I guess you are supposed to give a little teaser, like chapter one, to get people interested, but I like this part and I think you will too. Maybe a spoiler or two, but that doesn't stop anyone from rereading the Bible, does it? More whirlpool sentences I'm afraid. Just ride 'em. It's worth it.
Chapter
Twenty Three
It took almost two more days for Barney to land at Heathrow. He hired a car to take him to the manor. Another 140 miles from the airport, a fortune
he’s spending here, like that’s important he reminded himself, mostly sleeping,
while the cabbie or driver or whatever they called them over here, popped
Bennies, driving in the pitch dark night over semi-paved roads, dodging random
sheep who left the flock to drop a lamb or two.
The driver so wanted to toss
one of those cute little lambs in the taxi, but the American was so huge the
lamb would have to ride on his lap, and were the American to waken, cradling a
sleeping lamb or be awakened by warm lamb piss drenching his trews, God knows. They packed guns he was sure. And at last, 5 a.m., there was the Manor. Beautiful
area. Beautiful Building. 17th Century, at least that part at the South
end, one of Charles’s pet projects with my tax dollars surely. Crumbling heap. So much history. Too many bennies,
he hoped they’d give him a snack and a nap before he had to head back. Several out buildings. Surely some kind soul would have sympathy. They ran out of gas about 200 yards from the
front door. The American jumped out and
ran to the house as though his pants were on fire or he’d suddenly come down
with the trots. It took a while to raise
a response at this early hour, so the cabbie left the American’s bag at the
door with him, accepted the huge fare, the generous tip, the sincere thanks,
and made his way around back to rustle up a charitable soul.
***
Ancient Ian, an almost comically stereotypical example of
the old family retainer, his duties now running only to answering the door,
perhaps a short time each day mucking the stalls, perhaps taking a ride about
on one of the horses, doing a little inspecting, exercising the animals a bit,
trying to be more helpful than burdensome since he knew his presence here was a
boon granted a faithful soul whose only scrap of life seemed within these walls. Sons in Canada and New Zealand, seen a few
years ago. Videos, emails, an occasional
voice call, children he knew were his legacy, so beautiful, so far away, a warm
corner of his weakening heart, his breath drawn each morning in hopes of
getting asked to sit down and share her ladyship’s lonely cup of tea when the
place wasn’t aswarm with grands and greats and steps, a vivid montage he
enjoyed immensely, but felt only relief at their departure, welcoming silence,
never lonely, always a welcoming snuffle from a horse, a grunt from an aching
new mother cow, whispers from the memories of the lives that had touched him, a
kind word from a delivery person or a housekeeper, silence shared in the sun
for too brief a moment with her ladyship who insisted, the only time her
lyrical voice was tinged with stridence,
insisted on being called “The Missus”.
Now, answering the door at this early hour, he said, having been
briefed, “I am so sorry, Commander, sir.
I cannot talk of it with you.”
“Ian, please tell her ladyship I must speak with her. I’ve come so far. Please, Ian.”
“It’s alright, Ian. You
can leave us. I’ll handle it. Thank you.” Louise entered the huge entry
hall. She seemed tinier than ever but
still had the shiny round, rosy cheeks, the generous halo of the whitest,
softest hair. The eyes, gimlet sharp, snapped to Barney’s.
“So sorry, missus. I
gave it all my best, ma’am.”
“It’s alright, Ian. He’s
bigger than both of us”, suppressing a chuckle underlying her words.
“By a long shot, ma’am.
Ring me if you need me.”
“Oh, yes, Ian. Don’t
wander far.”
“I never do, ma’am.”
“Commander.”
“So wonderful to see you looking so well, Mrs. Burnham, your ladyship.” He stepped forward
invading her space, leaning slightly toward her, looking directly into her face, her
eyes, leaving himself open for what he hoped would be at least a patronizing
hug if not a snuggle of welcome. She placed her delicate hands in the crooks
of his arms, and leaned into him and up onto her toes to barely reach the side
of his bristly chin for a slightly warmer peck than he had hoped for.
“Cut the crap, Barney.
You know, I am now officially your grandmother-in-law. And I’ve been politely asked by certain
people with very good reasons to respect their privacy and give you no
information."
Three small children who had been peeking through the
gallery rail came bounding down the stairs in pajamas and bare feet, the
oldest, surely not yet six, a tiny bit on the charmingly plump side, with a
corona of perfectly rust colored, soft ringlets, much like his Annie’s, (my fucking
heart hurts) that bounced as she sped down the stairs, indicating they were
undoubtedly Katelyn’s youngest, or at least the cherubic little ginger was. “Uncle Barney!” They scaled him as though he
were a climbing wall. “Aunty Maisie was
here but she’s already left. We rode out
far to the lavender field with her. Lulu
is scared of horses. She’s a baby. She has white hair like the twins, only
longer. The lavender field smelled so
nice. The horses didn’t like it. I got a new helmet. It has a pink skull on it. It’s not scary. I wanted to go to Italy with Annie and Lulu. I don’t like Joey. He pees outside. He doesn’t care if I see his winkie. Are you going to ride out with us?”
“Lord, lord, Sheila. Draw
a breath and go get your slippers.”
“Yes, grandmum.” And with a faint movement reminiscent of a
curtsey, they dashed upstairs and were dragged behind a quickly closing door,
but not before Katelyn threw Barney a quick wave and a vaguely flirtatious,
certainly welcoming grin.
“Well, every single cat got out of that bag, didn’t it
though. So you must stay at least one
night so our dear girl can have a break, since you will surely be heading to
Italy. She’s not going anywhere, and you
can pause in your pursuit to rest up and hear all of our lectures. Go up to the guest suite to the right at the
head of the stairs and shower and rest. We
will call you for supper.”
As he walked up the stairs, he tried to recall if he had so
much as spoken a hello, but lay on the bed thinking he could take the shower
after the nap.
****
The first weeks in Italy were so hectic, arranging school,
serendipitously able to start the next term right on time, rearranging beds and
dressers and rugs and curtains to befit the needs of yet another generation
filing through the villa. Iris was still
perky, though much heavier. She had lost
her husband, Paolo, to a heart ailment. But, barely fifty herself, and always in control of everyone's life, she had
rounded up a crew of craftsmen including some of her sons and sons-in-law and
at least one slightly older foreman that Maisie was sure was courting Iris.
The first day the children were in school, and when Lulu
could be supervised by Iris’ daughter, or daughter-in-law, or granddaughter,
no, it couldn’t be a granddaughter, but she’d figure it all out in due time,
Maisie headed to the doctor’s office. She’d
been spotting for a few days, and was having mild cramps. Now she was having heavier bleeding and the
nausea had stopped as had the change in her sense of smell that made any
cooking odors nauseating. She was sure,
so early in a pregnancy, she had already missed, which was confirmed by the
doctor. A quick curettage, orders about
sex—Maisie assured him that would not be an issue. Having made the rounds of the tabloids, that
story was well known to the doctor and he didn’t wish to query her more, just
sent her home with an armload of scrips, including an anti-depressant. The vital glow those first few days, so
enhanced by the body’s own chemicals, had faded, and Maisie was looking beaten
down and acting nearly affectless, going through the necessary steps woodenly,
hoping to come out of this funk and soon be wanting to live her beautiful life
again--a beautiful life she longed for and hoped for but that she was
completely sure was in her past and would never be a part of her future.
***
It didn’t seem that long a time had passed when Louise called to say the Commander had finally
arrived. When Maisie asked her,
chuckling, “Finally arrived?" Louise
could not help but laugh. “You’ll be
fine, my darlings. I’ll try to keep him
a few days. He promised the little ones
a ride out, and, thank you God, it has been pouring, so you have a breather.”
“I miscarried, Grandma.
You didn’t say anything did you?”
“No darling. You know
I wouldn’t. What can I say? My heart is breaking for you for so many
reasons. Maybe it’s for the best. A new start.”
“I keep saying that, grannie. It’s all I can say or think. I’m scared.
I’m afraid to see him. I feel
weak about it.”
“That’s good, baby. You
don’t know it, but that is from the need.
I can only say, let it be new. That’s
all I can think of to say. I don’t know
this time. I’m scared for you. But I think you should let it be new. And I know there is enough love.”
“I love you so much Gran.
You are the wisest of any of us. None
of us would have survived without you. Thank
you.”
“Well, Margaret Mary, isn’t that only fitting since none of
you would be here were it not for me?”
So the phone call ended with them both smiling out loud.
Maisie set the phone
down thinking there were reasons. There
were. And she was ready to wait and see
what they were.
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