The Point of Vanishing Maryka Biaggio (hardest books to read TXT) 📖

it could do to say anything.

He leaned forward and braced his hands on his knee tops—as if his manner were all the medicine she needed. “Your mother did tell me how distressed you are about your father leaving.”

“Don’t you think any girl who’s lost her father would be distressed?”

“Unquestionably. I’d think something was wrong if she weren’t.”

“And I suppose Mother wants you to make me all sunny again.”

Dr. Lowry sat back and smoothed his hands together. “I wish that were in my power. But I can only try to understand.”

Barbara dropped her head and bit her bottom lip. The room’s scents of Lysol, iodine, and whatever else made her sinuses ache. She didn’t like being here, but she couldn’t think where she’d rather be.

Dr. Lowry angled his head, trying to catch her eye. “I am concerned, Barbara. About you drawing things like crossed daggers and dripping swords.”

“That was meant only for Gordon, my companion on the high seas. It’s just pirate language.”

“Yes, but it’s rather gruesome, don’t you think?”

“Mother says blood is perfectly natural.”

“I expect she’s referring to your menses. Yes, that is natural. You’re growing into a woman.”

“I can’t help that.”

Dr. Lowry clasped his hands and leaned toward her. “Of course not. But what concerns me is the meaning of these drawings. I wonder if you’re thinking about doing something drastic.”

“Like what?”

“Sometimes, when people are upset, they try to escape. For instance, by running away.”

“I’d certainly like to escape my hellish family situation. My parents are being mean and selfish, thinking only of themselves and turning their backs on Sabra and me.”

“I’m sure that, at some point, your father will reestablish ties with you.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“You’re his daughter. He loves you.”

“My father has betrayed me. I believed he’d always be there to inspire me. If I can’t rely on him, how can I rely on anybody?

“I don’t blame you for being hurt, but you mustn’t let that ruin your life. You have other things to live for, don’t you?”

“He’s been my inspiration, my companion on the hiking trail, the editor for my books. Those are the things I live for.”

“I’m sure your mother can do all those things for you until your father is back in your life.”

“No, she can’t. That’s not how it is with Mother and me.”

“I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.”

“You can’t very well bring my father back or mend their marriage.”

“No, I can’t. Only your parents can determine what will happen to their marriage.”

“They’ve behaved like spoiled children.”

“You mustn’t blame them. There are mysteries to marriage that elude even husbands and wives.”

“But I do blame them.” Barbara jutted her jaw and tilted her head back. “It’s simply nightmarish how my father has behaved.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s difficult to understand.”

“Why should I try to understand such revolting behavior?”

“You should at least understand your reaction to it.”

“I don’t see why. I’m not the one causing the problem.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Lowry brushed his brow and then showed a palm. “What would you like to have happen?”

“I’d like my father to realize how terribly wrong he is and come back and make it all up to us.”

“Have you told him this?”

“I told him he wasn’t making sense, that he’s deluding himself.” She might as well reveal all the awful details. “Miss Whipple visited and tried to convince us she could make him happy, so I wrote him she’s not an honorable person, and he shouldn’t take up with someone who would come between him and his family.”

“Then you’ve done what you could. It must be awful for you—waiting and hoping and hearing nothing.”

Dang it, she felt worse now than she had before. “Perhaps you should speak to my father.”

Dr. Lowry stroked a finger over his chin for a moment. “I can only do that if he seeks me out. And even then, I can’t tell him how to live his life.”

“Just telephone him. Tell him how ridiculous he’s being. What a fool he’s making of himself.”

“I’m not in the business of offering advice when it’s not asked for.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

Dr. Lowry patted his fingertips together. “I’m offering an ear because I’m concerned. If there’s anything I can do, I’d like to. Sometimes talking about our unhappiness helps.”

“I really don’t see how. You’re a doctor, and you can’t or won’t try to convince my father to come back to the family. And my mother can’t, either. So, you see, I’m all alone. None of you grown-ups can help in the most important and essential way. Why should I trust any of you?”

“Because we care.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see what good all this talk is.”

Dr. Lowry leaned toward her, cupping his hands over his knees and stiffening his arms. “Tell me, what was the last thing you did that gave you sheer joy?”

“Sailed to Nova Scotia on a square-rigger. But that was before my father left us.”

“Ah, so sailing’s the thing for you?”

“Why, yes.” She looked up at him. Her stomach fluttered. “That it is.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

HELEN

New Haven, July–August 1928

Helen cringed at the thick envelope addressed in Wilson’s craggy handwriting. Might he be abandoning his ludicrous position that she be the one to grant him the “freedom to divorce”? Had he hired an attorney to draw up divorce papers? She elbowed the mailbox closed, tucked the envelope into her apron pocket, and marched up the walkway.

“No,” she said upon meeting Barbara’s searching eyes, “nothing in the mail for you. Why don’t you take Sabra out to play so I can finish the canning in peace.”

The screen door swung shut on Barbara and Sabra. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she shoved the pile of green beans aside and tore the envelope open.

Dear Helen, the letter began. I will not drivel on with empty niceties before announcing the news I must lamentably convey. I have lost my job at Knopf.

My God, not this. If only it’d been divorce papers. Those she could have burned. She clamped a hand