toward her from her sister’s place. The glass bowl shattered on the wall behind Elizabeth, but the sound of its crashing was inaudible over the shrieks and wails emanating from Sarah.
Her face contorted in rage, Sarah snatched all the silverware within her reach, and in a moment it was scattered across the room. One of the heavy silver knives shattered a pane in the French door and clattered to rest on the veranda outside. Her voice building,barati continued to howl as her arms moved wildly over the table, searching out other things to throw.
Rose sat as if frozen and stared at Sarah. Sarah had been so calm, and now— She began to rise as she saw Sarah’s fists clutch at the tablecloth. She tried to prepare herself for the destruction that was imminent if her daughter followed through on what she apparently intended to do.
And then, over the din of Sarah’s howling, she heard Jack’s voice shouting.
“For God’s sake!” he yelled. “Will you get her out of here?”
Rose’s eyes widened, but the impact of his words seemed to free her from her chair. Wordlessly she swept Sarah into her arms, somehow freeing the clutching fingers from the tablecloth, and carried her from the room. As she passed Jack she sensed more than saw him slump weakly in his chair.
The dining room was suddenly silent, and the two of them sat there, Jack avoiding words, Elizabeth with nothing to say. Then, visibly, Jack began to pull himself together.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, more to himself than to Elizabeth. “Every time she does something like that I get the most horrible feeling. I get the feeling that I made her nuts.” He began sobbing, but silently.
“And I guess I did,” he mumbled. Then he too left the room, and Elizabeth was suddenly alone.
She sat quite still for a time, as if she had neither heard what her father said nor noticed the chaos around her. When eventually she moved, it was to begin cleaning up the mess. She cleared off the table first, then began on the wall and floor. She moved slowly, carefully, as if her mind was far from what she was doing. When she finished, she surveyed the dining room.
“I was so sure that was Cecil,” she said, for no apparentreason. “But I guess it couldn’t have been.” She was silent, then spoke once more to the empty room. “I wish he’d come home.”
Then Elizabeth, too, left the dining room.
8
To an observer they would have seemed no different from any other family at breakfast Perhaps one child—the younger—was much quieter than the other, but such is the case in any family. Only a particularly careful observer would have noted a slight air of strain around them, as if they were avoiding something. As, indeed, they were.
Rose Conger was maintaining an almost grim good cheer, doing her best to prevent the silence that was normal for Sarah from becoming the norm for them all But she knew no one was paying any attention to her. She could see Jack, his face mostly hidden, trying desperately to concentrate on his morning paper. And she knew that Elizabeth was devoting more energy to getting food into Sarah than she was to listening to her mother.
“And, of course,” Rose chirped, “they have a son.” She waited for a reaction, but there was none. She said, a little more loudly, “A fourteen-year-old son.” She was gratified to note that she suddenly had her older daughter’s attention.
“Who does?” Elizabeth said, putting down the knife she had been using to slice Sarah’s sausages.
“You haven’t been listening. The new neighbors. If you hadn’t been so engrossed, you’d have heard me.”
Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” she said, with a grin that let it be known that she was apologizing more for the sake of form than for anythingelse. “Don’t tell me you actually sold the Barneses’ old place.” She made a face. “I hate that house. Who would want to live there?”
“It’s a family,” Rose said, smoothing the
Her face contorted in rage, Sarah snatched all the silverware within her reach, and in a moment it was scattered across the room. One of the heavy silver knives shattered a pane in the French door and clattered to rest on the veranda outside. Her voice building,barati continued to howl as her arms moved wildly over the table, searching out other things to throw.
Rose sat as if frozen and stared at Sarah. Sarah had been so calm, and now— She began to rise as she saw Sarah’s fists clutch at the tablecloth. She tried to prepare herself for the destruction that was imminent if her daughter followed through on what she apparently intended to do.
And then, over the din of Sarah’s howling, she heard Jack’s voice shouting.
“For God’s sake!” he yelled. “Will you get her out of here?”
Rose’s eyes widened, but the impact of his words seemed to free her from her chair. Wordlessly she swept Sarah into her arms, somehow freeing the clutching fingers from the tablecloth, and carried her from the room. As she passed Jack she sensed more than saw him slump weakly in his chair.
The dining room was suddenly silent, and the two of them sat there, Jack avoiding words, Elizabeth with nothing to say. Then, visibly, Jack began to pull himself together.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, more to himself than to Elizabeth. “Every time she does something like that I get the most horrible feeling. I get the feeling that I made her nuts.” He began sobbing, but silently.
“And I guess I did,” he mumbled. Then he too left the room, and Elizabeth was suddenly alone.
She sat quite still for a time, as if she had neither heard what her father said nor noticed the chaos around her. When eventually she moved, it was to begin cleaning up the mess. She cleared off the table first, then began on the wall and floor. She moved slowly, carefully, as if her mind was far from what she was doing. When she finished, she surveyed the dining room.
“I was so sure that was Cecil,” she said, for no apparentreason. “But I guess it couldn’t have been.” She was silent, then spoke once more to the empty room. “I wish he’d come home.”
Then Elizabeth, too, left the dining room.
8
To an observer they would have seemed no different from any other family at breakfast Perhaps one child—the younger—was much quieter than the other, but such is the case in any family. Only a particularly careful observer would have noted a slight air of strain around them, as if they were avoiding something. As, indeed, they were.
Rose Conger was maintaining an almost grim good cheer, doing her best to prevent the silence that was normal for Sarah from becoming the norm for them all But she knew no one was paying any attention to her. She could see Jack, his face mostly hidden, trying desperately to concentrate on his morning paper. And she knew that Elizabeth was devoting more energy to getting food into Sarah than she was to listening to her mother.
“And, of course,” Rose chirped, “they have a son.” She waited for a reaction, but there was none. She said, a little more loudly, “A fourteen-year-old son.” She was gratified to note that she suddenly had her older daughter’s attention.
“Who does?” Elizabeth said, putting down the knife she had been using to slice Sarah’s sausages.
“You haven’t been listening. The new neighbors. If you hadn’t been so engrossed, you’d have heard me.”
Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” she said, with a grin that let it be known that she was apologizing more for the sake of form than for anythingelse. “Don’t tell me you actually sold the Barneses’ old place.” She made a face. “I hate that house. Who would want to live there?”
“It’s a family,” Rose said, smoothing the
Similar Books
