you thinking?”
“Just that I feel good. It’s been so marvelous today, and now I’m looking at all this wonderful scenery.”
On either side the greenery overflowed; the trees were in full, heavy leaf, and the grass was thick and tender. Everything was prosperously cared for.
“Look at those horses, Amanda. Pretty sight, aren’t they? This is real horse country. Want to take a ride or go home?” Without waiting for an answer, he made a quick turn. “Here, I’ll show you something while we’re out this far: Cagney Falls. Prettiest little town you’ll ever see. You’d never believe it’s only thirty miles from our house. Our temporary house, I mean. You and I need to do some talking soon about a place for ourselves. But not this minute.”
They came abruptly into Cagney Falls. One minute they were passing gates and driveways like the Newmans’, and in the next, after descending a hill by a road that became a street, they entered a genteel town square. Its sides were lined with shops whose window boxes and striped awnings made the whole resemble an elaborate toy, while in a corner of the far side stood a small white clapboard church straight out of a New England landscape. In the center of all there was a flowery little park with a few benches under some old shade trees.
