Possessions

by Judith Michael

  Late that night, Derek called. Katherine had not seen or heard from him in the two weeks since he told her the story of the sailing accident. "I understand you and my grandmother bought out Gump's this afternoon."

  She smiled to herself. "Aren't you the one who made a comment about the joys of a large family?"

  "I am. But a grapevine is often valuable. Did I wake you?'*

  "No, why?"

  "You sound subdued and it's after midnight."

  "I'm woricing on a new design."

  "And?"

  "I shouldn't be so glad to hear from you."

  "Victoria told me you'd been transformed," he said. "But evidently you still say what you think."

  Katherine picked up a pencil and began to shade in the bracelet she was drawing.

  "Are you still there?" he asked.

  "Yes, of course."

  "I am looking at a stack of invitations for parties between now and New Year's Eve. Most of them will be dull. A few will be interesting if you're with me. Are you free between now and the New Year?"

  "Derek, it's only the middle of December."

  "What does that have to do with it?"

  "I don't know what I'll be doing. I have to spend time with my children; I have to work at night—oh, you don't know that; I have an order ftxjm Herman Mettler—^"

  "He told me."

  "He told you?"

  "I was in his store the other day and he mentioned it. Kath-185

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  erine, I have before me invitations to two cocktail parties, three dinners, and a New Year's carnival. I will accept them if you will be with me. The dates are—"

  Automatically, as he listed them, she jotted them down beside the drawing of the bracelet. "Derek, that order from Mettler is very important to me."

  "Of course it is." Smoothly his voice changed, as if he had moved closer. "And I should be congratulating you. How many pieces?"

  "Twelve."

  "A good start. When will they be in the store?"

  "Spring, he said. If he likes them."

  "He knows what he's getting, from your samples. I wouldn't wony. Can you be in front of Heath's at five thirty on Tuesday? Cocktails and dinner in Portola Valley and it's over an hour's drive at that time of day."

  His voice was like a long ocean wave, sweeping everything before it. Katherine drew a box around the dates he had read to her, looked away from Craig's picture, and said she could.

  She had only the black dress. She skipped lunch the next day to search through a vintage clothing store she had seen advertised, and took home a high-necked lace blouse, an exquisite velvet and silk patchwork vest, missing some buttons, a white tunic, loosely woven of gossamer wool, a belt of hammered bronze medallions, a cranberry-red fringed shawl, and a filmy silk scarf, long and trailing, in blues and pinks. In Heath's junior department she found a deep green velvet skirt that came just to her ankles. And on Tuesday, after work, she changed in Heath's washroom into the velvet skirt and lace blouse and the patchwork vest, newly fitted with mother-of-pearl buttons.

  Combing her hair in front of the mirror, Katherine thought of her children, who depended on her; the jewelry she was making, that would someday earn her living; Victoria, who loved her, Derek, who would spin her through December's festivities—and when she walked from the store, her head was high not only because of her clothes and hair and makeup, but also because she was beginning to believe in herself.

  Her pleasure was reflected in Derek's face as she stepped into his car. "Victoria understated it," he said, taking her hand,

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  but a cacophony of angry homs and shouts from other cars forced him to pay attention to driving. At the first stoplight he looked at her ftilly. "Stunning. You've learned to be dramatic. If you'd looked like this ten years ago my poor cousin would have been too intimidated even to come close, much less propose. And if by chance he did make it, you'd have looked past him for something better."

  Katherine's face clouded as Derek turned away, shifting gears to move with the traffic. She smoothed her velvet skirt, the excitement she had felt all day crumbling beneath his casual contempt. "Derek—take me home," she said tightly. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to go, after all."

  He drove on without speaking, then swung the car to the curb and stopped. "Because I spoke unkindly of my cousin?"

  "Because you spoke with contempt—of my husband."

  Surprise flashed across his face, then was gone. "I've never disguised the fact that Craig and I were not friends. You like to romanticize the idea of a family, but you can't seriously imagine that sharing a last name automatically brings love. Should I pretend that Craig and I were intimate, loving, filled with respect and admiration and mutuality of interests, when none of that was true? Or should I tell you openly that we never liked each other, and that now, knowing he ran off fifteen years ago, and last summer deserted you and your children, I am less likely than ever to think well of him? Which would you have me say?"

  "Neither," she said almost inaudibly.

  "No. Neither would please you. But neither would it please you to go home now. Let me suggest" —putting his hand beneath her chin, he leaned over to kiss her lightly— "that I promise not to speak of Craig again; that we go to this affair in Portola; and if you feel uncomfortable, with me or with anyone who asks about Craig, we will leave on the instant. Is that acceptable?"

  A weight lifted. If he made no demands on her and did not force her to choose between loyalty to Craig and going out with him, she could relax. "Yes," she said. "Thank you."

  He kept his promise that night and a few nights later at a dinner party in a penthouse on Russian Hill when, for the first time, Katherine was completely at ease in a glittering crowd. No longer were eyebrows raised when Derek introduced her;

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  instead there were admiring appraisals. "Vancouver," sonoeone said at dinner. "I was there once. Pleasant. Though not quite cosmopolitan, you know. Perhaps it was the lack of our chann-ing hilltop houses."

  "We do have some," Katherine said seriously. "Every city has people who need to be looked up to."

  After a tiny pause, there was a shout of laughter from everyone but the critic of Vancouver. Katherine was flushed and Derek contemplated her thoughtfully as the other guests began to vie for her attention. By the time dinner had ended and they were dancing, Katherine felt swept up, as if the long slow wave of Derek's voice had become a heavy surf, drowning her everyday problems. Nothing seemed unmanageable. Even Craig's shadow was obscured by the brilliance around her and her mcreasing confidence. She floated on the swell of voices and laughter, the gleam of candles and diamonds and admiration, Derek's absorbed look, his hand on her arm and his dark blond presence, smooth and remote. She floated timelessly, and nothing seemed impossible.

  Two days before Christmas, she was brought back to earth at a buffet supper in Mill Valley.

  When they had eaten, a magician entertained the fifty guests with sleights of hand and fortune-telling. Moving about the room, he reached Katherine. "You have seen much sadness," he boomed portentously. "You will also see joy. You will hold gold and silver in your hands and a man will come from far away to fall at your feet and beg you to love him and let him live with you."

  The others laughed and applauded but Katherine sat frozen. It doesn't mean anything, she told herself. He could have said that to anyone; no one takes these things seriously. But still it was uncanny. She looked at Derek, who smiled slightly. "He is less a magician," he murmured, "than you are an enchantress." Instinctively, Katherine drew back. "God damn it," he exclaimed. "Must you feel guilty every time— T He stopped and took her hand, kissing it lightly. "We'll talk later."

  It was as if his lips had brushed her whole body, arousing her with a touch. But the magician had brought Craig back, pulling her in the direction of her memories, and she forced herself to sit unmoving, almost not breathing, until the rush of desire subsided. And when they left, Craig we
nt with them;

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  she could barely say goodnight to Derek, because Craig was in the way, hurrying her inside. She closed the door and huddled on the couch. What will I do if he falls at my feet and begs me to love him and let him live with me?

  They had always made their own Christmas presents. Craig liked to shop, but Jennifer and Todd made presents in school, and Katherine made jewelry or designed and knit sweaters. This year, when they had to make gifts because they couldn't afford to buy them, Jennifer and Todd grumbled as they set up a tree that was half as big, Todd complained, as the ones they'd had in Vancouver.

  "This room is half the size of the one we had in Vancouver," Katherine said mildly. "And it would be pleasant if you stopped making a fuss about everything." She opened the box of ornaments they had brought from Canada. "You act as if you'd buy me a mink coat if things had been different."

  "Well, maybe I would," said Todd defiantly. "Or something like it. Daddy always bought you fancy things."

  Oh, yes, Katherine thought. A shearling coat one year, a cashmere robe another, an antique sterhng silver and enamel dresser set another. "I don't need fancy things," she told Todd. "Just us, being together."

  Scowling, Todd hung ornaments on the small tree. "I wish Dad was here!" he burst out. "Why isn't he here?"

  Katherine put her arms around him. "I wish I knew." She thought of all their other Christmases, when Craig sang lusty carols, put up a huge tree in the living room, and wreaths on all the doors, and hung six-foot stockings at the fireplace. Christmas was a time, he said, when everyone could be a child and celebrate having a family—the most precious of all their possessions. It was a time for love.

  "I waited for him all day," said Jennifer. With careful precision she hung the last smiling angel on the top of the tree. "I kept thinking. Now he'll walk in the door."

  "Me too." Todd sat on the couch, glumly picking at a scab on his arm. "Every time I heard somebody outside I thought it was Dad." His eyes filled with tears. "E)on't people always come home at Christmas? I mean—isn't that the whole idea?"

  Jennifer plopped down beside him. "We shouldn't even have Christmas. It's a fake, without a Daddy."

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  "It's a fake to have Christinas Eve," Todd said, "when you don't make cookies and things with your mother 'cause she's gone."

  "At work," Katherine said defensively. "I had no choice; I explained that to you; I tried to get the day off, but I couldn't."

  "So Todd and I had to do everything," Jennifer said to the ceiling, asking for sympathy. "Except, Annie helped us make cookies. And we're going to read the story ourselves." She pulled a book from beneath a cushion. "Surprised?" She looked a challenge at Katherine. "Did you think we'd forget?" Without waiting for an answer, she opened it to the first page and loudly began to read. "'Marley was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that.'"

  But after two pages, she burst into tears. "I can't do it!" She threw the book across the room. "I hate it and I'm never going to read it again!"

  Katherine bent to pick up the book and smoothed the creased pages. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Every year Craig had read it aloud on Christmas Eve. Then they would eat dinner and open their presents.

  "We had a tradition," Jennifer sobbed. "And now we don't anymore."

  "Not now," Katherine agreed quietly. "We don't have it right now." She sat with them on the couch. "But we can't stop our life from changing. It started to change the day Daddy didn't come home, and it will keep on until he's with us again. And we're going to change, too, because everybody changes; we can't stop that, either, because we're alive. If we didn't keep busy and happy with new friends and new experiences it would be as if we'd died."

  "What if we change too much?" Jennifer asked.

  "We'll still be us. When Daddy comes back, we'll keep some of the new things we've done and we'll drop others, but we'll still be the same people. Does that make sense?" They looked at her dubiously. "Well, think about it. But in the meantime, we can't sit around crying and complaining all the time. If we do, we'll be as wrinkled as prunes, and then how would Daddy recognize us?"

  Todd perked up. "Prunes!" A smile broke through the gloom. "Daddy would come to the door and say 'Who is this? I thought Katherine Eraser and Jennifer Eraser and Todd Eraser live here

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  but who is this?' And I'd say, Tm Todd.' And he'd say, 'Oh, no, Todd is four feet nine inches tall and he looks like a boy. In fact he looks like me.' And I'd say, 'I'm Todd the talking prune. Eleven inches tall because I cried all my juices out.' And Daddy would say—"

  "Oh, shut up!" Jennifer shouted. "Who cares about your stupid stories? Daddy isn't coming home ever again and I wish you'd turn into a prune and disappear into the garbage can, 'cause it's nothing to joke about!"

  "Jennifer!" Katherine made her voice firm and unhesitating. "Your father will come back as soon as he can and in the meantime I expect you to behave yourself and help Todd instead of jumping all over him. Now, I want to open my Christmas presents and watch you open yours and then we're going to Victoria's for dinner. And whatever happens in the future I don't want to hear you yell at your brother or me again because we're doing the best we can. Is that clear?"

  Her mouth open, Jennifer stared at her. "You never talked like that before."

  "I'm trying to keep things together around here," Katherine said bluntly. "And I'd like a little help instead of having to fight every step of the way. You're not the only ones who are unhappy, you know."

  "We don't go to parties all the time," Jennifer said.

  "No, but—" Must you feel guilty every time? Derek had asked. "You're right; you don't and I've gone to a few. But we're all going to one tonight, and I'll bet we find a stack of presents waiting for us. Now do we open these presents? Or do we wait until tomorrow?"

  "NO!" yelled Todd and lunged toward the small pile beneath the tree.

  More slowly, Jennifer followed. But by the time she and Todd unwrapped the zippered sweaters Katherine had knit them on her lunch hours, she was almost smiling. Katherine exclaimed in delight over the carved wooden candlesticks Jennifer had made in shop, varnished to a shining butternut finish, and the clay paperweight model of the Golden Gate Bridge that Todd had made and painted a bilious orange. By then, they were friends again.

  Leslie and Bruce had joined forces to fill a box with Dungeons & Dragons books for Todd and Jennifer. Todd lay on

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  his stomach and plunged into them. "This is for you," Jennifer said and watched as Katherine opened a large box and sat in stunned silence. "For New Year's Eve," the card said. "Compliments of Heath's, Leslie and Bruce. Have a ball."

  "Oh," Jennifer sighed in a long breath as Katherine held up the dress—a billowing white taffeta skirt and a black lace top, the collar a high lace ruffle, the sleeves ending in lace ruffles two inches long. "More parties," Jennifer said, but she could not resist the dress. "It's so beautiful! Will you save it, so I can wear it someday?"

  "Of course," Katherine said. "But you'll have your own wonderful dresses by then." She held the dress and imagined herself wearing it, dancing in it. Folding it carefully in its box, she thought. New Year's Eve. With Derek.

  She caught herself. A new year. Promises and resolutions. Without Craig.

  "We'd better go!" she cried, springing to her feet. "The whole family is going to be there and Victoria does not like people to be late to her parties!"

  They hurried. Jennifer and Todd were thinking of a stack of presents, but Katherine, with thoughts of a new year, was reflecting that she had lied to her children. How could anything ever be the same again? If Craig came home tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day, how could they pick up their lives and behave as if they were the same people? They couldn't; of course they couldn't. She'd lied, to herself as well as Jennifer and Todd.

  She felt a moment of panic. We've gone too far. They couldn't find their way back; they woul
d all have to begin again. Her stomach was churning as it had when everything was coming to a close in Vancouver; all this time she'd thought they could pick up the pieces of that other life and put them together again, but now that had come to a close, too. She could only go forward. It felt, Katherine thought, as if she were lost again, looking for guideposts and a helping hand.

  But on the bus she told herself it wasn't the same. She was learning to find her own guideposts. And for a helping hand— if she wanted, she had more than one waiting for her. At a family Christmas dinner at Victoria's.

  Victoria answered the door, wearing a full-length gown of silver-blue Italian silk velvet, and greeting Katherine with an

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  embrace so warm that everyone was reminded of her carefully correct one only six months earlier. Coming up behind her, Derek took Katherine's hand with a familiarity both exciting and disconcerting. Todd and Jennifer were gone in an instant, taken by Carrie and Jon to see their new Lionel train, set up in the study, leaving Katherine, as before, to face the rest of the family.

  There were greetings and kisses. "Oh, my, oh, my," said Tobias, kissing her on both cheeks. " 'A lovely lady, garmented in light from her own beauty.' Shelley, my dear, and you are a poet's dream. May I bring you champagne?"

  But Derek was ahead of him. He brought Katherine a brimming glass and a plate of oysters and celeriac. "Are you occupied with Tobias or can we finish a conversation we began the other night?"

  "Derek," said Tobias gravely. "I am overcome by your subtlety. But I am leaving; I must search for a book."

  "The tiniest bit rude," Katherine said lightly. "Or do I exaggerate?" She saw Ross watching her with a frown. But Derek's hand was on her arm.

  "Only a trifle. Shall we finish that conversation?"

  Melanie was standing by herself, near the piano. When Katherine looked at her, their eyes met.

  "Derek," Victoria said, coming up to them. "Will you help Tobias search the library? He seems to have lost Dickens."