Certain Women Read online

  Alice laughed. “Or Electracal—wasn’t Electra Oedipus’ daughter?”

  Emma laughed, too. “No. Antigone was. When Nik was writing the play, well, we were young, and I thought I could do anything. Not now.’

  Alice looked at Emma with her straightforward blue gaze. In the soft light the weathering of her face was gentled. The rain had stopped, and long shafts of pale sun slanted in through the starboard windows.

  Emma glanced toward the pilothouse, then at her watch. Sighed, then continued. “David escaped from Saul and was with Samuel in Ramah. And here’s another of these weird incidents. Saul sent his men to Ramah to kill David, but when they got there, they saw Samuel with a band of wandering prophets, singing and having ecstasies, and the assassins started singing and having ecstasies, too. Alice, what do you think of this religious ecstasy stuff?”

  Alice shrugged. “It’s not my way.”

  “You think it’s an okay way?”

  Alice shrugged again. “So what happened next?”

  “Saul joined the prophets and the assassins in singing and dancing, and prophesying. Speaking in tongues, I guess. Grandpa said that ‘tongues’ is the language of angels, including the fallen ones, and we have to be careful which ones we listen to.”

  “Did your grandfather speak in tongues?”

  “Yes. I heard him once. I was about six, and I’d climbed up into a live-oak tree and the branch I was on broke and I fell and banged my head and had the wind knocked out of me. I thought I was dead, and Grandpa picked me up in his arms and cried out to God, and then the lovely liquid syllables poured over me like water, and the air rushed into my lungs and I breathed again. And then he started to cry. I felt very much loved.”

  Alice touched her gently on the shoulder. “Yes. Having your wind knocked out is scary if you don’t understand what’s happened.”

  “Well, back to Saul”—Emma smiled at Alice—“joining in with the band of prophets. It doesn’t make a great deal of sense. But it might make a good scene if it was properly choreographed. Nik thought Jerry Robbins could do something terrific with it.” She looked up as Abby came down the steps from the pilothouse. The older woman was dressed casually in a blue cotton skirt and shirt, with a pale yellow cardigan over her shoulders; she looked very much a countess as she came into the main cabin, pulled out a chair, and sat.

  “David says we’ll eat up in the pilothouse with him.”

  “Yes. We’ll take up a couple of folding tables,” Emma said.

  Alice rose. “Ben will want to untie now and move on for the night. He’s put your bag down in the lower cabin—but you’ve been on the Portia before, haven’t you?”

  Abby nodded.

  “We’ve some new flannel sheets for the double bed, so it ought to be cozy.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “There are some curtains that pull around the bed for privacy,” Alice continued.

  Emma smiled. “When I sleep there I feel that I’m in a little nest when the curtains are closed. Excuse me for a few minutes, Abby, while I go help Ben.”

  When she came back Ben had nosed the Portia into quiet waters between two islands, and Alice was saying, “Emma’s doing all the cooking and making me feel like a lily of the field.”

  “You’re hardly that,” Emma said, “and it’s therapy for me.”

  Abby looked steadily at Alice, asking, “How long does David have?”

  “A few weeks. Maybe.”

  “Is it going to be bad? The pain, I mean?”

  “Not if I can help it. And I think I can. In a way, I wish his heart wasn’t so strong.”

  “Thank you. I’m grateful beyond words that David has a fine doctor to help him now. But it’s not easy when it’s your husband who’s your patient.”

  “No.”

  “I’m glad you and Emma are friends.”

  “True friends.”

  Abby spoke gently. “Your father told me you and Nik are not together. I’m sorry.”

  Best to have it out in the open with Abby, get it over with. “Yes. Well. I’m still struggling with old garbage.” Emma looked at her feet. There was a hole in her tennis shoe where her toe poked through. Abby looked at her questioningly. Emma turned on the seawater tap at the sink and ran her hands under the cold water. Then, to Alice, “How about a bottle of wine with dinner?”

  Alice glanced swiftly at Emma. “Good idea. I’ll get one from the hospitality hole.” She rose and opened a large trapdoor, went down a ladder to a storeroom filled with boxes, cans, jars, food that didn’t need refrigeration, and returned with a bottle, which she put in the fridge, then lowered the trap. Asked Abby, “Would you like a glass of sherry before dinner?”

  “No, thanks. I’m a bit tired from all the traveling, plus the time change, so a glass of wine with dinner will be ample for me.” She pulled a small sketchbook out of the canvas bag that hung over her arm. Then she asked, “Do I have time to unpack before we eat? It will take me only a few minutes.”

  “Sure,” Emma said. “There are some hangers on the rod at the foot of the bed, and I’ve cleared some space in one of the lockers.”

  “Thanks, that’s splendid. And my suitcase will slide easily in and out from under the bed.”

  “Do you need anything?” Alice asked. “Blue jeans? We have a pile of spares of all sizes.”

  Abby shook her head. “Thanks, I’m not a jeans person. I brought some winter underwear, if I need it.”

  Alice looked after Abby as she headed for the lower cabin, holding on to the rail as though her knees were troubling her. “I hated silk stockings and city clothes in New York, and Dave does like me to dress up. He buys most of my clothes for me.”

  “He loves you and he knows what suits you,” Emma said.

  “I hope Ben will dock us somewhere soon where there’s a laundromat. All my clothes are beginning to smell like fish.” She looked at Emma. “It still strikes me as unusual—that you’re her godchild. That she and your father—they love each other very much, don’t they?”

  Emma agreed. “But it’s quite possible to love more than one person. I mean, it doesn’t take away any of Papa’s love for you.”

  “I know that,” Alice said. “At least, I think I do.”

  That struck a chord, and Emma remembered a brief scene in Nik’s play where Zeruiah is reassuring Abigail that David loves her despite his taking other wives.

  And Abigail’s reply was the same as Alice’s: “I know that. At least, I think I do.” Following her own train of thought, Emma said, “Abigail was secure enough in herself—the Abigail in Nik’s play—and certain enough of David’s love to allow other people to love him.”

  “Thousands of people love your father,” Alice said. “Do you know how many fan letters a week he gets?”

  “Don’t tell me. Lots. But that’s a different kind of love.”

  Alice laughed. “And not threatening at all, even when women offer to marry him and give him fortunes and even buy him villas.” She picked up one of the folding tables and started up to the pilothouse. Emma watched her, then turned as she heard Abigail Wheaton on the steps from the lower cabin. “Alice has just gone to the pilothouse. Why don’t you go on up?”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Everything’s all set. I just have to bring up the casserole. Oh, Abby, I’m glad you’ve come.”

  “I’m glad I could come. And I’m grateful that your father can die here on the Portia, in these beautiful waters where he’s spent so many happy times.”

  “Abby, I know he’s old, and I wouldn’t want him to live and not be fully himself, but—”

  “But it’s hard,” Abby finished for her. “It’s not easy to let go those we love.”

  “You’ve had to do a lot of letting go, haven’t you?”

  “A lot. It’s never easy.” She held out her hand to Emma and they went up to the pilothouse, where David was talking to Ben. Alice was sitting in the revolving chair. With five of them, the pilothouse
was crowded. Emma put the steaming casserole on the wide shelf above her father’s bunk. Alice had already placed the salad and vegetables there, and fresh bread.

  “I think the simplest thing is for us to help ourselves,” Emma suggested. “You go first, Alice, and fix a plate for Papa.”

  “When the others come,” David said, “you’ll have to eat down in the main cabin.”

  “Meanwhile,” Abby said, “this is nice and cozy. Where are we, Ben?”

  “I’ll show you on the chart after dinner.”

  “Abby—” David’s voice trembled slightly. “I don’t want Myrlo to come.”

  “Don’t worry, love. Myrlo’s too old, and she has terrible arthritis. Sophie and Louis will want to be with you, of course.”

  “Dear Sophie,” David murmured. “I drove her away with my black despair. I have much to answer for.”

  “As do we all,” Abby said calmly.

  David looked quizzically at his daughter. “Your mother, Emma, left the orbit of our lives a long time ago.”

  Emma returned his look, saying calmly, “She’s tied down to her contract in Hollywood.”

  “Harriet,” David continued, “is busy with her ballet school and I wouldn’t disturb her for anything. Now, Jarvis—this is a production Jarvis isn’t going to want to miss. I think I owe him that small pleasure. Dear Jarvis, he never settles down in his own life, but he does stay in touch with the family, what’s left of it. He runs up huge bills—sometimes on my phone—calling Chantal and Everard in Mooréa. Jarvis loves more deeply than he’s willing to admit to himself. Alas, that’s the lot. I’ve outlived too many people. Marical. Meredith. Poor little Inez, killed with Edith when that train was blown up. The world isn’t any less bloody than it was in King David’s day.”

  “I’ll call Nik, Papa,” Emma said softly.

  “Bless you, my darling. Am I being very primitive? When Ellis, Norma’s husband, died, the whole family was gathered around him.”

  “It’s hardly primitive,” Abby said. “It’s far more civilized than most of us dare to be.”

  “King David took his people from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age. What age are we in now? We seem to be moving from metal to plastic.” David was eating little, but he was alert, his eyes bright.

  Ben cut more bread and offered the breadboard to Abby.

  “Thanks, Ben. King David was a luminous man, and so are you, Dave. When you come onstage, it lights up.”

  “The light is dimming,” David said.

  “It is still there,” Abby assured him. “It has little to do with the body. You will never lose it.” She reached out to pat his hand. “They fought a lot, those old tribes. I suppose it’s impossible for us, nearly three millennia later, to understand a world of small tribes.”

  Ben put in, “Maybe they liked fighting, the way people like football today.”

  David grinned. “Good analogy, Ben, and probably valid.”

  Emma got up and took their plates. “Fruit and cheese for dessert. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll help.” Alice took the serving dishes.

  The two women stood in the galley. Alice scraped the plates and rinsed them in seawater, while Emma filled a plastic pan with hot soapy water, another with clear water. “Is it okay for you? Abby’s being here?”

  Alice nodded slowly. “She brings a kind of serenity with her. And she’s good for Dave.”

  Yes. Emma had noticed that her father’s color was better, that he was rallying to Abby’s presence. When the dishes were stacked in the rack to dry, she picked up a bowl of fruit.

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Alice said. “Go ahead.”

  Emma looked at Alice, started to speak, then closed her mouth and went up to the pilothouse. Ben was out on the foredeck, doing something with the anchor chain.

  She had left her father talking about football and small, warring tribes. Now Abby was saying, “At least Saul tried to get rid of some of the superstition that abounded.”

  “You’ll never get away from superstition entirely,” David said. “Not while the human being is still human. I have my old rabbits foot in my makeup box. I don’t whistle in my dressing room. I spit and say merde to my co-players on opening nights.”

  “I wish on the first star,” Emma said.

  “But you don’t go to fortune-tellers,” Abby said.

  “Heavens, no, they scare me.” Emma shuddered. “What made you think of that?”

  Her father laughed grimly. “Myrlo used to go to fortune-tellers the way she now goes to her psychiatrist.”

  Emma shook her head. “One day at a time is all I can manage. I don’t believe in trying to play around with the future.”

  Her father’s mind was back on the King David play. “Saul forbade witches and necromancers and wizards, maybe to try to placate Samuel. I don’t think he understood that meddling with the future is a dangerous thing. If I had known when we started rehearsals for Lear that I’d never do another play, I wouldn’t have enjoyed myself as much as I did.”

  Abby smiled. “David, you’re coming to the end of your days knowing that you’ve done what you set out to do. Not many people have that honor.”

  David looked at her lovingly. “I am grateful beyond words. If I had my life to live over again—oh, there are many things I ought to change, and a few that I would, but you’re right. I’ve done what I wanted to do.” He put his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.

  Abby rose. “Bedtime for me.” She bent down to David and kissed him.

  He returned the kiss, took her hand in his, and kissed the palm. “Abby.” He smiled at her. “It’s a new role for me, this journey into night. I’m eighty-seven, and I’ve had a good run, and Alice will try to see to it that I die with a semblance of dignity.”

  Quietly, Emma left the pilothouse and the old man and his second wife.

  Alice was sitting at the table in the main cabin. She looked up as Emma came down the steps. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine. Abby’s just saying good night to Papa.”

  Alice stirred as Abby came down the steps, holding the rail. “Alice, David’s waiting for you. I’ll be heading for bed. Good night, my dears.”

  Emma went to her godmother and embraced her. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”

  Abby left them, and they could hear her drawing the curtains around the bed, the curtains that would give her some privacy; Emma and Alice would have to go through the lower cabin to get to their bunks under the pilothouse.

  Emma looked at Alice’s face, noting the tension about her mouth. “I’m so accustomed to Papa’s wives—I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be for you.”

  “It’s okay,” Alice said. “Really. I’m glad she’s here.”

  Emma used the head in the main cabin, then undressed and climbed into her bunk. When Alice came to bed, Emma was again reading one of Nik’s scenes:

  Abigail and Zeruiah are on the rooftop of the women’s quarters, relaxing, talking. Abigail is weaving, and Zeruiah is folding some embroidered robes.

  ZERUIAH: You are not jealous of Jonathan?

  ABIGAIL: Jonathan? I love Jonathan.

  ZERUIAH: How can you love Jonathan? You don’t even know him.

  ABIGAIL: (Smiling) I do.

  ZERUIAH: Abigail, are you getting crazy, like Saul?

  ABIGAIL: No, Zeruiah. Jonathan came to David a few nights ago, in secret, warning him of Saul. I served them food and wine, and sat with them while they ate, then left them alone, and in the morning Jonathan had gone. He didn’t dare be seen with David, or have anyone know he’d come. He risked everything for David.

  ZERUIAH: Because he loves him.

  ABIGAIL: Yes, I thank the heavens for Jonathan’s love. David might not be alive without it.

  ZERUIAH: Oh, you are good. David is blessed to have you, surrounded as he is by men out to get him, some of them as crazy as Saul.

  ABIGAIL: (Sighing) Aren’t most men crazy? My first husband, Nabal, cer
tainly was.

  ZERUIAH: And David?

  ABIGAIL: Oh, my dear, aren’t we all a little crazy, we human creatures, with our wars and our gods and our jostling for power?

  She turns as she hears footsteps. David has come up onto the roof, seeking Abigail as well as the cool night breezes. Zeruiah moves away, offstage, left, and David holds out his arms to Abigail.

  Emma had liked this scene and the warmth it gave to Abigail. She sighed as she continued reading the scene between Abigail and David.

  ABIGAIL: Ah, David, I wish you and Saul could make peace.

  DAVID: So do I. But wishing isn’t enough. Saul wants to kill me.

  ABIGAIL: You are greater than he is. You will be a greater king. You will unite your people. No wonder he is jealous.

  DAVID: (Leans against Abigail, who holds him) Oh, my Abigail, I am tired of being hunted.

  ABIGAIL: (Caressing him) You have cause to fear Saul when his madness comes on him, but remember that you have no cause to fear God. You are the beloved; God has you by the right hand, and shall receive you in glory. God is the strength of your heart and your portion forever.

  DAVID: You sound so certain.

  ABIGAIL: I am.

  “Was it a good play?” Alice asked.

  “Good material for a play.” Emma sighed. “Nik never pulled it all together. But he had some wise things to say, and some good questions. About friendship, for instance.”

  “David and Jonathan?” Alice asked.

  “Yes. David and Jonathan. Nik really tried to emphasize what he called the friendship of the heart. Well, you and I have talked about that, haven’t we?”

  “Yes,” Alice said. “I wish it were emphasized more, the friendship of the heart. I like that phrase.”

  “So do I. And all anybody thinks about today is sex.”

  Alice looked at Emma, raising her eyebrows slightly.

  “Remember a couple of years ago—it was a spring evening, the first really warm weather, and we went for a walk in Riverside Park, and we were walking arm in arm, and I was feeling both mothered and sistered by you, and then suddenly some women behind us made nasty remarks?”