Three Black Swans (28 page)

She knew the answer Ned wanted: that she was drowning in
regret. That she wished they had kept the other daughters. That the final daughter had not raced out of the house as if Ned and Allegra carried a communicable disease.

But Allegra was drowning in wasted years. “We kept Vivi, Ned. But I didn’t love her enough or enjoy her enough or laugh with her enough or admire her enough. Ned, those other parents are coming. She’ll go with them. We’ll lose her. I can tell it’s going to happen. I deserve it. But I don’t want to lose her!”

Ned jumped up. “Let’s go after Vivi.”

“How can I face those other parents?”

“Allegra, the adopting parents think you’re a goddess. You gave them each a beautiful daughter. We don’t have to worry about them. We have to worry about Vivi. Let’s hurry.”

“We have nothing to offer!”

“We can show up,” he said. “We haven’t done a whole lot of that.”

What would she say to those parents? Because she couldn’t avoid them now. They had actually driven to Long Island already! She had said way too much to Vivi and it was impossible now to rewrite history. Allegra softened the edges of the decision in her mind, structuring phrases that would make it all ordinary and acceptable.

She could pull it off with those parents. But what about Vivi? What could she say to Vivi?

Hanging by the door to the garage was a photograph, enlarged, matted and framed, of little Genevieve with her beloved great-grandmother. The inherited traits of hair, eyes and chin
were obvious. Vivi smiled at it whenever she entered the garage, which never failed to annoy Allegra. The photograph was a clue. “We’ll say what GeeGee always says. We’ll tell Vivi she’s our sweetness and light. Vivi loves that line.” I haven’t been paying attention to Vivi, Allegra thought. I’ve been going to parties. Fixing my face. Staring at my career. But Vivi is my sweetness and light.

She flushed. Was she just mentally preparing a publicity release? Working on damage control?

“Those girls and those parents will want Vivi to spend the rest of the weekend with them,” said Ned. “We have to be charming, and agree to it, and wave her off, and stay cheerful. That’s the kind of parent she needs.”

For sixteen years, Allegra Candler had cheerfully waved good-bye and pretended this was the parent Vivi needed. “No,” she said to her husband. “We have to refuse. She can’t go.”

“Are you crazy? What kind of strategy is that?”

“We’ve thrown her away, as if we gave Vivi up for adoption, too. We have to bring her home, Ned.” And they’d have to talk. She knew that Vivi would prefer talking with her great-grandmother. Allegra dreaded telling old Genevieve about the decision she’d made years ago. Those terrible harsh eyes would judge her. When the older Genevieve showed her contempt, the younger Genevieve would follow suit. Allegra had to take the offensive. “We’ll drive to the nursing home. We’ll tell GeeGee everything. If we offer to visit GeeGee immediately, I think Vivi will stay with us instead of going with those others. At least for now.”

Ned paled. “My grandmother will kill me when she finds out.”

Allegra smiled at him. “She can’t move fast enough.” She took her husband’s hand. Their only hope in this scandal was their daughter. If Vivi stood by them, they might make it.

In her car, she slid the keys into the ignition. She seriously considered driving away and starting a new life under a false name. I want to, she thought. But I can’t abandon Vivi. Although I have abandoned her. Year after year.

How Allegra had resented GeeGee for taking Vivi’s heart.

But I never offered my own, she thought. That’s all Vivi wants. My heart. My small, ungenerous heart.

Allegra Candler prayed the first real prayer of her life.
God, open my heart
.

*  *  *

An immense SUV drew up at the New York–bound side of the train station. It was a big sprawling family car, the kind Genevieve’s parents sneered at. Doors flew open, and mothers and fathers leaped out. Missy and Claire received enough hugs and kisses from their parents that the girls might have been kidnapped and kept prisoner in a basement for weeks.

And then Genevieve was lost in the embrace of Missy’s mother. Kitty Vianello enveloped her, saying how wonderful it was, what a miracle it was, how lucky that Genevieve’s friend had seen the video, how beautifully this was going to work out. How even though she was furious with Missy for the hoax, she was joyful that it had led to Genevieve.

Genevieve had never been hugged like this. GeeGee was too frail and her own mother lacked enthusiasm.

Missy’s mother traded her over to Claire’s. You would never have known that Kitty and Frannie were sisters. They didn’t act, look or sound alike.

The dads weren’t as effusive. They didn’t hug as hard. They didn’t know where to look—at their own daughters, who were safe and sound, or at the other daughter. Not theirs, and yet the same.

Then everybody had to take pictures. They posed like any family at any reunion. Then everybody had to laugh and hug again. Missy kept saying to her mother and father, “I’m so glad you’re my parents!” which Genevieve certainly understood. She yearned to be loyal and stand up for her own parents, but there was no defense for Ned and Allegra’s actions.

It’s all about parents, thought Genevieve. Missy and Claire have learned a biological fact, but they’ll go on with their lives, which aren’t going to change. But I can’t unlearn what I’ve found out about my parents. My situation isn’t identical to theirs, even if my genes are. I don’t get another set of parents.

“Can you come home with us for the rest of the weekend, Genevieve?” asked Claire’s mother, clapping with excitement and dancing in place. She must be the Jazzercise one, thought Genevieve. “We’d love to have you. There’s plenty of room for seven of us in the car.”

“I’ll phone your mother and ask,” said Missy’s mother. “They’ll want to meet us before they let us take you away and I’m a little scared of meeting them, but of course I’m hoping to
coax them to finish up the little eensy legalities we need. It won’t be any trouble for them. We’ll pay all the costs.”

Genevieve felt as if she were standing in front of BB guns. Even though these grown-ups were throwing affection at her, it felt like steel pellets. It wounded her to see what her parents had done, to have to present excuses for them. “I think they might not be that eager to meet you. They’ve tried not to think about this for a long time. They won’t want to think about it anymore today.” Or ever, she thought. Missy and Claire will go home and talk and talk. I’ll go home and nobody will say a word.

“If you want to spend the night,” said Missy, “you don’t even have to pack clothes.” Missy’s eyes were sparkling. “Everything I have will fit you perfectly.”

“And be in the right colors,” said Claire.

“Every Friday Claire and I have a sleepover,” said Missy. “We’ll have it tonight instead. I used to call them Claireovers.”

“Have you girls eaten?” said Claire’s mother. “Let’s stop along the way and have a great meal to go with all this great news. Genevieve, are you a hamburger person? A spaghetti person? A salad person? Burrito? Help me out here.”

The adoptive parents were adopting Genevieve. She could go back and forth, part of each family. Not only could she have another set of parents, she could have two more sets.

“I want to have the first Gen-over,” said Claire. “My house is closer anyway.”

The one who wasn’t even going to talk to me wants me to
spend the night, thought Genevieve. She wants to name the sleepover for me. A Gen-over.

It was like standing in front of a Thanksgiving buffet. All the best food, all the good china, all the gleaming silver—and you can eat all you want and come back for seconds, and dessert is yet to come. Six people, offering platters of love.

“We’ll bring you home again on Sunday, of course, Genevieve,” added Claire’s father.

Six people beamed at her. Two of the smiles were identical to her own. Genevieve felt a despair so great she thought she might collapse. To be loved the way Missy and Claire were loved—what would that be like?

She felt the cool wind and the taste of autumn in the air. She smelled coffee from the kiosk down the platform. She felt tears burning the back of her eyes.

If I go with these people, I will shred what’s left of my own family. When I come home after a weekend with my new sisters, my parents will have even thicker shells. I’ll be even more in their way. They’ll keep exchanging Dark Looks. We’ll speak in formal tones and they’ll dream of the day I leave for college.

What do I want? The affection of excited strangers? Or the love of my parents? Not that I get a whole lot of love from them. I get a roof over my head and—

Her mother’s car pulled up.

Genevieve stared.

Her mother got out of the driver’s seat. Her father, always the passenger, got out from the other side. They walked toward her. Her mother called, “Vivi?”

Genevieve’s eyes blurred. To come here had taken courage and resolve. Ned and Allegra didn’t have much of those. This was huge. They had done it for her. They were going to meet the adoptive parents and admit the past. They weren’t going to hide.

A sob escaped Genevieve.

Her mother ran toward her. Genevieve could not remember when Mom had ever left Dad’s side to come to her. Genevieve held out her arms. It was extraordinary to comfort the woman who had never learned to give comfort.

“Oh, Vivi, I got here in time,” said her mother. “You haven’t left yet.”

Say it, Genevieve willed her. Say the three words. Say them out loud.

But Allegra did not.

Genevieve took the deepest breath of her life. It went from her toes to the sky. She would have to teach her parents. Could they learn? Did she have the energy? “I love you, Mom,” she said quietly.

For a moment, Genevieve thought Allegra might ask for a definition. And then Allegra Candler swallowed and said, “I love you.”

Her father took pictures of Genevieve and her mother. “We need pictures of everybody else, too,” he said. “I just called GeeGee. We’re going over there tonight. The three of us.”

“You told her already?” Genevieve was aghast.

“I told her we have something to celebrate,” said Ned. “I told her we’d be there shortly.”

The three of them never visited GeeGee, no matter what there was to celebrate. GeeGee will think it’s a college discussion, thought Genevieve. She’ll expect them to ask for money. But they’ll ask for understanding and forgiveness. Way harder than money.

What would the older Genevieve Candler do?

All her life GeeGee had said to her, “It’s about choices, my darling girl. Every single moment is a choice. Will you be good or mediocre? Will you be kind or indifferent? Will you be generous or cold? Every choice is always yours. Never somebody else’s.”

“Vivi,” whispered her mother, “the parents and the girls are waiting. I have to go up to them. I’m a little scared.”

“It is scary. But they’re nice, Mom. And my sisters? They’re just like me.”

Her mother struggled to smile. “They’re that wonderful?”

The most uninvolved parents in New York State were trying to be involved at last? Ned and Allegra were weak. They were going to need a lot of help. Genevieve considered her choices. She could shut them out or take them in.

Genevieve led her parents forward. She locked eyes with Claire and then with Missy. We’re about to find out, she thought, whether identical twin-triplet communication actually exists. Are we on the same wavelength? Will they know what I want? Will they give it to me?

I need you, she told her identical sisters. I need you to embrace my mother the way your mothers embraced me.

And then Genevieve Candler knew that she was a triplet. From Missy and Claire came tiny nods and starter smiles. We’re here, they said. We’re yours.

*  *  *

O
N THE DRIVE
back, talk was ceaseless. Everybody had opinions and stories, recriminations and questions, excuses and hopes.

“I’m so proud of how nice you were to those Candlers, girls,” said Claire’s mother. “Considering the ghastly version you’re giving us of their lifestyle.”

“It was a one-time thing,” said Claire. “I don’t feel any need to be around Ned and Allegra again.”

Missy didn’t feel any need either. But how could Ned and Allegra be avoided, if she and Claire were to have Genevieve in their lives?

“But you were so polite, Clairedy,” her mother said. “Especially to the mom. I thought you liked them.”

“Who could
like
them?” asked Claire. “Genevieve wanted us to be nice. So we were nice.”

We’re all pretending, thought Missy, that nobody here is actually related to anybody there. We’re pretending that the sort-of parents of Genevieve are just walk-ons, and that we can walk away. We loved crossing that bridge and leaving Long Island behind. The water barrier is a fear barrier too.

“Genevieve needed us to forgive her parents,” said Claire, “but Missy and I ended up exactly right. It’s Genevieve who has to forgive. We did two thirds of it. That’ll make it easier.”

No, thought Missy. You and I did none of it. Genevieve still has all of it.

“What do you mean, you did two thirds of it?” asked Claire’s father.

“We’re triplets,” said Claire breezily. “Two forgave. One’s working on it.”

Missy marveled. Claire had decided to give the biological parents only a minute of her time, only a shrug. Would that work? Or would Missy and Claire have a thousand nightmares where they were trapped in the little dark hall with the mother and father who wished they had never come? Would Missy and Claire, every day of their lives, shiver inside the knowledge that they were just recyclables? Soda cans put out by the curb?

It was decided to stop at a favorite restaurant because everybody was starving. The grown-ups argued about traffic and the best route to the best food.

The mystery, thought Missy, was not the existence of identical triplets. The mystery was how Genevieve had learned about love. Perhaps love was inborn, and you didn’t acquire it from observing your parents. Perhaps love came along with heart and lungs; you just had it from birth.