The Third Angel (2 page)

“Of course they liked you,” Allie said. “Don't be so insecure.”

No one else would have guessed Maddy was insecure. But Allie knew she had been a thumb sucker, a blanket holder, a little girl who had been frightened of spiders, afraid of the dark, terrified of mice. Allie would often have to crawl into bed beside Maddy and tell her a story before she could fall asleep. It was their story, the one about the heron, the one they had shared before Allie claimed it for herself and put it into a book.

“Paul will probably hate me, too.”

“You always expect the worst. Let's try to be positive. Let's expect the best.”

By now Maddy knew the entire story of Allie and Paul's meeting. They'd come across each other purely by chance at Kensington Palace; that was why the wedding reception was to be held on the palace grounds at the Orangery, which had once been Queen Anne's greenhouse. Both Allie and Paul had gone there to leave flowers in Princess Diana's memory the day after the accident in Paris. Allie had brought along a bouquet of white roses. She had chosen each individual rose at her local greengrocer's, making certain there were no blemishes, no browning petals.

The whole Diana affair had made her feel so hopeless; it was as though love was impossible in such a bleak, cruel world. But then she had taken the white roses to Kensington Palace, where the bouquets reached out for hundreds of yards, and there was Paul, who had decided to come at the very last moment. His visit hadn't been planned; in fact, he'd torn up some flowers from his neighbor's garden, red things he didn't even know the name of, to lay at the palace gates, mostly because his mother was such a fan of Diana's. Paul's mum, who lived in a village near Reading, had been utterly broken up by the news and Paul thought she'd be pleased to know that he had stopped to pay his respects on her behalf.

Allie had confided to her sister that she'd been crying when she first saw Paul; she'd literally felt dizzy when she looked at him. He'd come over to ask if she was all right; she'd shaken her head no, then had been unable to speak. They went out for coffee, and that was that. It was unbelievably romantic. Love strikes when you least expect it. That's what Allie had told her. It struck and it went right through you, as invisible as ether.

When Maddy first heard the story, she'd wanted to shout, What on earth is romantic about doomed love? But she'd said nothing. Only that Diana had been a fool not to know whom she was marrying in the first place. Maddy had seen an interview in which Prince Charles had been asked if he was in love. “Whatever love is,” he had said with Diana sitting right next to him. She should have gotten up and walked away then.

Maddy and Allie took a detour on the way back from their lunch with the bridesmaids so they could stop at Harvey Nichols to try on shoes. They were both shoe fanatics. They still had that in common. All through high school they had shared shoes and clothes. Everyone thought they both had fabulous wardrobes, when in fact they'd had less than most of their friends. Maddy tried on a pair of suede boots that closed with silver buttons. They were gorgeous. She was considering spending the 300. When she wanted something, she wanted it desperately. She knew that if she didn't get the boots they would nag at her and she'd regret it, so she might as well do the rash thing and buy them.

Maddy was most certainly not jealous because she was only the bridesmaid, not the bride. Not at this wedding. The off-white silk suit Allie had chosen for herself was a little sad. It was her usual practical style, something she could wear again and again, not an outfit anyone would dream of for her wedding. Maddy herself would have gone for organza and satin, some ravishing design a woman could wear only once in her life. As Allie was warning her that suede was easily ruined in the rain, Maddy paid for, then claimed, the lovely, expensive, impractical boots.

•                  •

T
HEIR MOTHER USED
to sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” when they took a dinghy out along the cloudy Connecticut shore on those rare days when she felt well enough. That was where the heron lived, out beyond the flat water. Lucy Heller was too weak to use the oars; that was up to the girls. Lucy had been in treatment for cancer from the time Maddy and Allie were ten and eleven until they were in high school, the period when their father was gone. Lucy grew stronger as time went on, a survivor who never had another relapse, but back then the most she could manage was to carry her knitting bag. Lucy's mother's life had been claimed by cancer and although Lucy tried to keep her fears to herself, her children sensed them anyway. They came to believe she was doomed.

The girls hatched a plan should one of those boating outings ever turn dire. If the dinghy rocked over, if a sudden storm arose, they would save each other first. Even if they were warring and had had a terrible fight that very day, if Maddy had swiped a book or a bracelet, or if Allie had cleaned their room and tossed out Maddy's collection of seashells, they would still rescue each other. They would hold hands and help each other stay afloat. They always made sure to wear life jackets, so they would be ready. They checked the newspaper for weather reports.

A curse had been placed upon their mother. That was why she was so distant and sad. That was why her husband had left her during her treatment. No one rational would have done that. No one whose wife hadn't been under a spell. The girls decided that they were the only ones who could break the curse. There was only one way to combat an evil spell: blood for blood, skin for skin, ashes for ashes. They would call to the heron who was bound to watch over them. They'd make a sacrifice to his spirit. The sisters crept out to the backyard after bedtime. It was very dark, and Maddy tripped over a stone. Allie had to grab on to her to keep her from falling. They were in their nightgowns. No one had done the wash for two weeks and the hems of their nightgowns were dirty. Their feet were bare. Things in the house were falling apart. There was no food in the refrigerator and they had run out of clean clothes. No one took out the garbage and moths flitted around the boxes of pasta and rice in the cabinets. That was the way illness appeared in a house, in the corners, in between floorboards, on the hooks in the closet, along with the sweaters and coats.

Maddy hung back as they approached the end of the lawn. Curses, after all, were powerful things. It was impossible to see beyond the hedge. There seemed to be no one else alive in the world. If they went forward, would the earth still be there? If the heron came when they called to him, what would they do next? Maddy didn't even like birds. A blue heron was almost as big as she was; she knew that from reading the Audubon guide. They were territorial and would fight any interlopers.

“Come on,” Allie said. “There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Allie had gotten the shovel from the garage. When she started digging, the earth puddled with water. Maddy stood close to her sister. Allie smelled like soap and sweat and mud. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing.

“You're getting in the way,” Allie said. “I can do this myself.”

When the shoveling was done, Maddy handed Allie the razor they'd stolen from the bathroom.

“It won't hurt a bit,” Allie promised. “He'll come to us then. He'll protect us.”

She was always saying things wouldn't hurt in order to get Maddy to do what she didn't want to do. Sometimes it was true and sometimes it wasn't.

“The best thing to do when something hurts is to say one word over and over in your head,” Allie whispered. “Something comforting.” Their father was gone. Their mother might soon be in the hospital or locked into a high tower by mysterious forces or dead. The word Maddy chose to say was
rice pudding.
Technically that was two words, but it was her favorite dessert, and it always brought her comfort. Allie was quick when she dragged the razor across Maddy's hand. She'd been right about the pain. It didn't so much hurt as it burned.

“Okay,” Allie said. “Good job.” Once she was done with Maddy, she cut herself. One deep gash across her palm. She didn't even wince. “Now we hold our hands over the dirt.”

They let their blood trickle onto the earth, then Allie shoveled the dirt back over the place where their blood had fallen. Their nightgowns were filthy by now, not that they cared. Their hair was tangled down their backs. They climbed up into the sycamore, the biggest tree for miles around.

“Something should happen,” Allie said. But nothing did. They waited and waited, but not a thing changed. Allie was hugely disappointed. She was the protector, the one who made all the decisions, the dependable one. She never cried, but now it seemed she might. “He's never coming back,” she said. “He can't save her.”

For Maddy, the thought of Allie crying was the most terrifying part of the night. “Just because we can't see him doesn't mean he's not there.”

Allie looked at her sister, surprised. Frankly, Maddy had surprised herself.

“It's dark out there,” Maddy went on to explain. “And the human eye is limited.” Her science class had been studying the human body, and they had just learned about the eye. The sisters looked out over the marsh. They couldn't tell where the land stopped and where the water began. The silvery reeds looked black as coal. Maddy whispered, and for once she sounded sure of herself. “I'll bet he's there right now, only he can't reveal himself. We have to just trust that he's there.”

The girls' mother seemed to feel better the next day. She sat in a lawn chair in the pale sunshine with her knitting beside her. At noon she went into the kitchen and fixed Allie and Maddy their lunch. They heard her laugh later in the day. The sisters had made something happen through blood and faith. They never spoke of that night again. It seemed like a dark secret. Families such as theirs didn't believe in such nonsense. They didn't sneak out in the middle of the night and cut themselves with razor blades. Still, Maddy couldn't help but wonder if the curse hadn't somehow been shifted onto her when she lied to her sister. She continued to cut herself. She chose places no one would notice: the back of her knees, the soles of her feet, her inner arm. Her sister was right. After a while, it no longer hurt.

O
N MADDY'S SECOND
night in London, Allie cooked an Indian curry that caused the entire flat to smell like cumin. It made sense that Allie would have learned to be a great cook. She practiced until she was perfect. She didn't give up the way Maddy did when it came to her personal life. Maddy stayed out of the kitchen. She didn't even ask if she could set the table. Surely it would never be good enough.

Paul came over at seven. Maddy had curled up on the couch, drinking a glass of wine, painting her toenails, ready to be unimpressed. Allie's friends and beaus never interested her. They were studious bookworms, not Maddy's type. Maddy was more concerned with her toenails; she had chosen a silvery color of polish that looked like gunmetal. She hated London. The shops were expensive and everyone spoke down to her, even the yoga instructor. She wished she could sneak away. She'd prefer to be in Paris by herself. She'd never even been there. She'd stay at a room at the Ritz that had green silk wallpaper and locks on all the doors. She could walk through the Tuileries, have coffee in a place where no one spoke her language. This whole wedding preparation was a joke. Maddy had heard that half of all marriages ended in divorce. It might even be 75 percent. Why would anyone take on odds like that?

Allie went to open the door when the bell rang. Maddy heard the murmur of voices. Frankly, she didn't much care what they said. Other than discussing wedding details, Allie hadn't talked about Paul. She wasn't the sort to confide in her sister. All Maddy knew was the same old story of their first meeting: Kensington Palace. Diana. White roses. He was probably the most boring man in the world. Now, at the door, Allie said something about Paul not being late for once, and he said that he was always on time, she was always early. They sounded tired and annoyed, not the lovebirds Maddy had expected.

“Here's my little sister,” Allie said as she brought Paul inside.

Maddy looked up. Allie had been right about one thing—Paul was ridiculously handsome. He was tall, in his early thirties, but boyish, the sort of man who would probably always seem young. He had very short blond hair, his head was nearly shaved, and a sort of effortlessness about him that seemed both dangerous and charming. Paul came over, leaned down, and kissed Maddy on either cheek. She could tell he'd already had a drink. Strike one. She didn't trust people who drank alone, even though she often went to bars by herself after work, just to relax and calm down from her day.

“Welcome to the family,” Paul said.

“Shouldn't I be saying that to you?” Maddy also didn't trust good-looking men. She'd been through quite a few of her own.

“Either way. We're family. Now that's a bad color for you,” he said of her nail polish. “You look like an android. You're far too pretty for that.”

“Don't listen to him,” Allie said as she dragged Paul into the kitchen to taste the curry. It was shrimp with coconut milk. When they'd gone, Maddy looked down at her toes. Paul happened to be right. Anyone would think she was made of titanium or steel. They would guess she had no feelings at all.

Dinner was fine. The curry was excellent, not too spicy. Allie was flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Maddy was surprised to see her sister have several whisky and sodas. Allie wasn't much of a drinker and she certainly wasn't a cheerful drunk. With every whisky she grew more silent and moody. Forget running off to Paris. Maddy wished she was back in her apartment in New York, eating a yogurt out of a container for her supper, joyfully and blessedly alone.

“So what do you do?” Paul asked.

“Not this again,” Maddy said. “Is this all people talk about in this country?”

“I told you,” Allie reminded Paul. “Maddy is an attorney, an important one. She works for an investment firm in Manhattan. She specializes in real estate.”