The Oldest Sin (34 page)

Bram had talked earlier about loose ends. Sophie decided that she had a rather major loose end of her own. She hoped the journal might help her tie it up. As she read through all the religious blither she couldn’t believe she’d ever been that person. Her comments struck her as not only painfully young but incredibly judgmental and moralistic — so much so that she had the distinct urge to toss it in the garbage. It was hard paging through the writing, yet she was searching for something specific and she couldn’t stop until she found it.

About a third of the way through the notebook, she came across a section she’d written the day after Ginger’s death. She’d jotted down some notes about the last words Ginger had spoken the night she died. At the time they’d struck her as odd. Now she wondered if she couldn’t find a specific meaning in them — something she’d missed way back when because she hadn’t understood the full story. Bram might not believe Ginger’s death had anything to do with present events, but Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that it was ad related.

She pressed a finger to the page and read silently to herself,

I have to write about this because I’m still so upset Ginger died last night. God didn’t answer our prayers — or maybe He did. He just said no. Ginger’s asleep now, awaiting the resurrection, and I know I should put it to rest, too, but I still wish I understood what she was trying to tell us last night. As best I can remember it, here’s what she said. First, “He’s coming!” She sounded terrified. If she really
was
talking about the Second Coming, as someone suggested, she wouldn’t have been frightened. Next, she talked about the fire and the wood. And a ram. I thought she might be referring to an Old Testament sacrifice. And then she said the word
Moriah.
Mount Moriah, I assume. I know what sacrifice took place there, but I can’t think what it would have to do with anything. Then she shouted the name Isaac, mumbled something about not caring about… stars. We all assumed she meant Isaac Knox, so we called him and he came right over. But was it really the fever talking? Was she out of her head? That’s what Mr. Knox said, but I’m not so sure. I saw her eyes. Her words meant
something
, I’m sure of it. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, but I can’t figure it out. I talked to Bunny this morning, but she says to let it go. I know she’s right. Except first I thought I’d write it all down. Maybe one day I’ll understand.

Sophie looked up from the notebook. The quiet in the attic pressed down on her, forcing her to confront the image in her mind. She could see Ginger’s feverish body lying on her bed, the bloody sheet pulled up around her middle. She could smell the cinnamon tea, hear the prayers of classmates in the next room, feel the same fear and helplessness that had overwhelmed her that night.

“Moriah,” she whispered, feeling the word escape her lips like an ancient breath, one that had been trapped inside her far too long. In that one moment, in a flash of absolute clarity, she saw it all — what she’d missed so many years ago, and what she was missing now. Ginger
had
been talking about a sacrifice. She’d given up her child. Writhing on that bed, she’d desperately wanted to turn back the clock — to have the ram take its place. And the stars. What did Ginger care about God’s promise of nations and multitudes? Without her child, it was all meaningless.

Sophie understood the emptiness. Deep in her soul, she’d felt the same longing. And wasn’t that the irony? Tears welled in her eyes as she realized how much they’d
all
lost. Everything was there in those few tortured words.

Even the identity of the man Ginger had once loved.

“Lake Avenue Real Estate,” said the woman’s voice on the other end of the line. “May I help you?”

“This is Sophie Greenway. I’d like to speak to Earl Sullivan.” It was Thursday morning and Sophie was seated in her office at the Maxfield Plaza, the phone propped between her chin and her shoulder.

“Mr. Sullivan is on another line right now, Ms. Greenway.” The receptionist sounded busy. “Would you like to hold, or leave a message?”

“I’ll wait,” said Sophie, drumming her fingers impatiently on the desktop.

She’d arrived at the Maxfield about an hour ago, the realization she’d come to last night still gnawing at her. Over breakfast, Bram had made the rather lame suggestion that she call the police. They both knew that when Lieutenant Riley asked for proof, ad she could give him were Bible verses, church doctrine, and her latest “new” theory. Riley would laugh in her face.

The good lieutenant’s sense of humor notwithstanding, Sophie knew that this time she was right. There was no question that Isaac had a strong motive for wanting Lavinia out of the way. That connection had fooled her at first. Yet there was someone else who had even more to lose. Someone with a bottom line far more compelling than Isaac’s, one she hadn’t appreciated until last night. The problem was, even though she’d racked her brains trying to come up with a way to get the proof she needed, she’d come up empty.

“Sophie, hi.” Earl Sullivan’s voice boomed. “What can I do for you?”

Sophie was jolted back to the moment. Picking up a pencil, she pulled a notepad in front of her. “I need to know if you’ve taken a look at the house yet? We want to get an idea of the market value as soon as possible.”

“Of course. Yes, I did drive by yesterday. Even got out and walked around the property. Most everything looks like it’s in good shape — at least as far as I could tell. We’ll have to hire someone to do the Truth in Housing inspection, of course, but that shouldn’t take long to set up. I saw only one real problem.”

“And that was?” said Sophie, steeling herself for the bad news.

“Well, it looks to me like you’ve got a hole in your facia board near the top of the gable on the south side. There’s a tree branch covering it, so I suppose that’s why you haven’t noticed it. I’d say if you don’t already have a nest of squirrels up there, you soon wid.”

“Squirrels!”

“Have you seen any evidence of them in your attic?”

“Absolutely not.” She was appalled. If Ethel went upstairs and came face-to-face with a squirrel, the poor thing would have a stroke. Come to think of it, so would she. Hearing a knock on the door, she put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, “Come in.”

Hildegard O’Malley hurried into the room. “You’ve got to come right away,” she whispered. “We’ve got … a situation.”

Sophie wondered what constituted a
situation
, but wanted to finish her conversation with the agent first. “I’ll talk to my husband about it tonight.”

“Good. The sooner you take care of it, the less damage the little critters can cause. Let me know when someone’s going to be home, and I’ll come by for the interior appraisal. After that, we’ll find ourselves an inspector, sign some papers, and we’ll be off and running.”

“Thanks,” said Sophie. “I’ll talk to you soon.” As she dropped the phone back on the hook, she could tell Hildegard was about to burst. “What is it?”

“It’s that friend of yours — I didn’t know what to do. We sent two security guards up there, but she threatened to jump if they didn’t leave.”

“Slow down. Which friend? Up where?” Then, realizing the significance of Hildegard’s words, Sophie added, “What do you mean
jump?”

“Cindy, is that her name? You know the one I mean. She looks a lot like Lavinia Fiore.”

Sophie shot out of her chair.

“She’s on the roof,” continued Hildegard as they rushed toward the elevators. “One of our workmen was up there fixing something when he saw a head peak out the security door. Before he knew what was happening she was standing near the edge. He tried to explain that nobody but maintenance was allowed on the roof, but she wouldn’t listen. I think she scared him pretty badly, so he called security. Two of our men tried to reason with her, but she said if they didn’t leave her alone, she’d jump.”

Several minutes later, after consulting briefly with the security guards, Sophie stepped onto the roof herself. She had no idea what she was going to do or say, she just knew she had to act. Cindy might not want to spill her troubles to a stranger, but perhaps she’d talk to a friend Their connection was no longer strong, yet that might just work to her advantage.

It was a sunny, cloudless, windy morning. Cindy was standing next to a roof vent several yards in from the edge, her yellow skirt billowing in the breeze, her eyes fixed on the Mississippi River eighteen stories below.

Glancing at Hildegard and the two security men, Sophie stepped slowly away from the door. She’d never liked heights, and didn’t much care for the gusts of wind flattening her clothes hard against her body. Stopping fair distance away, she called, “Cindy?”

Cindy turned, her eyes struggling to focus. After a long moment she said, “What do you want?” Her voice held nothing but coldness.

Walking a few paces closer, Sophie replied, ‘To talk.”

“Just go away. This … isn’t what it looks like. I just needed a quiet place to think.”

“Why don’t you come down to my office, then. You can think down there much more comfortably. We can talk, or I’d leave you alone. Whatever you like. I’d even have someone bring you a breakfast tray. You’ll feel much better after you’ve had a good meal.” She knew it was a pathetic attempt, but she didn’t know what else to say.

Cindy held Sophie’s eyes for a moment, then looked back down at the river. “Just go away. This is no concern of yours.”

“Maybe not,” said Sophie, inching closer to the edge. “But I know
this
isn’t the answer.”

“I told you.” Her voice grew insistent. “I just need some time to think things through. I’d be down in a few minutes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Cindy’s head whipped around. “Look, we don’t know each other anymore, Sophie. If this past week has taught me anything, it’s that. Adelle is the only one I’ve stayed close to, even though I’ve always thought our friendship was kind of odd. She has that entire church at her feet and yet who does she confide in?” She answered her own question. “Me.”

“She
confides
in you?” said Sophie cautiously. She waited a moment and then continued, “Did she ever confide in you what really happened to Ginger back at college?”

“You mean the abortion?” She shook her head. “We never talked about that. I was as surprised by what she said yesterday as you were.”

Very softly, Sophie replied, “I’m not convinced she told us the truth.”

This time, Cindy turned completely around. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember what Ginger said the night she died?”

“I wasn’t there, Sophie. Remember? Ginger and I hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks.”

“Oh … right.” How could she have forgotten?

“Besides, I’m bored with the subject of Ginger Pomejay. Whether or not Isaac was responsible for her death has very little meaning to me now. I’ve got” — her eyes moved away —”problems of my own.”

Sophie recalled Bunny’s words the other day at tea. She’d insisted Cindy had been acting strangely all week. Sophie had seen it, too. Behind her outward calm, Sophie had sensed a nagging fatigue. “But, Cindy, this isn’t the way to solve your problems. There’s got to be something you can do short of jumping off a roof.” She knew what she lacked in tact, she made up for in sincerity. And anyway, there was no point beating around the bush. They both knew why Cindy was standing five feet from the edge of a precipice.

Cindy gazed at Sophie, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Then, touching her fingers lightly to her forehead, she said, “Do you remember what they told us in college? The first sin, the oldest sin, was eating? It was a joke, of course, but in a strange way, I always knew there was a nugget of truth in it Anybody who couldn’t control their weight — any
fat
woman — was Eve’s sinful daughter. Remember how the ministers used to revile her? If it hadn’t been for Eve and her pathetic lack of self-control, we’d all still be in Eden. She ruined everything for man. Sometimes I wonder if that isn’t the basis for all the woman-hating I see around me.”

Sophie wondered what this had to do with Cindy’s present predicament. “What are you trying to say?” she asked cautiously.

“Just that it wasn’t eating that was the sin, Sophie, it was appetite. Female appetite. Eve wanted knowledge. The serpent offered it to her. When she indulged her appetite and ate the apple, her eyes were opened. She finally got the point.”

“What point?” asked Sophie.

“That women weren’t supposed to
have
appetites. That’s man’s sphere. Women have no business wanting to control the world, to make their mark, to feed and expand, to grow heavy with power, knowledge, and authority. Instead, they’re supposed to stay home, be small, soft, quiet, obedient. The only problem is, we all bear the mark of Eve in our souls. We’re torn. We want to be good little girls, please our daddies, our husbands, our moral leaders. Yet we want more than we’re supposed to have. We try to convince ourselves we’re happy with the status men and the God they created in their own image have allotted us, but in our hearts we know we’re still Eve’s daughters. And it’s not enough.”