Early Spring 01 Broken Flower (16 page)

"But I'd be a liar to tell you life isn't full of little storms. You have to make the most of them, get stronger because of them, and never let them defeat you. Look at you," she added, and knelt to brush back my hair. "You look so much older to me already. Those eyes are still full of wonder, but I can see a young lady's wisdom beginning to show its first blossoming. You call me anytime if anything isn't right back in Bethlehem and I'll come get you immediately, okay?"
"Yes, Mama."
"Okay. Let's get the show on the road. This show anyway. The next one is coming soon after," she said, and started to sort out what she wanted me to take.
Grandmother Emma was waiting in the rear of her limousine for us and her chauffeur was standing by the open door as Ian. Mama, and I came out. Mama kissed us both again and we stepped into the limousine. Ian and I hadn't been in it that often, and never with just Grandmother Emma. The chauffeur put our bags into the trunk and then closed the door.
"Did you both go to the bathroom?"
Grandmother Emma asked.
"Of course," Ian said.
"Yes," I said.
"Good. I'd like to get close to Bethlehem before stopping for dinner. What sort of food would you two like tonight?'"
I waited for Ian to answer. He took a while. The chauffeur got behind the wheel and started the engine. Ian glanced at him and then at her.
"I think I'd like a hamburger.'"
"Well., well. And you, Jordan?"
"Me, too," I said.
"Well, that will be easy. I'm sure. Felix," she called to the driver, "take us to a good hamburger joint outside of Bethlehem, please."
Joint? I never heard Grandmother Emma use such a word.
Ian looked like he was smiling. His eves said he was, but he kept his lips tight.
We both looked back at the cabin. Mama was standing on the porch with her arms folded watching us turn onto the road. She looked so small to me.
She looked like someone who was slowly disappearing.
It made my heart stop and start as though it had a mind of its own and knew things I did not.

Grandmother Emma tried her best to make conversation with Ian and me. She asked us what we had done so far at the cabin and Ian went into a long lecture on carnivorous plants. He left out the black bear and the butterflies. Even so, he had so much to say. He looked like he was trying to teach her not to ask any questions or this is what would happen, a lengthy lecture full of hard to pronounce things.

Although Grandmother Emma sat and listened to him patiently. I could see her eyes moving constantly from him to me. It hadn't been that long since she had seen me, but I sensed that she was interested in any changes. Actually, her long, studied looking at me gave me a creepy feeling. I began to wonder about myself. Was my precocious puberty making me grow and mature even faster than any of us thought, even Dr. Dell'Acqua? Would I wake up one morning and look like a fully blossomed teenage Girl even though I was only seven?

"That's very interesting. Ian," she finally interrupted. "I'm sure you have more to say on the subject, but I'd also like to hear what your sister has been doing."

She looked absolutely shocked. "Today? Your mother took you two today?"
"Yes," Ian said. "We had reservations. When you make a reservation, you have an obligation to appear. The stable might not be able to replace us."
"Well, that sense of responsibility is very admirable, Ian, I'm sure, but you weren't exactly sailing on calm waters today," she said.
Ian smirked and then turned away to look out the window.
Grandmother Emma returned her attention to me. "How are you feeling, Jordan?"
"Okay," I said.
"No problems with appetite, nausea, bowel movements, anything like that?"
"It's not symptomatic of her condition," Ian muttered, without looking at her.
"I was referring to the possible side effects of her medication," Grandmother Emma said sternly.
Ian didn't speak or move. She was right, of course. He had given me the list of possible side effects.
"No, Grandmother," I said. "None of that has happened to me."
"Good. Let's hope it all goes smoothly and we put an end to this irregularity," she said. "I would hope you would have a normal spring, summer, fall, and winter in your life," she added.
That turned Ian around. Her comparison of the stages of human development to the four seasons interested him.
"Where would you place yourself now. Grandmother?" he asked her.
She actually laughed or really smiled and shook. "From the way things are going, I'd call it my winter of discontent. Ian, but I expect it will return to just winter soon."
I had no idea what she meant exactly, but Ian seemed to not only understand her, but appreciate her. He, too, nearly smiled.
"I must say," she went on, gazing, at the scenery that flew by as we traveled, "it's very lush up here this year. There must have been lots of rain."
"The average rainfall for the Pocono Mountains is four inches for April and they had nearly ten," Ian said.
"Is that so?" She stared at him a moment and then, to my surprise and I'm sure Ian's, she smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile. too, something we rarely saw printed on her otherwise firm face. "Your grandfather Blake was a weather fanatic, too. First thing out of his mouth in the morning was 'What's the weather today?' One would have thought he was a farmer. The weather had little or nothing to do with his work, but if we had an unusual amount of rain or snow or the temperatures went too far in one direction or another, he took it to be a betrayal, a broken promise, and ran on and on about it all morning. He absolutely hated it when weathermen got it wrong and he would not be beyond calling the stations to bawl them out. He thought everything in his world should do what it was expected or designed to do."
I didn't want to interrupt her. I had never heard so much about my grandfather from her before and had a hunger to learn more, but Ian was annoyed.
"I am not a weather fanatic, Grandmother," Ian said. "I'm merely aware of what goes on around me."
Her musing came to an abrupt end. The softness in her face dissipated like smoke. "No, you're not. I imagine," she said. "Actually, you're not at all like your grandfather, Ian."
I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a complaint and neither was Ian. He turned back to the window and for the next half hour or so, no one spoke. Grandmother Emma closed her eves and rested and while her eyes were closed. I was able to study her because I had rarely, if ever, come upon her sleeping in a chair. She always acted as if being tired was the same as having to go to the bathroom. You didn't sleep in public either. She would immediately excuse herself and go to her bedroom.
She did say once that she thought Grandfather Blake's falling asleep in a chair watching television and then snoring, was the most vulgar and impolite thing imaginable, especially if there were other than family members present.
Despite the harshness in her voice and the almost mechanical perfection in her appearance and her manners, there was something soft and feminine just below the surface. I thought as I studied her face. She had to have been very pretty when she was younger or my Grandfather, who we were often told had an eye for the ladies, wouldn't have wanted her to be his wife. From the few occasions I had looked at her photographs and seen pictures of her sister, my great-aunt Francis, I knew that they had both inherited nice features from their parents.
Even now, her skin was smooth and her complexion, relatively unchanged by makeup, made her appear younger than she was, especially when I saw her with some of her friends, women about her age, who even with their heavy makeup and surgical implants and corrections, still looked like
degenerating mannequins. Their voices cracked and their posture was poor as well.
There was nothing feeble about Grandmother Emma, despite her tiny hands and diminutive features. She didn't tremble or warble. She had no problem raising her voice, which always had a firmness. According to Daddy, her grip on anything was steady and true enough to allow her to be a brain surgeon.
And yet, when I looked at her now, and thought about what she had and what were her challenges and problems. I didn't think of her as a happy person. I thought of her as someone trapped in her own fortress, concerned only with patching the walls and keeping the demons away. Laughter, music, friendship, and even love were more often on the outside of those walls as well.
Did she love Ian and me at all? Could she? Or even more, did she even want to love us? Were we just a nuisance? Surely, she had these feelings about Ian. I thought, looking from her to him. He wouldn't let her love him anyway. He barely let Mama love him. I never ever saw him run to her and embrace her. It was always she who embraced or kissed him.
I wanted Grandmother Emma to love me, to care about me. I don't know why it was so important to me, but it was, and now. I had this illness, this precocious puberty that obviously disgusted her or at a minimum, annoyed her. Instead of growing closer to her. I had been dragged and pushed farther away by forces beyond my control.
Her eyes opened and she looked at me and the way I was looking at her. Unlike most other times. I didn't immediately shift my gaze. We stared at each other a long moment. She didn't smile, but she didn't look at me angrily either. She looked like she had seen something that, at least for this moment, frightened her.
"Felix," she called.
"Yes, Mrs. March?"
"I'm sure the children are hungry. How close are we to the restaurant?"
"Five more minutes and we'll be there," he said.
"Good." She straightened up in the seat. "I must say. I'm somewhat hungry myself, although I do hope they have something other than hamburgers, Felix."
"Oh, indeed they do, Mrs. March. It's a good menu.. I'm sure you'll be pleased."
When we arrived at the restaurant, she. Ian, and I were led to a booth. Felix sat at the counter as if he had nothing whatsoever to do with us. Ian ordered a deluxe hamburger, but
I
saw Mama's favorite lunch on the menu and ordered a Chinese chicken salad. I saw my choice impressed Grandmother Emma. She ordered the same thing.
"Is my father on his way to the cabin now?" Ian asked after the waitress took our menus.
His question surprised me almost as much as it did her. I knew we were supposed to behave as if we knew nothing about what was happening between our parents.
"If he's not there now. he will be shortly." she said.
"I hope so. I wouldn't want Mother to be left there alone." Ian said sharply.
"I think your mother is capable of taking care of herself, Ian."
"So do I. but she's had a shock," he said. "Don't you think she's in great emotional pain?"
I know my mouth was opened when she glanced at me.
"I don't think this is a subject for discussion for young people your age."
"Adult talk?" Ian said, smiling at me.
"Precisely, adult talk," Grandmother Emma said.
She smoothed out her place mat on the table, and after a few moments of silence to let the tension weaken and fall away, she folded her hands and looked at Ian again.
"Tell me, Ian," she said in a friendlier tone of voice, "you are an excellent student, you read a great deal, you have a strong interest in nature and in science, what is it you would like to be, exactly?"
Her interest in him took us both by surprise.
"I'm still exploring my options,'" he said. "It will be something to do with medicine, however."
"You want to help people, east their pain and suffering?"
Ian's eyes blinked and then narrowed. "I think I'd be better in research," he replied.
"Yes, so do I," Grandmother Emma said. "Research." The way she said it made it sound like something inferior.
"In the end I'll still be helping people," Ian said defensively. "I just won't have to deal with and be distracted by all the unnecessary bureaucratic business.'"
"Make no mistake in your brilliant thinking, Ian," Grandmother Emma told him, "even research scientists working in some laboratory are still affected and involved with politics. Money has to be raised. Contributors convinced. Don't neglect your people skills. Your grandfather was very bright and capable, too, but he was also very good at public relations. He was an expert when it came to diplomacy. You can't live in a vacuum."
Ian stiffened as if he had been scratched down his back. "I know that. Nothing can live in a vacuum," Ian told her. "It's like burying your head in the sand."
He could have reached out and stuck his fork in her and gotten the same reaction. She bristled, her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips so hard against each other, they resembled two nightcrawlers glistening in the rain. It was too much of a
coincidence not to know that Ian, and perhaps I, had listened in on her conversation with Mama.
Fortunately, before anything else was said, our food was served. None of us spoke. We ate quietly. When we were nearly finished, she asked if either Ian or I wanted any dessert. I did, but Ian said no, so I shook my head. He looked anxious to leave. It was starting to rain anyway.
"Then let's get home." Grandmother Emma said, "before this rain gets worse." She signaled for the check.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. The sprinkles turned into a downpour.
"We're in for a night of thunderstorms,'" Felix said, and then we saw some hail. It pelted the car and made it sound as if a chorus of dancers were doing a tap dance on the roof. As we approached the house, Grandmother Emma asked me about what time I took my medicine every day.
"As soon as I wake up,"
I
said. "That way I won't forget."
"I'll check on her," Ian told her.
She said nothing. When we arrived, it was still raining and hailing. Felix held an umbrella over Grandmother Emma and got her into the house. Then he brought in our bags and we carried them up to our rooms. I was worried about Mama and wished she would call to let us know she was all right. I was sure Ian was worried, too. After Grandmother Emma left us to go to her room. I asked him about it.
"I have the telephone number for the cabin," he revealed. "If we don't hear from her in the morning, we'll call her," he promised. ''Go put your things away. I'll be in to see you before you go to sleep."
I was glad he said that. I felt so frightened and alone knowing Mama and Daddy were having a serious discussion that could get mean and angry while we were so far away. It had been a long rollercoaster day, mixed with sad moments, fun moments at the stables, and then unnerving moments at the cabin and afterward in the limousine and restaurant. I truly felt like I had been tossed and turned, bumped, shoved, and bounced, just like someone in a car crash, rolling over and over down some steep embankment.
Because I hadn't taken a shower or a bath today. I decided I would do that before
I
went to sleep. I started to run my bath and put my things away. Then I went into the bathroom, took off my clothes, and put the bath oils into the water. I got into the tub and closed my eyes. It was so soothing and warm. I nearly fell asleep and probably would have if Ian didn't come in.
"That's good," he said. "I meant to tell you that you should probably take a bath first."
"Did Mama call yet?"
"No," he said. He stood there, looking down at me. I saw he had something in his hand. It looked like a small soup bowl. "How long have you been in there?"
"I don't knlow."
"Well, it's time you came out. I want to do something that I think will help us understand if the medicine is helping with your precocious puberty."
He reached for the bath towel and held it out. I rose and began to dry myself. He stood there watching and waiting. When I reached for my pajamas, he told me to wait. He picked them up and walked out to my bedroom.
"Come over here and lie down," he said. "You don't need the towel," he added, so I put it in the hamper.
He pulled back the blanket and told me to lie down on my back. "What is that?" I asked him, nodding at the cup in his hand.
"Something I invented. It's a device for breast development measurement," he said. "I have it marked in centimeters so it will be more exact," he said. I didn't know what that was, but I could see the precision with which he created his invention.
I crawled onto my bed and lay down as he wanted. "Just relax," he said.
He leaned over me and put the cup over my right bud. I saw him adjusting it so it would tighten and close until he was satisfied. Then he wrote something on a pad he had in his pocket and took the cup off. He then put it on my left bud and did the same thing.
"Okay," he said. "Sit up. I want to do this with you erect. This is a different measurement."
I sat up and he started to do the same thing. He had his back to the door, but I turned and saw Grandmother Emma standing there and looking in on us. I will probably never forget the look on her face. It was as if some terrible and horrible monster was about to pounce on her. She leaned back and even raised her arms to block out what she saw or keep the monster from her. In her grimace she brought the corners of her lips so deeply back and into her slim, thin cheeks, it looked like she had bitten on a sharp long knife. Even at this distance, her eyes resembled two bubbling volcano openings about to explode.
"IAN!" she finally managed to scream. The shout echoed around the room.
I felt my body freeze and my heart shrink in my chest. I knew I wasn't breathing.
Ian calmly and simply turned to look at her as if it was nothing to see her in my doorway, to see her on our side of the mansion, but mostly as if there was nothing wrong, no reason for her to scream or look the way she looked.