Of Bees and Mist (15 page)

“Hand me that bowl, please,” said the old woman weakly.

“Why did you let her get away with this, Patina?”

“The white bowl. Hand it to me, please.”

“You owned this house. And the shop. She’s got no right to treat you like this.”

“The white bowl. Please.”

Meridia handed her the bowl. Patina, now trembling all over, ladled soup into it, splashed by the tears she was powerless to hold back.

“Take this to her.” Patina placed the bowl on a tray and lifted the tray toward Meridia. “There’s no need to apologize. She’ll understand.”

Meridia was more shocked by Patina’s insistence than by her suggestion. “I won’t do it! I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Please. Take this upstairs.”

“I won’t submit to her, Patina. My mother did not raise me to be a slave!”

Patina’s trembling intensified to such a level that Meridia had to relieve her of the tray. At this point, a warm and carefree laughter erupted from the doorway.

“Did not raise you to be a slave! Ha-ha! What a flair you have for language, Meridia. Did you learn this from your mother? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s one remarkable woman.”

Blood drained from Meridia’s face. Turning slowly, she gripped the tray with all her nerves so they would not betray her. Eva stood in the doorway, calm and apathetic as though she were merely looking in on her way to the market. At the first glimpse of her mocking smile, a hard thing knotted up inside Meridia—the closest she had ever felt to hatred. Somehow, gathering the pride and dignity she had inherited from Ravenna, she caught Eva’s stare and flung it back across the room.

“My mother
is
a remarkable woman.”

Eva’s laugh had the soothing touch of springtime. It was when she spoke that she took on the menace of winter.

“Shall I tell you about your precious mother? You accused me of
maiming dear Patina. Have you ever accused your mother of maiming your father? You see, I did my homework before I let my son marry you. A skilled fortune-teller, blessed with access to the right spirits, can tell you the past as well as the future.”

She paused to regard Meridia’s clenched face with imperturbable amusement. The fearsome blade that was her mouth gleamed and sharpened by the second.

“Would you like to hear what the spirits told me? Your mother, they said, lost all interest in your father three days after you were born. Apparently, she became so disillusioned by the thing she ejected out of her womb—you—that the thought of being touched by her own husband repulsed her to the core. One day, when your father demanded pleasure, she chased him from her bed like a flea and threatened to shear off his manhood if he so much as made another move. To retaliate, your father did what any degenerate would—found a perch between another woman’s legs. Your mother discovered this soon enough. One night—dark and stormy it must have been—she lost her mind and attacked him while he slept. If you think this is sordid melodrama, guess what her weapon of choice was. An ax! Ha-ha! She must have read one too many potboilers and fancied herself a jilted, ax-wielding lover. Your father awoke in time to save his life, obviously, but not his shoulder. The blade hacked through his bones and left him with a stoop. Tell me, dear, do you find this as amusing as I do?”

Meridia did not hear the last words, for everything was rushing at her all at once. The kitchen was spinning, the floor bobbing, the ceiling plunging, and in the midst of the commotion she saw a blinding flash leap up from the haze of nightmares. Lit by the moon, traveling at great speed in the dark of night, the ax swung to its lethal destination. Meridia heard the crash and the familiar tumble, followed by the terrible scream that could have come from no other throat but Gabriel’s. Spinning, spinning, the haze dissolved and her eyes flew from Patina hunched by the sink to Eva laughing in the doorway. Eva. Soaking up every twitch of pain that coursed through Meridia’s face.

Collecting herself, Meridia strode toward the door. Eva met her halfway. Before either one knew it, they were glaring at each other with only the length of a grown man between them. Meridia felt no fear as she lifted the tray and smashed it to the floor. The porcelain bowl jumped, made an arc toward Eva, and shattered to bits. Eva shrieked and drew back, but not before the red bean soup splattered her white dressing robe. For an instant there was only silence. Then Eva’s battle cry set everything into motion.

“How dare you!”

Patina rushed to help, but Eva shoved her to the floor. Meridia stood still with eyes dark as night.

“You insolent girl! I knew you were trouble from the day I met you!”

“Yet the size of my dowry was enough to silence you. Isn’t that why you let Daniel marry me? Well, you can fool
him
but you can’t fool
me.
Don’t think for a second you can do with the money as you wish.”

“How dare you accuse me of stealing from my own son! Daniel knows very well he can take back the money anytime he wants.”

“Then give it to him this minute.”

“As soon as I hear him ask.”

“He’ll ask for it, all right.”

“No, he won’t.”

“I’ll make him ask!”

“He won’t say a word.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because he trusts me more than he does you.”

The words hit Meridia harder than a blow. Before she could retort, Patina began wailing with such anguish that the two women jerked apart.

“Leave her alone!” cried Eva, seeing Meridia hasten toward Patina. “That old crow doesn’t need you to take care of her.”

“Neither does she need you in her life,” returned Meridia. “Heaven knows why she loves you when you don’t deserve an ounce of her goodness.”

“Keep talking. Before the day is over you’ll be eating your own words.”

“Very well. I’ll let you know how they taste.”

Enraged, Eva stormed out of the kitchen. Gently, Meridia lifted Patina from the floor. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t let her hurt you anymore.”

It was after they were both standing that Meridia realized her own legs were bleeding. She lifted her skirt and found pieces of porcelain stuck to her flesh.

SHE HAD NO TIME
to examine her feelings or ponder the consequences of her actions. When she returned to her room, Daniel was already dressed in his work suit.

“Mama wants me to go to the shop,” he explained.

“Today’s Sunday.”

“Papa has a meeting scheduled but he’s unwell. I’ll be home at two.”

“I need to speak to you, Daniel. It’s urgent.”

“Can it wait, dearest? The partners don’t like to be kept waiting.”

She detected no difference in his manner, but neither did he notice the cuts on her legs. As he kissed her good-bye, a wave of worry nearly drowned her on the spot. While Meridia was consoling Patina, Eva might have come up with a move that could seal her doom.

Master and mistress did not come down at breakfast or lunchtime. When Gabilan knocked on their door, Eva sent her away with a sharp word. All morning long, Meridia kept her ears attuned to the noises upstairs, but heard nothing. Malin’s cunning glance was her sole indication that the bees were in full session, and Elias, in all likelihood, had been placed in the executioner’s box without the possibility of escape.

After lunch, Meridia retired to her room. Too anxious to do anything, she sat on the bed and prepared herself for the worst. Ten
minutes later, Eva’s door slammed open, angry steps slapped down the stairs, and Meridia’s four walls at once shook from the tremor. She got up without hurrying and bolted both the hallway and garden doors. The furious sound of Elias’s breathing reached her before his fist met the door.

“Open up!”

Meridia sat back down on the bed with her hands calmly knotted in her lap.

“Open the door, goddamn you!”

A whisper in the hallway. Footsteps around the room. And then Eva’s loud curse when she found the garden door was also locked. Now both doors were being pummeled mercilessly, the bolts and hinges straining to break. And yet, though it sounded as if a hundred rifles were going off at once, Meridia did not stir from her seat.

“Come out and show your face, you coward!” yelled Elias from the hallway.

“Who do you think you are to insult us like this?” cried Eva from the garden door.

This went on for some time until Eva, thwarted, rejoined Elias in the hallway. The master of the house proceeded to throw his shoulder against the door and kick it. Both were screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

“You rotten ingrate!”

“Just wait until I get my hands on you!”

An eternity seemed to have passed before Daniel’s voice rose in the hallway.

“What’s going on, Papa?”

“Your wife insulted your mother! Calling her things you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She called her a liar and a cheat—”

“A thieving, two-faced snake,” clarified Eva.

“—and accused her of abusing Patina! Where would that old woman be without your mother’s generosity? Yet your coward of a wife called her vile and heartless.”

“And to spite me further—”

“She threw a whole steaming pot of soup at your mother! Look at her legs all scalded and her dress bloody like she’s been butchered!”

“I don’t believe it,” gasped Daniel.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Eva stifled an indignant sob. “Has she turned you against me? My own son, my flesh and blood?”

“It’s obvious her insane mother and depraved father never taught her how to respect her elders,” said Elias. “It’s time she learns we’re not barbarians in this house!”

The bedroom door flew open, startling Eva and Elias into silence. Bathed in a flame of fury, eyes wild with animal courage, Meridia was both fearsome and glorious to behold.

“Leave my parents out of this. You’re not good enough to wash their socks.”

“Listen to her talk, more arrogant than a queen,” said Eva through her tears.

Elias lunged forward. “You owe my wife an apology.”

“I owe her nothing.”

“Then how do you explain this?”

Eva, crying and wincing, still had on her white dressing robe, now splotched in big red stains that did not previously exist. Her feet displayed wounds the soup could not possibly have caused.

“I take no responsibility for her make-believe,” said Meridia.

Daniel took her elbow. “Dearest, did you say those things to Mama?”

“She certainly did. Patina saw everything. Patina!”

Like a terrified child, Patina hobbled in from the kitchen. Instantly Eva and Elias were upon her, asking so many questions with such rapidity that the old woman could only stare from one to the other in misery.

“Did she or did she not throw the soup at me?”

“Speak up! Why are you standing there shaking like an idiot?”

Meridia would not tolerate this. “I threw the soup. And I don’t regret it one bit.”

“She admits it!” exclaimed Elias triumphantly. “You see what kind of demon you’ve married, son?”

Meridia gave her father-in-law a look so cutting that any other man would have smarted from the slice. But Elias—she saw right away—was not himself. Bloodshot and haggard, he looked as though he had not slept in days, and there was a ruthlessness to his movement that told her he was demented enough to do anything. Only once had Meridia seen that look, the night Eva got him into a rage over the neighbor’s mastiff. All of a sudden it hit her with a bolt of panic. Eva’s bees had put in more than one morning’s work on Elias. In the flush of her rebellion, Meridia had misunderstood one thing: the dying stench of the roses was not meant to afflict her sleep, but to mask the bees’ insidious drone. For five nights, while her eyes watered and her throat rasped, the abominable insects had been laboring overtime—accusing, distorting, toting up every act of disobedience. She could only imagine the damage they were causing Elias.

“Is it true, Meridia?” asked Daniel. “Why did you do it?”

She had avoided his eyes until then. What she saw now confirmed what her heart already knew. He looked baffled and wounded, yet though her whole being ached with tenderness for him, she recognized him for the boy he still was.

“What does it matter?” she said. “You won’t take my word over theirs.”

“Dearest! What are you saying?”

“Don’t listen to her, son,” said Eva. “Can’t you see how she’s toying with you?”

“If she doesn’t apologize, Daniel, there’s no room for her in this house.”

“What do you—but that’s absurd, Papa!”

“Put her in her place, Daniel. Who will defend your mother if you won’t?”

Eva backed this with a wracking sob.

“We need to calm down, all of us,” said Daniel. “I’ll take Meridia out for a walk. When we get back, we’ll discuss this rationally.”

Elias looked as if he was ready to explode. “Has she turned you into a woman? Robbed you of manhood
and
dignity? Tell your wife she’s got two words to choose from. Sorry or good-bye. Which will it be?”

Daniel was speechless. It was Meridia who made the decision for him.

“I’ll leave,” she said. “There’s room for me in my father’s house.”

For a few seconds no one said anything, realizing the challenge had been thrown and taken too far. And then Eva looked at Elias until he roared in anger.

“Then leave at once! I won’t tolerate your impudence a moment longer. And don’t you dare take anything that doesn’t belong to you!”

Not deigning to reply, Meridia went into her room for the most precious thing she owned. At the bottom of the sandalwood trunk, hidden beneath layers of her bridal dress, was the gold jewelry set Gabriel had given as part of her dowry, the same one Eva had decided she could keep. She had no time for anything else. Lashed by the voices behind, Meridia took the velvet box and returned to the hallway.

Daniel moved toward her, but Elias pushed him back.

“Stay where you are,” he warned.

“Papa! You can’t do this to us.”

“Don’t call me Papa if you’re stupid enough to defend that varmint. In two months’ time, I’ll marry you to a wife who knows how to respect you.”