A Slender Thread (22 page)

Lacey flipped on the light. Margot stared across at her sister, amazed. This had never happened before. Grandmother Winkler was warm and loving, but she ran an ordered household. Going to bed early was a virtue in her book. Swimming at night was not part of her routine.

The sisters hurriedly pulled off their nightgowns and reached for their bathing suits, which hung drying on hooks on the open stud walls. Margot had to yank at her wet suit to pull up the stretchy fabric. The cool, damp cloth felt good on her skin. When they reached the foot of the stairs, Granny Winkler met them with towels and flashlights. The path under the trees was dark, but the air was still as hot as daytime. The dry pine-covered ground seemed to crackle under their flip-flops. Once they reached the lake they turned off their flashlights. The full moon shone brilliantly on the water. Margot gasped in awe. “It's so bright,” she said.

“It's nighttime and we have to swim together,” Grandmother Winkler said. She announced they would each take an inner tube and float together in the lake. The black inner tubes were heaped in a pile next to the dock.

Granny Winkler wore a billowy cotton bathing suit with wide straps and a skirt. Tonight she didn't put on her bathing cap with the unpleasant rubber smell, but her hair was pulled high in a topknot on her head. Margot never understood the bathing cap, as her grandmother swam a ladylike breaststroke, her head and neck always well out of the water.

The lake felt delicious. Neither girl shivered or squealed as the water touched her skin. The surface was smooth, broken only by the gentle wake made by their bodies as they glided along. The event of swimming at night alone with their grandmother felt ceremonial, and in keeping with the occasion they followed her, nearly silent. Grandmother Winkler rested her fleshy arms on her tube and moved her legs in a scissors kick. She glided slowly and evenly through the water. Margot followed, her own legs moving faster and froglike while she clutched the black rubber ring. Lacey brought up the rear of their little procession. The water felt like silk. Their progress out into the lake was almost effortless.

Lacey spoke. Her voice rang out clear in the night. “Granny,” she said, “the moon is making a path for us.” Her laughter carried across the water. “We're swimming the moon path.”

That night was perfect. Margot and her sister were happy. What could ever be better? Lacey had found just the right words. They were swimming the moon path on Bow Lake.

Margot shivered in the cold room. She rolled over to face the wall. How much longer would Lacey be able to find the right words, or any words at all?

 

The wind was howling the next morning as Margot packed her bag. Despite the costly penalty, she had changed her flight to return to New York a day early. A steady thumping and clanging came from Lacey's loom across the hall. When Margot went down to the kitchen for breakfast she was relieved to be alone. She made tea and put a slice of bread in the toaster. A large flock of birds had gathered around the feeder outside the kitchen window. They dove and circled, all trying to grab what they could. Smaller birds scurried beneath, taking with relish the seeds that had fallen to the ground. In the garden the last of the perennial flowers were nothing but raggedy brown stalks against the snow.

Margot was sitting at the table eating her breakfast when Lacey came into the kitchen. Her hair was pulled tightly into the barrette at her neck. She didn't smile, but there was color in her cheeks. She wore jeans and a teal-colored sweater and had taken the time to put on dangling silver earrings. She took a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with granola.

“Well, now everybody knows,” Lacey said. Her voice was level and resigned.

“Lacey, I . . . ” Margot began, her words coming out in a jumble. “It wasn't easy for any of us. It's terrible, terrible. But it was time they knew and better for them to hear it from Alex and you together.”

“That's what you . . . and Alex took from me.” Lacey spoke very slowly.

“What do you mean?” Margot asked.

“Time,” Lacey said.

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“I tried to tell Alex. I wanted a few months. A few more months for everything.” Lacey stopped and took in a large breath. “I wanted my girls to live with me like it . . . always was. I wanted to give them normal days. It's over now.”

“Oh, Lacey,” Margot murmured.

“What I wanted was so little.” Lacey spoke very softly, then whispered, “A little more time. That's all.”

I
t was already March. Margot felt that the winter had slipped by much like the clouds now bolting across the sky, one moment casting a shadow, the next disappearing altogether. There had been no major winter storms, despite intermittent dire predictions. The weather was still cool, but the days were lengthening, that inevitable sign of hope, and now and again when walking in the park she could smell the change in the seasons: the earthiness of damp ground, the pungent wet of the Hudson, and the sweet spiciness wafting from pots of narcissus perched outside flower shops on sunny afternoons.

After the disastrous weekend with Lacey in January, Wink had been Margot's principle source of communication with the family. Lacey rarely answered the phone. Wink seemed to enjoy talking to Margot and she reported that the first few weeks after Margot's visit had been hard, but after the family conference with Lacey's neurologist they had all calmed down a little. The doctor had urged them to carry on as usual. Wink assured Margot that her mom wasn't getting any worse.

Eventually, Lacey spoke to Margot when she called and her tone grew gradually warmer week after week, almost in keeping with the weather. When they had spoken earlier this month, Lacey had sounded much like her old self, getting stuck on a word only now and then. Margot tried to keep her calls cheerful, not wanting to reenter any unsettling territory. Oliver accused her of avoiding difficult situations. Sometimes he was right, but in this case doing otherwise was just too painful.

Last week Wink had been accepted at Cornell and Toni had gotten into Columbia as well as the University of New Hampshire. Lacey called to say that she and Toni were coming to New York to visit the school again. She explained that Ryan was still in the picture—all the more reason to get Toni away from New Hampshire and out into a wider world. Lacey spoke slowly. She seemed to be making an effort to be understanding of her daughter's wishes, and yet, she told Margot, she thought if only Toni could hear more about New York from Margot, and how it could open up so many possibilities, she might feel more enthusiastic about the school. Margot agreed to talk to her niece about the advantages of attending college in New York.

Here was a chance to do something for Lacey. If Toni was in New York, Margot could be more of a hands-on aunt. She imagined taking Toni to gallery openings and introducing her to the art world, or simply meeting for coffee to have a chance to really connect and know her niece better.

Toni and Lacey arrived at Margot's apartment for their visit to New York at the end of March. Margot felt hopeful. They were looking at colleges, living a normal life, not hiding at home mired in unhappiness because of Lacey's illness. This trip had to be a good sign.

Oliver's visit to San Francisco had paid off. The Croft Gallery was giving him a one-man show in early June. His dark mood had lifted and he was now in a working frenzy. Gradually, they had settled back into their usual routine. Their argument over her trip to New Hampshire to help Alex had shaken her. Those few anxious days when he was away had made her feel wobbly and unsure. It was a relief when he returned, and their lives seemed much the same, except for a few changes.

All winter Margot had gone to her old apartment early in the morning before going down to her job at the gallery. Oliver encouraged her return to art, though when he got home in the evening, he was usually caught up in his own work and didn't always ask about her progress. They ate their “sloppy suppers” at nine or later, as he often forgot the time. Soon it would be salad season, and Oliver's turn to cook. They didn't talk about Lacey's illness and they didn't talk about Oliver's marriage proposal, almost as if they had an unspoken pact.

The Saturday afternoon of their visit Margot found Toni alone at her apartment. The night before Oliver had taken them all to a Brazilian restaurant for dinner. The food was good, but he had chosen the place thinking that Toni would like the music as well as the hip young waiters, many of them students at Columbia.

“Where's your mom?” Margot asked when she let herself in.

“Taking a run,” Toni said. Toni and Lacey had toured the university that morning and met with an admissions officer.

“It's almost warm out today,” Margot said, putting her shoulder bag on the chair near the door.

“Mom's more of a fitness freak than ever.” Toni was sitting on the love seat with a large Columbia catalog open in her lap. She pushed it aside and looked up at her aunt. Toni's hair was messily clipped up high on her head. She wore a long, slouchy sweater over tight jeans that flared at the bottom. Her resemblance to Lacey was stronger than ever, though the trace of worry in her gaze reminded Margot of Alex. Toni had the beginning of a fine line between her brows like her father, perhaps undetectable to someone outside the family.

“So how'd you like Columbia?”

“Pretty amazing,” she said. She poked at the catalog of the course listings. “They have everything.”

“You don't sound enthused.”

“I'm sure Mom's filled you in.” Toni wrinkled her lips into a pout.

“I'd love to have you here in the city.”

“Thanks.” She offered Margot a slight smile and sighed. “You don't have to worry. Mom wins,” she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“So you'll come to Columbia?”

“Do you think I have the guts to disappoint her? My poor mother with this tragic disease?” Toni's face crumpled, becoming more childlike, her eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, sweetie.” Margot came and sat next to her niece. “It must be so hard.”

“You have no idea. Wink has become little miss research girl. She prints out all this junk that she says we need to read. Her latest thing is brain food. Like Mom hasn't spent her whole life as some sort of health Nazi.” Toni was crying harder now. “Dad tiptoes around us like he's some kind of mass murderer who doesn't want to be found out and then he disappears to Chicago. I kept hoping if we just kept going nothing would happen. Like maybe it was some big mistake after all.”

Margot put her arms around her niece. Behind her flip, savvy exterior was a girl deeply worried about her mom's illness. Like Alex, she held everything inside. “It's okay,” Margot said. “You can tell me about it.”

“Mom's so hard on Ryan, so totally unfair. She always thinks she knows best.”

“She did know best in my case.”

“Meaning?” Toni wiped her wet face with her hands. She was young and pretty. Her face showed no traces of having made irreparable mistakes.

“When I was engaged to Teddy, your mom told me not to get married so quickly. She tried to warn me.”

“Dad said that guy was a jerk.”

Toni's words stung her. So Alex had also thought she was a fool.

“I was young then, just a couple of years older than you are. I was lonely and desperate to find the kind of happiness your parents had.”

“ ‘Had' is the operative word.”

“You mustn't think that way. Toni, your parents are doing their best. They're adjusting to all this, too.” Margot hugged her niece. Lacey would have known how to comfort her daughter. She had spent years putting Band-Aids on skinned knees, calming her frightened girls after nightmares, and later soothing them when they were let down by a friend or didn't get invited to a party. “Just take things slowly,” she said, thinking how inept her own words sounded.

Toni sighed and lowered her head. Margot stroked her hair. They both looked up at the sound of a key in the door. Lacey came in, her face flushed and happy, then appeared concerned when she saw Margot with her arm around Toni. “You okay?” she asked.

Toni stood up. “I'm going to Columbia, Mom.”

Lacey came and pulled her daughter into a hug. She smiled down at Margot. An expression of delight mixed with relief fell across her face. Over her daughter's shoulder she mouthed the words “Thank you” to her sister. But Margot knew she'd had nothing at all to do with Toni's decision.

 

Oliver watched Hannah Greene walk slowly from painting to painting in his studio. He was working on a series of oils based on the twelve Olympian gods. Each piece was meant to stand alone, with the figure painted in a somewhat abstracted modern rendition, merely hinting at the actual Greek character. Hannah paused in front of Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Oliver had portrayed her as a figure of strength, her muscles shimmering but her head cast down toward the carcass of an animal. Her tears were shot with raylike lines radiating throughout the canvas. The figure wore modern dress, a twenty-first-century Diana.

“This is different for you,” Hannah said.

Oliver said nothing. He remained at the far end of the huge space, allowing Hannah to explore the work on her own. The walls of his studio were a dirty white and marred from the canvases he had hung at various stages of completion. The wooden floors were spattered with paint. A bookshelf near the door formed an alcove where he kept his desk, a computer, and files of images. A notebook on the desk was open to a page of pencil drawings and daubs of paint, colors he intended to use in his next composition.