The Stone Bull

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  “That’s better,” Magnus said with authority. “You’re looking more human now. So if you want to talk I’ll listen.”

  “Did you know Ariel was going to have a baby?” I asked.

  His great head moved in assent. “Yes. She told me before she left. It would have been mine. Perhaps another son, or even a daughter. I’d have liked that. Floris wouldn’t have another baby after our son died, so I’d given up hope of children. I watched the papers for any word of her pregnancy, but there was nothing.”

  For the first time I thought of Magnus, who must have suffered too in silence, holding back his pain. Always wondering, with no one to ask. Now I had to tell him.

  “There was nothing in the papers because my mother helped her to get rid of the baby. Perhaps it was more my mother’s fault than Ariel’s.”

  “Ariel wasn’t intended to have children. She was meant to be a dancer. Only a dancer.”

  “Yes. Brendon doesn’t understand that. Naomi told me that she left him because she didn’t want marriage and he did. Naomi told me about the baby and said it was his.”

  “Naomi builds her own fantasies. It was the other way around. Perhaps it was the fact that he never recognized her as a dancer that drew her to him. He saw something in her apart from her dancing, and that pleased her. Perhaps it made her real to herself for the first time.”

  “Then he saw something that wasn’t there,” I said dully.

  “Perhaps it was what she wanted to be.” Magnus’ tone was gentle.

  I drank the last of the cider and set the mug aside. “I’ve just begun to face the truth about Brendon. He will never get over loving Ariel. He will never love anyone else.”

  “I doubt that’s true,” Magnus said. “Perhaps, when he’s had enough time to heal a little, he’ll do the only wise thing. He’ll look for someone who doesn’t remind him of her in any possible way. Someone who will also marry Laurel.”

  I knew why I had come to Magnus. If Brendon was part of a mirage, Magnus was reality. He might live in a world of marble and granite, but it was a real world where he could accept human beings for what they were—not merely for what he wanted them to be.

  “One of the things that hurts me now,” I said, “is the reason why Ariel died. I think she really cared about Brendon. She must have felt torn because she couldn’t any longer be a dancer happily without him, and yet she knew she couldn’t give up her dancing as he would have wanted. She must have understood that Laurel would always come first with him.”

  “You’ve worked it out pretty well,” Magnus said.

  “But then—why did she come here to you? How could she come to another man if she loved Brendon?”

  “She came because she thought she could win him over. I don’t think she’d ever been rejected before. I was only an instrument. A willing one. She mattered to me the way she was. And she trusted me. I didn’t make any bargains with her. There were no terms between us. She needed to be comforted and I could give her that little at least. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

  He had turned his great red head away to stare into the fire, and I watched him with a lump in my throat. How tangled everything was, yet I would see Magnus standing like a rock through it all—a little like his own stone bull out there in the rain. I liked him a lot, and I was glad that he had given Ariel the comfort of his love. But there was no way I could tell him how I felt just then, how grateful I too was for his rough kindness.

  After a moment he turned his head and looked at me, and that wide grin appeared in the red beard.

  “No matter how he feels, Brendon wouldn’t be pleased to find you here.” He sounded a little pleased himself—almost triumphant.

  I smiled back at him. “You don’t disguise your motives, do you, Magnus?”

  “Never. When they’re small, they’re petty, and I enjoy them.”

  Somehow we were laughing together and I felt enormously better. But when he would have brought me a second mug of cider, I shook my head.

  “No more. I’m warm now. In a little while I’ll go back to the hotel.”

  “Why did you come?”

  The point-blank question left me a little shocked by my own actions, now that I’d stopped to consider them. Without thought, without any real purpose, I’d gone rushing off into the rain, somehow sure that I would find answers to all my pain and confusion here with Magnus. Answers that went back to Ariel. And perhaps I had—though without ever asking the questions I thought I’d come to ask.

  “I suppose I came to find—me,” I said. “I’m not sure how you’ve done it, but I think I can pull myself together now and start figuring out what to do next. Thank you, Magnus.”

  “What you do next is to go back to New York,” he said. “There’s nothing more for you to do here.”

  “Of course there is. You must finish your sculpture, for one thing. My one chance at immortality! And there’s still the matter of Floris’ death and the suspicions about Ariel. Now that I know how it was with her, I feel all the more strongly about that, and I don’t trust Loring.”

  He shook his head, scowling at me, but he didn’t frighten me anymore, and he didn’t try further to persuade me.

  “How are you going to get back to the hotel?” he asked.

  “Walk, I suppose. That’s the way I came up.”

  “And freeze in the rain all over again. To say nothing of running around alone in the woods, as you’ve been forbidden to do. No—I’ll arrange something. Just sit tight and I’ll give Dad a call. If he’s around he can pick you up.”

  I couldn’t argue with that and I waited while Magnus called the hotel and left a message to be sent out on the intercom to the truck, wherever it was.

  “It may be a little while,” he said as he put down the phone. “Come back to the fire, Jenny.”

  He drew me to the cushions I’d left, his hands unaccustomedly gentle, as though I were a child who must not be frightened. With the rosy warmth on my face and hands, I looked up at all the breadth and height of him where he leaned against the chimney. When I spoke, it was like that child he allowed me, in my need, to be.

  “It all hurts so much,” I said. “Everything hurts terribly.”

  “A common state of man. But hurting can also stop. Eventually. There’s always the antidote of time, if we give it a chance. The old cliché holds because it’s true.”

  “If only I’d never walked into that theater lobby! If only I’d never come to Brendon’s notice!”

  “Then you would have missed something, wouldn’t you? Just as I would have missed something if Ariel hadn’t come here.”

  “What about Floris?” I asked. “What about the thing you and Ariel did to her?”

  His tone hardened. “That was done by Floris to herself long ago. Though I’m not without blame. It was done when my son died because of her indifference.”

  “Indifference?” I repeated, startled.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Let it go. I even tried to forgive her and she stayed on, though she hated me for her own blame. I owed her nothing.”

  In the long silence I sighed heavily. He heard the sound and pulled his hassock closer to me, taking my hands in his.

  “Very few humans love only one person and hold that love forever, Jenny. Most people grow, and change, and if two people don’t move in the same direction and change together, love between them gets lost. But it’s always unique while it lasts and you’ve had something that might otherwise have been missed. I’m not talking about casual affairs. There’s more to life than only one loving. It will come again—with someone else.”

  “I don’t want it with anyone else!” I cried.

  “Sometimes you are such an innocent. Ariel never was a child. She knew what she wanted—sometimes mistakenly, but with her eyes open.”

  “She loved him,” I said, choking on the words. “And he did let her down. He threw her away because he loved Laurel best!”

  “No. He made a choice for both of th
em. Brendon isn’t an innocent either.”

  “She killed herself because of him.”

  He shook his head at me gently, contradicting. “She was losing confidence in herself as a dancer. She was afraid of having a baby because it might destroy her career. For the first time she couldn’t keep a man she reached for until she was ready to discard him. She was afraid of growing old. More than anything else she wanted the comfort of an absolute adulation, and that isn’t to be had in life. Except perhaps on a stage. And then only for a few moments at a time while the applause rings in your ears. She had it there and it gave her an insatiable appetite for something that doesn’t otherwise exist.”

  “But she took those pills.”

  “If you want to know what I think, she only intended to cause concern and fright in those who loved her. Perhaps she wanted to punish Brendon. She wanted you all to come flocking around her so she could believe that she was alive and real and much loved. I don’t for one minute believe that in spite of her torments she ever meant to kill herself. If you and her mother and Brendon—perhaps even I—had all run to her and groveled at her pretty feet, she would have drawn sustenance from us, and come back very soon to triumph again. I don’t think she died by her own choice, but it was certainly by her own blame, and no one else’s.”

  Magnus was a man to be believed and I drew from his strength and managed to smile at him tremulously.

  “Thank you,” I said, as I had said to him before.

  He leaned forward and tilted my head with one big finger. Then he bent and kissed me lightly on the lips. I felt the brush of his beard and I didn’t move.

  “You’re every bit as special as Ariel, but in a different way. A way all your own. Just don’t forget that. Only now you must become the woman you haven’t really tried to be before.”

  Tears started in my eyes and when they spilled he nodded his approval. “Go ahead and cry. Tears can wash everything away. Do you know what I did when I learned of Ariel’s death? I went out in the woods and sat on the grass beside my stone bull, and I think we both wept. For something magical that would never touch our lives again.”

  Strangely, I didn’t mind his words because for the first time in my life I had stopped trying to compare myself with Ariel, and I too had known that magic he meant. He had given me back my sister in a new way.

  Outside in the storm we heard the sound of a truck coming up the trail and I brushed my tears away hurriedly. Magnus brought my borrowed slicker and helped me into it.

  “Take care,” he said. It was like a caress—and a warning.

  The door banged open with no advance knock, and Naomi McClain burst into the room. A bright yellow scarf was tied under her chin, a yellow oilcloth slicker engulfed her small body and there were boots on her feet. She was only a little wet in her rush from the truck.

  “I’ve come for you,” she told me abruptly. “I was at the desk when you called, but Keir is miles away, so I said I’d borrow the ranger’s truck and come after you. Everyone’s mad today anyway—completely insane!—so I suppose your rushing off up here in the storm is more of the same.”

  Magnus smiled at me over her head, and I found myself smiling back; smiling warmly, as I hadn’t been able to do in a long time. Naomi was in a hurry and shrugged aside the offer of mulled cider, pulled me out the door, her arm linked in mine as we hurried down the steps to the idling truck. I saw again the emblem of the panther—wild and beautiful—and knew how well it stood for Laurel. When I’d climbed into the cab and she’d put the truck into gear, I looked back at Magnus, standing in the open door against the fire glow of his cabin, watching as we drove away. Something had happened to me, though I didn’t know quite what it was. Something healing had begun. Magnus was good medicine.

  Naomi chattered all the way back to the hotel, her state one of aggravated excitement.

  “Brendon’s stalking around as though he was cracking up. What on earth did you do to him? No—never mind—I don’t want to know. It’s Irene and Loring who have really gone crazy. The mouse is roaring. They’re having a bang-up fight and I want to get back there before it’s over.”

  “What are they fighting about?” I asked in surprise.

  “Everything! Laurel Mountain and Loring’s plans. Floris and how she died. I think Loring’s threatening them if they won’t go his way. It’s all pretty wild.”

  “Threatening them—how?”

  “Oh, with his theories about the rock that fell. Those pictures. It could be pretty ugly if he went to the police now with all that.”

  “But he doesn’t want a scandal for Laurel any more than anyone else. Surely he wouldn’t—”

  “You’re right,” Naomi said flatly. “He won’t.”

  She sounded thoroughly keyed up, and I stole a look at her sharp, tense profile, with the bony thrust of her nose poked toward the windshield where the wipers zipped back and forth.

  In the hotel driveway, she parked the truck out of the way, shoved me from the cab and jumped down. In a moment she had me by the arm and was rushing me inside.

  “Come along!” she cried. “We must see this.”

  We didn’t bother with an elevator, but took the stairs to the second floor with furious speed. Bcause of the rainy weekend, what guests there were were all about, occupying the little Victorian sitting rooms, one of them picking out tunes at the piano, others in the game room, engaged in bridge. Naomi rushed past them all, dragging me behind her. The door to the McClains’ private parlor was closed, but she thrust it open with as little ceremony as she’d used at Magnus’ cabin.

  The fight was over, however. Irene sat alone upon a plush sofa, staring at nothing, and a small welt was rising visibly on her cheek. She looked at us without surprise.

  “He slapped me,” she said dully. “Loring slapped me. Bruce would never have done a thing like that.”

  “Loring’s an oaf, and it’s time you found it out,” Naomi snapped. “He’s heading for trouble—that one. Does Brendon know about this?”

  For the first time life showed in Irene’s eyes. “No! You mustn’t tell him. He left before it happened. He’d be horribly angry. He wouldn’t stand for this.”

  I leaned awkwardly against the closed door, wishing myself away, but unable to leave gracefully. Naomi was hopping around the room, chirping like an indignant sparrow. Loring’s downfall was apparently something she would relish.

  “What are you going to do?” she demanded after a third journey around the room.

  Irene looked strangely calm and controlled—emotionless. “I shall leave him, of course. I shall divorce him,” she said quietly.

  “Hah!” Naomi cried. “He’ll never stand by for that. He didn’t marry you—he married Laurel Mountain and everything it stands for.”

  “Don’t,” I whispered to Naomi. “Don’t hurt her.”

  Irene heard and answered quietly. “I’m through being hurt. I’ve been trying so hard to make things work, trying not to displease him, afraid of having him angry with me. But when he struck me everything stopped. I don’t need him anymore.”

  Just as everything had stopped for me, I thought, when Brendon threw Ariel’s slipper into the fire, and I faced the truth for the first time.

  I left my post at the door and went to bend over Irene. “Is there something I can do? Would you like to go back to the house? Naomi has a truck outside, so she could drive us there. Would you like me to stay with you for a little while?”

  She looked at me as though for a moment she didn’t remember who I was. Then she smiled and nodded wordlessly, took my hand and let me pull her to her feet. Naomi hopped along behind us down the hall to the elevators, and Irene managed to bow with her usual friendliness to guests who greeted her. I suppose our curious little parade didn’t really look curious to the casual eye.

  This time we took the elevator down one floor, and Irene began to lean on my arm more heavily as we walked past the desk and outside. Keir Devin was coming up the steps, and he stared at Ir
ene. But her hand was up to her cheek, concealing, and she gave him a quick, tremulous smile.

  He blocked our way to speak to me. “I thought you needed a lift down the mountain, Jenny?”

  “I’m sorry if they called you back,” I apologized. “Someone should have told you it was all right. Naomi came up to get me.”

  He nodded curtly and went past us to the desk. He hadn’t seen the welt on Irene’s cheek, and she didn’t take her hand away until we were in the front seat of the truck. As we left the driveway, one nasty moment came when we saw Loring walking bareheaded ahead of us in the rain.

  “Shall I run him down?” Naomi asked gleefully, and Irene, sitting between us, gave her arm a slap.

  “Don’t talk like that. And stay away from him. He doesn’t play games. He’s dangerous.”

  With deliberate intent, Naomi drove through a puddle, throwing water out from the wheels, and I saw Loring jump to the side of the road. When I looked back I knew he was cursing us. Brendon had to know about this unhappy development, and as soon as possible. Yet even as the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I would have no angry feelings about seeing Brendon again. Something had really ended, and I was beginning to accept it. Perhaps in the long reaches of the night I would remember my love. Perhaps it would strike through to me at odd moments during the day when some reminder stabbed me, but recognition that it was over helped to some degree.

  At the house we spilled out of the truck again. No chambermaid was about and we went into the living room to sit down, as though a certain formality was necessary.

  It was the first time I had been in this room and I looked about in appreciation. The room was, I suspected, Irene’s achievement. The walls were white, and a wheat-colored sofa stood in the bay window, with the dark green of Norway pines beyond. Two jewel-toned Moroccan rugs covered the polished floorboards—rugs of dark garnet and deep ruby, with touches of topaz, warm and glowing. Tall bookcases painted eggshell had been built into the walls, and again the fireplace was white marble, with tall brass candlesticks branching at either end. A painting of lake and mountain hung above the mantel, High Tower dominating the scene.