The burnt orange sunrise

CHAPTER 6

Norma lay in bed with her hands clasped on top of the covers.

Her nightgown was buttoned to her throat, her hair neatly combed, skin and lips slightly blue. Her hand, when Des felt it, was cold to the touch, the fingers beginning to stiffen. Rigor was setting in, which meant that Norma had likely been dead for several hours. Although it was hard to be certain since the room was so chilly.

Des had her shearling coat on, hands stuffed in her pockets as she stood there studying Norma. More than anything else, there was an incredible stillness about death. A stillness that she was never quite prepared for even though she’d seen it many times. Too many times. “This is how you found her?”

“Yes, it is,” Les said hoarsely, standing there next to her. It was Les’s anguished cries that had roused her shortly after dawn. Roused them all. “It was her heart, Des. She’d had a lot of trouble. A serious attack three years ago. It was just a matter of time, really.”

Les and Norma were in the first room at the top of the stairs on the left, room one. It was practically identical to the room Des and Mitch had shared, just slightly smaller. Outside, the morning sky was clear and blue. The sunlight that streamed through the tall, granite-ledged windows seemed impossibly bright after the darkness of the night. The thermometer that was mounted out on the sill said it was three degrees below zero. And that didn’t factor in the wind that was still howling. Des could hear the angry whine of a chain saw outside. Jase was trying to do something about those two big sycamores that had come down at the head of the drive. Mitch and Spence were helping him. The others had retreated to the relative warmth of the taproom in stunned silence.

Except for Ada, who lingered there beside Les, staring down at her daughter with a shocked, hurt look on her ancient face. The old director had on cream-colored silk pajamas under a belted robe of heavy navy-blue wool. Her beautiful white hair needed brushing.

“My poor, sweet Norma,” she lamented, bending down to kiss her daughter’s cold forehead. “I nursed you at my breast while you gazed at me in innocent, trusting wonder. Now look at you, you sad thing. Ran out of time, didn’t you?” Ada glanced at Des, a deep, moist sadness in her hooded eyes. “She was just like her father. Luther had it, too.”

“Had what, Ada?”

“Heart disease. He died young himself, sixty-three years old. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.”

“She had a valve blockage,” Les spoke up. “Her heartbeat was irregular as a result. Cardiac arrhythmia, they call it. She was on medication, and bypass surgery had been strongly recommended, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently her father…”

“Luther died on an operating table in London,” Ada said. “It was supposed to be a routine heart procedure. It wasn’t routine. Not unless you consider death routine. Norma was convinced the same thing would happen to her if she went in, so she refused to even…” Ada’s voice broke, a jagged sob coming from her. “That’s my baby girl lying there. A mother isn’t supposed to outlive her children. I’ve outlived them both. First Herbert, now Norma. There is no one left. They’re gone. All gone.” Ada lingered for a moment longer, then shook herself. “I’ll join the others downstairs, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine, Ada.”

“Des, we need to talk some more, you and I,” she said with sudden urgency. “It’s vitally important. Later this morning, okay?”

“Sure, if you’d like.”

Ada touched her fingers to her own lips, then to Norma’s. “Goodbye, my dear. I shall always love you.”

“She loved you, too, Ada,” Les said softly, as the old lady glided from the room. Then he slumped heavily into the armchair by the bed, his eyes red and pouchy. He was unshaven, his wavy silver hair disheveled. He had dressed hastily in a rumpled Astrid’s Castle fleece top and baggy flannel-lined jeans. “She carried too much weight around. Her cardiologist in New Haven, Mark Lavin, kept after her to lose more. She did try, but she just had so much trouble keeping it off.”

“Les, I’ll need a list of the medications she was on.”

“Whatever you say. I used to pick them up for her at the pharmacy, so I ought to know. She took the digoxin for her heart. She also had an underactive thyroid. She took Synthroid for that.”

Des glanced at Norma’s nightstand. She saw a water glass, half empty, reading glasses, a book. No pills. “And they’d be where?”

“The bathroom. She was also on a couple of different, you know, female drugs-in spite of the negative press they’ve been getting.”

“You mean hormone replacement therapy?”

He nodded. “Prometrium and one other one. Can’t remember the name. She swore they made her feel more energetic. She took too much upon herself for a woman in her condition. Long, hard days. Loads of stress. I begged her and begged her to slow down, but she wouldn’t. I-I knew there was a chance that this might happen someday. I just… I wasn’t ready.”

“We never are, Les. Was she feeling poorly yesterday? Did she complain at all?”

“She absolutely never complained. But I did think she looked tired at dinner.”

“I remember you mentioning it.”

“No question she was under an added strain with this big tribute coming up-Ada being here, not to mention Aaron. I guess it was just too much for her.”

“Did she get up at all last night?”

“I wouldn’t know. I sleep like a log. You can set off dynamite next to me and I won’t wake up. That’s the worst of it,” he said, ducking his head.

“What is, Les?”

“I was lying right here next to her, snoring away like a big dumb clod, while Norma was fighting for her very life. I wasn’t here for her, Des. In her last moments on this earth, she was all alone. I just feel so…”

“Responsible? You’re not. Don’t go there, Les. I’m sure she didn’t suffer.” Besides which, Des reflected, what could he have done? No ambulance could have made it up there. Not even a Life Star helicopter could have come to the rescue. Not in this kind of wind. And even if they had, chances were the lady would have already been gone. “Don’t beat up on yourself. Try to remember the good times.”

“We were happy together,” he said mournfully. “We only had a few short years, six this coming May. But we were so happy.”

Des went over to the window and looked out at the morning sunlight. The world had never looked quite this way before. The sky had never been so blue, the snow so white. The clean hard coating of ice that covered everything positively shimmered. Many, many of the castle’s trees, especially the slender, pliable birches, were so bent over from the weight of the ice that their tops had actually frozen to the ground. When they thawed-assuming it ever got that warm again-they would very likely be severely damaged. For now, the sight was simply a breathtaking one. So was the panoramic mountaintop view. The Connecticut River was entirely frozen over. Downriver, where 1-95 crossed over on the Baldwin Bridge, not a single car could be seen. The highway was deserted. Beyond that, she could see steam rising off the salt water of Long Island Sound.

“What do we do now, Des?” Les wondered. “I can’t imagine Fulton’s Funeral Home will be able to make it up here today, can you?”

She turned and faced him and said, “Actually, you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself, Les. I have to phone this in first.”

“You do?” His eyes widened in surprise. “What for?”

“It’s a state law. Norma didn’t die in the presence of a physician. She was unattended. That makes hers what they call an untimely death. It’s just a formality, but I have to report it to my commanding officer. Also the medical examiner.”

“The medical examiner?” Now Les looked truly aghast. “They’re not going to cut her open, are they?”

“I highly doubt that. Not if Dr. Lavin confirms that her death wasn’t unexpected. But that’s entirely up to the medical examiner. His people will have to come up here and take a look at her. Road conditions being what they are, Norma may have to stay put for a while. Why don’t you move some of your things into another room? I need to close this one up.”

“Whatever you say,” Les said woodenly, getting up slowly out of his chair. “But I’m going to join the others down in the taproom right now, if you don’t mind. I can’t stay in here with her any longer.”

“That’s fine, Les. By the way, did you tidy Norma up before the rest of us came in?”

“I did. I wanted her to look nice. Is that okay? I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“Not at all. I was just curious. Go ahead and go downstairs with the others.”

Once he’d left, Des got busy on her cell phone. As she’d suspected, Norma wasn’t going anywhere for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Connecticut was officially locked down, its highways and roads closed to all but emergency vehicles. Most residents were still without power. Phone service was spotty. All of this plus the bright blue morning sky was merely a cruel tease-the National Weather Service was still predicting that same six to ten inches of snow later in the morning.

First Selectman Bob Paffin told her that the Center School emergency shelter was up and running, complete with food, cots, blankets and kerosene heaters. Three hundred very cold people were already making use of the facility. Members of Dorset’s volunteer fire department and ambulance corps were making sure that anyone else who needed to get there could do so. Des gave him the names of Mitch’s three elderly charges. Bob assured her they’d be seen to. Des was pleased that folks in Dorset were so on top of things. And damned frustrated that she couldn’t be with them, pitching in.

She tried calling Bella again. This time she got a ring instead of a busy signal. Also a thick, drowsy “Wha…?” from the other end of the crackly line.

“Girl, I don’t mean to be a Jewish mother,” Des said, greatly relieved to hear her friend’s sleepy voice, “but you don’t call, you don’t write, nothing.”

“Everything is fine, tattela,” Bella assured her, yawning. “The house is fine, I’m fine. Although I must tell you that I am not alone in this bed.”

“Shut up! Who’s…?”

“All five cats are under these covers with me.”

“Oh, I see,” Des said, smiling.

“I find this very intimate, also lumpy. And, feh, I have someone’s tail in my face. Spinderella, move over, will you? Where are you, Desiree?”

“Stranded up at the castle. The way things look, I may never get out of here. When did you lose power?”

“About nine o’clock. And, believe me, we were very, very lucky. A big oak came down right next door and flattened George’s sun porch. But don’t worry about a thing. I can make a fire, and I’ve got enough brisket to feed the entire block. We’re okay here.”

“Bella, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a while. And I sure can use it.”

“Desiree, I don’t like what I’m hearing from you. Are you okay?”

“Aside from the fact that our hostess died in the night, I’m just dandy.”

“Who, Norma? What happened?”

“Heart attack.”

“My God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.” Bella paused, clearing her throat. “From your tone of voice, I was thinking it might be something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like that other matter we discussed, regarding a certain Semitic gentleman who shall remain nameless. Mitch Berger is who I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, I kind of caught that.”

“Nu? How are you two?”

“Okay, I guess. Maybe you were right. Maybe this stuff’s all in my own mind.”

“And what does that tell you about yourself?”

“That I’m a whack job, totally demented.” Which she totally wasn’t. There was still something heavy going on with him. She’d felt it the second he’d made with his Great Big Fat Nothing Gulp in bed last night. Just as she’d felt her own sheer desperation when they’d made love together, her hunger for him so insatiable that she’d nearly bounced the big guy off the ceiling. “But, hey, we already knew that about me,” she put in dryly, hearing the creak of a floorboard out in the hallway.

Teddy Ackerman stood there in the doorway in his topcoat, looking pale, teary-eyed and utterly grief-stricken.

“I have to go now, Bella. I’ll see you as soon as I can. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too, tattela.”

“How can I help you, Teddy?” she asked him as she rang off.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here,” Teddy snuffled, swiping at his eyes. “I just wanted to say good-bye to Norma.”

“Come right on in.”

He sat on the edge of the chair by the bed and reached for Norma ‘s cold dead hand, gripping it. Outside, Des could still hear the whine of Jase’s chain saw.

“You two knew each other a long time, didn’t you?” she said, studying him.

“Forty years,” Teddy said quietly, gazing at Norma. “That’s how long I’ve loved her. I’ve always loved her. You see, I’m…” He hesitated, glancing up at Des uncertainly. “I’m the one who met her first, not Big Paul… I’d dropped out of City College. Was bumming my way around Europe, playing the piano for my keep. Not a care in the world.” The words were starting to tumble out now. Teddy needed to talk, to tell someone. “Ada and Luther were living in London in those days. That’s where I first met Norma. She was home visiting them for the summer. She’d just finished her second year at Barnard. A buddy of mine back in New York told me to look her up because she’d grown up in London, knew the place. She was… She was the kindest girl I’d ever met. Not the prettiest. There were always prettier girls. But none sweeter. We spent that summer together in London. When she headed back to school in New York come fall, I followed her. Took classes again myself. Thought about getting my degree, making a life with her. I was going to marry this girl, Des. I even invited her to lunch one day to meet my big brother, the crusading young ACLU lawyer.” Teddy paused, swallowing. “The girls always took to Paul. He had those broad shoulders and that curly black hair. I’ll never forget when she walked into that restaurant and saw him for the first time. And he saw her. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other, Des. From that moment on, I knew she wasn’t going to be my girl any longer. She was going to be Paul’s. Two weeks after she graduated, she became his wife.”

Des found herself studying Norma, trying to see her as Teddy obviously still saw her-not as a jowly, gray-haired older woman but as a lively, smooth-cheeked young girl. She couldn’t see it. Hadn’t been there, hadn’t known her. “Did you ever tell Paul how you felt?”

Teddy heaved a sigh of regret. “No, I bowed out very graciously-told him she and I were just good friends and the coast was clear. There was no point in doing otherwise. You can’t stand in the way of such things. Besides, Paul made a better husband than I ever could have. No one ever knew how I really felt. Aside from Norma, that is,” he said, gazing at her lovingly. “She always knew. I’ve never married. Never even had a steady girl. My mother needed taking care of. At least that’s always been my excuse. The real reason was Norma. We had a bond. We were soul mates. No other woman could ever come close to her in my eyes. The two of us…” Teddy’s mouth tightened. “I wouldn’t want this to get back to Les, but she and I had been in touch a lot lately.”

Des kept her face a blank. “I see…”

“We talked on the phone almost every day. Sent each other e-mails. And she came into the city whenever she got a day to herself. We’d spend a few stolen, glorious hours together. She’d listen to me play. I always played “More Than You Know” for her. She loved that song. It was our song. I made a tape of myself playing it and gave it to her so she could listen to it here. She told me she listened to it often.”

“Teddy, how was her state of mind lately?”

“Not good,” he said. “She was unhappy with her marriage. Les had lost interest in her. She put it all on herself, of course. Felt she was no longer desirable, as if such a thing could be possible.”

“Is Les seeing someone else?”

“Apparently. But don’t ask me who the other woman is, because Norma wouldn’t tell me. She wasn’t the type to gossip. Took no pleasure in it. She was too busy looking out for others. She never looked out for herself. That’s the truly tragic part of all of this, Des. You see, last night it was finally, at long last, going to happen.”

“What was, Teddy?”

“We’d never made love together. Beyond a few furtive kisses in taxicabs, we’d never done anything about how we felt. Too damned proper. But we’d talked it through and agreed that she was going to come to my room last night, once Les had fallen asleep.”

Des wondered if Ada knew about this. Wondered if this was what the shrewd old bird wanted to talk to her about.

“She assured me Les would never notice. Once he’s out, he’s out. She told me she often got up in the night without disturbing him. Norma was not a sound sleeper. The responsibility of running this place weighed on her, I think. She often made herself a cup of hot cocoa in the night and sat up in the taproom, reading John O’Hara. Her favorite novel of his was Ten North Frederick. She must have read it twenty times.” Teddy cast a sidelong glance at the book on Norma’s nightstand. It was a rather worn hardcover, missing its dust jacket. “I gave her that copy of it last year. It’s not the least bit valuable, but I’d like it back if you don’t mind. For personal reasons.”

Des studied him. He seemed anxious about this. Exceedingly so. “I’d rather not disturb anything just yet.”

“Of course. As you wish.” Teddy looked back at Norma and said, “I sat up all night waiting for her. I waited and I waited. It was supposed to happen, Des. The one thing Tve yearned for my entire adult life. Norma in my arms. Norma mine, all mine. Only, it never did. She never came to my door. I… I was crushed. Disappointed beyond belief. You can’t even imagine.”

Des looked at this thin, pale man in his topcoat, thinking she felt sorrier for him than she’d felt for anyone in a long time. “What did you think when she didn’t show?”

“That she’d changed her mind about me,” he said morosely. “The only other possibility I could think of was that Les hadn’t fallen into his usual deep slumber, what with this storm and all. Maybe he was up and down, feeding the fireplaces. As it turns out, I was wrong on both counts.”

“Did you know she had heart trouble?”

“I did,” he replied. “Although it was my own feeling that there was nothing physically wrong with her.”

“Les said her doctor wanted to operate.”

“Doctors always want to operate. That doesn’t mean they’re right. It’s simply all they know. I know better. I know that Norma loved me. I know that she died of a broken heart. I will go to my own grave knowing that.”

Outside, the chain saw ceased. Male voices hollered to each other briefly, then it fell silent in the dead woman’s room. Eerily so.

“Teddy, may I ask you something that’s none of my business?”

He looked up at her curiously. “What is it?”

“If you were so in love with Norma, then why did you let Les move in on her after Paul died? Why didn’t you marry her yourself?”

“That’s a fair question,” he admitted. “The simple answer is that she’d already gotten married again-to Astrid’s Castle. And I could never fit in up here. I’m a no-good bum of a piano player. I drink too much, gamble away every penny I make. I could never be an innkeeper, coping day and night with other people’s problems, always keeping a smile on my face. No, Les was the right man for her. And they were right for each other, or at least they were for a time. He’s just a guy who can’t stay married to the same woman for long. Norma was his third wife.”

“Does he have children?”

“I believe so, with his second wife. She lives outside of the city somewhere. Nyack, maybe.” Teddy stared down at the love of his life, his eyes filling with tears. “But the honest answer to your question is that you’re absolutely right-I should have made my move after Paul passed. Grabbed on to this woman and never let her go. But I couldn’t. I… I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Teddy?”

“That it would turn out badly. That I couldn’t cut it. I lacked the courage, Des. And that’s my single greatest regret. Because we all die in the end. Everybody dies. It’s the one sure bet we’ve got going. And if you haven’t gone after what you want, who you want, if you haven’t really, really tried…” Teddy trailed off, his chest rising and falling. “Then you’ve never really lived at all.”