Nora and Liz (14 page)

She’d tried to imagine herself going on a date with him, necking in a car, the way Marsha told her “everyone” did, letting him touch her, put his hands on her breasts, stick his tongue in her mouth and dart it back and forth the way Marsha had described.

But it was hard to imagine, somehow. It had made her shiver, feel vaguely—what? Half sick, half excited.

There hadn’t been any other friends.

But Ralph had been a friend to her sometimes, back when she’d been little, telling her stories and taking her fishing, taking her and Corinne out for Sunday drives in the old Ford. He’d even taken them out to lunch a few times, calling them “my two best girls,” and opening doors and pulling out chairs for them. He’d never taken them to dinner, for that was too expensive, but lunch had been fun.

He hadn’t let Nora have lunch out with Marsha, though, when she was in high school. He’d changed by then, guarding her more closely, growing more suspicious of outsiders, angry, it seemed to Nora, at the world.

What would it be like to have lunch with a friend?

To
have
a friend?

Restlessly, thinking again of Liz, Nora got up, easing Thomas into his basket by the stove. The moon had moved a little now; the path on the floor was a half-path, and shadows lurked in the back yard. The woodshed looked like a large prehistoric animal hunched near the back stoop, the barn loomed beyond the garden, and the outhouse looked more tilted than it really was. What will I do, she wondered absently, when it falls down?

She could recall Liz’s laughing eyes—that is how she thought of them: “laughing eyes,” like the Longfellow poem, only that was Edith, wasn’t it? But Allegra was the one who laughed: “Grave Alice and laughing Allegra”—yes, but wasn’t it “Edith with laughing eyes”? Or was it some other kind of eyes? She’d have to look it up.

Liz’s eyes had laughed, but had seemed pain-filled once, when she’d glanced away. And they’d held sympathy when she’d looked at Ralph. How nice she’d been to him, how kind! And yet exasperated, too.

A kindred spirit.

Would it be charity, letting Liz take me shopping?

Perhaps not if I helped her with her garden.

And perhaps we could become friends, just for the summer, till she has to go back. For she will go back, of course, to her teaching; Liz had mentioned that she taught high school.

What would that be like, Nora wondered, teaching great huge children, high school boys and girls in New York City? One would have to be brave and firm to do that. Brave and firm…

“What in thunder are you doing up?” Ralph, shoving the door open, clumped his walker into the kitchen. His pajama top was flopping around his waist and his bathrobe was open. As usual, when he was ready for the night, he wore no bottoms and the moonlight fell on his thinning pubic hair, his incongruously heavy, sagging testicles and limp penis.

A wave of disgust swept over Nora. “Father, cover yourself!” she said sharply. “I might ask you the same thing, about being up.”

He looked down at his body in surprise, then clumsily pulled his bathrobe closed, swaying as soon as he let go of the walker.

“Too much noise,” he said, though Nora had heard nothing but Thomas’s quiet purr. “I’m dizzy.” He reached for the back of a chair.

Nora had an overpoweringly evil desire to push him over, to wrestle him to the ground; it blinded her with its intensity. She forced a smile, she hoped a sweet one, to counter the feeling, pushing it back, denying it. For of course it wasn’t a true desire, really; it was the fault of the hour, the moonlight, her wandering thoughts resenting interruption.

“I’m sorry you’re dizzy,” she said, but not as kindly as she’d planned. “Would you like some cocoa?”

“My stomach…” he began, but then gave her a little-boy smile, one she still found charming, one that still moved her. “Yes,” he said, sinking into the chair.

So they sat having cocoa while Thomas purred, and Nora read Ralph the page she was working on, first telling him the plot so far. He probably missed some of it, she realized, not that it mattered, for his eyes soon closed. When cocoa-spittle dribbled out of his mouth, Nora shook him awake and led him, she hoped gently, back to bed.

***

An hour later, when the moon had moved to the front of the house and Nora had reached the end of the galleys, she went outside and sat in the dark near the garden, quietly stroking Thomas, enjoying the quiet. Later still, when she checked on her parents as she always did before sleeping, she found Ralph sitting by Corinne’s bedside, holding her hand. There was a faint sweet smile on Corinne’s sleeping face, but there were dried tears on Ralph’s. Nora thought again of stories and fishing and long-ago excursions, and found tears welling up in her own eyes as she helped her now-docile father once again to bed.

***

When Liz got back to the cabin that night, she found a note stuck in the screen door. “Came by to say hello and invite you to come see my garden tomorrow. Took the liberty of walking around a bit. Nice piece of land! Still would like to see more of it. Will call later. Roy.”

Angrily, she squeezed the note into a crumpled ball and tossed it into the fireplace.

And when the phone rang half an hour later, and half an hour after that, she ignored it.

The third time, she took it off the hook.

At eight o’clock the next morning, the phone rang again, and this time Liz did answer it, barking “Hello?” angrily into the receiver.

But it was Nora.

“I was thinking,” Nora said shyly when Liz had apologized for answering rudely, explaining that someone she didn’t like had been trying to get her, “about what you said about your garden, and my shopping and all, and—well, I was right about Mrs. Brice having company. So if it’s still all right with you, I could give Mrs. Brice Friday off, and see you. I mean if…”

“That’s wonderful!” Liz said, filled with unexpected (but was it really unexpected?) pleasure at hearing Nora’s voice. “Friday’s fine. What time shall I get you? We could make a day of it if you’d like.”

“I
would
like,” Nora said, “but I can’t be away very long. Just a couple of hours. Maybe one, one o’clock, I mean, not one hour? Or two o’clock?”

“Could you come here for lunch?” Liz asked quickly. “We could eat while we’re looking at the garden if you’re really in a hurry.”

Nora laughed. “That’s too much of a hurry.” She paused a moment. “Lunch?” Her voice was softer when she spoke again, almost shy, Liz thought. “Yes, I think so. I could leave my parents’ lunch with the girl who takes care of them when I’m out. Yes, wonderful! Thank you. And then…”

“And then I could take you to do your shopping. No problem. I’ll probably have to do some of my own by then. What do you like for lunch? Sandwiches? Salad? Soup? What do you usually have?”

“Oh, anything. Any of those is fine.”

“What about fish?” Liz asked recklessly. “I make a mean grilled salmon.”

“Oh, but that’s far too much trouble! And too expensive.” But Liz could hear longing in her voice.

“Grilled outdoors,” Liz said. “That gives it a wonderful smoky flavor. If you like that.”

Nora laughed again, even more shyly this time. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, I do. It’s been ages since I’ve had salmon. Father doesn’t trust fish.”

“Then that’s settled,” Liz told her happily. “Settled.” She paused for a moment, but Nora didn’t seem to be going to say anything more. “I’ll see you Friday, then. What time should I pick you up? How about twelve-thirty? Or is that too early? You said…”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll have to check with Patty, though; that’s the girl. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Great! Hey, you’re using the new phone! Good for you. Does it feel weird?”

“Yes. Yes, it does. Very weird. A little bit like magic.”

“If you think that’s magic,” Liz said, “
wait’ll
you see my TV set.”

“Gee, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it! Too much technology all at once. I bet you’ve got a modern stove, too, and a refrigerator, and a dishwasher.”

“No dishwasher,” Liz said, “but the others. And lots and lots of electricity. Sitting around in—in bushel baskets, just waiting to be used. I’ll lend you some if you like.”

“I’d love it.” Here Nora’s voice faded and Liz could hear Ralph’s in the background, gruff and angry. Damn him, she thought; damn that old man!

“Liz, I’ve got to go now. But I’ll see you Friday, half-past twelve unless Patty can’t come then.” Ralph’s voice grew louder. “I’ll call you if there’s any need to change it,” Nora said hastily. “ ’Bye.”

Before Liz could say goodbye, a click told her Nora had already hung up.

***

“I told you
you
are not to use that infernal machine!” Ralph thundered, his eyes bulging with anger. “You promised it was just for emergencies. Do you see an emergency? I do not see one. There is not an emergency, damn it. Jesus Christ almighty, Nora, the minute my back is turned…”

“No!” Nora shouted, letting go; it felt wonderful. “It was not an emergency. But it’s high time we were able to be in touch with the outside world.”

“Ha! What outside world? We don’t need an outside world. Who were you talking to? You talked to someone else before you talked to whoever that was. Who was it?”

You don’t have to tell him, Nora’s mind said to her. You really don’t.

But she did.

“I called Mrs. Brice earlier,” she explained, reluctantly trying to calm her temper. “I called her because she’s having company and it’ll be difficult for her to take me shopping this week.”

“Don’t go shopping then. We spend far too much on food as it is. We can have soup. Some of that meat you bought so extravagantly. There’s lots of things in the garden now; we can have them. We don’t need to have such big meals. My stomach can’t take them anyway.”

“Then don’t eat so much!” Nora shouted. But when her father flinched, she regretted it and put her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I yelled. But it’s all arranged now. That nice Liz Hardy is going to take me shopping, and Patty Monahan will come as usual and sit with you and Mama. See how helpful the phone is? If it hadn’t been for the phone, I couldn’t have arranged any of that.”

But he was staring at her, rigid, reproachful. “Liz Hardy,” he said, his voice taut with what Nora could only diagnose as loathing. “That woman. I don’t want you seeing her, letting her come here. It’s her doing we got that phone in the first place.”

“No, it’s not, Father,” Nora said in what she hoped was a soothing tone of voice. “It’s not. It was the
Hastingses
’ idea. Remember? I told you.”

“Interfering busybodies! You can’t trust anyone,” he said dramatically, turning away, “but your mother and your wife.”

“Not even your daughter who takes care of you?”

“No. Not even my daughter who takes care of me.”

“That makes me very sad,” Nora said. “Father, listen.” She put a hand on his walker, then on his hand, but he remained rigid. “Father, I’m forty years old. I’m a grown-up. I have very little life of my own. I don’t ask for much, really I don’t. But once in a while I’d like to be with"—she smiled slightly—"with someone my own age.”

“There’s church,” he said gruffly. “There must be young people at church.”

“Yes, there are,” she answered. “But Mrs. Brice whisks me off to buy the paper right after the service, and then brings me home, and I can’t go to any other church events because I can’t get to them. If I could drive…”

“Oh, no,” he bellowed, furious again. “There you go! You are not going to drive. That’s not for women; women can’t drive anyway. It’s too dangerous, honey,” he whined. “What if you had an accident? What would I do then? I can’t take care of your mother. I’m too sick. I need you, Nora. I need my little girl.”

Sighing, Nora patted his hand and led him back to his room.

After talking with Nora, Liz set off whistling down the lake path, carrying a saw and clippers and wearing her oldest jeans and a faded t-shirt with “HOLDEN ACADEMY” emblazoned across the front. For two hours, she worked steadily, chopping and sawing, disregarding both the scratches on her arms and hands and the nervous thoughts about Friday’s lunch that crowded into her mind whenever she let down her guard.

By 10:30 the sun was already hot, her shirt was clinging to her sweaty back, and she was cursing herself for not having brought water. Then, just as she lifted the shirt’s hem to wipe the sweat out of her eyes, the board she was standing on vibrated and Roy appeared at its other end, wearing a wide-brimmed cloth hat and khaki shorts, and carrying a red-and-white cooler with “PLAYMATE” printed on its side. “Hey, there,” he called. “Thought I might find you here.”