The Stand

“She’s in bed today,” Peter said. “She finally agreed to let Tom Edmonton take a look at her.”

“Has he been yet?”

“He just left. He thinks she’s got the flu.”

“Oh, Lord,” Fra

“No, it isn’t.” He paused. “I told him everything, Fra

“Flu made who,” Fran said bleakly.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind,” Fran said. Her father was amazingly broadminded, but an AC/DC fan he was not. “Go on.”

“Well, there’s not much further to go, hon. He said there’s a lot of it around. A particularly nasty breed. It seems to have migrated out of the south, and New York is swamped with it.”

“But sleeping in the parlor all night—” she began doubtfully.

“Actually, he said being in an upright position was probably better for her lungs and her bronchial tubes. He didn’t say anything else, but Alberta Edmonton belongs to all the organizations Carla belongs to, so he didn’t have to. Both of us knew she’s been inviting something like this, Fran. She’s president of the Town Historical Committee, she’s spending twenty hours a week in the library, she’s secretary of the Women’s Club and the Lovers of Literature Club, she’s been ru

“How sick is she, Daddy?”

“She’s in bed, drinking juice and taking the pills that Tom prescribed. I took the day off, and Mrs. Halliday is going to come in and sit with her tomorrow. She wants Mrs. Halliday so they can work out an agenda for the July meeting of the Historical Society.” He sighed windily and lightning scratched the wire again. “I sometimes think she wants to die in harness.”

Timidly, Fran said: “Do you think she’d mind if I—”

“Right now she would. But give her time, Fran. She’ll come around.”

Now, four hours later, tying her rain scarf over her hair, she wondered if her mother would come around. Maybe if she gave up the baby, no one in town would ever get wind of it. That was unlikely, though. In small towns people scent the wind with noses of uncommon kee

She could feel guilt working in her as she pulled on her light coat. Her mother was run down, of course she was. Fran had seen that when she came home from college and the two of them exchanged kisses on the cheek. Carla had bags under her eyes, her skin looked too yellow, and the gray in her hair, which was always beauty-shop-neat, had progressed visibly in spite of the thirty-dollar rinses. But still…

She had been hysterical, absolutely hysterical. And Fra

The phone began to ring.

She looked at it blankly for a moment, and outside more lightning flickered, followed by a clap of thunder so close and vicious that she jumped, wincing.

Jangle, jangle, jangle.

But she had had her three calls, who else could it be? Debbie wouldn’t need to call her back, and she didn’t think Jess would, either. Maybe it was “Dialing for Dollars.” Or a Saladmaster salesman. Maybe it was Jess after all, giving it the old college try.

As she went to pick it up, she felt sure it was her father and that the news would be worse. It’s a pie, she told herself. Responsibility is a pie. Some of the responsibility goes with all the charity work she does, but you’re only kidding if you think you’re not going to have to cut a big, juicy, bitter piece for yourself. And eat every bite.

“Hello?”

There was nothing but silence for a moment and she frowned, puzzled, and said hello again.

Then her father said, “Fran?” and made a strange, gulping sound. “Fra

“Daddy? What is it? Is it Mom?”

“Fra

“Is Mom all right?” she screamed into the phone. Thunder whacked over the Harborside again and frightened her and she began to cry. “Tell me, Daddy!”

“She got worse, that’s all I know,” Peter said. “About an hour after I talked to you she got worse. Her fever went up. She started to rave. I tried to get Tom… and Rachel said he was out, that a lot of people were really sick… so I called the Sanford Hospital and they said their ambulances were out on calls, both of them, but they’d add Carla to the list. The list, Fra

“Calm down, Daddy. Calm down. Calm down.” She burst into tears again and her hand left the knot in her scarf and went to her eyes. “If she’s still there, you better take her yourself.”

“No… no, they came about fifteen minutes ago. And Christ, Fra

“Can you drive, Daddy? Can you drive over here?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, sure.” He seemed to be pulling himself together.

“I’ll be on the front porch.”

She hung up and went down the stairs quickly, her knees trembling. On the porch she saw that, although it was still raining, the clouds of this latest thundershower were already breaking up and late afternoon sun was beaming through. She looked automatically for the rainbow and saw it, far out over the water, a misty and mystic crescent. Guilt gnawed and worried at her, furry bodies inside her belly, in where that other thing was, and she began to cry again.

Eat your pie, she told herself as she waited for her father to come. It tastes terrible, so eat your pie. You can have seconds, even thirds. Eat your pie, Fra