Emily's Ghost

by Stockenberg, Antoinette

  "That's no problem," Lee said, sneaking a bit of frosting from a side flower. "Mother can take it. Emily, I'd like you to meet Inez, the real boss behind our operation, and my sister Grace, and my sister-in-law Hildie. If you're wondering about a pecking order, it goes: Inez, Mother, Grace, and then poor Hildie." He licked the frosting off his finger and wrapped an arm around his sister-in-law and kissed the top of her head. "Hildie's been in the family for only eight years, you see.

  Emily shook hands all around and said, "It seems to be a happy arrangement."

  Lee seemed almost surprised. "You're right. It is." He gave her another one of those looks, the ones that made her dizzy, and said, "If you want to wash up, I'll rustle up a sandwich for you."

  Emily begged off but took him up on his offer of a bathroom. As she walked out of the kitchen and down the hall she heard Hildie whisper, "All in favor? Show of hands."

  When she came out, Lee was waiting for her around the corner in the library. It was a man's room, fitted out in tufted leather and smelling faintly of tobacco. On the wall were seascapes in oil and a watercolor by Winslow Homer. Lee was slouched in an easy chair, staring thoughtfully at a cluster of framed photos on a small library table next to him. When he saw Emily, he went to her. "You were a hit," he said, tracing his fingertips across the line of her cheek.

  "You folks are easy to please," Emily quipped.

  "We're an impulsive bunch, it's true," he said, which is not what she really wanted him to say. He looked at her sideways as they walked out onto the terrace. "But we know what we like."

  Two other couples had joined Mrs. Alden on the terrace by now. They were old, old neighbors whose names Emily promptly forgot after being introduced to them. After a minute or two the smaller children began to assemble as if by primal instinct. The French doors were thrown open, and Jane and Richard came through with fierce expressions on their faces, walking in life-or-death synchronism with a blazing sheet cake between them. Somehow they managed to shift the cake from the palms of their hands onto the glass patio table -- to a round of relieved applause -- and then the birthday song began, cheerful and high-pitched, after which Mrs. Alden and eight little helpers extinguished the flames. There was more applause, and a certain amount of infighting over who got to pull the candles and suck off the frosting. Hildie got it all on video.

  The cake was cut and passed around, and the grown-ups chatted easily and amiably over coffee. Emily was neither the focus of the conversation nor ignored. The talk was general enough for her to join in -- overdevelopment and the dismal real estate situation, for example -- and when it wasn't, someone always made the effort to bring her up to speed. They were, in short, perfectly delightful company, and she wondered why she'd dreaded coming.

  After a while Mrs. Alden stood up and said, "Before it gets dark, let me show you the peonies."

  It wasn't an invitation so much as a friendly subpoena. Emily saw Lee exchange glances with his sister Grace, and that, more than anything, frightened her. If this was a cross-examination, she'd blow it for sure. She smiled nervously and fell in beside Mrs. Alden, who took her around to the front of the house to view a bed of exotic tree peonies soaking up the last of the day's gold light.

  "I do have a favorite, and this is it," Mrs. Alden said as she hovered over an exquisite, subtle flower the color of a Persian Bokhara. "It was here when I was a girl. My grandfather brought it back with him from the Orient."

  Emily smiled and murmured something nice, but she was thinking, My God. Even their flowers have longer bloodlines than I do. She was afraid to point to any one of the peonies as her own favorite. What if the one she liked was too pink or too common or, God forbid, a recent hybrid? She wanted Fergus and his commonsense approach: If it looked good and smelled good, it must be good.

  They walked back and forth a bit, with Emily afraid to have an opinion, until finally Mrs. Alden said, "You know, I've been wondering whether my son would ever bring someone home after, well, Nicole. You do know about Nicole, don't you?"

  Emily nodded, and Mrs. Alden went on. "The accident completely shattered Lee. You probably know that he was thinking of resigning his seat in the Senate. We all were so very, very worried about him. He's much more introspective than my other son. Charles is in Europe again this week; he's in sales."

  She plucked a brown leaf here and there as she spoke. "But Lee is an idealist, making him perfect for public office but not so very adept at finding, well, someone. You do understand me?"

  Emily nodded hesitantly. She had no idea what Mrs. Alden meant. Was she warning Emily away? Was she saying, "Hang in there, he'll come around"? Or was she softening the inevitable blow to come from him?

  "I'm glad we had this little chat," Mrs. Alden said in a kindly way. She reached into the pocket of her challis skirt and took out a pair of pruning shears. "Now. Which ones would you like for your room tonight?"

  Emily took a deep breath and pointed to a pale silvery lavender clump, even though she would have preferred the bright crimson ones farther down the line.

  "Ah. Mystery. A wise choice," Mrs. Alden said, sounding pleased.

  Chapter 15

  When the mosquitoes came out, everyone went in. Inez had set up a small buffet of quiches and cold cuts and crusty French bread. By now all the children were hungry again, and Emily -- who was becoming good at moving freely with a small child attached to each leg -- helped Hildie and Grace feed their brood. The kids had seized on Emily as one of their own, while Hildie and Grace marveled at the strength of the bond. Emily laughed and said something about being new blood, and Lee came around and made a big thing about biting her on the back of her neck, which made her blush. She saw Hildie and Grace smile at each other, and that made her blush even more.

  After the late snack, Grace and Hildie began rounding up the littlest ones for bed, but they broke free and ran laughing in jerky, flat-footed steps to Emily, and hid behind her skirt. Very quickly it turned into a game, and the children became more keyed up than ever.

  "Hopeless! They're nowhere near ready for sleep," said Hildie to Grace. "We've got to get them out of the living room. All right, you monsters," she said, addressing the horde, "I'm throwing you all in a cage together. Uncle Lee will put a television in your room, and you all can watch videos."

  An earsplitting cheer went up, followed by a stampede toward one of the bedrooms. Hildie winked at Emily. "Half of 'em will be asleep before today's tape plays through. We'll peel the bodies off one by one and redistribute them to their own beds later."

  "You spoil them, Hildie," said Grace mildly.

  But it was clear that Grace was ready for a little peace and quiet and some adult conversation. Emily had learned that Grace's husband, a political consultant, was also away a great deal. Didn't anyone work nine to five for the telephone company anymore? How did these women cope? Obviously, Emily decided, they banded together the way they were doing now. Why not? It worked for the Kennedy family.

  Lee stole the nineteen-inch television from the living room and staggered off with it. A moment later Missy -- adorable and shy -- came out and approached Emily. A couple of the others hung back behind her, peeking from the hall and giggling.

  With her thumb hanging comfortably from her lower teeth Missy said, "We want you to watch wif us."

  Flattered, Emily overrode Grace's objections and Hildie's apologies and let herself be dragged among the bunk beds. Lee was just hooking up the television, and Richard and Jane came in each with an armload of videotapes.

  "First we watch the birthday tape," announced Jane with her usual precision. "Then I pick the next one. Then Richard picks the next one. Then we go one by one according to age."

  Perhaps because Lee was in the room, Richard decided to defend his manhood. "We're twins!" he said. "How come you get to go first if it's according to age?"

  "Because I was born twenty-three minutes sooner and because J comes before R," said Jane. "Uncle Lee, you sit there," she said, pointing to one end of a
bunk bed, "because you're biggest. Then Emily sits next to you. Then Will, then Becky, no, Missy, no, wait, then Sarah . . ."

  But Richard had jumped the gun and popped in the birthday tape, and all the littlest ones plopped down on the floor in front of the screen except Missy, who climbed onto Emily's lap. "Oh, never mind," said Jane when she saw herself on camera. She fell to her knees in front of the screen and studied her performance with a keen and critical eye.

  The tape was a great success. Missy fell asleep in Emily's lap before it was over, and Becky on the floor soon after. Everyone agreed that Grammy did a pretty good job with the candles but that she couldn't have done it alone. But that was true last year, too. Emily was appalled by the number of times she was recorded sneaking looks at Lee --until she saw that the camera had also caught Lee in a long, serene gaze at her while she was talking with Grace.

  Sitting on the bunk bed with sweet-smelling Missy in her lap, leaning slightly into Lee's supporting arm behind her, Emily was well aware that she hadn't been so completely, simply happy since before her mother's death. Maybe it was because she'd let herself lose touch with her own family. She hadn't been home to New Hampshire since Christmas. After her mother died, she'd burrowed more deeply into her work and hidden there, like a frightened cub alone in a cave. Today was the first time she'd dared creep a little way out toward the warm sun.

  Hildie poked her head in the room just as the tape was finishing. "How did it turn out?" she asked Lee in a hushed voice as she gently lifted up the first fallen soldier she came across.

  Lee smiled and said, "Parts of it are downright inspiring." He leaned his arm into Emily's back in a nudging, comical way, sending her to the brink of embarrassed tears.

  Hildie shifted the sleepy weight in her arms. "I do possess some small talent, I think. Maybe I'll chuck all this and run away to Hollywood."

  "Mom-mee," said Sarah, distressed, "that's not fun-ny.

  "Oh, Sarah, you know I'd take you with me," Hildie said, smiling. "No one else would keep you."

  Jane and Richard were deep in conference behind Hildie, deciding on the next tape. "Let's try," whispered Jane, and Richard slipped the tape into the recorder. It opened on a scene very much like this afternoon's, except that all the characters were dressed in shorts and tank tops and some of them were hot and sweaty. They were split up into teams on either side of a net.

  Little Sarah recognized the scene. "Volleyball!" she cried.

  Hildie turned around sharply to the television. "Not that one, Dickie," she said coolly. "Eject it."

  Richard made a face, either because of the hated nickname or because he'd been the one caught in the deed. Behind her Emily felt Lee's arm stiffen. But he said, "Leave it in, Richard. We haven't seen it for a long time."

  "Lee—"

  "It's all right, Hildie," Lee said quietly.

  Hildie sighed a little nervously, then left with her burden. The tape played on. Emily knew whom she was looking for even before the camera zoomed in on her: a tall, utterly beautiful woman with rich brown hair and a face that could easily force men to their knees. It didn't surprise Emily that Nicole Alden proved to be an inept athlete; concert pianists rarely tried out for the Olympics. When Nicole missed a ball -- as she did often -- she did it with such good-humored grace and distress that Lee had no choice but to put his arms around her and show her how to shape a fist, and generally act besotted. Who wouldn't? The game ended, and the camera turned to other scenes and other actors.

  Hildie came back just as the tape was finishing and asked lightly, "How we doin' here? Can I haul off another one?"

  Emily stood up carefully with her own droopy bundle. "I'll give you a hand." She followed Hildie into a bedroom across the hall outfitted with another set of bunk beds and a single. Hildie undressed the sleeping children down to their underwear, and Emily wiped their sticky hands with a warm, damp washcloth. No one spoke until Hildie murmured, "It's the first time he's been able to watch that one through. I hope it wasn't too hard for you."

  Really, these people were too unbelievably well bred. What did Emily's feelings have to do with it? Lee Alden had just gone through a traumatic event, and they were worrying whether their guests were comfortable and happy. Emily shrugged helplessly. "Hildie, it hardly matters what I felt."

  Hildie gave her a quizzical look, which Emily returned with a tremulous smile. The trouble with the whole bunch was that they were too wound up in one another, she decided. This one-for-all and all-for-one business didn't leave a person any room to hide and sulk.

  "I'll go get another one," she whispered to Hildie. But in the hall she ran into Lee.

  "Hildie will do just fine on her own," he said. "Let's go outside." He led Emily through the kitchen door and out through the herb garden. The path, a layer of bark mulch, was too narrow to walk side by side, so they walked single file until they came to a wooden bench swing. Even by the dim glow of the path lights she could see that it was thick with generations of green paint. Emily took a seat on one side, and Lee stood facing the structure, setting the swing into gentle motion.

  "So. Now you know Nicole," he said quietly. "We played that volleyball game over Labor Day weekend. Then Hildie's camera went on the fritz . . . and the game ended up being the last thing we had of Nicole." He added quietly, "She didn't know she was pregnant then. Anyway . . ." He let the sentence trail off unfinished.

  "She was a beautiful woman," Emily said with feeling. "Did she play well?"

  He let out a sad little laugh. "She was pathetic; you saw the video."

  "No, I meant the piano."

  "Ah. Like an angel. She loved Chopin."

  And so it went, with Emily leading him step by halting step into a discussion of a woman whose memory she had every reason to fear. She learned that Mrs. Alden had been an early champion of Nicole and that Lee had resisted the match because, among other things, Nicole got deathly seasick on a boat and he could not bear to see her in pain. Eventually Nicole found adequate medication and learned to tolerate, if not enjoy, their outings on water. That was the thing that came through about Nicole: She insisted on trying everything that Lee did. Some things she liked; some she didn't. But she always made herself stick with them.

  A cultivated woman with spunk; it was an unbeatable combination. Emily was glad to see that Lee could talk so freely about his wife; it showed he was on the way out of his grief. But she was left with the same old feeling that Nicole had cleared some impossibly high standard that political families held their women to.

  "So how're you at volleyball?" Lee asked, almost echoing her thoughts.

  "I don't like it," she decided to admit. "I don't think I was meant to be a team player. I'm from New Hampshire, Lee. We're kind of independent. Ask anybody; communes fail there all the time."

  His laugh was low and easy. "I admire freethinkers. All right, then. Boats. Where do you stand on sailing?" he asked, not at all put off by her whimsical answer.

  "I do love sailing. But if I didn't," she added with a steady look, "I wouldn't put up with nausea just to please my man." She looked away, shocked by her own candor. It wasn't fair to the memory of Nicole. "I'm sorry," she said, rising from the seat. "That was out of line. Please --" She stood on the platform, holding the uprights, wanting to jump off.

  But he wrapped his hands around both of hers, pinning them to the uprights and stopping the swing. "It wasn't out of line. It was honest. Why do you try to run from that honesty?"

  She hesitated, like a deer before flight. "I suppose I don't think you're ready for it."

  "Your honesty is what I like best about you. Don't you see that yet?"

  She wanted to believe him, so she hesitated a moment longer. Should she be honest about Fergus? She tried to read Lee's face, so near to hers. No, obviously not. Lee believed that Fergus had been laid to rest. So to speak.

  "This is pointless," she said, frustrated by the impasse. She tried to break away, but Lee held her fast.

  "No! Stay. Let's have
this out. What is it about me that fills you with contempt, goddammit?" It was obvious from his angry bewilderment that he'd never had to ask the question before.

  "You mean, besides the power and the money?" she asked dryly. "Besides the fact that everything associated with you has a history or a pedigree or a filigree?"

  "Oh, I'm going to have to work my way up to that one," he said. "Where I come from, wealth and success aren't exactly character flaws. No, give me a simpler reason," he said acidly, "something I have a shot at understanding."

  She could give him Fergus, but that wouldn't help. She rummaged through her trunkful of reasons, picking out the most likely scrap to fit. "All right. Let's go back to Nicole. Since you ask." She lifted her chin in a dangerous way. "I don't approve of the way you made Nicole bend her will to yours."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Take sports, for example. If she wasn't any good at them, why not let her be? She could've kept score or read a book or raised pigeons. Why force her to be something she wasn't?"

  "I never forced Nicole," he said evenly.

  "The pressure must have been there. If not from you, then from all of you."

  Even in the dark, she could see that the remark stung. "Is that why you took so well to the kids today?" he asked. "Family pressure?"

  "No! I loved being with them," she said quickly. "That's different."

  "There's no difference. Nicole did what she did out of love, because she wanted to be with me. Or all of us, depending."

  "I don't believe it!" Emily said bluntly. "Why would she let herself look so bad?"

  "Hold it, time out!" Lee said, releasing her and shaping his forearms into a T. "Nicole never worried about looking bad. Never." For a moment he said nothing. And then: "Are we talking about Nicole -- or you?"

  Bull's-eye. She didn't realize it until he said it, but it was her own general insecurity she was pinning on Nicole. It had nothing to do with sports. Emily was afraid of not knowing the right people or having the right degree or belonging to the right clubs or wearing the right clothes or saying the right thing. The thought of accompanying Lee to a dinner party at the French Embassy, for example, filled her with terror.