Sleeping Beauty (38 page)

“Where is he?” Charles asked.

“He didn't tell me. He has a girl in New York; he may be with her. Did you come to see him?”

“No.” Charles took the basket and carried it into the house. “It doesn't bother you?”

“You mean about his girlfriend. Well, no, not anymore. It did, with the first one, about fifteen years ago, but it came to me after a while that what I really minded was being embarrassed because I'd married a tomcat. He is, you know; he has so many women I always imagine him prowling around dark places, looking for them. But of course you know all that; you spend a lot of time with him.”

Charles watched as she filled the garden sink with water,
and held the stems beneath the surface to cut them. “Why do you stay with him?”

“Oh, why. Why not? I'm mostly satisfied, and I assume he is, and isn't that what you want from marriage? To be mostly satisfied? I'm not embarrassed by him anymore; I just don't pay attention, and if I don't see it, it doesn't exist as far as I'm concerned. I've made my own life—I'm quite interested in business, you know, and I've gotten myself on three boards of directors of small companies—and I have as much of Fred as I want. We do have a life together, you know; we've been a couple for such a long time. It's always easiest to live with someone you understand and can predict. Why would I want surprises at my age? I'm not interested in sex anymore—” She saw Charles' color rise. “Good heavens, Charles, we've been brother and sister for half a century; by now we ought to be able to talk about anything. I find sex incredibly boring; all those contortions and groans; they're quite incongruous when you get to a certain age. Then, one day I decided it was a waste of time and quite beneath me, and suddenly, just like that, I felt . . .
light
, as if I didn't weigh anything at all and could just . . . float. Everything seemed so much easier, nothing dragging me down, nothing making demands on me. It was so amazing. And such a relief.”

There was a silence. Marian arranged the flowers in a tall crystal vase. “One of these days you'll feel it, Charles,” she said serenely. “I'm sure it happens to everyone at some time or other.”

“I want to talk to you about Anne,” Charles said.

“Yes.” Marian sighed. “It's all so strange, isn't it. Can you imagine, coming back after all these years, just appearing out of nowhere like some sort of apparition, and not greeting us, not giving us a chance to welcome her back? I was terribly disappointed. I looked for her after the funeral and she was gone. Wait a minute; I'll just put these flowers in the living room.”

When she returned, Charles was standing at the French doors, gazing at the backyard sloping to the lake, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “What would you have said to her?”

“Well, I would have welcomed her and told her how much we missed her and how glad we were to have her back. I would have asked her how she is and where she lives now and what she's doing, is she married, does she have children . . . goodness, she's almost forty, you know.”

Charles turned to face her. “And what would you say if she brought up that business again?”

“Well.” Marian peered into the refrigerator. “I have smoked salmon and tomatoes and French bread. More like lunch than breakfast. I could toast the bread; what do you think?”

“Whatever you have. What would you say to her?”

“I don't know; I haven't thought about it.” She took two plates from the cabinet and piled food on them. “I can't believe she'd bring it up. It's been so long. Twenty years. More than twenty. Why dredge it up? We've all forgotten it. Vince has made an extraordinary success of his life; it would be impossible to find fault with him. And Anne looked quite impressive at the funeral; she's obviously done well. We're all grown-up, you know—we're civilized people—and I have to assume there was some terrible mix-up that night, some confusion, and we were all so upset that we couldn't get to the bottom of it. But it's all behind us now, and I am certainly not going to be the one to bring it up; I don't even want to think about it. And I'm sure Anne feels exactly the same way.”

Charles nodded heavily. He picked at some of the salmon on his plate. “She was at Gail's last week. I thought I'd go up there and ask Gail what they talked about. And whether she thinks I ought to see her.”

“She's been at Gail's? Nobody told me. That's quite strange, that no one told me; I was practically her mother. How do you know she's been there?”

“Vince told me he heard it from Keith a couple of days ago.”

“Keith,” Marian said. “My own son. And he didn't tell me. Well, I suppose he thought I wouldn't be interested. I never talked to him about Anne, after all.” She poured
coffee into china cups. “If you want to see her, Charles, call her up. Why do you have to ask Gail's advice?”

“Because I don't know what to do, damn it! If I had some idea of how she feels about me—she hasn't called me, you know, not a word—if I could get a fix on how I should talk to her . . .”

“Just say whatever you want, Charles. From the heart. That's the only way to talk to a daughter. It's how I've always talked to Rose; that's why we're so close.”

“So you think I should get her number from Gail and call her.”

“If that's what you want. Goodness, Charles, don't be so timid. It's not like going into battle; it's just talking to your own daughter.”

“What about you? Are you going to call her?”

“Well, of course I'd like her to call me. She's the one who left, and I'd expect her to make contact with us once she's back. But if she doesn't . . . well, of course I will, just as soon as I know where she is.”

“I'll find out from Gail and let you know.” He pushed back his chair.

“Where are you going? You haven't eaten.”

“I'm going to Tamarack.”

“Today? Now?”

“As soon as I can get on a plane.”

“Well, that's not a bad idea. We used to go there every Labor Day, remember? I don't know why that changed. Charles, I'll go with you. I can find out about Anne for myself; I was practically her mother, you know. I'll just pack a few things; I won't be any time at all. A very good idea; why not get away for the weekend—especially with Fred gone? Give me an hour, Charles.”

“Marian, I'm going now. If you really want to come, you can get a later flight and call me when you get in. I'll be at The Tamarack Hotel.”

“Charles, I only asked you to wait an hour.”

“Much too long. I have to go before I change my mind.” He kissed Marian on the cheek. “I get awfully tired of being a coward, you know.”

He wondered about that as he walked back to his house, and he was still wondering about it when he was on the plane to Denver and the smaller one to Tamarack, flying over the San Juans in the fading evening light. Why had he said that to Marian? He never admitted any weaknesses to her, or fears or troubles, for that matter; he never mentioned them to anyone in the family except Vince and lately, Fred Jax. He could not do it. Ethan never had; neither would he.

But Ethan was dead and Anne had come back. And nothing was the same.

He rented a car at the Tamarack airport and drove the two miles to Gail's house. For the second time that day, he had not called ahead. In an odd way, it made him feel more in control.

“Grandpa!” Robin cried as she pulled open the door. “We haven't seen you forever!” She held up her face for a kiss. “We're eating dinner. You can have some; we've got lots. Mommy!” she called, tugging at Charles' hand to bring him with her to the kitchen. “Grandpa's here!”

Gail and Anne turned from the table, forks suspended in air. Ned shot out of his chair. “Hi!” he said. “I just wrote you a letter; I guess you didn't get it yet.” Charles was staring at Anne; it had not occurred to him that she would be there. Leo shook his hand. “What a good surprise, Charles. Would you like dinner? Come join us.”

“Hello, Daddy,” Gail said, standing and kissing Charles on the cheek.

Anne stood and held out her hand.

Charles started to lean past her hand, to kiss her, but Anne's frozen face stopped him. He took her hand formally. “It's so good to see you, Anne.”

“We've got cake, too, Grandpa,” said Ned. “Aunt Anne made it; it's chocolate with nuts and icing.”

“I'd like some of that,” said Charles. “I've had dinner.”

“And we have coffee,” Gail said, returning to her chair. “Sit down, Daddy.”

Charles walked around the table to sit beside Leo. There was a silence. “I only decided to come this morning.”

“You were lucky to get a flight,” Leo said.

“The plane wasn't crowded,” Charles said. “I guess most people are already where they want to be for the weekend.”

Another silence fell. The kitchen was shadowed, except for the overlapping circles of light from two copper lamps hanging low over the table. The wide windows were deep gray, fading to black broken only by a concentration of lights, like a galaxy in the distance, that was Tamarack. The windows were open to a light breeze, and on it floated the scent of pine trees and wildflowers, and a chill that hinted at winter. Not a sound broke the stillness.

“Well, we're glad you came,” Leo said. “We like it when this table has a lot of people around it. And we can talk about The Tamarack Company; talking makes more sense than all those letters we've been writing.”

“Are you going to get Grandpa some cake?” Ned asked Gail. “And could you maybe cut two pieces while you're at it?”

“Have you finished your dinner?” she asked.

“Mostly. I just like to look at dessert, you know, like it's waiting for me. Like it's my future.”

Smiling, Gail cut two slices. She gave a plate to Charles and set one beside Ned's dinner plate. She poured a cup of coffee for Charles and refilled the wine and water glasses on the table. Anne watched her precise movements, as soothing as a lullaby, and she began to calm down. It was up to her now, she thought.

“Would you excuse us?” she said. She stood and held out her hand to Charles. “I think we'll go into the living room.”

Quickly, gratefully, Charles pushed back his chair and followed her to the door.

“I'll come, too,” Robin said, leaping up.

“Not this time.” Gail put her hand on Robin's arm. “Aunt Anne and Grandpa want a private conversation.”

“What about your cake?” Ned asked.

“You eat it for me,” Charles said. “I'll get another piece when I come back.”

Ned grinned and shot a look at Gail. “He
asked
me,” he said.

The living room was quiet. Anne turned on a lamp beside
a wide couch and sat at one end. Charles hesitated, then sat at the other end. For the first time, they looked directly at each other. Remembering her as a child, Charles could not believe this was his daughter. She was dressed casually, in blue jeans and a white V-neck cashmere sweater, and her hair was tied back with a white scarf, but she had an elegance and sophistication that had never even been hinted at when she was a wild, troublesome girl.

“You're looking very well,” Anne said.

“Yes, I'm all right.” He gestured as if it were not important. “You look wonderful, Anne. You're so beautiful . . . you look like your mother, you know, but you're even more beautiful than she was.”

Anne shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“I missed you,” Charles said. “There were so many things I wanted to say to you. It was terrible, not being able to say them.”

Anne smiled faintly. “Was it.”

“I'm sorry. Of course it must have been worse for you. Where did you go when you left?”

“San Francisco. I went to college in Berkeley, and then Harvard Law. I'm with a firm in Los Angeles now.”

“You're a lawyer. I would have thought you were too . . . dreamy for that sort of thing. Although you always were good at arguing.” He smiled. “What kind of law?”

“Mostly divorce.”

Charles shook his head slowly. “I can't get used to it. Marian said, this morning, that you're close to forty. And you're a professional woman . . . a lawyer! To me, all these years, you've been my little girl; we just celebrated your fifteenth birthday—I'm sorry,” he said quickly as Anne's face tightened. “I don't want to talk about it, either. Why should we dredge it up? Tell me about yourself. You're not married?”

“But we must talk about it,” Anne said evenly. “It's still between us. It won't vanish just because you look the other way. That's a trick you have, the whole family; I remember that. It's like a conspiracy of silence, denying what you don't
want to see. You turn deaf and blind and smile into the silence. That was why I left.”

Charles remembered Marian, that morning, saying,
I'm not embarrassed by him anymore; I just don't pay attention, and if I don't see it, it doesn't exist as far as I'm concerned
.

He looked at his hands. “I'm sorry,” he said again. “You must hate us.”

“Only one of you,” she replied.

He briefly closed his eyes. “He still denies it, you know.”

Anne looked at him, her eyes like ice.

“I shouldn't have said that. I know it's not a . . . not a . . .”

“Debate.”

“Not a debate. I accept what you said—”

“Do you?”

“Yes! What can I say, Anne? I believe you. My God, it's like reliving it; the most terrible time.” He hesitated. “Are you going to see him?”

“I already have. He came to Los Angeles to threaten me if I talked about the past or tried to see any of you.”

Charles reared back. “Vince wouldn't do that.”

“Listen to yourself!” Anne said furiously. “For God's sake, haven't you learned anything? The first thing you always say about him is that he wouldn't do it. You have no idea what he would do; you don't know anything about him. Why wouldn't he threaten me? If you believe me, you know he's already done far worse.”