The Angry Woman Suite (31 page)

“And now I want to talk with my father. I saw him come in with you. Would you bring him to me, please?”

Oh, she was good, very good. In fact, they didn’t come much better. But I thought I saw a trace of the old vulnerability in the tightness of Magdalene’s mouth, the shadows under her eyes. And that’s when I knew she was hiding something.

Which only served to make me feel even more alive.

I smiled in my best derisive manner and left her then, employing a suitable I-could-give-a-shit swagger, and I fetched Lear, and what he and Magdalene discussed in that lobby I didn’t know, stuck as I was back at the table with Sahar and Lothian making like nothing had happened. As if I didn’t know Matthew was somewhere in that ballroom smoking a stogie, watching, probably even taking bets on the cat and mouse
he’d
no doubt set up.

As if I didn’t know something rare was coming down the pike.

I looked at Jamie on that stage and suppressed another smile, quelling the happy jiggle of my leg under the table. As if I didn’t know
Jamie
was also playing both sides of the fiddle, and just as well, just as thoroughly, as he’d learned to play most everything else.

As if I didn’t know Jamie, my perfect boy, was like his father, my fallen hero.

Magdalene was the first to move back to Chadds Ford.

“It’s not fair, Mr. Madsen!” Lothian cried. “It’s the end of everything!”

I’d just returned from a week’s stay in Philadelphia, where I’d been presented a Man of the Year Award by the Delaware Valley Industrial Editors, and juggling coat, suitcase and keys, I’d yet to even get my front door open. Lothian threw her bicycle to the ground. Her bobbed hair rippled with cowlicks, and her normally fair skin was mottled. She looked, uncharacteristically, a fright.

“It’s not fair!” she yelled again.

I unlocked the door and set my belongings just inside. Although Lothian had generally exhibited a fairly even temperament as a youngster, I’d seen these same flashes of drama in my classroom. I wasn’t unduly concerned.

Lothian wiped her eyes and swept inside Washington’s Headquarters, plopping herself down on a chair at the table, where she folded herself over at the waist, forehead colliding with knees.

“What is it?” I asked with practiced patience. “What isn’t fair?” My head ached, and I hoped she’d be quick about it, so I could be equally quick dispensing words of wisdom and getting her out the door and myself in a hot bath, gin in hand. Lothian looked up, eyes wild.

“Magdalene!”
she wailed. The blood pounded sudden and hard in my ears. I dropped into a chair and steeled myself for the worst: an accident, an illness, another marriage.

“Okay.”

“She’s moved back!”

“What?”

“Yes! And as if having crazy Stella in my family isn’t enough to bear, now Magdalene’s back in Chadds Ford and ruining everything!”

“For a visit, you mean?”

“No, she’s come to stay, Mr. Madsen! And it’s the end of everything! It is! I know it is! My life is never going to be the same!”

I kept my expression neutral. “From the top. And no hysteria, please. No one’s died.”

Lothian replied that
she
might just as well have died, because Magdalene had arrived the week before, with trunks and dozens of suitcases, not to mention that boy Earl, who was as sullen as they come, and she’d taken over, throwing her stuff around and putting on airs and locking herself up with their father in his office, as if they shared something only the two of them could know. And did I realize how that made the rest of them feel? Did I just realize? Like outsiders, that’s how! And in
their
own house. But of course Magdalene had never thought of anyone but herself. She’d never considered the ramifications of her actions. Magdalene had always been self-centered.

I looked at my hands folded on the table in front of me.

“And Mama’s in a horrible mood,” Lothian sniffled, fishing in her pocket, “because of the way Magdalene’s got everybody upset. And Stella’s acting crazier than ever.” Lothian looked over the handkerchief she’d produced. “Stella does that sometimes: acts crazy. She’s been fawning over that stupid Earl like there’s no tomorrow. Won’t let anybody else come near him. But she’s crazy, I tell you! Crazy about kids. I’ve never seen Stella so crazy!”

I did a quick calculation. Earl was now ten years old. I tried picturing Stella mooning over Earl, tried imagining what the boy must think of the grotesque woman he surely couldn’t remember. I wondered if Stella scared Earl, and if she didn’t scare him, then surely Elizabeth, his grandmother, did, which made better sense anyhow.

And what was this secret of Magdalene’s?

Lothian let out a fresh wail. “And after what Magdalene’s done! To think my father’s going to let her get away with it!”

“What’s Magdalene done?”

Lothian looked down. “
You know.”

“No, I’m afraid—”

“Magdalene,” Lothian’s voice dropped another octave, “is going …” She swallowed. “She’s going to have another baby, Mr. Madsen!”

I jerked back.

Lothian leaped to her feet. “Oh, I’m so humiliated, I could just cry!”

I wasn’t myself when I pointed out she was
already
crying, and would she mind very much shutting the hell up so I could think straight? But my fuzzy brain perceived this: Lothian didn’t like the tone of my voice. Not at all. She leaned over the table and sized me up as if a switch had been thrown, revealing yet another enemy.

“You don’t get it,” she spat, declaring war. “You don’t get it because you’ve
always
favored Magdalene, Mr. Madsen!”

“Blatantly untrue!”

“It is not—but can’t you understand what your precious Magdalene’s done now?
To me?
To all of us? And here you always thought she could do no wrong!”

“Zip it!” I snapped, schoolmaster comportment long gone. But she didn’t.

“My mother told me it’s
your
friend’s baby!” Lothian yelled.

I pushed myself back from the table. Lothian folded her arms over her chest and faced me down.

“It’s Matthew Waterston’s.
Mother told me—”

“I thought you said your father’s the only one who knows Magdalene’s secrets—” I hated her suddenly.

“Yes, but Mother has her way with secrets, too, and the truth is Magdalene’s not even considering finding someone to marry—oh no, she couldn’t possibly do the
circumspect
thing, or even stay in the city and have her baby there and adopt it out. Women do that all the time, I’m sure they do! No, she had to follow Matthew Waterston back here to Chadds Ford, to have her bastard and ruin my life!” Lothian tossed her head.

“I’m sure Jamie won’t marry me now!
Because, imagine,
my
sister’s going to have
his
father’s baby! And my mother’s told me that Jamie’s mother threatened to disown Jamie if he so much as even looks at a Grayson girl again! Who else could that mean but
me?
We’re ruined, I tell you! No Grayson can ever go to town again, or—”

“Wait. Matthew Waterston’s not due—”

Lothian’s laughter verged on hysteria. “You really don’t get it, do you, Mr. Madsen?
Matthew Waterston’s already back
in Chadds Ford!
He arrived yesterday. And it’s none of this visiting crap. He’s at the mill house with his wife. Mother told me they’re together, as in
together.
A farce of course, but do you get it now, Mr. Madsen? This is not some sort of joke, you know! This is my life and I tell you, my mother’s right! Magdalene’s ruining it!”

I ran and ran and ran. Oh, but Lothian had gloated, because my horror had been so ill-disguised. A horror plastered against me, inside me and everywhere around me. Lothian’s doll-like features had contorted with sick pleasure seeing that horror, and that’s when the blinders had come off and I’d seen that it was the
other
Grayson women,
not
Stella, who were ugly beyond belief.

The Brandywine stopped me dead in my tracks that day. I saw how stuck I was, how convoluted my thinking was, how dependent my dreams had always been on Magdalene, always Magdalene—and that I’d been a perfect idiot, allowing myself to get sucked in again, even for five minutes.

I stared into the gray water. I could wade to the other bank, but I might not make it: the creek ran sharp. Besides, what was the point? I could run up to the next ford and cross the river there, and circle back down to Chadds Ford as the better-prepared British had done, surprising Washington, but that was miles, and I didn’t have a point or battles left to fight. I was superfluous—and I suddenly knew it like I’d never known anything before. So to do something so stupid as to run miles around a creek would reveal nothing more than the fact that I was able to go a distance. And who cared about that? Who really cared?

I couldn’t remember when I’d been so disgusted with myself.

“Aidan!”

I turned, astounded to see Lear standing just upstream, lighting a cigarette. He’d parked on the shoulder of the road. I ran toward the car, stumbling, falling to my knees. Sahar opened her door, and next thing I knew my head was on her lap and she was stroking my hair.

“They move on,” she said. “It’s the natural order. This time he’s moving farther, that’s all.”

Mystified, I raised my head. Sahar was gazing out the windshield. I shivered and she looked down and smiled.

“We always knew Jamie wanted to take his orchestra on a bigger road, Aidan. And that has to mean California. He’s going to be a major star. Two years is a long time, true, but he’ll be back.”

I didn’t understand. “What’s
this
about Jamie?” I managed.

“He’s moving to California—you didn’t know? It’s a brilliant career move, California. And I know you’ll be supportive … he’ll be here tomorrow, stopping at Chadds Ford … listen, Aidan, I’d prefer Lothian not know about Jamie being here tomorrow, or about California.”

Her voice went tender. “I happened to see her leave Washington’s Headquarters, and judging from the way she was throwing that bike of hers around I figured she’d told you about Magdalene. Then I saw you run out. I called Lear. There was only one place you’d go.”

I sat back on my haunches, shivering. “You know?”

“About the pregnancy, yes. Lear told me.”

Sahar’s out-of-place smile stabbed another shiver down my spine.

“Stupid,” she sighed. “But I have managed to wring
some
good out of this. Matthew needed to come home and I agreed—but only
if
he’d take responsibility for Magdalene’s baby and free Jamie to stay with his career. Elizabeth and Lear understand how important Jamie’s career is, and although it’s going to cost some …” She looked at me curiously. My shivers had spread-eagled. I suddenly understood everything that freeing Jamie actually meant. I felt pale, even ghostly. I’d never known a person could
feel
ghostly.

I said, “Magdalene’s baby is …
Jamie’s?
Does he know?”

“How clever you are … now, no one’s to know about Jamie.” And then less cryptically, “Matthew’s here for good, Aidan. He’s ill, very ill. He’s been sick for some time.”

I just looked at her, silent and shivery.

“It’s circulatory, I think. He can’t stand for even two minutes. And he shakes all the time. His hands, legs, arms,
everything.
” She leaned in closer.
“Matthew’s dying, Aidan.
Jamie doesn’t know about his father dying … I’m letting him go without telling him. You understand.”

Dying? Matthew couldn’t die. Matthew was indestructible. There was that inappropriate smile of hers again. And then Sahar said, “I get the last word.”

And my shivering became full-blown shaking, as if I’d been drop-kicked into a blizzard. I somehow got to my feet and brushed my trousers off, calmly enough for a shaking man. I wouldn’t look at her, never again. But I did look across the roof of the car. Lear nodded and flicked his dead cigarette into the gray water of the Brandywine.

I understood the signal. It meant all was a go.

Sahar called out, “He’s finished, Aidan! Matthew’s done! He’s got to pay the price and I’m going to help him do it. I’m going to help him like he’s always helped me. But I need you and Lear. Can I count on you, Aidan, to help me take care of Matthew? Are you onboard?”

This was not the woman who’d always allowed me to feel noble. This was someone scaring the shit out of me. This was someone who meant Matthew harm; someone
mean.
Someone
repellant.

I locked eyes with Lear and shook my head, signaling I needed to talk before we moved ahead. But later. Right that minute I needed to be left alone. Things had to wait until I was ready. Until life and the people in it began making sense again. I turned and continued running.

***

I’d been so sure Lear had interpreted my head shake—but my world continued breaking apart. I guess that’s the way life works when you hit a downhill slide, running.

It was dusk by the time I limped home, only to find
another
Grayson waiting for me: Magdalene.

I hesitate here … because I’ve no better way of putting this, Francis, although I can provide more back story later, when you’re older, if you want … but for right now, here are the facts:

After I let Magdalene inside Washington’s Headquarters, and after she told me the baby she was expecting was
you and confirmed that Jamie is your father and not Matthew, I made love to Magdalene, betraying everything I’d ever stood for.

After, she slept. But I lay awake feeling like more hell—yet apparently I nodded off for a few minutes. And had a dream filled with shadowy figures that raced through my mind, then out of it, gliding up my bedroom walls, colliding together on the ceiling, becoming one, where it hovered, then
breathed
, its orange-yellow form spiking with each guilt-laden breath I took. I heard agonized screams, heard my name called, heard popping noises. The orange ball on my ceiling diffused into light-filled fingers.

I struggled out of the dream’s terribleness, bolting upright in my bed and realized,
Fire!

I leaped to the window, and there across the road was the most hideous
thing I’d ever seen:
a wall of fire.
I heard someone wail and thought it was Magdalene, then realized it was
my
own cry of horror. I forgot about Magdalene—didn’t even look at her—grabbed a blanket and ran for the staircase instead, down the stairs, slippers flapping against my heels, tripping and falling against my front door, flinging it open and running across the road to stand helplessly before the fire in the process of enveloping the mill house.