The Game of Love and Death(21)

“I won’t say a word.”





HENRY and Ethan came home after a disappointing baseball game to the spectacle of Annabel in a sobbing, facedown heap by one of the columns holding up the porte cochere. With anyone else, Henry would have worried there had been a death in the family. In all likelihood, Annabel had stubbed her toe.

“What’s wrong this time, Bell?” Ethan said.

“Mother. She’s what’s wrong.” She rolled onto her back to sob sunny-side up, flinging an arm across her forehead.

“Don’t say that so loudly,” Ethan said, laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Ethan’s right.” Henry stifled his chuckle. “She might make you eat Brussels sprouts. Or worse.”

“She won’t teach me how to ride a bicycle,” Annabel said. “She said ladies don’t do that.”

“She doesn’t know how to ride a bicycle is why,” Ethan said. “But I’ll teach you this weekend.”

“I need to know now,” Annabel said. She sat and brushed gravel from her dress.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Ethan said. “It’s a school night. And we’re worn out from our game.”

“I’ll teach you, Bell,” Henry said.

“Really?” Annabel asked. She stood, wiped her nose, and launched herself into Henry’s arms. He caught her and pretended to stagger backward, but really, she was as light as anything.

Ethan shrugged. “You’re spoiling her. Not that I give a darn about that.”

“Dry your face,” Henry said, offering her his handkerchief. “Let’s get Ethan’s old bicycle and go to the park.” He felt like having a little adventure before drilling calculus into his skull.

Once they’d arrived and he’d helped her carry the bicycle down the steps leading to the path, Henry explained to Annabel how her feet were meant to push the pedals, and how forward momentum would make it easier for her to keep her balance as she rode from one of the circular ponds to the other, landmarks that reminded him of the day he’d seen Charles Lindbergh. He’d been about Annabel’s age at the time. Strange. He hadn’t thought of that moment in years.

“I’m not a dummy,” she said. “I know how a bicycle works. I’ve watched you and Ethan do it a thousand times. I just need you for the push.”

“All right, then,” Henry said. He helped Annabel onto the seat. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“On the count of three.”

“Don’t let go.”

“I thought you knew how to ride a bicycle.”

“I do,” she said. “I just don’t want you to get lost from me.”

“One,” Henry said.

“And don’t go too fast.”

“Two.”

“And don’t let go,” she said.

“Three!” Henry started jogging beside the bicycle, holding tightly to the seat. “You have to pedal, Annabel.” He had visions of her tipping and falling into the pond and getting tangled in the lily pads.

“I am.”

“You’re just moving your feet,” he said. “I can tell. Use your muscles.”

“Is this better?”

“Perfect,” he said, running faster to keep up.

“I think I am a natural,” she said.

“You certainly are. Keep going.” His plan was to have her pedal from one pond to the other, down the straight sidewalks connecting the two.

As Annabel pedaled, a sparrow trilled. Henry looked up and caught a glimpse of a young woman in a green coat, white gloves, and black hat. It was Flora, coming down the steps just ahead. Of course it was. It felt as though he’d willed this moment into being. She was all he could see when he closed his eyes, and he knew at some point or another, he’d open them and find her in the real world, away from the club and away from Ethan, where they could just be two people together, standing under the same sky.

“Annabel, let’s practice stopping,” he said, trying to mask his nerves.

“I don’t want to.”

“Annabel,” he warned, “you’re going to have to.” He tugged gently on her seat, but she pedaled harder, breaking away. He took off after her, but wasn’t fast enough to stop her before she crashed spectacularly in front of Flora.

Annabel turned on the waterworks. “Henry. You let go of me. You let go.”

Henry crouched next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. He glanced up at Flora and remembered a long-forgotten moment from that day in the park. He’d nearly run over a girl on his bicycle. In his mind’s eye, that girl’s face and Flora’s were one and the same. They had the same name too. The coincidence of it seemed equally impossible and necessary. Did she remember? Had it been her? He couldn’t bear to ask. And there was also the matter of Annabel’s dramatic meltdown. She had a definite future as a radio star. The situation was feeling more like a disaster every moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping Annabel’s tears.

“Girl’s got a good voice.” Flora looked even better than she did onstage. Definitely less serious as she crouched down to talk to Annabel. “Do you know any songs?”