“Thank you, Julia,” I said.
She smiled, and we hugged and held each other. Why, we were both thinking for sure, couldn’t he be alive to see and hear us at this moment? It would have changed the world for him.
I remained with Julia and my mother, keeping myself at home, for three more days. I had come with some doubt that I would go back to Wyndemere, but with every passing hour at home, I realized more and more that I would. They realized it, too.
There were tears when I left, but there wasn’t that dread. Unsaid, but heard, was the thought, the wish, Go find yourself and your life, Emma.
Julia promised to visit me in America. She said she would try to bring Mummy, too. And of course, I promised to visit again soon.
Promises were really the glue that held us together. They brought relief and helped us avoid disappointment and ugly truth.
As weird as it seemed, I was happy to be back at Wyndemere. Everyone there, especially baby Ryder, I thought, was happy to see me return. My guise as Samantha’s college friend was restored, and people were again invited to dinners and parties at the mansion. During many of them, I was asked to sing. The only dark moment came when Elizabeth Davenport suffered a stroke. Whatever semblance of mind she clung to kept her insisting she not be moved to any facility, and Dr. Davenport hired round-the-clock nursing for her. I was told she could live for years like that.
My six months of breastfeeding were coming to an end. No one was pressuring me to remain any longer, but comments about how healthy Ryder was were always tied in one way or another to the breastfeeding. Samantha was doing all she could to keep me amused, too. During the six months, she was still buying doubles of everything she bought for herself. Every once in a while, we’d dress alike, even doing our hair alike, and go to dinner just to see the looks on Mrs. Marlene’s and Dr. Davenport’s faces.
In a blatant attempt to keep me from leaving, Samantha had Dr. Davenport arrange for me to have an audition at a supper club in Hillsborough. I wasn’t going to do it, but it was Franklin who convinced me. Sometimes, I thought he wanted me to stay more than anyone else did.
“You know that shows are often tested outside of New York before they get there. So are performers, I imagine. Get some experience while you have free room and board,” he said, smiling. “What’s the harm? It’s all taking you toward the same goal. In entertainment especially, experience impresses.
“I promise,” he added, “we’ll wean you off breastfeeding.”
He took his time doing that after I auditioned and the owner hired me to sing Friday and Saturday nights. There was a wonderful piano player to accompany me. He had been playing for some famous singers when they had first begun and had a wonderful ear for picking up a melody and remembering the song. I was convinced he was making me a better singer, too.
Of course, I suspected Dr. Davenport had some influence, but the honest compliments I received from the owner and his patrons helped me build my self-confidence. Of course, both Samantha and he were often there. Parker was assigned to drive me to and from.
One night, Franklin brought his wife so I could finally meet her. I didn’t know what she knew, but I sensed he had told her almost everything. She was a very pretty woman but looked at me with suspicious eyes. It made me a little uncomfortable.
Otherwise, I was never happier. I called Mummy and Julia weekly to give them updates.
“I’m happy for you,” Julia told me. I had no doubt she meant it.
I was, after all, living in a mansion, part of a successful family, doing what I dreamed of doing, and having a wonderful, surprising friendship. Samantha had truly become more like a sister, both of us now caring for Ryder. The dark shadows that clung to the corners of Wyndemere were in retreat. Samantha even said that to me one day.
Perhaps they had heard her say it.
And perhaps upon hearing her say it, they had called on their brothers and sisters floating in the darkness outside, gathering in a storm of their own making.
To change everything.
FIFTEEN
Samantha had gone on a shopping spree, insisting she’d go by herself because she wanted to have a bag full of surprises, especially for me.
I had been told that the winter weather around Lake Wyndemere and Hillsborough was quite unpredictable this year. In January, there were unusually warm days. In fact, people were warned that the lake wasn’t as thickly frozen over. They were discouraged from ice skating. But then, as if Nature suddenly reminded itself it was winter, the temperatures dropped dramatically. Melting snows froze. The raindrops had started and were pellets of ice before they reached the ground. Trees were straining under the weight, branches cracking.
The sun was a deceiver. When it rose over the lake on that particular Tuesday morning, it made the world outside dazzling. It was quite inviting. Dr. Davenport had an intense day of surgery and had already left for the hospital by the time Samantha and I went down to breakfast. I had already gone in and changed Ryder so he could be brought down with us. Samantha had been up earlier but was preparing herself for the day of shopping. She liked to do her hair and dress smartly.
“I have to keep up my image,” she would tell me, “of a very important and successful heart surgeon’s wife.”
I wouldn’t call her vain or self-absorbed, as I was sure many envious women would. I saw how proud she was and understood that she felt she had to maintain that persona, almost the way one of our royals had to pay heed to tradition. She represented someone very important.
She did look beautiful, radiant, that morning. No matter what mood you were in, being around Samantha always brightened it. I had little doubt that it was the sunshine in her smile that Dr. Davenport looked forward to as soon as he returned home. Even if what he had accomplished that day was spectacular, it was still a grueling and tense journey to get there.
I wondered if my father had enjoyed the same respite when he returned home from his day. Unlike Dr. Davenport, he seemed to carry something back, some disapproval or disgust with the way most of his clients thought these days. Maybe we were the audience he sought after all. Mummy was certainly a great listener, helping him find the proper way to express his thoughts.
Ryder was making an effort to say real words and reaching for everything in sight. I was constantly aware of how bright he seemed and how handsome he would be. Whenever I looked at Dr. Davenport, Samantha, and Ryder together, I didn’t feel envy as much as I felt more ambitious for my own personal future. I had come to America with only one goal in mind: to build a singing career. Thinking about love and family was put off. When I looked at them now, I told myself, Emma, get going. Get back to New York. You’re going to lose your perspective. You’ll be in danger of falling in love with someone in Hillsborough and shelving anything else.
When Samantha was ready to go, I picked up Ryder and followed her to the door. Parker had taken Dr. Davenport to the hospital, and she had wanted to be on her own, anyway. She was still being quite mysterious about her shopping plans. I was suspicious, because she was always marking one sort of anniversary or another when it pertained to my being at Wyndemere. Almost every week, she would tell me that this was when we first did this or that and then give me something that was hers, something she claimed she rarely used, like a scarf with the tag still on it.
Tracking our little anniversaries came easily to her. She remembered far more detail than I did. Perhaps I was still feeling like someone caught in a whirlwind. Everything happened so quickly that events ran into each other, but not for her. She could sit down and relive every moment in a recitation that resembled a fairy tale: Once upon a time, the perfect surrogate came to Wyndemere…
It looked like a day for fairy tales. The sky was so blue that no one would think we’d see another cloud for a week. Ryder and I said good-bye to her at the door. He had learned how to wave his little right hand. We watched her drive off, and then I took him with me to play in his playpen while I practiced some songs on the piano. He
was fascinated with that, and sometimes he would just sit and listen for hours.
About an hour after lunch, I noticed that the sky had surrendered most of its blue to a rising tide of darker clouds. Wave after wave of them came out of the northeast. Mr. Stark told Mrs. Marlene that he thought the weather was undergoing a rapid change. I looked at my watch. Samantha said she was going to have lunch out and would probably head back about three. Head back from where? I wondered. She wouldn’t reveal anything, but it sounded like she was going farther than usual, perhaps to Centerville, which was a bigger city with more upscale stores.
Three o’clock came and went. At four, I went to the front windows to look at the weather. The sky was completely overcast, the clouds swirling with high winds. Fifteen minutes later, a slight rain began and gradually thickened into something that resembled sleet. I could hear it scratching at the windowpanes.
Ryder was having his nap. I was pacing about the mansion. Mrs. Marlene and I looked at each other, each reflecting the other’s worry.
The phone rang at a quarter to five. I was trying to keep myself from thinking anything bad by reading, but my eyes drifted off the page constantly. I held my breath and listened. Then I heard footsteps rushing down the hallway toward the library.
I sat frozen.
Mrs. Marlene appeared, her hands clasped against the base of her throat.
I stood up slowly. “What?”
“She’s been in an accident. They were looking for Dr. Davenport. They wouldn’t tell me anything.”
I went to her and took her hand, or she took mine.
“I’ll go get Mr. Stark,” she said. “He’ll know what to do.”
I nodded and walked out behind her. Mrs. Cohen was coming down the stairs.
“What is it?” she asked immediately.
“Samantha has been in an accident. They’re looking for Dr. Davenport.”
She glanced at her watch. “He’s out of the operating room by now,” she said. She continued down and to the kitchen to get something for Mrs. Davenport.
I went to check on Ryder. He was still asleep.
Another hour passed. And then, close to six thirty, we heard the doorbell. I hurried ahead of anyone else to open it. Franklin was standing there.
He didn’t have to say a word. His face spoke volumes, all of sadness and dread.
“She went off the road, at a turn, and hit the edge of a guardrail. Her car… it didn’t stop her…”
“Will she be all right?”
He shook his head.
I felt as if I had submerged myself in the icy waters of Lake Wyndemere, but I wasn’t cold so much as numb. Every muscle in my body seemed to lose its grip on my bones. Franklin saw what was happening to me and rushed forward to catch me before I folded up completely on the floor. My eyes closed in self-defense, trying to avoid reality. I felt him lift me under my legs and around my back to carry me inside and place me on the settee in the living room.
Mrs. Marlene had come out of the kitchen with Mr. Stark. I could hear her crying. He had already given her the dreaded news. Mrs. Cohen heard her, too, and came rushing down the stairs. She didn’t need anyone to say it.
“I need a cool wet cloth,” Dr. Bliskin told her.
Both she and Mrs. Marlene hurried to get one. Keeping busy was the only way to avoid hysteria.
Mr. Stark stepped up to Franklin. “I spoke to Charley Siegel at the police station. That damn Olympic Hill’s been the scene of a dozen or so fatal accidents over the years. People just forget that turn. She must have been in shock. She didn’t even attempt to brake.”
I felt the cloth on my forehead and opened my eyes. “It can’t be true,” I said.
“Harrison called me,” Franklin said. “He wanted me to be here to tell you and everyone. He’s in a bad way. I’m worried about him. We’ve got to hold it together for him. He’s not a man who permits his emotions a breath of air. He’s choking on his sorrow.”
I nodded. “He’s so strong for everyone else.”
“He is. That’s always the case,” Franklin said.
“The baby,” I said, and sat up. “I’ll go to him.”
“Good. Stay busy,” he advised.
I went up to Ryder’s nursery. He was sitting up in his bed quietly. It was eerie. It was as if he knew. He didn’t cry, but he didn’t smile at me the way he always did, either. He seemed to be studying my face for clues. All I could do was reach in, lift him into my arms, and hold him closely, rocking from side to side as my tears began to flood my cheeks.
It was a good two hours more before Dr. Davenport came home. Parker was at his side when he entered, which was something unusual on its own. He knew Dr. Davenport was a little unsteady. Franklin immediately hugged him and spoke softly to him while the rest of us watched from the living-room doorway. Harrison nodded, and the two of them went to Dr. Davenport’s office. Mrs. Marlene prepared some dinner for them and brought it there. I looked after Ryder, and after putting him to sleep hours later, I returned to the living room to wait.
“They’ve been in there with the doors closed all this time,” Mrs. Marlene said. “I heard the phone ringing often.”
I just nodded. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and returned to the kitchen. Most of the staff had gathered there.
Another good half hour later, I heard, “He wants to see you.”
Franklin had come so silently to the doorway that I thought he had simply appeared out of the air.
I rose. I think I was just as frightened as anything. He could see it clearly written on my face.
“He’s all right. I mean, he’s in some shock, but he has hold of himself. As always, he’s thinking about everyone else.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to go. This is my home number,” he said, handing me a card. “If you need me, call me anytime. He says he has to look in on his patient tomorrow, but I’m going to arrange for Dr. Stanley to cover for him. I’ll call early to tell him. See if you can get him to stay here. He’ll never admit it, but he needs tender loving care.”
“I understand,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Emma. You probably would have been better off just going home when you ran out of money in New York. I wasn’t looking out for you as much as I should have. I didn’t do much to dissuade you. I was thinking selfishly of my friends, and you were just a perfect candidate, someone willing and someone who I thought could benefit from it. Don’t feel obligated to do anything else.”
“Whatever I do won’t be because of any obligation.”
“Yes, I imagine not.” He stepped forward and hugged me and then turned and left.
I sucked in my breath, my sorrow, and my fear and walked slowly down the hallway to Dr. Davenport’s office. He was sitting behind his desk, turned toward the portrait of Samantha in her wedding dress. He surely heard me enter but didn’t look at me. I waited, holding back my tears, which made my throat ache.
Finally, he looked at me.
“You’re wearing one of her dresses,” he said, “one of those she had in your closet for you before you had arrived.”
I hadn’t realized it when I put it on. I never would think he was aware of what I wore.
“Yes. I put it on this morning before she and I went to breakfast.”
He nodded, as if that made some sort of sense.
“Come in,” he said, nodding at the settee.
I went to it and sat.
“I’m glad you’re a cardiac surgeon. I think you’ll have to sew my heart together,” I said.
He smiled wanly. “Sometimes, like this morning in the OR, I feel like I could raise the dead. When I was studying, interning, I remember surgeons who walked through the hospital hallways as if they were walking on water. I think that’s why historically the church and science have been at each other’s throat. There’s a palpable fear that science will eventually eliminate every reason to pray. Maybe I’m being punished for being part of that.”
I shook my head. �
��Don’t think like that.”
“Supposedly, Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor, had a servant assigned to follow him around, and every time Marcus received a compliment, the servant was commanded to say, ‘You’re only a man.’ ”
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” I said. “This isn’t some act of justice or revenge.”
He nodded, looked at Samantha’s picture and then back at me. “Did you know your grandmother on either side?”
“My maternal one.”
“Yes, I knew mine, too. She was full of superstitions. She would pounce on me whenever I got some toy I wanted and warn me not to reveal how happy I was so openly, or else the Evil Eye would see and punish me. She had me looking everywhere for some dark figure smiling with sinister delight. Maybe she was right. I had an angel, and I let everyone know I did.”
“You did nothing wrong,” I insisted. “She was an angel.”
He took a deep breath and turned completely to me.
“This is getting to sound like a broken record. I know you were planning on leaving soon. I wanted to see if…”
“I’ll stay as long as you need me,” I said quickly, “and I don’t want you to offer me any additional money.”
He nodded. “Samantha would like that.”
Now my tears came. He looked like he would crumple and turned away quickly.
“Franklin said you should stay home. He’ll make sure your patient is seen.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “Thank you.”
He looked down, and I rose.
“Is there anything I can get you?”
“No. Just see to Ryder. Thank you,” he said.
I left him sitting there looking completely devastated. For a moment, I imagined my father having some quiet time and perhaps regretting how badly things had gone between us. Like Dr. Davenport, he was good at keeping his sadness bound up tightly beneath his heart.
In the morning, Mrs. Marlene found him curled up, embracing himself, and asleep on the settee below Samantha’s picture. She told me he looked like a little boy. After she woke him, he went up to shower and change and sit with his mother. Friends began calling almost every twenty minutes. Franklin stopped by around noon. He and Dr. Davenport then left together to make Samantha’s funeral arrangements. Except for Ryder’s cries and baby talk, the mansion was quiet. The shadows were deepened and hovering over us all.
Whispering Hearts Page 24
