The Lavender Hour

by Anne Leclaire

  “Really?” I said, recalling the many fights we'd had in the past, the times Lily refused to let me leave the house unless I'd been “properly attired.”

  And later, at Julep's, Lily didn't say a word when the boys sat through lunch wearing their new baseball caps. It was as if she didn't care anymore about things like manners. I chose a seat between my nephews and listened to their repertoire of knock-knock jokes, rescued from having to make conversation with the Yawn. Lily didn't seem to notice. I kept sneaking glances at her, trying to understand what had caused her to change and why it was so deeply unsettling. Wondering, too, what this man saw in her, a woman who looked every year of her age and a good deal more than his. I remembered when George H. W had been president how everyone thought Barbara looked like his mother. When the gossip hit about his having had an affair, Lily had said, Well, I'm not surprised. Why would the president want to be with a woman who looks so much older? She should color her hair. Had she forgotten that?

  Occasionally, during lunch, the Yawn faked an interest in my life and tossed a question down the table, but I pretended to be too engrossed in my nephews to hear. Ashley kicked me under the table. “Be nice,” she whispered once. Lily just kept smiling and saying how wonderful it was to all be together, oblivious to any tension.

  When the lunch was finally over, Lily and Jan went home to rest up for the party while Ashley and I returned to her house to ransack her closet for something for me to wear. Ashley finally decided on a black sheath with a cowl neck that draped open in the back, nearly exposing my entire spine.

  “Smashing,” Ashley declared, pleased with herself.

  “No one will be looking at me, anyway,” I said. “It's Mama's party.”

  “You never can tell,” Ashley said, with a smug look that, if I hadn't been so preoccupied, would have tipped me off.

  WHEN ASHLEY dropped me off at the house, Lily was already dressed. She wore a sleeveless linen dress in teal, and even from halfway across the room, I could see the loose skin on her upper arms and throat. It was as if she was deliberately trying to look her age. The Yawn wore a pair of white slacks; a pale blue shirt, open at the neck; and a blue blazer. All he needed was a commodore's cap.

  “Jan and I are going to get to the club a little early,” Lily said, “so we'll be there to greet the first guests, but there's no need for you to be there early unless you want to. Ashley and Daniel can pick you up.”

  “I have to shower and change,” I said, “so I'd better ride with them.”

  “See you there, then,” Lily said, and hugged me again, as if she couldn't get enough.

  After they left, I roamed through the house in a time warp, so little had changed, and I found some comfort in this. Even my bedroom had remained as I'd left it, right down to the ivory trim, blue-flowered wallpaper, and matching blue spread on the bed. I wondered if the house-sitting professor had a daughter, if she would be sleeping in this room. I took a shower and slipped on the black sheath. I pulled my hair back in a knot. I hadn't thought to bring earrings and crossed the hall to Lily's room. I raided her jewelry box, choosing a dangly sapphire-colored, cut-glass pair. On the other side of the dresser top, there was a man's tie clip and a short black comb. The photo of my daddy that had been there as long as I could remember had disappeared. I was both mad and sad to see it gone, exactly the way I'd felt earlier when I thought about anyone else living in this house.

  I was ready by seven, and when the phone rang, I was watching for Ashley's headlights to sweep up the drive.

  “Hey, Jess, I'm running late. The babysitter's sick, and we haven't been able to find another. Daniel's going to stay with the boys. I'll pick you up in ten minutes.”

  “No problem,” I said. I checked the clock, wondered what Luke was doing. All that day while I was teasing my nephews and picking out a dress with Ashley and having lunch and talking with Lily, he had never been far from my thoughts. My mind flashed on the plastic bag in the bottom drawer of the desk. I wished I had thought to hide it before I left.

  I picked up the phone, dialed his number. “Nona?” I said when she answered.

  “Yes.”

  “It's Jess.”

  “Jessie? But Luke told me you were going away this weekend.”

  “I am. I'm calling from Virginia.”

  “Long distance? You're calling long distance?”

  “I just wanted to see how Luke is doing.”

  “About the same. He's sleeping right now.”

  “Well, tell him I called, will you?”

  “He'll be happy to hear that.” She lowered her voice. “He doesn't say anything—'course he won't say anything to me—but I think he misses you. We both do. You're good for him, Jessie.”

  Her words made me happier than I had any right to be. What the hell was I doing in Virginia? “I'm due back tomorrow night. If I get on the Cape early enough, I'll come by.”

  I HADN'T been to the VCC since one of Ashley's baby showers. The Virginia Country Club was the site of every important occasion in our family's history: our parents' wedding reception; my mama's baby showers; Ashley's sweet sixteen bash, complete with DJ; Ashley's wedding reception; the gathering after our daddy's funeral. Inside, the party was already under way. Every friend Lily had in Richmond was there, people I'd known since childhood and some others who were unfamiliar. I was no more in the door than Polly Collins—one of Lily's oldest friends—dashed over to say hello, still wearing her blond hair in a stiff bouffant the shape and size of a football helmet. Another time warp. Ashley headed off to say hello to some friends. I made straight for the bar and ordered a gin and tonic—my daddy's drink. Lily hadn't noticed our arrival, and I watched from a distance as she made her way from table to table, the Yawn in tow, laughing and greeting friends. Off to one side of the room, a large easel had been set up with a display of photographs of his boat, a fifty-seven-foot sloop with “Odyssey” painted in black on the stern. Propped on a second easel was a map someone had drawn of the Atlantic, a cutout of the Odyssey stuck in the middle atop a yellow line depicting their voyage. There was an arrow indicating the starting point in Norfolk and another showing the journey's end in the Azores, off the African coast. Colored drawings of mythic sea creatures decorated the borders. I could have done without the monsters.

  I was just turning away when Ashley appeared at my side, her arm looped inside that of a man. “Well, look who I found,” she said in a phony what-a-surprise tone of voice.

  “Hi, Jess,” he said, freeing his arm from Ashley's and reaching for my hand.

  “Bill,” I said. I flashed my sister a wait-until-later look. Now I understood why she had insisted on the backless dress.

  “I'll just leave you two to get reacquainted,” she said, then winked at me and melted into the crowd.

  “God, you look better than ever. I was a fool to let you get away.”

  As if it was your choice, I thought. “You're looking good, too,” I said, fulfilling my half of the social contract. Actually, he didn't look so bad. He was thick through the chest, heavier than in high school, but not yet fat. It would be another ten years before he had the bloated look of an ex-athlete. He smelled of English Leather, the same aftershave he had used in high school. He was tan—recently back from Saint Bart's, he explained. I stared at him and remembered the sexual intensity we had once shared, chemistry that had made him the object of my total obsession throughout our senior year.

  “Ashley tells me you're just here for the weekend,” he said.

  I nodded. “For the party.”

  “That is some trip they have planned.” We both looked at the map.

  “So everyone seems to think. Personally, I think it's insane.”

  He was momentarily caught off balance by my response, but he regained his footing within seconds. “Ashley tells me you're an artist.”

  Ashley talks too much, I thought. “I make jewelry,” I said, wondering how soon I could get another drink. If I didn't pace myself, I'd be drunk befor
e dinner.

  “Well—” Bill started.

  “William. William Miller. I thought that was you.”A woman with chestnut brown hair swooped in and claimed him with a smile.

  “Doe?” he said.

  I recognized her then. Dorothy Jarvis had been in Ashley's class and had gone on to Sweet Briar or maybe it was Hollins; Lily used to cochair bake sales with her mama.

  “I heard you were back in town,” Doe said to Bill. “You must come sit and tell us what you've been doing and what brings you back to us.”

  I remembered what Ashley had said. Fresh meat. “Go,” I said. I knew enough not to say everything I was thinking.

  He shrugged apologetically. “I'll catch up with you later.”

  Around the room, people were gathered in clusters, and I felt like an alien in their midst. I could imagine what Faye's take on this event would be. Some of the women still wore girdles. Foundation garments, Lily used to call them. I took refuge in the ladies' room. Ashley found me there.

  “So?”

  “What?”

  “Don't be clueless, Jess. Bill. What do you think? Isn't he hunky?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know.”

  “What's not to know? The man's gorgeous and loaded. And I sensed the chemistry between you two.”

  “I don't think so.”

  “You're kidding.”

  I shook my head. “He's wearing English Leather.”

  Ashley looked at me as if I were daft. “And that's a crime?”

  “That's what he wore in high school,” I said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I could never take anyone seriously who still wears the same shaving lotion he wore when he was sixteen.”

  Ashley stared at me. “Jesus be, Jessie, when are you going to grow up?”

  “I thought I saw you two disappear in here.” Lily stood at the door. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from alcohol or excitement, I could not tell.

  “See you later,”Ashley said in a pissed-off voice, and slipped out.

  “What did I interrupt?” Lily asked.

  “Oh, Ashley's mad because she got Bill Miller here and I didn't fall at his feet and end up in bed with him, the rest of my life sorted out. I mean, isn't that what you want, too?” I wasn't convinced Lily hadn't had a hand in Bill's invitation to the party.

  “Oh, honey, I only want what you want. Whatever makes you happy.”

  The standard parental lie, I thought.

  Lily hugged me. “I'm so glad you came, Jessie. It means the world to me.”

  “Me, too.”

  Lily noticed the earrings. “You borrowed them,” she said. I could smell gin and saw then that she was a tiny bit drunk.

  “Do you mind? I forgot to pack any.”

  “No. I'm glad you did. They look lovely on you. You should keep them.”

  “It's a nice party,” I said.

  “Did you see the drawing Sally Kincaid made? The map of our trip?”

  “Yes.”

  Lily smiled at me, and, in spite of the gray hair, her face looked suddenly young. “I always wanted to travel, you know,” she said. “It's always been a dream of mine. I mean in the real sense. I actually used to fall asleep and dream of visiting Portugal and Greece.”

  Stubbornly, I kept silent.

  Lily sighed and then inspected herself in the mirror over the bay of sinks, checked her teeth for lipstick. “You haven't told me what you think of Jan,” she said.

  “He seems…”

  She turned. “What?”

  “I don't know. Kind of young. Aren't you afraid of what people are saying?” I stared at the crepelike skin of Lily's throat, her arms. “I mean he looks young enough to be your son or something. Aren't you a little ashamed?”

  Lily's hand had been stroking her jaw, and now it dropped to her side. She gave me a steady look. “No,” she said. She raised her hand, and I drew back as if she meant to strike me, but Lily only cupped my face, her touch gentle, her eyes unutterably sad. “I don't give a goddamn what people think or say, and I am most assuredly not ashamed. Furthermore, I won't let you taint this wonderful thing that has happened to me.” Her hand felt hot on my chin. “Can't you be happy for me, Jess?”

  I had to look away, and then the door opened and one of Lily's friends poked her head in to tell her she was being summoned. In the distance, I heard the sound of a knife clicking against a glass, a voice raised in a toast, people clapping, someone calling her name. Lily left without another word.

  The noise of the party had gone up a notch when I returned to the bar. My plan was to hang out there until the party was over. There was a large vase of stargazer lilies at one end, and their scent—nearly funereal in its heaviness—made me slightly ill. My head felt light, untethered to my body. I still felt the touch of Lily's fingers on my cheek, my chin. I wouldn't have minded getting a little drunk myself.

  “Buy you a drink, young lady?”

  “Uncle Brent,” I cried, and allowed myself to be enfolded in familiar arms. For the first time since I'd arrived at the club, I was genuinely glad to see someone. Brent had always been my favorite relative. When we'd been babies he had treated us for the usual childhood diseases. The summer I was ten, a splinter in my foot had become badly infected, and he was the only one I would let touch it. He had seen me through the whole cancer time. He wasn't my doctor—I had an oncologist—but Uncle Brent was there to explain things the cancer doctor didn't. My heart caught, he looked so much like my daddy.

  “Look at you,” he said. “You have turned into a beautiful woman. I wish your daddy could see you now.”

  Unexpected tears flooded my eyes.

  “Hey now, none of that.” He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped my cheeks, stroking over the exact spot Lily had touched earlier. “What are you drinking?”

  “Gin and tonic.”

  “Two,”he told the bartender. When we were served, he carried the drinks to a table off to the side, held a chair for me.

  “I thought you were in Hawaii,” I said. My aunt Monica had died two years before, and after she died, Brent surprised everyone by turning over his practice to a young doctor and moving west.

  “I was. I just flew in yesterday.”

  “It was so nice of you to come to Mama's party.”

  “I wouldn't have missed it,” he said. I'd forgotten how much he sounded like my daddy. After our daddy died, I used to fantasize that Lily and Uncle Brent would marry. It would be almost like having my daddy back, I'd told Ashley once, and my sister had asked what I planned to do with the inconvenience of Aunt Monica. Oh, maybe she'll get hit by a bus, I'd said with the single-minded callousness of a teenager. Ridiculous, but nearly two decades later, I still felt a twinge of guilt about Monica's death. “So how are you doing?” I asked.

  “Well, I keep busy. My golf game's improved. I do some work at a volunteer clinic.”

  “And you like Hawaii?”

  “Love it. You should come out and visit.”

  “You must miss Aunt Monica.”

  “More than you can imagine.” His voice was raw.

  “Maybe you'll see her again,” I said, keeping my tone light.

  “You mean in another life?”

  “Do you believe in that?” I asked. “Do you believe in life after death?”

  “You're asking the wrong question, Jessie.”

  “The wrong question?”

  He nodded. “The question is, is there life before death?” He took a sip of his drink and sighed. “Of course I miss her, Jess. Always will. But I know better than anyone that death is a normal part of life. We just forget that. It's the fear of death that's so terrible. It holds us back from life.”

  “You sound exactly like Faye,” I said.

  “Faye?”

  “Faye Wilson.”

  He gave the faintest of faraway smiles, as if remembering a sweet moment, and that trick of time happened when you could look at someone and see exactly what they looked like when they were six
or ten or seventeen. “God, I haven't thought about her in years,” he said. “I used to have quite a crush on her back when the whole family used to summer on the Cape. She was quite a looker. A bit wild, too. She never gave me the time of day. We all thought she was smitten with Lowell. When did you see her?”

  “I'm staying at the Harwich Port house this year,” I said. “Faye is the volunteer coordinator for the local hospice, and I've been doing some volunteer work with her.”

  “Good for you. Hospice is a great organization. Those people do amazing work. I don't know how I would have managed during the last months with Monica without them.” His eyes focused on some imaginary point, and I knew he had gone off to a place I could not follow.

  Off to our right, a woman laughed. Voices swirled around us. “The man I'm caring for has pancreatic cancer,” I said.

  He leaned in, back in the present. I could sense his professional interest click in. “When was it diagnosed?”

  “In January.”

  “What kind?”

  “Adenosarcoma,” I said. I had read this on Luke's chart, learned it was the fastest kind of cancer.

  “So he must be close to the end, then,”he said, accepting the inevitability of Luke's death.

  “How does it happen? Death, I mean.”

  “You mean the physiology of it? The process?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, basically, the body wastes away. It's a series of losses. Systems begin to shut down, one by one. Digestive is the first. Then bowels and bladder.”

  I thought about what Luke had said. I don't want to die piece by piece. “And the last?”

  “Well, the heart, of course. And hearing,” he said. “Hearing is the last sense to disappear into unconsciousness.”

  “It's so hard to watch,” I said, swallowing against tears.

  “But a blessing to witness, too,”he said.

  “I don't know if I agree with that,” I said automatically.

  “Every death is a gift to the person observing,” he said. “A tremendous lesson and blessing.”

  “Even Monica's?”

  “Yes.” His eyes watered momentarily, and a spasm of pain crossed his face. I realized then that he loved my aunt and that I'd never had the slightest clue about their marriage.