A Sudden Change of Heart (25 page)

25
     

L
aura worked quietly at her desk in the solarium at Rhondda Fach. She was perusing letters and catalogues about art for sale in England and Europe, as well as in the United States, and making copious notes on a yellow pad.

From time to time she glanced up and looked across at Claire, who was resting on the big overstuffed sofa and had fallen asleep. Laura stood up and walked across the room, wanting to check on Claire but moving softly so as not to awaken her.

It was a hot morning in the middle of July and brilliant sunlight streaked through the many windows. It highlighted Claire’s auburn wig, turning it into a fiery halo of curls around her narrow face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and in repose she looked better than she had in days. Underneath that wig there was a stubble of hair growing, spiky and still thin, but new hair nonetheless, and it was her natural red. Another good sign, at least according to Claire.

Being at the farm had worked wonders for her; she had seemed to acquire more energy, both mentally and physically, and Laura was suddenly hopeful once again. Perhaps her dearest friend would make it after all. Maybe she would be one of the lucky ones, like Alison’s sister, Diane.

Claire and Natasha had arrived three weeks earlier, in plenty of time for the Fourth of July picnic that Megan had traditionally given for years; and how they had enjoyed it.

Megan had wanted Rosa Lavillard
to
come for the Fourth of July picnic and to spend the weekend at Rhondda Fach. Laura had balked at this suggestion, explaining to her grandmother that it was too soon.

Laura knew that Claire wasn’t up to it yet, even though she had been settled in at the farm for over a week. “Not yet, Gran, let’s give her a chance to get on her feet, to acclimatize herself.” Megan had immediately agreed that Laura was right; and so she had come up to Connecticut alone.

Laura was relieved that Claire had finally made the decision to come back to New York to live. She had resigned from her job at the magazine in Paris and put her apartment on the market. Hercule was supervising the crating and shipping of her furniture and all of her other possessions. He was constantly in New York because of his decorating and design assignments, and he had accepted Laura’s invitation to come and stay at the farm whenever he wished. “I can’t wait to be with you all, with my darling Claire,” he had said to Laura only the other day, and she was now expecting him this coming weekend. Just like Laura, Hercule was endeavoring to be optimistic about Claire’s eventual recovery, and he was encouraged by Laura’s reports of the improvement in her.

Laura had told Claire she should have the furniture shipped to the farm, where it could be stored in one of the outbuildings; she had also offered her an old barn as a weekend home. “Convert it into a studio for Natasha and yourself,” Laura had said. Claire had leapt at the idea, and
in moments when she had the strength she was creating designs. “It’ll be a place of your own in the place you’ve always loved the best,” Laura had said encouragingly, praying that the highly aggressive chemotherapy was working. Claire had been thrilled at the idea of remodeling one of the red barns. She saw it as a project for the future.

Natasha had settled in comfortably and quickly, much to Laura’s relief, and Claire’s as well. She would be fifteen in a few weeks. Thankfully, she loved the farm and had adapted with ease to the country environment. Next week she would take the entrance exam at the Chapin School on East End Avenue. Laura was confident she would pass and be accepted at the private high school, considered to be one of the best in Manhattan.

Of course Laura knew deep inside that Claire’s health was precarious, and that she might not go into remission, that she could die. But there was the slim chance that the heavy doses of chemo were working. She clung to this hope; they all did.

Unexpectedly, Claire opened her eyes and stared at Laura. “I knew you were standing there, looking down at me.”

“Liar!” Laura exclaimed, laughing. “You didn’t know I was here. Not at all.”

“Oh, yes, I did, I can sniff your presence out even when I’m sleeping.”

Laura smiled and sat down on the low-slung Voltaire chair next to the sofa, pleased that Claire was revitalized after her nap and obviously in a bantering mood. “Men came and went in our lives, but we were always there for each other,” she said.

Claire grinned. “Bet your ass we were. We were
steadfast when it came to each other … I’ll always be there for you, Laura.”

“As I will for you, darling.”

“You’ve already proven that. And I know I couldn’t have lived through the last few months without you. You’ve been my rock, my strength, Laura. You and Natasha. She’s been so supportive, such a source of help and comfort to me.”

“She’s been incredible, actually. Now, what would you like to have for lunch?”

“I’m not really hungry,” Claire murmured, and pushed herself up to a sitting position on the sofa and settled against the many cushions.

“There must be something you fancy?”

“Strawberries and cream! I’d love that. And maybe a piece of watermelon for dessert.”

Laura smiled, shook her dark head, and sighed. “My darling Claire, you’re not going to build yourself up on a bit of fruit. But all right, it’s a deal, providing you’ll try and eat a little scrambled egg first.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, I will, I’d like a taste of scrambled eggs with a slice of bread and butter.”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll have to go to Balsamo’s for the fruit. Do you mind if I leave you alone for a while?”

“No, I don’t. Anyway, Natasha’s somewhere around, isn’t she?”

“She’s gone riding with Tom’s son. Lee has taken her up on the trails through the hills where we used to ride.”

Claire smiled. “Those trails are so beautiful. Anyway, I’m enjoying resting here, relaxing. Could you lower some of the shades and turn the air-conditioning up a bit, please, Laura? The sun’s making it very warm in here.”

“Of course,” Laura said, and then, bending over Claire, she kissed her cheek. After making the room cooler, she hurried out of the solarium, glancing at her watch as she did. It would take her a good half hour, maybe a bit longer, to drive to Balsamo’s, but the trip was worth it. They had the best produce in the area.

C
laire drifted, half dozing, and slowly she tumbled down into herself. Thoughts of the past intruded, memories flooded her mind. Mostly they were happy memories of her younger days, spent here with Laura and the Valiants. At one moment bad memories began to insinuate themselves, but she pushed them away. She wanted to recall only the good times. They filled her with joy … remembrances of her childhood and those growing-up years … spent here at Rhondda Fach … All the seasons of the year … She had loved them all …

Winter days of icy skies and crystal light. Snowflakes blowing in the wind. Icicles dripping from the trees. Cool sunlight on snowdrifts taller than a man. Stalwart horses carrying them up through the trails. Up into the hills high above the valley. The green swathe of spring and summer gone. The splashy red-gold of fall obliterated. A great spread of white and crystal far below. Stillness. A silent landscape.

The crunch of hooves on powdered snow. The bray of horses. Laura’s laughter tinkling on the air. Her own voice echoing back to her. Coo-ee! Coo-ee! Calling to the Harrison boys waiting at the top. Geoffrey. Hal. Tall in the saddle astride stallions gleaming dark in the sun. Boyish laughter. Fumbled hugs under the trees. Tender kisses. Shy looks and pounding hearts. Young love blooming under icy skies.

Sultry summer nights. Diamond stars. A sheltering sky like black velvet. Hal’s mouth on hers. His gentle hands touching, stroking, learning her. Hands insistent, greedy. Hot breath against her cheek. Strangled cries lodged in her throat…

“Mom, Mom, are you all right?” Natasha asked, her insistent voice tight with concern as she peered at Claire on the sofa.

Slowly Claire’s eyes opened, focused on her daughter, and on her worried expression. “I must have dozed off. I was dreaming. Or remembering. Or both.”

“You cried out,” Natasha explained. “I was studying over there at the desk. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m fine.” Claire smiled at her daughter. “I was back here when I was young, when I was your age, darling. Remembering things.”

“What things?” Natasha asked, sitting down in the chair, taking hold of her mother’s hand, stroking it.

“I guess I was remembering my first boyfriend, my first love.” Claire shook her head and smiled again. “So long ago.”

“What was his name?”

“Hal. Harold Harrison. He and his brother, Geoffrey, lived on the other side of the hills above the valley. They used to ride up to meet us at the top, in the woods there. Geoffrey was Laura’s boyfriend. We often rode on the trails where you’ve been this morning with Lee.”

“It’s so beautiful up there, Mom.
Awesome.
I know why you’ve always loved Rhondda Fach. I didn’t before … I guess I was too young to appreciate it, to understand. Now I love it too.”

“I’m glad you do, darling. It’s a special place. How’s your studying coming along? For the exam?”

“Okay. Laura’s been helping me. Do you want me to get you some apple juice?”

Claire shook her head. “I’ll wait until lunch.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, Natasha?”

“I want to ask you something … about Dad.”

“What about him?”

“He wants to come and see you, Mom.”

Claire frowned. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “How do you know that? Stupid question. I guess he’s spoken to you on the phone.”

Natasha nodded. “He’s worried about you, Mom. Very concerned. He asked me to call him back at the Centers in Atlanta. To tell him if you agree, and let him know when he can come.”

Claire was silent. “I have to think about it.”

“But he can visit us, can’t he, Mom?” Natasha asked, biting her lip. “He wants to so badly.” When Claire was silent, Natasha said, “And I want him to come, Mom. It’s important to me too.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like it … I’d like you to be friends. You and Dad. You will let him come, won’t you?”

“I suppose so, since you seem to wish it so badly. Let me work out a date with Laura. Maybe after your test next week? How does that sound?”

“It’s good, Mom.” Natasha’s young face brightened. She would call her father later to tell him her mother had agreed he could visit, but they had yet to settle on a date.
She knew he would be pleased. He was extremely troubled about her mother’s illness.

Claire said, “Laura’s gone to Balsamo’s.”

“I know. She left me a note. And then I ran into Fenice in the kitchen. She said I’d have to cook lunch, because Laura can’t even boil an egg properly. As if I didn’t know.”

Laughing, Claire said, “Poor Laura, she does get teased about her lack of culinary skills. But why can’t Fenice prepare the scrambled eggs?”

“She says she has to go marketing, but actually she did say later that she’d make the eggs if I want.”

“It’s up to you, Nattie.”

“Oh, I can do it, Mom, there’s nothing much to making a bunch of eggs in a pan.” There was a small silence before Natasha said in a low, tentative voice, “Do you think the chemotherapy has worked, Mom?”

“I do, my angel. I’m convinced of it; I’m feeling so much better. I want to go into New York next week, to do some shopping. I hanker after Bergdorf Goodman’s, it was always my favorite store when I lived here. And I’d like to go to Serendipity too, for a hamburger with French fries, and a banana split. With you and Laura. Grandma Megan says she wants to come too.”

Natasha smiled at her mother. “I love Grandma Megan. She’s …
awesome,
Mom.”

“She surely is, darling, and she always was. Later, I’m going to ask Laura to get out Megan’s photograph albums and clippings books. From the time Megan was a Broadway star. She was so famous, and totally gorgeous, Nattie. We’ll play some of her old records too. You’ll get a kick
out of them. Grandpa Owen used to say she had a bell in every tooth.”

Natasha grinned. “What a funny expression.”

“It’s very Welsh. And she did have the most sensational voice.”

“When I start going to school in New York in the fall, will you be living in the city with Laura as well?” Natasha now asked, pinning her eyes on her mother. “I want you to be there with us, Mama.”

“I will be, part of the time. I’ll be having chemo at Sloan-Kettering. But it’s very comfortable for me out here, and Laura thought I might prefer to spend as much time as possible at Rhondda Fach. You’d both come at weekends, to be with me. And Megan would come too.”

“But who’d look after you, Mom?”

“Fenice. She’s happy to live here full-time, as she used to when Megan came up all year round. In any case, her cottage is only on the other side of the meadow. Fenice’ll look after me very well.”

“I certainly will,” Fenice said, gliding into the solarium carrying a large tray. The tall, well-built woman had salt and pepper, faded red hair and angular features. Now in her early fifties, Fenice Walton had worked at Rhondda Fach since she was sixteen. She had always idolized Megan, and she loved Laura and Claire like a surrogate mother, had bossed them around for years. Prone to bohemian clothes that often resembled theatrical costumes, Fenice was wearing a colorful cotton skirt that fell almost to her ankles, a fancy white blouse with big puffy sleeves, and a huge starched white apron that was obviously Victorian. White ankle socks and red sneakers completed the outfit.