Firebird (4 page)

“To the dorm attic.  The theater.  Juilliard’s rehearsal halls.”

“Juilliard?  She’s studying music?”

Sister Joseph Maureen stared at her in surprise.  “Dance.  She’s a ballet student in a special high school preparatory program.  It’s one of the reasons she chose our school.”

“I didn’t know...” 

The old nun smiled sadly.  “So you’ve never seen her dance.”

Alexandra shook her head.

“You should.  She attacks the stage, she
becomes
the music!  Such wildness in that young body, such fury!   You can’t take your eyes off her.  She may be tiny and slender, but when she moves – dear God, when she moves - her face, her arms, her legs mesmerize you.  The theater gets so quiet.  She can simply raise her hand, spread her fingers – and break your heart.”

The nun looked away.  “Even
before
she lost her mother, you could see her anger, feel the poor child’s pain.  But now - she dances like the devil’s inside her.”

Why didn’t I know
?  “All the more reason to find her.”

“We’ve checked the usual suspects.  And her good-for-nothing father’s no help.”  The dark cloth of the long habit whispered as the nun gestured sharply.  “Just where the devil - if you’ll pardon the expression -
is
her father these days?”

“The Galapagos, the Himalayas, who knows?   He walked out on my sister when Juliet was just a toddler.  We have no way to contact him.  I doubt he even knows about Eve’s death.”

“And his daughter is left in boarding school, all alone!”

“I should have realized, I should have been here for her.”  Alexandra looked down at her gripped hands.  “Rotten mother, rotten aunt,” she said to herself.

“You’re
human
, Alexandra.  And you’re here, aren’t you?  Now let’s think where Juliet could be.”

“I just don’t know.  My sister was always running off somewhere, and - clearly, I don’t know my niece at all.”  Unable to sit still, Alexandra stood and moved to the window, gazing down at the shadowed sidewalk of West 65th Street.

“My sister and I were estranged for a very long time.  I spent very little time with Jules when she was growing up.”

Just leave me and my daughter alone
!  she heard her sister say.

Alexandra shook her head.  “Eve and I tried to reconnect when she married Anthony Rhodes, but - ”  She let her words fall off.

“But your sister only called when she needed something.  Or when she was in trouble.”

“Which was often.”  Alexandra acknowledged the truth with a rueful shake of her head.  “After a while, it was easier to let the phone ring.  I just
stopped listening
.  I gave up on her, Mother.  And on Juliet, too.”

She looked down at her hands.  “At the funeral, Jules could barely look at me.  How could I blame her?  I hadn’t seen her in a very long time.” 

“Your niece may have thought it was her fault that you stopped coming to see her.” 

Alexandra stared at the nun.  “The night of her death, Eve called me.  She asked for help…  but I didn’t
believe
her!  Oh, God.  It’s no wonder Juliet blames me for not being there for her mom, for
her
, when things went bad.”

“You can’t un-ring a church bell, Alexandra.”

“That’s just it!  I didn’t try hard enough.  I didn’t just lose my sister.  I’ve lost my sister’s child!  I’ve hurt Juliet.  And I have only myself to blame.”

“Blame is a hard cross to bear.  Guilt even more so.”  The nun’s voice was gentle.  “You’ve taken a great deal on your shoulders, my child.”

Alexandra said nothing, simply stood looking out the window at the distant lights of Juilliard.  Then, “I’ve been a train wreck of a sister.”

“I wonder what your sister would say about that?  Perhaps you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.  Don’t close off your heart to -”

Alexandra spun around to face the nun.  “It’s more complicated than that, Mother.  My sister is
gone
!  She
took her life
, damn her, she
chose
to leave me.   And there’s no way I can make it
right
between us now...”  She stopped, breathless, ambushed by the guilt and anger that burned her throat.

“You think so?  That’s a lot to put on both of you.  But there are many roads to forgiveness, Alexandra.  And many more church bells out there, yet to be rung.  You only have to find them.  Or, in this case, her.” 

Find
her.   Juliet
.  Alexandra shook her head.  “I’ll look for her, Mother.  But I’m the last person Juliet wants in her life.”  And be honest, she admitted to herself, a rebellious run-away was the very last thing
she
needed right now.  Across Columbus Avenue, the lights of Lincoln Center and the Juilliard School shone in the darkness. 

She dances as if the devil’s inside her
.   Oh damn, thought Alexandra.  She squared her shoulders and turned back to the nun.  “You’re sure Juliet’s not at Juilliard?” 

“I called the rehearsal hall immediately.  No one has seen her since the mid-day rehearsal.”  The nun shook her head.  “She’s a teenager.  When she didn’t show up for dinner, I knew something was really wrong.”

“Her step-father,” Alexandra said suddenly.  “Anthony Rhodes is her legal guardian now.  He has homes in Washington and Virginia.  Jules loves his horses...”

“I spoke with him an hour ago.  He hasn’t seen her.   It was Ambassador Rhodes who suggested I call you.”  The nun glanced at the small clock on the desk.  “I’m supposed to call him back in twenty minutes.”

“Has she been having trouble with grades?  Girlfriends?  An argument with a boyfriend?  Has there been any marked change in her behavior?”

“Her grades are fine, she’s very bright.  Her behavior has always been…  irreverent, to put it kindly.  She’s in with a fast crowd - but if you’re asking about drugs, no, not Juliet.  As for friends -  your niece is not one who trusts easily.  She’s not one for close relationships.”  The nun lifted a narrow manila file from her desk, labeled Juliet Marik, and passed it to Alexandra.  “There’s something in here you should see.”

Alexandra caught her breath as she looked down at a small photograph clipped to the file cover - the green-eyed, heart-shaped face of her niece, framed by hair that fell like gold rain past the prim white schoolgirl’s collar.

“She looks just like her mother, doesn’t she?” said the nun gently. 

“What if she
didn’t
run away?  What if she’s sick?  Oh, God, what if some stranger - ”

“Don’t even think it!  This has to do with her mother’s death.  I was sitting behind you, at the funeral.  I saw how quiet Juliet was, how closed off.  All those flashbulbs popping in her face.”  The nun gestured toward the file.  “Open it.  It’s those newspapers I wanted you to see.  I  found them just before I called you, under her bed.”

Alexandra pulled her reading glasses from the small silk evening bag and slipped them over her eyes.  “Oh, no,” she murmured, staring down at the torn headlines. 
Washington Newswoman Found Shot.  Evangeline Rhodes Death Ruled Suicide
.  And the worst one of all, in huge letters across the front page of a local tabloid -
Cabbie took Vangie to Lookout of Death
. 

“When I saw these on the newsstands, Mother, I never thought how they would hurt Juliet.  Oh, I should have known, how could I be so...”

“There’s more, Alexandra.  After the funeral, I gave Juliet a letter from her mother.”

“There was a letter from Eve?”

“Yes.  Your sister sent a sealed envelope to me, just before she died.  For Juliet.  I thought it would give the poor child some solace...”  The nun’s voice trailed off.

“Solace was never my sister’s strong suit.”  As Alexandra shifted with frustration, several photographs tucked into Juliet’s collection of newspapers slipped to the floor.  

Alexandra bent to gather the pictures.  Haunting, moody images of a shuttered house balanced high on a cliff.

“Eve took these,” murmured Alexandra, recognizing the house immediately. “Oh, God!  It wasn’t ‘Cliv.’ Eve was trying to say ‘
Cliff
!’  Cliff House.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The night Eve called me, she left an indecipherable message.  Told me to go to ‘cliv’.  She must have meant Cliff House.  Our childhood home, on an island off the coast of Maine.  No one has lived there permanently for years, not since Eve’s divorce from Juliet’s father.  Juliet’s gone to Cliff House.”

“A deserted house on an island?  But surely there would be no heat, no lights.  No food.”

“We’re talking about
Jules
, Mother.  She’s almost sixteen.  Street-smart, more independent than most kids - and God knows her mother gave her access to some very serious money.”

“Guilt money!” snorted the Mother Superior.

“When you’re scared, you go somewhere you’ll feel safe.”  Suddenly hopeful, Alexandra rushed on.  “Juliet and Eve both
loved
that house - every nook and cranny and hidden stairwell.  She’s gone to Cliff House, I’m sure of it!”

The nun reached for her phone.  “Let me contact the local police in Maine.”

Alexandra shook her head.  “We both know that teens have their own code when it comes to not trusting authority.  Jules would never let them find her.  She’ll bolt, disappear.  No, I have to go myself.  It’s the very least I can do for my sister.”

“What is it, child?  Do you have someone to take care of your little girl while you’re in Maine?”

“Her nanny.”  Alexandra looked away, then forced a smile.  “Eve would want me to go after her daughter.  When you call Anthony Rhodes - just tell him I know where Jules has gone.  And that I’ll bring her home.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” muttered the old nun.  “God speed, my child.” 

“Thank you, Mother.”  Alexandra flung her cloak around her shoulders.  “I’ll leave for Maine within the hour.  I’ll find Juliet.  I won’t let anything happen to her. 
I won’t let her down this time
.” 

She closed the door softly behind her and hurried down the stairs.

* * * *

The Mother Superior moved to the mullioned window.  Racing clouds shadowed the narrow sidewalk of West 65th Street.  Then Alexandra Marik appeared beneath the bare tree branches like an apparition in her long velvet cloak.  Determined, yes.  But so angry.  So lost.  And very alone in the darkness.  “You’ve been hurt, Alexandra, but you’re stronger than you think,” whispered the nun.

She watched as a taxi slowed, angled toward the curb.  High above the city, the clouds parted like a curtain.  A shaft of pale moonlight lit the slender woman in the street below, and the nun was struck with sudden, inexplicable foreboding.

The door slammed and the cab pulled away from the curb.  The old nun turned to look at the carved figure on the wooden cross above her desk. 

“I hope You know what You’re doing,” she murmured. 

CHAPTER 4

“...the brightness of a ruby...”

T. Junichiro

“I’d take you with me if I could.”

Alexandra stood in the small shadowed bedroom of her Greenwich Village apartment, watching her daughter sleep.   Delicate fingers curled, red lashes on pale cheeks, her skin as glowing as a Renoir child.  The tiny chest moving with each soft breath beneath the dancing pink kittens on her footed pajamas.  How many nights, she wondered, have I stood just like this, watching my daughter’s face and listening to her breathe?

Born prematurely just after Alexandra’s fortieth birthday, after an unexpected and dangerous pregnancy, Ruby had suffered through a difficult nineteen months.  But the tiny red-head was a fighter - and now, finally, she was gaining weight.

I wish I could tell you no one will ever hurt you, Ruby
.

As Alexandra bent to tuck the quilt around her child, her fingers found Ruby’s hand, warm and soft with sleep, and moved against the tiny palm.  “Mama’s here,” whispered Alexandra, touching her lips to the powdery cheek.  “You know I don’t want to leave you.  But I have no choice, sweetheart.” 

Her sister’s voice, her breathless message, had warned of danger.

“Your cousin might be in trouble.  You’ll be much safer here with Liv and her brother.  And I made you a promise, Ruby, remember?  I will do
anything
to keep you safe.  To see you not hurt…”  She pressed her lips gently to Ruby’s forehead.  “I love you all the way up to the sky,” she whispered.

Ruby stirred and sighed as, with one final glance, Alexandra slipped from the room.

Her bedroom was next to Ruby’s.  Quiet greys and blues, art books piled by an easy chair, the running stroller propped in the corner.  Moonlight lit the iron safety bars outside the window and fell in sharp shadows across a blank canvas propped on an easel.

Alexandra looked with longing at the stroller.  All I’ve ever wanted, she thought, was a quiet, normal life with my child.  She closed the curtains, kicked off her heels and clicked on the bedside radio.

“…and the  investigation of the spy network,” the reporter was saying, “has extended from Washington, D.C., to Boston.  Already ten arrests have been made, with more expected.  Many of these alleged spies have lived in deep cover on the East Coast for decades, and are accused of obtaining information for Russia’s intelligence organization, the SVR, on the U.S. Arms Reduction position in advance of the President’s planned trip to St. Petersburg in December for the Nuclear Summit.”

Deep cover spies?  Alexandra shook her head.  My sister dies, she thought, but the world has the audacity to go on. 

“In a related story,” continued the reporter, “with less than two weeks until the election, Republican Vice Presidential nominee Senator David Rossinski today voiced concern over Russia’s growing influence in the Middle East  -”

Alexandra spun the dial to classical music, then pulled a worn duffle bag from her closet.

There was a quick tap at the door.  Olivia, Ruby’s nanny, and now a close friend of Alexandra’s, peered into the bedroom, her dark braid swinging forward over an ample shoulder.  “I’ve just made us some green tea.”