The Woman Who Fell From Grace (27 page)

Gordie was, placed in the children’s ward of the state mental hospital in Charlottesville for observation. A team of child psychiatrists interviewed and tested him. It didn’t take them long to diagnose that he needed permanent care. At the insistence of Mercy Glaze he was transferred to a private children’s mental hospital nearby. The cost, seven hundred dollars a day, will be paid by the Glazes. His case will be reviewed every couple of years. He may get out someday. For now he has his own room and bath, and there’s a baseball team.

Our last night at Shenandoah, Lulu woke me at the usual time for our usual date. She was particularly anxious. I’d been packing all evening — she knew we were leaving. I was anxious myself. I didn’t know what she was going to do. Would she choose Bowser over me? Would she stay behind? Would I let her? Did I have a right to interfere? I didn’t know.

Roy was still pulling wall duty. And still asleep on the job. He didn’t hear us approach. Didn’t see Bowser burrow under the wall and start toward us. Didn’t see Bowser stop and turn and casually wait for his companion to burrow under it, too.

She was a collie. A real fox, too.

Lulu was so stunned she sounded as if she were going to choke.

Bowser wasn’t particularly happy to see her. He sniffed at her coolly, as if she were a bad memory. The collie showed Lulu her teeth, the bitch. Then the two of them kept on going across the pasture. I guess they were just crossing Shenandoah on their way home. Or maybe he’d purposely gone out of his way — just to rub Lulu’s nose in it. That’s the sort of guy he was. Lulu sat there at my feet and watched them go, whimpering. Then she began to shake and tried to climb up my leg. I picked her up and carried her back to our quarters and gave her a bowl of milk with a slug of Macallan in it. She lapped it all up and fell instantly to sleep.

I didn’t say it. I didn’t say I told you so. It wouldn’t have done any good, and she’d have bit me.

Polk Four stopped by in the morning to see us off. I was loading up the Jag when he pulled up in his cruiser, clean shaven and crisply pressed as ever. Still, he looked different to me. Not so certain of himself and his mission in life. That’ll happen when the earth moves under your feet for the first time.

“Want to hear something funny, Hoagy?” he said, striding over to me.

“Desperately.”

“I thought this whole business would drive Mercy and me apart. Send each of us running for cover. It hasn’t. If anything, it’s brought the two of us closer, in a way we never were before. It’s as if we share something.”

“You do. You’ve both joined the so-called real world. Welcome to it.”

“Thanks.” He stuck out his hand and smiled. “Thanks, pardner.”

I shook it. “So long, pardner,” I said, smiling back at him, liking him.

Pam came outside then with Mercy and Frederick. Richard and Charlotte followed. Those two seemed quite shy around each other now. She also seemed a little less drab to me now. There was a hint of color to her cheeks, a liveliness to her step. Maybe it was just my imagination. But I do know Richard’s nervous tic had vanished. He was at ease. He was also sober. He carried Pam’s suitcases. There was only room for one of them in the trunk. The other we’d have to ship north with the rest of my stuff.

“I’ll be sending you more pages as soon as I have them,” I informed Mercy. “Partly for your research assistance. Mostly for your approval. You’re the boss now. The book won’t get into print unless you like it.”

“I know I’ll love it,” she assured me.

“Don’t say that. I’m a writer like any other — I need someone to put their foot on my neck and keep it there.” Polk Four frowned at this. “Figure of speech, Sheriff,” I explained.

Mercy drew herself up. “Very well,” she said sternly. “I’ll expect several chapters by the end of the month, and they’d just better be up to Grandmother’s standards.”

“That’s more like it, boss.”

“Thank you.” She giggled, made a quick, awkward step toward me, and kissed my cheek, blushing furiously. Then she lunged for the security of Polk, who put his arm around her, proud as can be. God, they were sturdy.

I shook hands with Richard and Charlotte and wished the two of them luck. Frederick as well.

“Absolutely sure I can’t talk you into taking on this book of mine next?” Frederick asked me.

“Positive.”

“That’s too bad. Think they’d let me have a woman writer?” he wondered.

“I don’t see why not,” I replied.

“Yes, I think a woman’s sensitivity would be a genuine asset,” he mused aloud, nodding. “Any suggestions?”

“One. Keep your hands to yourself.”

He turned to Pam, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Sure you have to leave, dear? Seems like we’re just getting to know each other.”

“Quite sure,” Pam replied curtly.

We got into the Jag. Lulu and Sadie curled up on the floor together at Pam’s feet, Sadie using Lulu as a pillow, and Lulu letting her. She was so depressed nothing bothered her. Actually, the two of them seemed to be growing on each other. Because of their shared diet, Sadie thought Lulu was a cat and Lulu thought Sadie was a dog. I wasn’t about to break the truth to either of them.

Frederick’s eyes hadn’t left Pam. He waved good-bye somewhat wistfully.

“The man’s an absolute beast,” she murmured to me.

“We all are, Pam,” I said, starting up the engine. “It’s just that some of us are better at hiding it. I’d have thought you’d have no problem handling him.”

“As would I,” she admitted, sighing. “Except that when they’re as terribly handsome as he is, I have a frightful time saying no. In fact, I can’t.”

“Why, Pam,” I gasped, shocked. “You slut.”

“It’s high time you found out,” she said. “After all, we are going to be living together.”

Everyone waved good-bye. We waved back. Then I let out the Jag’s parking brake and eased it down the twisting drive and out the front gate. We started for home.

I don’t ever want to see another goddamned peacock again as long as I live.

I found Gordie sitting outside on the lawn, glumly tossing his ball against a retaining wall and catching it with his mitt. There were other boys out there playing ball, but he was ignoring them. The hospital had nice grounds, lots of grass, and trees and walking paths. You almost didn’t notice the fence.

He lit up when he saw me. “Hey, Hoagy! How ya doing?”

“Just fine, Gordie. Heading up to Connecticut. I wanted to say good-bye.”

“Can I come with you?” he begged. “Pleath?”

I shook my head.

“How come they’re making me live here, Hoagy?”

“I guess they think it’s for the best.”

“How come?”

I took the ball from him. “Go deep. I’ll throw you one.”

He eagerly trotted off across the lawn. I wound up and sent one high through the air toward him. He picked up the flight of it right away, drifted back and to his left, and punched his mitt. He was there waiting for it when it came down.

I joined him, rubbing my shoulder. We walked.

“I’ll be keeping Sadie for you,” I told him.

“They won’t let me have her here.”

“I know. I’ll take good care of her. She’s still your cat. When you’re ready for her, just let me know. I gave them my address at the desk in case you ever want to write her. Or me. Okay?”

“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder to see if we were alone, then looked up at me slyly. “Keep a theecret, Hoagy?” Sure.

A sneaky grin crossed his face. “C’mere. Wanna show ya thumthin’.”

He led me into the trees over by the fence, behind some bushes. “You may sthee me thooner than ya think,” he whispered, kicking at the undergrowth with his foot.

There was a big hole in the earth there under one of the bushes. He was digging. Tunneling out.

I must have gotten a whiff of pollen. My eyes were suddenly bothering me, and I had trouble swallowing. I grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him up, hugged him tightly to my chest.

He squirmed in my arms. “Hey, what’d you do that for?” he demanded, horrified.

“I don’t know.” I put him down.

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“I’m not a baby, y’know.”

“I know. Sorry.” I stuck out my hand. “See you, Gordie.”

He shook it. “Sthee ya.”

I started walking away.

“Hey, Hoagy!” he called after me.

I stopped. “Yeah, Gordie?”

“Take it thlow.”

I smiled. “Slows the only way to take it.”

I went back to the car without looking back.

We cleared Washington by lunchtime and beat the rush hour out of New York onto the New England Thruway. It was nearing dusk when we crossed the Connecticut River into Old Lyme. Lulu jumped into Pam’s lap and stuck her large black nose out the window as we made our way up Route 156 into the rolling hills of Lyme. Spring was happening all over again up here. The forsythia was ablaze, the apple trees and dogwoods blossoming. It would be nice to go through spring for a second time. This one might even make up for the first one.

Lulu started to whoop when I turned off onto the narrow country lane that dead-ended at those old stone walls flanking the dirt driveway. I stopped for a second to take it all in — the lush green fields, the fruit trees and duck pond, the snug old yellow house and chapel, big red carriage barn, Merilee’s beloved old Land-Rover. Lulu, impatient, jumped out and sped up the drive without us.

She found her mommy out behind the house turning over her vegetable garden. She had on rubber boots and old jeans and a flannel shirt that once belonged to me. Her waist-length golden hair was in a braided ponytail, and she had mud all over her face. Lulu was whooping and moaning. Merilee knelt in the rich soil, stroking her. She looked up at me a bit warily when she heard me approach.

“Thought I’d finish the book here, if you don’t mind,” I said.

She turned back to Lulu. “I don’t mind.”

“I can stay in the chapel,” I offered.

“If you wish,” she said, her eyes still on Lulu.

“I don’t.”

“Then don’t,” she said. “Stay in the chapel, I mean.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Good.”

We both watched Lulu.

“It turned sour on her,” I reported. “He dumped her.”

“The brute.”

“I did what I could, but she desperately needs a mother’s touch right now.”

“My poor baby,” she said, rubbing Lulu’s ears. “She’s lost her innocence.”

“It’s true. She’s already started reading Erica Jong.”

Merilee looked up at me. “Hoagy?”

“Yes, Merilee?”

“Hello.”

“Hello yourself,” I said.

She got to her feet and started toward me. She stopped, peered at something over my shoulder. “Is that … Pam in the car?”

“She needs a place to stay. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind? Gracious, I just hope I’m worthy of her.”

“You’ll more than do.”

“But I look terrible,” she said, brushing herself off.

“Just awful,” I agreed, grinning.

She came up to me and kissed me and fingered the bandage on the side of my head, her brow creased with concern.

I took her in my arms and held her. “Just a minor brush with death,” I said, getting lost in her green eyes. “How’s Elliot?”

“Hmpht.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” she replied primly.

“What did he … ?”

“He got fresh.”

“He got what?”

“You heard me. The big fat gherkin knocked me over and … ”

“And what, Merilee?”

“Never mind.”

“Did he put his snout where he shouldn’t have?”

“
Mister
Hoagy!”

“You can’t blame the fellow, Merilee. You put him back in the pink. It was just his way of saying thank you.”

“That’s not what Mr. Hewlett said. He gave me a severe tongue-lashing.”

“Elliot or Mr. Hewlett?”

“Stop it. He said I shouldn’t have gotten so close to him, what with his age and the time of year and all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re also a lot better looking than what he’s used to. Smell a hell of a lot better, too. So what did you do?”

“Stick around for a somewhat tardy Easter supper and you’ll find out,” she replied wickedly.

“No … ”

“Mr. Hewlett said it was the proper thing to do.”

“Well, well. This is a whole new pioneer side of you, Merilee.”

“It is. Producers had better watch themselves around me from now on, or risk the consequences. Ex-husbands, too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Do so.”

There was some business going on at our feet now. Sadie was rubbing up against my leg and yowling.

“And who might this be?” Merilee wondered, picking her up and cradling her in the crook of her arm. Sadie dabbed at her sleeve with her paws and began to make small motorboat noises.

“Don’t ask me. Never saw her before.”

“Hoagy … ”

“Her name is Sadie. She’s kind of on permanent loan. Not a terrible mouser. Every farm should have one, don’t you think?”

She smiled at me. “I thought you hated cats.”

“I do.” I sighed. “It’s a long story, and not a pretty one.”

She gave me her up-from-under look, the one that makes my knees wobble. “I’ve got time.”

“I haven’t. Excuse me.” I started for the house.

“Where are you going?” she called after me.

I went in the back door into the big old farm kitchen. I still had half a bottle of Glenmorangie in the cupboard. I poured two fingers in a glass and added some well water from the tap and drank it down. Out the window I could see Merilee and Pam cheerfully getting reacquainted out by the duck pond. I made myself another stiff one before I picked up the wall phone. I dialed the number from memory. My hands shook. My heart was pounding. It rang twice and then I heard the voice. And then I said it.

I said, “Hello, Dad.”

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