The Red Garden - Alice Hoffman [57]
After the curtain call, the children in the drama society trotted out to take a bow and their teacher, Grace Campbell, thanked the town for their continuing support even in these dark days of war. Then it was time for the players from New York. They were nearly unrecognizable in their costumes. James was a swashbuckler who recited bits of Shakespeare. Abbey was dressed in swirling, filmy white. She’d taken on the persona of Emily Dickinson, thanks to the information Hannah had provided. Stan and James presented a comic skit about Johnny Appleseed. People roared when Johnny didn’t know the difference between a seed and a stone. Then Charlotte came onstage. She played the part of the town founder with a Spanish accent, clearly undertaken so that the skit could end with a tango danced by Charlotte and James. The acting had been mediocre, but the dance was something much more. Slinky and erotic and wholly absorbing. Music from a record player drifted over the meadow, and as the couple danced, the darkness became blue and deep. It was easy to forget there was a stage, or that this was still Blackwell. People left their lives at that moment, imagining they were in Spain, under a starry sky. Beneath the tree, in the gathering dark, Hannah felt entranced.
When the performance was over, she waited for the crowd to clear, then found her way to the back of the stage. The only one there was Grace Campbell, packing up costumes and props. Hannah’s disappointment must have shown in her face when she realized Charlotte and the others were gone.
“If you’re looking for the actors, they’ve just left,” Grace told her. “I warned them the Eel River wasn’t a place for night swimming, but they wouldn’t listen. That’s where they’ve gone.”
Hannah made her way toward the river. She’d been invited, after all. She slipped off her sandals and carried them in her hand. It was easier to make her way barefoot. After a while she heard them on the riverbank. She peered through the dark and saw them as they began to strip off their clothes. They were still wearing their costumes, and they looked like strangers, clothed and then unclothed.
“Thank God that’s over,” she heard James say.
“Small towns and small people,” Charlotte crooned, slipping off her black lace dress.
The men leapt into a deep pool, shouting at the cold.
“Holy mother of God,” James Scott cried. “It’s pure ice.”
“Will you miss your little friend?” Hannah heard Abbey ask Charlotte.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Charlotte said.
Charlotte waded into the water now, up to her knees. Abbey followed suit.
“Don’t give me that,” Abbey protested. “You think I don’t know you by now?”
“She wasn’t so little,” Charlotte remarked. “She was taller than I.”
The women laughed and waded farther. There were mosquitoes and gnats, which they slapped away, hitting their own naked bodies. Together they dove right in.
In the dark, standing in the tall weeds, Hannah felt her heart bumping against her chest. What would happen if she ran to the river? What if she threw her arms around Charlotte, packed up all her worldly belongings? Before she could think any further, she spied a spot of blue moving along the riverbank. It was a little girl, heading toward the water. She was there, and then she disappeared, as if swallowed by the dark river.
Hannah ran toward the far bank. People had faltered here, carried away by the currents, but thankfully Hannah was a strong swimmer. She went right in, chasing after the child, but no one was there. The blue dress Hannah wore spread out in a circle as she paddled to stay afloat, shivering. All at once she knew what had happened. She felt she had witnessed a miracle, a moment so private it could never be shared. Hannah could hear the actors joking with each other, but she didn’t listen to what they were saying. She was convinced she had seen the Apparition, the child who’d drowned so long ago.
WHEN AZURINE CAME home that autumn, Hannah went to the train station in Albany to pick up her sister. Azurine had been gone a long time, and she