Page 104 of Dreams of Falling
Ceecee walked back to where Ivy slept and placed her hand on herchest to make sure she could feel her breathing. Then she turned toward Margaret, watching as she placed the final candle back in its place, the long sleeves of her nightgown dipping perilously close to the flame.
“Careful,” Ceecee said, straightening.
“Are you afraid I might get hurt?” Margaret quirked an elegant eyebrow.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Margaret’s expression became serious, her tone less mocking. “Because if something happened to me, Boyd would be free.”
“Don’t say that, Margaret. You know you don’t mean it.”
“Don’t I, though? I sometimes think that if I went away, everyone would be better off. You, Boyd, even Ivy. I love her so much, but it’s like my heart is wrapped in cotton. I just can’t feel anything. I just... I just don’t see the point anymore.”
“Oh, Margaret,” Ceecee said, understanding her grief with the same depth as with which she felt her own anger. “Please don’t say that. Because then everything will be for nothing.”
Margaret’s beautiful blue eyes followed her as Ceecee walked to the elegant white-and-gold telephone on a side table. “Let me call Boyd and Bitty. Let them know that you and Ivy are here and unharmed. The hurricane is supposed to hit well north of here, so we should be safe from the worst of it. We’ll figure this out in the morning. Everything always looks brighter in the morning.”
“Yes,” Margaret said, her voice oddly monotone. “Everything will be better in the morning.”
Ceecee held the phone receiver to her ear. She heard only empty air and the sound of the storm picking up outside, the wind tossing dead leaves and debris onto the window glass. After two more tries, she hung up in defeat.
“The phone lines always go out first,” Margaret said. “It’s the wind.”
They were silent, the popping noises from the candle wax mixing with the sound of the wind and the smattering of rain as it slammed against the side of the house. As they stood listening, the single electriclight, a small lamp by the phone, went dark. Ceecee moved to the switch on the wall and flipped it, but the room remained dark except for the flickering candlelight.
Ceecee went to one of the windows and peered outside. Daylight had finally given in to the clouds and setting sun. The wind had picked up, the rain now blowing almost horizontally. “I should probably stay. I don’t know how safe the roads are. I’ll just have to hope that Bitty remembers to tell my parents where I am.” She turned to Margaret. “Have you eaten? I’ve got two apples and some cookies if you’re hungry. Although I think I’ll save the cookies for Ivy for when she wakes up.”
“We already ate,” Margaret said, her words spoken slowly, distractedly, almost as if she’d already forgotten what she was saying by the time she finished her sentence. “I suppose the only thing to do now is go to bed and wait for morning.” She looked around at the candles. “I’ll stay here with Ivy. So she doesn’t wake up in the dark.”
“It’s still early,” Ceecee said. “I could stay down here, and we could talk for a while.”
Margaret smiled, her face cast in shadow. “I have a book. Why don’t you go to sleep? You can have the bedroom you used to stay in. The blue one at the top of the stairs.”
“Shouldn’t I stay down here with you and Ivy?”
“I doubt that I’ll sleep. If the storm gets bad, I’ll come and get you. We can all hide in the wine cellar.” She smiled again, her lips thin. “Everything will look better in the morning.”
Another gust of wind and rain hit the house. Something in Margaret’s voice, something lost and desolate, made Ceecee cross the room and embrace her friend. “It will. And remember that you still have Bitty and me.”
“Friends forever,” Margaret said, pulling away. Her eyes searched Ceecee’s. “If there was anything I could do to change the way things are, you know I would.”
Ceecee felt a chill race down her spine, recalling Bitty saying the same thing just hours before. A spark of anger chased the chill, making her straighten. “What would you change, Margaret? Meeting Reggie?”
Margaret stared back at her with dull eyes. “No,” she said eventually. “I should probably say yes, but I can’t.”
“Well, then,” Ceecee said. She moved to the settee and kissed Ivy on the forehead, feeling again the rise and fall of the small chest.
“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning, if not sooner.”
“All right,” Margaret said, settling herself into a stuffed armchair and placing her feet on an ottoman. “Good night, Ceecee.”
Ceecee took a tapered candle in an old-fashioned candlestick and lit it using one of the candelabras, then went upstairs to the familiar bedroom. Everything was the same—the wallpaper, the navy blue bedding, the rug. The only thing different was her reflection in the dressing table mirror, the candle in her hands casting dark holes where her eyes should be.
She didn’t bother to close the drapes, wanting whatever morning light there was to awaken her. Weather allowing, she had to get back home, reassure her parents that she was all right, and call Boyd.
Mostly, she wanted to get Ivy away from this place. She’d ask Margaret to come, too, but she wasn’t going to ask her permission to take Ivy.
Ceecee placed the candle on the bedside table and pulled back the covers, taking off only her shoes before lying down. She closed her eyes, but sleep was as elusive as ever. Her head hurt and her heart hurt; she went back and forth from feeling pity for Margaret to anger. And pity for herself, too, for a life she found almost unbearable.
