The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (17 page)

Mercedes’s bedroom was by far the most ransacked room in the house. She collected all her undergarments and put them in the laundry. The bald audacity of anyone doing this made her furious. She smoothed her bed where a mocking stranger had lain. She picked up all the clothes from the floor and hung them in the closet.

She thought about her lost jewelry and realized it included Eddy’s and her wedding rings, which she’d been planning to give
Germaine when she was older. She looked at the basket from Senegal where it sat, unmolested.

Germaine left Mercedes alone and went into the bathroom, which stank of urine. She felt scared and sad, and wished they could call Jack. She wanted him to come over. He’d be able to reach the mirror, which she couldn’t, for one thing. She looked at the disgusting word. The stupid person who’d written it couldn’t even spell. The thought of anyone calling her mother that name filled her with rage.

She dragged in a chair from the kitchen along with window cleaner and a rag. She climbed up on the chair, sprayed the lipstick, and rubbed vigorously. The lipstick smeared and covered an even greater portion of the mirror, but at least the letters of the word were blurred beyond recognition. She kept spraying and rubbing harder, her little pink tongue sticking out, her brow furrowed in a scowl, her full determination on the target. Finally the glass came clean. She felt like scrubbing the entire room, the whole house, and the neighborhood too.

She went into her room and sprayed the blackened window sill. When Mercedes came to check on her, Germaine was sobbing, wiping the tears from her eyes angrily with the back of one hand and scrubbing furiously at the window sill with the other. Mercedes stood behind her and gently touched her daughter’s shoulders until the girl was ready to turn around. They looked at each other with the same expression, tears in their eyes, lips pursed. Once again life had thrown them a curveball.

M
ercedes stood in the office kitchen reading an article that Simone had just handed her. It was a tribute to Rock Hudson, who had just died of AIDS after thirty years as one of Hollywood’s favorite leading men. She filled her cup and returned to the spare office, where she was indexing Franjipur documents. Julie buzzed her on the intercom.

“Your father’s on the line,” she said. He seldom called her, and neither parent had ever called her at work.

“Dad?”

“Hi, Kid. Sorry to have to call you at the office, but your grandmother’s had an accident, and we thought you should know right away.”

“Is she okay?”

“She fell in the dining room, either early yesterday or maybe even the day before, according to the doctors. The housekeeper found her this morning and called an ambulance. She’s in the hospital in Riverside.”

“Poor Granny,” she said mournfully.

“She has a broken hip and a head injury. She’s unconscious and dehydrated, so they have her on an IV. It looks like we’ll be flying out as soon as possible. Could you get away and come down?”

“I’ll work it out,” she said, filled with dread. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Kid. See you soon.”

She went over to the window and looked out. Suddenly everything seemed so dark. Poor Granny! She tried to imagine what it must have been like for her lying there on the floor hour after hour in pain, unable to get up, hoping for help to come.

Then the prospect of spending a few days with Eleanor infiltrated her thoughts.

Florida told her to take as much time as she needed. She wished her and her grandmother well.

When she resumed work on the Franjipur documents, the phone rang again. This time it was Jack, inviting her to lunch. It was a relief to hear his voice. Soon they were seated at their favorite Japanese restaurant. He was coughing a little and intermittently held a handkerchief to his mouth. Their late-night phone calls seemed to be taking a toll on him. By the time the red lacquered bento boxes arrived, she had filled him in on the news about her grandmother.

“You don’t seem in any rush to see your family,” Jack observed dryly. Then added, “What if I went down there with you?”

She looked up to see if he was joking. “Why would you want to?”

“Guess.”

“I’d hate to ask you. You’d have to run the gauntlet.”

“You’re not asking me, I’m volunteering. Perhaps I can help. And I’d like to meet your parents.”

She hesitated. He reached across the table and took her hand.

“We are not responsible for who our parents are or how they act. Trust me on this one. I’ll go with you, and we’ll make the best of it.”

So it was settled.

W
ITHIN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS THEY
were on their way to the hospital in a rental car driven by Jack. During the drive from the Ontario airport, as Germaine listened in the backseat, Mercedes recounted the history of her grandparents settling in Riverside. The old place had once been surrounded by orange groves, and no smog had obscured the view of the mountains. Some of Mercedes’s happiest childhood memories were of visiting there and hearing the mourning doves cooing in the eaves.

Germaine was on an adventure. She loved riding on the airplane. The prospect of seeing her grandparents filled her with joy. She had no clear memory of her great-grandmother though, and didn’t know what to expect. She had never met anyone so old before.

Philip Bell was waiting for them in the hospital’s reception area. He was a lean, patrician man with harmonious features, thinning silver hair, and bushy white eyebrows. He held out his arms, and Mercedes and Germaine ran into them. His eyes were moist when Mercedes kissed him on the cheek and introduced him to Jack.

As they shook hands, Philip looked up into the younger man’s face and took his measure. Jack looked into the older man’s face and saw Mercedes’s angular features and hazel eyes.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Philip said. “I hope you haven’t been inconvenienced on our account.”

“Not at all, sir. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to meet you. I hope my being here isn’t an imposition.”

Philip and Mercedes exchanged a meaningful look and hugged again.

“It’s so good to see you, Kid. Glad you brought some reinforcements.”

They checked in at the nurses’ station and walked to the room
where Elizabeth Stearn lay. An overdressed, perfectly coiffed woman in her late fifties stood at the bedside, holding forth with the staff. Heavy gold jewelry adorned her neck and ears, dangled from her wrists, and encircled several fingers. The scent of her French perfume filled the room. She wore an elaborate purple silk dress and impatiently tapped the toe of her designer pump as the nurse meekly recounted their efforts to awaken Elizabeth.

The frail, white-haired patient looked no larger than Germaine. She was propped up on pillows with IVs running into both arms. The heart monitor made quiet beeping noises. Her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful. The other bed in the room was empty and the curtain between the beds pulled back, exposing a picture window that faced the parking lot.

The commanding woman turned with a start when Philip cleared his throat and announced, “Eleanor, we have visitors.”

“Grandmother!” Germaine exclaimed and ran to Eleanor, who hugged her fiercely. Mercedes gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek, but Eleanor was already looking past her to the gentleman in a charcoal gray suit and royal blue tie who seemed to fill the doorway.

Jack smiled and fixed his gaze on Eleanor, who let go of her granddaughter and took a step in Jack’s direction, holding out her right hand to be kissed.

Philip said, “Eleanor, this is Mercedes’s friend, Mr. Jack Soutane, who has been kind enough to leave his law practice and join us.”

Ever gallant, Jack bowed and kissed the bejeweled hand. “Mrs. Bell, it is an honor.”

“Oh please, call me Eleanor,” she said, clearly stunned by his looks.

Mercedes crossed her arms. Watching her parents’ thinly veiled astonishment, she basked in the satisfaction of having been underestimated yet again, and by such a wide margin.

Germaine turned her attention to the tiny woman in the hospital bed. She stared at her aged, oval face. She hesitated, then held her great-grandmother’s hand, which was nearly as white as the bedding. Even the fingertips had wrinkles. Germaine watched her with fascination and wished she would wake up.

Mercedes bent over her grandmother and lifted her other hand a few inches off the blanket to kiss it. Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered in her sleep. Mercedes bent over farther and kissed the old woman’s cheek, then began talking softly into her ear.

Eleanor glowered at Mercedes. “She can’t hear anything. You’re wasting your breath.”

Mercedes ignored her mother. Eleanor sniffed, and asked a new nurse who had entered the room about the medication schedule. She then announced, without discussion, that they should all go to “the house” at once. She gave Jack a beatific smile, then held out her hand for Germaine. The girl left the bedside and thrust her small hand into Eleanor’s. As they filed out of the room, Jack put his hand on Mercedes’s back and stroked gently downward, as if smoothing ruffled fur.

In the parking lot, Germaine climbed into the back of the red Cadillac her grandparents were driving and waved to Mercedes, who winked at her. Jack and Mercedes took a moment just to sit in the rental car as the Cadillac pulled out of the driveway. He put his arm around her shoulders with an amused expression on his face and kissed her cheek.

He said, “Now I know.”

“Now you know what?”

“Now I know why you’re so reserved.”

They broke out laughing.

A
N IVY-COVERED EMBANKMENT CREATED
a barrier between the tree-lined road and the old estate at the foot of Mount Rubidoux. A long, curving brick walkway led through dappled shade across the well-maintained grounds. Gardenia bushes surrounded the mansion and its deep veranda. Freshly painted green shutters flanked the large windows. Jack and Mercedes walked hand in hand toward the open front door, where Philip was waiting for them. Eleanor was not in view, but her bold voice could be plainly heard instructing the housekeeper.

They entered a high-ceilinged drawing room, carpeted with oriental rugs and furnished with exquisite antiques. There was a massive brick fireplace in the center, with an oil painting of the Hudson River Valley hanging over the mantelpiece. A grandfather clock stood off to the side and chimed the hour. There were three separate sitting areas in the stately room. Two double doorways led to other rooms.

Entirely oblivious to Eleanor, Philip struck up an easy conversation with Jack, while Mercedes went off to find Germaine. The curious child was wandering down the hallway, exploring. Eleanor summoned them to the kitchen, in a voice that raised the hair on Mercedes’s arms.

“If the old gal can no longer live on her own here, I guess we’ll have to arrange home care or move her,” Philip was saying to Jack.

“There are a lot of options, particularly when one has assets,” Jack assured him. “I’m a probate and estate planning lawyer, and my clients deal with this all the time. As I’m sure you realize, a lot depends on whether Elizabeth has already made arrangements or put anything in writing, and how mentally competent she is.”

Philip invited Jack into the study. They crossed the hallway and entered a spacious wallpapered room overlooking the back gardens. An oak rolltop desk with an old manual typewriter on it faced the
windows. Philip poured himself some scotch from a crystal decanter and served Jack a drink.

They talked about the superpower summit in progress in Geneva, expressing admiration for both Reagan and Gorbachev. Philip was pleased that Jack seemed to share his views on foreign policy. The younger man was extremely well informed. Moreover, he was respectful and elicited Philip’s opinions. Philip felt as though he’d met a younger version of himself.

They sat in wing back chairs, looking out through a portico covered by trumpet vines to a small grove of citrus trees. Jack admired the bounty of green fruit on the trees and watched the gardeners at work.