Marisa’s turquoise wings had ceased to float her about the room. Indeed, she looked wilted as she came with them to the door. Denis said good-bye and went toward his car, but Marisa held Kelsey back for a moment.
“The ugly fact is that Francesca meant to blackmail Tyler with something she learned from Olga. If he knows what it was, then it no longer matters. If she didn’t get around to telling him, then perhaps it does. Perhaps Francesca died because of her own vicious instincts.”
“Can’t we let it be forgotten?” Kelsey asked. “No matter what Dora might have been mixed up in years ago, shouldn’t we leave it alone? There’s enough trouble for all of them as it is.”
“Not if you want Jody to get well,” Marisa said. “I have such a strong feeling about this that it frightens me a little.” She kissed Kelsey lightly on the cheek, gave her a slight push toward Denis’s car, and then went inside, closing her redwood door firmly.
The sound seemed both warning and dismissal. Thoroughly upset, Kelsey went down the steps and got into the front seat beside Denis.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Kelsey said. She couldn’t repeat Marisa’s words to Denis. It might be more useful to toss the tape into one of those restless seas as they made their way back to Carmel. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to commit it to the water.
Since the hour was early, Kelsey and Denis found the small, charming restaurant in Carmel nearly empty. Denis asked for a table near a window, where they could watch the street and talk quietly. At first, however, he had little to say. He scanned the menu, ordered for them both without much interest, and lost himself in what were obviously gloomy thoughts.
Kelsey tried a question. “Listening to the tape has upset you, hasn’t it? What does it mean, Denis?”
Over steaming onion soup he finally began to talk, but his words took an unexpected direction. Instead of discussing the interview, he told her more about Dora.
“I’ve seen pictures of my mother when she was young and she was very pretty. I think in his way even the General fell in love with her. Of course he wanted a suitable wife, children—a son. That would come first. She must have been quite a spirited girl in those days. It’s strange about some men. They see what they want in a woman, but they don’t want her to have the same attraction for other men so they stamp out the very qualities that drew them in the first place. Though the General never quite stamped them out of Dora. I’m afraid she learned to dissemble, to give him what he wanted, whether it was based on a lie or not—so long as she could keep something for herself and her children.”
All this was part of the larger picture that Kelsey needed to understand, and she listened intently. Dora, the General, even Denis himself, were part of the past that had created Ruth, and now affected Tyler so strongly that he seemed at times a haunted man. Jody’s recovery, as Marisa had pointed out, might hang in the precarious balance because of all that had gone before. The tape might offer a clue to this, yet somehow she was afraid of it.
After a moment of staring gloomily out at the street, Denis picked up his story again.
“By the time I was ten, I knew how strong Dora could be. If you can call it strength. Relentless is more like it. All that waffling she does is an act. I remember the times when she stood between me and the General, while not seeming to do so at all. I don’t mean that she ever loved me as much as she did Ruth. I knew when I was very young that it was always Ruth who must come first. My sister came first with me too then, so I could accept that. Though these days I sometimes don’t even like Ruth the way she is now. Dora has never changed toward her at all. She’s ready to fight Tyler for her, and I think she’d even sacrifice Jody if it would spare Ruth. Of course ‘Dora’ is the wrong name for her. It’s a mousy, meek sort of name. When I was around twelve, I used to play a game. I’d pick out names I thought would suit her better.”
He smiled at himself, remembering. His childhood couldn’t have been happy, Kelsey thought, yet, remarkably enough, Denis seemed to have come through with an affection for his mother, and without blaming her because she put his sister first.
“What names did you give her?” she asked.
“Oh, I tried some pretty fancy stuff at first: Alexandra, Bernadette, Yolanda—romantic names of heroines. But she wasn’t any of those, and I wound up calling her Judith. That seemed to be a strong name that suited what she was like a lot better than Dora.”
“Did she know you called her that?”
“I told her once, and she laughed and said I’d better not tell my father. He wanted a Dora. It’s strange about names, isn’t it? Start thinking about her as Judith and you’re likely to see a different person.”
“Your name seems right, Denis.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. What does it mean to you?”
“It’s a name for a gentle man, a kind and considerate man.”
“I’m not any of those things. I expect my father was right about me a lot of the time. He thought I was weak because I believe in people too easily. Or used to. And I’m too easily influenced. Maybe I like to please the person I’m with—a sort of chameleon. You’re lucky, Kelsey. You have a name that’s unusual, so no one can hand you preconceived character traits. You’re a Kelsey—and that’s it. A Kelsey, as far as I’m concerned, is someone who says what she thinks, who won’t give up, and has enough imagination to pull her through all sorts of difficulties. Most of all, she’s compassionate.”
A waitress brought their broiled steaks, and Kelsey considered Denis’s words in surprise, a little embarrassed. She hadn’t realized that he’d been summing her up so carefully. But he wasn’t altogether right, even if she’d like to accept some of what he’d said. He’d missed her foolish impulsiveness, her ability to dig unnecessary pits and then fall into them so that she had to fight to scramble out. And he’d missed her present confusion. Compassion wasn’t enough, when she couldn’t be sure what was wrong to begin with.
What had been said on the tape must still be worrying him, for he turned again to the subject of Dora. “Tell me what you think of my mother, Kelsey.”
She tried to answer carefully. “I don’t really know her. Sometimes she watches me. I mean literally—from windows. I think she’s afraid I might actually hurt Ruth in some way.”
“Maybe she’s right.”
“What do you mean? You know I’ve only tried to help.”
Denis looked thoughtful, a little sad. “Will it help if you fall in love with Tyler? Ruth believes that’s what’s happening to you.”
She hated the warmth in her cheeks, betraying her. “That’s absurd! Tyler’s only interest in me is because of what I might do for Jody.”
“Ruth doesn’t think he is interested in you, Kelsey. It’s the other way around. I’m sorry—don’t be upset if I say that. Just be on guard. He’s a tremendously attractive man physically—sexually. And he’s mentally stimulating and exciting to women. When he chooses to be. They’ve always responded to him, and Ruth knows that. She also knows that his fancies have been passing ones. It doesn’t help much that she can see through him, now that it’s too late.”
Over her own impatience with herself, Kelsey had to rush in to denial. “I don’t even like Tyler’s type of man! He’s overbearing, inconsiderate, locked into his own ego, and—”
“I’m sorry you’ve fallen so hard for him, Kelsey.”
She choked and closed her eyes against the wave of angry pain that enveloped her.
Denis took her hand across the table. “Don’t look like that, Kelsey. I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s why I’ve had to speak frankly.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She pulled her hand back. “I haven’t any intention of getting hurt.”
“That’s fine, Kelsey. Hold on to that—if you can.”
She wasn’t at all sure she could and she stopped protesting.
“In the long run it’s hard to hold on to anything,” Denis said. “Maybe it doe
sn’t matter whether it’s love or hate—it all adds up to indifference in the end.”
This, at least, she wouldn’t accept. “Must I add the word ‘cynical’ to my list for you, Denis? Do you really believe that?”
He didn’t answer directly. “Sometimes I wish that Ginnie and I had married years ago. Though I’m not sure it would have been right for either of us. I expect she’ll be happier with her present plans. I’ve met Billy Yang, and I think he’ll be good for her.”
“Why didn’t you two marry?” Kelsey said, glad of any side road.
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I think Tyler broke it up. At least that’s what Ruth believed. Maybe he had a thing for Ginnie in those days himself, so that after a while Ginnie and I just moved apart. Of course when Ruth went after Tyler, he didn’t stand a chance. My sister is a fascinating woman, and maybe he met his match. You’ve never seen her the way she used to be, Kelsey. Anyway, it was all a mess, with slightly splintered hearts all over the place. Ginnie went north, and I started a torrid affair with a minor movie actress. All silly and futile. And all past history. Next question?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I care about what happened to all of you.”
“It’s okay.” He grinned at her ruefully. “Anyway, I know the next question: ‘Isn’t there someone now?’”
“It’s none of my business,” she said, and knew she sounded stiff.
“Perhaps we’ve become your business—because of Jody, Kelsey. What did Marisa say to you a little while ago when you were leaving?”
She could tell him now, since they’d seemed to arrive at a more open friendship—though perhaps a franker, more painful friendship than before.
“She said something strange. She said that if I wanted Jody to get well, I should give the interview tape to Tyler. Then he would probably go to Nepenthe and talk to that Russian fortune-teller. He would ask her why your mother went there on that date. I don’t understand the connection with Jody, and it seems reaching pretty far.”
Denis’s expression had darkened. “What’s the point of digging up something that happened so long ago? Jody wasn’t even born then. I don’t want to see my mother tormented anymore. She’s had a harder life than any of us, and she’s always given herself too much to others. If you follow through with the tape it will only bring back an unpleasant time in her life. Marisa’s advice isn’t always sensible.”
Yet it was Denis who had called Marisa a “wise woman.”
“I won’t do it right away. I’m still going to think about it first.” She couldn’t promise more than that, being too uncertain herself.
Denis had lost his appetite, and Kelsey was no longer hungry either. While they waited for the check, she asked one more question.
“Denis, do you know why your mother went to Nepenthe that time?”
It was the wrong question. He looked at her despairingly and didn’t answer. The more open friendship she thought they’d reached had its boundaries, of course. How little one ever really knew about other people. Summings-up were superficial, touching only upper levels, with so much more hidden underneath than one could penetrate.
At least, she thought, as they walked a block or two to where he’d left his car, Denis had made her aware of her own self-deception. There were emotions that she hadn’t been willing to face or probe in herself, and she wasn’t sure she could face them now. To let down her instinctive guard and admit that she was in love with Tyler Hammond—that could be devastating. Yet it might be the first step toward facing the problem of what she must do about it.
When they’d driven back to the Highlands, she put her hand on Denis’s arm before she left the car.
“Thank you. I’m grateful for the things you said, and I really mean that.”
His own guard was still up. “I enjoyed it,” he said lightly. “I’ll see you soon.”
At the top of the steps she stood for a moment looking down upon red tiles and blue walls, hearing Denis as he drove away.
When she went inside she was sharply conscious of Marisa’s tape in her purse. She wished she could destroy it without another thought—be rid of it. But she knew she must wait and avoid another of those treacherous pits into which she could so easily tumble. Too many mistakes lay behind her, beginning with her marriage. Strange—there were times when Carl’s face seemed indistinct in her memory. The face of a stranger she’d known long ago. But every hair of Mark’s head, every expression of his face or movement of his sturdy little body was there to be vividly recalled, and there was no healing for her yet.
When she reached Jody’s room, she found a night nurse with him, and she sat by his bed for an hour or so. He seemed to have recovered from his earlier upset, and she wondered how much he was able to remember of anything that happened to him. Or of anything that was said, no matter how much it disturbed him at the time. There were different layers of memory, and until he could talk it was impossible to gauge how much he’d forgotten of old happenings, or even of how long he might hold on to the new. Any talk of Point Lobos could upset him, so there must be something remembered there.
The days that followed were pleasantly uneventful, except for a slow but noticeable improvement in Jody. Dr. Norman came again to see how he was tolerating the treatment, and was pleased with his progress. No drugs were being used, but only the nutritional help she’d prescribed, and she felt that everything would move faster now as his own body worked toward healing.
For those who are ill good food is vital—something most hospitals still have to learn—but at this stage Jody needed so much more than food alone could provide. By this time he was beginning to take mouthfuls from a spoon, learning to chew again, and the vitamins had obviously increased his appetite, which was one of their functions.
Dr. Norman’s positive and encouraging presence was in itself helpful, not only to Jody, who seemed to like her, but for those who worked with him as well. She had never needed to take “classes” in compassion. It was there in her eyes, in her warm smile, and always in her voice and reassuring words.
With each new step, Kelsey or Ginnie explained to Jody exactly what was about to happen. He seemed willing to accept what they wanted to do more readily now, no longer lost in a limbo where he couldn’t reach out, and where those around him didn’t realize they could reach in. Communication, though still elementary, had begun.
The woman acupuncturist visited every few days, and while Jody made faces, he was now willing to tolerate a little discomfort. The real pain he had suffered in the beginning had lessened a great deal, so he accepted needles that were placed at certain points to help relieve his spasticity. The treatment was still new for this purpose, but Dr. Norman welcomed everything that showed promise, providing it would do no harm. Massage treatments were introduced as well, and this seemed to help Jody’s muscles to relax. Since there appeared to be real progress, everyone felt heartened.
Kelsey began several new exercises with him, both mental and physical. One of them was to help him learn to count out loud again. In a way, it was like teaching a small child from the beginning, though it was clear right away that his brain still knew how to count.
She sat close to him and made sure she had his attention. “Jody, I’d like you to think about the steps that go up outside the Hawk Tower at Tor House. You’ve climbed them lots of times, and I’ll bet you know how many there are. So now you’re going to tell me. Start up those steps in your mind, Jody. That’s always the beginning of doing anything. First we imagine ourselves doing it, and then we can make it real. You’re getting ready now for the time when you’ll stand alone, and then take steps. You’ll really climb the Tower again one of these days. Just take one step and then another in your mind, Jody, and count them for me. Let me hear you begin.”
He understood and made an effort. He managed six steps up the tower, each a somewhat tortured effort, with sounds that might approximate the numbers. When he tired and stopped trying, Kelsey hugged him.
“That wa
s very good, Jody. You don’t have to climb the whole tower right away.”
Now and then Tyler stopped in, and Kelsey felt an increasing awkwardness with him. Since having dinner with Denis, she’d tried to face her own feelings honestly. She cared too much about Tyler, and she knew that this must be hidden—not from herself, but from him and those around him. This wasn’t easy to do because of her own awareness. Even the way his hair grew at the nape of his neck, the way his fingers touched Jody, smoothing his cheek, ruffling his hair—these were shivery to watch. Shivery in all the wrong ways. She’d been too long without a man in her life, and she had to be careful lest her own emotions lead her where she dare not go.
She still hadn’t given him the tape. More and more she doubted Marisa’s judgment on this, and held back. Once Tyler heard it, he might be reminded of something better forgotten, and he could very well choose a course that would lead to further trouble. So she waited, postponing, equivocating, marking time. She wasn’t being dishonest now, but simply unwilling to decide about something so important. Perhaps she was even waiting for some sign that would help her to do what was right and wise.
These days, Ginnie hummed a lot as she worked around Jody, and he seemed to enjoy her cheerful presence. “I do think he’s getting better,” she said to Kelsey one morning. “He’s stronger, more alert. Of course nothing can happen quickly, but I have a feeling now that he really will improve. He’s so much further along than doctors ever thought he would come. One thing’s for sure—he’s no vegetable!”
Several times Tyler brought his video camera to Jody’s room so that the record of small day-to-day changes could be caught, and even Tyler was less gloomy now.
His shoulders were straighter, as though the will to deal with whatever troubled him had returned, and his step seemed lighter. He even joked with Jody now and then. This didn’t mean that the torment Kelsey had sensed in him had vanished completely. Always, underlying whatever he did, there seemed a deep anguish that he could submerge, but not entirely deal with.
Flaming Tree Page 22
