The Winters(73)

She pointed down the hall that led to the greenhouse, opening and shutting her mouth like a fish fighting for air on the deck of a boat. No words came out. I smelled the wine on her breath.

“I s-s-s-saw her. In there,” she stammered, her body still convulsing with terror. “I saw her!”

“Who?” She crawled towards me, clutching at me. I pushed the hair out of her sweaty face. “Tell me what happened.”

She looked at Max, her face panic-stricken. “Why?”

“Stay here with her. Do not move,” he hissed. “Do not let go of her.”

I nodded, Dani’s terror mingling with my own. Max headed to the greenhouse.

Dani began clawing my upper arms, her voice a desperate rasp. “Listen to me. I saw her. She’s in there.”

“Who, Dani?”

“My mother.”

She was drunk, but she believed this madness. By then I could hear Max in the greenhouse, throwing stuff about, a bang, a shuffle, overturning tables or chairs.

“Dani, you’re not well.”

“You have to believe me. She’s in there. I saw her,” she said, slumping back onto the floor. “I’m gonna be sick.”

I left her to retch on the floor while I ran to grab a bowl and to wet a tea towel, which I brought to Dani’s forehead. Then the noise in the greenhouse abruptly stopped.

“Dani, stay here. I’ll be right back,” I said over her retching.

I stood. Slowly I made my way down the dim hallway to see what had unsettled her, what had Max in a frenzy. It was quiet. Too quiet. Just as I reached the greenhouse door, Max swiftly exited, his body blocking my view. He looked shattered.

“Sweetheart, please don’t go in there.”

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of what looked to be a dirty wig on the ground next to a deep hole, white squares from the temporary flooring ripped up and flung about.

“What is that?”

“That’s . . . the kitten.”

“Oh God. Maggie!”

He spun me around and forcefully walked me back to the kitchen, where we found Dani tripping over her own vomit, trying to stand up.

I ran to her.

“We need to get out of here,” she slurred, tumbling to the floor, taking me back down with her. Max crouched in front of us, trying to secure eye contact with Dani, but she was lolling drunk.

“Dani, honey, look at me. Look at me.”

“No. Stay away from me.” She burrowed herself deeper into my arms like a terrified animal, shaking her head at him.

Max made a “phone call” gesture. “Do not move from her this time,” he whispered. “Stay. Right. Here.”

Dani kept her eyes trained on him. As soon as he rounded the corner to the den, she turned to me. “Did you see?”

“See what?” Oh, Maggie. Poor Maggie.

“My mother.”

“No one’s in there, sweetheart.”

“I’ll show you.”

She made another feeble attempt to stand. I restrained her, pinning her back down with me on the floor. Moments later Max returned, cradling the phone to his ear, listening, pacing the hall to the greenhouse like a goalie guarding a net.

“Yes . . . yes, but worse this time,” he murmured. “Delusions again, but now . . . violence, maybe. I don’t know . . . Yeah, I found some from the last time . . . Okay . . . We’ll wait right here. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He hung up and handed me a small white pill.

“Here,” he said. “Under her tongue, if you can. Dr. Sherman’s coming, Dani.”

I hesitated to put my fingers near her mouth, but when Dani saw the pill, she opened up like a hungry bird. Max brought her a glass of water but she would only take it from my hand. She took a gulp, then handed the glass back to me. She tapped her head with her index finger.

“Guess what, Daddy?” she hissed. “I remembered all about that night, what happened in the greenhouse.” Her filthy hands suddenly distracted her. “Wow. Look how gross my nails are. They’re like yours,” she said, laughing up at me.

“Dani, rest,” Max said.

She continued to ignore him, turning again to me. “I’m sorry I threw up. I’m sorry for everything.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” I said, patting her sweaty head. “I forgive you. Just rest now, okay?”

“I know I did some bad stuff, but I didn’t do the dress. I don’t hate you. But he hates me,” she said, going a bit limp in my arms. The pill started to kick in and soon she was staring blankly at the floor, not awake but not asleep.

Twenty minutes we stayed like that on the floor, in our pitiful Pietà, while Max ran upstairs to pack Dani a bag and some toiletries. Then he cleaned up the vomit and straightened the kitchen. When the doorbell finally rang, Dani didn’t hear it. She barely noticed Max returning with two ambulance attendants pulling a quiet gurney behind them. But at the sight of a tiny older woman, white-haired and calm, she threw open her arms like a toddler wanting to be picked up.

“Dr. Sherman!” she exclaimed.

The doctor gathered Dani in her arms and they fell into a familiar routine, the doctor asking her gentle questions, Dani murmuring answers.

“It was very good champagne, Dr. Sherman.”