suppose you’re right,” she said. Then she looked up at him, and there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “But in five years I’ll be eighteen. Then I’ll go see just what’s at this embankment, and you won’t be able to stop me.”
“That’s five years,” Jack said. “In five years you could change your mind.”
“I won’t,” Elizabeth assured him. Then she slipped her hand into his, and together they walked back to the house.
* * *
Dinner was a quiet affair for the Congers that night, at least at the beginning. Out of respect for the delicate stomachs of Rose and Sarah, Mrs. Goodrich had put together a light omelette, which she had restrained herself from binning. Conversation was dilatory, much of it in the form of encouraging remarks directed toward Sarah by her parents. Sarah seemed not to hear; instead she concentrated on her plate calmly shoving each forkful of egg into her mouth, chewing stoically and swallowing. To Elizabeth, Sarah seemed to be as she always was.
Mrs. Goodrich cleared away the plates and brought in the dessert.
“Here we go again,” Elizabeth said.
“Hmm?” Rose inquired, turning her attention from Sarah to the older girl. Elizabeth grinned at her.
“I said, ‘Here we go again.’ We had the same pudding at school today. Except this is better.”
“Oh?” Rose said. But she was not really interested; her attention was back on Sarah. “How was school?”
“Not bad. We got our history tests back. I think Mr. Friedman must have made a mistake. He gave me a perfect score.”
Now both Rose and Jack turned to Elizabeth, and she could see the pleased expression in their eyes. But before they could speak, a sound rent the air.
Elizabeth turned, then ducked just in time to avoid the bowl of pudding that was flying toward her from her sister’s place. The glass bowl shattered on the wall behind Elizabeth, but the sound of its crashing was inaudible over the shrieks and wails emanating from Sarah.
Her face contorted in rage, Sarah snatched all the silverware within her reach, and in a moment it was scattered across the room. One of the heavy silver knives shattered a pane in the French door and clattered to rest on the veranda outside. Her voice building, barati continued to howl as her arms moved wildly over the table, searching out other things to throw.
Rose sat as if frozen and stared at Sarah. Sarah had been so calm, and now— She began to rise as she saw Sarah’s fists clutch at the tablecloth. She tried to prepare herself for the destruction that was imminent if her daughter followed through on what she apparently intended to do.
And then, over the din of Sarah’s howling, she heard Jack’s voice shouting.
“For God’s sake!” he yelled. “Will you get her out of here?”
Rose’s eyes widened, but the impact of his words seemed to free her from her chair. Wordlessly she swept Sarah into her arms, somehow freeing the clutching fingers from the tablecloth, and carried her from the room. As she passed Jack she sensed more than saw him slump weakly in his chair.
The dining room was suddenly silent, and the two of them sat there, Jack avoiding words, Elizabeth with nothing to say. Then, visibly, Jack began to pull himself together.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, more to himself than to Elizabeth. “Every time she does something like that I get the most horrible feeling. I get the feeling that I made her nuts.” He began sobbing, but silently.
“And I guess I did,” he mumbled. Then he too left the room, and Elizabeth was suddenly alone.
She sat quite still for a time, as if she had neither heard what her father said nor noticed the chaos around her. When eventually she moved, it was to begin cleaning up the mess. She cleared off the table first, then began on the wall and floor. She moved slowly, carefully, as if her mind was far from what she was doing. When she finished, she surveyed the dining room.
“I was so sure that was Cecil,” she said, for no apparent reason. “But I guess it couldn’t have been.” She was silent, then spoke once more to the empty room. “I wish he’d come home.”
Then Elizabeth, too, left the dining room.
8
To an observer they would have seemed no different from any other family at breakfast Perhaps one child—the younger—was much quieter than the other, but such is the case in any family. Only a particularly careful observer would have noted a