Belonging

by Nancy Thayer

  “Don’t, Mom.” Chrissy put her arm around her mother.

  Helen’s lower lip quivered. From a pocket in her cardigan she drew a handkerchief and twisted it in her hands. “I’m sorry your house burned down. I really am. I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Joanna leaned forward. “Oh, Helen, please. That’s not why I’m here. Listen. Please. I took the two rubies to Boston a few weeks ago and sold them. I want to give you some of the money. Thirty-five thousand dollars.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  Chrissy jerked her mother. “Mom.”

  “I don’t think of it as my money,” Joanna explained. “I was planning all along to give part of it to your son and part of it to Madaket. I just didn’t get around to it with the baby and all that happened.”

  “I can’t take your money.”

  “I want you to know that if you don’t want the money, I’m planning to donate it to the Nantucket Conservation Foundation, in Todd and Doug’s name.”

  “We want the money,” Chrissy said. “For God’s sake, Mom!”

  “You don’t have to decide now,” Joanna told her. “Just think about it.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Helen said.

  “I only wish I’d given them the money before,” Joanna told her. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  “You’re lucky you can just give away that much money,” Chrissy said accusingly. Joanna looked at her. “Yes, I am. I’m lucky in many ways that I’m only now discovering.”

  “We could use the money,” Helen admitted softly. “We really could use it, especially with the funeral expenses. And now that Doug won’t be working …” Her voice broke off in a sob. “Working!” she cried, and shook her head at her words, and dropped her face into her hands.

  Joanna opened her bag and took out an envelope. The check was enclosed, made out to Helen Snow, but she handed it to Chrissy, who opened it, and took the check out and stared at it in wonder.

  “Mom,” Chrissy said. “Look.”

  Helen looked at the check through her tears.

  “This is so generous.” Her voice was thick with effort. “I don’t know what to say. I never expected … Thank you.”

  For a long moment the three women sat in silence. Then Joanna rose. “I’ll see myself out.”

  She crossed the room in silence and quietly pulled the door shut behind her as she left the house. But when she reached her Jeep, she heard her name called. “Miss Jones!” She turned to look.

  Chrissy ran out of the house and down the walk and stopped on the other side of the Jeep. She was wringing her hands near her heart in an anguish of emotions, and her eyes spilled over with tears.

  “We really are grateful,” the young woman said. “This means I can go to college. I want you to know that. We couldn’t afford for Todd to go to college, and he knew how much I wanted to, and he loved me, and I’m going to miss him so much, but I know he would be glad about the money.”

  Tears streamed down Chrissy’s face, and she shivered unaware in the cold. Joanna thought her heart would break open.

  “Thank you for telling me. It helps to know.”

  They stared at each other across the hood of the Jeep for a long moment, then Chrissy ducked her head and ran back into the house.

  It amazed Joanna that her act of generosity brought her such enduring pleasure. She was financially comfortable, because she had worked very hard for many years and because she’d saved her money. But she was not so wealthy that thirty-five thousand dollars meant nothing to her. If she’d kept it, she could have contemplated not working for a year, while she enjoyed her baby. Or she could have put that money into a trust fund for Christopher when he was grown—for his college education.

  She’d considered all this before she gave the money to Helen Snow, and she’d even warned herself that once the money had actually been transferred, she might experience regret and anger.

  Instead, she felt as if weights had been taken from her shoulders. Her spirits lifted, her heart grew lighter. She knew she had done the right thing.

  Ten days after the fire, Madaket was released from the plastic bubble and into a private room in the Burn Center. Joanna packed a suitcase for herself and one for her baby and one for Fabulous Homes and flew with Christopher to Boston. She checked into a Holiday Inn near Mass General, set up a temporary base, and then with her baby in one arm and a bag of presents in the other, she went to visit Madaket. And visited her every day.

  There were things about which to be glad and grateful: Madaket hadn’t developed pneumonia or infections, both common with burns. Her scalp was covered with a fine bristle of black hair and the doctors promised that Madaket’s thick hair would grow back. Even the most damaged skin on the side of her face and hands was recovering.

  On the other hand, Madaket would never look like she had before the fire. As the days went by and the dressings were removed, the scarring of Madaket’s face was revealed. A giant patch, a continent of injured flesh, spread across her left temple and cheek from her hairline to her nose. Eventually the angry burgundy and crimson would fade but in its place would be new skin of a different shade and texture than the rest of the skin on her face. Madaket was no longer beautiful. Because of the scar, her face was shocking, painful to look at. The first time Christopher saw Madaket after the fire he made abrupt little startled movements and burst into tears. Joanna continually fought to keep herself from wincing when she looked at Madaket’s flesh and especially to prevent pity or shock from showing in her eyes. Each day as the new skin grew, the nurses left more of the area open to the air, and in spots where the skin was weak and sensitive, it broke open; the nurses dabbed Mercurochrome on those spots, adding yet another vivid, unnatural hue to Madaket’s multicolored face. It would be months, the doctors said, before the wound healed enough for them to evaluate the necessity and possible benefits of skin grafting.

  In the early days of Madaket’s recovery, Joanna refrained from speaking of Todd, or the fire, or the money from the rubies. Madaket was no longer dulled by painkillers, but she was far from her normal self, and spent most of her time either sleeping or staring blankly at the television.

  “Is Madaket depressed?” Joanna asked Lisa Hale, the head nurse, one day as they stood together in the hall, far from Madaket’s room and hearing.

  “Of course,” the nurse replied sensibly. “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Because of her appearance?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s the case with Madaket. She spends very little time looking in a mirror. I think it’s more a matter of simple exhaustion. You must understand that even though she was helped with morphine, she experienced a debilitating amount of pain. It will take a while for her body to recover from that. I think it’s just a matter of time. Be patient with her.”

  “I will,” Joanna promised, but she found it hard. It was such a drastic change to have energetic Madaket reduced to a silent hull. If it had not been for the way Madaket played with Christopher, Joanna would have been seriously worried.

  Instead, she really did try to be patient, and because it made her restless to simply sit in the hospital room, she set up a makeshift workstation there, and while Madaket held Christopher, Joanna made notes and memos which she had faxed from her hotel to the network in New York. Jake had hired a new secretary for Joanna, an older, efficient, quiet woman named Louise, and most mornings and afternoons Joanna began and ended her day in long conversations with Louise. Justin mailed her the proofs of her first book. Every day when Joanna walked from the hotel to the hospital, she carried Christopher in her arms, a diaper bag over one shoulder, and a loaded briefcase on the other. And it was odd, but she was very happy as she walked. She felt quite balanced.

  Two weeks passed this way. More and more of the bandages were removed, revealing new, thin, fragile skin stretching tautly over the burned area. This skin was tight and dry, Madaket said; the itching drove her wild. At first the nurse
s and Joanna, and later Madaket herself, helped soften the new skin by smoothing on lanolin cream.

  The morning finally came when Joanna arrived to find Madaket sitting up in bed, squeezing a rubber ball.

  “I see they’ve given you some toys to play with,” she laughed, depositing Christopher on the bed and bending over to undo his snowsuit.

  “Physical therapy,” Madaket replied. “I’m supposed to keep squeezing it so the skin growing over my knuckles won’t pull and hurt when I move my hands.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re diligent about it.”

  “The faster I get well, the sooner I can go home.”

  “Can it be you’re bored with this lovely hospital?” Joanna teased. When Madaket only groaned in response, she continued, “The Latherns are off to Europe for a month, and they’re giving us their house to stay in while we decide what to do.”

  Madaket flashed a look of concern that was balm to Joanna’s heart: she cared about this, she had healed enough to care about something.

  Madaket asked, “Aren’t you going to rebuild on your property?”

  “Yes, of course. But we have to live somewhere while the new house is being built.”

  “Oh. Right.” Madaket relaxed against her pillows.

  “Madaket,” Joanna said, curling up at the end of the hospital bed and idly moving Christopher’s feet and hands in a kicking and waving game he enjoyed, “do you think we could talk a little now?”

  Madaket shrugged. “All right.”

  “I mean, are you feeling that you’re on the way to recovery?”

  “I guess. Whatever that means.”

  Joanna looked at Madaket, who was staring at the blank television screen hanging from the ceiling. “There’s so much we have to talk about. The fire. And your animals. And Todd.”

  “What is there to say?” Madaket asked, her voice monotonal.

  Joanna thought a moment. “A lot. There’s a lot to say. We haven’t talked about how sad it is that Todd is dead. You haven’t told me what this means for your life.”

  “I don’t understand.” The young woman turned her black-eyed gaze to Joanna.

  “Madaket. I thought you loved Todd.”

  “I did.” She drew in a long, shuddering breath. “And it sucks that he’s dead.” She flashed a passionate look at Joanna. “That’s all I can say about his death. I can’t … I don’t want to … deal with it now. I can’t. I just … can’t.”

  “I understand, I think.”

  Madaket looked down at her hands. She’d stopped squeezing her rubber balls and now began again. “I did love Todd. I adored him. I idolized him. He was like some kind of god to me. But he could be a jerk. He was kind of an idiot, too.”

  Shocked, Joanna let an uncomfortable laugh escape. “Why do you say that?”

  “For one thing, he really thought he was going to find some more jewels. I did, too, at first, but after a few nights digging in the sand I could tell we wouldn’t find anything else. But he was so—romantic—about it!”

  “I need to tell you, Madaket—” Joanna hesitated, afraid to cause some sort of emotional upheaval that would cause Madaket to deteriorate back into her invalid self; but from sheer need she plunged on. “I overheard you talking with Todd the night of my dinner party for Justin. I overheard him trying to convince you to steal any other stones you found.”

  She’d expected Madaket to be embarrassed or angrily to protest her innocence, but the young woman only smiled ruefully and said, “Oh, Todd was always talking about that.”

  “But it seemed—it seemed he was seducing you so that you’d come around to his point of view.”

  Madaket was still smiling, and nodding her head. “That’s another thing he did all the time. It didn’t mean anything. I knew it, I always knew it, and on some evolved level of his Neanderthal mind Todd knew it, too. Todd was just a lover. Put him near a female and he’d try to get in her pants. Rather like the stories I’ve heard about my father.”

  “But would you have—?” Joanna stopped, afraid to upset the other woman.

  “Would I have helped him steal? If he had promised to love me, would I have helped him steal?” Madaket grew thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I never took him seriously. I knew what he was like. I never told him I would.” Again her dark eyes rested on Joanna. “Did you think I’d steal from you?” Without waiting for Joanna’s answer, she continued, talking slowly, musingly, “Perhaps I would. If it would bring back Todd. What can I say? I didn’t steal from you. I certainly didn’t know what Todd and his father were planning. They didn’t give me a hint.”

  Joanna felt tension lift off her shoulders. She inhaled a cleansing breath. “Good. I’m glad to know that. I needed to hear that from you. Todd is—was—so persuasive. And you did seem so—so much in love.”

  “I think I was only infatuated.” Her face grew wistful. “It was fun flirting with him. I’m going to miss that.” A shudder ran over her visibly, and she put her hands up, covering her face. When she spoke, her words were muffled. “I’m so sorry that he’s dead.”

  “I want to tell you what I did, Madaket. I sold the two rubies you and Todd found, and got seventy thousand dollars for them. I’ve already given half of that to Helen and Chrissy Snow—and I’m giving the other half to you. Thirty-five thousand dollars. For you to use however you wish.”

  Madaket regained her composure and with great care wiped the tears from her face. Solemnly she stared at Joanna. “Wow. That was really generous of you. I’m sure Mrs. Snow and Chrissy can use that. But, Joanna, you don’t have to give me that money. It’s not necessary.”

  Joanna smiled. “It’s necessary for me.”

  Madaket nodded thoughtfully. “I can understand that, I guess.”

  “You could make a down payment on a piece of property on Nantucket.”

  At this, Madaket looked surprised, and then she dropped her eyes to the bed, and Joanna sensed a shrinking in of her spirit, as if Madaket were actually shriveling before her eyes.

  “Madaket?” Reaching over, she touched the young woman’s arm. “What is it?”

  Madaket had been sitting up in bed with her legs stretched out underneath the sheets and now she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging them, defending herself. She looked very young. “I thought … it was only that you said … you’ve said several times, when I was in the bubble, that I’d always live with you. That I would be, well, like your family.”

  “Oh, but I meant that! I mean that. I do!” Hastily Joanna slid off the rumpled sheets, picked a startled Christopher up in one arm, and moved to the top of the bed, to sit down next to Madaket, whose spirits suddenly seemed as fragile as her new skin. “It was only that I overheard you telling Todd that you’d buy property of your own, if you could. But you don’t have to use your money for that. You can save it and use it for whatever you want in the future.”

  “Thank you,” Madaket said softly.

  “Oh, Madaket, I meant everything I said. I do love you like a daughter, and I do want you to live with me and stay with me always.”

  “Thank you,” Madaket said again, and this time she raised her dark eyes and looked at Joanna. Her breath came out in a long shiver. “I’m glad.”

  Joanna felt tears rise to her own eyes. “I’d hug you, but I’d probably knock your bandages askew,” she said frivolously, and Madaket chuckled and Christopher eased the tension of the moment by shrieking gleefully and waving his arms at Madaket, who took him in her hands and bounced him on the bed.

  “So you see, we did have a lot of things to discuss,” Joanna said, modulating her voice to a commonsense tone. “A lot of things to set straight. I’m sorry if I insulted you by asking if you were planning to steal anything you found, but it was something I needed to know. I’ve never had anyone I could completely trust before.”

  Madaket looked levelly at Joanna. “Well, now you do.”

  Joanna smiled. “And so do you.”

  Twe
nty-six

  As the month of March progressed, Madaket’s face and hands and chest healed completely. The new skin, stretched so thinly over her wounds, broke open in several places, was dressed with bacteriostatic medicines, and grew again. The unmitigated itch of all this made Madaket irritable, and she was also restless, bored with the hospital, eager to get out of there, and she mentioned this, it seemed to Joanna, a hundred times a day.

  “Soon,” the nurses promised. “Very soon.”

  “I kind of like it here,” Joanna told Madaket one late afternoon as she prepared to return to the hotel. Sunlight as pale as sheets of parchment fell from the windows into the hospital room. Christopher squirmed and wriggled on the bed as Joanna bundled his limbs into his puffy snowsuit.

  “You do? You’re kidding!” Madaket scoffed.

  “I really do. It seems kind of—homey.”

  “Wait a minute,” Madaket said. “Hold on. Homey? Homey?” She held out her hands to hold Christopher one last time before he left for the day, and automatically Joanna handed him to her.

  Then, pulling on her coat and floppy hat and gloves, she looked around. “Yes, homey. I guess what I mean is, it makes me think of the network. I’ll take you in to see it sometime. Then you’ll understand. It’s got the same marvelous electric sense of urgency, people hurrying through corridors, phones ringing, people arguing and laughing and shouting for each other, equipment and cables everywhere, huge message boards with thousands of notes thumbtacked to them.”

  “Have you read some of the boards here?” Madaket asked. “Charts for things like ‘fasting bloods.’ Like something from a vampire movie.”

  “You’re just stir-crazy, and I don’t blame you.” Joanna pecked a quick kiss on the top of Madaket’s bristly scalp, and took Christopher from Madaket’s arms and, calling goodbye to the nurses as she went, set off through the labyrinthian hospital halls, down the elevator, and out to the streets.