Chapter Twenty-Three
Haven Point, Maine
JULIA
The girls had meant to learn the constellations, but they’d been so busy, and now they were almost out of time.
They decided they would each pick a favorite star and name it.
(Lucy’s was in the southern sky. She called it Bertram.) Afterward, they lay on their backs, gazing up at the vast night sky.
“I want the world to be better,” Lucy said, thinking about their fathers and war and suffering. “Right now the world seems awfully big, though, and I feel like I’m just one little person on a tiny island.”
“Seems to me things would be much better if people paid attention to their tiny islands first,” Audrey said. She was thinking about fathers and wars and suffering, too.
FROM LIBERTY ISLAND, BY MISS CRANE
Julia made the trip in a day and arrived on Haven Point so late, Mother was the only one up.
She greeted Julia with a hug and said all the proper, civil things, but she seemed distracted, and Julia felt a twinge of disappointment.
She had hoped to make a fresh start with her mother, and that during this visit, she would disabuse herself of her false impressions.
We’re both exhausted, she told herself. We’ll have a proper greeting in the morning.
Not long after dawn, Julia was awakened by the sound of voices downstairs. She pushed herself up on one elbow and reflexively looked to the bed next to her, prepared to exchange a What is happening? glance with Louisa. But she was not there, of course.
She could make out no words, just William’s angry staccato tones, alternating with Pauline’s higher-pitched pleading.
It sounded as if Pauline was crying. When the front door slammed, Julia threw off her covers, quietly opened her bedroom door, and crept to the staircase landing, where a window looked out on the front of the house.
The causeway had finally been built, and William’s motorcar was in the drive with the passenger door open. Jaw set, face red with fury, William led Pauline to the car, his hand gripping her upper arm. He shut her door, stomped around to the driver’s side, started the engine, and they were off.
Julia dressed quietly, thinking she was the only one awake.
As she descended the stairs, however, she saw Mother in the living room, staring at the empty fireplace, a stricken look on her face.
A stair creaked, and Mother hastily rearranged her expression into something like a smile, then turned to her.
“Good morning, Julia. Did you sleep well?” Evidently she was prepared to act as if nothing had happened.
Julia stopped before reaching the bottom step.
“Mother, please. I saw that scene out the window.” In coming to Haven Point, Julia had thought she was pulling herself from the edge of the abyss. Now she felt like she was staring right into it.
Mother let out a weary breath, closed her eyes, then opened them again and stared into the middle distance.
She was obviously not going to take Julia into her confidence.
But while harsh thoughts arranged themselves into words, Julia held them back for once.
She still was not sure about the extent to which she had misjudged her mother, or in exactly what ways, but she knew she had been unfair.
This time, at least, she would gather the facts first, and as Mother would not be forthcoming, she would have to look elsewhere.
“I’m going to Anna’s,” Julia said, and walked out the door.
An hour later, Julia sat on Anna’s sofa, staring out the window, processing what her aunt had just told her.
Anna had welcomed her warmly, as she always did, and not asked what Julia was doing at her house at such an ungodly hour.
Fortunately, they were alone. Julia’s uncle Harley was away somewhere, and their two boys had jobs in Boston for the summer.
(Though they were hardly “boys” now. Julia’s Lockwood cousins were both strapping college men.)
Anna went to the kitchen to get them both coffee, and when she returned, Julia asked the question that so pressed on her.
“Anna, what is going on with William and Pauline?”
Anna hesitated, but she must have seen something in Julia’s eyes—a need, perhaps, or maybe even just a simple willingness to listen with an open mind—because she decided to give her an honest answer.
What Anna shared with Julia did not excuse William’s behavior, but it did help explain it. Pauline, it seemed, had developed a very severe problem with alcohol, and the repercussions had been devastating.
Julia was horrified by the stories Anna told.
When Daniel was three years old, he pulled a hot iron onto himself while his mother was passed out drunk on the couch.
On another occasion, Pauline got horribly drunk at a party, and when William tried to gently steer her out, she lashed out at him in front of everyone.
When William stopped keeping liquor in the house, Pauline began sneaking out to find it.
One night, he hunted her down in a speakeasy and had to practically carry her home.
Just as he was helping her up the stairs, Oliver came out of his room, and was terrified by the spectacle of his mother, stumbling and slurring nonsensically.
Over the past few years, Pauline had been to several sanitariums. A period of temperance would follow, but it never lasted long.
Now Julia surveyed her memories, trying to fit them to this new information.
“What was happening two summers ago?” she asked, recalling her last visit to Haven Point, when William treated Pauline so harshly.
“She was fresh out of another sanitarium,” Anna said.
“Your uncle and I were abroad with the boys that summer, as you know, but if my memory of events is correct, she had just fallen off the wagon again. His harshness was likely a fruitless attempt to shame her back to sobriety. She was back in another institution before the end of summer.”
“She seemed so well when I saw her this spring.”
“She had a nice long stretch.” Anna sighed. “While we cannot know for sure what led to the scene this morning, I think we can safely guess. It’s terribly sad.”
“I can’t imagine William’s anger helps, though,” Julia said.
“I am sure it doesn’t. You might find it hard to believe, but he was very tender and encouraging at first when Pauline would have a period of temperance.
I confess it even surprised me. I’m not sure I knew before how much he truly loved Pauline.
I suspect some of his anger is disappointment, a feeling that the woman he loved has left him. ”
“Why did no one tell me?”
“William did not want you to know. He did not think you would respond well.” Anna looked apologetic, but Julia was not angry. These secrets were not ideal, but she knew she had not exactly earned anyone’s trust in recent years.
“I cannot imagine your mother is pleased with William’s behavior, and I would be shocked if she had not spoken to him privately about it,” Anna said.
“The plain fact is, we can hardly expect William or your mother to know how to solve the problem when the best and most reputable institutions haven’t been able to do so.
Your mother is trying to stay close, to be there for the boys.
I credit her with understanding what it is that she can actually do. ”
“I’m not sure I’ve given Mother credit for all she does know,” Julia said, relieved she had restrained herself earlier.
“I’m familiar with that,” Anna said. “I thought she was the pretty, athletic sister, while I was the smart one. I devalued not only her mind but also her accomplishments.”
“Such as?” Julia asked.
“I never appreciated what a study she made of her athletic pursuits, for example, or the relationships she built and sustained around them. Your father spotted more than a pretty girl on a tennis court that fateful day in Newport. He saw her keen interest, her desire for mastery.”
Julia’s mind flashed to the last summer she was on Haven Point.
She had been so annoyed when she heard her parents talking about a tennis game, thinking it was frivolous.
Now she recalled her father’s earnest compliments, how much he appreciated her skill.
With the fresh memory of the failure of her own overly complicated romance, Julia had a new appreciation for her parents’ shared pastimes and simple enjoyment of each other’s company.
“It took me a long time to recognize that my sister was far wiser than me,” Anna continued. “I was consumed with who was right and who was wrong. Your mother focused on what was right, and she had far more power than I realized to bring about the right outcome.
“Power…” Julia mused. “I confess it’s not a word I associated with my mother.”
“That’s because your mother wields it judiciously, in a way that allows everyone to maintain their dignity. She is remarkably discerning, though, about what matters and what is trivial. She knew what mattered. Especially what mattered for you, Julia.”
“I learned something recently about Mother that surprised me.” Julia relayed what Margaret Seaborne had told her, that it had been Mother who persuaded her to let Michael camp out on the island in the Potomac River. “I confess, I always associated Liberty Island with you.”
“Your mother knew your imagination needed room to run, that you needed room to run. I took you to Liberty Island, but it was her gift. It was a great tradition she was passing along, a very enlightened sense of possibility.”
Julia was so deep in thought, she jumped when the telephone in Anna’s kitchen jangled.
“Sorry. That old telephone bell is so loud, they could use it at a fire station. Excuse me a moment.”
Julia could only hear half of the conversation, Anna saying “yes” and “no,” but she knew Mother was on the other end.
“Your mother is coming over,” Anna said when she returned to the living room. “We have something we need to talk to you about.”