“How’s life so far this morning?” she said to David when he sat down at a table.
“Coffee, please, Dory. And a tuna sandwich — and I know it’s a bit early for lunch, but I was up early.”
“You look like you were up all night.”
“And a glass of water, please.” Dory put a cup of coffee and a glass of water on the table, then set about preparing the sandwich. “Dory, I don’t think I’m up to answering your ‘How’s life?’ question. Sorry.”
“Well, your face no longer resembles a Halloween mask. That’s optimistic.”
David noticed a paperback face-down on the counter. “What are you reading there?”
“Mr. Earl Stanley Gardner. A Perry Mason mystery. The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom. He wrote hundreds, and I’ve read dozens to date.”
“I remember the American TV program.”
“Nothing like the books,” Dory said. “The TV show, I watched it religiously. But it was always the same. They got to the trial as soon as possible, and then, five minutes before the end, some man or woman — and sometimes you hadn’t even seen this person before! — they’d stand up in the courtroom and cry out, ‘I did it!’ And Perry would turn those big dark owl eyes on that person and get an expression on his face, and there was only one possible way to interpret his expression: ‘I knew it was you all along!’ But like I said, I watched it religiously. And what do I mean by that? I mean had Perry Mason been broadcast on Sunday mornings, I would have chosen it over church.”
“Since I’ve known you,” David said, “you’ve always chosen not going to church, without any TV show conflicting.”
“That’s true too. But also I have my bakery open Sunday mornings. In case you hadn’t noticed. I provide for people after church. I’ve been told more than once it’s appreciated.”
Dory lived over the bakery. She once said to David, “I’m the only one in Parrsboro travels vertically to work.” He watched her make the sandwich, then looked out the window. The old-fashioned crank-down green-and-white-striped awning cast a shadow on the sidewalk. Dory brought over the sandwich, went back behind the counter. After taking a few bites, David noticed Dory staring at him. “What is it, Dory?” he said.
“Would you please tell me how William’s doing?”
“Sit down with me a minute.”
Dory stepped around the counter and sat across from David. “Thanks for the invitation,” she said.
“William is much improved,” David said. “Last doctor’s report was excellent. He’s singing along with his opera records.”
“Dead opera singers turning in their graves, I imagine.”
“My father-in-law doesn’t have much of a voice. But considering that after the accident he wasn’t much more than a bullfrog with laryngitis—”
“What a thing, that accident. What a thing.”
“I won’t ask you, Dory, what you know of all that. Let’s just say I’m aware Naomi Bloor stops into the bakery on a regular basis.”
“Did you conjoin with that Czechoslovak woman or not?”
“God, you are a direct person, aren’t you?”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes, before Maggie and I were married. No, after.”
Dory reached over and took a sip of David’s coffee. “Before is before. After would’ve been entirely different, eh?”
“Dory—”
“Sandwich bad?”
“No, it’s fine. Dory — William told me. About you and him.”
“When?”
“When I was in the hospital. We were looking at Field family photograph albums. There were photographs of you in them. One subject led to another. I was getting morphine.”
“I’d’ve asked for morphine myself, hearing that news. So now you understand why I wasn’t invited to the wedding. At least I got to bake the cake. That meant the world to me.”
“Anyway—”
“I bet William didn’t tell you, when Maggie called him out and she and Janice left for Halifax, William shot six swans with his father’s shotgun from Scotland.”
“That can’t be true, Dory, the way he regards those swans.”
“True as we’re sitting here. I’d seen Maggie and Janice drive past about five-thirty that awful day. I locked up the bakery and drove right over to try and iron things out with William. Just when I arrived to the estate, I heard the blasts, got out of my car and set out for the pond. William walked right past me like I was a ghost. I went down to the pond and saw the swans floating dead. One, two, three, four, five, six. Counting them was the most convenient response, I guess, before the deeper truth of it set in.”
Dory closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to clear it, then opened her eyes, brimmed with tears.
“You want me to sit with you awhile?” David said.
“No. No, I’ve got my paperback. Coffee and sandwich are on me, please. Water’s always gratis.”
David left the bakery.
Maggie made another visit on October 25. Midafternoon, David looked through the kitchen window and saw William drive off in the truck. Maggie appeared on the lawn shortly after. David had drunk several cups of coffee after eating a cheese sandwich, and his head was buzzing a little. He quickly got his lens adjusted and was about to photograph Maggie as she carried a towel to the pond, but he stopped and said to himself, “How many photographs of the same thing do I need?” Maggie swam at one end of the pond, with the unperturbed swans at the other. When she emerged, toweled off and walked up the slope, David was entirely unprepared for what happened next. Maggie stopped about twenty-five feet from the kitchen window. Bending with stilted gracefulness, she slipped out of her bathing suit and stood naked, looking directly at David. She placed her hands on her belly. Her breasts were fuller now; her face was fuller; her very spirit seemed fuller to David. His wife was an enthralling vision; he felt bereft of touch. He set the camera down and stared. He’s without a clue — still taking my directive, she thought, when he should come out of the house and hold me. Maggie stood for a moment longer and then, towel wrapped around her, holding the suit, walked to the main house.
On October 27, late in the morning, David drove to Truro General Hospital for a final set of x-rays, which revealed that his jaw had completely healed. When he got back to the estate, he saw the postal service van just leaving. He parked the truck in front of the main house. “Hey, David,” William called from the porch. “I want to show yon something.” David walked over. “The mail brought you good news the other day. Now it’s brought me good news. How about that?”
“You referring to the letter you’ve got in your hand?”
“It’s from Mr. Reginald Aston.”
“Ah, the Queen’s swankeeper.”
“The fellow you broke my appointment with, correct. We’ve been back in correspondence for two months, give or take. But David, I need to ask you something. When I was half dead in the streets of London, what did I say? I remember saying something.”
“‘Tell Mr. Aston I’ll be late.’”
“I said that?”
“Word for word.”
“When I first wrote him, I made my excuses. His reply proved he isn’t a man above accepting an apology. He asked after my health. And now he’s confirmed a new appointment.”
“You’ll tell Maggie, I guess.”
“Right away.”
“She’ll be very happy for you.”
“Of course, I’ll wait till the child’s born before flying to London.”
William began to read the letter again. As David walked off, William said, “I’ve set a tape recorder on your kitchen table. Margaret asked me to. You’ll probably want to hear what’s on it.”