Hers the Kingdom (85 page)

     "The story has other twists, other turns," Philip went on, speaking directly to Willa now. "There was the matter of the man named Rodriguez, arrested with McCord here. Rodriguez was a well-known local lout who was hired to make the frame-up seem
genuine. If you take a look at the record, you see that the judge— one Justice Peal—turned Rodriguez loose. Peal was another of Emory's men. At any rate, Rodriguez was found one day in Calabasas with his throat slit. A sidelight, perhaps pertinent, is that rumor had it Rodriguez was with the rustlers the day Ignacio was killed. And three days after Ignacio's son, Pablo, returned from Mexico, Rodriguez met his death. Frontier justice, perhaps."

     Willa looked at him directly then, swallowed, and waited. Perhaps she thought he was going to pursue Rodriguez' death, but Philip had no such intention.

     For the first time, Joseph started to speak, while searching for a plate for his cigar ash. Those of us gathered, with the exception of Connor, knew Joseph well enough to know the search was as much a part of his delivery as the unlit cigar—so no one made a move to help him. "What it seems to me Philip is getting at is that nobody who was part of the events of that summer—or who, like Philip himself, became involved in the years to come—" he paused, looked briefly at Kit, and continued "—can be free of the consequences. I do not exclude myself. I knew something of what happened—though by no means as much as Philip has told us this evening. My
inaction
can be said to be a choice." Arcadia looked at him in amazement. Joseph only fumbled more erratically.

     "The last time I talked to Porter," he went on, "he was quite taken with the idea of time—of future time—as a multitude of possibilities. That is to say, it was Porter's contention that, if it were possible to tell the future, we would then be able to change it. That future time was not a set, a given. If we had known what was to happen at Sarajevo, for example, we might have avoided the Great War—though of course, that is probably not the case. By which I mean, the assassination of the archduke was only the
immediate
cause of the war." Joseph was rambling. It occurred to me that he was being purposefully obscure in order to calm us, to give us time to recover.

     "What I am getting at," he went on in the same loquacious
way, "is that the false charges against McCord were the trigger, only. In terms of future time—as Porter defines it—it was to have the most complex reverberations. I'm sure the principals—Willa, Owen, and Connor—would have liked nothing so much as to put the whole episode behind them. But there was the baby, and there were those who would find it useful to know about the events of the summer. Charles, naturally. And Philip here, too. It must have been difficult for you, Philip—knowing all that you knew."

     Philip's shrug was an eloquent gesture, at once sad and resigned.

     "I thought as much," Joseph went on. "As McCord pointed out, we must share the guilt, some of us more than others."

     I had something to say. My hands were shaking, as was my voice, but I had to speak. "Please," I coughed, and to my surprise everyone fell silent, waiting.

     "I told Connor today, I told him about Rose—how beautiful she was, how touched with magic. I told him that when she died, I wanted to die too. For a time, I hated everyone . . . Connor, for what I thought then, and have all these years believed, was an act of supreme betrayal. Willa, I hated you for denying Rose's existence. And Wing Soong, because he wasn't here that day to keep her safe as he had promised he would. And Owen, oh, yes. I believe I hated Owen most of all . . . because he had gone off and left us here, alone, because he hadn't been able to look at Rose or touch her, and because he spread the poison. It seems to me now that the pain of her death almost overwhelmed the joy of her life. Almost, not quite. I knew that this morning, when I was able to talk about her as I never had. She was with us such a short time, but she was a source of such joy. And now that is what I am left with: the pleasure of her memory, only that. That is why I no longer blame anyone. It would be inconceivable. She was the innocent, Joseph. Rose was."

     I looked at them now. Connor was standing by the window, staring out, but he heard me, I knew. Cadie's cheeks were tear-streaked; she sat close to Joseph and held his hand. I could feel
the tension in Kit's body, next to me. She put her hand on mine.

     Willa sat bolt upright, her expression frozen. It was all out, now. Everything that could be said, I believed, had been said. Now it was time for Willa to say what could be. I glanced at Sara, and saw my own concern mirrored in her face. Willa was not going to give way. Nothing that had been said could break through the fierce obstinacy born of habit. The eagle hunted, and fed, and each year returned to the same tree, the same nest, year after year until the tree fell, or the eagle died. When she spoke, it was forced.

     "I suppose it is correct for me now to make an apology . . . to remove the stigma, at least, that came with the false arrest, false imprisonment." She directed her words to Connor, but she did not look at him. "I believe that you did not betray us, and I apologize for my part in this sorry episode." The words were wooden, the sentiment hollow. Sara had miscalculated.

     "It's long done," Connor answered. "Lena has been kind enough to help me. Now I intend to leave this country. I hope that we can consider this episode, as you say, closed, finished."

     Sara cried out in anger: "You've finished nothing, McCord. Look at Kit . . . Look at her! You've damned near killed her."

     
"Who killed Kit? Did I do it?"

     The words came from the doorway. We turned, all of us, to see Thad standing there, twisting his hands as if trying to keep them under control. His face contorted, he repeated the question: "
Did I do it? You've got to tell me!
"

     His eyes were darting back and forth; they were wild, afraid. He walked the length of the room, his hands twisting faster and faster. "I think I must have done it," he said in a tormented cry, "I know I killed Rose. I poisoned her and I watched her die."

     Willa rose, arms open to him, but he backed away from her like a child avoiding its mother.

     "And Papa, I killed Papa, too. And Pablo. I suppose I killed Pablo. I went to find him and they told me he was dead, so I must have killed them all."

     "Dear God in heaven!" Arcadia cried out, and immediately clasped her hand to her mouth. The men were standing, not certain what to do. I struggled to get to my feet. Kit was helping me, and she had turned toward me with her hands on my elbows when Thad screamed, "Sally!"

     He grabbed Kit from behind, jerking her so violently away from me that I fell. Joseph and Philip rushed to my aid, and in the confusion Thad dragged Kit to the fireplace. His back was to the wall and he was holding her tightly, one arm around her throat so that she could not move her head. With the other hand, he waved everybody away.

     "I've got her now," Thad said, in a voice of mad triumph, "I've got her and you can't take her away this time. She's going to stay with me. Tell them, Sally . . . tell them you're not going away."

     "Thad," Willa said, straining to keep her voice calm. "Listen to me. It isn't Sally. You've got Kit and you're hurting her."

     "You lie," Thad screeched, "Kit's dead, that's what you said. I'm keeping Sally. You can't send her away, not this time. I know your lies." His face changed, something sly came into his eyes, and when he spoke his voice was lowered, insinuating. "I'm going to keep Sally to show her that she was wrong. That you lied to her. I'm still a man, Mother. Nothing happened." He started dragging Kit toward the door, tightening his grip on her. He was breathing hard, his eyes were darting about. With his free hand he reached as if to caress Kit's body . . .

     Then Connor was behind him and in one swift motion, he pinned Thad's arms and held him in an iron grip. Willa pulled Kit to her. Thad gave one long, piercing scream, as if to empty all of the sound from his body, before he slumped forward, unconscious.

They were waiting on the terrace: Connor, his white suit shining in the night, one foot resting on the low wall. He was looking out to the darkness that marked the Pacific. Kit was sitting on the wall,
not far away, the red glow of her cigarette marking her presence. Sara, weary, sat very straight on a marble bench that was midway between the others. They did not speak, but only waited. There was, in the attitude of their bodies, the tension of the unknown. Philip and Joseph had gone with Thad. Arcadia and I had stayed with Willa. The four of us had done what we could do, and now I had to speak to Connor.

     Kit quickly crossed the terrace to meet me. "He's quiet now," I told her. "They'll get some of the ranch hands to take turns sitting with him, and we'll take him to town tomorrow, to the doctor."

     "Connor," I said, "we seem always to be asking each other for favors." He was looking out to the calm, moon-struck Pacific, which mocked the storm this house had witnessed. "But I have one more to ask. We would like for you to take Kit in to my house in Los Angeles and stay there with her. Sara and I will join you as soon as we can."

     He leaned to kiss me. "Dear Lena," he said, touching my cheek with his fingers.

     With his face close to mine, I told him, "Take care of her, Connor. Love her well."

Kit was a very good driver. She guided the big car down the twists and turns, racing along the straight run through the Palm Lane, saying nothing at all, but letting the soft night wind blow her hair about. She did not stop until they had traveled some distance down the beach road. Then she stepped quickly out of the car, and motioned him to follow her.

     "This rock," she said, "this is where my parents sat to watch the new century come in. That was before I was born. I thought it had nothing to do with me. I was wrong. Their past, and yours— their
sins
, if you call them that, and yours, are inextricably mine."

     She moved to him, wrapped her arms around him and they rocked gently, back and forth.

     "What Auntie said about Rose . . . I will think of her now as some small angel, holding my happiness in her hands like a big, ripe peach—all those years ago."

     He pulled her closer. She could feel the rise and fall of his breathing.

     "She sent us away together, you know that, don't you?"

     "She?" he asked, smoothing her hair with his hand.

     "Mother."

     "How do you know?"

     "Auntie said 'we'—'
we
would like for you to take Kit away.' Mother told her to tell you that."

     He looked at her thoughtfully, doubt in his face. "Katharine," he said softly, "it has been a wrenching night—for you, for your mother. I don't think anybody knows, yet, how they feel . . ."

     "Wait," she put her finger on his mouth to stop him. "You don't know about Thad. You don't, or you would understand."

     She told him, then, about the accident in the bullring, about Thad's impotence. She spoke of the long years when there had been no word at all from him, and of his startling reappearance, after the war. And she spoke of Willa's determined struggle to help him.

     "The reason I believe she sent us away together has nothing to do with what was said tonight—what Sara and Philip told her about your innocence. I think it was because of Thad." She began to speak slowly, as if she were thinking it through as she spoke. "Until tonight, I don't think Mother had any idea—none of us had any idea—how much, in Thad's twisted mind, he blames her for all that happened to him. He believes she sent Sally away. She didn't, not at all. I suspect—and I'm sure Mother does too—that Thad blames her for his loss of manhood."

     She shrugged, sighed. "It's all so mixed up."

     He put his arm around her and they walked toward the ocean. The moonlight caught the edges of the waves as they broke, white against the darkened waters.

     "You still haven't explained what that could have to do with us, why your mother would send us off together," he reminded her.