chapter fifty-three.

Mary took one look at Elsie and knew there was no talking to her. Mary had no idea what was wrong. She considered the possibility that Elsie was so pleased that she was overcome, but dismissed it after a second look.

Mary herself was so bursting with things to say that she got up and b.u.mped across people's knees to get to the aisle away from Elsie. Of course, there were one or two little moments Rose could work on, but those could wait. What couldn't wait was seeing Rose, Rose still flushed and anxious, believing and not believing with every breath, wanting to hear that she was good from someone she could trust.

Jack was holding court in the hallway outside the greenroom. Mary would have slid by, but she saw Sally-she always made a point of being nice to Sally in front of Jack, the easiest way of reminding him to keep his hands to himself. When she held out her hand to Sally, Sally hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and said, "Wasn't Rose terrific! And I know how much she owes to you."

Mary's face grew hot with the pleasure of it. She took a breath and said, "Oh, she was born with that voice, it's a gift from G.o.d. But surely some of it must be from you, somewhere on your side of the family, though your sister has a tin ear. It's not from d.i.c.k, G.o.d knows." Mary heard herself taking off, as full-voiced as her father at a Christmas dinner after a drink or two-even the hint of a brogue he had retrieved from his boyhood. "Now, when it comes to the acting," Mary went on, "that's where you get a glimpse of Elsie, whether she's setting her cap for a man or pinning his ears back." And poor Sally had just wanted to say something nice in pa.s.sing, not get reminded of the graft in Rose's family tree. "And that's just what the part needed-that clear soprano voice plus a bit of mischief." If only Sally would say something, Mary would be on her way, but Sally stood there, a pretty portrait against the wall, not nodding, not even blinking. If this was what the poor dear was like when Jack climbed into bed, no wonder Jack had a roving eye. "So she's in there, is she?" Mary said, pointing to the greenroom door. "I'll just poke my head in. She gets so ... After she sang the 'Ave Maria' ... Were you there at Sylvia Teixeira's wedding? She was more undone afterward than she was before. I mean Rose, not Sylvia. So she needs someone calm." Mary laughed at herself and rolled her eyes. She unplanted her feet and tipped herself through the door, saying, "Well, musically rea.s.suring," to no one in particular.

There was hardly room to move, but everyone was moving. Mary backed away from a boy carrying a tray of pizza slices. The boy tenor. She said, "Great job."

He held the tray out to her. "Have some. You somebody's mom?" She shook her head, and he spun away. She fended off the cousin soprano who was avoiding the pizza tray. Mary said, "Good job."

The girl threw off a "Thanks," then took another look at Mary. "Sawtooth? I've seen you ... You're not Rose's mother, are you?"

"Just a friend."

"Sweet. She's over there." The girl slanted her eyes toward the far corner. "Our wunderkind."

Rose was sitting on a folding chair surrounded by all the Pierces. She'd already changed; she had her maid's uniform draped over her arm, the cap in one hand. A shame she hadn't something prettier than a sweatshirt and jeans. May took the costume and said, "You don't want this smashed around in some big machine, somebody giving it a lick and a promise with a heavy iron. All those pleats in the skirt. I'll put a little starch in the ap.r.o.n and the hat. No starch in the ribbons. Starch'll make them too heavy to fly out."

A large man moved past Mary and planted himself in front of Rose. The white-haired baritone father. "What did I tell you? Old but true-a shaky dress rehearsal makes for a good opening night. And you were absolutely alive." He took in d.i.c.k and May. "And these must be your proud parents ..."

Mary saw the man's elbows flap once-he was in the same state of prattle she'd been in with Sally. Rose said, "This is Mr. Callahan." Mary suspected he knew he'd got something wrong-he looked a little flummoxed. She was about to join in to distract everyone, but they were all dazzled by a camera flash. It was the cousin soprano. She snapped another picture and whirled away without a word. Rose stood up. "And this is my father, d.i.c.k Pierce. His wife, May. And these are my brothers, Charlie and Tom." Rose saw Mary and said, "And behind you is Mary Scanlon. She and I sang at Miss Perry's funeral together."

Mr. Callahan swung around eagerly. "I've heard it was glorious. Of course, a sad occasion. I didn't mean ... I didn't know Miss Perry, I know of her."

Mary got a grip on his shoulder to settle him. She said, "As soon as I heard your voice tonight I knew we were in good hands." She turned him round, gave him a good, sensible pat, and looked at May to see how she was taking all this backstage blather. Mary said, "Reminds me of Sat.u.r.day night at my old place." But May was staring at Rose with the same look as when she'd got down on the floor to give baby Rose a teddy bear.

And Rose? Although it had pleased Mary to see Rose handle a small awkwardness so smoothly, it also pained her to see Rose so perfectly self-possessed. She should be running around the room with the other kids, enjoying the last bit of buzz. The only one of the cast who had a word for her was this middle-aged baritone. Though, fair's fair, he knew what he was up to onstage, and he had the right word for Rose.

Charlie excused himself, saying he had to get up early. Tom c.o.c.ked his head, about to make one of his remarks. Charlie shook his head once to shut him up. Rose followed Charlie for a few steps. Mary heard her say softly, "Thanks for coming. And thank Deirdre." Another trip wire Rose stepped over neatly. On her way back to her chair Rose said to Mary, "Where's Mom?"

Mary said, "She probably got stuck in the hall with Jack. Let's go see." She took Rose by the shoulders. Rose was stiff as a board, her eyes heavy. Mary said, "Come with me for a minute. Is there another door out of this madhouse? We'll just step outside for a breath of air."

They walked single file behind the stage along a narrow corridor made narrower by a cl.u.s.ter of ropes and pulleys, and down a staircase and out onto a loading dock. Mary said, "Aw, Rose, you should feel like a bottle of champagne."

"Yeah, right. Are you blind? Are you so dumb you can't see how f.u.c.ked up it all is? Everything. There's not one normal person in my whole life. Not one. Mom should have given me up for adoption."

Mary said, "Aw, Rose," and held her arms out.

Rose batted them aside. "Why didn't you tell her? You were her big pal back then. Never mind-you wanted a baby, too. Except when you finally saw how f.u.c.ked up it is, you moved out."

"And not a minute too soon." As quick as the words were out of her mouth, Mary wished them back. She closed her eyes. She'd been stung so fast in so many ways-her forearm still hurt where Rose had swatted it, and yes, she'd come to want Rose to be hers but not the way Rose said it, and yes, she'd moved out, she'd moved out for all their sakes, but try explaining that to Rose when she was spitting out every drop of poison in her. At the same time she saw Rose in the corner of the greenroom in the middle of the Pierces, as if posing for a family portrait-Rose putting on as stiff a face as she could-and all the while she must have been wondering what sort of a picture the other kids were seeing, what sort of curious or clever remarks she'd hear or overhear the next day. Mary had seen enough of this smart set as they lolled about on the porch at Sawtooth, making comments about someone's pathetic tennis game or someone's too-cute name for a boat. Maybe the whole school wasn't like the Sawtooth bunch, but from the sound of them they were the ones who were good at games, who could shrivel the son of the owner of the Dodge dealership in Wakefield or mock the dutiful straight A's of the Tran girls. And here came Rose, the new girl in the tenth grade-or whatever they called it here-and who was she? She was Jack Aldrich's niece; she was the music teacher's pet, and so she got a starring role-did she think that made her hot stuff? But there was the rest of the story. And now Mary saw what the cousin soprano was up to, taking a picture of the Pierce family and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter.

The light from the building reached as far as the edge of the woods, where it blurred into the night mist. Mary said, "I don't mean that, Rose. I miss you something terrible. I miss being in our house together. It was just that I thought I was only making things worse between you and your mother-the pair of you as fierce as you are."

"You know what Mom's doing now? She's going to work here. You could have talked her out of that. If Uncle Jack wanted to help he should have helped some other way. And he is so full of s.h.i.t. He thinks this place is like happy valley. In his dreams."

Mary said, "I'm not sure it would be different anywhere else, you coming in as a new girl and all. I went to parochial school, and the top girls there got after me. It's the girls, isn't it? But it can change as fast as the weather. It's just a shame you had your cast party spoiled. But that white-haired baritone got it right, you know. I knew you could sing, but you played the part as if you were her. And that little tenor-not a big voice but a sweet voice. You did right by him in your duets, you sang it piano so he could keep in the game but a piano that has some sauce in it. And your quartet! You were flying there, Rose, just opened up and soared. It's a nice piece of music, that, and the timing's tricky. All of you, your sweet boy tenor, and the baritone ..." Mary touched her shoulder. "So, Rose, darling, you've had your say out here, and now it's time to go back in-never mind the jealous ones, but have a word with the ones who helped. There's the musicians in the band. They're not schoolboys, so you thank them. I'll be right with you."

Rose had listened with her head down but at the last looked up. "Okay. But you won't talk too much, right? I mean, it's nice what you just said, but let them-"

"Don't worry, I'll be-"

"-finish a sentence."

The greenroom was still a swirl. The actors had taken off their costumes and makeup but weren't letting go of a party. May and d.i.c.k got up when they saw Rose. May said, "Time for us to get home. I'll have this costume done by the afternoon. I can drop it by your house."

Rose said she'd walk them out to the parking lot. Mary was about to hold her back but then thought that since the band wasn't in the greenroom, they might be putting their instruments in their cars.

Just as they got to d.i.c.k's pickup Elsie swooped down and took Rose's arm. She said, "I have something to say to you." She led Rose off, three cars away. Mary didn't like Elsie's look and went after them.

Elsie, still holding Rose's arm, hissed at her, "How could you? How could you do that to her? And to d.i.c.k?"

"Mom! What are you talking about? What?"

"That accent you put on. That swamp-Yankee accent. You made fun of them. It's an insult."

Rose was silent. Mary said, "Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Elsie. It's a comedy. She could have done Irish. And I wouldn't-"

Elsie said, "You stay out of this."

"Is that all you have to say?" Rose said. "That's it?"

"Yes," Elsie said. "Except maybe this playacting, maybe this whole school, is a big mistake."

"Come with me," Rose said. "Come right now. We'll see if you've gone crazy." She pulled on Elsie's arm. Elsie pulled it free. Rose marched to d.i.c.k's truck, went up to the pa.s.senger window. May rolled it down. Elsie came up behind Rose. Rose said, "May, tell me honestly-what did you think?"

"Of your play? It's good. I told you it's good, and I think you were the best one. You sing even better than you did at Sylvia Teixeira's wedding. Of course, this time I could understand the words."

"So when I changed into the maid's costume-that was okay?"

"When that boy chased you around the bed? You were funny. Reminded me of Tom. I told him so just before he left. Tom up to his pranks. I liked when you were being the nice young lady, but I liked it when you cut loose on that boy and didn't let him get too fresh. And not a bad word in the whole play, not like some movies."

Mary couldn't keep out of it. She said, "d.i.c.k? What about you? Rose remind you of anybody?"

"It was Rose on her own up there singing, but I suppose I got to give you some credit, and not just for the singing. She reminded me of you when you were behind the bar in your old place. What do you say, Rose? You see Mary over in the Sawtooth kitchen. She still take the paint off anyone gets out of line?"

Rose laughed. Mary hadn't ever heard d.i.c.k and May so talkative. They'd looked grim in the greenroom, but now that they were out in the fresh air on their way home, the play was bubbling up in them. d.i.c.k started the motor. May said, "I'll bring the dress and hat over tomorrow lunchtime, if that's all right with you, Elsie."

Whatever Elsie said was lost as the truck moved and a bait barrel rattled against the side of the bed. Mary, Rose, and Elsie watched the truck find a place in the line of cars headed out of the parking lot.

Mary said, "Rose, I think that's the clarinetist over there. In that station wagon. And the guy next to him-he's putting his ba.s.s fiddle in the back."

Rose wasn't through with Elsie. "I didn't expect you to like the play. I mean, you're practically tone-deaf. But you're out to get me. You're as much out to get me as the nastiest girl in school. At least she's going to graduate."

Mary said, "Rose-"

"You stay out of this," Elsie said.

"Oh, right," Rose said. "Pick on Mary just because you're wrong."

"I'm not so sure I am wrong. Maybe d.i.c.k and May were just being nice. They let you get away with anything over there, and it's gone to your head-along with this playacting."

"My head? You're the one who took Deirdre O'Malley in, and how dumb was that? You're the one who said you didn't want Uncle Jack to pull strings-you think you'd get a job here if it wasn't for him? And now you try to think of some way to f.u.c.k up the one thing I can do-not that you'd know anything about it-and guess what? You're wrong again. You think they're ashamed of how they talk? Why should they be? They live on a creek that's named for their family. They used to own Sawtooth Point. You think Johnny Bienvenue is ashamed of how he talks? Or Eddie Wormsley? You're the only one who cares. Well, you and Uncle Jack."

"Then how come you talked like them when you were being the maid? The one who makes the beds and cleans the toilets."

"That was aeons ago. I know you didn't get the music, but you might have noticed the costumes. Like 1920."

"And don't try to lump me in with Jack."

"What toilets? No toilets. Who went and got Jack to fork over a membership card to Sawtooth?"

"That's yours."

"Then how come it says 'Family membership'? You're the fancy tennis player. You and Phoebe Fitzgerald. I only go there to see Mary."

"That's enough," Mary said.

Elsie said again, "I told you to stay out of it."

"I'm not talking to you," Mary said. "I'm telling Rose she's screeching her voice. But the pair of you ought to shut the h.e.l.l up." They both turned toward Mary. She said, "I've got half a mind to bang your heads together." They both opened their mouths. "By Christ, you say another word and I'll do it." As fast as she'd got angry, she felt a great sob coming on. She took a breath, and it came out a growl that scratched her throat. "Now, go home. The two of you. Just go on home."

Rose took two steps away and said, "I'm staying here. If I can't find a spare bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

Elsie set her jaw and marched off toward the woods.

Mary got in her pickup. She put the key in the ignition but didn't turn it. She laid her forehead on the top of the steering wheel, drained.

chapter fifty-four.

Elsie woke up late after a bad night's sleep. She felt too tired to go work on Miss Perry's garden, too hungover with spent anger to pa.s.s a Sat.u.r.day morning alone. She certainly wasn't going to call Mary. She got out of bed, pulled the comforter up sloppily, felt one of her lurches for d.i.c.k in her bed-funny how she could see him and feel neutral, edgy but neutral, but when she was alone be stung by wanting him. That bit of wondering swerved her back to bleakness. She put the teakettle on and said, "f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k."

She got Charlie's new listing from information, hoped she'd get Deirdre, almost hung up at the thought of Deirdre and Charlie in bed together, one of them reaching across the other to get the phone.

She got Deirdre, who said she was about to go for a bike ride, but if Elsie didn't mind waiting an hour she'd love to stop by. "So Rose must be feeling pretty great. Tell her from me she was terrific."

Did that mean Charlie hadn't been bothered by Rose's accent? Or had he just not said anything about it to Deirdre?

Elsie put on a Rolling Stones tape. And to h.e.l.l with Rose telling her she was tone-deaf. She could dance to it, she could sing along.

She stopped in mid-song. She'd forgotten that May was bringing Rose's maid costume. Elsie didn't want May b.u.mping into Deirdre. She called May and said she'd come pick it up. May said it was no trouble to bring it over. Elsie said, "Well, if it's no bother, could you drop it off at the school? That's where Rose is. If you don't see her, just go by the auditorium. Someone's bound to be there."

"That'll be fine. I know the way now."

Elsie hesitated. Did May have a misgiving after all? She took a breath and said, "You really liked the play? Parts of it seemed odd to me. Maybe I was nervous."

"We were all nervous for Rose. But then it seemed she was born to do that sort of thing. Tom and I are going again tonight."

"But not d.i.c.k?"

"d.i.c.k and Charlie wanted to, but they took Spartina out this morning. d.i.c.k got one of his feelings. Or could be he heard something from Captain Teixeira. He didn't say, but then he never does. Took his harpoon, so he has swordfish in mind."

Elsie managed to thank her for taking care of Rose's costume. She thought of d.i.c.k on Spartina, all his thoughts at sea. She thought of d.i.c.k in this house with her. She wouldn't kiss him by surprise this time, not like the time he was holding baby Rose. This time would have nothing to do with Rose, nothing to do with May. He'd be here and she wouldn't go near him at first, she'd move around the room, bring him a cup of coffee and put it down without touching him. When he looked at her, she'd look back and smooth her skirt, smooth her skirt over her hip bones and wait for him to stand up.

She washed her face, went down to the pond, pulled off her knee-length T-shirt, and waded into the cold water up to her shoulders.

She was back inside and dressed when she heard Deirdre outside the door. Deirdre was flushed, her curly hair matted from her bike helmet. She was wearing a red uni-suit very like the one Elsie had in her closet.

"I should get a mountain bike," Deirdre said. "Get off the main road. Route One is all traffic and guys slowing down and beeping."

"Some of the back roads are smooth enough for your road bike."

"You ride, right? Maybe you could show me. And maybe we could go canoeing. I hear you have an old canvas canoe. Or is that Rose's? I don't want to touch anything of hers or May'll have another fit. Of course, what she's really mad about is me and Charlie."

"You look like you could use some water."

"Oh, yeah," Deirdre said. She unzipped her uni-suit six inches and fanned herself. They went in and Deirdre drank and drank.

Elsie said, "But Charlie knows that you and Walt ... I mean ..."

"But if Walt tells things to Tom, Tom can't help repeating what he hears, especially if he thinks it's funny. May and Charlie don't think anything like that is funny. And they're not exactly at ease with the idea of a liberated woman. Charlie only had one girlfriend before me. And he still feels guilty, like he marked her somehow. I told him I wasn't ever in love with Walt, it was just a thing. Boy, was that a bad idea. Of course, I was probably in a catch-22. Bad if I was in love with Walt, just as bad if I wasn't. Maybe worse. I don't know. All I know is I have to be careful, and I don't like having to be careful. Charlie read a little bit of this sci-fi thing I've written, and some of it's pretty s.e.xy, and he brooded. It didn't take a mind reader. Had I done all that stuff? I was going to say it's all made up, but that would have left him uneasy in another way, so I said it was stuff the women talked about around the campfire when I was running Women in the Wilderness trips. Which is a tiny bit true. And he said he found it hard to believe that women go into detail, and I said some women do, more than you know. And he said, 'So you're going to tell some woman about us?' I said, 'I just listen.' Which made him laugh for the first time in a long while."

Deirdre lay on her back on the floor and pulled her knees to her chin. She said, "No, thanks. But do you have a banana? Or some cranberry juice? Something with pota.s.sium." She sat up, spread her legs, and lowered her chest between them. In a m.u.f.fled voice she said, "You probably had some of the same problems with d.i.c.k."

Elsie waited until Deirdre sat up. She said, "I'll get you some cranberry juice."

Deirdre said, "Oh, s.h.i.t. I'm sorry. None of my business. I wasn't fishing, I just thought you could maybe rea.s.sure me, like tell me that things just settle down by themselves." Deirdre lay on her back and put her hands over her eyes. "I should remember I get high after I exercise. And you're probably coming down after last night. That must have been something, your daughter up there ... The thing is, I'm worried about Charlie out on that boat. After Charlie took off this morning I needed a good hard ride and someone to talk to."

Elsie put the cranberry juice on the table by the window. Had she ever been like Deirdre? So at a boil about herself? She sat at the table and looked at Deirdre, who was doing some sort of breathing exercise. Had she ever told adventure stories about herself like Deirdre's white-water story? With some nature mysticism thrown in? Yes. Had she ever told stories about her s.e.x life? Yes-not part of her repertoire lately, but yes, she'd told Mary Scanlon about Johnny Bienvenue, and yes, in her red-dress days she'd said some things that counted as s.e.xual swaggering.

Deirdre got up and sat across from her. She said, "Oh, thanks," when she saw the cranberry juice, put one hand on her chest, and took a swallow. She leaned forward and looked Elsie in the face. "It's not just that we look alike."

"Oh?" Elsie leaned back in her chair. "I hadn't really ... And I'm a good bit older than you."

"Maybe chronologically. Your biological age is what counts. We both keep in shape. But the reason we look sort of alike is we're both free women. We're not slaves of the gla.s.s city."