In the Shadow of Lakecrest(85)
My battles with Hannah faded into insignificance. I was relieved to be spared the running of the household and allowed her to supervise the nurse and the children’s schedules. There were signs here and there that she hadn’t given up her interfering ways. An offhand comment she made about boarding schools that I chose to ignore. Her insistence we spend August in Maine, despite the expense, because the “right people” would be there. I went along without complaint, biding my time. As my children became more independent, flickers of my old self sparked to life. With every step Robbie took, a piece shifted back into place.
Turning points are often best viewed in hindsight, but I knew right away the phone call from Terrence Fry could change everything. He was a well-known architect working with rich clients who wanted a lakeside home. Might some of our property be for sale? Despite the times, there were apparently still people with enough money to pay handsomely for a water view. It sounded like an offer heaven-sent to solve two problems at once. We’d be rid of the bleak, deserted north estate, and we’d finally be able to afford a renovation of Lakecrest.
Matthew and I were immediately in favor of selling, but not Hannah. We first discussed it over dinner, resolved nothing by dessert, then dragged the arguments along with us into the next day. I turned on the charm, and Matthew pulled out the family accounts to make his case, but Hannah wouldn’t budge. It was then that I realized my life and my children’s future were still firmly in her hands.
I began tallying up the slights I’d previously brushed off, the constant instructions to do things this way or that. Early motherhood had been a cocoon, nestling me as I transformed into a sharper, clearer version of myself. Before I had children, I prided myself on being strong and independent; now, I saw how weak I’d really been. Cowed by Hannah’s anger and scared of Matthew’s mood swings, I’d allowed a leaky house and bossy old lady to drive me nearly crazy. Matthew’s dreams were long gone, thanks to Lemont Medical’s magical syrup, but if they ever started up again, I knew I’d no longer cringe at the edge of the bed if he attacked me in the night. I’d fight back.
Pent-up anger builds in secret, like a volcano beneath the surface. You never know when the tremor will hit that sets it off.
It was an ordinary summer day, the heat building but not yet oppressive. Hannah and I were following Stella and Robbie and the nanny on our usual midmorning walk. There’d be luncheon in an hour, then a nap for Robbie and an afternoon at the beach with Eva and her children. The routine was ingrained, and nothing in those fateful minutes warned of approaching danger. But isn’t that often the way of it, right before your life inexorably changes?
The nanny held Robbie’s hand while Stella skipped ahead. She became a speck in the distance, a whirl of blonde and white in the waist-high prairie grass. Around her hovered the ghosts of buildings past. I would never be able to look at this landscape without seeing the Temple and the Labyrinth, without picturing Cecily stabbing herself to death.
I stopped and turned to Hannah. We had understood each other once on the day Stella was born. I appealed to the Hannah buried beneath the stern self-righteousness, the woman who had acknowledged my importance to her family.
“Don’t you want to be free of all this?” I pleaded. “There’d be a new family, a new house. A fence. We wouldn’t have to face this constant reminder of what happened.”
“There’s no need to be dramatic,” she said. “And to think you accuse me of dwelling in the past!”
Irked by her dismissive tone, I struck back. “If that were true, you’d welcome the changes I planned for Lakecrest.”
“You know very well that we can’t afford to redecorate.”
I could have stopped right there and accepted that Hannah was being Hannah and stomped off after the children. But the pride I’d kept caged was pushing to break free. I wanted to provoke Hannah and show her I wasn’t beaten.
“We’d have the money if we sold the land!” I exclaimed. “Matthew’s all for it.”
“Matthew will say whatever he must to keep you happy.”
Knowing that was true didn’t make me any less angry. “If we’re nearly in the poorhouse, why is there money for boarding school?”
“That is entirely different,” Hannah said. “School is an investment in Stella and Robert’s future. If they don’t go to the right schools, they won’t move in the right circles.”
“Well, I’m not sending my children away. No snobby French governesses, either. I’m going to enroll Stella in the East Ridge school.”
Hannah looked as if I’d suggested sending her to the moon. “You can’t!”
My laugh sounded more like a snort. “Can’t I? I am her mother. Why not close up Lakecrest while we’re at it? You’re always telling me it costs a fortune to run. Matthew and I could rent a house in town. That would be the financially wise choice, wouldn’t it? I’m sure we could find a cozy little apartment for you nearby.”
Stella shrieked with a wild kind of joy. I saw Robbie toddling after her, the nanny almost obscured by weeds. Even as I threatened to move, I knew I’d never do it. My children loved this land.
“That’s ridiculous,” Hannah said. “Lemonts belong at Lakecrest.”
Her eyes went soft, a trick she used to make it seem as if she cared. After all this time, I still couldn’t tell when her motherly concern was genuine or put on.