Belonging

by Nancy Thayer

  “Oh, John,” Tory said softly, putting her hand on his knee as if to gently restrain him.

  But he persevered, “This island is headed for trouble. No matter how much you romanticize the relationship between population and territory, the facts are that the people are continuing the process they began two hundred years ago of destroying the island environment.”

  “Well, that’s a little strong,” Morris protested.

  “Excuse me,” Madaket said from the doorway. “If you could continue your discussion in the dining room, dinner is ready.”

  Everyone rose and passed through the hallway and into the room Madaket had made especially beautiful for the evening. The long mahogany table was decorated with autumn leaves, berries, and nuts in a brass bowl, and tall orange tapers burned on the table and fireplace mantel and sideboard, bathing the room in a gentle, generous light. The wine Madaket poured into the crystal glasses looked like light turned liquid. A heated conversation continued as Madaket brought out creamy clam chowder, and poached salmon with fresh berry chutney, and a salad of her own lettuces. The dessert was a triumph: Indian pudding baked in a pumpkin, served with cinnamon whipped cream.

  Madaket and Todd both served, and poured the red or white wines and the dessert champagne. As the evening deepened, Joanna leaned back in her chair and simply watched and listened. Outside, the wind was rising, weaving around the house in arabesques, singing against the corners of the house. Occasionally the candle flames flared sideways, as if blown by an invisible gust. The room smelled of salt air, pumpkin, cinnamon, and coffee. The cheeks of her guests were hollowed deeply in the candlelight, and the liquid of their eyes glowed against the pallor of their skin. Todd and Madaket were the most in shadow, and as they came near to serve and faded away into the darkness, Joanna saw how Madaket looked at Todd. Everything was there at once: the need, the passion, the adoration, the sexual craving—so painfully strong that Joanna had to look away. She had loved Carter in just that way. She put her hands on her stomach. Well, and she was glad.

  She drank no alcohol, but by the end of the evening, it seemed as if she had. Her vision blurred at the edges, and a slight headache tightened itself across her forehead, pushing in at her temples. It was all she could do to make her way across the hall into the living room, where her guests gathered for after-dinner brandies and more conversation. Supported by the arms of the wing chair, she sat nodding and smiling vaguely at everyone, too exhausted to keep track of what was actually being said. She thought her guests would never leave. When finally they did, Madaket helped her up the stairs and into bed.

  “Todd and I are going to clean up, but we’ll work quietly,” Madaket said.

  “You could hold a dance and I wouldn’t know,” Joanna groaned, sliding gratefully between the covers.

  She fell asleep at once. Her sleep was deep and matted and dreamless and suddenly she awoke, racked with thirst. The night was black, the house dark and quiet. She wanted more than water, she needed juice, orange juice, gallons of it. Slipping out of bed, she padded across her bedroom and out into the hall, the floor pleasantly cool to the soles of her feet. It seemed simply too long a detour to walk all the way to the front of the hall and down the wide front staircase, and so, holding on tightly to the railing, she began to descend the steep back staircase directly to the kitchen.

  Voices stopped her. Madaket. Todd.

  She started to push the door open to the kitchen, but then the blurred music of their talk clarified into words.

  “What would you do if you suddenly had the money?” Todd asked.

  Madaket answered at once. “Buy a piece of land and build a house.”

  “Me, too.” Todd sounded young and less cynical than usual. “It’s not impossible. That we’d find treasure here. Think of the Andrea Doria. Can I have another beer?”

  “Sure.” The refrigerator door was opened and closed. “Here.”

  “Thanks. Look, Abraham Farthingale said there was treasure in this house. No one’s ever found it. Dad and I have checked every wall or floor of this house and found nothing strange. It’s got to be down in the cellar.”

  “Yes, but even if we do find anything else, it won’t be ours, Todd.”

  “Come on, Madaket. Joanna’s generous. Hell, she should be. She’s rich. I bet she’d let us have some part of it, just a little part. That’s all we’d need.” Todd lowered his voice. “Besides, if we do find more jewels lying down there, what’s to stop us from slipping one or two into our pockets?”

  “Todd, that would be stealing.”

  “From whom? Joanna? Why should she get it all, she already has more than she needs. If it’s there in the sand, it should belong to whoever finds it.”

  Joanna heard movements, chairs creaking, clothing shifting. Now Todd was almost whispering. Joanna had to strain to hear. She wished the door were a one-way mirror.

  “We could change our lives.”

  “I won’t steal from Joanna.”

  “Madaket, get off it. You’re just the freaking hired help here, even if you do call her Joanna instead of Miss Jones. Just because you live here, that only makes you the live-in housekeeper. You know how the summer people are.” Todd minced in a falsetto: “I’ve just got to have a live-in. Any other kind of help is just too unreliable!”

  “Joanna’s not like that.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. She’s not going to give you anything more than your pay. What’s happened with the rubies we found? She hasn’t mentioned them. We go down in the sand, getting all dirty, working at night. Whose island is this anyway? Hers, just because she came along and wrote a check?”

  “I don’t know why the devil is always depicted with dark hair and eyes, Todd Snow.” Madaket’s voice was fondly scolding.

  “Madaket. You’re so beautiful.”

  “Todd. Don’t.”

  “Madaket. Get real. It’s you and me, against the rest of them. Think about it. You know I’m right.”

  “Todd—”

  “Your skin is so smooth.”

  “Don’t, Todd.”

  “I could make you happy, Madaket. I could love you.”

  A long silence pulled at Joanna’s senses. Then, whispers, whimpers, low sounds with only one interpretation. Then a scuffle.

  “Go home, Todd. I’m going to bed.”

  “Let me come with you.”

  “No.”

  Madaket’s voice came near the door to the back stairs, and Joanna, wanting not to be caught eavesdropping, pushed herself up and awkwardly hurried back up to the second floor. She paused at the top, heart thudding. She heard Todd say, “Madaket. Just think about what I said. At least think about me.”

  Joanna couldn’t hear Madaket’s reply.

  Nearly running, Joanna reached her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed. She simply sat for a while, letting her heart slow down, catching her breath. She was still thirsty. She drank the entire glass of water from her bedside table, then lay down on her side and, wrapping her arms protectively around her babies, stared out into the darkened room. After a long time she heard the light whispering of Madaket’s feet as she climbed the stairs from the first floor and then went on up into the attic. Still later, she heard Madaket hurry on tiptoe down the stairs and out into the waiting night.

  Nineteen

  When Joanna awoke the next morning, it was after eleven. She had a persistent, heavy headache, and she felt swollen all over, her bones like twigs encased in numbed cushions of flesh.

  Madaket peered in the open door.

  “You’re awake!” She approached Joanna’s bed. “Would you like some coffee? Or juice?”

  “Please. I feel terrible.”

  Madaket went off and came back a short while later with a breakfast tray. Joanna had managed to get to the bathroom and even to brush her teeth, but changing from her wrinkled gown was impossible.

  “Drink this,” Madaket said. “It will help.” While Joanna obeyed, she said, “I went into town this morning and took
Justin to the airport. He said to tell you goodbye and to thank you for the party.”

  “The dinner was great, Madaket. Thanks.”

  Madaket peered at Joanna. “You really don’t feel well, do you?”

  “I had trouble sleeping last night.”

  “Did I wake you up when I went out?” Madaket looked worried.

  “No,” Joanna lied.

  “I try to be quiet. I love being outside at night, especially this time of year. The air is like crystal.”

  “I don’t think I’ll get up today. I think I’ll try to sleep.”

  “Good. First you really should drink this orange juice. Gardner said—”

  “I know what Gardner said!” Joanna snapped, and feeling churlish and at the same time saintly for repressing the anger which was welling up inside her, she grabbed up the glass of juice and drank it so rapidly some spilled down her chin and onto her gown.

  “Let me help you change gowns,” Madaket offered, and leaned forward, but Joanna waved her away.

  “Never mind. I can sleep in a soiled gown. What does it matter?” She closed her eyes and lay back against her pillows.

  Madaket took the tray and went away. A short while later she quietly returned, and Joanna could hear the ice tinkling in the pitcher Madaket set on the table next to her, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  All day long, Joanna drowsed on and off, trying to rid herself of an incessant, heavy headache. She felt anxious and unhappy, and couldn’t seem to separate her emotions from her physical discomforts. Vaguely she heard the Snowmen working down in the sunroom. Gnawing, staccato pains of hunger began to counterpoint the deeper black pooling drum of nausea.

  “Joanna?”

  “Mmm?” She opened her eyes to find Madaket kneeling next to the bed. “What time is it?”

  “About three o’clock.”

  Wolf was right beside Madaket, trembling and whimpering. Joanna pushed up onto her elbows. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s here to see you,” Madaket whispered.

  “Well, who is it?” Joanna threw the covers back and stretched.

  Madaket rose and pulled Joanna to her feet. “It’s a man,” she said. “You’ll probably want to comb your hair.”

  “Why, Madaket, your hands are freezing!” Joanna exclaimed. “What’s going on? Who is it?”

  “He said his name is Carter Amberson.”

  Joanna clutched Madaket’s arm. “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, God, oh, Madaket! He came!” Her heart raced with joy.

  “He doesn’t look happy,” Madaket warned her.

  “He never does,” Joanna replied, smiling. “Help me up.” Joy had spontaneously ignited sparklers of energy inside her and she rose from her bed and hurried into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her hair. “Get my long red sweater,” she told Madaket. Sliding onto the bench in front of her dressing table, she grabbed up a brush and powder and lipstick and set to work.

  Madaket stood behind her, watching. “He said he’s in a hurry. He’s got a plane to catch.”

  Joanna laughed. “If he’s gone to the trouble of finding me, he’s not going to rush off. That’s just Carter’s way of making sure you understand how important he is. There. I look as good as I can, don’t you think?” She smiled, triumphant.

  “You look beautiful. I’ll help you down the stairs.”

  “Great. And then—come back up and tidy my bedroom.”

  “Joanna—”

  “Put clean sheets on the bed. The ivory set.”

  “Joanna, I really think—”

  But they had started their descent, and both women went silent as they saw Carter. Pacing the front hall in his herringbone overcoat, a glossy leather briefcase clutched in his hand, he looked as if he were waiting to board a shuttle. At the sound of Joanna’s steps, he turned and stood watching as she descended, leaning heavily on Madaket. His eyes shone fiercely cold and as blue as an arctic sea. He didn’t speak until Joanna reached the final step and the hallway. Then he said, “Hello, Joanna.” He didn’t move to kiss or touch her. The bunched fist of flesh she’d privately called his boxing glove protruded from his chin, a sure sign that he was angry, and ready for a fight. He was not here, then, for romantic reasons. Joanna took a deep breath.

  “Hello, Carter. Thanks, Madaket. Shall we go into the living room? Would you like a drink?”

  “No. Thank you.” Carter followed Joanna. Madaket flew back up the stairs. Joanna sank into an easy chair and gestured to Carter to do the same. “Won’t you take off your coat?”

  “No. I’m not going to be here very long.” He sat on the edge of the sofa across from her.

  “Oh?” She was trying hard not to break into a wide smile of sheer pleasure at the sight of this man she had loved so much, and still loved so deeply. She’d forgotten how handsome he was, how shining, like a creature more angelic than human. Finally he’d found her. “How did you find out where I was?”

  “The Kaufmans saw you over Labor Day weekend. Joanna, I think you owe me some kind of explanation.”

  “I think you’re looking at the explanation, Carter.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “With twins.”

  “They’re mine?”

  “Of course!”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Joanna dropped her eyes. “I thought you’d want me to have an abortion.”

  “You were right. I would have.”

  That hurt. She flashed her eyes back up at his face. “Why are you here, Carter?”

  “I wanted to see if the rumors were true. Which, obviously, they are. And I wanted to get some things clear with you.”

  “What things?”

  “I want it understood that I will not claim these children. They will have no access to my money or any claim to my estate. They—”

  “Carter, for Christ’s sake!” Joanna exploded, leaning forward in her chair. “What is your problem? What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few months, following you around on my knees?”

  “I think you’ve been playing a game,” Carter replied icily. “I just wanted to be certain you know I’m not playing it with you.”

  They stared at each other in silence. But Joanna had seen this expression on Carter’s face so many times before. He had found her, had come to her; she couldn’t believe she couldn’t break through to him.

  “Carter. Love. Don’t worry. I have no intention of asking you for anything. I have no intention of asking you to leave Blair. I—”

  “Joanna, I’ve left Blair. I thought you knew.”

  Her heart leapt with joy. “Oh, darling!”

  “I’m going to marry Gloria.”

  His words came like a kick in her abdomen. For a moment she couldn’t speak. When her breath came back, she said, forcing herself to speak lightly, “Gloria Breck? Why, Carter, she’s just a child!”

  “On the contrary, Joanna, she’s a capable and ambitious young woman.”

  Joanna stared into Carter’s eyes and saw that he was serious. Her heart twisted.

  “Well, then, congratulations.”

  He responded with a brusque, irritated nod. “So you see why I want to be sure we understand each other.”

  “Yes.” Now she wanted only not to humiliate herself further.

  “I did not want these babies conceived. I do not want them born.”

  “Fine. I’m not asking—”

  “When they are born, I don’t want to see them or know anything about them. I don’t care if they’re male or female or hermaphrodite Siamese twins.”

  “Really, Carter, there’s no need to be cruel—”

  “I don’t want my name on their birth certificates. I don’t want them to know anything about me. I don’t want them to know my name.”

  “Carter, I didn’t ever intend—”

  “I don’t care if they live or die. They have nothing to do with me.”

  “Stop it!” She wanted to
be dignified, but she was trembling. “That’s enough!”

  “I think you should go now.” Madaket was standing in the door, Wolf close by her side, his lips curled, his teeth bared, small growls rumbling in his throat.

  Carter stood, a great shadow looming over Joanna. “I mean it, Joanna. Everything I said.”

  “Yes, I know you do, Carter.” Joanna raised her head to look at him, letting her anger and sorrow show clearly on her face. Carter looked down at her, his face unreadable. Then he walked off. Joanna heard the front door open and close, heard the spatter of gravel as the car roared off.

  “Are you all right, Joanna?” Madaket came quietly into the room.

  “Yes. I just need to be alone awhile, please.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “No. No, thank you, Madaket.”

  “I’ll just be in the kitchen, then.”

  Joanna leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Her head ached horribly. She’d never imagined anything like this. She’d imagined herself alone, having left Carter, and she’d imagined herself and Carter reunited—oh, she’d imagined that in so many different ways. But this! Well, of course she’d been a fool not to prepare for this. She knew Carter always liked to have the last word. She should have known he would not let her be the one to leave him.

  But Gloria Breck.

  Carter was leaving his wife for Gloria Breck.

  That manipulative, phony little twit.

  She realized her hands were strangling the arms of the chair. Her body felt almost rigid with anger and grief. She wanted to throw things. She wanted to howl.

  After a while, she pushed herself up from the chair and with great effort made her way into the hall. She pulled on a coat and scarf and mittens. “Madaket,” she called, “I’m going out for a walk.”

  She stepped out the French doors. The brilliant late September afternoon shocked her, almost assaulted her with its sharp clear beauty. Today the world seemed such a profoundly clear and beautiful thing, and she felt ugly and muddled and ill and useless within it. Conflicting desires tore at her. She needed to lie down. She wanted to run.

  Picking her way through the prickly Rosa rugosa, now speckled with red rose hips, she made her way to the beach. The sunlight on the dancing dark blue ocean, the capricious wind, all seemed particularly intense and Joanna realized that this was because she was in a crisis now, at one of those climaxes of life when everything becomes intensely real and vivid. She would always remember this day.