“Charlotte,” she whispered. “The lid. Close it?”
But I could only stare at the curl of Wedgwood blue velvet ribbon that clung over the edge of the bed like some lovely, poisonous snake.
Chapter 31
The Last Happy Afternoon
I don’t remember much about the drive home. At some point I arrived back at Bliss House, and Terrance opened the car door for me. It had turned bitterly cold for October, and I had foolishly left the house without putting on a coat over my burgundy wool suit, but I stood on the front terrace for several minutes, watching the sky.
(I mention Terrance. It may seem confusing that I hadn’t demanded that he leave. But what power did I have? In history, there have been men called “the king’s men.” Terrance was Press’s man, a reality of Bliss House. I couldn’t reveal what I’d learned about him without telling Press about Olivia’s presence. And I would not give him more ammunition against me. You may be relieved to know that Terrance resolves the problem of Terrance without my help.)
As I fled the hospital room, Holly called after me, and Jack—where had Jack come from?—caught my arm, trying to stop me, saying Holly was signaling that Rachel was waking up. My head felt wild and I was breathless, all because of a length of ribbon. Wedgwood blue velvet ribbon. So delicate and sweet, something one might stitch onto the edge of a baby boy’s smocked romper or coveralls.
But I recognized it as the same ribbon that Eva had been wearing when she first came to see me in the morning room. Where was that ribbon now, and why couldn’t I remember her having it?
Eva had loved ribbons and hair bows and frilly dresses in a way that I never had, though I confess I had loved to indulge her whims. Like her mother, Rachel, too, had often given Eva little presents: a new rabbit fur muff, pairs of lace-trimmed panties and socks, real fawn leather gloves, and dear little hats. I’d once teased Rachel, telling her she was trying to outfit Eva like she was Bonnie Blue Butler from Gone with the Wind. It had been little Bonnie Blue’s memorable death from a fall from a pony that had kept me from putting Eva on one, though Press had thought I was being silly.
My reaction to the ribbon—hurrying from Rachel’s room like a dazed criminal—must have seemed bizarre to everyone who saw me there. Fuel to the rumors that were already being whispered.
I was confused. Olivia had appeared to me in many different kinds of clothes, not just what she’d been wearing when she died. But hadn’t my visions of Eva been different? Eva had been so wet, always wearing the pink playsuit and ribbon and muddy sandals. Had Rachel brought the ribbon with her that evening and put it on Eva after she died, but before I’d been upstairs? And put shoes on her feet? No, it wasn’t possible.
Perhaps I’d simply forgotten that Eva had brought back the ribbon from Rachel’s house on another day. She wasn’t quite at the age when she might acquire objects or words whose provenance was unknown to me. Children do eventually become connected to the world in ways we are not. Those first threads come slowly, but then new ones come, faster and faster, until our children are no longer exclusively ours. I felt another bit of Eva slip away.
I didn’t yet know what the ribbon meant, but when I re-entered Bliss House, I was suddenly less troubled about it. Inside the preternaturally quiet hall, I felt my body relax, and I was finally warm. It would come to me.
I couldn’t help my children or myself by worrying or being afraid. Not of Press. Not of the house. The worst thing that could happen to a mother had happened to me, and I had survived. But Michael was still with me and would be happy in Bliss House. He might go away to school for a while, and to work. Then he would perhaps come back with a family of his own and we would all live together.
I looked up to the gallery and saw what I expected: the door to the yellow room, where J.C. had been sleeping, was open. I couldn’t be certain, but the house had a tangible emptiness that told me she was gone. There had been no cars or workmen’s trucks in sight. Everything was finished. It was a huge relief to me—not just the absence of J.C., but the absence of strangers in my home.
It was my home, now. Press might bring any fool into it that he cared to, but I would be here to keep it safe for Eva and ready for when it became Michael’s.
I looked into the kitchen, where Marlene was chopping vegetables for dinner.
“I’m going upstairs to rest for a while. Were there any calls?”
“No, Miss Charlotte. Shall I serve dinner at the usual time?”
“Six o’clock is fine. Are Shelley and Michael in the nursery?”
“She took him out to one of the farm ponds to see the geese. They’ve been making a terrible racket all day. I sent yesterday’s bread with them.”
“But it’s so cold.”
“They were bundled up.”