His Whole Life by Elizabeth Hay

Author:Elizabeth Hay [Hay, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-68144-478-9
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2015-10-26T16:00:00+00:00

A few days later, in early December, Nan was walking home into a north wind with a heavy grocery bag in each hand when she noticed flecks of snow in the air—the first snow. She raised her eyes and saw the lake, cold and pure, black and white with winter. And maybe it was her years of living away, or maybe she was stuck in the past, but in her mind Lulu and Guy’s mutual hostility blended with the larger sadness of a country plagued by its own version of the Berlin Wall. She thought of Lulu spending Christmas alone, while Guy was a stone’s throw away, and she really could not stomach the waste and stupidity of it. In that moment she decided what to do and she picked up her pace. Once she got home she set down her bags inside the door and without taking off her coat went to the telephone. She found her little phone book and called.

“Guy? It’s Nan.”

His gruff voice slid from surprise to warmth, and they talked for a few minutes about themselves and George’s health and Ducky. And then she said, “Things are bad between you and Lulu.”

Silence descended on the line, until at last Guy said, “She’s the one who takes offence and lashes out. She started it. I didn’t.”

Nan fingered the little phone book, which had survived the end of her marriage, though John had taken other things that mattered to her, small personal possessions that she still missed. Nothing was ever entirely fair, especially with men who were sticklers for fairness.

Guy said again, “I didn’t start it.”

“But you can stop it,” she said evenly. “You can take the first step and talk to her.”

Beyond the window more snowflakes were flying about. A light sifting, blown this way and that.

“Guy?” she said, to ease the tension and because she wanted to know, “tell me if the lake has frozen over. I wanted to see it freeze.”

“O.K., Nan,” he said. And to her immense relief, his voice sounded normal again. “O.K. I’ll do what I can.”

He went on to tell her about the lake, how it had frozen over one night in mid-November making crazy noises as the thin ice cracked and echoed and twanged. “The water reaches a critical temperature,” he said, “and then the entire lake just flash-freezes. It thaws the same way, overnight. You would have been asleep when it happened.”

“Have you been walking on it?” She had never done that, never walked across the surface of the lake she swam in.

“Just in our bay. I never feel safe crossing the lake till around Christmas.” His tone changed again and he said, “Nan, you’re a good friend. I’ve missed you.”

She closed her eyes and smelled in memory the sweet smell of wood smoke that he carried about with him. It was hard being his sister, she thought, and it would be hard to be his wife.

“Well, we go back,” she said. “The three of us.”

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