A Thousand Acres_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [113]
She did well in school, too, especially in English and history and languages, and especially when there was just a little additive of performance to an exercise. She did not shine at all in science courses, especially those pivoting on experiments and lab reports. Even in her math classes, a proof she was asked to write on the board was always right, while she might make a careless error or two in the same proof, worked out painstakingly the night before in her homework.
I had such hope for her, such a strong sense that when we sent her out, in whatever capacity, she would perform well, with enthusiasm and confidence that were mysteriously hers alone. If we kept her home, she would languish, do badly, seem like nothing special. Caring for her changed from dressing her and feeding her and keeping her out of trouble to collaborating with her, supporting her plans. She talked readily to me about all sorts of things, it seemed, but mostly about the question, What next?
Rose and I always thought we’d done well with her, guiding her between the pitfalls and sending her out to success.
I washed my hands inside and went out and picked up the papers. They stated that my father had chosen to avail himself of the revocation clause in the preincorporation agreement, which stated that Rose’s and my shares in the farm were revocable under certain conditions of “mismanagement or abuse.” This was a phrase that I only dimly remembered reading in the original papers. I did remember Ty saying, “Well, Larry taught us to farm, and we farm just like he does, so I don’t see why we don’t let that stand.” I also remembered how eager I had been to get everything over with, how much I wanted to get to the door and see if Caroline had really driven away. The transfer hadn’t been an occasion I savored, had it?
Caroline joined my father in invoking the revocation clause. I supposed that I had to carry the papers into the house, but it was hard to do so, like swallowing something large and distasteful. I realized that I had forgotten to ask if Rose was to get a set of papers all her own, or if I had to tell her about them. That was what I shrank from, in the end, all the telling there was, followed by all the hearing. Mostly I saw Rose as my savior, showing me the way through this quagmire we had gotten into, but sometimes she affected me that barking dog way, never resting for all the alarms there were to sound. And the dog in me was one of those other, less alert but still excitable animals who couldn’t help joining in and barking with equal frenzy.
I read the papers and put them on the dining-room table for Ty, weighted down with his coffee cup. Something else not to talk about.
It was a hot day, but as I dialed the phone I began to shiver. When the receptionist at her office answered, it was all I could do to firm up my voice, which came out as if my teeth were chattering, which they were. I gripped the phone, determined that Caroline would take my call, but when she did, I was dumbstruck with surprise, and could only come out with, “Oh, hi.”
“Hi.”
“What’s going on?” These ways of speaking that were neither conciliatory nor tentative came roughly to my tongue exactly when a tone was needed that would not offend.
She said, “I should ask you that.”
“Maybe you should have asked me that before this. But what I want to know is more immediate. What’s this suit?”
“I can’t talk about that. If you want to talk about that, then I’ll have to hang up.”
I decided not to bring up the ingratitude part, just exactly because it drew me so, because the sound of her voice made it shine more and more brightly. I said, “You were out of this. It’s not your business.