The Little Shadows - By Marina Endicott Page 0,186
as music slid over the water. Aurora and Mabel canoed out onto the lake, under the brightest full moon Aurora had ever seen. They talked about dropping in at the dance—and paddled home down the moonbeam instead.
It was all excruciatingly boring. But restful. Aurora felt her breathing deepen, the muscles around her ribs loosening after years of tautness—as if she were unlacing her corset, as Gentry had ordered her to do so long ago. She thought of sending him a postcard, but did not want to sadden him with news of Mama’s infirmity.
Dr. Graham came to the cottage one morning to work with Mama again. After spending an hour watching her play with Avery on the lawn, he said that he was well satisfied, though they might not see the tiny gradation of improvement. But once in a while, Aurora did catch Mama lifting the cream jug with the reluctant right hand; if frustrated enough she might scrawl a few words on her slate. Avery called forth greater effort; when Mama was frustrated or tired and weepy, plumping him onto her knee would stem her tears. She sang to him all day long, branching out from Early One Morning to snatches of Last Rose of Summer, and Aurora could hear the lyrics becoming clearer.
Mail and the papers followed them up to Katepwa, a day or two late. A letter from Clover on the peculiarities of Galichen’s atelier was a galvanizing jolt of pleasure in the soporific haze. Aurora read excerpts to Mabel and Elsie as they sat playing honeymoon whist on the porch one rainy afternoon. Mama dandled Avery on her lap—her reluctant right arm put to work around his waist, keeping him safe.
Gali issues dicta. Yawning is the latest: on Monday at the noon meal (we take it at the atelier every day; one piece of bread per person and a ladle of thin soup) he came out of his sanctum and spoke: we must yawn! Breath frees the soul and body to work more freely, yawning signals the moving of the mind to a new plane of discovery. So no one must be polite (always a cuss word around here) and repressed, but yawn mightily all day long.
By Thursday I guess he’d had enough of our tonsils: the dicta was on the noticeboard in the morning. Yawning would not be tolerated—a yawn is the sign of a disengaged mind, tending towards sleep, and we were all in need of waking up! If we find ourselves about to yawn we are to bend from the hips and breathe deeply six times.
A letter came from Bella, too, and required puzzling through as if it were the Rosetta stone:
Verrall has bouhgt a typerwriter, the better to seem proffesional!! I am traelling with him and eEast now because Nando has gone to work in the movies. Hiw father maeoe him. made him. Nando s mother went off with a magician she used to know. that broke his heart then he had to go get horrible Joe from the san so he went. Also some man in New Yrok wanted him to go int the movies but Nando does not want to but he could take his dad there too so he went. But do not worry about the $$$ becaues I will get a third of E&V take now they’ve come over to Pantages because Mr. Pantages likes me. He is faft. He wants me to do the bumbble bee but I do not have the wings. I might do Pretty Baby in Seattle. Every body loves a baby that’s why I’m in love with you, Pretty Baby. tell mama I miss her is she alll rihgt?
xxxxXXXXXXxxxxx for you and mama and the little dovey-boy
YOUR LOVING B.
i like Avery for his name thats good
Did that mean Pantages was fast, or fat? The typewriter was no better than Bella’s handwriting. Disturbing to hear that Nando’s mother had run off—and impossible to tell exactly what was going on with Nando, but perhaps it was for the best. Aurora had not been entirely easy about letting Bella travel with Nando when she was so enamoured of him, and still so young. It was a comfort that East and Verrall were with Pantages now and would look after Bella. How lucky that Pantages himself had taken a liking to her!
Aurora took the baby upstairs, and thought as he nursed of the lively lives her sisters were pursuing—and how this long hiatus was dulling her own mind,