sleeps like an angel. No dreams. Just blissful rest, with Geoff’s words echoing in her mind all night.
Friday afternoon comes around, sunny and glorious. Linda’s arranged to get out of work early, and Geoff has no Friday classes. So as soon as Josh is out of school for the day, Geoff swings by Linda’s apartment in his black Range Rover. Josh is in the back seat, already watching a video.
“Is that Spider-Man?” Linda asks. “Wasn’t that a great movie?”
They’d seen it together at the theater, she and Geoff and Josh. It was clear that the boy had loved the movie as he watched it. He was jumping up and down in his seat, laughing and calling out “Watch it!” whenever the Green Goblin would appear. But afterward, when Linda had asked him if he’d liked it, he just shrugged.
He does the same thing now, not making eye contact with Linda as she slides into the front seat. She sighs, looking over at Julia, who sits primly beside him, her gnarled hands folded in the black cloth of her lap.
“Hello, Julia,” Linda says.
“Miss Leigh.” The old woman nods.
“Well, the weather’s cooperating anyway,” Geoff says as he maneuvers his way into traffic, heading for the Massachusetts Turnpike. “It’s gonna be a spectacular weekend.”
“Sure looks that way,” Linda says, the irony not lost on her.
She lifts an eye to study the pair in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Josh is a pretty little boy, with long black eyelashes over big, round, intense blue eyes. He’s as blond as his father is dark, a constant reminder to all of them of his absent mother. He’s wearing a yellow-and-green striped shirt and red cargo pants, a colorful contrast to the old woman seated beside him. Julia is in her late sixties, a dour-faced woman with a maze of wrinkles lining her face, her dyed black hair pulled back severely in a bun. She wears a black dress and a white blouse. On her feet pink Nike sneakers seem incongruous, but she needs them to keep up with Josh.
The ride out to western Massachusetts is uneventful, the concrete of the city quickly giving way to green rolling hills. Josh is intent on his video, and Julia comes alive only to occasionally offer him a drink box of orange juice or a handful of granola. Up front, Linda and Geoff make small talk.
“You feeling better?” he asks.
“Much. Guess all I needed was a good night’s rest.”
“Jim called this morning to ask how you were.”
“Oh, Geoff, they must think I’m a total dingbat.”
“No, not at all. They were just worried.”
She shakes her head, looking out the window as they pass cornfields and cows grazing peacefully in the midmorning sun. “It just seemed so real,” she says. “The fire.”
“The fire?”
The voice startles her. It’s Josh, from the backseat.
“Did you see a fire?” the boy asks her.
It’s unusual for him to address anything to her, so she turns around to look at him kindly.
“It was just a dream, Josh. A silly dream.”
“I dreamed about fire, too,” he says.
“Hush, now, Joshua,” Julia tells him.
But the boy is persistent. “It was really hot. Fire everywhere. It was burning me up.”
Linda looks over at Geoff, who seems troubled. “Josh, why didn’t you tell me about this dream?” he asks.
“Dr. Manwaring,” Julia says, “it was just a child’s nightmare. I saw no reason to trouble you.”
“Did it frighten you, Josh?” Linda asks.
He doesn’t answer. He’s apparently decided that he’ll go no further in sharing any of his thoughts with Linda. He just settles back into watching Spider-Man.
“I had a similar dream,” Linda tells Julia. “Isn’t that peculiar?”
The old woman just shrugs. Linda turns around and faces front again.
“Here we are,” Geoff announces, and they pull into the driveway of their destination.
The Manwaring family is an old one in these parts. There’s a family tree etched onto the wall in the study, dating all the way back to Rafe de Mesnil Waring, a companion of William the Conqueror in the eleventh century. Geoff’s great, great-grandfather built this house in Sunderland in 1872. It’s been enlarged and remodeled many times since, but the exterior looks pretty much the same as it did more than a hundred years ago. It’s an early Victorian with three floors, two gables, and a central fireplace. Fifteen acres of wood and farmland stretch behind it, most of it overgrown and wild now. A flat, pristine lake, surrounded by pine trees, reflects the afternoon sun. Geoff, being an only child, inherited the estate when his father died, but now uses it only on the occasional weekend or during summer vacations.
“First thing we need to do is air the place out,” Julia says, walking around the living room and den, throwing open the windows.
Linda stifles a little surge of resentment. She acts as if she’s the wife here, as if she’s the mistress of the house. Julia has been with the family since soon after Josh was born, so she’s opened and closed this house numerous times, while Linda still feels like a guest.
“Then we need to pick some lilacs,” Julia announces, tousling Josh’s hair as the boy lugs in his backpack. “Oh, how your mother loved the scent of lilacs in this house.”
“I’ll go pick them!” Josh offers, suddenly alert at the mention of his mother.
The nanny looks over toward her employer. “Is that all right, Dr. Manwaring? The bushes are all in bloom.”
Geoff is carrying in folders of student papers he needs to work on over the weekend. “Sure. Maybe you could help him, Linda. Don’t let him pick too many.”
They exchange a look. It’s one of those moments they try to find where Linda can spend some quality “alone time” with Josh. She smiles.
“Not the white ones,” Julia tells her. “Only pick the purple lilacs.”
“Why not the white ones?” Linda asks. “I love white lilacs.”
The old woman stiffens. “Well, it’s just that—well, we only ever have purple—”
Linda smiles. “Then maybe it’s time for a change.”
She watches Julia’s face darken.
“Josh!” Linda calls. “Wait up!”
She follows the boy out the door.
They are beautiful. Dozens of lilac bushes line the driveway and the side of the house. Their fragrance is so strong it reminds Linda of the perfume counter at Macy’s. She sees several varieties of purple,
