Emma was standing in one of the narthexes of the church along with her mother. Her mother was nervous. I had never met her. Or perhaps I had met her. She was not angry, only worried about all the hundreds of details that might go wrong. She was worried about whether her cub had chosen the right mate or not. I’m not criticizing her. I was not an unequivocal match. Despite my successful parents, I probably made an unstable impression at times.
Outside the narthex Emma’s girlfriends stood waiting. They spoke loudly and shrilly with one another. They were nervous, too.
Neither the nervousness of her mother or her girlfriends could, however, compare to Emma Rabbit’s own. She had awakened with a lurch when the half-moon was still high in the sky. She sat up in bed and called out, “The ring!” with such panic that I threw off the blanket and leapt up.
“The ring? Is it gone?”
The ring was in secure keeping in the blue case that I had set on the nightstand. Yet Emma did not go back to sleep. Her anxiety kept us awake until dawn. Then we fell asleep for a few hours until it was time for me to go gather flowers for the garland.
They grew in the flowerbeds outside Lakestead House.
She was waiting for me in the corridor. She was driving her wagon.
I went up and looked her deep in the eyes. I nodded.
“I’m sure,” I answered without the least hint of doubt.
“Why?”
There was anxiety in her eyes and her nostrils flared involuntarily. A moment later they narrowed again.
“Because I love you,” I replied.
“But you were so hesitant,” she said, exactly as I knew she would, “you were occupied with your evil and good. You said that making promises you know you can’t keep is lying. And the more you cared about someone, the bigger the lie. You said that marriage was the worst kind of lie. Because even if you wanted to be faithful…even if you wanted to love for your whole life…even if you wanted…”
“Darling,” I interrupted, “I know what I said.”
“Even if you wanted all that…” Emma continued without paying attention to my objection. “You said that the rest of your life was too long a time to foresee. You said that things always happen that you can’t control. You said that, knowing all that with certainty, an animal with good intentions, an animal with a thoroughly good heart, ought never to get married.”
“Dear,” I interrupted a second time, “I know that I…”
“But everything you said,” said Emma, looking at me at the same time as her nose carried out the same sort of unregulated expansions and contractions as before, “doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”
I sighed and tried to calm her.
I didn’t want to take back what I’d said.
I couldn’t take it back; I stood by every word.
But to profess my love to her, to describe her as I saw her, with her secure self-confidence, her creative talent, and last but not least her remarkable beauty, wouldn’t be telling lies.
“Many struggle their whole lives to find the empathy which is completely natural for you,” I said. “It makes you sensitive and strong. If you find yourself in a difficult situation some day, your empathy will help you through the sorrow.”
“What difficult situation?” asked Emma.
“I mean,” I replied, reining in my irritation so that it was impossible to hear, “that you can rely on yourself, darling. You don’t need me, or anyone else, either. You are your own happiness. If you can’t see that yourself, which in a way is part of your charm, you’re going to find out what I mean the day you need to.”
I don’t know if she understood what I was saying.
She leaned forward and hugged me hard. When at last she released her hold, I went down the stairs and gathered my flowers.
I hadn’t lied.
I hadn’t held back the truth.
Yet it was with a heavy heart that I cut pink roses from the bushes growing in the backyard.
A good bear.
That’s what I want to be.
That’s not a humble desire.
In the afternoons, after reading and before I go down to dinner, I sit in the armchair and think about everything that separates good from evil. Some days I sit for a quarter of an hour. Other days I don’t get out of there for two or three hours. They are punctual at Lakestead House, and it’s unfortunate when this drags on.