Legacy of Silence (29 page)

And yet, it would take up my life. It’s an enormous, dangerous mountain that I’d have to climb with the hope of finding justice and peace on top. But
there may well be no peace or justice on top. If I lose the case, I’ll be a thousand times worse off than I am now.

Lore said I should put it all behind me, and live. Tom’s out there waiting for me—

The bedroom door opened. Light fell upon the bed and the hands of the clock, standing at midnight. Light fell upon Jane in her elephant-printed nightgown.

“Where’s my daddy?” she demanded. “I’m looking for my daddy.”

“Darling, we told you he’s gone away. And you,” Eve said very gently and no doubt ineffectually, “should be asleep.”

“Where did he go? I want to go there, too.”

“You can’t. He went far away, and you can’t. I can’t, either.”

“Why?”

Oh, dear! What advice would a child psychologist give right now? Eve had no idea, and having none, had to improvise.

“Because—you see, you have to be older to go there. You’re too young, and I am, too.”

The canny, small person in the doorway came close to the bed. Her cheeks were wet, her nose was running, and her stare was suspicious.

“You know where he is, and you won’t tell me,” she said. “Vicky says he’s in heaven, but that’s not true.”

“Yes, yes, it is true,” Eve cried. “People have to
wait their turn, you see, and it’s very, very far, so that’s why—Come into bed with me,” she urged as the wet face began to crinkle into tears. “Here’s a tissue for your nose. Get under the covers and—No, let’s go to your bed. You should be asleep. It’s late.”

From the bottom of Jane’s lungs, there burst a howl. “I want my daddy. I don’t want my bed, or yours either, and I don’t want Vicky’s. I don’t like Vicky. I went down to the music looking for my daddy, and she was mean to me. I’m not going to her bed, I said!”

“No, no, you don’t have to.”

“I want Lore.”

“Lore went home to her house right after your supper. You need to go to bed. Come, I’ll take you.”

“I don’t want to, Eve, I don’t,” Jane screamed.

You definitely never bribe a child. That was elementary. Still, in an emergency …

“If I give you a cookie, will you go like a good girl?”

Jane considered. “Two cookies. Chocolate chip. I don’t like the other kind.”

“All right. Climb into your bed while I go to the kitchen and get them.”

Quieted by chocolate, the tight little compact body relaxed against the pillow.

“Where’s Peter?” Jane asked.

“In his basket in the kitchen.”

“I want him to sleep with me. Will you let him? Vicky won’t let him.”

“Of course I will if you want him. Now turn the light out and you’ll go to sleep. Right? Promise?”

Vaguely, she remembered that you weren’t supposed to bargain with children, either, and she waited.

“All right. I promise.”

Eve went to fetch Peter. She was about to emerge from the kitchen in her bathrobe with the dog in her arms, when abruptly the music ceased and Vicky’s guests trooped into the front hall with loud goodbyes. When the front door slammed, Eve came out and started upstairs, hoping to avoid Vicky. Midnight was too late for the inevitable confrontation, but she was not quick enough.

“Where are you taking that dog?” Vicky called.

“To Jane’s room. She’s upset, and she wants him.”

“That’s nonsense. Joel started it and it ought to be stopped. He sheds all over the rugs. Anyway, what is she doing awake at this hour?”

“The noise kept her awake,” Eve said quietly, “as it did me.”

“Nonsense. Healthy people should be able to sleep through a little music.”

All the turmoil in Eve boiled up and swamped her resolve to control herself until morning.

“Music? Nobody’s ears,” she said, “could withstand that racket. It shook the house.”

“I’m awfully sorry that my taste in music doesn’t suit you, Eve. But what can you expect? I haven’t had your high-class opportunities.”

“A remark like that is disgusting, and you know it.”

“Don’t you tell me I’m disgusting. Who do you think you are, anyway, walking around here as if you were smelling something bad? From the day Joel died, you’ve been looking like that.”

“I am smelling something bad. Very bad. The dirty deal you put over with that phony will you had my poor father sign.”

“Phony will? You’re out of your mind. What did you think, that he was going to leave everything to you? I was his wife, and you’d better believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it. You’ve made it obvious enough.” Eve’s anger was red now, a red blur in front of her eyes. “But now you’re a widow, and somebody ought to tell you, in case you don’t know, that a proper widow doesn’t give rowdy parties until at least one year has gone by.”

“Rowdy party! Because a few friends dropped in to cheer me up? What do you want me to do, sit around and cry?”

“I don’t want you to do anything. I don’t give a damn what you do. You can burn the house down for all I care as long as I’m not in it.”

“Burn the house down!” Vicky laughed. “Fat chance. If I stay here, I’m going to build an addition. It needs more space for entertaining.”

The two women, Eve halfway up the stairs and Vicky at its foot, were glaring at each other. And suddenly, in the midst of Eve’s rage, there came a
striking memory of the little brown house and the yard with the grape arbor, where Vicky had been her part-time baby-sitter, playing in the sandbox with her to earn some pocket money.

How had they come to this enmity?

“So this house is not large enough for you, Vicky?”

“The bigger, the better. Now will you take that dog back where he belongs?”

“No, Jane wants him.”

“You’re forgetting that I am the owner here now, and you are a guest.”

“Not for long. As soon as I can pack and get a seat on the plane, I’m leaving.”

From the bedroom now came Jane’s cry. “Where are you, Eve?”

No, there was no way she could ever leave this child behind.

“You’ve won, Vicky. You’ve played dirty, and you’ve won. Except for one thing. You can’t have Jane. I’m taking her with me, and you’d better not fight me.”

Vicky laughed again. “Fight you? Good God, that kid is the last thing I’d fight for. She’s a pain in the neck. You’re welcome to her.”

Suddenly, Eve felt curiosity. “Don’t you care about anybody at all? Anybody but yourself? No pity, no feeling for this little baby?”

“Of course I have. I’m no monster. But I know you’ll be good to her, and anyway, Joel would probably
want you to have her. He never said so, but—I suppose Lore told you we weren’t hitting it off too well, Joel and I. Not that anybody but Lore would have noticed.”

“Well then, that’s settled,” Eve said.

She slept the rest of the night on a lounge chair in Jane’s room, while Jane slept peacefully with the dog.

Emmy Schulman and Lore came the next day. Emmy worried and wept.

“I don’t know how you’re going to manage. Now you say you have to take two make-up courses for eight weeks. For goodness’ sake, whatever are you going to do with a child? Oh, honey, I just don’t see how you’re going to do it. This whole thing is abominable. If Caroline knew! Her lovely house and all her labor gone up in smoke.”

Having made up her mind, Eve went briskly about the packing. A carton of toys and a carton holding photographs and some of Caroline’s favorite books were to go by express. She had bought a large new suitcase for all of Jane’s clothes. They were leaving nothing behind. She wondered aloud whether Peter was small enough to fit in a container under the seat, or whether he ought to go in a crate.

“He’ll probably be more comfortable in a good-sized crate,” Lore suggested. “The vet can give him a tranquilizer beforehand.”

“You’re not taking the dog!” cried Emmy. “Lore,
I don’t think she knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“You worry about Eve more than I do,” Lore said, lightly scolding. “Eve’s a practical person. She’s like her mother. Besides, she has a rich boyfriend. He’ll be a big help.”

“Not because he’s rich,” Eve said. “I suppose his family is, but he doesn’t take anything from them. He works hard and lives a very plain life.”

Tom, after the first telephoned appeal, had arranged everything. Eve was to move off campus into the top floor of a private house owned by a pleasant old couple. Since the arrangement was only to last over the summer, they would be willing to take care of Jane, and the dog, too, while Eve was in class. On weekends, Eve and Jane would go to Tom’s beach house.

“Does he know these people?” asked Emmy.

“Friends of his know them well. Tom checked, and everything is okay.”

“What about after the eight or nine weeks?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” Eve replied.

Emmy admonished her gently. “A little before then, I hope.”

“Yes, of course.”

“She’s well meaning,” Lore remarked when Emmy had left, “but sometimes she really can be a wet blanket.”

Eve wanted only to get out of the house. It was just a container, after all. It had contained Caroline and Joel, but they were gone, and with them the soul of the house had fled, leaving behind some dead possessions that would acquire new meanings as through the years they might pass, by gift or auction sale, from one owner to another.

This, she thought, cramming Jane’s stuffed Kanga and Roo into the carton, is no time for sentimentality, no time for weeping.

But along with this stifled grief was a great stir of excitement. It mounted as the departure neared. Positive visions floated before her eyes: Tom, waiting at the airport with that spectacular smile spread from his twinkle to his teeth; friends, and their amazement to find her returning with a child; the shack, and the beach, and the ocean winds at night.

Jane was thrilled about it all. She had found a spot with no trees to obscure the view, where, for long minutes, she stood watching the sky and keeping count of passing planes. On learning that Lore was not coming with them, she was temporarily stricken, but with Lore’s promise to visit, she was comforted. The atmosphere was clearing.

And Vicky, now that affairs were settled, was even trying to make some civilized amends. “It’s foolish to fly tourist class with Jane and all your carry-ons. Why be cramped and miserable? Let me treat you to some first-class tickets, my parting gift.”

“We won’t be miserable,” Eve told her, “but thank you for the offer.”

So that was that. One could only wonder what was in Vicky’s mind, whether she had any conscience at all, or whether she truly thought that she had merely protected her rights as a wife.

Lore shrugged. “You’ll break your head if you wonder too long about human motives. Your own family’s history should teach you that. The Hartzingers, and your mother—well, no need to draw pictures for you.”

No need. Think, rather, of the blue Pacific.

“I wonder whether I’ll ever see Ivy again,” she said.

“What? You’re abandoning me?”

But Lore knew better. And Eve, torn between a need to get away and pain at the sight of Lore’s last-minute grief, hugged her close, saying, “You’ll come for long, long visits. You’ll fall in love with the climate, and you won’t want to leave.”

Early on the last day, the rented station wagon arrived to take them on their long ride to the airport. Eve, Jane, their heaps of luggage, and their dog were loaded in, while Lore, containing her tears, waved from the doorstep. The car took the road to the highway, and Ivy fell behind them.

The sun was just appearing at the bottom of the sky. Then, as they rode along, it made a stupendous leap; upward it soared, streaked the dark dome with
its flame, and scattered its diamond spangles through the still-dark trees.

“Look, Jane!” Eve cried, and pointed. “Look! You’ve never seen it before. It’s the sunrise.”

T
he room had been carved out of an open attic. There were windows on both sides with the breeze coming through them, and when you looked out, a garden below. Twin beds with fresh white coverlets stood against one wall. There were shelves convenient for Eve’s few textbooks, and in one corner, a large, red-roofed dollhouse.

“This was our daughter’s room,” Mrs. Dodge explained. “We rent it out to students now. It’s taken from mid-September on, but that fits right in with your schedule, doesn’t it? I hope you’ll like it.”

“It’s lovely. I’m delighted,” Eve assured her.

“It’s a long time since we’ve had a little girl in the house. But Jane and I will get along fine while you’re working. Our son lives on the next block, and his boys are Jane’s age. They’re nice, Jane, twins, and you’ll have fun with them. I understand you and Jane
are sisters? Your friend, Mr. Tappan, told us and was quite concerned that everything should be in perfect order for you.”

“Yes, he’s a good friend.”

The woman was curious. Obviously, she would like to hear more. Nevertheless, you could tell that she was kindly. And after the events of the last week, her welcome was a warm bath.

“Oh, my, I just remembered what time it is. We’re three hours behind you. You must be starved.”

Jane promptly announced, “I want a hamburger.”

“Tom’s taking us to dinner. Wash your hands,” Eve said. “We’ll unpack and bathe later. She’s a good child,” she explained while Jane was in the bathroom. “She’s had a bad time since our father died, but I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with her. Or with the dog, either,” she added, remembering Peter, whom Tom was now taking for a much-needed walk.

“Mr. Tappan bought a basket for him. I forgot to bring it upstairs for you.”

Tom had thought of everything: flowers, candy, and a basket for Peter. From the first moment when they had trooped off the plane, he had wrapped them with love.

In the evening, after a quick supper and Jane’s quick removal to bed, they sat together at the back of the Dodges’ garden.

“Let me look at you,” he said. “I’ve hardly had a quiet chance between the airport and the hamburger joint.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve got a pocket flashlight. Look up.” And when she obeyed, he pronounced that she was as beautiful as he remembered. “But you do look a bit worn. It must have been a hellish time.”