She saw the years upon years of inflexibility, the utter rigidity, in her grandmother. She remembered what Aunt Amabel had told her about when Noelle had come home, beaten by her husband, when Sally was just a baby. How they hadn't believed Noelle.
It had always been there, of course, this rigidity, but since Sally had seen her grandmother so infrequently, she'd never had it turned on her. More clearly than ever, Sally could see now how her grandmother had treated her daughter Noelle when she'd come here begging for help. She shuddered.
'Well,' her grandfather said, all hale and hearty, so good-natured, so weak, 'it's good to see you, dear. I know you don't have time to stay, do you? Why not let us send you back to Washington? Like your grandmother said, this Beadermeyer fellow seemed to be doing you a great deal of good.'
She looked from one to the other. Her grandfather, as tall as James, or at least he used to be, a man who had lived his life by a set of rules of his wife's making-or perhaps his father's-a man who didn't mind if someone strayed from the proper course but who wouldn't defend that person if his wife was anywhere near.
She'd always believed him so dear, so kind, but he wasn't coming anywhere near her, either-God, she wondered what he really thought of her. She wondered why he had that tight, mean mouth. She said, 'I was in The Cove. I stayed for a while with Aunt Amabel.'
'We don't speak of her,' her grandmother said, taller now because her back had gotten stiffer. 'She made her bed and now she must-'
'She's very happy.'
'She can't be. She disgraced herself and her family, marrying that absurd man who painted for a living, painted pictures!
'Aunt Amabel is an excellent artist.'
'Your aunt dabbled at many things, nothing more. If she were a good painter, then why haven't we heard of her? You see, no one has. She lives in this backwater town and exists on a shoestring. Forget about Amabel. Your grandfather and I are sorry you saw her. We can't give you money, Susan. I'm sure your grandfather would agree. Surely you understand why.'
She looked her grandmother right in the eye. 'No, I don't understand. Tell me why you won't give me money.'
'Susan, dear,' her grandmother said, her voice all low and soothing, 'you're not well. We're sorry for it and a bit stunned, since this sort of thing has never before been in the family except, of course, for your uncle Geoffrey.
'We can't give you money because you could use it to hurt yourself even more. If you would just sit down here, even stay the night, we will call Doctor Beader-meyer and he can come and get you. Trust us, dear.'
'Yes, Susan, trust us. We've always loved you, always wanted the best for you.'
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'You mean the way you sent your daughter, my mother, back to a man who beat her?'
'Susan!'
'It's true, and both of you know it. He beat the living shit out of her whenever he felt like it.'
'Don't use that kind of word in front of your grandmother, Susan,' her grandfather said, and she saw that mouth of his go stern and tight.
She just looked at him, wondering why she'd even come here, but still, she had to try. She had to have money.
'I tried to protect Noelle for years, but I couldn't save her because she let him do it-do you hear me?-Noelle let him beat her. She was just like all those pathetic women you hear about.'
'Don't be stupid, Susan,' her grandmother said in a voice that could have crushed gravel. 'Your grandfather and I have discussed this, and we know that battered wives are weak and stupid women.
They're dependent. They have no motivation. They have no desire to better themselves. They aren't able to leave their situations because they've bred like rabbits and the men they're married to drink and don't have any money.'
'Your grandmother is perfectly correct, Susan. They aren't our kind at all. They are to be pitied, certainly, but don't ever put your dear mother in that class.'
'Amabel told me how Noelle came here once-it was early on in her marriage-and told you both what my father was doing. You didn't want to hear about it. You insisted she go back. You turned her away. You were horrified. Did you even think she was making it up?'
Sally thought for a wild moment that this was surely the wrong way to go about getting money from them.
She hadn't realized all this resentment toward them was bottled up inside her.
'We will not speak of your mother to you, Susan,' her grandmother said. She nodded slightly to her husband, but Susan saw it. He took a step toward her. She wondered if he would try to hold her down and tie her up and call Doctor Beadermeyer. In that moment, she truly wanted him to try. She wouldn't mind hitting that tight, mean mouth of his that masked weakness and preached platitudes.
She took a step back, her hands in front of her. 'Listen, I need some money. Please, if you have any feeling for me at all, give me some money.'
'What are you wearing, Susan? That's a man's jacket. What have you done? You haven't harmed some innocent person, have you? Please, what have you done?'
She'd been a fool to come here. What had she expected? They were so set in their ways that a bulldozer couldn't budge them. They saw things one way, only one-her grandmother's way.
'You're not well, are you, Susan? If you were, you wouldn't be wearing those clothes that are so distasteful. Would you like to lie down for a while and we can call Doctor Beadermeyer?'
