Vera paused, finally, and looked at me. As if she did not entirely agree.
"Can I see her letters?"
"They're in the attic, somewhere. I'll have to have one of my boys dig
them out. Now that Joey's gone I depend so on my boys. You can see the
letters next time you come. You must visit again, Freya, maybe for the Icelandic festival next summer? Please don't stay away so long again. It does
me so much good to see you. I believe your mother is looking down on us
right now from heaven, watching Vera and Freya drinking tea!"
She showed me more photographs. The one I remember most clearly is
of Mama and Birdie, dressed identically in saddle shoes, bobby socks, and
pleated skirts. Mama had a vague look to her even then, pleasant but blurry
around the edges. Birdie was all angles, staring directly into the camera and
at anyone who came along to gaze at her in the future.
"Your mother may have been no beauty like her sister," Vera commented,
"but she had a kindness that did not go unnoticed. Your mother was pure
goodness, Freya. She watched out for that horrid sister of hers all her life.
And then for Birdie to do such a terrible thing! I thought Anna was going to
have a heart attack when you disappeared, I truly did. Day after day passed
and we had no word of you. Just vanished into thin air! We were all in Gimli
for Islendingadagurinn when it happened, I was the Fjallleona, you know,
and I stayed with Anna the next few weeks while we searched and searched
for the two of you. Did you have any idea of the worry you caused us?"
I shook my head, maybe yes, maybe no. Vera went on.
"So many times Anna forgave Birdie. But kidnapping there's no other
word for it, really she could not forgive. She informed Birdie that she was
never to come near you again. It was a perfectly reasonable action, in my
book. Birdie could simply not be trusted. Too unstable, dangerous really.
Oh, there were some terrible phone calls! Birdie begging and pleading, demanding and threatening. It wasn't really about you. Though I suppose she
loved you as much as she was capable of loving anyone. No, she just hated
the idea of Anna having any power over her. But she got her revenge, in the
end, Birdie did."
"What do you mean?"
"By killing herself. What a selfish disgusting act. Your mother could
hardly live with herself after that. That's what she told me in a letter. She
blamed herself completely. Which is I'm sure exactly what Birdie intended.
Anna always made excuses for Birdie, blamed her behavior on mental illness. Honestly, Freya, Birdie was simply a case of bad character. I think
your grandfather spoiled her terribly. She was Olafur's favorite and could do
no wrong in the old man's eyes. And so she turned into an ill-mannered,
overly excitable, self-absorbed, moody woman who took whatever she could
from others and gave nothing in return. She was a deeply flawed human being. I hate to say this to you, Freya dear, but your aunt Birdie was a bad person, through and through."
"Yes," I agreed. "Birdie was a terrible person."
Vera looked stunned. She had not expected me to agree with her. But
defending Birdie would get me nowhere, not with Vera. So I forced myself
to say what I needed to get the information I wanted. I said that Birdie was
horrible, that she'd ruined our lives, and that recently I'd heard even more
terrible things about her, things I'd never known before.
"Like what?" Vera's interest was piqued.
"That Birdie had a child out of wedlock."
"Really? Well, I never heard such a thing. It wouldn't surprise me though.
Birdie had lovers, stole other women's boyfriends and husbands right out
from under them."
"But you never heard about her getting pregnant?"
"No. What makes you think she did?"
"I overheard some people talking. At Sigga's birthday party."
"Who on earth-"
"I don't know. I never saw them. But it led me to believe Birdie may have
had a child that was given up for adoption. My mother never said anything
to you?"
"Your mother told me everything, she would have told me something like
that. Never said a word. And really, Freya, I can't see why that should concern you now. Though it doesn't surprise me, not one bit, that Birdie continues to incite gossip even from the grave. I say let the poor woman rest in
peace. Her reputation was ruined enough in this life. Besides, I'm the last
person to ask about Birdie. After Anna left for the States, I made it a point
to see Birdie as little as possible. Birdie felt the same way about me-she
was terribly jealous of me, you know, and went to no effort to spare my feelings. There are other people who know much more about Birdie than I do."
"I've already asked Stefan. He said he'd never heard of a child. And
Sigga .. .
"You're right not to trouble Sigga with such a matter. I don't mean Sigga,
or Stefan either. I'm referring to your grandmother's friend Halldora."
"Halldora? But-she won't even let me mention Birdie's name in a conversation!"
"That may be true. But she was Birdie's nurse, after all."
"Her ... nurse?"
"All those times Birdie was at the Selkirk Asylum. Not her private nurse,
certainly. But Halldora was a nurse at Selkirk for many years. That's how
your grandmother and Halldora first met, long before they ended up together at the Betel retirement home. Halldora took an interest in Birdie as
soon as she arrived at Selkirk, because Halldora is a great fan of your grandfather Olafur's poetry. Reveres the man. So she kept a special eye on Birdie.
Sigga was very grateful to Halldora for that. And then imagine, years later,
the two of them neighbors at Betel. I'm sure Halldora is keeping a very special eye on your grandmother there."
"Oh, she surely is," I replied. "A very special eye indeed."
"But I don't think you'll find anything out from Halldora either. I feel
certain Birdie never had a child. In fact, I've always believed that's why
Anna let her spend so much time with you, even though she was clearly a bad influence. Anna had a big heart. I'm sure she felt that since her sister
had no child, it was only right for her to share you with Birdie during the
summers. Of course, I told her again and again it wasn't a good idea, but
she wouldn't listen. A lot of tragedy could have been avoided if your mother
had listened to me."
I didn't point out that if Birdie had had a child, and given it up for adoption, that was all the more reason for my mother to feel the need to share
me. After all, my mother knew what it meant to be childless for a woman
who wanted children very badly, that is. But had Birdie ever wanted children? One more question I might never find an answer to.
No, I was terribly sorry, but I couldn't stay for dinner. I had to drive back
to Gimli and return Stefan's car.
She hadn't upset me, had she, with all that talk about Birdie and my
mother?
Oh no, not at all. Whatever would make her think a thing like that?
The next morning, Halldora was waiting like a sentinel outside Sigga's door.
An attendant was giving Sigga her bath, Halldora explained. And while she
did, Halldora wanted to have a word with me.
And there it was, an opening I had not expected. That was fine, I
replied, because I wanted to have a word with her as well.
I did?
Yes I did.
Fine then.
Yes, fine.
I took the Blue Book from Sigga's shelf, and Halldora and I went down to
the library together. Sigga would meet us there after her bath and Halldora
would bring us coffee and we'd have another lovely visit, wouldn't we?
I nodded.
A peaceful visit, Halldora suggested. A calming visit. Because there's no
sense getting old people riled about the past, is there?
I nodded again.
Specifically, Halldora went on, fixing me with her huge brown eyes, it
would be best if I did not mention Birdie's name again. The subject of Birdie
was simply too upsetting for an old woman like Sigga.
"You're right about that, Halldora. Absolutely."
Halldora looked startled, then recovered. "Of course I'm right. I'm glad
we're finally seeing eye to eye."
I looked her in the eye. I said there was something I needed to ask her.
"Yes?"
"About Birdie."
"Don't start on that subject again!" She clutched at her chest, but I
didn't fall for it. I pressed on.
"Why didn't you tell me you were Birdie's nurse at Selkirk?"
"Who told you that?"
"Vera Gudmundsson."
"Oh that Vera. Such a busybody."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You never asked, dear."
I couldn't let her get away with that. "How would I have known to ask?"
"It's not something you needed to know. But yes, I was Birdie's nurse at
the Selkirk Asylum, as it was called in those days." She stopped and folded
her arms across her chest, and I was certain that would be the end of it. I
would get nothing else out of her. But no, she was just getting started.
"Many times Birdie was committed there. In fact, it was Vera's father, Dr.
Gudmundsson, who had Birdie committed the first time. She never forgave
him for that. I took the best possible care of Birdie whenever she stayed at
Selkirk-not because I liked her, no, not at all-but because she was the
daughter of our most accomplished poet. How that man's verses have taken
me through life's hard times! Imagine, the daughter of Olafur, Skald Nyja
Islands, committed to an insane asylum. That's how I met your grandmother. A saint she was, when it came to Birdie. Some families just abandoned their relatives at Selkirk, but not Sigga. Bringing Birdie books, her
typewriter, paper, whatever she asked for. Always took her back home again
too, despite all the trouble Birdie caused. She stood by Birdie, your grandmother did. I have a great admiration for your grandmother. And then imagine, Sigga and I meeting up again at Betel, years later! God was at work
there, I'm certain of that. But that Birdie was a terrible trial, wild in her
moods. She could turn on you in an instant. Paranoid, the doctors called it.
Everyone out to get her, including your dear grandmother! Imagine."
I could imagine all right.
"Manic depression, it was, terrible disease. Many ended up the way
Birdie did, killing themselves. There was no real treatment for it, not until
lithium was introduced in the early 1970s. That was a great advance. Many
of our patients did very well on it, the ones that took it regularly, that is."
"Was Birdie one of those?"
"Hardly! Getting Birdie to stay on medication was nearly impossible.
She claimed it made her a zombie, that lithium was a vampire poison that
sucked the life out of life itself. And robbed her creative powers. She
thought she was some kind of genius, your aunt did."
"She was a very talented poet-"
"Oh, I'm not denying that. But it's part of the disease, to have what's
called delusions of grandeur. Some patients thought they were kings, or
presidents. Things like that."
"What did Birdie think she was?"
"Who knew? One time she was admitted to the hospital raving about a
wolf that was persecuting her! And she spoke so fast in her mania, mixing
the English and Icelandic they always called me in when she got like that.
No one else could understand her. We worried she'd have a heart attack,
simply die from overexcitement. Some of them do, you know. Perish from
sheer exhaustion. Of course, others kill themselves outright. The way Birdie
did. Hung herself right in her own bedroom in your grandmother's house,
leaving poor Sigga to find her. What a shock."
"But Birdie died in her sleep. From an overdose. My mother told me."
"She was trying to protect you, I suppose. From the horror. No harm in
that. But it was hanging, all right, and I can tell you I've found a few like
that myself, and it is not a pretty sight."
The awful truth seemed to tighten itself around my neck. Hanging seemed
so ... barbaric. So self-punishing. Like a sentence Birdie had handed down
upon herself: Death by hanging. "Did she leave a note, or anything?"
"No, I never heard that. Sigga blamed herself, felt she should have kept
a closer eye on Birdie after she was released from Selkirk. But believe me,
it's nearly impossible to stop someone who's determined. The suicidal mind
is always hard at work, scheming and plotting. They see a window and think
leap. They see glass and think cut. No one's to blame. Everyone has their crosses to bear, life's disappointments, but we don't all up and kill ourselves
now, do we? I was afraid Sigga might not recover from the shock, but she's
a strong woman. Except now she's turned frail. You can see that, can't you?
Any mention of Birdie, and Sigga's mind just seems to ... go on the blink.
So please, Freya. Now that I've told you all of this, promise me you won't
mention Birdie in front of your grandmother again."
So that was why she was telling me so much. It was not out of the goodness of her heart. No, she wanted something in return. "I can promise that,"
I said. "If you can tell me one more thing."
Halldora stared at me.
"Did Birdie ever have a child?"
"A child? Now what in heaven's name gave you that idea?"
"I heard someone say something. And Sigga's dream, about the lambs-"
"Dreams!" Halldora scoffed. "You're as bad as your grandmother."
"Well, did she?"
Halldora didn't answer. I stood up. "I just need to find out, for certain.
But I guess you know nothing about it. And the only person left alive who
might know is Sigga." I stopped and let that sink in.
"All right," Halldora conceded. "If you must know. Yes, Birdie had a
child. While she was in Selkirk. Are you happy now?"
Oh I was. But I kept my cool. I needed to find out as much as possible
before Halldora closed her mouth for good.
"What year was that?" I asked, casually.
"Oh, I don't know that I remember exactly."
"Was it after one of her trips to Iceland?"
"Yes, actually. I believe it was."