Page 104 of The Giver of Stars
He shook his head. ‘Why would we?’ His voice emerged muffled through his rough hands. ‘She’s right. That’s the worst of it, Alice. She’s right.’
Through Kathleen, who knew everything and everyone, Alice found a woman in the next town who would wet-nurse the baby, her own having recently weaned, for a small sum. Every morning Sven would drive the baby over to the white clapboard farmhouse and little Virginia would be handed over for food and care. It made all of them a little uneasy to see it – the child belonged with her mother – and Virginia herself had swiftly become withdrawn, her eyes watchful, her thumb plugged warily into her mouth, as if she no longertrusted the world to be a benign and reliable place. But what else could they do? The child was fed; Sven was free to find work. Alice and the girls were able to get by as best they could, and if their hearts were sick and their stomachs tight with nerves, well, that was the way it was.
23
‘I don’t ask you to love me always like this but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.’
F. Scott Fitzgerald,Tender Is the Night
A near circus atmosphere descended on Baileyville, the kind of commotion that made Tex Lafayette’s appearance look like a Sunday School reunion. As news of the start date had broken across the town the mood seemed to shift, and not necessarily in Margery’s favour. The extended McCullough clan began to arrive from out of town – distant cousins from Tennessee, from Michigan and North Carolina, some of whom had barely seen McCullough in decades but who now found themselves highly invested in the idea of retribution for their beloved relative, and swiftly took to congregating outside either the jailhouse or the library, to shout abuse and threaten vengeance.
Fred had come down twice from his house to try to calm things, and when that failed, to reveal his gun and announce that the women must be allowed to get on with their work. The town seemed split in two with their arrival, dividing between those who were disposed to see all the wrong in Margery’s family as evidence of her own bad blood, and those who preferred to go on their own experience, and thanked her for bringing books and a little pleasantry into their lives.
Twice Beth got into fist-fights on the back of Margery’s reputation, once in the store and once on the steps outside the library, and had taken to walking around with her hands bunched, as if permanently braced to throw a punch. Izzy wept frequently and silently, and would shake her head mutely if anyone spoke to her of it, as if the act of talking were too much. Kathleen and Sophia said little, but their sombre faces told of which way they thought this would go. Alice could no longer visit the jail, in accordance with Margery’s wishes, but felt her presence in the little concrete building as if they were connected by threads. She was eating a little, Deputy Dulles said, when she stopped by. Didn’t speak much, though. Seemed to spend a lot of time sleeping.
Sven left town. He bought a small wagon and a young horse, packed up what remained of his belongings and moved out of Fred’s to a one-room cabin a short distance from the wet-nurse on the eastern side of the Cumberland Gap. He could not stay in Baileyville, not with people saying what they were. Not with the prospect of seeing the woman he loved brought even lower, and the crying baby in earshot of her mother. His eyes were red with exhaustion, and new deep grooves ran down each side of his mouth that had nothing to do with the baby. Fred promised him at the first word of anything he would drive right over.
‘I’ll tell her – I’ll tell her …’ Fred began, then realized he had no idea what he would tell Margery. They exchanged a look, then slapped each other on the shoulder, in the way near silent men have of conveying emotion, and Sven drove off with his hat pulled low over his brow and his mouth set in a grim line.
Alice also began to pack up. In the quiet of the little cabin she began to separate her clothes into those she might findsome use for in England, in her future life, and those she could not imagine wearing again. She would hold up the fine silk blouses, the elegantly cut skirts, gossamer slips and nightwear and frown. Had she ever been this person? In the emerald floral tea-dresses and lace collars? Had she really required all these hair rollers, setting lotions and pearl brooches? She felt as if such ephemera belonged to someone she no longer knew.
She waited until she had completed this task before she told the girls. By this stage they had all, by some unspoken agreement, taken to staying at the library together until way beyond their finishing time. It was as if this was the only place they could bear to be. Two nights before the trial was due to start she waited until Kathleen began gathering her bags, then said, ‘So – I have some news. I’m leaving. If anyone wants any of my things I’ll be leaving a trunk of clothes in the library for you all to go through. You’re welcome to any of it.’
‘Leaving where?’
‘Here.’ She swallowed. ‘I have to go back to England.’
There was a heavy silence. Izzy’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘You can’t leave!’
‘Well, I can’t stay, unless I go back to Bennett. Van Cleve will come after me once he’s got Margery safely locked up.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Beth.
There was a lengthy silence. Alice tried to ignore the looks passing between the other women.
‘Is Bennett so bad?’ said Izzy. ‘I mean, if you could persuade him to move out from his daddy’s shadow, maybe you two would have a chance. Then you could stay.’
How could she explain now how impossible it would be to return to Bennett, feeling as she did about Fred? She would rather be a million miles from Fred than have to walk pasthim every day and know she had to go back to another man. Fred had barely touched her yet she felt they understood each other better than she and Bennett ever had.
‘I can’t. And you know Van Cleve won’t rest until he’s got rid of the Packhorse Library, too. Which will put us all out of a job. Fred saw him with the sheriff and Kathleen saw him twice last week with the governor. He’s working away to undermine us.’
‘But if we don’t have Margery and we don’t have you …’ Izzy’s voice trailed away.
‘Does Fred know?’ said Sophia.
Alice nodded.
Sophia’s eyes held hers, as if confirming something.
‘When are you going?’ said Izzy.
‘Soon as the trial is done.’ Fred had barely spoken the whole drive home. She had wanted to reach out, to touch his hand and tell him she was sorry, that this was so far from what she wanted, but she was so frozen with grief at her possession of the paper ticket that she couldn’t move.
Izzy rubbed at her eyes and sniffed. ‘Feels like everything’s falling apart. Everything we worked for. Our friendship. This place. Everything is just falling apart.’
Normally when one of the women expressed such dramatic sentiments the others would leap on her, telling her to stop being ridiculous, that she was crazy, that she simply needed a good night’s sleep, or some food, or to get a hold of herself; it was her monthlies talking. It was a measure of how low they all felt that this time nobody said a word.
Sophia broke the silence. She took an audible breath and placed both hands palm down on the table. ‘Well, for now we keep going. Beth, I don’t believe you’ve entered your books from this afternoon. If you’d be kind enough to bring them over here, I’ll do them for you. And, Alice, if you cangive me the exact day you’re planning on leaving, I’ll adjust the payroll.’
