“This one is a bit ragged, and right here,” Vivien said, touching the spot on her own chin.
The man shook his head, his face registering neither disappointment nor relief.
As if on cue, they all stood. Vivien shook the man’s hand and wished him luck. Then she followed the woman out of the room and down the maze of corridors. Neither of them spoke. The only sound came from their heels tapping against the floor as they walked.
When they returned to the waiting room, the women still there looked up as they entered. Vivien avoided eye contact with any of them. Quickly, she gathered her trunk and coat, her hands trembling. She hurried out of there. From behind her came the woman’s voice, calling the next poor woman: “Dorothea Kane.”
Outside of the hospital at last, Vivien stood on the street. Passersby pushed past her. The Rocky Mountains rose beautifully in the distance. She willed her body to be still. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. The air here was so crisp. She let it fill her lungs and then she opened her eyes.
SIX
If any women are to be present and the interment is to be in the ground, some one should order the grave lined with boughs and green branches—to lessen the impression of bare earth.
—FROM Etiquette, BY EMILY POST, 1922
11
Arabella
CLAIRE, 1961
They left the hospital to rest for a bit. In the car, Claire told Peter someone had guessed taupe. “Can you believe that?” she muttered.
Peter laughed. “I can’t believe that you girls even had a contest about it.” He reached across the seat and touched her hair. “Silly,” he said.
Claire looked out the window at all the snow.
“Maybe we can take Kathy sledding,” she said.
“In your condition?”
“The baby’s not going to fall out or anything,” she teased.
“Still,” he said.
“Do you think there’s a sled somewhere?” Claire asked.
“Maybe. I bet Jimmy and Connie have a couple.”
“I suppose we could take Little Jimmy. Connie’s had Kathy all morning. It would only be fair.”
She could tell that Peter still wasn’t sold on the idea, but she didn’t care. She would take the kids by herself if he didn’t want to come. Claire could practically feel it, how the wind whipped at your cheeks as you went downhill. How your stomach almost hurt from the speed and the bumps, like a roller coaster in a way. Of course she would have to find some warm clothes, for herself and for Kathy. They’d left in such a hurry that Kathy only had her toggle coat and a hat. No snow pants or mittens.
“Maybe they have a snowsuit that Kathy can wear,” she said.
“I thought you were exhausted.”
“I am. But getting some fresh air would be nice.”
“And where exactly is this sledding going to take place?” Peter said.
“You tell me. Where did you go sledding when you were a boy?”
“Roger Williams Park, I guess.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Claire said.
Peter sighed his exasperated sigh.
“We’ll go if you want. But you have to be a spectator. Okay?”
It wasn’t okay, Claire thought. Pregnant women rode horses and swam and did all kinds of things. Why, Dot had gone skiing at twenty-eight weeks and Bill had seemed absolutely proud over it. She’s a tough one, he’d said, beaming.
But Claire said, “Whatever you want,” then pressed her forehead against the window.
She wanted to point out how the ice covering the trees and telephone wires glittered, giving everything an almost magical look. She wanted to say how pretty it was. But surely Peter would have something to say about that too, so she just kept staring out the window, watching Providence slide past her.
“Someone called for you,” Connie said as soon as Claire and Peter walked in the house.
It was as if she had been standing in that hall waiting for them, Claire thought.
“For me?” Claire said.
Peter was frowning.
“Who in the world—” Claire began, but Connie was unfolding a piece of lined yellow paper and getting ready to read from it.
“2:20 p.m.,” Connie said.
“You just missed your mystery caller,” Peter said.
“Dot called and said—”
“See?” Claire said to him. “It’s just Dot, that’s all.”
“She apologizes for bothering you, what with Peter’s mother and all, and she says it’s silly but she thought you would want to vote now for what color Jackie is going to wear tonight, to the ball.”
“Jesus,” Peter said under his breath.
“She says,” Connie continued, “winner gets a dinner party in her honor. Couples.”
“How fun!” Claire said.
Connie folded the paper again and handed it to Claire.
“She says she voted midnight blue,” Connie added.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Claire said. “Now I’ll have to come up with a different color.”
“I still say red,” Connie said, lighting a cigarette.