Page 9 of Meet Me in the Garden

“Claire,” I say, “I need you to promise, too.”

Claire hesitates. “All right,” she finally says.

I tell them like a dam opening, everything at once. “She says it’s an adventure,” I say. But I also tell how at first she kept it a secret even from me. How I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something about it is wrong.

“I wish you’d told us. This is what older sisters arefor,” Adele says.

Claire says, “You havetwosisters to turn to, but you never come to us for anything.”

“That isn’t true. I’m sleeping on your sofa, aren’t I? This thing with Delphine, it was a runaway train. And Auntie Bertha wasn’t going tohelp. She was going to send her to the same place Maman sent Papa. It was too risky to say anything.”

“Delphine?” Claire asks. “To East Louisiana?” She looks like someone’s slapped her. “I see.”

“I wish we could have talked to her before she left,” Adele says. “Wish we could have met him and made sure his intentions were good.”

“I do, too,” I say. “But she’s promised that she’ll write me soon.”

“Tell us when she does,” Adele says. “We’ll keep it between us.”

A few days after Christmas, when I go to Hattie’s door, she has a letter for me in a pink envelope. “It was addressed to my name,” Hattie says. “But inside was a note from Delphine, saying it was for you.”

I sit on her love seat, shivering as I unfold the pages. Delphine says they made it to Los Angeles, drove all the way there in Bill’s car. They broke down off the highway in Arizona, had to stay for a few days in a motel while it was fixed. There was something about the desert, she says, that gave her the wildest dreams. Once they got to Los Angeles, they checked into a beautiful hotel with a king bed. No one questioned them at the counter, she felt entirely welcome. Bill left for a few hours one afternoon and came back with a diamond the likes of which she’d never seen, heavy when he slipped it on her finger. They met a man in the hotel bar who works for Paramount Pictures and said he’d put a good word in. Now they’re looking to buy a house near the studio, just in case. She’s showing more and more each day, and Bill’s taken to kissing her belly whenever he leaves. She says not to worry, that everything is beautiful, that she can’t wait to show me.

I collapse against the love seat. Exhale.

“Good news?” Hattie asks.

“Good news,” I say. “Want to read it?”

She doesn’t answer, and for the first time since I got here, I notice something’s wrong. She’s straight-backed at her sewing table, not working on anything. “We got some other mail, too,” she says. “Cyril’s being drafted.”

“Oh no,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

“He says he’s been expecting it. But the reality is still sinking in.”

“During the holidays. It just isn’t right.”

“I haven’t slept since the notice came. I wanted to cancel the NewYear’s party but Cyril’s insisting on having it. Our parents are, too. I can’t say I’m feeling very festive.”

I’ve never comforted her before. Never had reason to. She never sat still and sad at the thought of me leaving. But of course this is different. California isn’t a battleground; I’m being unfair. “Come sit with me?” I ask. She joins me, clasps her hands on her lap. I say, “Bernard was drafted around this time of year. I remember, it was terrible.”

“Terrible anytime, I guess.” She’s rubbing her knuckles with her thumb, pressing hard. Flash of Delphine, the bruise by her elbow. I put my hand over Hattie’s to stop her.

“We’re going to Los Angeles,” I say. “It’s happening. If you care, we’re going to have to make a plan. Or admit that it’s almost over, for us.”

I love you, I imagine her saying.I need you here with me. My body’s hungry for her body, but what I want even more are her words.

I undress her. I show her how well I can comfort. Show her that I, too, can make her forget. My mouth to the warmth of her. Her back arches, she moans. And then she’s above me, I’m flat on the rug. I wait for her to tease me. To be commanding. But for the first time ever, she’s tentative. She’s all soft lips and careful hands when I wish she would tear me apart.

FIVE

CLAIRE SPENDSTHE MORNINGOFNew Year’s Eve with Bernard, both doors closed to their bedroom. They’ve been timing her cycles since he came back from Europe. During her fertile days, the rest of us give them privacy, play the radio in the living room, talk loudly in the kitchen, run the water, plunk the lids on the pots. Today, when the bedroom doors open again and Bernard hurries back to join Al at the woodshop, Claire lies longer in bed, dressed in a nightgown, pillows propping up her bottom and her legs. “I know it looks funny, but the doctor suggested it,” she tells Adele and me.

“Not funny at all,” Adele says. “Perfectly logical. Hope you two gave it a good go this morning.” She winks at Claire. They glance at me, assuming that I know nothing of this for myself.

“Hand me that book over there?” Claire asks, pointing. A slim hardcover, burnt sienna with gold text:The Golden Gems of Psychological Astrology. I carry it over to her and she flips through the pages. “Let’s see. If this one takes, the baby will be born in September.”

“I have a good feeling,” Adele says. “A fall baby, like Odette.”