The Four Seasons (15 page)

Jilly didn't slow down, disappearing around the corner. Rose turned to Birdie, her face pinched, and asked plaintively, “Why does she always do that?”

“Do what?” Birdie felt weary and coated with grime and memories.

“Run away.”

Birdie shrugged sadly, then lugged herself up from the floor. “Let's go find her.”

They looked in Jilly's room, but she wasn't there. Nor was she in the living room, the dining room or the kitchen. But Hannah, who was snacking on leftover cake, told them she saw her aunt Jilly head for the basement.

“Of course,” Birdie said as they made their way there. “She went to the Lower Kingdom.”

“My God, I haven't heard that expression in forever.”

When they were children, they'd created worlds of the attic and the basement. With a child's simple clarity, they saw the world divided into two classes: the rich and the poor. So they'd created the Upper Kingdom in the attic where the royalty reigned in light and splendor. And in the basement, the Lower Kingdom, where the poor and desolate survived.

“I always liked the Lower Kingdom better,” Rose said.

“Me, too. It was much more fun starving and begging for food than being royalty. Remember the chamois rag I used for my shawl?”

“Remember it? I coveted that chamois. And it wasn't yours,”
she said, her eyes teasing. “It was Jilly's.” Before they opened the door to the basement, Rose paused to ask, “Do you think we should bother her? She's been hit with a lot. Maybe she needs time alone.”

“It's time to hit her with a lot,” Birdie said with a look of fierce determination on her face that Rose was accustomed to. “You're right that Jilly always runs away. But as long as she does, she'll never deal with the issues and they'll just continue to haunt her. Why do you think she's been married three times? It's not unusual for women who've given up a child to have rocky relationships. We can't solve her problems, but we can at least try to force her to ask the questions. She needs help, professional help. She went through that whole experience without a single word of counseling. That's what haunts me. And God only knows what she went through as a young girl alone in France.” She shook her head. “I don't know if I'd have been that strong.”

“But let's be gentle,” Rose cautioned.

“You forget, I love her, too.”

“Of course I haven't forgotten.” Then, turning to open the door, she added, “But you can be pretty forceful, Birdie. I just don't want to see Jilly hit with a Mack truck.”

Chastened, Birdie said, “I'll be good.”

They found Jilly leaning against one of the steel poles in the basement, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. The cavernous, damp basement was depressingly dim. A Ping-Pong table was covered with boxes, and old tools and appliances lined the cement walls. They approached slowly, Rose tugging at her hair, Birdie tucking her hands in the rear pockets of her jeans.

Jilly saw them coming and slid down the pole in defeat.

“Mom, what are you guys doing down there?” Hannah called down from the top of the basement stairs.

“Just talking,” Birdie called back.

Hannah took a few steps down the stairs.

“Go on back up,” Birdie called. It was an order. “We're talking privately.”

Jilly saw the tips of Hannah's clunky black shoes and frayed jeans on the stair stop hesitatingly. The shoes turned around and she heard a heavy, angry pound as Hannah stomped away, slamming the basement door behind her.

“She could have come down,” Jilly said gently.

“No. We need to talk without kids around.”

Jilly felt hounded and looked longingly at the stairs. “I'm about talked out.”

“I know, but we didn't like the way that ended upstairs,” Rose said, stepping closer, then plopping down on the floor beside Jilly.

“No big deal.” Jilly's face was closed.

Birdie came to join them on the floor.

It seemed there was nowhere for Jilly to hide. They were determined to have this out and her butt was getting cold on the hard, damp cement. She fingered her cigarette.

“Go ahead and light up,” Rose said with a flip of her palm. “I only said ‘no smoking' when Merry was alive because of her lungs and all. It doesn't matter now.”

“Are you sure?” Jilly asked, but she was already pulling out her matches.

“They'll kill you someday,” Birdie warned.

“Yeah, so?” She lit up and inhaled deeply, feeling better the moment she felt the burn of smoke snake down her throat. She exhaled lustily, not missing the disgusted expressions on their faces. She could not begin to explain to them why it didn't matter to her in the least what happened to her lungs, her body, her life. She was old and washed up, anyway, filled with a darkness that was more insidious than any cancer could ever be.

“Well,” Jilly said, looking around. “Since we're here in the Lower Kingdom, I believe it's time for suffering and angst.”

“Why does it all seem so sad now?” Rose asked. “Playing here was so happy. I lost myself in the game. The little villages we made seemed so real, I never wanted to leave. I remember I used to cry when Mom called us upstairs.”

“Maybe it feels sad because we know those days are over,” Birdie replied. “Do you know what I remember the most? The confidence. And the optimism. I really believed I could do anything I wanted.” She took from her pocket the photograph of the four of them as mermaids by the pool. She looked at it for a while then said, “What happened to us? We were so full of dreams and imagination. We're not the same girls we were then.”

Jilly laughed and shook her head. “I'm definitely not.”

“We
are
the same people,” Rose said. “We've just lost the girls somewhere deep inside of us. We're remembering things none of us have even thought of in thirty years. This is exactly what I wanted to happen while we were all together. Jilly, Birdie, don't you see? This is what Merry wanted, too. For us to remember. To bring us back to our childhood. It's ironic, isn't it, that she never left hers and she was so happy. I think that's what this search for Spring is really all about.”

Jilly stretched out her long legs, crossing them at the ankle. Birdie's face sagged at the jowls. Rose neatly sat on her knees, attentive, rather like a Japanese geisha.

“We should do it,” Rose said.

“Do what?” Jilly asked, looking up sharply.

“Find Spring.”

“Oh, come on…” Jilly moved to snuff out her cigarette with jabbing strokes.

“We've gone over this,” said Birdie wearily.

Rose took the photograph of the mermaids from Birdie and held it out to them. “It was her last request.”

“No.” Jilly's voice was cold.

“Rose, let it go.”

“We
owe
her.”

Jilly and Birdie both silenced.

“We owe it to her to do this one thing,” Rose continued, stronger now. “Each of us, for our own reason. Merry never blamed us for what happened, never did anything but love us all her life and she never, ever asked anything of us before.”

Jilly suddenly felt a little breathless. Her heart was beating like a rabbit's.

“You didn't know Merry like I did,” Rose continued in a gentler voice. “That's too bad, really. I don't mean that as a criticism, but as a point of fact. Jilly, you left at eighteen and really never came back. You only knew her as some perpetual little girl that you loved from a distance. Birdie, you managed the finances and fielded the medical questions, but you never came just to chat with her, to get to know who Merry was as a person. You saw her as a responsibility. Maybe you both were afraid to find out who she was. You only saw her as the woman she never became.

“I know everyone talks about how much I've given up to take care of her, but it wasn't like that. Not at all. She was gentle and sweet and a real hoot sometimes. Did you know she was a natural in the garden? She could make anything grow. And she loved to put out food for the birds and listed over two dozen different species she'd spotted right here in the yard. Merry was so curious about so many things. Most of all, she loved with all her heart. Merry would just sit and listen to me talk about anything, no matter how I went on and on. She'd know when I was sad and be cheery for me. And she loved to play games,
all kinds of games. Oh, I can go on and on. There's so much I can tell you about her…. I'd like to tell you. When you know her better, maybe you'll understand her request.”

“Maybe you're right, Rose. Maybe I
do
need to do this,” Birdie said quietly. “I've been unhappy for a long time and I don't even know why. When I think about all the dreams I had growing up, how excited I was to wake up every morning…I miss that girl, you know? I want to be her again. I need to find her again. And I think maybe you were right, too, Jilly.” She took the photograph and looked at it again. Four young girls were beaming with joy and confidence. “Maybe this
was
the end of our childhood. But maybe by doing this for Merry, we can rediscover it.” She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut in a pained expression. “God knows, I've got to try something.”

“I need to do it because it was Merry's last request,” explained Rose.

“I can't,” Jilly whispered, feeling cornered.

Birdie opened her eyes. “You don't have to. No one wants you to be unhappy. We'll find Spring and deliver the time capsule.”

“No.” Her fear made her voice firm. “I don't want you or anyone else searching for this child. Is that clear? Spring isn't some idealistic concept. She's not even a baby anymore. Spring, or whatever her name is, is a real person. An adult with a life of her own. We can't just go track her down and barge into her life. Maybe she doesn't want to be found. Have you thought of that?”

“We won't force it. We could just gather some information and make a decision later. We don't even have to meet her.”

“It could take years to track her down.”

“Then we'll search for years.”

“I haven't the first clue where to begin,” Jilly said, hunted. “I don't remember any names.”

“That's the easy part,” Birdie countered. “Those are just details, Jilly. The hard part is saying yes.”

“Please say yes, Jilly,” pleaded Rose. “We'll search together. The three of us. We'll be there for you, won't we, Birdie?”

“Every step of the way.”

If she'd known what they were going to do, she never would have come back.

And yet, in her heart came the whispering that that wasn't totally true. She'd always harbored in the most secret pocket of her mind the hope that someday she'd see her daughter again. Not meet her, that would be expecting too much. But just to see her child again, grown up. Yes, she was curious. Beyond that she wouldn't even dream.

She opened her mouth, “yes” poised on her lips, then shook her head and climbed to her feet. “No. Please don't ask me. I can't do it. It's over.”

 

Late that evening, Jilly sat on her bed, knees to her chest, a blanket wrapped around her, looking out the window at the yard. The room was dark. The moon, round and bright, cast its spell on the garden below. Bits of leftover snow looked like islands in the sea of dark mud and grass. Beyond lay the rectangle of sidewalk that surrounded the filled-in pool. When she heard the soft knock on her door, she rested her chin on her knees and called out, “It's open.”

She heard the door squeak and Rose's voice, soft and tentative. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She didn't turn her head. She heard Rose's footfall across the floor, then felt her weight on the mattress as she sat on the bed and moved closer.

“You didn't come down for dinner. I was worried about you.”

“I wasn't very hungry.”

They sat together for a while, not speaking, just staring out into the yard. Eventually, when the mood was right, Rose spoke.

“I'm sorry, Jilly. We shouldn't have pushed you that way. We didn't mean to upset you. We'll do whatever you decide. You matter more than anything else to us.”

Jilly rested her forehead on her knees and fought back the tears, undone by kindness. She felt Rose's hand on her knee, a silent comfort that abolished the enormous loneliness she'd been feeling. “I'm not blaming anyone,” Jilly began. “Except maybe myself. You don't know what you're asking me to do. How could you? Maybe if we'd talked about it years ago, when I came home from Marian House, everything would've been different. There wouldn't have been all those secrets and maybe I wouldn't have gone away.” She shrugged. “But that's not the way it was. You have no idea how hurt I was. I felt that everyone wanted me out of their lives.”

“No, Jilly! We didn't want you to go. We didn't know what was going on.”