When Venus Fell (50 page)

She and I leaped up and ran out of the suite. “I think she’s had a stroke,” Min cried softly.

I nodded.

I felt as if everything I loved was falling apart around me again.

For the second time in a week we gathered at the hospital in Knoxville. It turned out that Bea was in no serious danger; she’d suffered a very mild stroke and was able to talk slowly but intelligibly the next day.

Tests were done to check the arteries in her neck for blockage, but none was found. “She’s eighty years old. This kind of thing happens,” the cardiovascular specialist told us. “I don’t see any sign of long-term disability. The only thing that worries me now is her mental health. She seems very depressed.”

She lay in bed dully gazing at soap operas on her room’s television set, eating only because her regular doctor threatened to keep her hospitalized longer if she didn’t, and refusing most conversation.

Olivia insisted on staying with her constantly. Gib arranged for a cot. Olivia huddled beside Bea’s bed, watching her with profound sadness. There was a strange new dynamic between the two of them; something had happened before Bea collapsed, we were certain, but neither of them would answer when asked about it.

•   •   •

Bea came home two days later, but retreated to her room and wouldn’t get out of bed. “I’ve lost my heart,” she said repeatedly, with no explanation. She held Olivia’s hand because Olivia forced her, but she rarely looked at her. Gib and Min gently questioned Olivia, but she would only write,

“What did Emory whisper to you that upset you so much?” Gib persisted.

“You don’t have to fight now. That’s my job.”

I returned to the cottage, brooding over the strange turn of events while Ella continued to reject help. “I brought a care package,” Gib said. He set a wicker basket on the porch and lifted a checkered napkin to reveal containers filled with food.

Food was not what I needed. I wanted him to absorb me, I wanted to be naked with him, I wanted to press close to him and listen to his voice. Gib looked down at me with the same crackling intensity. “I’m taking you for a walk,” he said. Then he gripped my hand and led me into the woods. The weather was freezing; the ground was hard. We didn’t care. Once we were alone we were rough with urgency and need.

We walked back in the early-winter dusk. Ella had turned on the porch light but sat in the shadows, wrapped in a blanket. Gib saw her first and put a hand on my arm. We stopped at the foot of the steps. I felt guilty.

Carter drove up in his truck. He got out, looked at the odd scene—Gib and me standing in the yard, Ella hunched in a rocking chair in the shadows. “I just came to see if you were feelin’ better today,” he said to Ella.

She wobbled to her feet. “Can’t we talk? I’ve been thinking—maybe we could visit a priest for some marriage counseling.”

“I don’t need some outsider telling me what-for, darlin’. I need for you to make up your mind. If you need somebody to tell you how to think then we got a worse problem than I thought. I
know
what I think. I
know
how I feel. I don’t need a shrink to talk to.”

“You’re saying that I need that kind of help?”

“You’ve been making all the rules. Now I’m making some.”

He turned to leave, jerking his truck door open. She stumbled to the edge of the porch.
“Don’t go.”
She tripped and Gib lunged to catch her. I leaped forward, too. He caught her by the waist. I heard Carter running toward us.

“Ellie!” Carter said. He thrust his hands under her arms and helped guide her down on the top step. We sat in a mutual huddle.

“My head,” she murmured.

Carter got in front of her and dropped to one knee. He bent close to my sister and began stroking her hair. “I don’t understand. Is this one of your headaches?” She nodded.

“It’s a migraine, not an ordinary headache,” I told him. I looked at Gib. “I need your help to get her inside.” He eyed me meaningfully then nodded toward Carter. “Carter,” I corrected, “I need your help.”

Carter snared Ella around the waist. “I’m carryin’ you, darlin’,” he announced, his voice choked. “I’ve got you.” He carried her inside.

Gib and I looked at each other. “Do you think she’s faking?” he asked.

I hesitated. Then, “If it works, that’s all that matters.”

•   •   •

Carter was back on our doorstep the next morning. He’d spent most of the night watching Ella sleep. “I need to see my wife,” he said hopefully, “if she’s awake and feeling better.”

I called Ella, and finally she walked outside. She was dressed in her robe, pale and hollow-eyed, her black hair disheveled. “Are you still angry at me?” she asked.

“You’re my woman. If you move out on me then you never meant to stick with me forever. Enough of this hooey. You needed me last night. You need me now. Now come on with me, right this minute. I mean it.”

I could have kicked him. His domineering attitude blew the fragile reconciliation to shreds. Ella reacted by sinking into a rocking chair and clutching the armrests as if no force on earth could move her. “
You
think I’m a possession? You think you can order me to follow you as if I’m a
dog?
I can’t … touch you! I can’t bear to touch myself! I feel empty. I can’t even think. And you don’t understand!”

He gaped at her. “You don’t have to think. Just do what I tell you. I was trying to make it
easy
for you. Ellie, please. I don’t know what to say, goddammit.” Anger rose in his face. The moment of vulnerable entreaty evaporated. “I never knew my daddy, and my own mama left me with her kin. I won’t put up with being walked out on again.”

“I’m not good enough for you. That’s what you think. That’s what everyone in the family thinks. That I’m mentally defective and … and
barren
.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. I’m half-crazy myself over this, Ellie. So bad I went up to New Inverness the other night. I got stinkin’ drunk and called a couple of my old friends. They came and sat with me.”

“Girls?”

“That’s right. But nothing happened.”

“You’re telling me this to hurt me. You’re saying I’ve driven you to other women
already
.”

“Goddammit, Ellie, I’m telling you because I’m ashamed of it and I don’t want you to hear it from somebody else. Nothing happened.”

“If you want other women, then go and sleep with them. Have babies with
them
. Everyone would approve of your choice.” She fled indoors, crying. Carter turned numbly and wandered toward his truck. I stalked him across the yard.

“Don’t do it,” I said. “The women. Don’t do it.”

“I couldn’t,” he mumbled. Tears on his face, he leaned on the truck’s hood. His long hair dangled around his jaw. He looked terrible. “I can’t give up on her. But I can’t hang around here tearing myself up when she won’t even listen to me. I’ve had it. I’m leaving for Oklahoma tomorrow.”

“For how long?”

“Until Ellie agrees to come back to me.”

“This isn’t the way to deal with her.”

“It’s
my
way,” he said.

“Carter’s gone,” Gib told me.

We stood in the yard of the cottage the next afternoon. I exhaled wearily. “I have to think of some way to convince Ella he isn’t deserting her just like that bastard in Detroit did.”

“Do you want me to come inside and talk to her?”

“No.”

“I see. Do you realize how you’re making me feel? What your attitude is doing to
us?
”

“I’m taking care of my sister.”

“I’d help you if you’d let me. You’re as bad as she is. When the chips are down she rejects everyone but you. You’re doing the same thing for her sake.”

“She could end up in a hospital psych ward if this goes on much longer. I’ve got decisions to make.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

My heart was breaking. “It means I’ll take her away from here if I have to.”

Those words were like flint on stone. He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind now. “Forget it. You don’t want to go and I won’t let you do it.” His bald-faced warning, delivered not as a threat but as a simple statement of fact, left me speechless. His blunt possessiveness didn’t upset me; with alarming ease I loved him more than ever.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” I finally managed to say.

“I have enough problems already.”

“I see. So keeping me here is nothing personal.”

“I had to cancel all the bookings for this coming weekend.”

“Gib!”

He shook his head. “Ella’s sick, you can’t leave her side, Bea’s sick, Olivia’s obsessed with her and Emory, Carter’s gone, and Ruth’s staying away because no one’s speaking to her. I had no choice.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. Any of it.”

He dragged me into his arms and we kissed with the easy wildness I knew so well. When I finally caught my breath and, crying silently, pushed myself away from him, I glimpsed a movement and looked quickly toward the porch. Ella stood there, staring at us woozily. She squinted in the sunlight and rubbed her forehead. Gib and I traded worried looks.

“Y’all should have told me the truth about your situation,” Ella complained in a soft, tired voice. “Sis, you don’t have to hide your life from me. You never used to.” She fumbled with her hands and her gaze dropped. “Of course I don’t have any right to say that, after what I’ve hidden from you. And … and from my own husband.”

Gib walked up the steps to her. “He loves you, Ella. You have to believe me. And this family is still
your
family. Nobody wants you to leave.”

“I need to talk to Carter. Where is he? At the barns? I have to talk to him right away. I can’t stand this. I’m so afraid of losing him. I know I’m not making much sense, but I’m so afraid.”

I hurried up on the porch and put an arm around her. “He’s not close by right now.”

“Where is he? What do you mean—he’s not
close by?
”

I took a deep breath. “He’s just taken a little trip to visit Hoover Bird and Goldfish. He left this morning.”

She clutched her chest.
“Is he coming back?”

“Of course. Of course.” I held on to her and looked at Gib frantically.

“When?” she mewled.

“He’ll come as soon as I tell him you want to see him,” Gib assured her.

“You mean he didn’t say for sure if he was coming back at all. He might
never
come back!” She hunched over, gagging, sobbing. “Pop didn’t care about me. A man I loved and trusted left me in Detroit. Now the man I love more than my own life has left me, too.”

I held Ella by one arm. She felt too loose, a little disjointed. Alarm raced through me. She was squinting so hard her eyes were barely open. “Air,” she begged. She put a hand to her head, then began to sink. “Lean this way,” Gib ordered, and she eased against him as her legs folded.

I cupped my hand under her chin. She wasn’t pretending, this time. “We’ll get you inside and into bed, and you’ll be all right. No more acting. I’ll give you one of your pills.”

Gib carried her to bed. She hadn’t dressed in days; I pulled her robe off and helped her change her sweat-soaked flannel nightgown. “He’s not coming back,” she whispered. “He left me, Vee. I’ll never see him again. And I love him so much. What have I done?”

I gave her a migraine pill, then pulled the bed quilt over her and smoothed her hair. I fought a lifetime of cynicism and months of doubt and said simply, “I believe he loves you. And I believe he’ll be back.”

As the medication took effect she slowly fell asleep.

I went into the main room. “How is she?” Gib asked.

“She’s in bad shape. But the pill should give her a good twelve hours of sleep.”

“Listen, Carter said he was going to head into the hills with Hoover Bird. They planned to build a sweat lodge. I won’t even know where he is before tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Gib, if he doesn’t come back to her I’m afraid she might do something. Being deserted is her worst fear. That’s why I’ve always worked so hard to show her that I’ll
never
leave her.”

“I’ll fly up to Oklahoma tomorrow and find him. But I can’t promise he’ll come back.” Gib walked to the door then halted and looked at me. “I know she swallowed a handful of sleeping pills that time in Detroit.”

I didn’t like to remember that, or talk about it. She’d downed the pills while in a stupor from a migraine. When she woke up at the hospital the next day she couldn’t remember taking them, but I’d never forgotten. I could only look at Gib. “I wish in all your research on us you’d found a few
good
surprises.”

“I did,” he said. “I found you.”

My travel clock read one
A.M
. when I woke up on the sleeper sofa in the cottage’s front room, where I’d stretched out to leave Ella undisturbed in bed. I felt peculiar—that panicky sensation of waking up lost in time and place. Wandering into the bedroom to see how she was sleeping, I noticed her slippers in the middle of the floor, though I was sure I’d left them neatly by the dresser.

I moved slowly in the darkened room and brushed a hand out to smooth the covers over Ella’s legs. My fingers met cool sheets and jumbled quilt. “Ella?” I shuffled my hands over the bed as if she might be hiding, then switched on a lamp and pivoted slowly, slack-jawed, searching the room. I ran to the bathroom and flung the door open. I ran back to the front room, calling her name. The door stood ajar. The cold January breeze rattled sheet music on the piano.

“Oh, my God.” I raced barefoot to the car, snatched a flashlight from the glove compartment, and shone the light into the eerie wall of forest surrounding the cottage. I circled the cottage several times, shouting for her to wake up. My voice echoed back to me. The mountains channeled sounds in startling ways, sometimes carrying a hunter’s gunshot, the bawl of a hungry calf, or the giggle of a screech owl miles from the source.