Wildwood (25 page)
Authors: Drusilla Campbell
“If you can’t be a mother to your own son, what makes you think—”
“I’m a damned good mother and you know it.”
“Not to Eddie you’re not. Not anymore. You neglect him, you reject him, you make him ashamed of growing up.”
“You son of a bitch.”
She threw the hairbrush across the room, missing him by an arm’s length. It hit her bedside table, shattering a little crystal water jug and glass she kept there. With a cry she dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands.
For a moment Dan watched her cry, then went to his closet and took out his shorts and athletic shoes and socks. “I’m going for a run.” He stood at the bedroom door. “I don’t want to hurt you, Hannah. I never want to hurt you. Only I’ve got to be honest, the way you are right now, I just can’t stand to be around you. There’s a limit to what I can take, Hannah. The way you are now, it’s breaking my heart.”
Monday
B
y the light Liz judged it was early, probably before six. Gerard would have eaten breakfast hours ago and depending on his schedule he might be in the Jeep heading up country or under the guest house laying out rat traps or holed up in their suite with a stack of professional reading. He might be down at the quay griping to Petula about tourists.
y the light Liz judged it was early, probably before six. Gerard would have eaten breakfast hours ago and depending on his schedule he might be in the Jeep heading up country or under the guest house laying out rat traps or holed up in their suite with a stack of professional reading. He might be down at the quay griping to Petula about tourists.
This time next week I’ll be home too.
It had been a mistake to come back to Rinconada. She had brought trouble with her.
The night before she had tried not to listen but the bedrooms shared a wall. She had heard something break and an occasional angry word or sentence came through.
There’s a limit to what I can take.
She wanted to forget the way Dan said it. Anger by itself would have been bad enough, but Liz had heard as well despair and exhaustion, the voice of a man ready to give up. She thought what only a few days before had been unthinkable. The trouble between Hannah and Dan might be serious. The idea of them apart tore at her heart.
There’s a limit to what I can take.
She wanted to forget the way Dan said it. Anger by itself would have been bad enough, but Liz had heard as well despair and exhaustion, the voice of a man ready to give up. She thought what only a few days before had been unthinkable. The trouble between Hannah and Dan might be serious. The idea of them apart tore at her heart.
Dan wanted Hannah to see a therapist.
And maybe that’s what Liz should have done. Instead of coming back to Rinconada and lugging trouble with her, she could have stayed in Florida, had the abortion and then gone to a professional to talk about Bluegang.
Jeanne might be right. Liz was such a narcissist she had to drag everyone in on her troubles.
She rolled over onto her stomach and punched the pillow, closed her eyes and told herself go back to sleep. She turned again and stared up at the ceiling, and then at the window, at a cobweb in the corner like a cheesecloth swag with the light behind it.
When she first went to Belize Gerard had taken her for a walk in the damp forest just as the sun rose. As light hit the treetops he tilted her chin up and she saw the canopy festooned with jeweled spider webs shimmering in the warm wet dawn. She had known then that she would stay in Belize. Divina read the cards and said she must stay, she and Gerard, they were
simpatico. Liz did not need tarot to tell her this.
They understood each other’s moods and weather and she knew a baby that demanded and deserved centrality would forever disrupt the atmosphere between them. Because Liz remembered what it had been like before Gerard, she knew that when things got rough and if they stayed rough too long, she would cut and run. If this meant she was a coward then so be it. Thank God after a long life’s struggle she wasn’t fighting who she was anymore. She could never explain this to Hannah and Jeanne. She could talk until she needed a respirator and they would cling to their memories of the girl she had been. Perhaps this might be in the nature of long friendships. Or maybe just theirs.
simpatico. Liz did not need tarot to tell her this.
They understood each other’s moods and weather and she knew a baby that demanded and deserved centrality would forever disrupt the atmosphere between them. Because Liz remembered what it had been like before Gerard, she knew that when things got rough and if they stayed rough too long, she would cut and run. If this meant she was a coward then so be it. Thank God after a long life’s struggle she wasn’t fighting who she was anymore. She could never explain this to Hannah and Jeanne. She could talk until she needed a respirator and they would cling to their memories of the girl she had been. Perhaps this might be in the nature of long friendships. Or maybe just theirs.
Hannah lay still and alert, listening to Dan’s movements around the bedroom and bathroom. A weight the size and temperature of Antarctica lay across her chest as she recalled the night before. When she thought of talking to a therapist, she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t logical and she didn’t understand it; but she couldn’t breathe and she absolutely couldn’t tell Dan because if he knew he’d say it proved his point. She heard him go downstairs and out the kitchen door without taking time for breakfast. The tires of the BMW snarled on the gravel.
The night before she had pretended to be asleep when he returned from his run. She lay without moving, listening to him shower, feeling him move about on the bed beside her, getting comfortable. He was like an old dog going round in circles to find a comfortable spot. She’d never kick a dog but she’d like to kick Dan. She’d like to beat on him until he cried mercy, raised his arms—
I surrender. You can have Liz’s baby and Angel too and what I said about Eddie—
I surrender. You can have Liz’s baby and Angel too and what I said about Eddie—
She hated him for saying that about Eddie.
What was so terrible about being unhappy? She’d been in and out of moods all her life. Being unhappy wasn’t any reason to see a shrink. People who yukked it up all the time were the ones who needed their heads examined; it wasn’t normal considering the state of the world. But it was typically male to have so little insight, to assume that because Hannah grieved for Angel and Liz’s unwanted baby, because she craved something he did not and was willing to fight for it, she must have some kind of terminal illness of the psyche. Well, she wasn’t losing her mind and if Dan didn’t know that then he needed
his
head examined.
his
head examined.
By the time Hannah got up, the children had left for school and the house was empty except for Liz, still in bed, thank God.
Once when Hannah was down with the flu, she lay in bed and watched a morning interview program about abortion. Three women faced the cameras with the moderator, an excited man in an expensive-looking suit, standing on the steps between halves of the audience. Throughout the show the audience—every one of them at least as rotund as Gail Bacci—hectored the guests and sometimes each other. One of the guests claimed to be a theologian but looked like an Ivy League coed. She said a fetus has no soul in the womb. No one asked her how she knew this, but never mind, she rattled on. She said the soul hovers near a pregnant woman until the instant of birth. She said it had to be that way otherwise there would be two souls in one body at the same time and for some reason that was impossible. After birth the soul entered the body of the newborn; connecting up and settling in took a day or two.
Hannah didn’t think much of the theologian but she liked her theory even as she laughed at it. She had looked into Eddie’s eyes when he was only a day or two old and seen someone or something very wise gazing back at her. Soon after, his eyes were only baby eyes; but she never forgot that fleeting glimpse as if for an instant she had spied upon eternity.
Hannah was not opposed to abortion on any moral grounds. An abortion might be many things—a sorrow, a waste, a great relief—but it wasn’t murder even if the theologian’s theory was only New Age blab. But a baby with Liz’s hair and dark brown eyes, the thought of that particular baby trashed . . .
Hannah considered herself a feminist and would argue for any woman’s equal rights with a man. But the Movement, as it had once been called, angered her because it demeaned what she did best. Not that people like Gloria Steinem and the other one, the homely one who wrote the book, ever meant to put motherhood down. Hannah had never believed that. But it happened anyway; and now, because she had never wanted a career away from home, Hannah had no place, no stature, not even daydreams to sustain her. From early childhood she had fantasized being a mother and last night Dan as much as said that proved she needed psychiatric help.
Hannah didn’t need a therapist, she needed babies and they needed her. She was a mother; this was her particular skill only no one wanted her to use it. Which was a big part of what was wrong with the United States of America. Motherhood was treated like a stage meant to be survived—like menopause or adolescence. A woman born to nurture and raise a big family got labeled wacko because she cared. And never let her dare admit the fun of being a mother, never let her say how she enjoyed the challenge. Especially don’t use the word
challenge.
Compared to closing a big real estate deal? Be serious, Hannah Tarwater. Get your feet on the ground. You’re going through a syndrome.
Empty nest.
As if she were a stork, a chickadee, a goddamn ostrich.
challenge.
Compared to closing a big real estate deal? Be serious, Hannah Tarwater. Get your feet on the ground. You’re going through a syndrome.
Empty nest.
As if she were a stork, a chickadee, a goddamn ostrich.
At Resurrection House she parked the Volvo and went inside, noting as she opened the door that the screen had been mended. Betts met her in the hall.
“Get a cup of coffee and come on into my office, Hannah.”
Alarms rang in Hannah’s head. In the common room she poured a coffee under the outstretched and protective gaze of the guardian angel and felt imperiled.
“Last night I got a call,” Betts said when Hannah joined her in her office. “Just move those papers off the chair.”
Hannah sat.
“From Angel’s mother. Shannon.”
Hannah sat so straight her back ached between the shoulder blades.
Shannon.
She had not imagined a name so innocent.
Shannon.
She had not imagined a name so innocent.
“She said she wanted to see her baby so I told her to come over this morning.” Betts jerked her head in the direction of the nursery. “She’s in there now.”
“How can she come back here like nothing’s happened? Where does a person get that kind of nerve?” Hannah jumped up and charged around the office. She was vaguely aware of looking overwrought but didn’t care. “You’ve read Angel’s chart. This Shannon person smoked crack right up until she went into labor. She was probably a hooker, Betts. It’s a bloody miracle Angel is even alive with all the crap she’s got in her system.”
“You know the law.” Betts took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, nodding. “I can’t break the law. I have to let her spend time with her child.”
“What if she wants to take her away?”
“If Shannon is trying to stay clean and make something of her life then she can go to court to get Angel back. That’s always our goal, to put families back together, better than they were.” Betts stood up. She looked formidable in her long black-and-white muumuu, a floral tank running right over Hannah.
“What about the child advocate?”
“What about her?”
“She wouldn’t let her go.”
“Hear me, Hannah: If Angel’s mother can show she’s ready . . .”
“Fat chance.”
“Don’t forget the name of this place. It’s not called Foster Mother House. It’s not an orphanage. It’s called Resurrection House. Resurrection means forgiveness and a second chance. If we can give a baby and her mother an opportunity to get a new start in life, then we’re doing what we aim at.”
Hannah wanted to slam her fist through the wall. She’d had about enough lectures from people who did not know the first thing about what it meant to be a mother. Or care that it was what she knew best.
“Does she have a place to live? A job?”
“She’s staying with a friend.”
“Oh, great.” Hannah went into the little bathroom off Betts’s office. She looked at herself in the mirror over the sink.
Obsolete.
Splashed water on her face and washed her hands and returned to the office. Betts had not moved, and as soon as Hannah sat down she began talking again in her kindly patient way.
Obsolete.
Splashed water on her face and washed her hands and returned to the office. Betts had not moved, and as soon as Hannah sat down she began talking again in her kindly patient way.
“I know it’s not a good situation, but this girl does seem determined to turn her life around. I’ve talked to her and—”
“What did she think of Angel?”
Betts rolled her eyes. “Her first words were, and I quote, ‘How come she’s so scrawny?’ ”
“Damn.”
“But the truth is, Angel
is
scrawny. You and I, we know what she used to look like, what a wonder her development is. She’s come a long way in ten months and that’s what we notice. But Shannon sees her the way she really is.” Betts settled back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Angel isn’t your baby, Hannah. Caring for her doesn’t give you any rights.”
is
scrawny. You and I, we know what she used to look like, what a wonder her development is. She’s come a long way in ten months and that’s what we notice. But Shannon sees her the way she really is.” Betts settled back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Angel isn’t your baby, Hannah. Caring for her doesn’t give you any rights.”
Talking about the welfare of a baby as if they were all the same and their lives could be settled by a line in a law book. Hannah refused to cry. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll learn the drill.” She stood up and walked into the common room. She pulled on her smock as Betts looked on.
“I don’t want you to minimize how you feel, Hannah. And I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you. Not just me, all of us here. You have a great deal of love and so much to give. The connection you’ve made with Angel is a wonderful thing, a blessing for both you and the child. You’ve probably saved her life. I’m only saying, you mustn’t hold too tight. Stop by the chapel and say a little prayer before you meet Shannon. It might help.”
Hannah looked down at the hand that took hers. The fingers were short and thick and practical looking, the veins stood up like a trail of molehills. In one she saw a pulse beating.
“Light a candle, Hannah.”
“For Angel.”
“No. For Hannah.”
The chapel—once a butler’s pantry—had been fitted with a pair of kneelers, an unadorned and ecumenical altar and a shelf of votive candles. Hannah didn’t go in, but as she watched the flickering candles a thought came to her. Something Liz had said during their conversation on Thursday.
The world’s not bad, it’s just more complicated than it used to be. But for Ingrid and Eddie and kids their age, it’s just the way it should be because they’ve grown up with it.
The world’s not bad, it’s just more complicated than it used to be. But for Ingrid and Eddie and kids their age, it’s just the way it should be because they’ve grown up with it.
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