by Marta Acosta
He gave me a slow smile. “It’s in those extreme situations that calmness and reason are most important.”
“We’d have to be more specific about the extreme situation before I’d agree.” I admired Sam, but he lacked a flair for the dramatic. “Sam, have you heard back from the Council about the loyalty oath?”
“They haven’t gotten back to me.” He looked off for a moment and then said, “This incident won’t help.”
“They’re not going to blame me?” I asked, stunned.
Instead of answering, he gave me a hug and said, “Come visit us soon.”
Cornelia was on her second martini and in such a good mood that my concerns that she would exploit the situation began to dissipate. Gabriel’s presence always cheered us, and I was disappointed when he left.
Cornelia came into the kitchen while I was making dinner, ostensibly in search of cocktail olives. I handed her a bottle and she said, “Joseph told me that Oswald should grow olive trees here.”
“I’ve thought of that,” I said. “Even an acre could give us a nice crop in some years.”
“Really?”
Well, that’s all it took. As I chopped and sautйed vegetables, I started talking about an olive grove and other possible gardening ideas. Somehow I was soon describing the differences between annuals and perennials, and deciduous versus evergreen plants. I discussed the value of botanical names.
“Common names can be colorful, like kiss-me-over-the-garden-gate, but they’re not precise. If someone mentions mock-orange, he could be talking about a variety of Philadelphus or about Pittosporum undulatum, which is also called Victorian box.” This was one of my favorite shrubs, and the heady scent always made me think of being in love. I’d planted one beside the house, where I hoped it would survive the winter cold.
She said, “Ian finds your fanaticism amusing, but that’s more than I ever cared to know.”
Since Oswald wasn’t around, I asked, “How is your brother? And Ilena?”
“Wildly happy together. He called last night and I told him about your accident. He’ll be relieved to learn that you were only a victim of rats.” She laughed, and when I didn’t join in, she said, “Try and see the positive side. A girl in trouble is irresistible to Oswald. He wants to have some troubled female leaning on his strong and capable shoulders.”
After our meal, we settled into the family room with blood spritzers and watched a Dutch film about a young artist who goes mad when her lover abandons her. I found it quite tragic and blinked back tears. Cornelia seemed to think it was a comedy.
When I gave her a look, she said, “Oh, Americans always take love so seriously.”
“Cornelia, what is your nationality, anyway?”
“I’m a citizen of the world, darling.”
It was the same answer her brother had once given me. I thought they probably had a stash of various passports and identification documents.
I took a few dog biscuits outside and wandered into the fields calling for Pal. He probably didn’t even know he had a name.
I went through the garden, inhaling the scent of mock-orange, and remembered a poem I’d read somewhere about the scent of the blossoms. I’d look it up tomorrow.
As I washed up before going to bed, I kept looking at my engagement ring glittering in a china dish on the vanity. Beside it was the silver penknife.
The next day, I decided that I was done with being passive and patient. The first thing I was going to do was get behind the wheel again. I told Cornelia I was running a few errands and would be back soon.
“If you don’t return, shall I alert a pest control company?”
I could have come back with several snappy rejoinders about Cornelia and vermin. But now I owed her. “Can I pick up anything for you in town?”
“A case of the palest rosй you can find,” she said. “That little spa has a nail polish called Bruised that I like. And please bring back the latest issues of the magazines, including both French and Italian Vogue.”
“Sorry, but the store only carries the domestic edition.”
“What good is that? Oh, bring it anyway.”
I took my keys and went to my little green truck. Before leaving, I looked in the engine. It stank of the mothballs Ernie had put in there to deter rodents, but nothing was obviously amiss.
On the way down the drive, I hit the brakes and played with the steering. Everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about.
Although the town was small, the local market had a fine selection of wines from local wineries. I found a suitably uncommited rosй and bought a case, along with magazines and groceries. The cozy spa was out of Bruised but recommended a similar red-black shade called Gangrene.
I kept the truck’s windows down, not just because my air-conditioning was broken but so I could better listen to the engine. My confidence in the vehicle was restored by the time I pulled into the parking lot at the nursery. A new sign with Lupine Fields Nursery on it had been raised above the front door. Joseph came out front as I got out of the truck.
“Hey, muffin!” He gave me a huge hug, lifting me off the ground for a few seconds.
“Hi to you, too!” I said. It was always so delightful when people were happy to see me. And by people, I meant handsome, hunky guys.
When he put me down, he asked, “How are you?” and it sounded like an actual question, instead of just a cordial remark.
“Good. I’ll be better after a little retail therapy here.” He kept looking at me, and I realized he’d probably heard about the accident. In a small town, word got around fast. “My car went off the road on the mountain, though.”
“I heard about that. What happened?”
Recalling Cornelia’s jokes about the rats, I said, “Mechanical failure. Faulty computer thingy. Totally a fluke.”
“That road is a menace.”
“It is. Cars go off it all the time, especially in the winter,” I said. “That’s why they have those emergency roadside call boxes. But usually the drivers just ram into some trees and their alcohol level keeps them from feeling any pain.”
“You were so worried about my car swipe, and here you are acting nonchalant about flying off a mountain road.”
“Like you, I’d rather not think about it right now. Let’s enjoy the day. I love the name of your nursery.”
“You mentioned the lupine blooming in the spring and it seemed like a good enough name.”
“Just wait till you see it. The hills turn the most marvelous shade of blue-purple. What’s new in your stock?”
“Let me show you.”
As we were walking back to the nursery, Joseph sniffed and looked around. “What’s that smell?”
I shrugged. “Mothballs. These clothes were in storage.”
I bought a flat of thyme, several lavenders, rosemary, and annuals that would bloom in autumn. When Joseph said that he’d like to see my garden sometime, I realized that he probably hadn’t met many people here yet.
“Come to dinner tonight,” I said. “Cornelia will be happy to see you, and you can meet my guy.”
He grinned. “Cornelia’s something, isn’t she?”
Some “thing” was an accurate assessment. “Yes, she is.”
“I like that hard edge with the femininity. I hate clingy, needy women, and Cornelia’s not that.”
“So you do understand Cornelia,” I said with surprise.
“Oh, yeah, I get her. Just like I get you. Under all the sexiness and friendliness, you’re a complicated chick, aren’t you? I’m only here because I had to get away from my ex. Who are you hiding from?”
I laughed, but it was a little forced, since I’d first come here to hide. “You accuse me of complexity to flatter my ego. I’m sure that works with some girls.”
“Nah, usually they just check out my butt and that works.”
I laughed as I loaded the last of the plants in the truck. “So can you make it to dinner, or not?”
He said he’d
come after work, and I gave him directions. As I said good-bye, he gave me a terrific hug.
At the ranch, I called Oswald’s offices and left a message that Joseph was coming to dinner. Then I called his grandmother. “Hi, Edna. Do you know that I nearly died the other day?”
“Hello, Young Lady. Sam told me the news. He said that you accused Cornelia of trying to murder you.”
“The murder claim might have been premature, but I did really nearly die.”
She paused. “Of course, I’m happy you’re all right. You have more lives than a cat.”
“So it seems, but I still got freaked out. It didn’t feel like an accident. It felt intentional.”
“I can see how you would think that, but Sam said the investigator didn’t have any doubts that it was accidental.”
“I know. That’s what perplexes me. I’m extremely perplexed. I’m beyond perplexed. Superplexed even. Ьberperplexed. Come home.”
“Since you’re fine, there’s no need to curtail my holiday.”
“Holiday from what?”
“From your field of chaos and drama.”
We snipped back and forth before moving on to other chatter. I told her about Joseph Alfred, the new nursery, and my quasi pet, Pal. Finally, I asked a question that had been on my mind. “Edna, do you think Oswald is attracted to women who are in a state of crisis? Do you think he was attracted to me because I was in a state of crisis?”
“What peculiar questions.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Young Lady, you make your attractions evident enough to any breathing heterosexual male.”
“Yes, and some adventurous nonheterosexual males as well, but that is another nonanswer.”
“Are you bickering with me?”
“I’m really trying to, but it’s more fun doing it in person when I can see you sneering at me.”
“Good-bye, Young Lady.”
“Good-bye, Edna.”
I found Cornelia in the pool compound, floating in the blue water, her narrow butt sunk in the middle of an inner tube. The day’s bright, clear light was filtered through the translucent roof, keeping her safe from the sun’s rays. The vampires lived longer and healthier lives, but I was frequently struck by pity for them.
“Corny…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Cornelia, Joseph is coming for dinner.”
She sat up so quickly that the inner tube rolled over and dumped her in the water. She splashed to the surface, sputtering, her hair plastered to her head. It was the first time I’d ever seen Cornelia lose her poise, and I wished I had a camera.
She swam to the edge of the pool and pulled herself up. I tossed her a towel. She sniffed and said, “What is that-”
“Mothballs. Dinner’s at seven.”
She dried herself, saying, “I suppose I could help you with something.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I could, mmm.” She thought for a moment. “I could arrange the flowers.”
When she had dressed and put on her enormous straw hat, we went out to the garden. I didn’t entirely trust her with my precious Felco pruners. I thought she’d either snip off her fingers or kill one of my plants, but I showed her how to cut the stems of fragrant old roses. “This one is ‘Rкve D’or,’” I said.
“Dream of gold,” she translated.
She gathered lacecap hydrangeas and pretty spirea branches. I saw how she selected the flowers and sought out things that balanced their color and texture. “You have an eye for gardening,” I said.
“I used to garden with my mother. My first mother. She was a wonderful homemaker.”
“Was it hard going to live with Ian’s family?”
She thought before saying, “Quite different. His parents, our parents, were in their adult world and we were in ours. Ian took care of me.” She turned to me and said, “I would do anything for him.”
I got the distinct feeling that “anything” included everything from picking up his mail when he was out of town to slaughtering his enemies. “Were you raised in the children’s quarters?”
She pulled her hand back sharply from a bush. A drop of red blood appeared on the tip of her finger. She eyed it lovingly, then put it to her mouth, sucking for a moment. When it had stopped bleeding, she said, “Didn’t Oswald tell you?”
“We don’t talk about Ian or his family.”
“Would you like to know the family shame?”
“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”
“Our parents are addicts,” she said bluntly.
“But how? If they’re like Ian,” I said-and thought, like me, too-“they wouldn’t really feel the effects of alcohol or drugs.”
“They don’t have his level of resistance to drugs, but that’s not their problem. They’re addicted to blood.”
“But it’s just a craving.” A strong, sometimes overpowering craving.
“They were always looking for the most exotic taste, traveling everywhere, drinking from heroin addicts, the terminally ill, virgins, whores, monks.” She watched my face and I didn’t bother to hide my horror. “You know where the most exquisite blood was, don’t you, Young Lady? In their son’s small body.”
I wanted to tell her to stop talking, but I didn’t.
“They used to call him to their room every night. They told him he was sick and they needed to check his blood, just take a small vial. Then they’d lock themselves up and we wouldn’t see them until the next afternoon.”
So that’s what Mrs. Smith was alluding to when she mentioned his difficult youth. “They’re monsters,” I said.
“Don’t be so squeamish, darling. They were only human, our type of human, and otherwise they’re very loving and thoughtful. Ian put a stop to it when he was old enough to realize what was happening, and he’s never let anyone else taste his blood since then.” She smiled and said, “Except you. But you’re always the exception, aren’t you?”
All my life, all I’d ever wanted to be was an ordinary human chica, to be part of a larger whole, to be normal. “Yes, I am always the exception.”
She sighed and said, “I shouldn’t have shared that with you, but secrets can be such a burden.”
Poor Ian, I thought. Poor Cornelia. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about this.”
“I’m relying upon you, darling. Now where are your vases?”
sixteen
to kill a mock-orange
I had time to shower and change into clothes that didn’t reek of pesticides. The scoop-neck blouse I wore revealed lots of interesting pulse points to attract Oswald’s attention. I wasn’t sure of many things, but I was sure of this: life was too precarious to give up lovemaking with a fabulous man in the hopes that blood-drinking bureaucrats would give you vacation time-shares.
Oswald came home carrying his suit jacket. I was in the dining room, setting the table. “Hi, babe,” he said and then stopped and took a longer look.
I lifted my chin to lengthen my neck. I would learn to relax and satisfy my future husband’s needs. After all, I’d done it before. “Hello, Oz.”
He gave me a kiss, but pulled away when I tried to prolong it. “Why did you invite this guy to dinner?”
“Cornelia really likes him and I like him, too.”
“Cornelia likes a lot of men. So do you. He must be good looking.”
“You know me-I’m happy to talk to anyone about horticulture. It doesn’t hurt that he has a totally rocking body.”
“I’m glad that’s cleared up.” Oswald kissed me again, and then his lips traveled just below my ear. I shifted my body toward his, pressing against his hips. I closed my eyes and enjoyed his warmth, his delectable Oswaldy smell, his beautiful lean body.
The dogs began barking as a truck approached the front drive. I nipped Oswald’s pink earlobe. Ears were full of blood, and normal people pierced ears every day. Later tonight, I’d give cutting his lobe the old F.U. try and
prove that I was capable of being everything he desired in a wife.
The buzzer for the front gate sounded.
Oswald took his arms from around me and looked down at the front of his trousers. “Why are you getting me all revved up?”
“It’s in my job description. You save that, uhm, revving for later, and I’ll get the gate.”
I took one last look around the house. Everything seemed in order. The crystal wineglasses gleamed and the silver had a lovely warm sheen. I’d even ironed the napkins. Well, not ironed in the technical sense of the word, but I had thrown them in the dryer until they weren’t wrinkled anymore.
I walked up the drive and opened the gate for the truck with the Lupine Fields Nursery sign on the side and waved Joseph in, closing the gate after the truck. He waited a few yards on, and I hopped into the passenger seat and said hi. He was looking particularly spiffy in a blue polo with an organic compost company logo and olive green pants. His dark hair was loose and smelled marvelous, like pine-scented shampoo.
I directed him to the car park, and when we got out of the truck, the dogs surged toward us. Just as quickly, they backed down, slinking away. “That’s odd,” I said. “They’re usually delirious to meet a guest.”
Joseph shrugged his rangy shoulders and said, “Dogs always keep their distance from me.”
“Me, too, lately. They’ve decided they belong to the ranch hand, Ernesto.” I slipped my arm through his. “Let’s have dinner first and then I’ll show you around.”
He looked around at the magnificent oaks and walnut trees, the vistas out to the mountains, the small vineyard, and the barn and pool compound. “This is all yours?”
“Not hardly,” I said and laughed. “The ranch is Oswald’s. I own some of the plants in the garden. That’s about the sum total of my worldly belongings.”
“This will be yours when you get married.” Even though I’d worn the low-cut blouse for Oswald, Joseph was not oblivious to my charms. “You look real pretty, cookie.”
“Thank you. So do you. That shirt makes your eyes look as blue as bachelor’s buttons.”
The wind was really blowing this evening and the trees rustled loudly and my skirt blew up around my hips. I laughed and pulled it back down. “We’re having cocktails inside tonight,” I said.
