“I don’t understand how you can be so thoughtless,” she began. “I was really frightened for you, Carly.”
“For me? Why were you frightened for me?”
“I was so sure you wouldn’t be late tonight, when you knew Father would be here and how angry he’d be.”
“I don’t know,” Carly said. “I guess I just wasn’t thinking for a while, about Father being angry, I mean.”
Nellie’s frown softened to a puzzled look. “You weren’t thinking about Father being angry?” she repeated, making it into a question. “How can you not think about…?” She stopped for a moment and her frown returned. “I was frightened because I was so sure you wouldn’t be late unless there’d been an accident, or something had happened to you. Charles said you’d gone up into the hills on the Kellys’ donkeys, and I just felt sure the donkey had slipped on one of those narrow trails, or something else awful had happened.”
“No,” Carly said. “Nothing bad happened. I just forgot. It was so exciting—seeing the condor and the other dead one by the spring. I just forgot how late it was.”
“And then when I saw that you were all right, and that it was just carelessness again…” Nellie paused and then went on, sounding more angry than ever. “Carly, if you don’t mind upsetting Father, you should remember that I do. And Charles most of all. Didn’t you stop to think that if Father had known what happened he would have blamed Charles because he’d given you permission to go?”
Of course. That explained Charles’s anger. “I guess I just didn’t think,” Carly admitted.
“No.” Nellie’s voice was bitter. “You don’t think. You just don’t think about how other people feel. I was so angry when you came in and I saw that nothing had happened and that you had simply disobeyed again. I would have gone straight to Father and told him, if it hadn’t been for Charles. Charles was sure that Father would be furious at him for letting you go. Poor Charles was so worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Carly said. “I’m sorry Charles was so worried.” She slowly put away the dishpans and hung up her towel in the pantry. When she came back into the kitchen, Nellie was still sitting at the table holding her coffee cup between her hands. She was looking at Carly, but she didn’t look quite as angry. Carly smiled hopefully and sat down across the table.
“Nellie,” she said, “what would Father have done to Charles if he’d found out?”
Nellie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if Rosemary really did fall down the cliff with me and I broke my neck—and Charles had told me that I could go. What would Father do to Charles? Would he make him stay in his room for a week, like I had to when I went swimming in the water tank? Or would he disinherit him and make him go out in the world to seek his fortune like in—”
“Oh, Carly!" Nellie thumped the coffee cup down on the table and jumped to her feet. “You are just incorrigible. Making up nonsense like that instead of thinking about how thoughtless you’ve been and how much trouble you’ve caused everybody. Of course Father wouldn’t have disinherited Charles. And it’s not that Charles is afraid of what Father would do to him. It’s just that Father does get very upset when people don’t do what they should, and Charles hates to upset him.”
Carly shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure about what?”
“That Charles isn’t afraid of Father. It seems to me—”
Nellie’s eyes were flashing again and the angry red was spreading on her cheeks. “Now you listen to me, Mehitabel Carlton Hartwick. It’s you who should be more afraid. Everyone used to think it was so cute the way you were such a fearless baby, going up to strangers and big dogs, and climbing on everything, and standing up to Father and other grown-ups. But it’s not so cute anymore when it causes other people so much grief. You should be afraid to be such a wicked, thoughtless child—afraid that not only your father but God, too, will be angry at you for causing so much trouble. Now you just march right up to your room and say your prayers and ask God to forgive you.”
“Nellie, I…” Carly began, and then gave up. Sometimes it just seemed impossible to know what would make Nellie angry. “All right,” she said. “I’m going.”
In her room Carly threw herself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. They were all angry at her. All but Father and Mama, and the only reason they weren’t was because they hadn’t even noticed that she was missing. All her family either hated her or didn’t care about her at all. She began to breathe deeply and blink her eyes rapidly, and in only a few seconds the tears came. Hot and wet, they spilled up from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. After she’d cried for several minutes she rearranged herself on the bed with her head on the pillow and her feet neatly side by side. Then she folded her arms over her chest and clasped an imaginary lily with both hands.
She was dying. Her heart was so broken that it would soon cease to beat, and when they came in she would be cold and stiff, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. They would bury her in the graveyard next to poor little Petey and then people would write sad poetry about her and cry whenever her name was mentioned. And Aunt M. and Woo Ying…
Thinking about how Aunt M. and Woo Ying would respond to the news of her sudden death was sad—but somehow comforting. Thinking of the two of them beside her lonely grave reminded her of the grave Woo Ying had helped her make for her pet canary—how they had made little gifts of paper and burned them, so that the smoke would carry the gifts up to heaven, as people did in China when somebody died. Her cheeks were almost dry and she was beginning to feel sleepy, when there was a tap on the door and Nellie came in.
Standing beside the bed, Nellie looked down at Carly, her face expressionless. Carly stared back, wide awake now, and wondering.
“What are you doing?” Nellie said. “Why aren’t you ready for bed?”
“I was thinking,” Carly said.
“Have you said your prayers?”
“No,” Carly said. “Not exactly.”
Nellie shook her head reprovingly, but then the corners of her mouth curled up in a reluctant smile. She held out her hand. “Jump up now. I’ll unbutton your dress while I’m here.”
Carly jumped up and turned her back and quick fingers began to work their way down her spine. The fingers were firm and quick, but their gentleness plainly said that Nellie was no longer angry. Carly felt a rush of relief, followed a moment later by an uneasy feeling that she didn’t really deserve to be forgiven. It was true that she hadn’t even thought about poor Charles being blamed. And what if Nellie knew that she’d only been playing dead and feeling sorry for herself when she should have been repenting and asking God for forgiveness? Guilt descended, a heavy weight on her shoulders and a bitter taste in her mouth. She took a long, shuddering breath.
“Oh, Nellie. It seems like it’s so hard for me to remember to be good. I don’t see why I couldn’t be just naturally good, like you.”
Nellie took Carly by the shoulders and turned her around. She was smiling in a strange, unhappy way. “Oh, Carly,” she said. “That’s such a foolish thing to say. Sometimes I think there’s nothing very natural about any of us.” She pulled Carly closer and gave her a quick kiss on top of the head, and added, “Except perhaps for you.”
“What do you mean?” Carly asked quickly, but Nellie only shook her head and hurried out of the room. Carly sighed deeply. It was so frustrating when Nellie said things like that and then wouldn’t explain what she meant.
Like the time Carly had offered to stay with Mama while Nellie and Lila went shopping and Mama had said Carly was too irresponsible because she’d been spoiled by living at Greenwood for so long. And afterward in the kitchen Nellie had slammed things around and said, “Spoiled! She should talk about people being spoiled!” But when Carly asked if she meant that Mama was spoiled, too, Nellie had only frowned and said what she always did—that Anna and Ezra Hartwick were the best parents anyone could ask for
, “—and don’t you ever forget it, Carly Hartwick.”
Carly sighed again, crawled into bed, and stopped worrying by thinking, instead, about condors.
Chapter 14
BY SUNDAY THE unseasonable hot spell had ended and the usual weather pattern for May and June—foggy mornings and cool, sunny afternoons—had returned. Getting ready for church, Carly decided that it was cold enough to wear her new coat. Not new exactly, but a recent hand-me-down from Lila, it was a lovely shade of periwinkle-blue and had a wide sash belt. Nellie had taken up the hem, but it was still a bit longer than most of the things in Carly’s closet. The new longer length made her feel older, almost grown-up. And something, perhaps the fact that the coat had looked so beautiful on Lila, made Carly feel beautiful too. She was ready to go, shoes buttoned and coat belted, when Nellie came in to help with her hair bow.
“All ready,” Nellie said. “Good.” Then she sighed. “All except your hair.”
“I brushed it,” Carly protested. “It just won’t lie flat. And that new ribbon just won’t make a bow. See. I tried and tried and it just looks like a wad.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Nellie said.
She untied the wadded ribbon and loosened Carly’s troublesome hair, thick and brown and just curly enough to be unruly. After brushing it firmly, she pulled it back, tied it with a bit of string, and then with the stubborn new ribbon. Carly watched in the mirror as Nellie skillfully coaxed the white satin folds into a bow so wide that it stood out like wings on each side of her head.
“There,” Nellie said. “You look lovely. Hurry downstairs now. Charles has the surrey out front. And don’t forget to say good-bye to Father and Mama.”
In the parlor Father was seated next to Mama’s sofa. Carly stopped for a moment in the doorway to admire them. On Sundays Father always wore a tie and his gray suit. Mama was wearing her best Chelsea cloth wrapper with her new white shawl over her shoulders. They looked, Carly always thought, like Robert Browning, the famous poet, and his beautiful invalid wife, Elizabeth.
On the lamp table beside Father’s chair were the big family Bible, Harrison’s Anthology of Notable Sermons, and Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Conduct of Life. Every Sunday, while the rest of the family went to church, Father stayed at home and read to Mama. It was a sacrifice that he made so the rest of the family could attend church regularly. That was what he’d said to Reverend Mapes one day when the preacher was visiting. Afterward, while Father was walking the preacher out to his buggy, Arthur said it was a sacrifice he’d be only too glad to make, if Father would only let him.
“Maybe he’d let you,” Carly said. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Not a chance,” Arthur said. “If he ever lets anyone miss church, it won’t be a rascal like me. Or you either.” He grabbed Carly and tickled her. “Or you, either, you little sinner.”
She had giggled when Arthur tickled her, but afterward she wondered about sins in general and hers and Arthur’s in particular. She had a feeling that Arthur’s were a great deal more exciting than her own, but when she asked him about them he only laughed.
She was still standing in the doorway thinking about sin and sacrifice when Father looked up from his book and saw her. “Carly,” he said, “what are you doing there? I think the others are all ready.”
“Ah”—Mama turned her head on the curved headrest of the sofa—“you’re wearing Lila’s coat. It looks quite nice on you.” She held out her hand. “I do hope you’ve remembered to clean your nails.”
“Yes, I did.” Carly put her hands in Mama’s and left them there. Mama’s hands were incredibly soft. When she had looked at Carly’s nails she took her hands away and put them back under the edge of her shawl.
“And what verses have you prepared?” Father asked.
“We only had to learn one for today,” Carly said. “There’s going to be a visiting preacher, and Mrs. Mapes said it would be nice if we all learned the text for his sermon. The text is”—Carly stood up straight with her hands gracefully clasped, as she had learned in Mrs. Reed’s elocution class—“Matthew twenty-three, thirty-three. ‘Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can you escape the damnation of hell?’”
“Oh, dear,” Mama said.
“Yes, I see,” Father said. “It seems that Santa Luisa’s sinners are to be dangled over the fiery pit again. Ah, well, there are certainly those who might benefit by a slight scorching. Run along now, Carly. As usual, you’ve kept everyone waiting.”
Carly would have liked to ask a question, or perhaps two. She would have liked to know who needed scorching and also why, but when Father said run along, you ran.
In the surrey Lila and Nellie were in back under the fringed sunshade, but Carly chose to squeeze in between her brothers on the driver’s seat. Arthur flipped the reins across old Prince’s back, and they started off at a fast trot.
The ride into Santa Luisa went very quickly. Carly told Arthur some of the things she’d learned from Matt about condors, and Arthur said what did Matt know about it? So she explained how Matt had learned all about condors from his grandfather. Arthur laughed and said, “What does that uneducated old squatter know?” But Nellie said Dan Kelly probably knew a lot. Nellie said that, according to Mr. Wolfson, the high school principal, Dan Kelly was a self-taught authority on the wildlife of Ventura County. “Don’t you remember hearing Mr. Wolfson say that?” she asked Lila. But Lila only shrugged and said that condors were disgusting and that she was sure that they were terribly dangerous, just like Arthur said.
After that Carly told about the ruined sign and the dead condor at the spring, and how Matt said it was Henry and Bucky who had done it, and everyone began to talk at once. Arthur said that if he caught Henry Babcock on Carlton property, whether he was shooting condors or whatever, he’d pick him up and shake the pants off him, and Nellie told Arthur not to be vulgar. Charles was asking Carly to explain again how Matt had known it was Henry who’d shot the condor, when Lila sighed so loudly that everyone turned to look at her. She was looking disgusted again. Carly was sure that Lila was the only person in the world who could look disgusted so beautifully. Curling her delicate upper lip, she wrinkled her short, straight nose and asked why they had to talk about revolting things like condors and Quigleys on Sunday morning.
Carly was agreeing that she felt the same way about the Quigleys, particularly Henry, when suddenly there they were in front of Greenwood. Aunt Mehitabel’s chestnut mare, Chloe, was tied to the hitching post and Woo Ying was waiting by the surrey with the step stool. In a flash Carly climbed over Arthur and jumped. She landed with a thud, her skirts flying, and Prince shied and skittered sideways. As Carly climbed up into the surrey she could still hear Nellie scolding and Arthur laughing as he pulled Prince around and the surrey started off down the road.
Carly always rode the rest of the way to church with Aunt M. and Woo Ying. Usually she sat up front with Woo Ying and leaned back over the seat so Aunt M. could hear, too, and told them all the news from the ranch house. Today there was more news than usual, all about the condors, and how it looked like Henry Babcock and his friend Bucky Hansen had been hanging around Carlton Spring shooting them.
Aunt M. and Woo Ying were a much better audience than her brothers and sisters had been. Except for amazed exclamations they listened in silence, and Aunt M. was still muttering and shaking her head and Woo Ying was still saying “Aiii” under his breath when the surrey pulled up in front of the church.
Chapter 15
THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH in Santa Luisa was a fine stone building with a tall central spire, and wide front steps. On the steps and the pathway that led to it, Santa Luisa’s Presbyterians were now slowly making their way into the building, or stopping to chat with other recent arrivals.
As Woo Ying tied Chloe to the hitching rail beside Prince, Carly noticed Arthur, Charles, and Lila going up the steps and disappearing inside the church. Nellie didn’t seem to be with them, and Carly guessed “Clarence” befo
re she even saw them. She looked around quickly and sure enough, there was Nellie talking to gawky old Clarence Buford, near the pine tree on the church lawn. Clarence, who had what Aunt M. called unfortunate teeth, and a funny loose-jointed way of walking, had followed Nellie around ever since grammar school. Arthur said that Clarence would have come courting Nellie long ago, if he weren’t so afraid of Father, and Lila said that Nellie shouldn’t be so nice to impossible people like Clarence, because it only encouraged them.
“Come on, missy,” Woo Ying said. “Don’t make Auntie wait.”
Carly stopped staring at Nellie and Clarence and jumped down, ignoring Woo Ying’s step stool. But after she caught up with Aunt M., she turned to wave and smile. Woo Ying would put on Chloe’s feed bag and then stay there by the surrey until everyone else had gone into the church before he came in to sit in the last pew near the door. She turned to wave again as she went up the steps with Aunt M.
The row reserved for Mrs. Mapes’s Intermediates was unusually crowded. Squeezing in between Mavis Johns and Edith Jenkins, Carly stuck her elbow in Edith’s ribs and whispered, “Scoot,” but Edith didn’t. Instead she only rolled her eyes and sat still. “Look,” she whispered. Carly looked and there, only a foot away from Edith—the foot that Edith wouldn’t scoot—was Henry Babcock.
Carly was surprised, because although Henry Babcock was a Presbyterian like the rest of the Quigleys, and a nominal member of the Intermediate Sunday School class, he was hardly ever there. Henry’s parents and grandfather only came to the eleven o’clock service, so Henry was sent to Sunday School all by himself every Sunday morning at a quarter to ten—and almost never arrived until eleven o’clock.
And Condors Danced Page 7
