Enter, Night (20 page)

Morgan shrugged. “It was OK, I guess. Nobody was mean, but
nobody talked to me, either. There was a nice lady in the front office, and
the principal was OK, too.” She paused, unsure of how to say what she
was about to say next. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey? What is it?”

“Mom, did grandmother tell everyone that I’m illegitimate? Because
it was weird, but the principal kept talking about ‘lifestyle choices’ that
you and Dad made back when I was born, and it was like everyone else
was walking on eggshells with me because my last name is Parr. You
were
married when I was born, right?”

Christina felt a wave of murderous fury towards Adeline pass
through her, though she kept her face entirely neutral at that moment
for Morgan’s sake. She forced her voice to a calm register that was
entirely at odds with how she felt, and swore again that if it was the
last thing she did, she would get away from this town—and Adeline—
at the first available opportunity. “Did someone actually say something,
sweetheart?”

“No,” Morgan said thoughtfully. “Not in so many words. But
everyone’s treating me like I’m some sort of case who needs all this
special care and protection. Why are they doing that?”

Christina felt as though shards of glass were exploding inside her,
but she forced herself to smile. She sat down on the edge of the bed and
reached for her daughter’s hand. Morgan looked desperately young to
Christina just then, and her heart broke.

“Morgan, first of all—
yes,
your father and I were married when we
had you. We weren’t married when you were conceived. We told you all
about that. But you weren’t a ‘mistake’ by any stretch of the imagination,
either. Your father and I loved each other very much. He wanted to marry
me very much, and I wanted to marry him very much. We were married
as soon as we arrived in Toronto, before I was even showing with you.
You have nothing—nothing, do you hear me—to be ashamed of. I don’t
believe your grandmother told people that you were illegitimate,” she
lied, “but I do think that small-town people have a hard time, sometimes,
understanding things that go differently than they think things ought
to. They may be confused about things. I know this town very well, and
there’s a really good reason why I haven’t been back in fifteen years, aside
from the fact that your dad never wanted to. Would you like me to speak
to your teachers about it, sweetheart? Are you worried about getting
flack from the kids?”

That’ll be next,
Christina thought, with a familiar sickening lurch in
her stomach.
That’ll be next. Just like it was for Jack and me—the townie
whore getting above herself with the Crown Prince of Parr’s Landing. What
does that make Morgan? A princess? A bastard? Or both?

“No,” Morgan replied quickly. “I’m not worried. And you don’t need
to talk to the teachers. It’ll be OK. I just wanted to . . . well, I just wanted
to tell you about school. That’s all. It’s all fine. I’m sorry I even brought
it up. You and Dad did tell me all this stuff before, I know. I just needed
to hear it again.” She looked down. When she looked up again, Morgan’s
eyes were slick with tears. “Mom?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Mom, I miss Daddy something fierce.” Morgan’s shoulders began to
shake. “I miss him
so much
. . .”

Christina’s own eyes flooded. She stood up and took Morgan in
her arms and rocked her as she had when she was a baby and they wept
together, holding each other.

“I miss him, too, sweetheart. I miss him more than I ever thought
could be possible to miss someone. Your daddy was everything to me,
and he loved both of us more than anything else in the world. And I love
you more than anything else in the world. Nothing is more important to
me than you, Morgan.
Nothing
. You know that, right?”

Morgan sniffled. “Yes,” she said in a thick voice. “Yes, I believe you. I
love you, too, Mommy.” Her face was buried in the hollow of her mother’s
shoulder. When Christina reached up to caress Morgan’s hair, the wool of
Morgan’s sweater was soaked with her tears, which seemed grafted to the
soft skin of her clavicle.

There was a knock on the door of the bedroom.
Oh God, please, not
her. Not Adeline. Not right now. Just a few more minutes, please
. The knock
came again, more gently this time, and Jeremy’s voice carried through
the thick mahogany door.

“Chris? Morgan? May I come in?”

Christina and Morgan parted reluctantly. Christina squeezed
Morgan’s hand once more, then smoothed her hair and said, “Come in,
Jeremy.”

“Come on in, Uncle Jeremy,” Morgan called out, as though
determined to show her mother that she was in control again and that
her mother wasn’t to worry about her any more than she already did.

“Oh . . . I’m sorry,” Jeremy said when he saw their faces. “I’m so
sorry, you guys. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that dinner is about
to be served and Adeline is already down there. Just . . . well, do you want
me to tell her you’re not coming, or that you’re sick or something?” He
looked beseechingly from Christina to Morgan, then back to Christina
again.

Morgan said in a clear voice, “No, Uncle Jeremy. We’re all right.
We’re coming right down. I’m just going to put some water on my face.
I’ll only be a second.”

She stood up and walked into the bathroom. Through the closed
door, Christina and Jeremy heard the tap being turned on, then the
sound of water hitting the porcelain sink.

“Is she all right?” Jeremy whispered. “Did she have a bad day at
school? Goddamn it, I knew we should have taken her ourselves. This is
all too much for her and too fast. I should never have let Adeline steamroll
over us like that this morning.”

“She’s all right.” Christina sighed, massaging her eyes with her
fingertips. “She just had a moment.”

Jeremy looked worried. “You, too, huh? Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry.
Again. I keep saying that, but I really am. I feel like crap for you, really I
do.”

“How do I look?” she said briskly, pushing his sympathy away,
knowing that she couldn’t bear to feel anything at this exact moment if
she was going to survive their dinner with Adeline. “I put mascara on this
morning, but I think it’s all rubbed off by now.” She crossed to the mirror
over Morgan’s vanity. She squinted, touching her eyelashes gingerly. “Not
very bright in here, is it? I’m sure your mother looks immaculate, like she
just fell out of
Miss Chatelaine
. Well, an old issue of
Miss Chatelaine
. A
very old issue.”

Jeremy laughed. “You look fine. Maybe some cold water when
Morgan’s finished? Are you sure you want to go downstairs, you two? I’m
serious, I can just tell her that you’re not feeling well after the long drive.
I’m sure she’d send Beatrice up with a tray.”

“Listen to us.” Christina laughed mirthlessly. “‘I’m sure she’d send
Beatrice up with a tray.’ The fact that it would even be a question answers
it. She might or she might not. No, better that we go downstairs and
deal with her face to face. I’m sure Morgan will be all right. She doesn’t
have the same problems with that old bitch that we do. And somehow I
have to normalize life for her, and it has to start right now. God knows
what Adeline has told people about us. Morgan said that everyone was
treating her with kid gloves today. She doesn’t think it was for any good
reason. She asked me if I thought her grandmother had told people she
was illegitimate. I have no trouble seeing the hand of Adeline in that, and
if she did, I’ll never forgive her.”

Jeremy looked at this watch. “It’s six thirty-five,” he said. “We’d
better get down there.”

The bathroom door opened and Morgan stepped out. Her face
was clean and her hair was combed. Christina noticed that Morgan had
darkened her lips with a trace of the black raspberry Bonne Bell Lip
Smacker she’d gotten for her last birthday from Christina after much
pleading to be allowed to wear makeup. Morgan hadn’t worn lip gloss
at all since Jack died, or indeed cared much about her appearance at all
besides basic grooming and cleanliness, as though with her father gone,
there was no one for whom to look particularly pretty. Jack had always
told Morgan she was beautiful, so her disinterest in how she presented
herself was an additional constant reminder to Christina of their
bereavement. But now, Morgan looked at her mother with a lovingly
critical eye and said, “Mom, you’d better clean up, too. You know how she
is. Your mascara’s running. You look like a raccoon.”

“You’re
late,” Adeline said,
raising her eyebrows. “All of you. It’s six
forty-five. I told you I expected you downstairs, on time, at six-thirty
for dinner.” She sat at one end of the dining table framed in candlelight
from the silver candelabra that were placed on the sideboard and on the
table itself. She wore a well-tailored black dress and a necklace of simple
but consequential pearls. Not for the first time, Christina marvelled at
how her mother-in-law managed, at whatever hour of the day or night,
to look exactly like a lacquered mannequin that had just been placed in a
dress shop window.

“I’m sorry, Grandmother,” Morgan said, before either Christina or Jeremy could say anything. “It was my fault. I lost track of the time.
It won’t happen again.” Christina looked gratefully at her daughter,
knowing that Morgan had deliberately spoken first, intuiting correctly
that if anyone would escape the wrath of Adeline Parr over the grave
offence of being late for dinner, it was her granddaughter.

For her part, Adeline’s smile was frosty, but there was an
unmistakable sense of a storm having passed without actually touching
down. “Punctuality is a very important virtue, Morgan,” she said. “It
bespeaks a great deal about a person’s character. It’s very likely that you
didn’t have much of a need for it in your old life, but when you are under
my roof, you’ll learn to comport yourself responsibly as befitting a proper
young lady. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Please sit down, dear.” She glanced at Christina and Jeremy and
nodded curtly. “You two may sit, as well.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Jeremy said dryly. “It’s wonderful that we can
all sit down as a family and enjoy each other’s company like this.”

Jeremy sat down and unfolded his napkin, placing it in his lap.
Morgan and Christina followed his lead and did the same. When they
were seated, Beatrice began to serve. Dinner that night was to be poached
fish and asparagus. It wasn’t until the silver lid of the monogrammed
sterling silver chafing dishes were removed that Christina realized how
hungry she was. The asparagus was fresh, a delicate green beneath a
sliver of melting butter. She wondered where on earth Adeline Parr was
able to get fresh asparagus in Parr’s Landing in October.

“That smells wonderful, Beatrice,” Christina ventured. “Is it
haddock?”

“It’s
perch,
” Adeline snapped. “Haddock indeed. Does it look like
haddock to you, Christina? Does it? Does it
smell
like haddock to you?
Have you ever poached a fish in your life? For the Lord’s own sake.”

“Adeline, I just wondered—”

Jeremy laughed out loud, drawing Adeline’s fire away from Christina
and onto himself. “How many fish have you poached in
your
life, Mother?
Ever since I can remember, Beatrice has done the cooking around here.
Like Christina, I didn’t know it was perch or haddock, either. I guess
the best way to tell what sort of fish is being served for dinner at Parr
House is to ask the cook. By the way, Beatrice,” he said, deftly shifting
the attention again, this time towards the housekeeper, “my sister-in-law is right. It does smell delicious. I have to tell you, all those years away in
Toronto, the thing I missed most about Parr’s Landing was your cooking.”

“Oh, Mr. Jeremy,” Beatrice said. “You were always the charmer. Have
some of the veg. It’s a lovely bit of asparagus.”

Adeline cleared her throat and shook her head almost imperceptibly
at the housekeeper. Beatrice lowered her eyes and pressed her lips
together. She went on with the dinner service in silence.

“And how was your first day at Matthew Browning, Morgan? Did
you have a useful and productive day?”

“It was very nice, Grandmother,” Morgan said. “Thank you.”

“Did you learn anything today that you’d like to share with us?”

“Not really, Grandmother,” she said. “But I liked the school very
much.”

“Did you meet your principal? What was his name, Mr. Murphy?”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Morgan said. “He was very nice to me. He made
me feel very welcome.”

“Did you make any new friends, honey?” Jeremy said gently, reaching
for Morgan’s hand. “How did you like the kids? Did they treat you well?

Morgan turned to her uncle, grateful for the warmth of the question
after Adeline’s staccato interrogation. “Not at school, Uncle Jeremy. I
mean,” she said, glancing at her mother, “they were very nice at school.
But I met this kid after school. Well . . . he met me, really. I think he was
waiting for me after school and we started to talk.”

“He was waiting for you? How did he know who you were?”

“I don’t know, Uncle Jeremy,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. He
knew I was new in town and he walked me home. He’s younger than me.
Twelve, I think.”

“A boy?” Adeline said. “You let a strange boy walk you home?”

“He wasn’t strange, Grandmother. He was really nice.”

“What was his name, Morgan?” Christina said. “I wonder if Jeremy
and I know any of his family from when we lived here?”

“It doesn’t matter what his
name
is,” Adeline said sharply. “Morgan,
you are never,
ever
to let young men you don’t even know walk you home.
It’s not done. There’s been enough gossip about this family over the
years. I won’t have more of it now, in the new generation. Do I make
myself clear?”