Suffer the Children

by John Saul

  She sat quite still for a time, as if she had neither heard what her father said nor noticed the chaos around her. When eventually she moved, it was to begin cleaning up the mess. She cleared off the table first, then began on the wall and floor. She moved slowly, carefully, as if her mind was far from what she was doing. When she finished, she surveyed the dining room.

  “I was so sure that was Cecil,” she said, for no apparent reason. “But I guess it couldn’t have been.” She was silent, then spoke once more to the empty room. “I wish he’d come home.”

  Then Elizabeth, too, left the dining room.

  8

  To an observer they would have seemed no different from any other family at breakfast Perhaps one child—the younger—was much quieter than the other, but such is the case in any family. Only a particularly careful observer would have noted a slight air of strain around them, as if they were avoiding something. As, indeed, they were.

  Rose Conger was maintaining an almost grim good cheer, doing her best to prevent the silence that was normal for Sarah from becoming the norm for them all But she knew no one was paying any attention to her. She could see Jack, his face mostly hidden, trying desperately to concentrate on his morning paper. And she knew that Elizabeth was devoting more energy to getting food into Sarah than she was to listening to her mother.

  “And, of course,” Rose chirped, “they have a son.” She waited for a reaction, but there was none. She said, a little more loudly, “A fourteen-year-old son.” She was gratified to note that she suddenly had her older daughter’s attention.

  “Who does?” Elizabeth said, putting down the knife she had been using to slice Sarah’s sausages.

  “You haven’t been listening. The new neighbors. If you hadn’t been so engrossed, you’d have heard me.”

  Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” she said, with a grin that let it be known that she was apologizing more for the sake of form than for anything else. “Don’t tell me you actually sold the Barneses’ old place.” She made a face. “I hate that house. Who would want to live there?”

  “It’s a family,” Rose said, smoothing the tablecloth unconsciously. “An architect and an artist And their son. His name’s Jeff.”

  “A boy,” squealed Elizabeth. “A real live boy! What’s he look like?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be terribly handsome,” Rose replied. “Isn’t the boy next door always supposed to be terribly handsome?”

  Elizabeth blushed, and the sudden flushing disconcerted Rose. And then it hit her that she had somehow come to think of Elizabeth as being older than she was. She had to remind herself that Elizabeth was only thirteen, and that thirteen-year-old girls are very likely to blush when boys are mentioned.

  “Actually, I don’t know what he looks like. But well all know over the weekend. Carl and Barbara—they’re the new neighbors,” she added for the benefit of Jack, who had finally put his paper down. “Carl and Barbara Stevens will be coming down this morning, and I’m going to spend most of the day with them.” Jack looked at her questioningly.

  “Well,” Rose went on, a little uncomfortably, “since the Barneses aren’t around, somebody has to show them how the house works. Particularly a house like that” She saw a shadow of doubt cross Jack’s face.

  “All right,” she said, putting down her napkin. “Also, I feel like being a busybody neighbor and seeing what I can find out about them. So far they seem to be a delight, and I think it would be nice to have neighbors who are also friends. It would be fun to have people we like close enough for dropping in, and I intend to promote it.”

  “Well,” Jack said, the shadow of doubt now growing into a cloud. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” Rose saw his eyes flick involuntarily toward Sarah. It was so fast that she was sure he wasn’t aware that he had done it; she was equally sure she hadn’t imagined it. She decided to face the issue directly. She began folding the napkin into smaller and smaller squares.

  “I see no reason why we should behave like hermits,” she said slowly. “If there is a reason, I’d like to know what it is.”

  The color drained from Jack’s face, and he stared at his wife.

  “I—I should think—” he began. Then he fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  “I should think,” Rose said definitely, “that we should keep in mind what century we are living in. Having a daughter in White Oaks School is not something we need to be ashamed of. If you think it is, then you have more of a problem than Sarah does.” She paused as she saw Jack signaling with his eyes to where Elizabeth sat, listening to what her mother was saying. Making up her mind, Rose turned to Elizabeth.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “About what?” Elizabeth asked carefully, unsure of the direction things were taking.

  “Well,” Rose said, casting about in her mind for the proper words. “About Sarah, I suppose.”

  Elizabeth looked directly at her mother—almost accusingly, Rose thought She seemed to be struggling with herself, and almost on the verge of tears. Then, she found her voice as her tears overflowed.

  “I think,” she said, fighting back a sob with a small, choking sound, “that we all should remember that Sarah isn’t deaf. She doesn’t talk, but she hears.” She stared beseechingly at her mother for a few seconds, then turned back to her sister. “Come on, Sarah,” she said. “Let’s go get ready for school.” She took Sarah’s hand, and led her out of the dining room. Silently, Rose and Jack watched them go.

  “From the mouths of babes.” Jack said softly. Then he saw the tears running down his wife’s face. He moved from his chair and knelt beside her. She buried her face in his shoulder, and her body shook with her sobs.

  “What are we going to do, Jack?” she said into his ear. “She makes me feel ashamed sometimes. Absolutely ashamed. And she’s only thirteen.”

  Jack patted her gently. “I know, darling,” he said. “I know. I guess sometimes children have an easier time of things. They seem to be able to accept things the way they are. And we have to fight it.”

  “It?” Rose looked up. Their eyes met, and there was closeness between them, a closeness Rose hadn’t felt since the early years of their marriage.

  “Life,” Jack said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could stop fighting life?”

  Rose nodded. “But we can’t, can we?” Jack didn’t answer, nor did Rose expect him to.

  A few minutes later Rose looked in on her daughters. Elizabeth, already dressed, was brushing Sarah’s thick dark hair. Sarah sat quietly in front of the mirror, but Rose couldn’t tell whether she was watching Elizabeth. She might have been, but she might also have been somewhere else, living a life that had nothing to do with this room, her sister, or anything else related to the house on the Point.

  “Do you need anything before I go?” Rose said.

  Elizabeth looked up and smiled. “An extra quarter for snack period?” she asked brightly. Rose shook her head. Elizabeth straightened up. “There,” she said. “What do you think?” Rose noted that the barrettes Elizabeth had fastened in her sister’s short, shiny hair did not match, and the part was not quite straight She decided not to comment on it.

  “What does Sarah think?” she countered.

  “Oh, she loves it,” Elizabeth said. “It keeps her hair out of her eyes.”

  “That counts for a lot,” Rose said, smiling. “Could you do the same for me?”

  “Sure,” Elizabeth said eagerly. “Now?”

  Rose laughed. “Later. I don’t have time now, and neither do you. But maybe tomorrow,” she added, seeing the light fade in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Kiss me good-bye?”

  Elizabeth approached her mother and tipped her head up to be kissed. Rose squeezed her quickly, then moved to the vanity, where Sarah sat, still apparently staring at her new hairdo. Rose knelt and wrapped Sarah in her arms.

  “Have a good day, sweetheart,” she whispered. She kissed the little girl several times, then hugged her once more.
“See you this afternoon,” she said.

  Downstairs again, Rose stopped in the kitchen to speak to Mrs. Goodrich. The housekeeper looked up at her inquiringly.

  “Has Cecil turned up yet?” Rose asked.

  Mrs. Goodrich shook her head.

  “Do me a favor and look around for him today, will you?”

  “Cats can take care of themselves. He’ll be back when he’s a mind to,” the old woman said.

  “I’m sure he will,” Rose said drily. “But would you mind having a look anyway? The children miss him. He might have gotten locked in somewhere.”

  “If he did, someone locked him,” Mrs. Goodrich stated. Then she relented. “Sure. You go on now—I’ll find him.”

  Rose smiled her thanks and went to find her husband. Jack had already left the house.

  In the kitchen, Mrs. Goodrich continued loading the dishes into the dishwasher. She was convinced that no machine could get dishes nearly clean enough for someone to eat from, but she used the machine anyway. She simply washed them to her own satisfaction before loading them into the machine and left out the soap. She supposed the machine was good enough for rinsing, particularly since she rinsed them herself, too. She closed the door and pressed the button to make the dishwasher start. All that racket, she thought. It’s a wonder they don’t all smash. Then, over the noise of the washer, she heard another sound, from the front of the house. She moved to the kitchen door, opened it slightly, and listened.

  “No, Sarah,” she heard Elizabeth saying. “You can’t come with me. You have to wait here for the van.”

  Mrs. Goodrich heard Sarah wail, and moved through the door.

  “Oh, Sarah,” Elizabeth was saying, a little louder now. “I wish you could come with me, really I do, but you simply can’t. It’ll only be a few minutes.” There was another wail from Sarah. “Sarah, let go. I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”

  When Mrs. Goodrich appeared in the front hallway, Elizabeth was valiantly trying to free herself from Sarah’s grasp. The smaller girl held on to Elizabeth’s wrist with both hands, and Elizabeth was making no headway at all. Each time she pried one hand loose, the other would grasp her anew. She saw Mrs. Goodrich, and signaled to her to hurry.

  “Help,” she said, keeping her voice as light as she could. “Just hang on to her till I get out of sight, and she’ll be all right.”

  Mrs. Goodrich seized Sarah and held her firmly while Elizabeth put on her coat. “You hurry along now,” the woman said. “The sooner you’re gone, the easier time I’ll have. Not that I’m saying I don’t like having you around,” she added.

  “I know,” Elizabeth grinned. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  Elizabeth went to the front door, opened it, turned to wave to Sarah, then closed the door behind her. She tried not to listen as she heard Sarah’s voice rise in a howl of anguish. Instead, she concentrated on the trees that lined the driveway. By the time she reached the Point Road, she’d almost convinced herself that Sarah had stopped her howling.

  Behind her the battle that was raging was a strange one. Sarah’s outraged screams filled the house, and she struggled, twisting and squirming in Mrs. Goodrich’s arms. Her face set, the old woman drew every measure of strength she possessed to hang on as tightly as she dared, and hold the child without hurting her. Mrs. Goodrich saw no point in trying to talk to Sarah. She was sure the child would never hear her above her own din, and it would only be wasting her strength to try. Grimly, she held on.

  Then Sarah bit her. The housekeeper felt the teeth sink into her hand, into the fleshy part at the base of the thumb. She steeled herself against the pain and lifted Sarah off the floor. She carried the child to a window and turned so that Sarah could see out Sarah stopped howling.

  Mrs. Goodrich set her down then, and examined the thumb. The skin was broken, but not badly.

  “It’s been a long time since a child did that to me,” Mrs. Goodrich noted out loud. Sarah, her attention diverted from the window and the empty driveway beyond, stared up into the housekeeper’s face. Looking down into the huge, empty brown eyes, a surge of pity swept over the old woman. She slowly knelt down and put her arms around the child. “But I don’t suppose you meant anything by it, did you? And you’re not rabid, so there’s no real harm done.” She continued to hold the child, soothing her until she heard the van coming up the driveway. Then she hauled herself to her feet and, taking Sarah by the hand, led her back to the front door. Sarah stood docilely while Mrs. Goodrich bundled her into her coat, and made no objection when George Diller led her to the van. Mrs. Goodrich stood by the door and watched the van till it was out of sight. She didn’t wave; she was too tired from the struggle, and she didn’t really think Sarah would see it anyway. When the driveway was empty once again, she closed the door slowly and retreated to her kitchen, where she bathed the injured hand, winced as she applied iodine, and bandaged it. Then she remembered the cat.

  She was sure it was a waste of time, but she had agreed to make a search for Cecil, and she would. She decided to get the long climb to the attic out of the way first and work down from there. Getting to the second floor was no problem; she was used to that She carried the key to the attic door in her pocket, but instinctively tried the door as she reached for the key. The key dropped back into her pocket as the door opened, revealing the steep staircase. “Supposed to be locked,” she muttered to herself, pausing a moment to rest before tackling the stairs that led to the attic. As she climbed, she tried to remember the last time anybody had been up here. A month ago, when they had brought down the old portrait. She went into the attic and closed the door behind her.

  “Cecil?” she called. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty …”

  Elizabeth was halfway into town when she saw Kathy Burton walking ahead of her.

  “Kathy?” she yelled. The girl ahead of her stopped and turned around. “Wait up,” Elizabeth called. She ran until she caught up with her friend.

  “What are you doing out here?” she said when she was abreast of Kathy.

  “I was baby-sitting last night,” Kathy said. “At the Nortons’.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “They’re weird,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s so much older than she is …” Elizabeth trailed off, mulling the peculiarities of her elders. Then another thought occurred to her.

  “Your mother lets you baby-sit there?”

  “Sure,” Kathy said curiously. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “I mean after what happened to Aune Forager …”

  “Oh, that,” Kathy shrugged. “My mother says nothing happened to her at all. She says she’s a liar.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “That’s what my dad thinks, too. But I’m not sure he believes it.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “He’s just acting strange.” She looked around, and pointed to a bird that swooped from a nearby tree. “Look,” she said, “a jay.”

  Kathy followed her gesture, but missed the bird. “You sure are lucky, living out here,” she said. “That’s why I like to sit for the Nortons. I can stay over and walk back in the morning.”

  “I wish there was a bus,” Elizabeth said. “It gets boring after a while.”

  “I wouldn’t get tired of it if I lived out here,” Kathy said confidently. “It must be fun to be able to go exploring any time you want to.”

  Elizabeth nodded, but her attention was no longer on Kathy.

  A rabbit had flashed across the road ahead of the girls, and as Elizabeth watched it a strange expression crossed her face. She stopped, and seemed to be grasping at an elusive thought.

  “There’s a place,” she whispered.

  “What?” Kathy asked.

  “A secret place,” Elizabeth went on. She turned to Kathy and stared intensely into her eyes. “Would you like to go there sometime?”

  Kathy’s eyes widened. “What kind of place?”

  “If I told yo
u it wouldn’t be secret any more, would it?

  If I take you there, you have to promise never to tell anybody about it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t,” Kathy said, the excitement of sharing a secret bringing a quiver to her voice. “It would be just ours.”

  Elizabeth seemed on the verge of saying something more when she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching from behind them. She pulled Kathy off the road, and the two of them waited while the White Oaks van passed them. George Diller waved and tooted the horn as he passed. From the back of the van the girls could see Sarah, her face pressed against the rear window of the vehicle, until the bus took a curve in the road, moving out of sight When the van was gone, Elizabeth stopped waving, and she and Kathy once again began walking.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kathy asked.

  “Who?”

  “Sarah,” Kathy said.

  “Who said something’s the matter with her?” Elizabeth said defensively. It upset her to be asked questions about her sister.

  “My mother,” Kathy said matter-of-factly. “She said Sarah’s crazy.”

  Elizabeth stared at the ground for a while before she spoke again.

  “I don’t think you should talk that way about Sarah.”

  “Well, is she crazy?” Kathy pressed.

  “No,” Elizabeth said.

  “Then why does she go to White Oaks? That’s a place for crazy kids. They come from all over the country to go there.”

  “And they live there, don’t they?” Elizabeth pointed out. “If Sarah was crazy, wouldn’t she have to live there too?”

  Kathy thought it over. “Well, if she’s not crazy, why does she go there at all?”

  Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Something happened to her about a year ago. She was in the woods, and she fell or something. And now she can’t talk. If she went to school in town, everybody would laugh at her. But she’ll be all right, as soon as she starts talking again.”

  The two girls walked in silence for a while, and it wasn’t until they were into town that either of them spoke again.