in words and gestures,the other so spare and so restrained. They had come from different worlds, to a single place, where they had become sisters.
“Perhaps you go to Hollywood one day, and Boyd and I will come to see you.” They both laughed as they walked down the road from the Websters’ place, talking of their dreams. Hiroko wanted a pretty house one day, and lots of children. Crystal wanted to sing, and wanted to go to a place where people didn’t resent her. It was a common bond between Hiroko and Crystal. For different reasons, they were both outcasts.
Hiroko liked to get exercise and she didn’t like to go out alone, and Crystal always enjoyed walking with her. They would talk for hours sometimes, as Hiroko noticed the tiniest things as they walked along, the smallest flowers, the least plant, the most delicate butterfly, and then later she would sketch them. They shared a common passion for nature. But Crystal was also comfortable enough with her now to tease her.
“You just see all that stuff because you’re lower to the ground than I am, Hiroko.” Hiroko would giggle at her and they both wished they could go into town, but they knew they couldn’t be seen anywhere together. It would have created a storm almost beyond bearing. Boyd invited her to go into San Francisco with them, but she was afraid to disappear for that long, her mother would surely notice it, and her father might need her.
By Christmas, he was too weak to get out of bed, and Crystal didn’t visit the Websters for several weeks, and when she came in late January, her face told its own tale. Tad Wyatt was dying. She sat in Hiroko’s kitchen and cried, with the older girl’s arms around her shoulders. She felt as though her heart would break seeing him slip away day by day. Everyone at the ranch was crying all the time. Her grandmother, Olivia, Becky. And Jaredwas never there, he couldn’t stand to watch their father dying. Crystal would sit for long hours with him, encouraging him to eat, whispering softly as she put more blankets on him, and sometimes just sitting there as he slept, the tears rolling silently down her cheeks as she watched him. And it was Crystal he always wanted near him, Crystal he called for when he was delirious, Crystal he looked for when he opened his eyes again. Seldom his wife, and never Becky. They were foreign to him now, just as Crystal was to them. It was she who tended him lovingly, who even helped her mother bathe him. But the love she showed for him only made her mother resent her more. She thought the love they shared was unnatural, and if he hadn’t been so sick, she would have said it. Instead she barely spoke to Crystal anymore, and Crystal didn’t really care. All she cared about now was her father. Her passion for him even dimmed her memories of Spencer.
Becky was pregnant again, and Tom was attempting to run the ranch, although he was too drunk most of the time to do it. It broke Crystal’s heart whenever she saw him drive up to the main house. It took every ounce of control she had not to tell him what she thought of him, but for her father’s sake, Crystal remained silent. She didn’t want to upset him, and she wanted everything to stay the same, but by February she knew it wouldn’t.
She sat quietly by his bedside night and day, holding his hand, and never leaving him, except to bathe, or to eat something hastily in the kitchen. She was afraid that if she left him, he might die. She stopped going to school, she never even left the house, except for a few minutes to take a deep breath of air on the porch, or walk quickly to the river before it got dark. Tom followed her there once, and he stood leering at her, as she sat in a clearing, lost in thought, thinking of her father, and then of Spencer. Shehad never heard from him since he’d come to little Willie’s christening, but she hadn’t expected to. Boyd had had a letter from him at Christmas, he sounded happy in New York and he
“Perhaps you go to Hollywood one day, and Boyd and I will come to see you.” They both laughed as they walked down the road from the Websters’ place, talking of their dreams. Hiroko wanted a pretty house one day, and lots of children. Crystal wanted to sing, and wanted to go to a place where people didn’t resent her. It was a common bond between Hiroko and Crystal. For different reasons, they were both outcasts.
Hiroko liked to get exercise and she didn’t like to go out alone, and Crystal always enjoyed walking with her. They would talk for hours sometimes, as Hiroko noticed the tiniest things as they walked along, the smallest flowers, the least plant, the most delicate butterfly, and then later she would sketch them. They shared a common passion for nature. But Crystal was also comfortable enough with her now to tease her.
“You just see all that stuff because you’re lower to the ground than I am, Hiroko.” Hiroko would giggle at her and they both wished they could go into town, but they knew they couldn’t be seen anywhere together. It would have created a storm almost beyond bearing. Boyd invited her to go into San Francisco with them, but she was afraid to disappear for that long, her mother would surely notice it, and her father might need her.
By Christmas, he was too weak to get out of bed, and Crystal didn’t visit the Websters for several weeks, and when she came in late January, her face told its own tale. Tad Wyatt was dying. She sat in Hiroko’s kitchen and cried, with the older girl’s arms around her shoulders. She felt as though her heart would break seeing him slip away day by day. Everyone at the ranch was crying all the time. Her grandmother, Olivia, Becky. And Jaredwas never there, he couldn’t stand to watch their father dying. Crystal would sit for long hours with him, encouraging him to eat, whispering softly as she put more blankets on him, and sometimes just sitting there as he slept, the tears rolling silently down her cheeks as she watched him. And it was Crystal he always wanted near him, Crystal he called for when he was delirious, Crystal he looked for when he opened his eyes again. Seldom his wife, and never Becky. They were foreign to him now, just as Crystal was to them. It was she who tended him lovingly, who even helped her mother bathe him. But the love she showed for him only made her mother resent her more. She thought the love they shared was unnatural, and if he hadn’t been so sick, she would have said it. Instead she barely spoke to Crystal anymore, and Crystal didn’t really care. All she cared about now was her father. Her passion for him even dimmed her memories of Spencer.
Becky was pregnant again, and Tom was attempting to run the ranch, although he was too drunk most of the time to do it. It broke Crystal’s heart whenever she saw him drive up to the main house. It took every ounce of control she had not to tell him what she thought of him, but for her father’s sake, Crystal remained silent. She didn’t want to upset him, and she wanted everything to stay the same, but by February she knew it wouldn’t.
She sat quietly by his bedside night and day, holding his hand, and never leaving him, except to bathe, or to eat something hastily in the kitchen. She was afraid that if she left him, he might die. She stopped going to school, she never even left the house, except for a few minutes to take a deep breath of air on the porch, or walk quickly to the river before it got dark. Tom followed her there once, and he stood leering at her, as she sat in a clearing, lost in thought, thinking of her father, and then of Spencer. Shehad never heard from him since he’d come to little Willie’s christening, but she hadn’t expected to. Boyd had had a letter from him at Christmas, he sounded happy in New York and he
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