Luna (26 page)

And they’re right. It is a kind of madness into which I fell. I fell inside myself. Alone, day after day, with the wind and sky, the grass and the wild things.

They’ll tell how someone came across me walking out on the prairie late at night, as they were riding home from a dance or from playing cards with the neighbours. How I frightened them, seeming to rise from the darkness up against the night sky, my hair wild, my feet and legs bare, how their horses reared or shied and wheeled. Or standing in the sun, my dress blowing around me, my arms raised to the sky, shouting something they couldn’t understand. A crazy woman, a witch, they’ll say.

Someone sleeping upstairs coughs once. She raises her eyes to the ceiling, sees only dark, bounded shadows. Sees them all lying in their beds. One of the boys, Jason. The house falls back into silence.

How it was when I was mad. How I wandered over the prairie, neglected my work, how Jasper, despairing, would send my children out to find me and bring me home again, how I could see nothing in those days but the insects scurrying over the earth, or the clouds in the sky. How they would lead me by the hand.

What a long time it was before I could see the grass as only grass again, the rocks as only rocks, the hills as hills. When at last I did return to the world as plain landscape again, I could never again see anything in the same way. I’d forgotten how everyone else sees this world. I’d forgotten what it is they think about. I’d forgotten how things seem to be to them.

Rhea yearns to feel that opening sweep through her again, that emptying of the little things, the erasing of memory, that left her with nothing but the clench and release of her heart, the hot rush of her blood. The gut knowledge that she belonged to the earth, was a part of it, an animal like the other animals. And that where she had carried her life, she had also always carried her death.

Death, too.

She moves her feet a little and they make small, sliding noises on the old carpet. Will the house seem emptier once I’m gone? Will I be missed? Oh, yes, she tells herself with certainty, because I’m a thread in the fabric of this community. They’ll feel my passing. In those moments when they look out a window of their houses, over the long, undulating prairie, some deep part of them will whisper, the woman is gone from among us, but they won’t hear the words. Only a piercing sadness, an edge of despair will overcome them, that they can’t allow themselves to feel. No, no despair in this community.

It seems to Selena that she should ask someone what freedom is, but who? Diana says that men know what freedom is, but Selena doubts this. She turns her head to look at Kent, sleeping beside her. No, Kent doesn’t know what freedom is any more than Selena does. She thinks of Phoebe and the child she is carrying. Once you have chilren, you never know what freedom is again.

The people I loved, Rhea thinks. Jasper. She tries to call to mind, the width of his shoulders under his faded blue denim workshirts, the smell of
his breath, peppery and warm, and the way he walked across the yard to the barn, or handled a horse. Her children. She sees their faces, one by one, even the faces of the ones that died. How their blood and her blood mingled.

Serena thinks of Phoebe, the new life swelling, the child soon to burst out into the world. Selena sees the child taking its first steps, Phoebe hovering in the background, a blur, out of focus and only present from her mid-calves to her breasts, her hands out, palms forward, ready to catch the child if it should fall. Perhaps Selena is asleep now, she can’t tell. It seems to her that this is important, this view of Phoebe. It is trying to tell her something. Out of focus, her head missing, and her feet. Selena begins to cry in her sleep.

Diana falls asleep and dreams. She dreams of walking alone over the world. She dreams of wisdom, she dreams of knowing. In countries hot or cold, far away or not so far, she watches women as they go about their lives: cooking, sewing, carrying wood and water, planting, tending the earth, bearing children, nursing them. She hears their cries—of love, of joy, of fear. She walks the earth with long strides, bending her head to them, her lucent eyes gaze upon them, the radiant curve of her smooth brow sends blessings on them, her tears baptize them. Diana walks among the women of the earth and where she passes the women slow, grow silent, and an arrow of loss for something valued, half-remembered, pierces their hearts with sorrow.

Diana moves restlessly in her sleep, turns over, moans, flings one arm up so that it rests on her thick hair spread out over her pillows. She turns again and dreams some more.

She is seated in a garden in Arabia. It is very hot and the garden is on the top of a hill. All around below the hill the green fronds of palms spread themselves offering shade. Cool fountains run thin, clear streams of fresh water over glazed tile decorated in shades of blue and white. A woman sits across from her at the table, and other figures, too, but in the manner of dreams, she can’t quite make them out, nor can she tell if they are men or women. The other woman is dressed in long, flowing white robes of some opaque material and she wears a white headdress of the same material, rather like the headdress of an Arab woman or a nun.
Diana sees that she herself is wearing the same garment and headdress and this does not seem strange. The woman is olive-skinned, that much Diana knows, but whether she is pretty or plain, young or old, Diana cannot tell. She is a woman.

The table they are seated at is round and in the centre there is a round bowl filled with fruit. Seeing it, Diana reaches out, takes an orange, and without peeling it, bites into it and swallows. The woman across from her speaks then. In a voice devoid of fear or pleasure, distaste or anger, or even censure, she says that Diana should not have bitten into the fruit without washing it first. She points then, to small, rectangular buildings which Diana sees for the first time scattered below, beside the fountains, among the palm trees. There, she tells Diana, those are the washing houses. The fruit you ate without first washing will kill you. And Diana knows she will die.

Selena dreams she is walking in a garden. She recognizes the special warmth of a spring day when the sun is still gentle and life-giving, yet strong enough to warm her. She feels its glow, which seems to come from all around her at once, seeping through the skin between her fingers, probing its way between the strands of her hair to warm her scalp, spreading in a slow flood over her neck, shoulders, back, and legs. She feels it on her thighs and as it reaches her stomach, it spreads without resistance, through her very skin, inside her, warming and lightening her woman’s organs.

There are green plants all around her, some taller than she is, some rustling about her shoulders and her knees or caressing her ankles as she passes. The tall ones bend and whisper to her, moving their curving leaves aside to let her pass. Sunlight is thrown like handsful of yellow topazes over the leaves and stems of the plants. The air is filled with the green, growing scent of the plants, of the olive pale leaves of the green and yellow beans, the tangy scent of the crisp, wine-dark leaves of the beets, the thicker, darker scent of the fernlike fronds of the carrots, and the honey-sharp scent of the tomato bushes. Plants she doesn’t recognize, too, grow all around her as she walks. They bear fruit that hang in heavy, ripening clusters from their stems; speckled fruit the shape of lemons, or round, full fruit like plums. Their colours of rose and gold glow from within, and
glistening drops of dew, like blue diamonds, drip from their variegated green leaves.

She kneels in the soil which is black and moist and newly tilled. She lifts a handful of it to her nostrils, it crumbles richly in her palms, its scent brings pictures of caverns and deep green valleys into her head. She is filled with the peace and content that radiate from the plants, from the earth itself.

All their faces vanish, evaporate like dew in the wind, and all that is left for Rhea is the wind sweeping across the prairie grass, the great round sky, the low curves of the hills. The beautiful earth, a pang of terrible loss sweeps through her, to lose the earth.

Rhea has stretched out on the couch again, pulled the quilt up to her chin and is lying with her arms across her belly, her hands flat, one above the other, on its rounded warmth. She closes her eyes. I have tried to understand my own nature, that’s what I’ve tried to do. I have tried to find my self in myself.

One last spring, she says to herself. One last spring. And then she, too, sleeps.

“But I can’t leave Phoebe alone,” Selena said. They stood in the kitchen, Kent inching toward the hall where his coat was. “She’s due any minute, and when I ask her to come into town with us and stay at Martin and Irene’s place while we’re at the hall, she just refuses. And Mark won’t be back from that stupid basketball tournament till tomorrow.”

“You’re only going to be gone a little while,” Kent said. “A few hours, that’s all. You don’t have to stay around for the parties afterward. I’ll be here till eight or so, and you’ll be home well before midnight. And if you’re worried, you can phone every once in a while.”

“She won’t answer the phone,” Selena reminded him.

“I’ll make Jason stay with her,” Kent said. “That way he can phone you at the hall if she goes into labour, or if you phone here, he’ll answer the phone.”

“I wish you’d stay home, Kent, just this once,” Selena pleaded.

“Damn it,” Kent said, without much rancour, but she flinched anyway, “you’re being silly, Selena. A few hours, that’s all, and she won’t even be alone. I’ll call and check on her myself if you want me to. Anyway, I’ve got to check on the calves, so I can’t be away very long no matter what.”

Selena gave up arguing. Phoebe, sitting in front of the television, had no doubt heard it all even though Selena had tried to keep her voice down. Absently, she smoothed her new green dress down over her hips, then fingered the frill that ran around the neckline and over her shoulders.

“You look nice tonight,” Kent said, smiling at her from the doorway where he leaned against the frame. “That’s a nice dress—something different.”

“Do you really think so?” Selena asked anxiously. “I’ve never worn such a low neckline.” She touched the single pearl that hung from a gold chain around her neck. Kent had given it to her for a wedding present. She hardly ever wore it. “It’s pretty hard to compete with the town women and the big farmers’ wives with their fancy wardrobes.” She felt a little shy, he so rarely noticed how she looked.

“They won’t have fancy wardrobes much longer,” he said wryly. “You look damn good for a woman your age,” he said, serious now. “Three kids—you haven’t put on any extra weight. You look as good as any of them.” Surprised into silence, Selena crossed the kitchen, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “You better get going,” he said, not taking his hands out of his pockets. Selena stepped back, touching her hair carefully with her palms.

“Phoebe knows what to get for supper. You phone if there’s the slightest sign of anything happening with her.” She hesitated, then moved past him into the hall, looking for her coat, bending down to pull on her good winter boots, which she would leave in the car when she got to town.

“Have fun,” he said. “Who’s got the tickets?”

“Rhea,” Selena answered from her crouched position, her voice muffled. “At least I sure hope she hasn’t lost them or something.” She went to the front door and put her hand on the doorknob to open it, then turned away and stood in the doorway into the living room.

“How do you feel, Phoebe?” she asked. Phoebe was sitting on the couch, leaning back, her eyes half-closed, cushions pushed in the small of her back, her abdomen huge in front of her.

Slowly she turned to Selena, her eyelids flickered a couple of times and she murmured, “Okay.”

“Get Jason to phone the hall if you feel so much as a twinge,” Selena said. “You hear?” Phoebe nodded her head yes, once. Selena waited a moment, thinking how she was like that each time too, in those last couple of weeks, sort of in a trance. “Your dad will be at Tony’s. He can be here in five minutes.” This time Phoebe didn’t respond at all. Kent moved past the hanging coats in the hall to come and stand behind her.

“Will you stop worrying? Even if she starts you’ll have lots of time. It’s her first, after all. Jason and I will take care of her. Right, Jason?” Jason was sprawled full-length on the floor.

“Yeah,” he said, without turning his head.

“You going to get Diane?” he asked, “or is she driving herself?”

“We thought we’d go together in one car,” Selena said, turning reluctantly away, going to the door, opening it. “But I have to get Rhea first.” Kent laughed.

“Well, go on,” he said. “Diane came all the way from Saskatoon just to go to this shindig. Don’t make her late.”

“They say you can’t get a decent table if you don’t get there early,” Selena said, as she stepped outside. “Kent …”

“Go,” he said. “I’m on my way myself. You deserve a night out. Get!” In spite of herself, she had to laugh. She turned away, stepping carefully past the melting snowbank on her left, skirting a water-covered patch of ice on the cement, and went carefully around the car.

I know I shouldn’t be going, she worried to herself as she got into the car, waved at Kent, and drove away. But I so want to, and she made a little face at herself. Ladies Night Out! How she had looked forward to it
ever since Rhea had surprised her with the tickets, ever since Diana had phoned to say Rhea had called her, and she was coming home for it. Rhea ordered me to come, Diana had said. She didn’t give me a choice, and she had laughed, as if this were a pleasure instead of an inconvenience. But when Selena asked her what Rhea had said, Diana had said, I don’t remember. But I have a feeling she’s going to die pretty soon. Nonsense, Selena had replied. She’s healthy as a horse, she’ll see a hundred if any of us do. But privately she thought how Rhea had lost weight and grown paler over the winter. She was all right at Christmas, she told herself, but now I’m sure she’s thinner, and there’s something funny about her eyes.

It was late afternoon and the sun hung round and red in the west, turning the few low clouds on the horizon golden and pink. She turned into the sun, going toward Rhea’s. Here and there the road was muddy, and occasionally she drove across a patch of ice, but it was well-gravelled and she wasn’t afraid of getting stuck. Besides, it’s still freezing at night, by the time I have to drive back, the mud will have stiffened up.

“Tonight will be a full moon,” Rhea said, as she climbed into the car beside Selena. She had been waiting at the door, coat and boots on, when Selena drove up.

“Should be easy driving home then,” Selena said, pleased at how well everything was working out. A shiver of excitement passed down her spine and she turned to smile at Rhea. Rhea, however, was not smiling. She sat looking straight ahead, a solemn expression on her face, almost stern, her hands clasped formally and resting on her lap.

“I found a thousand crocuses today, on the south slope of that hill to the north. You know the one.” Rhea spoke without turning her head. “Another year, another spring.” She cleared her throat. Selena glanced at her, a little nervous. Not a bad mood, or a crazy one, she hoped. And then thought, what dignity Rhea has, she carries herself like a queen.

They drove past the turn-off to Selena and Kent’s place and kept going down the grid till they came to the turn-off that led into Tony’s.

“I imagine the girls will hate to see her leave again so soon when she just got home,” Selena said as she pulled up in front of the house. The door opened before Selena could get out of the car, and Diana stepped
carefully out, skirting mud puddles, her red shoes like bright birds against the muddy ground.

“No rubbers,” Selena said.

“Hi,” Diana said, as she climbed into the back seat. “Isn’t it a great evening?”

“The spring equinox,” Rhea said in a strange voice. She sat with her head tipped up a little, her mouth straight, her hands folded on her lap.

“Oh, yeah,” Diana said, her voice bright, “isn’t this some kind of ancient celebration—some rite or something?”

“A sacred time,” Rhea said.

“It should be,” Selena said with feeling. “The calves and colts coming, the grass starting to grow again, the crops being planted, the sun warming everything up.”

The sky to the west had begun to fade and the old wet grass that showed in patches in the ditches had turned a deep gold in the twilight.

“It feels so good to be here, driving with the two of you to town again.” Selena risked a quick look over her shoulder at Diana. She was looking to the north, out at the fields that were losing their cover of snow, turning black with the moisture, and at the low hills, purple now, in the distance. Her dark hair was loose and curled around her face and rested on the shoulders of her red coat.

“I swear you give off light,” Selena said. “I don’t know what it is, and red shoes, too.”

“What colour’s your dress?” Diana asked. She leaned forward and pulled back the collar of Selena’s coat. “Bright green! Heavens! What’s gotten into you!” She spoke in mock horror. “I never thought I’d see you in anything but those dresses you wear with pink and blue flowers or whatever on them.”

“Oh, thanks a lot,” Selena said.

They were approaching Chinook now. It was spread out ahead of them, the streetlights just switching on, lighting up the shadowed streets. To the east a full white moon hung suspended in the darkening sky.

“It’s been a hard winter,” Selena said, “what with Phoebe and everything.”

“Meaning me,” Diana said.

“When I got in that dress store, I felt like … things were different, or something. Not like they used to be. I don’t know. But when I saw this dress, I knew it was the one I wanted. I just knew it. I held my breath till I saw the price tag … and the size.” She laughed at herself, a little embarrassed. She had never cared much about clothes.

“And it’s the perfect dress,” Rhea said, still without looking at Selena. It was on the tip of Selena’s tongue to point out that Rhea hadn’t seen it yet, but she held back.

She parked the car a half a block from the hall. Women were walking by in pairs and groups of threes and fours, stepping carefully so as not to get mud on themselves, and cars passed by slowly, looking for parking places.

“Hey, there’s Lola and Phyllis and Phyllis’s mother,” Diana said. Lola and Phyllis had been her closest friends.

“And Rena and Selma,” Selena said. “Everybody’s here.”

“Phoebe should be here too,” Rhea said, then grunted, as she wrestled her big body out of the car.

“Didn’t you know who was coming?” Diana asked. Selena was bent over, struggling in the cramped space behind the wheel to get her overshoes off and to replace them with her new beige evening shoes.

“We started calving about three weeks ago, and you know how that is. I haven’t had a minute to myself, much less to talk to anybody.” Diana was already out of the car, checking her pantyhose, shaking out her long hair.

Selena got out too, slamming the door, and joined Rhea and Diana, who had moved together into the street. They walked side by side down the road, past the row of parked cars, falling in with the stream of women entering the hall, a bright procession of chattering, laughing women. Only Rhea was solemn. Inside, Rhea gave their tickets to the man at the door, they hung up their coats, helping each other, and checked, one by one, in the small mirror for imperfections in their makeup and their hair.

“Rhea, is that a new dress?” Selena asked. Rhea was wearing an old-fashioned black crepe dress with a rhinestone buckle in the centre of her full waist.

“I save it for occasions,” Rhea replied. “It isn’t new.” Then Selena remembered that Rhea had worn it at Uncle Jasper’s funeral, years before.
She was confused suddenly, for she understood now that Rhea saw something in this occasion that made it as important as her husband’s funeral, and she was puzzled by this, and uneasy.

“It’s perfect for you,” Diana said, imitating Rhea’s solemn voice, then burst out laughing.

Long tables were arranged at angles down the side of each wall, leaving an open space in the centre. Each table was covered with a long white cloth and the red plastic backs of the stacking chairs lent the room a festive air. Each table had a centrepiece of spring flowers, and coloured candles set in clear glass holders. There were men moving among the tables, lighting the candles, and the big room began to take on a cosy, intimate atmosphere. The guests moved among the tables, talking to one another, finding places to sit. The hall buzzed with their voices.

On the far side of the room, near the centre, someone was waving at them.

“It’s Phyllis,” Diana said. “Look, they’ve saved us a place.” Pleased, the three of them made their way to the table where Phyllis, Lola, and Laverne, Phyllis’s mother, sat. Selena sat down between Selma and Rena and Diana sat opposite her, flanked by Lola and Phyllis. Rhea and Laverne sat at the long opposite ends, Rhea, with her back to the women seated on the other side of the hall.

“Everybody’s here!” Selena said. “Even the grandmothers. I wonder who’s babysitting,” and everybody laughed.

“Thank God for grandma,” Lola said. “I’d go crazy if she didn’t give me a break once in a while.”

“Me, too,” Phyllis said, smiling down the table at her mother, who smiled back.

One of the men who would be serving came to their table, carrying a long, open box piled high with corsages.

“Pick one,” he said, faintly bored, and waited while Selena chose a yellow daisy tied with a green ribbon. He went to Diana then and waited while she chose hers. He turned away then and left without asking Rhea to choose one. Selena was about to say something when he suddenly returned, carrying a small white box, which he gave to Rhea.

He said, formally, as if he had rehearsed this, “As the oldest woman here, we have a special corsage for you.”

Rhea showed no surprise. She simply waited with a regal air while he, somewhat nervously now, opened the box, extracted a corsage of five red roses and buds, and pinned it to the shoulder of her black crepe dress.

“That’s beautiful, and “Isn’t that nice!” came from around the table, while Rhea nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“Isn’t that nice?” Selma said to Selena, looking around. “Is this your first time?”

“Yes,” Selena said. “It’s so expensive, and we’re always calving and so darn busy in March.”

“Rena and I came last year too. It’s fun,” Selma said. “I’d hate to miss it. There’s something special about it. Just women, you know.”