Above The Thunder Part 30

"I'd like to talk to her," Anna said.

Marvin looked as surprised as she felt for saying it. "You would?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Also, I wanted to tell you that I'm moving to New York. My work is showing and selling well, and I want to be in the thick of it."

Anna nodded. "I'm happy for you."

"And to invite you to stay with me. For as long as you want, until you figure out what you want to do. I have a housesitting gig in a loft on the Upper West Side. Jack told me. About you selling the house. Is it true?"

Anna nodded. "It's sweet of you to invite me to stay with you."

"I'll make sure you have the number before I go."

They walked into Anna's room. "What do you want to watch?" She held up the DVDs.

"Anything. Whatever you want," he said.

Anna chose her new favorite, Full Metal Jacket.

Sunday morning, Anna was in the kitchen making breakfast when she heard the sound of luggage being carried down the stairs. A lot of it. She turned off the pan of eggs and went to see. Jack's things mingled with Stuart's, Greta's red suitcase, and a gym bag full of Jack's medication.

Jack walked down the stairs, looked tired and ill-the typical greenish cast his skin took on when he switched medications, though he'd been on the same medicine for six months. "Good morning," he said.

"What's all this?"

"Well, Stuart and I were up all night fighting." He walked into the sunroom.

Anna followed. "And he won," she said.

Jack nodded, his back to her as he uncased CDs. Joan Baez's "Suzanne" filled the room. He sat beside Anna on the wicker sofa, started to sing. Anna sang with him, the entire song, the words she didn't know she knew, waiting right there in her head.

When the song was over Jack said, "I'll come back on the weekends. I'll be back every Friday night."

"Only if you want to. I don't want you to worry about me. It's time for you and Stuart to make a life together."

Jack nodded. "Are you really selling this place?"

"Yeah."

"Are you coming back to Boston?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

Jack picked up the remote control, hit the repeat b.u.t.ton. "Once more," he said, as the song began anew. "You know, you saved my life."

"I did no such thing. You saved your own life."

"What would you say if I asked you to move in with us? With me and Stuart?"

Anna looked at him. "I'd say your lover would surely leave you for good this time and that you and I would be a pack of two. C'mon, Jack. Stuart's giving you a second chance. He won't give you a third. Carpe diem, you know, and all that."

"You will always be a part of my life."

"Of course. And I'm probably not going to go anywhere until I sell this place, which could take a while, or forever, who knows."

It was late afternoon by the time they all left. Anna walked them out to their cars. She and Greta hadn't really spoken since Sat.u.r.day.

"I'm sorry," Greta said.

"For what?" Anna asked.

Greta's eyes were teary. "I'm just sorry. I'll call you."

Anna said okay, and turned away before Greta could hug her. She got in Jack and Stuart's Jeep and rode with them to the end of the road. She kissed them both goodbye. Jack pulled her close and kissed her again, full on the mouth. "I love you, Anna," he said.

"Take very good care of each other," she said.

"I'll see you soon," Jack said, "probably at the end of the week."

"Whatever you two decide is good with me. I'll be here." She got out. "And I love you, too," she said.

Anna watched them until their car was out of sight, then walked back to the house. For the first time in over two years, she was alone. Marvin had taken an early flight out to New York without even saying goodbye to her, just a note saying he would call later in the week, along with his phone number.

A week pa.s.sed, each day much like the previous one. There was no one to insist that she leave her room by noon, n.o.body to vex her into irritation that, in retrospect, was far superior to this dispirited solitude. She filled her days with errands, a day or two at Dr. Naylor's to do blood work, and evening dog walks with Violet, which had become the point of light in her day.

One evening, the instant she stepped into the house, the electricity cut off. She navigated through the dark, found candles in the pantry, and went down to check the fuse boxes. Everything seemed to be okay. She called Violet to see if she had power.

"Nope. I'm just sitting here in the dark, twiddling my thumbs. Storm's coming."

Anna started to hang up but said, "Would you like to come over for a cup of tea?"

Violet said she would, and within a few minutes she was at Anna's door.

"It always seems darker when you're alone and the lights go off, doesn't it?" Violet asked.

Anna agreed. She stared at the fringe of blue flame on the burner, waited for the water to boil. "I have mint, lemongra.s.s, or," she tipped the can to the weak path of light, "jasmine flower."

"Jasmine flower, please," Violet said.

Anna spooned the tea into cups and set out m.u.f.fins with the last of the blueberries Anna had frozen last summer. That, Anna remembered, had been a s.h.i.+ning day, the two of them in the blue abundance, eating berries off the stems. Even the dog's teeth were purple by the end of the day. Flynn had asked, "Other than dogs, you know the only thing I like better than blueberries?"

"No, what?"

"Nothing. Blueberries are the best thing in the world. The more they stain you, the more you can speak their language."

Anna had looked at Flynn's lips and chin. "Well, I guess now we're both fluent. Him, too." She nodded at the dog.

"Isn't it great? You and me and Baby Jesus all fluent in Uly."

"In what?" Anna had asked.

"Uly. The universal language of yum."

Violet spoke now. "Have you heard from the boys recently?"

"Jack called me a few days ago. They're settling into their new home."

"Are they visiting this weekend?" Violet asked.

Anna shook her head. "Not this weekend. Maybe next."

"I hope I see them again. I always thought they made a lovely couple. I enjoyed them immensely." Violet moved the candle closer, peered down into her cup.

"Reading your tea leaves?" Anna joked. When Violet didn't answer, Anna pushed her own cup over. "Tell me," she said.

Violet fished for her gla.s.ses in one of her innumerable pockets. Tilted the cup this way and that. "You've been having a lot of bad dreams." She paused. "And what you are unable to embrace, now embraces you. Double what has been taken, with you now abides." She pushed the cup away, took off her gla.s.ses.

"That's it?" Anna asked.

"Certainly that's it. Did you expect I'd find the winning lottery numbers?"

"But what does it all mean?"

"Well, Anna, if you want my translation, I'd say this: when in deep water, become a diver." Violet looked away.

Anna felt a cold air around her and Violet, chills snaking up her spine. "Do you believe in ghosts, Violet?"

"Of course," she said. "Don't you?"

"Listen, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Anything," Violet said.

"Would you be willing to stay here tonight? I'm having a little trouble being here alone," Anna said.

"I'd be happy to stay here, dear. Especially if you let me run home and get my dogs. They get so frightened in storms."

"Oh, sure. They're always welcome," Anna said.

In the short time Violet was gone, Anna thought she might be having a heart attack; she was drenched in sweat, tight bands squeezing her chest, at her sides, as though she was standing between two boulders that were pus.h.i.+ng so hard her ribs felt like they were bowing in the center, about to snap. Her head was buzzing, full and thick, the ambient room sounds m.u.f.fled, near things distant: her dog right beside her, though somehow not within reach. He looked up at her with soft eyes; the reflected light in his irises as remote as moons.

"How?" she heard herself say. And in the very next instant the feeling was gone, and the sounds in the room were as they should be: Violet's boot-heavy tread, the click of dog nails on the floor, the thud of a closing door.

"It's us," Violet called, then walked into the kitchen. She stopped. "Is everything all right?" She looked around.

"I'm fine now," Anna said. She did feel calm. Normal, once again, but exhausted. "I'm about ready for bed. But make yourself at home. There's plenty of food if you're hungry."

"Thank you, Anna, but I believe we'll turn in, too. You don't mind if Luna and Haiku are in the bedroom, do you?" Violet asked, pointing to the elderly beagles.

Anna said she didn't, and wished Violet a good night.

Within minutes, Anna was asleep, dreaming that she was sitting in the last pew of a huge cathedral. The windows were floor-to-ceiling stained gla.s.s, and a brilliant light kaleidoscoped in. Jack and Stuart were exchanging wedding vows, though she couldn't hear a word from way back here. There was a rustling at her elbow. She turned and saw Flynn.

"Why do you keep calling me? What is it you think I can do?" Anna asked.

Wordlessly, Flynn took Anna's hand and then they were in a hospital, wandering through corridors so narrow and winding Anna had to dodge someone every few seconds.

You can walk right through the people, Flynn said.

They stopped at the nursery. Anna looked in and saw hundreds, thousands, of babies in ba.s.sinets. Not one of the infants was crying. No one attended to them.

There. I need to get in there. You need to help me, Flynn kept saying.

Anna looked over at her granddaughter, then back into the nursery. Wolf cubs, all of whom were watching Anna with their yellow eyes, had replaced the infants.

"Those are wolves," Anna said.

No, Flynn said, some of them are angels. And some are just like us.

SIXTEEN.

SOMETHING LIVING, SOMETHING LOVELY, SOMETHING BETTER.

They had a quiet ceremony at the Unitarian church in Boston, just a handful of friends on a midsummer afternoon, with a small reception afterward. Jack thought this was probably the first sign of encroaching dotage: a couple of years ago he and Stuart would have invited two hundred people instead of twenty. Anna was their attendant, beautiful in a pale yellow dress. That was a month ago, and Jack hadn't seen Anna since then, though he spoke to her on the phone nearly every day.

Contrary to her expectations, Anna sold the house almost immediately, for close to double what she thought she'd get. Yesterday when Jack talked to her, Anna sounded almost cheerful. She was spending her days going through decades of acc.u.mulation in the attic, the spare bedrooms. The new owners wanted to close as soon as possible.

"Then what?" Jack had said. "Where are you going?"

"Well, I'm still trying to decide."

"Why don't you let me and Stuart come up this weekend?" It had, in fact, been Stuart's idea that they go and help her.

"No. Thank you, but no. I need this distraction. It's perfectly mindless. One of these days, though, you'll have to come and look through what I'm leaving for you in storage. Beautiful antiques. Furniture. I'm leaving four of the beds for you. That's probably more than enough, but you can choose the ones you want. Also, the most beautiful baby cradle that belonged to my husband's great-grandmother. Wait till you see."