by Nancy Thayer
Darwin, the adorable fat bulldog, had Marie, Ruth’s kitten, trapped in a corner. The little kitten was arched and hissing like a teapot. The bulldog was barking so hard he nearly rose off the floor with each yelp. His tail wagged back and forth like a frantic metronome.
Marilyn hesitated. Darwin was only a pup, but his massive head and powerful jaw filled Marilyn with trepidation. If he bit her, if he only nipped her, he could do substantial damage, couldn’t he?
“Stop! Bad dog!” Ruth cried. “Oh, my poor little kitten.”
Marilyn had to do it. She plunged in, grabbed the dog by his collar, and yanked him away so hard that they both almost fell over backward. Darwin didn’t try to bite, but did struggle to get back to his prey as Marilyn hauled him across the floor and up the stairs. When she even slightly relinquished the pressure of her hold on his collar, he would flip, with surprising agility for such a fat little butterball, and try to go in the opposite direction. Bent nearly double, her fingers hooked tightly around his collar, Marilyn half-carried, half-escorted a barking, wriggling, tail-wagging, slobbering Darwin up three flights of stairs to his master’s room.
Angus’s door was partly open.
“Angus?” Marilyn called.
No answer.
She pushed the door open and dragged Darwin inside. Angus was sound asleep in front of the computer, his head resting on the desk, his arms hanging down limp.
“Angus!” Marilyn slammed the door behind her and released the dog, who raced around the room, yipping triumphantly.
Angus continued to snore.
“Angus!” Annoyed, Marilyn shook the young man’s shoulder.
Finally he opened his eyes. “What.”
“Angus, wake up. Angus, listen to me. You didn’t latch the bedroom door properly. Darwin got out and went down to my mother’s quarters and terrorized her kitten.”
Angus yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Ach, he was only playing with her.”
“Well, he acted like he wanted to eat her. The point is, he frightened my mother, who is eighty-seven years old. She could have had a heart attack. She could have tripped over the dog. You have got to keep him under control if you’re going to have him in this house.”
“Fine,” Angus said. “Sorry.”
“Angus, come on,” Marilyn pleaded. “Look at your pet! He needs to go out! He’s full of energy. And I’m sure he has to pee.” She glanced across the room, where a water bowl sat on some newspapers. “Angus! Darwin’s water bowl is dry! Really, that’s cruel. You’ve got to keep it filled! What’s the matter with you! I don’t care if you waste your life away hiding up here like an albino vampire, but I do care that you neglect your animal!”
Darwin, startled by the sharpness in Marilyn’s voice, quivered and peed on the floor.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Angus!” Marilyn screamed. “You have got to get yourself in control!”
27
Alice rose early Thursday morning, sliding quietly from the bedroom where Gideon remained snoring. She showered and dressed, scribbled a note for Gideon, and hurried down to her car.
She wanted to get out to The Haven early, before Jenn and Alan opened their bakery, so she’d have a few moments to talk to them.
She had to do it today, immediately, before she lost her nerve. Her five days on Nantucket had brought home quite clearly how tired she was, and how much more she enjoyed her life when she wasn’t frantic and rushed. Saturday night, she and Gideon had played bridge with friends, and for the first time in a long time, Alice had been able to focus. She’d played like a champ, her happy mind clicking away memorizing the other players’ bids, the cards they’d played, figuring out who had what king, queen, or jack, and she’d won almost all the games, except for the one where she and Gideon were both dealt hideous hands. Afterward, she’d felt absolutely exhilarated. Sunday, she and Gideon had taken a long, slow stroll through the city, holding hands and talking, and Alice didn’t feel exhausted, but invigorated by the walk. Gideon had seemed so much more charming to her, so much less irritating, and when she mentioned this to him, he’d said, with a rueful smile, “Alice, I’m the same as I always am. It’s you who’ve changed. You’re more relaxed.”
It was true. The five days on Nantucket had worked like a stay at a health spa. Her heart hadn’t acted up once. Her senses were sharper. Food tasted better, flowers were more fragrant, and Sunday afternoon, when she and Gideon attended a concert, the music had sent her spirits soaring.
So she was determined to change her life. She’d talked it over with Shirley and her Hot Flash friends and with Gideon. She’d given it serious thought. She would tell her son and his wife that she couldn’t babysit every single day for darling baby Aly. She’d continue for a week or so, until they lined up a replacement. She’d remain available in an emergency. She’d even babysit one or two days a week, regularly, so she could have time with her granddaughter. But she just couldn’t keep doing it every day.
Now Alice parked at the front of the gatehouse and let herself in with her own key. Alan and Jenn kept the front door of their home locked, so customers wouldn’t wander in.
The small living room was cozy, cluttered today as it was every Monday morning, with the debris of a lazy Sunday. Newspapers hung over the coffee table, and baby paraphernalia was scattered everywhere. It was only a little after eight o’clock. The shop didn’t open until nine, but Jenn and Alan would have been up since five-thirty, baking. Aly might be asleep in her cot in the private kitchen, or lying there, blowing bubbles at the brightly colored plastic mobile hanging above her. Alice didn’t call out because she didn’t want to wake the baby.
She headed toward the kitchen.
And stopped dead.
“I can’t do it anymore, Alan!” Jenn’s voice was shrill. “I’d rather get divorced!”
Alice’s heart shot rockets of fear through her body. Her fingertips and lips went cold. She grabbed the back of the sofa for support.
A door slammed. A few moments later, Alan’s bakery van raced around the side of the gatehouse and out to the main road.
Jennifer walked into the living room, holding the baby in her arms. Aly was awake, her lower lip protruding, obviously on the verge of tears.
“Alice!” Jennifer jumped.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Alice hurriedly informed her daughter-in-law. “I came early. I wanted to talk with you and Alan. I’m sorry if I intruded.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” Jennifer said. “Look, Aly!” With a false smile and a forced chipper voice, she plunked down on a chair, holding her baby up. “Alice is here!”
Alice waved her arms and smiled. Alice took the baby from Jennifer and sat down on the sofa with her, cooing to her and nuzzling noses in the way that always made the baby laugh.
“I was going to talk with you about it, anyway,” Jenn said in a martyred tone. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Alice asked.
Tears rolled down Jenn’s cheeks. “Alan. He’s gotten so weird. He’s not the man I fell in love with. He’s not the man I married. He’s sullen, and negative, and so easily offended. We seem to fight all the time.”
Alice lay the baby on her back along the length of her legs. Aly’s diaper was full, she could tell by the smell, but this was no time to interrupt Jenn, and the infant was content, blowing bubbles as Alice bounced and cooed.
“You’re both overworked,” Alice began.
Jenn shook her head. “We’re not working any harder than we were a year ago.”
“But you have a baby,” Alice pointed out. “A new baby in the house always complicates everything.” Smiling down at her granddaughter, she said in a singsong voice, “And she’s such a perfect little baby, too!”
“Yes, she is, but she still won’t sleep all night.” Jennifer gave way to full-force sobbing. “I’m so sleep deprived.”
“When your mother was here—” Alice began.
Jenn cried harder. “Oh, sh
e was wonderful with the baby, but she kept comparing my life to my sisters’. Their babies are all perfect. They don’t have to work, so they can keep the house in order. And my brother’s wife has a full-time live-in nanny!”
Anger stung Alice. Jenn’s mother clearly disapproved of Alan as father and husband. Because of Alan, Jenn had to work. Because of Alan’s lack of financial success, they couldn’t afford a full-time nanny.
“Well,” Alice thought aloud. “What if you stopped working for a year or so? Until you thought Aly was old enough to spend some time in day care? If you stopped working—”
“If I stopped working, we’d have to hire someone in my place, and pay a salary and we’d never save any money toward a house of our own!” Jenn dug in her pocket for a tissue and noisily blew her nose. “Alan certainly couldn’t manage without my help. He’s hardly doing his part as it is, and he’s gotten so sluggish and pathetic about everything. He’s just dragging himself through life, and he’s pulling me down with him.”
“Oh, Jennifer.” Alice hated the sound of condemnation in her daughter-in-law’s voice. Yet she understood Jennifer’s impatience. Alan had been a “moody” child. A couple of years ago, after a failed marriage, Alan was diagnosed with depression. It worked on him silently, gradually, he told her. It was not abrupt, not like being hit by lightning. It was more as if, normally, his good spirits flowed through him like a recirculating fountain, until something, some rogue chemical in his brain, pulled the plug. Slowly, gradually, relentlessly, his energy, love of life, and optimism were drained away, leaving him empty and emotionally weak. The illness was sneaky, too. He never knew it had hit him until he was sapped and strained, and after his medication kicked in and his good spirits recovered, he couldn’t believe he’d ever been as despondent as people told him he was.
“You know,” Alice said slowly, “Alan does have a problem with depression.”
Jennifer sniffed. “I can’t tell my mother that. She’d freak out.”
“Depression is nothing to be ashamed of,” Alice reminded her. Yet as she spoke, she knew she was being hypocritical. Ever since Alan had been diagnosed with depression, she’d felt ashamed, and guilty. Didn’t everything in Alan’s personal makeup come from either nature or nurture? And wasn’t she responsible for both? She had never had depressive episodes, but her ex-husband Mack, the boys’ father, had been a charming womanizer, capable of great highs and also great lows that sent him off to neighborhood bars and other women’s beds. Perhaps Mack had a problem with depression, but back then, no one ever called it that. But Alice had married Mack, which made her responsible for the genes that created Alan. But would Alan be Alan without his depression? Certainly he wouldn’t be who he was if she’d married someone else.
“Maybe not to you,” Jennifer said sulkily.
Alice was surprised by Jennifer’s tone. Jennifer was usually such a sweetheart, so good-natured, so buoyant. “Jennifer,” she said softly, trying not to upset the baby, but putting a warning in her voice, “you went through a pretty bad postpartum depression after baby Alice was born.”
“Great, throw that in my face!” Jennifer snapped. “I had a reason to be depressed, I’d just nearly died with preeclampsia, I was bloated and my blood pressure was all over the place. There was a physical cause for my depression.”
“That’s true,” Alice said softly, conciliatorily. “And as I recall, Alan was wonderful then. He was solicitous and caring. He ran the bakery and pampered you. Perhaps he’s tired. Perhaps your mother’s disapproval hurt him and—”
“Oh, fine, blame it on my mother!” Jennifer began to sob again.
The baby’s little face scrunched up in a pre-tear pucker. Alice hoisted the baby to her shoulder, stood up, and walked around the room, bouncing Aly, holding her so she could see the gleam of light on a brass candlestick, one of her favorite sights. The baby cooed at the candlestick, waving her arms in excitement.
“Jennifer,” Alice said softly. “Why don’t you go lie down for a little while?”
“I can’t!” Jennifer’s voice was shrill. “I’ve got to be in the shop. Alan’s off on a delivery.”
“I’ll man the shop,” Alice said.
“How can you do that and take care of Alice?” Jenn demanded. “Believe me, she’s not going to fall asleep.”
“Look, your shop is not exactly Au Bon Pain,” Alice pointed out sensibly, which only made Jenn cry harder. “I mean, you’re out in the country here. I’m not going to have to feed the multitudes. Most of your drop-ins are people from The Haven wanting a cake or a loaf of bread, right? Some mornings you hardly have any drop-ins at all.”
“No,” Jenn refused, wiping her eyes. “No, you’ve got enough on your hands with Aly.”
“If the shop gets busy, I’ll phone Shirley and ask her to come help,” Alice said. “Now go on, grab a nap while you can.”
“Well…okay then.” Jenn wobbled off into the bedroom.
Alice put a fresh diaper on Aly, then carried her through the bakery kitchen and out to the little shop. Already her shoulders ached. With relief, she spotted the playpen in the corner, behind the display case and next to a small desk where they answered the phone and typed orders into a computer. She settled the infant on her back in the playpen. The baby waved her legs and smiled at her mobile.
The phone rang. Alice picked it up and took an order for a birthday cake to be picked up on Friday. As she tapped the information into the computer, she glanced at Aly. The baby had fallen asleep, her long eyelashes slanting against her chubby cheeks, her perfect mouth making sucking motions, as if she were dreaming of her bottle.
Alice looked around the shop. All was quiet. Everything was clean and shining. Clearly Jenn and Alan kept their place of business in perfect order, even if their home was in chaos. Alice slipped into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and returned to the shop. From here she could see cars going up the drive to The Haven. It cheered her to know that Shirley was so nearby. Maybe she’d phone Shirley, invite her down here for a little chat…
…and maybe she wouldn’t. Shirley would be sure to remind Alice that Alice had decided to stop working so hard, to start taking care of herself. Shirley would remind her, and so, when she returned home this evening, would Gideon, and so would her other friends when she spoke to them, that Alice had planned to tell her son and his wife that they needed to make other arrangements, so she could stop making the daily drive out to help them.
Well, obviously, she couldn’t let her son and his family down now. Alice sipped her coffee, her thoughts racing. When Alan returned from his delivery, she’d have a little heart-to-heart with him. She’d suggest he go back on his medication. If he did that, his temperament would improve rapidly, within a month or so. She could continue to help out here for at least another month.
Her heart did a triple somersault worthy of a carnival acrobat. Rubbing her chest, Alice blamed it on the caffeine in her coffee.
28
Friday afternoon, Shirley drifted through The Haven. In the hopes she’d look professional and administrative, she carried a clipboard, but really she was just trying to inhale some of the stimulating, relaxing, life-affirming scents, sounds, and vibrations from all the various rooms.
Star was leading a yoga class in the smaller workshop space. Her voice was so full of warmth and serenity, Shirley wanted to unbutton her tight jacket, lie down on the floor in her business suit, kick off her heels, and let herself drift.
In the gym, several women were spinning away on their stationary bikes, singing along to headphones, really caught up in the movement. A blonde’s long ponytail bounced to the beat, reminding Shirley how she used to jog to Aerosmith, filling her lungs with good clean air while her spirits soared on the wings of Joe Perry’s guitar.
She didn’t jog anymore. She hadn’t mentioned it to her Hot Flash friends, but her right knee was sort of falling apart. She tried to stay healthy with regular yoga exercises, but her running days were over, and
she’d been informed by her doctor that knee surgery was in her future.
Laughter and chatter flew like bright birds around the locker room. Women rushed in and out, showered, dressed, or undressed for a massage, or an aromatherapy session, or a soak in the Jacuzzi. Shirley stuck her head into the aromatherapy room and took a long inhalation of the scent wafting through the air—thyme, she thought, and perhaps grapefruit?
She went up the back stairs to the second floor, her knee twinging with each step. Beth Young stood in front of a classroom of fourteen women, teaching a seminar called “Medieval and Modern Women: How Different Are We?” Shirley smiled and leaned against the door jamb for a few moments, listening.
A petite brunette, Beth had once been shy to the point of invisibility. She’d first come to The Haven because her boyfriend’s family was superathletic, while the heaviest thing klutzy Beth ever lifted was an anthology of English literature. Slowly and steadily, Beth had developed, if not muscles, then the belief that muscles could exist on her slight frame. More importantly, she’d increased her self-esteem. She’d married her boyfriend Sonny, finished her Ph.D., and made close friends with three of the women she’d met at The Haven. Her life was full, and Beth was flourishing. She’d even gained some badly needed weight. It was as if she had become substantial to herself.
A success story. One of many. Shirley allowed herself a moment of pride at the thought. Then, because she didn’t want Beth to see her lurking out there, she moved on down the hall. The other rooms were empty at this hour. Faye had once taught art therapy here, and a new teacher had taken Faye’s place, but she could teach only on Saturdays. Justin, Shirley’s vile ex-lover, had once taught creative writing here. No one had replaced him, which was okay for the summer months when fewer people signed up for indoor activities. She’d find someone to teach starting in the fall, when, as the days grew shorter and colder, people sought out classroom endeavors.
Shirley loved that Beth, once a student, now taught at The Haven. There was something fluid, circular, and whole about it, something taken and given back. This was exactly the sort of thing she’d always dreamed of achieving: creating an atmosphere where women could be soothed, healed, and rejuvenated.
