Embers

by Antoinette Stockenberg

  Meg plunged her hands into the big front pockets of her dress and took two steps toward her sister-in-law, then leaned over until she was eye to eye with Comfort. "To piss you off, Comfort," she said. "For no other reason."

  "Margaret Mary, that is enough! What's the matter with you!" her father said angrily, jumping up from his chair.

  Meg turned on her father. "Oh, for God's sake, Dad! Allie's lying on an operating table with her life in the balance, and we're sitting around measuring alcohol content! Who cares how she ended up in surgery! She's there; that's all that counts! Are you too blind to see it?"

  Everett Atwells recoiled visibly from his daughter's whip and fell back in his seat, his cheeks red and smarting from her fury.

  Meg was flailing at anything that moved because she couldn't flail at herself. Wyler understood that perfectly well, but no one else knew that. He had to do something, and quick.

  He took her arm, the black and blue one, to give her an excuse later for the marks, and said, "C'mon. We're going outside for some air."

  "Don't you tell me what to do," she said, seething.

  "I'm not impressed by these hysterics," he said in her ear. "You pride yourself on being the adult in this family. Act like one."

  He'd pushed the right button. She brought herself under control with a deep, shuddering sigh and said to her father, "We're going outside for a minute. If anyone comes out, come and get me. Right away, Dad," she demanded. "Don't wait one second."

  The two of them went outside without exchanging a word. Meg led the way to a bench at a picnic table in the shade on the hospital's east side, and they sat down next to each other, carefully not touching.

  Wyler began at the beginning. "What happened after the two of you left the cabin?" he said in a voice deliberately stripped of emotion.

  Meg made an effort to match his tone. Without looking at him, she said, "I tried to catch up to her, but she lost me. She drives like a maniac; you know that. I drove around for a while, checking out her old haunts, but couldn't find her. Then I went home. She never came back."

  "All right, okay," he said, relieved. "Then you didn't catch her and engage in some confrontation that set her off."

  Meg turned and looked at him with amazement, then said, "I'd say we confronted just fine in your cabin."

  "Don't start on that, Meg," he warned. "It's absolutely pointless to play the blame game. You were right to tell your family that the only thing that matters right now is Allie. What you have to understand is this: Allie did what she wanted to do, and so did you, and so did I."

  She heard him; but he wasn't sure she understood him.

  "She doesn't have car insurance, of course," Meg said dully. "Except for liability. I just found that out."

  He winced. "How about separate medical?"

  "Nope. She let it lapse the last time they raised the premium. I couldn't talk her out of dropping it. Allie thinks — thought — thinks — she's invincible," Meg said in confusion.

  She crossed her arms on the picnic table and bowed her head.

  "I remember the day my mother told me she was pregnant with Allie," she said softly. "I was eleven, and we didn't have any money then either. It was the same old struggle with bills every month; there never seemed to be enough money left over to buy me the right toys or the right clothes or for all I know, a pony — whatever it was that was important to have at that age.

  "I remember how angry I was that there was going to be another drain on the money; how irresponsible my parents seemed to me. I threw this gigantic tantrum ... I was horrible. And then, after Allie was born, we all just ... fell in love with her. She was the light of our lives. She would crawl up on your lap and ... and squeeze you ... and you would squeeze her back. It was the best feeling in the world."

  Meg straightened up and, smiling, wrapped her arms around herself. "As soon as Allie was able to stand, she took off. She never walked, always ran. She'd fall and cry and get up again on her little legs and run. She loved to be chased, just loved it. She'd just ... shriek ... for joy, for the fun of it. The house was such a happier place after she was born ..."

  Meg's lip began to quiver; a single tear rolled out the corner of one eye. "It's ... ah ... just ... incredible," she said, struggling to keep control. "All those times in high school ... when she was driving around with that crowd ... and she never got a scratch, never got a ticket. And now, just because of me ..."

  "You cannot control your sister's behavior," he said softly. "You can't."

  She closed her eyes. "Then I'd like to find the package store that sold her the booze, and cut out the owner's heart."

  "Meg — you can't control him either. Don't you understand? Your codependency —"

  "Oh, please," she snapped. "Spare me your buzzwords."

  "Skip the buzzwords, then!" he said impatiently. He jumped up from the bench, too frustrated with her to sit still. "You are not responsible for your sister's thoughts or feelings or destiny. Understand that and learn to live with it, dammit!"

  She was so blind. How could he make her see? He stopped mid-pace and looked down at her, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, and said bluntly, "This situation between Allie and you ... it's not healthy, Meg. It's a common one — more common than people ever guessed — but it's not healthy."

  Meg was quiet, dangerously so. "So you're saying, what? That I need counseling?"

  "Maybe when things settle down a bit."

  Again she seemed to mull it over. He held his breath.

  "You're telling me this now?"

  "I wanted to before. I've wanted to ask, have you ever been to Al-Anon?"

  "But it's Allie who was rolled over in a car crash. Why do you keep bringing the subject back to me?" Meg asked, bewildered.

  "Because you need help as much as Allie!" he said. "You need to break free of her! Can't you see that?"

  When he thought about it later, he realized that that was the exact moment he knew he loved her beyond all hope. But that came later, after his rage and hurt died down.

  Meg got up almost casually from the bench and stood facing him. She slipped her hands into the big square pockets of her sundress of pale pink, a color oddly flattering to the deep flush in her cheeks. He could see, through the fabric of the pockets, that her hands were balled into fists. No doubt about it: Meg Hazard was getting ready to blow up her last bridge.

  "If there's anyone who needs counseling, it's got to be you," she said with a calmness that was belied by her high color. "You're the one with the failed marriage. You're the one from a string of loveless homes. After all, when you finally did land in the arms of two people who cared, what did you do?"

  She was a terrorist, a terrorist in a pink sundress. "I'd rather not have to listen to this, Meg," he said in a low and dangerous voice.

  "You ran away. Doesn't that tell you something?"

  "I explained why. Leave it alone, Meg."

  "It tells me everything I need to know. It tells me you're incapable of forming — or keeping — a relationship."

  "Don't, Meg," he warned, his face flushing with anger. "We'll both regret it."

  "It's not your fault," she said pityingly. "You had a horribly screwed-up childhood. I understand that now; now that you've told me about it. I mean, my God — your mother abandoned you in a Sears Roebuck!"

  Wyler laughed at his own stupidity: in a moment of intimacy, he'd handed her the ammunition, handed her the fuse, and now she was blowing his life up in his face.

  His laugh infuriated her. "So what the hell do you know about family love?" she said, exploding at last. "What the hell do you know about relationships — good, bad, or indifferent? You've never stuck around long enough to figure one out! If there's anyone around here who could use some counseling, it's you!"

  She folded her arms across her chest and turned her back on him. "How I curse the day I met you!"

  He grabbed her by her shoulders and swung her around to face him. He was short of breath, reeling from
her attack. "Listen to me, Meg. What I said to you last night I never told anyone — not Lydia, not anyone. But I told you. You're right," he said, his eyes blazing with anger. "I'm not quick to trust. And you want to know something, lady? Now I see why. So curse all you want, Meg, but get counseling, and get it quick — because your guilt is making you vicious."

  She gasped, speechless with rage, and slapped him, hard; there was nothing halfway about it. It was as low a moment as he'd ever experienced with any woman, anywhere. Meg's face was ashen. He hoped she was strong enough to forgo fainting as he turned and walked away to his car.

  Chapter 22

  To Meg, she looked like Snow White. Even with her head wrapped in bandages and an oxygen mask over her mouth, she was extraordinarily beautiful. The creamy purity of her skin, the hint of color in her cheeks that said she was still alive — neither Disney's animators nor German doll makers could possibly do better. Her heart, like Snow White's, was definitely still beating. You could tell by the monitor that it hadn't been broken completely.

  The IV bag that was hooked up to Allie's unshattered arm was nearly empty; Meg frowned and left the room on tiptoe to find a nurse to fill it before the signal beeper went off.

  ****

  When the phone rang later at the Inn Between, Meg was on her way out the door with two slices of bread in one hand, two slices of honey loaf in the other. She let Comfort answer it and waited to find out if it was the hospital. It was not.

  Comfort put her hand over the phone and whispered, "He wants to know how Allie is."

  Meg glowered and murmured, "You update him," and kept on going out the door. But she paused, with the screen door propped open on her hip, intending to censor Comfort if necessary.

  "Tom? Yes, well, there's good news. Allie's regained consciousness. She hasn't actually talked to any of us yet, but someone is always there. It was lucky a neurosurgeon was vacationing here, else she'd be in Bangor now. Anyway, Dr. Aller said the worst is past. She had a depressing skull fracture — what? Oh, that must be what he said, a depressed skull fracture. They had to escalate —"

  "Elevate," Meg hissed.

  "— elevate the pieces of her skull ... well, I can't talk about that anymore, it's too horrible," Comfort said, beginning to weep. "And her arm is in a temporary cast," she said, ripping off a paper towel to wipe her nose on. "And that's all I know."

  Tom asked a question at the other end of the line and Comfort answered, "A couple of days. And then she'll go into the regular ward for a few days more. Maybe a week and a half, altogether. We're hoping it's less. We want her home with us and also, well, the cost —"

  Meg shook her head fiercely at her sister-in-law and Cornfort shut up instantly.

  Meg heard the faint echo of Tom's voice again — she was surprised at how dispassionate she was being about him — and then saw Comfort glance at her with a guilty look.

  Comfort turned away from Meg and lowered her voice. "Oh ... pretty well, all things considered," she murmured, cupping her hand over the phone. "She's been at the hospital almost nonstop —"

  A poke from Meg stopped Comfort mid-sentence. Tom said something and Comfort, with a defiant look at Meg, said, "You're not a pest at all, Tom. How else will you know anything? Call as often as you want. Someone is always here ... well, no," she said, turning away and lowering her voice again. "She hardly ever is. I doubt she'll come home until Allie does."

  ****

  As it turned out, Meg got to come home well before that. The first time that Allie actually opened her eyes and spoke to anyone, it was to Lloyd. (Meg was in a bathroom nearby, splashing cold water on her face.) Allie's first words were, "I don't want to see her."

  Lloyd had no idea how to coat that message with sugar, so when Meg returned, he took her aside and repeated it word for bitter word.

  "I'm sorry, Meggie," he said, rubbing his sleeve nervously with a rough hand. He glanced out the window, then turned to her with a baffled look. "What happened between you two? She won't tell. And you — you been actin' all along as if you ran over her by accident. What's goin' on? We have to know."

  He tucked the back of his plaid shirt in his pants and said, "It's got to do with Tom, don't it? You mize well say. Comfort saw you with him outside the hospital," Lloyd explained, his cheeks turning ruddy. "She said you two ain't exactly on formal terms."

  In his own roundabout way, Lloyd was asking Meg if she and Tom were lovers. Meg, completely devastated by her sister's command, hardly heard her brother's question.

  "She can't mean that, Lloyd. You must've misunderstood her," she said faintly.

  "No, she was pretty clear about it," he said unhappily. "Meggie — is there some real feelin' between you and Tom? We have to know," he repeated.

  Dazed, Meg only said, "Why, Lloyd? Why do you have to know? Can't I have one little part of my life that I call my own?" She peeked around the corner at her sister, half expecting Allie to be sitting up in bed, ready to shoo her away. But Allie was lying on her back with her eyes closed, exactly as Meg had left her.

  Shaking and dazed, Meg began to walk away. In her mind one thought overwhelmed all others: Whatever Allie wants.

  After a few steps Meg turned and said to her brother, "Since you seem to have to know: there will never be feeling between Tom and me again."

  She left the car at the hospital and walked home in a state of shock. The last week had been a series of nonstop shocks, but this one was leaving her numbest of all. For Allie to reject her so publicly ... for her to do it so quickly, in her first lucid moment ... it was devastating. If Allie had waited until she'd actually seen Meg; or if she'd got to talking with Lloyd, and Meg's name had come up ... But to do it first thing ... it was crushing, and a measure of how deeply Meg had hurt her sister.

  Meg turned onto Main Street and walked in a straight line, oblivious of the crowds of tourists and shoppers that bumped around her, and didn't stop until she more or less hit water. She was at the town pier. She walked out to the end of it — aware, vaguely, that she was in the company of hundreds of happy day-trippers — and looked over the edge. It was high tide: the water was dark and murky and stirred up by the wakes of passing boats. She stayed leaning over the dock railing for a long time, convinced she was going to be sick, not daring to risk walking the rest of the way to the Inn Between.

  Eventually a fog rolled in and it got clammy, and Meg turned reluctantly in the direction of the house where she'd been born and raised, the house that no longer seemed her home.

  She stepped into a different kitchen from the one she'd left. Comfort was there, cooking supper. She'd obviously heard about Meg's banishment, because she made a big, busy production of straining the spaghetti and didn't ask Meg where she'd been. Her father was in the sitting room, looking haggard and watching network news with limp attention; he looked up and with a forced smile said, "I just got back. She's coming around all right."

  Meg asked humbly, "Did she say I could see her?"

  The smile faded. "I'm sorry, Meggie." Everett Atwells looked suddenly too old and frail to witness such a gaping rift in his close-knit family. "I'll tell you what. You go with Comfort after dinner. Maybe when she sees you ..." His voice trailed off, unconvinced.

  Obviously they'd all figured out what had happened and had no idea what to do about it. Plan A would've been to go to Meg and ask her. There was no Plan B.

  The phone rang. Terry jumped up from his baseball cards to answer it. He dragged the phone to Meg and said, disappointed, "Don't worry, it isn't Tom."

  So the twins knew, too. It was the story of Meg's life: that she had no life. Not of her own, anyway. She sighed and said hello.

  "Meg? It's Dorothea."

  "Who?"

  "My dear, Dorothea Camplin. Why didn't you tell me you were a granddaughter of my nursemaid?" she said in her no- nonsense way. "I had no idea. It explains your curious interest in Eagle's Nest. I don't blame you a bit for asking, dear. Of course you'd want to know. You should have come st
raight out about it."

  The interview seemed so long ago, Meg could hardly remember it. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Camplin. I know I said I'd be back to photograph the garden. But my sister was in an accident—"

  Mrs. Camplin gasped. "Oh! Wait. Allison? No, Allegra, it was — Allegra Atwells! I read about it in the Times and never made the connection. How stupid of me! I'm so sorry to be bothering you at a time like this —"

  "Not at all. In fact, the news today was ... was very good. My sister's going to be all right. It was a little touch-and-go at first. Anyway, now that she won't be needing me as ... um ... much ..." Meg said, her lip beginning to quiver, "I'll be ..."

  She paused to regroup. "Well! I'll be over tomorrow if it stays overcast, and if that's all right with you. Otherwise, the next gray day."

  They agreed to that plan and Meg rang off. Dinner came and went in excrutiating silence, and after that Meg packed up her pride in a basket of flowers and went with Comfort to try to see Allie again.

  When they got to the hospital, Lloyd didn't look hopeful, and Meg didn't hope. She let Comfort go in ahead to intercede for her, but Comfort came out of Allie's room shortly afterward looking downcast.

  "Gosh," Meg said with bravado cheerfulness, "I feel like a skunk at a garden party."

  The worst of it was, Lloyd and Comfort seemed to agree with her. They didn't say so, of course. Comfort even put her arms around Meg and said, "Give her time." But no one said that Allie was being outrageous, because she wasn't. For the second time that day, Meg was being forced to walk away from everything she held dear and into a twilight zone as disorienting as the thick fog that lay in wait outside.

  Oddly, she felt less traumatized after this visit than the last one. Earlier, she'd had to endure the initial shock of rejection as well as the uncertainty of whether Allie was really lucid. Now Meg could be sure: Allie was not going to forgive the betrayal anytime soon.