Paint the Wind (4 page)

Grandmother appeared in the doorway and tapped her cane.

“Good morning, Grandmother,” said Maya.

The woman nodded. She seemed to teeter over her cane and took longer than usual to reach her chair.

Valentina entered and set Grandmother's plate in front of her.

Grandmother picked up her fork, stabbed a bite of the eggs, and put them in her mouth. She squinted and coughed. “Too much pepper!”

Confused, Valentina stammered, “There … is … no … pepper.”

Grandmother slapped the table. “I will not have an employee who lies to me. I hope I don't have to call the agency.…”

“She's not lying!” said Maya. “I watched her. She didn't use any pepper.”

Grandmother's face reddened. It was as if something
swelled inside her, about to explode. There was a second of doomed silence, and then it happened so fast that Maya only glimpsed a blur hurtling through the air.

The china plate hit the wall and clattered to the floor, breaking into precise thirds, in perfect triangular pieces. Yellow lumps of egg left more than one excuse to call in the painters. Puzzled, Maya stared at the shards and wondered how Grandmother had shattered the plate with such symmetry.

Maya turned to see Grandmother's head falling forward and hitting the table with a dull thump.

Valentina put both of her hands over her mouth.

Maya sat transfixed and stared at Grandmother, who slumped over her breakfast. Her face rested on a pillow of grapefruit, its juice dribbling onto the tablecloth.

Valentina ran to the kitchen and Maya could hear her
frantic voice on the telephone, giving the address and telling someone to hurry.

Then, as if someone had pinched her, Maya's mind leaped to the possibility that Grandmother might not wake up. She ran to her and put both hands on her fallen shoulders.“Grandmother? Grandmother?”

Grandmother's body drooped and her arms dangled at her sides, like weighted lines.

Valentina appeared and gently pulled Maya away. “Help is coming. They are on the way.”

“What's wrong with her? Why isn't she moving?”

Valentina wrung her hands. “I do not know. She needs a doctor.”

Confusion and hysteria welled inside Maya. She yelled, “Grandmother! Wake up! Wake up right now!”

In the distance, the whine of an ambulance escalated.

A
RTEMISIA SAW THE BLEACHED BONES OF A HORSE SKELETON
lying in a deep gully She led the band away from the ledge and the tenuous footing and the consequences of what could happen if one of the horses fell, broke a leg, and couldn't get up
.

Artemisia was the lead mare and even though she had a new foal who needed to nurse for several minutes every hour, the survival and well-being of the entire group also rested on her. She determined where and when to stop and graze. The others followed. If they were pursued, she didn't panic or lead them into dead-end canyons where they might be trapped. She led them to safety. And to the places they would rest each evening. And to water. Now, she stopped and looked toward the watering hole with alert caution, aware that another band was drinking there. The stallion in that band was aggressive
and liked to fight. Artemisia would hold her band back until they left
.

When it was their turn, she led them forward. Klee dawdled, listing a little too far from the cluster. Georgia gave him a firm head shove to keep him in line
.

Sargent patrolled from behind, keeping all of them in his sights. When they stopped at the water's edge, he approached each mare and nickered, taking attendance. Then, after drinking almost a gallon of water, Sargent raised his head to inspect the area before allowing the others to satisfy their thirst
.

Klee frolicked. He ran around Artemisia in ever-widening circles as if she were a maypole and there was a tether between them. He took short jaunts away, high stepping and kicking out with his hind legs, already imitating his brother and father, but then rushed back to the security of his mother. He ran to Mary and nibbled a little too roughly at her neck. She shook him off.
The excited foal turned his attention to Wyeth, who sent him tumbling with a playful kick. Klee pranced up to Sargent and pestered him to engage in a bout of rambunctious play. Artemisia pushed herself between the father and son to dissuade Klee, but the eager baby darted around her, bucking at the big stallion's back legs. Sargent whinnied and nipped at him. Artemisia saw that Sargent was preoccupied with standing guard. She intervened again, positioning herself between Klee and the others. Over and over the colt tried to reenter the circle, but Artemisia moved as he moved, blocking his advances toward the band
.

Klee soon became anxious. He hung his head and approached Artemisia with penitent baby steps. When he leaned in to nibble her neck, she relented, and permitted him back into their small community
.

M
AYA WONDERED FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME IF HER
new family would welcome her. She straightened her plaid skirt from beneath the scrunch of the airplane seat belt, brushed lint from her white blouse and blue cardigan, and looked out the window of the airplane at the strange landscape below. The pilot had announced that they were flying over Nevada and into Utah, but there were no towns that she could see, only barren brown flatlands, dry lake beds, and the occasional canyon that dropped into the muddled unknown.

The plane had reached its cruising altitude and seemed to float. Maya wondered at the peculiarity of time. It seemed as if hours slowed from this vantage. Maybe that's what happened, she thought. Seconds and
minutes had elongated, making room for the crush of events that changed her life. Since the moment Grandmother had tasted imaginary pepper in her scrambled eggs, Maya felt as if she had lived months instead of only the last twenty-four hours.

She closed her eyes but could not escape yesterday's unforgettable images: Grandmother's body disappearing on a rolling bed into a white ambulance; the doctor in the white lab coat who delivered the unbelievable news; Grandmother's lawyer, Mr. Benedetto, rushing to meet them at the hospital, still in his tennis clothes after being called off the courts; and later, the incongruity of walking back across the threshold of the house on Altadena Lane without Grandmother.

It had been late afternoon when Mr. Benedetto escorted Maya to the couch in the living room. Maya
had always liked his shiny bald head with the smile of curly gray hair around the back and the way his eyeglasses perched so far on the end of his nose that they looked as if they might fall off. He sat in the wingback chair across from her and leaned forward with sincere interest. “Maya, I'm very sorry about your grandmother. It was a massive stroke. According to her wishes, there will be no service. And I'll take care of all the other arrangements. You should know that there's a trust for your college education, but we don't have to talk about that until a much later date. The house and the furniture have been left to the Historic Pasadena Heritage League. They'll use it for functions … weddings and such. All of the personal and small household items will be put in storage for you, for some day when you're ready for them. Right now, we need to be concerned about your
care. I've asked the housekeeper to stay with you overnight until I can make arrangements. It looks as if you'll have to leave a little early for Wyoming this year.”

“Wyoming?”

“Well, yes …” said Mr. Benedetto. “To the Limners, like you do every year. But of course this time … to stay for good.”

Confused, Maya asked, “Who are they?”

“Who are they?” Mr. Benedetto almost laughed. “Your mother's family. You spend every summer with them.”

She stared at him, her eyes vacant and bewildered.

Mr. Benedetto's brow furrowed and he sat straighter, flipping through a sheaf of papers. He pointed to a paragraph. “Those were your parents' wishes. It says that your custody was to be split. You were to spend the school year with your grandmother and your summers
with …” He read the paper. “'Walter, Frederick, and Violet Limner.' ” He looked up and raised his eyebrows as if asking a question.

Maya gave a tiny shrug.

With sudden revelation, Mr. Benedetto rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, Agnes,” he said, as if he were admonishing Grandmother. “So that's why she never had me to the house during the summer. She didn't want me to find out that she wasn't complying.” He took a deep breath. “Maya, do you know
anything
about your mother's family?”

Maya searched her memory for the details Grandmother had told her and slowly nodded. “My other grandmother died when my mother was really little. I have a grandfather and he lives with his brother and
sister … but they're actually hillbillies with no education and they live like pigs in an uncivilized land. Oh, and they don't appreciate culture and are extremely crass and unsavory.”

Mr. Benedetto smiled and shook his head. “Maya, I think that's a gross misconception on Agnes's part.” He studied the papers. “Here's the information for Walter Limner. I'll call as soon as I get back to the office, then I'll call Valentina with the details for your flight. I'll see you tomorrow. And please, don't worry.” He stood and left, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

Alone in the room, Maya couldn't help but worry. She was curious about her mother's family and kept rolling their names around in her mind: Walter, Frederick, and Violet. They sounded like nice names. But what if
Grandmother had been right about them? Or knew something much worse than what she'd told Maya? After all, she'd kept her from them for all these years. And why hadn't
they
tried to contact her? Hadn't they wanted her? For all she knew they could be mean and indifferent. But then, what difference would it make if they were? She had nowhere else to go.

Valentina helped Maya pack. Everything she owned fit into one small suitcase. Afterward, Maya walked downstairs, stopping on each step in front of her father's photographs to touch his face. She wandered from room to room, her footsteps echoing hollow good-byes. When she heard children playing outside, she realized that she could walk out the front door and join them. But she didn't. She meandered inside without direction,
studying the furniture stifled beneath the plastic slipcovers, stroking the stark walls, and slipping behind the white draperies that dared not rumple. She walked into the dining room and gingerly touched each of the milk-glass vases for the first time in her life. As she climbed the stairs to go to bed, she thought about the voluminous white wedding gowns and the trailing white veils that would someday sweep across the immaculate tile floors. Grandmother would have liked that.

When the airplane's wheels finally touched down and the brakes engaged, Maya leaned against the seat, clutching the box of horses. She waited until everyone was off the plane and then edged down the aisle toward the waiting flight attendant.

As they walked down the long jet-way tunnel, he turned and smiled. “Visiting or going home?”

Maya's forehead crinkled as she thought about the question. She raised and dropped her shoulders. “I don't know.”