“And the book,” Alice said. “It’s between you, your love, and the book.”
Madeline smiled. “And the book.”
She pulled the door shut behind them. The clock continued its ticking, hardly muted by the thick wood door. Madeline twisted the brass key she’d left in the keyhole, and the dial rotated once more, to sixty-nine. She plucked the key out of the lock, pressed the top button on the woman’s dress, and her leg sprang back into place, obscuring the keyhole as though it had never been there.
“Why do you lock it?” Alice asked.
Madeline slipped the key back into her pants pocket. “Did you lock your car when you arrived?”
“Of course.”
“You’re very fond of that phrase,of course. Of course you’re happy. Of course you lock your car. Why are these things so obvious? Why is it a given that you would lock your car here in the woods where it is just you and me? Do you think I’m going to break into your car and steal something?”
“Of—” Alice stopped herself. “No, I don’t think you’re going to steal anything from my car.”
“Perhaps you fear the bears will try to force their way inside, although if they’re determined a measly lock won’t stop them. No, not the bears? The deer then? Or perhaps a fox? They are pesky little fellas.”
Alice’s face grew hot. “It’s just habit,” she said feebly.
Madeline shook her head adamantly. “Habits are built from patterns that are built from active decisions. If something becomes a habit, it’s because you cultivated it. So I’ll ask you again. Why did you lock your car?”
“Because I love my car,” Alice said reflexively.
Madeline nodded. “You love it, and you want to know it’s all yours, that you’re the only one to touch it, even when it’s irrational to think anyone else would.” She gave Alice’s shoulder a squeeze before reporting that she would see Alice in the morning.
As the old woman shuffled down the hall, Alice retreated into the guest room across from the library. She kept the door open a crack and watched Madeline disappear into her own bedroom, the space beneath the door growing dark moments later. Alice remained poised in the doorway as the house descended into silence except for that steady clock. When she was confident Madeline was asleep, she creaked open her door and tiptoed across the hall to the library.
Her fingers grazed the heart-shaped doorknob, feeling its smoothness. She did not dare try to turn it, although if she did it wouldn’t budge. When she pushed the button on the woman’s dress, her leg sprang up just as it had for Madeline. Alice leaned toward the keyhole, the sliver of library beyond. All she could see was darkness. She stepped back and read the quote etched into doorplate at the bottom:Two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.The words sounded vaguely familiar, but Alice could not recall where she’d read them before.
She continued to stand outside the library, staring at the doorplate, listening to the grandfather clock inside tick away. Those books were more than just a library, Alice was certain of it.Active decisions become patterns—Madeline had said as much herself. In that library were patterns, arrangements that Alice did not yet recognize. Somewhere among those ordered shelves was the hardback book that Madeline had found in the park, the one that had led her to Gregory. Even if she’d gotten rid of Gregory’s books, she would never cast away the one that had cemented their love. Alice needed to discover why this particular title had the power to bind them together. Once she understood that, she might begin to identify what Madeline required from another love, another story.
Alice stepped away from the library door, pressing the button on the woman’s dress so her leg sprang back into place. The keyhole disappeared once more, but Alice knew what lay beyond it. She had to find that book.
10
Teachers
In the morning Alice awoke in a panic, uncertain where she was. She didn’t recognize the white room, the eyelet comforter pulled snugly over her body, the diaphanous curtains rustling in the wind from the open window. The air smelled sharply of pine, absent of the salt and brine that normally greeted her each morning. It was unforgivingly cold. When she exhaled, her breath rose in a plume. She sat up, and her head pounded from too much sleep or not enough. She looked down at her bare arms, goose pimpled, her body hidden under a cotton nightgown that did not belong to her. A shiver seized her, and she rose from the bed to close the window. Then she dressed in the clothes she’d worn the previous day and followed the smell of butter downstairs to the kitchen.
Madeline’s back was to the doorway as she stood over the stove, which gave Alice a moment to watch the old woman undetected. Perhaps it was the cavernous kitchen, but Madeline looked even smaller than she had the day before, childlike from behind, despite her sleek tuxedo pants, this time in emerald with a matching satin top. Her halo of white hair swayed slightly as she attended to something cooking over a high flame. The varicose veins along her ankles and bare feet ebbed and flowed like streams.
Madeline turned to find Alice watching her and smiled. She clicked off the burner and deftly tossed two sandwiches onto plates resting on the counter. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d passed in your sleep, and I was going to find a corpse in my guest room.”
“What time is it?” Alice asked.
“Lunchtime,” Madeline said as she swept past Alice with the plates. “You missed the morning walk. Fear not, the woods will be there tomorrow and the day after that.”
The two women ate lunch in the dining room where they’d first broken bread.
“So, my Alice,” Madeline said, taking an enormous bite. “Do I have the pleasure of your company today, or must you be getting back to your other stories?”
Alice had nearly forgotten about her other stories. When she was with Madeline, the others all seemed pedestrian in comparison to the challenge that lay before her here in the woods.
“I can stay for a bit,” Alice said. “Could we, would it be possible to visit your library again?”
“I suppose.” Madeline smiled, exposing bits of parsley caught between her two front teeth. “But one of the great indulgences of growing old is requiring a siesta. Can you entertain yourself for an hour while I recharge?”
Madeline hoisted herself from the table and stood shakily. Her eyes were glassy as she stifled a yawn. Alice let the old woman lean against her as she guided her upstairs to her bedroom.
