Calico Palace (59 page)

“Oh God help her!” Marny murmured. “Kendra’s baby!”

Mrs. Chase nodded, drying her tears. “Now I’ll tell Kendra you’re here,” she said.

“If Kendra doesn’t feel able to see me,” said Marny, “it’s all right. Just give her my love.”

“I think she’ll want to see you. She’s with the baby now. Wait here.”

Mrs. Chase went down the hall, past the door of the parlor, into the dining room. Marny remembered how happy they had been as they sat around the table there. How different it was now! On the table the baby’s necessities, beside it the crib, and in the crib the baby, gasping his little life away.

—If I could only
do
something, she thought. Anything, to help.

But she could think of nothing she could do. She had no idea of nursing. She had never rocked a cradle nor changed a diaper in her life.

Kendra came out of the dining room, closing the door silently behind her. Even in the half-light it was plain that she had grown thinner during the past week. Marny went to meet her, put her arms around Kendra’s shoulders and kissed her. “You dear brave girl,” she said softly.

Kendra moved a step backward. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said in a voice like a tired little thread. “But—please don’t give me any sympathy. I can’t bear it.”

Beckoning Marny to come with her she went into the parlor. Marny followed.

In the parlor the air was stale and cold. Though this room too was dim there was more light here than in the hall, and Marny could see that Kendra’s face was white and rigid. Her child was dying and she was facing the fact of it.

Kendra caught Marny’s hands in a hard, nervous grip. Marny thought—She’s drawing on her strength like drawing money out of a bank. She won’t realize how much she’s taking out until it’s all used up.

Marny asked, “Kendra, is there
anything
I can do to help you?”

To her surprise Kendra nodded. “Yes. Be my best friend.”

“Yes, dear,” Marny said earnestly. “I am your best friend. Tell me what you want of me.”

“I think—I want—you to listen,” said Kendra. Her grip on Marny’s hands was so tight it was almost painful. Marny guessed that every muscle in her body was tense. Kendra went on. “Marny, I can’t say this to anybody else. But I can say it to you because you know already.”

Her eyes, darkly circled, looked into Marny’s with a desperate plea for understanding. Marny waited.

“Marny,” said Kendra, “you know—you haven’t said it but you know—I’ve never given anything to Loren. He has given to me and given to me. All I’ve done is take what he gave. Now I’m giving him something. He loves that child so much.”

She was speaking steadily, with a bleak and terrible courage.

“I don’t think—the doctor doesn’t think—Loren is going to get well. If we’re wrong, if he does get well, then he’ll have to know. But if he doesn’t get well, then—I’ll have spared him what I’m going through now. If these are the last days of his life, I can give him peace in these days. Will you help me?”

Marny drew a deep breath to ease the tightness in her own chest. “I’ll do anything I can, Kendra. But what can I do?”

“You can stay here,” said Kendra. “I don’t mean
do
anything. Serena and Ralph and Mrs. Chase and the doctor, they’re doing everything. But you—if you will—just be around.” She loosened her grip on Marny’s hands and made a gesture toward the sofa. “You can sit here. Keep out of the way. But just—be around. It will make it easier, knowing you’re here. I don’t know why, but it will. So just be around. Will you?”

“Yes, Kendra, I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Kendra looked about the room, as if only half seeing what was before her. “If there’s any coffee on the stove I’ll tell Serena to bring you some. Thank you.”

She went out. Marny opened a window. A wind was rising, blowing the fog. The air came damply against her face.

The door opened and Serena stood on the threshold. She spoke abruptly. “There isn’t any coffee made but Mrs. Shields told me to put on a pot for you.” Usually so pleasant of manner, today she was blunt, almost harsh. “It will be ready soon,” she said.

“Thank you, Serena,” said Marny. “Mrs. Shields is a brave—”

“Please—I can’t talk about it,” said Serena. She went out as abruptly as she had come in. Marny remembered that Serena knew, better than she herself, better even than Mrs. Chase, what Kendra was enduring. Serena had watched death come to a baby of her own. As she saw Kendra now, she was almost living through it again. No wonder her manner was brusque. She was covering the memory of pain.

There was a knock at the front door. Marny gave a start. Of course—Dwight Carson, here to escort her down to the plaza. She had forgotten he existed.

She went to the door, but found Serena already opening it. Dwight was there, and with him were Hiram and Pocket. Hiram was explaining. After his midday lunch he had dropped into the library, and had been reading a New York newspaper when Dwight came in. Dwight had told them both about Loren’s attack, and they wanted to ask how he was. Could they come in for a minute or two?

“Mr. Shields is not well at all,” said Serena. “I don’t think you’d better come in.” She was speaking hesitantly, afraid she might say too much. Kendra had told her not to drop any hint about the baby, lest it get to Loren.

“I’ll speak to the gentlemen, Serena,” Marny offered. She smiled at Serena reassuringly, as if they shared a conspiracy. “We won’t disturb Mr. Shields.” She indicated the parlor. “Come in here, won’t you?”

The three men went in with her. Marny told them about Loren’s waking before daybreak with that dagger of pain stabbing his side. She said nothing about the baby, but she told them Kendra had asked her to stay here the rest of the day. “So, I won’t be going down to look at the Calico Palace,” she said to Dwight.

Dwight saw that she was distressed. He laid it to her concern about Loren, for she had made no secret of the fact that Loren was seriously stricken. He yielded at once, kind and sympathetic, so sympathetic that she liked him more than ever. He would go on with the work, he said. Everything would be done right. She could trust him. Looking straight at him, Marny said sincerely,

“I do trust you, Dwight. I’d like to go with you now, but as long as my dear friend needs me I must stay here. Thank you for understanding.”

Dwight smiled at her. Marny wondered if Pocket and Hiram caught the message that passed between them.

Dwight went out. They heard the door close after him. Pocket asked for more details about Loren. And how was Kendra? “And can’t we
do
something?” Hiram demanded. Hiram and Pocket were both well dressed in dark suits and white shirts, though as usual Pocket’s suit was lumpy with his possessions and Hiram’s thick tawny hair was tumbled about as if it had never felt a comb. Marny answered them carefully.

“Hiram, Pocket, Loren is very ill. It seems the nail tore some internal organ, and the nail may have been rusty. I’m afraid it was. I came here, like you, to ask if there was any help I could give. Kendra asked me to stay. But as for you two—I think you’d better go. Mr. Chase has gone back to his work because he knew he was of no use here. I believe you should do the same. I’ll tell Kendra you came in and she’ll be grateful. Now please, I think she would want you to go.”

“Oh no I don’t,” said Kendra’s voice from the doorway.

She stood there, her face like something cut out of a rock. Her hands were gripping each other, her fingers twisting around and around. She spoke again in that tight breathless voice.

“Hiram, Pocket—Serena told me you were here.” Her lips moved in a trembly little smile. “You don’t know—what it means—having my best friends with me. Please don’t go.”

Pocket and Hiram spoke together, assuring her that they would stay as long as she wanted them. Kendra drew a quick hard breath.

“You don’t know—Marny, tell them about—I can’t—”

“About what?” exclaimed Hiram.

Kendra untangled her hands and made a gesture toward the room where the baby was. “About—Marny will tell you.”

She left them. Their eyes full of anxious questioning, the two men turned to Marny. Marny was listening to Kendra’s footsteps going up the stairs, toward the room where Loren lay suffering pain of the body but mercifully spared Kendra’s pain of the heart.

Pocket came and sat on the sofa by her. Hiram sat on the floor in front of her, his big rough hands linked around his knees.

“What did she want you to tell us?” Hiram asked.

Marny told them. She did not include what Kendra had said to her about giving Loren something in return for all he had given her. She told them simply that the baby was believed to be dying, and Loren knew nothing about it. Kendra was telling him, over and over, that the baby was well.

Hiram and Pocket looked at each other. Hiram scrambled to his feet, as if movement was a vent for his feelings.

“But can’t we
do
something?” he demanded of the air.

Marny shook her head. Pocket gently reminded him,

“Sometimes, Hiram, people can’t do anything.”

Hiram stood there with a look of hurt disbelief. He hardly knew how to accept a situation where his own rugged vitality was of no use.

“There must be something!” he insisted, almost angrily.

Pocket stood up and went to him and spoke firmly. “Hiram, there’s nothing we can do. Except stay here. Kendra wants us to stay. Maybe, at that, we’re doing something. So sit in this chair, and keep your voice down if you can.” Hiram took the chair. They all three sat silently, doing nothing.

Mrs. Chase came in, bringing a tray on which there were cups and a pot of coffee. The men sprang up, so swiftly that Marny thought it looked less like good manners than eagerness to loosen their taut muscles. As she set the tray on the table Mrs. Chase said,

“It’s good of you folks to be here.”

“How is the baby?” asked Pocket.

“He’s just—there,” said Mrs. Chase. Across her plump friendly face went a twitch of pity as she added, “But he won’t be there much longer.”

“And Loren?” asked Hiram.

“Conscious. In his right mind. But—” Mrs. Chase swallowed hard and went on. “The doctor has looked at his wound again. I helped him take off the wrappings. Dreadful.” A shudder ran through her. “Festered, and blue lines shooting out of it. Dr. Rollins is going to stay here tonight. He’ll give Loren a dose to make him sleep. I’ve got to go now. Good of you to be here.”

She went out. Marny poured the coffee. Fresh and hot, it made them all feel stronger.

They waited. The parlor was chilly and unwelcoming. They had raised the window shades, but the light that came in was filtered to a dull gray by the fog. Everything in the room looked vaguely out of order. Kendra had never been the sort of housekeeper who insists that every knickknack have its place and stay there, but her home had always been well cared for. Now the room had a look of being forgotten.

Marny set down her empty cup.

“And I thought I had something to cry about,” she murmured, “when I lost the Calico Palace!”

“Kendra’s not crying,” said Hiram.

“She doesn’t dare to,” said Pocket. “Not yet. She’ll cry later.”

“If she can hold out,” said Marny.

“She will,” said Hiram.

“Will you men come back tomorrow,” asked Marny, “if she wants you?”

Speaking together, they said they certainly would. Pocket said the library could get along without him or close up, he didn’t care which. Hiram said if his partner Eustis couldn’t take care of the bank for a few days, they would go broke and he didn’t give a damn.

Again they fell silent. From outside they could hear the clop of hoofs, shouts of drivers, voices of men hailing each other as they went up and down the plank sidewalk. The noises from the street seemed to make heavier the silence in the room.

Mrs. Chase came in, with Ralph and Serena. “Do you think,” asked Mrs. Chase, “you could eat something with us? We’ve set bread and cold beef on the kitchen table, and I’ve made cocoa.”

Hiram and Pocket said they had had lunch and were not hungry again. Marny had had nothing to eat since her breakfast of coffee and dried pears, but she too felt no appetite.

“It’s hard to eat,” said Serena.

“You’d better, honey,” Ralph said to her anxiously. “People have to keep on eating. Can’t live on coffee.”

He was right, of course, thought Marny. But she herself, like Serena, felt no interest in bread and beef.

They heard footsteps in the hall. Dr. Rollins came in, good, jovial Dr. Rollins, who had done the best he could. His face had a beaten look, the look of the doctor who has tried to save promising and useful lives, and has failed.

He closed the door behind him. They had all turned to him, and they knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“It’s over with the baby,” he announced bluntly.

Marny caught her breath with a little wordless sound. Serena choked back a sob. Mrs. Chase put her handkerchief to her eyes. Pocket said,

“You did all you could, doctor. We know that.”

“He sure did,” said Ralph. “We saw it.”

Hiram drew a deep breath. He looked around at them all. “Now who,” he asked, “is going to tell Kendra?”

Nobody answered.

But they did not have to tell her. As if she too had heard the doctor’s footsteps as he came out of the room where he had watched over her baby, Kendra came downstairs from Loren’s room. She opened the door to the parlor and stood in the doorway and looked around at them. For a moment nobody had courage to speak. Then the doctor cleared his throat.

“Mrs. Shields—” he began.

“Yes,” said Kendra. Again she looked from one of them to another. In that strange monotone she said, “I think—I know what you’re trying to say. My baby. This—is this the end?”

“Yes, Mrs. Shields,” said Dr. Rollins.

Marny put an arm around her. Kendra moved out of her embrace. “Please,” she said, “please, I want to be by myself for a few minutes.”

“Of course, dear,” said Marny.

For a moment Kendra did not move. They saw that her hands were holding each other in such a clench that the knuckles were white. “Wait here for me,” she said. Significantly, she said it again. “Here. In this room. Will you?”