Ladder of Years Page 14

  Her heart gave a lurch. She said, “Eliza?”

  Eliza moved forward abruptly, as if she had just this second determined something.

  There was no one beside her. No one behind her.

  No one.

  She was wearing a dress—a tailored tan shirtwaist that dated from the time when they still had a Stewart’s department store. Eliza almost never wore dresses. This must be a special occasion, Delia thought, and then she thought, Why, I am the occasion. She rose, fumbling with her yogurt cup. “Hello, Eliza,” she said.

  “Hello, Delia.”

  They stood awkwardly facing each other, Eliza gripping a boxy leather purse in both hands, until Delia recollected the old man on the east bench. He appeared to be intent on his magazine, but that didn’t fool her in the least. “Would you like to take a walk?” she asked Eliza.

  “We could,” Eliza said stiffly.

  She was probably angry. Well, of course she was angry. Bundling her lunch things into the trash basket, Delia felt like a little girl hiding some mischief. She sensed she was blushing, too. Hateful thin-skinned complexion, always giving her away. She slung the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and set off across the square, with Eliza lagging a step behind as if to accentuate Delia’s willfulness, her lack of consideration. When they reached the street, Delia stopped and turned to face her. “I guess you think I shouldn’t have done this,” she said.

  “I didn’t say that. I’m waiting to hear your reasons.”

  Delia started walking again. If she had known Eliza would pop up this way, she would have invented some reasons ahead of time. It was ridiculous not to have any.

  “Mr. Sudler thought you were a battered wife,” Eliza said.

  “Who?”

  “The roofer. Vernon Sudler.”

  “Oh, Vernon,” Delia said. Yes, of course: he would have seen the newspaper.

  They crossed the street and headed north. Delia had planned to visit the thrift shop, but now she didn’t know where she was going.

  “He phoned us in Baltimore,” Eliza said. “He asked for—”

  “Baltimore! What were you doing in Baltimore?”

  “Why, we packed up and drove there after you left. Surely you didn’t think we’d stay at the beach.”

  Actually, Delia had thought that. But she could see now it would have looked strange: everybody slathering on the suntan lotion as usual, industriously blowing air into their rafts while the policemen gave their bloodhounds a sniff of Delia’s slippers.

  “We thought at first you’d gone to Baltimore yourself,” Eliza was saying. “You can imagine the fuss with the floor refinishers when all of us walked in. And when we didn’t find you there … Well, thank goodness Mr. Sudler called. He called the house last night, inquiring how to get in touch with me personally, and as luck would have it I was the one who answered. So he said he could swear you hadn’t been kidnapped, but he hesitated to tell the police because he believed you’d had good cause to run away. He said you got out of his van at a church that counsels battered women.”

  “I did?”

  Delia stopped in front of the florist’s shop.

  “You saw their signboard and asked him to let you out, he said.”

  “Signboard?”

  “And also there’d been some discussion, he said, something you two were discussing that made him wonder later if … But he wouldn’t tell me your whereabouts, in case your husband was dangerous. ‘Dangerous!’ I said. ‘Why, Sam Grinstead is the kindest man alive!’ I said. But Mr. Sudler was very fixed in his mind. He said, ‘I only called to tell you she’s all right, and I want to say too I didn’t know at the time that she was running away. She just begged me for a ride to this certain town,’ he said, ‘and claimed that she had family there, so I didn’t see the harm.’ Then he said not to tell Sam, but of course I did tell Sam; I could hardly keep it a secret. I told Sam I would come talk to you first and find out how things stood.”

  She waited. She was going to make Delia ask. All right. “And what did Sam say back?” Delia asked.

  “He said well naturally I should come. He agreed completely.”

  “Oh.”

  Another wait.

  “And he quite understood that I couldn’t divulge which town it was till we’d talked.”

  “I see,” Delia said.

  Then she said, “But how did you know the town?”

  “Why, because you told Mr. Sudler you had family there.”

  “Family. Um …”

  “Our mother’s family! In Bay Borough.”

  “Mother’s family lives in Bay Borough?”

  “Well, they used to. Maybe some still do, but nobody I would have heard of. You knew that. Bay Borough? Where Aunt Henny lived? And Great-Uncle Roscoe had his chicken farm just west of?”

  “That was in Bay Borough?”

  “Where else!”

  “I never realized,” Delia said.

  “I can’t imagine why not. Shoot, there’s even a Weber Street—Grandmother Carroll’s maiden name. I crossed it coming in from Three eighty. And a Carroll Street just south of here, if I remember correctly. Isn’t there a Carroll Street?”

  “Well, yes,” Delia said, “but I thought that was the other Carrolls. The Declaration of Independence Carrolls.”

  “No, dear heart, it’s our Carrolls,” Eliza said comfortably. Proving her point had evidently put her in a better mood.

  They started walking again, passing the dentists’ office and the optician’s. “In fact, I believe we’re related to the man who started this town,” Eliza said. “But only by marriage.”

  “The man … You mean George Bay?”

  “Right.”

  “George Bay the deserter?”

  “Well, you’re a fine one to talk, might I mention.”

  Delia flinched.

  “So I drove on over this morning,” Eliza said, “and inquired anywhere I thought you might be staying. Turns out there’s only one inn, not counting that sleazy little motel on Union Street. And when I didn’t find you there I figured I’d keep an eye on the square, because it looked to be the kind of square that everybody in town passes through at one time of day or another.”

  They were abreast of Mr. Pomfret’s office now. If he had returned from lunch he could glance out the front window and see her walking by. Miss Grinstead with a companion! Acting sociable! She hoped he was still in the Bay Arms Restaurant with his cronies. At George Street she steered Eliza left. They passed Pet Heaven, where a boy was arranging chew toys next to the sacks of kibble.

  “Delia,” Eliza said, “Mr. Sudler had it wrong, didn’t he? I mean, is there some … problem you want to tell me about?”

  “Oh, no,” Delia said.

  “Ah.” Eliza suddenly looked almost pretty. “See there? I told him so!” she cried. “I told him I was positive you just needed a little breather. You know what the police said? When we called them, this one policeman said, ‘Folks,’ he said, ‘I’ll wager any amount she is perfectly safe and healthy.’ Said, ‘The most surprising number of women seem to take it into their heads to walk out during family vacations.’ Did you know that? Isn’t that odd?”

  “Hmm,” Delia said. Her feet felt very burdensome. She could just barely drag them along.

  “I guess he’d had lots of experience, working in Bethany Beach and all.”

  “Yes, I guess he had,” Delia said.

  “So should we collect your things, Dee?”

  “My things,” Delia said. She stopped short.

  “I’m parked down next to the square. Do you have any luggage?”

  Something hard rose up in Delia’s throat—a kind of stubbornness, only fiercer. She was taken aback by the force of it. “No!” she said. She swallowed. “I mean, no, I’m not going with you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I want … I need … I have a place now, I mean a job, a position, and a place to stay. See? There’s where I live,” Delia said, gesturing toward Belle’s. The
gauze curtains in the downstairs windows looked like bandages, she noticed.

  “You have a house?” Eliza asked incredulously.

  “Well, a room. Come see! Come inside!”

  She took Eliza’s elbow and drew her toward the porch. Eliza hung back, her arm as rigid as a chicken wing. “A real estate agent owns it,” Delia told her as she opened the door. “A woman real estate agent, very nice. The rent is extremely reasonable.”

  “I should think so,” Eliza said, gazing about.

  “I work for a lawyer just around the corner. He’s the only lawyer in town and he handles everything, wills, estates … and I have total charge of his office. I bet you didn’t think I could do that, did you? You probably thought it was just because I was Daddy’s daughter that I worked in the office at home, but now I’m finding …”

  They were climbing the stairs, Delia in front. She wished Belle would hang some pictures. Either that or put up new wallpaper. “Basically this whole floor is mine,” she said, “because the other boarder travels during the week. So I have a private bathroom, see?” She waved toward it. She unlocked the door to her room and walked in. “All mine,” she said, setting her handbag on the bureau.

  Eliza advanced slowly.

  “Isn’t it perfect?” Delia asked. “I know it might seem a bit bare, but—”

  “Delia, are you telling me you plan to live here?”

  “I do live here!”

  “But … forever?”

  “Yes, why not?” Delia said.

  She kept feeling the urge to swallow again, but she didn’t give in to it. “Sit down,” she told Eliza. “Could I offer you some tea?”

  “Oh, I … no, thanks.” Eliza took a tighter grip on her purse. She seemed out of place in these surroundings—somebody from home, with that humble, faded look that home people always have. “Let me make sure I’m understanding this,” she said.

  “I could heat up the water in no time. Just have a seat on the bed.”

  “You are telling me you’re leaving us forever,” Eliza said, not moving. “You plan to stay on permanently in Bay Borough. You’re leaving your husband, and you’re leaving all three of your children, one of whom is still in high school.”

  “In high school, yes, and fifteen years old, and able to manage without me fine and dandy,” Delia said. To her horror, she felt tears beginning to warm her eyelids. “Better than with me, in fact,” she continued firmly. “How are the kids, by the way?”

  “They’re bewildered; what would you expect?” Eliza said.

  “But are they doing all right otherwise?”

  “Do you care?” Eliza asked her.

  “Of course I care!”

  Eliza moved away. Delia thought she planned to relent and take a seat, but no, she went to gaze out the front window. “Sam, as you might imagine, is just dumbfounded,” she announced, with her back to Delia.

  “Yes, he must wish now he’d chosen Daughter One or Two instead,” Delia said.

  Eliza wheeled around. She said, “Delia, what is the matter with you? Have you totally lost your senses? Here’s this wonderful, model husband roaming the house like a zombie, and your children not knowing what to think, and the neighbors all atwitter, and the TV people and newspapers spreading our names across the state of Maryland—”

  “It’s been on TV?”

  “Every station in Baltimore! Big color photograph flashing on the screen: ‘Have you seen this woman?’”

  “What photo did they use?” Delia asked.

  “The one from Linda’s wedding.”

  “That was years ago!”

  “Well, most other times you were the one snapping the picture. We didn’t have much to choose from.”

  “But that awful bridesmaid gown! With the shoulders that looked like the hanger was still inside!”

  “Delia,” Eliza said, “ever since Mr. Sudler phoned, I’ve been trying to figure out what could have made you walk away from us like that. Till now I’d thought you’d had it so easy. Baby of the family. Cute as a button. Miss Popularity in high school. Daddy’s pet. It’s true you lacked a mother, but you never seemed to notice. Well, you were only four years old when she died, and anyhow she was bedridden all your life. But now I think four years old was plenty old! Of course you noticed! You’d spent those afternoons playing in her room, for God’s sake!”

  “I don’t remember,” Delia said.

  “Oh, you must. You and she had those paper dolls. You kept them in a shoe box on the floor of her closet, and every afternoon—”

  “I don’t remember anything about it!” Delia said. “Why do you keep insisting? I have no memory of her at all!”

  “And then being Daddy’s pet was kind of a mixed blessing, I guess. When he discouraged you from applying to college, took it for granted you’d come to work in the office … well, I wouldn’t blame you for resenting that.”

  “I didn’t resent it!”

  “And then his dying: of course his dying would hit you harder than—”

  “I don’t see why in the world you’re bringing all this up!” Delia said.

  “Just hear me out, please. Dee, you know I believe that human beings live many lives.”

  Ordinarily, Delia would have groaned. Now, though, she was glad to see the talk veering in a new direction.

  “Each life is a kind of assignment, I believe,” Eliza told her. “You’re given this one assigned slot each time you come to earth, this little square of experience to work through. So even if your life has been troubled, I believe it’s what you’re meant to deal with on this particular go-round.”

  “How do you know my assignment doesn’t include Bay Borough?” Delia asked her.

  A ripple of uncertainty crossed Eliza’s forehead.

  Delia said, “Eliza, um, I was wondering …”

  “Yes?” Eliza said eagerly.

  “Can you tell me if they brought the cat home from the beach?”

  A mistake. Something closed over behind Eliza’s eyes. “The cat!” she said. “Is that all you care about?”

  “Of course it’s not all I care about, but he was kind of skulking under furniture when I left, and I didn’t know if they’d remember to—”

  “They remembered,” Eliza said shortly. “What for, I can’t imagine. Durn creature is getting so old he snores even when he’s awake.”

  “Old?” Delia said.

  “They packed all your clothes and your casseroles too,” Eliza said. “Poor Susie had to pack your—Delia? Are you crying?”

  “No,” Delia said in a muffled voice.

  “Are you crying about the cat?”

  “No, I said!”

  Well, she knew he wasn’t a kitten anymore. (Such a merry kitten he’d been—a kitten with a sense of humor, slinking theatrically around the forbidden houseplants and then giving her a smirk.) But she had thought of him as still in his prime, and only now did she recall how he had started pausing lately as if to assemble himself before attempting the smallest leap. How she had swatted him off the counter once this spring and he had fallen clumsily, scrabbling with his claws, landing in an embarrassed heap and then hastily licking one haunch as if he had intended to take that pose all along.

  She widened her eyes to keep the tears from spilling over.

  “Delia,” Eliza said, “is there something you’re not telling me? Does this have something to do with that … man back home?”

  Delia didn’t bother acting puzzled. She said, “No, it’s not about him.” Then she went to the head of the bed, causing Eliza to take a step back. She reached under her pillow for the toilet paper and blew her nose. “I must be going crazy,” she said.

  “No, no! You’re not crazy! Just a little, oh, tired, maybe. Just a little run-down. You know what I think?” Eliza asked. “I think it took more out of you than any of us realized, tending Daddy’s last illness. You’re probably anemic too! What you need is plain old physical rest. A vacation on your own. Yes, this wasn’t such a bad idea, comin
g to Bay Borough! Few more days, couple of weeks, and you’ll be home again, a new woman.”

  “Maybe so,” Delia said unsteadily.

  “And that’s what I’m going to tell the police. ‘She just went back to our people’s place for some R and R,’ I’ll say. Because I do have to inform them, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’ll have to tell Sam.”

  “Yes.”

  “And then I expect he’ll want to come talk things over.”

  Delia pressed the toilet paper to each eye.

  “I’m not very good in these situations,” Eliza said. She lifted one hand from her purse and placed it on Delia’s shoulder.

  “You’re fine,” Delia told her. “It’s not your fault.”

  She felt saddened, all at once, by the fact that Eliza was wearing lipstick. (A sugary pink, lurid against her murky skin.) Eliza never bothered with makeup, as a rule. She must have felt the need to armor herself for this visit.

  “I’ll have Sam bring some of your clothes with him, shall I?” she was asking.

  “No, thanks.”

  “A dress or two?”

  “Nothing.”

  Eliza dropped her hand.

  They left the room, Eliza walking ahead, and started down the stairs. Delia said, “So how’s your gardening?” in a forced and sprightly tone.

  “Oh …,” Eliza said. She arrived in the downstairs hall. “You’ll need money,” she told Delia.

  “No, I won’t.”

  “If I’d realized you weren’t coming back with me … I don’t have very much on me, but you’re welcome to what there is.”

  “Honest, I don’t want it,” Delia said. “I’m making this huge, enormous salary at the lawyer’s; I couldn’t believe how much when he told me.” She ushered Eliza out the door. “And you know I took the vacation cash. Five hundred dollars. I feel bad enough about that.”

  “Oh, we managed all right,” Eliza said, eyeing a fibrous area in one porch floorboard.

  Delia could have walked her to her car, or at least as far as the office, but that would have meant prolonging their parting. She had left her handbag upstairs, therefore, and she stood on the porch with her arms folded, in the attitude of someone about to go back indoors. “I’m sure you managed,” she told Eliza. “It’s not that. It’s just that I feel bad I didn’t start out with nothing. Start out … I don’t know. Even.”