Of Bees and Mist (31 page)

The girl said, “Do you remember our stories? Those gentle kings who woo their sweethearts with songs and gallantry? Ahab is not like them. He woos me by kissing me until I grow faint and beg for breath. Sometimes he is so strong and so full of desire I fear he might break me. But always I cry for more, because when he holds me and takes me I feel fire, and while that fire burns everything else stops to matter. I’ve spent my whole life fettered to Mama’s chains, serving her whims and enduring her hostility. But then Ahab came along and burned those chains right off. Look at me! All these dresses and flowers! They’re silly and immaterial, I know, but when did anyone ever think to put my happiness first? So I beg of you, if you come to tell me things I’d rather not hear, keep them to yourself. I can’t go back to Mama’s chains now that Ahab has set me free.”

Her voice had sunk and become plaintive, yet her lavender eyes were fiercely alive. In them there was no confusion. The girl had decided to marry without love.

Meridia slowly took back her hand. “So you know? You’ve heard?”

Permony nodded. “I don’t believe a word of it. Please give me your blessing. That’s all I ask from you.”

“I don’t want you to be deceived. I’ll never forgive myself if I fail to help you.”

“And for that I’m grateful—you can’t know how much—but my mind’s made up. I’m going to marry Ahab by year’s end.”

Permony untangled a sealskin coat from the bed and put it on. She smiled, tiptoed to the mirror, and twirled. Childish as it was, it was this gesture that convinced Meridia she was no longer speaking to a girl, but a woman who knew her business exactly.

“Is there nothing I can say? Nothing to change your mind?”

Permony shook her head. “I need only your blessing.”

Meridia looked at her for a long time before nodding. Permony screamed, showered her with kisses. It was then that the certainty sank in. Somehow, despite her best intention to honor it, Meridia knew she had broken a promise she could not remember making.

B
y February, the odor of the house had become intolerable. In the beginning it had the whiff of something sulfurous, coming upon Meridia one morning as she was waking. By afternoon, the odor in the bedroom had grown so strong she had to throw the windows open. She ordered the maid to beat the rugs and wash the curtains, scrub the floor and boil the sheets, but instead of diffusing the stench, the effort merely added a whiff of offal and rotting fish. In three days, the stink permeated the entire house. Desperate for fresh air, the maid indulged in excessive pruning in the garden. Noah walked around with a hand clamped over his nose. Daniel went out and stayed out as soon as the shop was closed. Customers sprinted to the door without waiting for their purchases to be wrapped.

Only Ravenna’s room was exempt, and here, Meridia took refuge with increasing frequency. In her absorption, she did not notice that the stench only grew fouler the longer she stayed in that room. Yet even this sanctuary came to an end the morning she awoke and detected the odor in her own skin. She jumped from the bed, dashed into the bathroom, undressed, scrubbed her body with pumice, but the stench remained. As the pale light of day penetrated the wooden
slats of the window, she put back her nightgown and returned to bed and smelled the same odor emanating from Daniel’s body. It hit her then that she had been sleeping for an eternity with her face confronting the great wall of his back. The fence, erected by the bees, had turned into a fortress. A few times in the last six months, propelled by sheer urgency, he had tossed a rope down the wall to admit her, but those moments of reunion had been as unmindful as they had been quick. In the cold morning light, she suddenly felt that if she could burrow her face in his skin, or run her lips across the span of his chest, then the stench would disappear. The arc of his naked back was long and graceful, the fuzz on his nape a tender dare. Breathless from the need, she pressed her breasts against his spine and aimed a hand at his shoulder. He shrugged them off—breasts and hand—as if they were clammy or dirty and moved away.

A FEW DAYS LATER,
the wind changed direction and ushered in the winter cold. The townspeople hardly noticed, however, so enthralled were they by the sight of a glorious Eva strolling through the market square in a new mink coat. It was the first time in years that they saw her wear her triumph so conspicuously. Even back in December, the month of Permony’s wedding, they had heard little from her. Not once did she brag about the couple, the fortune-teller’s predictions, the lavish party at the Majestic Hotel, or the number of guests invited. Her unprecedented discretion not only boggled them but robbed them of the delicious pleasure of talking about her. And so when they saw her beam at them in her resplendent new coat on that wintry February morning, they were only too glad to welcome her return.

“I’m the most blessed mother on earth,” she crowed to the fruit-sellers. “My son has made a name for himself, my daughters are married well, and the three of them are loving and generous children. My grandson, Noah, is handsome and wonderful; in fact, he adores me so much he always asks for me the instant he wakes up.
He’s my only grandchild so far, but not for long! Look at this coat. My son-in-law Ahab gave it to me just this morning. Isn’t it absolutely ravishing?”

Unanimous, the town concluded that Permony was with child.

When Eva appeared on Magnolia Avenue with the news, Daniel introduced her to everyone in the shop as “my dear, dear mother.” Shooting Meridia a vindicated look, he told a misty-eyed Eva to select any piece of jewelry she wanted from the shop. For the rest of the afternoon, he circulated the news to all their neighbors. His smile was so bright and wide Noah could not help teasing him, “Watch out, Papa! Your teeth look ready to fall out.”

At dinner he spoke his first words of the day to Meridia. “You could have at least cracked a smile. The way you act, people might think you don’t care for Permony at all. Don’t you think everything turned out nicely for her after all?”

Meridia refrained from replying. Thus far, her concerns regarding Ahab had proven unfounded, since the man had done nothing but worship Permony. Whenever she ran into them, they were one creature fused at the hip and joined at the head. Leah said that Ahab bought Permony a dozen lilies a day. Rebecca claimed that the seamstress they worked for had her hands tied with Ahab’s orders until next year. Recently, Permony herself declared that she could not imagine leading a fuller or happier life. More astonishing still, Eva’s bees had not created a stir for some time. Nevertheless, Meridia’s doubts persisted; the more she strained to evict them, the deeper they lodged in the center of her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Ravenna’s condition continued to worsen. Now nearly blind, she had become as frail as a moth’s wing, her proud back bent and her breathing fitful. If not moved, she would sit all day in her room like a statue. If not fed, she would build a maze out of her food without eating it. When she heard someone talking, she would smile placidly at the voice without recognizing the speaker. It caused Meridia no end of heartache that Ravenna had not spoken a word to her since Gabriel died.

The morning after Eva’s announcement, Meridia took her mother to view the blossoms at Cinema Garden. She led her gently like a child, sat her down on a warm bench in front of the fountain of the swans, and then tempted her with flowers from the trees. The air was crisp and smoky, the Garden empty but for a few mothers and their children. Meridia was arranging the blossoms in Ravenna’s lap when a woman in a heavy robe stumbled from the direction of the cemetery.

“Malin!” Meridia started from the bench. “Are you all right?”

The girl jerked to a stop. A wilting clump of butterfly weed dropped from her hand. From her swollen eyes Meridia gathered she had met the dawn weeping.

“Permony’s having a baby?” she whispered. “Permony—a baby?”

It was anguish, not envy, that lay smoldering beneath the question. Meridia took both of Malin’s hands and squeezed them.

“You’ll have children of your own one day,” she said. “In a year’s time you could have a little boy or girl to keep you up at night.”

Malin shook her head and cried. “There will never be one for me.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know what heaven has in store for you.”

Malin shook her head harder. “You don’t understand. We have tried and failed, so many times.
I
have failed, that is. We’ve seen doctors everywhere, but no matter what they tell me to do, I can’t hold the baby inside. Jonathan’s given up and hasn’t come near me in months. He says it’s killing him to have his hope dashed every time he gets it up. He won’t admit it, but I know he thinks it’s my fault. I’m not a woman, you see! How can I be one when I can’t bear him children?”

Meridia squeezed her hands harder. “If you’re not a woman, then what does that make me?”

Malin stopped sobbing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t.” Meridia released the girl’s hands. A sound she did not like was pulsing through the air, barreling its way into
her ear with the beastly tenacity of the bees. Meridia glanced at her mother: Ravenna was busy tearing the blossoms to pieces. Meridia glanced the other way and the sound hit her hard and clear. It was the other mothers. No longer watching their children but pointing and whispering.

Meridia began to walk and motioned for Malin to follow.

“Does your mother know?”

Malin’s face suddenly twisted with anger. “I wish someone would stop her! She goes around telling everyone she’ll soon be grandmother to my children. ‘Malin’s womb holds the seeds of ten thousand generations. Any day now they’ll spill out and make the world a brighter place.’ How do you reason with someone like that? Someone with such self-delusion she can fool herself into believing anything? And now she won’t shut up about Permony and she tells me how everyone is
dying
to hear the same news from me. Oh, I just feel so mad and low and useless—”

“Don’t let her do this to you.”

“She says everyone…everyone—”

Malin choked on her words. The women’s whispering was getting louder. Meridia glared at them. Their number seemed to have doubled in a matter of minutes.

“Listen to me, Malin. You’ve gone out of your way to mend things with your sister and I’m proud of you. Don’t you see what your mother is doing? She’s setting you up against Permony by making you jealous. If you let her, you’ll end up despising your sister again and giving your mother control over the both of you.”

Malin nodded without surprise. “She’s done this our whole lives. All through my childhood she told me, ‘Papa’s got no room for you now that your sister’s pushed you out of his heart.’ She always said Permony was doing this and that behind my back to steal Papa’s affection. I used to get so angry and make Permony’s life a living hell. Then Mama would be so pleased and she would kiss me and let me have everything I wanted. If only I’d wised up to her tricks sooner.”

She said this with no trace of the cruel and sullen girl who had
been a terror to her sister. In that instant Meridia realized how far they had traveled to stand this close to each other.

“You did hate me once, Malin,” she said.

The girl made no pretense at denial. “Mama used to tell me the most dreadful things about you, even before you were married. She said you bribed the spirits to capture Daniel’s attention, and once you had him under your spell, you wouldn’t stop until you took control of the house and broke up our family. At one point she filled me with so much hate I thought you were the most despicable creature who had ever lived. To this day she looks for every opportunity to do you ill. I’d be careful if I were you. You never know what someone like Mama has got cooking in her head. She’s been fuming every day since your mother moved in with you.”

Malin’s eyes filled with concern as they reached the lone figure on the bench. “How is your mother?”

It was Meridia’s turn to shake her head. “No better, no worse. I don’t know if she won’t speak because she misses my father or because she’s angry with me.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“My mother doesn’t seem to think so.”

Malin stood still and gave back her full gaze. “You’re the strongest woman I know. I want you to help me when the time comes.”

Meridia did not hesitate. “What do you want me to do?”

“I can’t say just yet. But will you give me your word?”

The two women shook hands and went their separate ways, Malin to the frozen silences of Museum Avenue, Meridia to the bench where her mother refused to recognize who she was.

“Come, Mama. It’s time to go.”

The second her hand landed on Ravenna’s shoulder, the whispering pitched to a deafening level. It was armed with fire and brimstone.

Why does Malin still speak to her? If she hadn’t shown her the dead baby, Malin wouldn’t be so haunted by it. She did it out of spite, you know, to break the girl’s womb because her own is broken. Now she’s gone
ahead and wrecked her mother, too. Do you know she let Gabriel die while he still had plenty of breath in his lungs? Oh, yes! Her mother tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. That’s what broke
her.
Look at that poor widow, sniffing flowers like an idiot and not knowing her face from her own behind. Just be thankful you don’t have a daughter like her.

Meridia shook with fury. She wheeled around and marched straight toward the women, certain that Eva—wasn’t that her new coat flashing in the sun?—was among them. “Say it to my face, you coward!” Her scream cut through the air and scattered the golden swans in the fountain. Angry tears burned and blurred. The women wobbled, the children shifted. The whispering became fainter and fainter. When she reached the place where her assailants were gathered, hot blood instantly drained from her face.

There were no mothers, no children, no Eva. It was winter and the Garden was deserted.

Her breath came unglued in her throat. Her stopped heart pounded like a storm. Where had they gone? What had she heard? Those voices had sounded so real, so near. Was it possible that she had imagined them? Finding no answer in the frigid air, Meridia slowly walked back to her mother.

A FEW DAYS LATER,
Eva announced that the shop on Lotus Blossom Lane would be closed for remodeling. The whole place would be gutted, she said, additional windows put in, along with new carpeting, curtains, and handsome cases made from teak. She enlisted Daniel to supervise the work, and he agreed with a hearty enthusiasm, calling it “Mama’s big shot.” As the weeks passed, he began spending all his spare time on Lotus Blossom Lane, skipping meals and working late even on weekends. Unwilling to risk a further quarrel, Meridia showed no opposition, but she noticed that the stink suffocating the house would become stronger the instant he stepped out of the door. It was understood that Ahab had supplied the money for the remodeling.

The shop reopened in the spring on an auspicious day chosen by the fortune-teller. Dressed in burgundy silk and starred with diamonds, Eva was at her warmest and most hospitable. She entertained the guests with endless stories, skillfully urging them to shop as she fed them champagne and crab cakes. A very pregnant Permony glowed at her right, while at her left, Ahab had never looked more distinguished. Everybody remarked on how loving Eva was with her family—she massaged Permony’s swollen fingers, called Daniel “the dearest son a mother could have,” and made sure Noah had plenty to eat. Her dazzle was such that it outshone even the splendid new inventory, so fiercely blinding no one noticed that neither Malin nor Jonathan was present.

Meridia paid Eva little attention, for a young and pretty assistant who was to replace Permony in the shop had caught her eye. The girl had pure alabaster skin, a laughter of tinkling silver bells, and mesmerizing eyes whose color alternated between green and gray. Ahab was clearly enthralled—he kept glancing at the girl when he thought no one was looking. His behavior brought Meridia’s suspicions to the forefront—it was the same appraising stare he had given Permony at Malin’s wedding.