Fallen Beauty (23 page)

“Restoring nature’s order,” I say.

We ride the rest of the way in silence. When we stop, Eugen jumps down from the back of the sleigh and lifts Grace to help Laura down. She thanks him, and bids me good night.

We turn for home, and again look at the statue of the Virgin. From this angle and the progress of the moon, she is cloaked in shadows, and I can no longer make out her form.

LAURA

Grace and I set out for the market the next morning to pay off our account with the money I received from Millay, and to visit Dr. Hagerty to fix Grace’s glasses. I was surprised and somewhat relieved to see that Caroline was not in the window. Her incessant watching unnerved me. Dr. Hagerty welcomed us, but I could see that he was agitated in the way he kept looking over his shoulder. I thought I heard crying from the back room, but when I turned my head, it stopped.

“Broken,” said Grace, shoving her glasses at Dr. Hagerty.

“And how did you do this?”

“Hammer.”

I looked at her and she returned my gaze without a shred of guilt.

“Did you hit these with the mallet?” I asked.

“By accident.”

I knew it couldn’t have been an accident, and I intended to scold her once we were out of Dr. Hagerty’s shop. As it turned out, we’d have to come back in a few days. He would need time to fix the lens and adjust the frames.

“Will you be careful not to bump into anything while these are fixed?” he asked Grace.

She nodded and was already pulling me out the door. I was grateful, because I was now certain I heard weeping from the back room, and Dr. Hagerty looked pained.

On the way home, we passed Gabriel. He seemed to concentrate harder than ever before, but in spite of my shushing, Grace claimed his attention. He stopped chiseling and smiled when he saw her. I looked up at the statue of Our Lady of Grace. Most of it had come together, but the face was still indistinct.

“When will she get her features?” I asked.

“She hasn’t shown me how she’ll wear them yet. I’m patient though.”

He stared at me until I had to look away, and I continued past him.

These feelings were agonizing. His attention lifted me like a wave. Then I’d remind myself that I had to ignore it, and the crash would come. I decided that I’d take the backstreets like I used to. I could avoid him and, thus, save myself from disappointment.

I thought of the statue and his process, and of the work I had left to do for Millay, yards of fabric to cut, shape, and sew. I’d left her scarlet cloak for last. I knew this cape would symbolize the pain of love lost, love scorned, regret, sin—like a scarlet letter on her breast, born from my own heart—to close this chapter in my life that had been left open for so long. I was finally ready to sew it. It was the right time to fully own the pain of the past and let it go.

Something about watching Gabriel in the act of producing art in public stirred me, and I wondered if the cloak would be more authentically beautiful if I made it at Steepletop, with my subject an arm’s length away. It seemed to me that it would bring about a perfect communion in our working relationship by uniting subject to artist, sitter to sewer. I’d send for Eugen as soon as he was available, and Grace and I would spend a day at Steepletop completing Millay’s reading wardrobe.

When we returned to our shop, Sam was there with his wife, Callie, and his dog, Blue. He invited me to dine with them and a few others that evening at their house over the bridge. Father Ash was standing in the door of the rectory, clutching his journal. He watched us for a moment, and then disappeared. I turned my attention back to Sam and Callie. I dared not ask if Gabriel was invited, but I assumed he would be there.

“Come on,” said Sam with a smile. “You’ll see the girls, and the puppies.”

“We go?” said Grace.

I looked down at her eager face. It would be good for her to play with her new friends. It would be good for me on some level too, and I agreed. They gave me their address.

“How long have you lived there?” I asked.

“Just a few months,” said Sam. “You know I work at the lumberyard, and Callie takes care of the girls, and wants to start giving music lessons. We hope to meet more people once the weather improves.”

I didn’t reply that they would have a hard time making friends here, being from far away and looking the way they did in their eccentric clothing and with their long hair.

“What can I bring?” I asked.

“Whatever you have around the house,” said Callie. “Don’t go to any trouble. I have a roast I picked up for a steal.”

“Then I’ll make something of these potatoes,” I said, holding up the bag I’d just purchased.

“Swell. Come around four, before it gets dark. Sam’ll walk you home after dinner.”

After I tucked in Grace for her nap, I spent the rest of the afternoon worrying over Gabriel and cooking potato pancakes. I couldn’t get out of my head the old Irish rhyme
“Boxty on the griddle, boxty on the pan; if you can’t make boxty, you’ll never get a man,”
and I thought I’d go mad.

I hunted down a pile of table napkins in jeweled colors I’d sewn. They would make a nice housewarming gift. I tied the napkins with a ribbon, and then woke Grace at four o’clock. I placed her in the pram with a towel in her lap, and set the dish in her hands. It would be a miracle if we made it to dinner without her letting the potatoes tumble to the ground, but I’d wrapped it tight with another towel and hoped for the best.

I took the side streets in case Gabriel was still working, and on our way, we passed Lily Miller’s house. Her backyard lay in shadows, but I looked twice when I saw the orange glow of a cigarette on the back porch. I was surprised to see her smoking in public, but as a widow, Lily had a degree of freedom that younger women didn’t. Also, she was out of plain sight.

“Good evening,” she said.

“Hello, Lily.”

“We see puppies,” said Grace.

“Oh, where?” said Lily.

“We met the new family that moved in over the bridge,” I said. “Their dog had puppies, so Grace can play with them while we dine.”

“How nice,” she said. “It’s good for you girls to have friends.”

I waved and continued on, warmed by our interaction, and happy at the thought of dining with neighbors. I was determined to make a pleasant night of it, even if Gabriel came. I resolved to treat him with polite distance. I would not allow him to upset me.

•   •   •

D
isappointment and relief claimed me when I did not see Gabriel.

Tim had joined Sam’s family, as had Callie’s sister, Lydia, who was staying with them for the week. Sam and Callie’s daughters fussed over Grace, and took her to the shed outside to see the puppies. Tim poured me a glass of his homemade wine, which I gladly accepted, and I joined Lydia in setting the table. Callie loved the napkins.

“There are eight of us, but nine plates. Is anyone else joining us?” I asked, trying not to sound too curious.

“Gabriel said he might if he meets his sculpting goals today,” said Callie. “I told him not to worry about it one way or another. I made the same amount of food whether he’s here or not.”

My stomach began to twist in knots, and I drained my glass of wine. Tim noticed and poured me another, with a wink. Sam carried the carved roast to the table and I placed the potatoes at the other end with boiled carrots. Lydia filled the water glasses, while Callie carried out a bowl of steaming gravy. A cheerful fire burned in the dining room grate, and the napkins brought out the colored landscapes hanging on the walls. I walked close to one and touched the frame, entranced by a painting of mountains at sunset. The sun’s fiery glow transformed the trees and river, and the brushstrokes brought motion to the canvas.

“Callie painted it,” said Sam, his admiration evident.

“A musician and an artist,” I said.

“It’s just a hobby,” said Callie.

“Not quite,” said Sam. “She’s brilliant.”

My old companion jealousy stung my belly. I admired their love for each other and wished I could experience it. I tried to imagine what it would have been like if my lover had forsaken his old life and come to live with Grace and me, but I simply couldn’t hold on to the thought. It dissolved as quickly as it had formed. I took a generous swallow of the wine and set my glass on the table. I noticed that the candles were not lit.

“Where might I find matches?” I asked, suddenly feeling very cold and empty, and in need of setting my eyes on my daughter.

“I left them on the porch with my pipe,” said Sam.

“I’ll get them,” I said.

I passed through the front room, and opened the screen door. It felt good to be out in the cool evening air. Grace and the girls were by the shed, and I smiled when I saw how happy she looked. I glanced around the porch, and spotted the matches on a crude wooden table. As I went to retrieve them, a small statue of a goddess with a lyre caught my eye. I picked it up and ran my hands over it, recognizing the cool white-blue of the marble.

“She’s Terpsikhore,” said Gabriel.

I turned and found him on the steps, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. He walked over and cornered me on the porch. I no longer felt the night’s cool.

“The muse of music, dancing,” he said. “I carved it for Sam and Callie from a shard that fell from the Virgin.”

He stepped forward and closed his hands around mine on the statue. I could barely breathe. I looked up at him and could smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, mingled with a hint of incense. I imagined that he carried it on his clothes from living at the rectory. I pulled my hands from his just as Grace hopped up the stairs.

“See puppies,” she said.

Gabriel stared hard at me before letting Grace take his hand and lead him to the shed. He crouched down and petted the huskies, which had grown at an astounding rate. I put down the statue and lifted the matches. When I turned to look back at them, Gabriel came toward me. I hurried into the house and to the table to light the candles. Sam and Callie greeted Gabriel and announced that dinner was ready. The shuffling and seating of guests left me on a corner between Gabriel and Grace. I instructed Tim to top off my glass of wine, and he was happy to oblige.

“You’re enjoying the wine tonight, Laura,” he said.

“It’s going down smoothly.”

“You’re flushed,” said Callie. “It’s very becoming.”

Gabriel watched me, but didn’t comment. I thought I saw a smile lift the corner of his mouth, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Your statue is a real looker,” said Sam. “She’s almost finished.”

“I’m just waiting for her to show me her face. She’s elusive.”

“A frustrating part of the process, no doubt,” said Callie.

“You have no idea,” said Gabriel.

I took a long drink.

“What will you do once it’s finished?” asked Tim. “Do you plan to stay around here?”

I put down my glass and reached to cut Grace’s dinner, straining my ears to hear his reply.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I thought about applying for the maintenance supervisor position at the hospital, but now I don’t think I’ll stay on after all. I don’t think there’s anything for me here. My brother in New York City knows of a hotel that wants someone to carve sculptures for the facade. I can also work with him at his tavern for extra money.”

“Is it a speakeasy?” asked Tim.

“No, it’s an honest place. It used to be a bar, and hopefully it will be again in the future. I guess I’ll have to come back around here from time to time for the goods.”

“You won’t have any trouble finding places in the city,” said Lydia. “I live in the Village. There’s no shortage of watering holes. You’d be welcome.”

I noticed Callie nudge her with her elbow and give her a frown. I wondered if that was for my benefit. I didn’t know how to tell her that Lydia should feel free to flirt.

I couldn’t get out of my own way for the rest of dinner. As much as it pained me, I felt myself shutting down. I accepted praise for my potato pancakes and smiled at the girls as they babied Grace, but the large, brooding man at my right arm disturbed me more than I could bear. Every time we brushed against each other in the close quarters, I felt as if my skin had been seared. Clearly, the turbulent energy we emitted made others uncomfortable, and relief came when people began to stand and clear the table.

I insisted on washing the dishes so Callie could rest in the sitting room and talk with her guests. The girls braided Grace’s hair and showed her how to braid Dolly’s hair. Lydia sat at the old upright piano, and began playing jazzy songs I’d never heard. I had only a few moments of peace before Gabriel was at my side with a dish towel and a scowl. We worked in silence, each of us in a kind of competition to convey our aloofness. The steady flow of adults and children in and out of the room thwarted the few chances we had at conversation. When we finished, I gave a perfunctory, “Thank you.”

He didn’t reply, but walked out into the room where the merry crew continued to sing and laugh. I saw Grace curled up in the corner of the couch, yawning, and I knew I should go, but I hated to ask Sam to leave his own party to walk me home. I could also see that he was a little drunk. Tim lived in the opposite direction. Yet again, Gabriel was the obvious choice, but I didn’t want him to think I needed him. We’d go on our own.

I lifted Grace from the couch, and she wrapped her arms around me without protest. Her body was so relaxed, I knew she’d sleep as soon as we started walking.

“Thank you for playing so nicely with Grace,” I said to Sam and Callie’s daughters.

They smiled, and the older one spoke. “We love her.”

Her simple words touched me. Today had been a gift in so many ways.

I thanked Callie for her hospitality.

“Do you have to go already?” she said.

“We do. Grace is exhausted. I am too. But thank you for the invitation. You have no idea how good this was for us. I’m afraid we aren’t popular dinner guests around here.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “I hope you’ll join us often. I’ll have Sam walk you.”

“No, please,” I said. “It’s not much more than a mile. We’re used to walking.”

“But not alone at night?” she said.

“I walk alone at night a great deal,” I said. “Do you remember how I found all of you?”

Callie smiled and embraced me. “All right. Just watch for cars.”

I waved to the group, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes, and bundled up Grace and myself. I placed her in the pram and started on the long, dark road back to town.