My One Hundred Adventures (12 page)

“Well, it's not like it still had flesh hanging off of it,” says Ned. “So anyhow, I think, if I show up with this, here at the local museum, why, they're just going to take it away from me. So I go back to the rooming house where I'm staying and I pack that bone in my knapsack and I get in my car and I head out for the prairies.”

“Why the prairies?” I ask.

“Because no one cares what you do on the prairies,” says Ned. Then my mother looks down. Hershel is suddenly asleep in the sand. She lifts him gently to put him to bed and Ned watches my mother walking out and the stories seem to leave with her.

“Well, time for more cupcakes,” says Ned, and brings the package over. He and Max have two more each and then Max burps and has to lie on his back in the sand. My mother returns and looks at Max and she and Ned laugh.

By the end of the evening, during which time Max and Maya wander off to bed, my mother and Ned have laughed so much they have tired themselves right out and sit on the porch step with their feet half buried in the cool sand. My mother is drawing small pictures with the big toe of her right foot and now and then sighing. She gets up to get her cardigan and then, seeing that I have not gone to bed like the others, invites me down on the steps. She pulls me closer and envelops me in the sweater with her. It is getting a little windy and the sand and salt blow over us but no one suggests moving inside. We just watch the sea turning night colors. Ned won't talk about the bone anymore. He says it's a story for when everyone is awake so we sit in silence for a long time without anyone feeling they have to say anything.

“What a nice place to watch the sun set,” says Ned finally.

“Well, I remember you saying that many years before,” says my mother dreamily.

It becomes dark out and suddenly I am too tired to sit up so I go to bed. I lie there looking through my lacy dotted swiss curtains, which are gray with age. They have always been in this room. I see my favorite star hanging in the right corner of my window. I pray for Mrs. Nasters over and over but not once for Mrs. Parks.

In the morning I get up and I see Ginny, her feet flying over the sand. I am so glad to see her. I'd hoped we could get together on Saturday.

“Ginny!” I say happily, and then remember that Ned is still sleeping on the couch and run outside to meet her so as not to wake him up.

“Jane!” she says. “Mrs. Parks is in the emergency room!”

Death

My Tenth Adventure

“O
h no, oh no,” I say, and then in horror realize how hard I prayed for Mrs. Nasters and how hard I did not pray for Mrs. Parks. To even things up. Now I am afraid to even think anything about anyone. Our prayers are so powerful. Our thoughts are so powerful. “What is wrong with her?”

“No one knows. She woke up in the middle of the night terribly ill and an ambulance came for her! Mrs. Nasters was visiting her. They were having a sleepover. She rode in the ambulance with Mrs. Parks. My mother went into the hospital to see if Mrs. Nasters wanted a lift home. She doesn't really know Mrs. Parks. Mrs. Parks was eating breakfast. She wants your mother to get her car and bring it to the hospital. She also wants some jam.”

“She wants jam?” I asked.

“Don't you think you should go and get your mother?”

I run into the house, where my mother is quietly making muffins for breakfast, and I say, “Come
quick.
Mrs. Parks is in the hospital. Mrs. Cavenaugh sent Ginny to tell you, and you are to stop and get Mrs. Parks's car. And bring some jam.”

“Everyone likes my jam,” says my mother contentedly, but whipping off her apron and grabbing her purse off the hook in the hall. Then she goes over to the couch, where Ned is still snoring away, and shakes his shoulder.

“Something has
happened,
” she says to him.

“Whah?” he says in sleeptones.

“Wake up, Ned. I need you to take the muffins out of the oven in fifteen minutes. I have to go to the hospital with Mrs. Parks's car and perhaps bring her home. I wonder if she'd like strawberry or raspberry jam? If you were in the hospital, Ginny, would you rather have strawberry or raspberry jam?”

“Raspberry,” says Ginny.

“Strawberry,” I say.

“Really?” says my mother. “But what about all those little seeds that get in your teeth? And I suppose she has dentures.”

“I'll drive you,” says Ned.

“No, you must stay with the muffins,” says my mother. “The muffins! The muffins!”

“Also Maya and Hershel and Max,” I say.

“Of course,” says Ned. He sits up and grabs his car keys off the coffee table by the couch and tosses them to my mother. My mother runs to the pantry and comes out carrying a jar of strawberry and a jar of raspberry jam and holds them up with a questioning look on her face.

“Raspberry,” says Ginny.

“Strawberry,” I say.

“Both,” says Ned.

“Of course, both,” says my mother, and we three run down the beach like lightning.

My mother takes Ned's car to Mrs. Parks's house. She needs to get inside to get Mrs. Parks's car keys. The door is locked. Mrs. Nasters must have locked it behind them when the ambulance came. My mother goes to the back door but that is locked too. Finally, after trying all the basement windows, she finds one unlatched. “This is really extremely careless of Mrs. Parks,” she says, and leaps into the darkness below.

She screams.

“Are you all right?” I yell down at her.

“Spiders,” she calls back, and I can hear her already running up the basement steps. A few seconds later she comes out with the keys and we speed on to Lincoln, where we pull into the parking lot and run to admissions, where we are told it is not yet visiting hours.

“But I was sent for. Anyway, it must be okay for Mrs. Parks to have visitors because Mrs. Nasters was in with her,” says my mother.

“Mrs. Nasters is in intensive care,” says the receptionist.

“I don't understand. Is Mrs. Parks worse?” says my mother.

“No, Mrs. Parks is fine. The doctors will release her any time now. But Mrs. Nasters had a hemorrhage shortly after she left the hospital and was brought back in by Mrs. Cavenaugh, who was driving her home. Mrs. Cavenaugh has gone on home now,” says the receptionist.

My mother shakes her head dumbly and then asks if she can go up to see Mrs. Nasters. Just as she is saying this, Nellie Phipps comes in. Mrs. Nasters has called for her. We are all somber.

The receptionist phones intensive care and then looks somber herself. “They say you can all go up,” she says, and her tone is kinder.

We go up and my mother speaks to the doctor. They can't remove Mrs. Nasters's tumor so they were expecting something like this. She is not doing very well. Suddenly it doesn't seem to matter who I pray for. It is all a mess.

We talk to Mrs. Nasters briefly. She doesn't seem to really notice us much. She asks Nellie to read to her from the Bible but when we leave, Nellie isn't reading. She has her two hands outstretched over her and she is lowering them to Mrs. Nasters's body.

“What in the world is she doing?” asks my mother as we glance back.

“What is she doing?” a nurse whispers to us. Several of them standing around are watching.

I know what Nellie is trying to do but I don't explain and there is no green light coming from her hands to make it evident. Eventually everyone shrugs and goes back to work and we leave to pick up Mrs. Parks, who is being sent home.

“They said there was nothing much wrong with me,” says Mrs. Parks when we get to her room. “That's what they said. I'm telling you, it's a conspiracy, and Natalie, Mrs. Nasters, agrees. Just look what happens, they give her a room and they send me home. She doesn't like the situation any better than I do.”

My mother sighs. “Mrs. Nasters is really quite ill,” she says. “She's in intensive care.”

“Oh, they put her in intensive care, did they?” asks Mrs. Parks, her lips pursing. “Well, that just makes me mad enough to spit. Did you bring me jam?”

We drive Mrs. Parks home and settle her in. Then Mrs. Merriweather comes over and my mother tells her about Mrs. Nasters.

“Oh heavens,” says Mrs. Merriweather. “Shall I make you some tea, Edna? To have with this nice jam that Felicity brought you?”

This is the first time it occurs to me that Mrs. Parks has a first name. That she had a husband at some time in the distant past. That she may have children somewhere, although I doubt it. Wouldn't they be here now? That she might have done something for a living. And been on committees. That there were trips she took and books she read and theater she went to and disappointments and romances and holiday turkeys. And now, apparently, she is going to start having sleepovers with Mrs. Nasters, her new friend. She is telling us about that now.

“We had it all planned,” says Mrs. Parks. “Nellie Phipps came to visit me. Awfully touchy-feely sort she's become. Touching me here. Touching me there. I never knew her to go around calling on her parishioners either. What's gotten into her?”

“I have no idea,” says my mother.

“Anyhow, she told me about Mrs. Nasters feeling a bit down in the dumps of late and I invited Natalie to come over and watch some television and keep an eye on me in case the thrombosis, well,
you know.
Then we got tired and I said, Well, I've three spare bedrooms. Why go home? Why not have a sleepover? And Natalie said that she'd be happy to stay and it was a good idea anyhow as we could keep an eye on each other—although it was clear to me there was nothing really very much wrong with
her.
We had Scrabble and we thought we might even order a pizza. It suddenly seemed like…fun,” said Mrs. Parks as if it had surprised her that she could have that anymore.

“Well,” says Mrs. Merriweather, “I'm sure as soon as Mrs. Nasters comes out of the hospital you can have your little sleepover. We'll get you some NIBS or cheese popcorn.”

“Don't patronize me, Marjorie,” says Mrs. Parks. “And make some tea. I've had a very nasty night.”

We leave on that note. Ginny and I talk about what we are going to do but when we get to the house who should we see but Ned and H.K. sitting on the porch together. Ginny says she has to go home for lunch and I don't know if this is true or if she is avoiding the strange men. She turns around and runs back over the sand.

“Oh! H.K.,” says my mother. She looks vaguely uncomfortable.

Neither of the men says anything.

“Well!” she says. “Lunch!”

My mother has not had time to pick any orach, so she sends me and I wade through the reedy shallows by the lagoon. The water is warm on my calves. A heron stands on one leg hunting. There are the hushed sounds of wings on currents of air and the gentle lapping of the water. As if the same energy has taken two forms. The sun does not so much beat down on me as heat the moist air into which I step. I hear sleepy sounds of life everywhere, frogs plopping back into shallows, the buzz of cicadas and flies and dragonflies. I imagine the busy nonstop buzzing day they have, and perhaps they continue all night this way. I have been on the earth twelve years but I don't know how long they sleep. It is funny to think they live next to me, busy busy, and I am so taken up with my own life most of the time, I am not conscious of theirs going on parallel to mine. And they are not conscious of me either or all the important things I think I must do every day.

I sit on a large, smooth rock, letting my calves and feet dry in the sun. I do not know how long I have been there when Maya comes running for me. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she yells. “Lunch is ready.”

I grab the little orach I have picked and run back to my mother who throws it into the salad and we all sit down to eat.

“I was sorry you were not able to go antiquing,” says H.K. to my mother. “I found quite an interesting pants press.”

“Did you, Henry?” says my mother. “I'm sorry as well but Jane was busy and I had no one to leave the children with.”

Ned has not looked up from his plate. Now he does. “If you want to go antiquing today, Felicity, I can stay with the kids.” He looks at her searchingly.

“That's very good of you, Nate,” says H.K.

Ned nods.

“Why don't we all go, Ned? The children too!” says my mother. “And Caroline!”

Ginny has just arrived back on the porch. She obviously did not think lunch would take so long. She is looking through the doorway at all of us, bug-eyed. I don't think she has such interesting turns of events in her house.

“Well, you know, Caroline has not been well lately,” says H.K.

“Caroline is Henry's sister,” my mother explains to Ned. “She keeps house for H.K.”

“I've never had a housekeeper,” says Ned. “Of course, I've never had a house.”

“My time is not my own since my latest book came out, Nate,” says H.K., ducking his head modestly.

“Henry's books do very well,” says my mother. “He's really very famous in Massachusetts.”

“And other places,” says Henry, clearing his throat.

“Yes, I didn't mean to imply that you were a locally known poet only. Like Cassandra Lark,” says my mother. “Just that you are
especially
known in Massachusetts. Henry teaches at Simmons.”

“Gee, that's swell, Harry,” says Ned. “Well, sure, we can all go. Of course, I was going to stay home and tell the children more about the bone.”

“Tell us about the bone! Tell us about the bone!” say Hershel and Max and Maya, jumping around Ned.

“No, children,” says Ned. “We
must
go antiquing.”

“No, tell us about the bone!”

“No, no, Harry isn't interested in Vikings and dinosaurs. Harry likes to decorate.”

“Well, of course, if you'd rather stay home and dig up bones with the children…,” says H.K.

“Children, go wash your hands. We're all going. I'll just get my purse,” says my mother, and we are off.

We split into two cars and drive up the highway to small towns. H.K. does not think it a good idea for us children to go into the antique stores even though Ginny and I are hardly what you would call children. So my mother and Ned and H.K. take turns with us outside the stores entertaining us in other ways.

Ned tells us more about the bone. About how he stayed in a rooming house and left it on the dresser and the maid threw it in the trash and he had to follow its path all the way to the dump and then go digging through the garbage for it with giant rats crawling all around him looking for bones of their own. Hershel and Max like that part especially.

When it is my mother's turn with us, she plays word games. When it is H.K.'s turn he sits silently and makes us sit silently too and says helpful things like “Children, try not to block the entrance. Children, try not to speak too loudly.”

Ned takes us into a candy store and when he finds horehound candy is amazed. Then he gets an idea for an article. He says that sometimes he sells small pieces to Canadian magazines and radio. He has the idea to bring Mrs. Parks some horehound candy and see if it sparks memories and write a piece about it. We all try the candy. “This is disgusting,” says Ned. We agree. But he thinks maybe people a long time ago liked different things.