That Summer Page 6
MARGARET
Paul!
PAUL
All right – Lou Gehrig.
MARGARET
Lucky guess.
They kiss.
Lights fade on the churchyard.
NARRATOR
That afternoon, Daisy decided to seek Mrs. Crump’s help in winning back Tim. Since we were leaving the next morning, there wasn’t much time. Mrs. Crump had many tricks up her sleeve. Many ways of making a young girl irresistible … Like the apple of love, for instance.
Lights rise on the yard … JACK sits in a folding chair, reading Life magazine. MRS. CRUMP and DAISY are in conversation, DAISY taking notes.
MRS. CRUMP
First off, you go into an orchard just before sunrise and pick an apple. Not just any apple, either. Has to be the most beautiful apple on the tree.
DAISY
I don’t have time to be fussy, Mrs. Crump. We’re getting an early start, remember?
JACK
She’s only seeing Tim for a few minutes tonight. That is, if she can find him.
MRS. CRUMP
In that case, use a store-bought apple. The spell won’t be as strong, that’s all.
DAISY
Then what?
MRS. CRUMP
Then write your name and Tim’s on a piece of white paper – in blood.
JACK
Mrs. Crump.
MRS. CRUMP
I’m only telling her what to do, Jack. She doesn’t have to do it … (to DAISY) Next, take a second piece of paper and write the word “FOREVER” on it. In capital letters.
DAISY
“FOREVER”?
MRS. CRUMP
“FOREVER” … Place the two pieces of paper face to face, roll them together, and tie the roll with three hairs from your head and three hairs from Tim’s.
DAISY
Where am I supposed to get three hairs from Tim’s head?
JACK
Ask to use his pocket comb.
MRS. CRUMP
Next, cut the apple in two, remove the core, and fold it in the paper. Then you join the two halves together with a rusty nail.
JACK
A rusty nail?
DAISY
Have you ever seen this work, Mrs. Crump? Even once?
MRS. CRUMP
I’m not finished yet … Dry the apple in the oven, then wrap it in laurel and myrtle leaves.
DAISY
Oh right. I just happen to have laurel and myrtle leaves.
MRS. CRUMP
Lastly, you slip the apple of love under Tim’s bed. Then you wait.
JACK
How does she go about that, Mrs. Crump? Slipping the apple of love under Tim’s bed?
MRS. CRUMP
That’s up to her, Jack. I only know the steps to follow. (to DAISY) But just you watch, luv. In no time flat, he’ll be prancing under your window, an orchid in one hand, his heart in the other.
MARGARET enters, carrying the whisky bottle.
MARGARET
I don’t know, Mrs. Crump. All that sounds pretty complicated to me. Doesn’t it to you, Dad? …
She pours whisky into JACK’s glass.
NARRATOR
I thought I was being so clever, pouring Dad drinks. A few more, and he’d be out for the night. Then I could make my escape to the churchyard, and the long night ahead.
MARGARET
Dad, why don’t you tell Mrs. Crump how you and Mom first got together. Bet she’d find it amusing.
JACK
Mrs. Crump doesn’t want to hear that, Margaret.
MRS. CRUMP
Why don’t you let Mrs. Crump be the judge of that?
DAISY
Well, I’d like to hear it again … It was Babe Ruth who lit a fire under you, wasn’t it, Dad?
JACK
Sure was.
MRS. CRUMP
The baseball player?
JACK
That was 1935, the year the Detroit Tigers won the World Series.
MARGARET
Dad tried out for the Boston Braves that year, Mrs. Crump. That’s how he met the Bambino. The Yankees had dropped Ruth in February, after 21 seasons. Imagine: the Sultan of Swat. 714 home runs.
JACK
To me, the Babe was baseball. He also liked bridge, cigars, kids, Seagram’s whisky, and women.
DAISY
Especially women.
JACK
One day, he nudges me in the dugout. He was terrible with names. Couldn’t remember names or faces to save himself … “Kid,” he says, “you see that little gal over there by the fence? The one who can’t keep her eyes off you?” And he spat some tobacco juice. “Well, let me tell you, kid. That’s one helluva nice-looking gal, and if you don’t hurry up and say hello to her, by God, I will.”
MARGARET
Dad had noticed her before. He just didn’t have the nerve to do anything.
DAISY
The Babe scared you spitless, didn’t he, Dad? You thought he was serious.
JACK
Sure did … After the game, I walked straight to your mom and introduced myself. Asked her if she’d have dinner with me … So you see, Mrs. Crump, if it hadn’t been for George Herman Ruth, these two wouldn’t be here today, pestering us both half to death.
DAISY
Times were simpler then, Dad. Life’s not like that anymore.
MRS. CRUMP
Life’s what you make of it, Daisy … But look, if the apple of love’s not suitable, I have just the thing. Take a small piece of red cloth and lock yourself in a dark room.
DAISY
Red cloth. A dark room.
MRS. CRUMP
Sit there and imagine Tim’s face. While you’re doing that, draw a heart on the cloth.
DAISY
This is a lot easier, Mrs. Crump.
MRS. CRUMP
Finally, roll the red cloth into a ball and tuck it into your left armpit. Keep it there the whole time you’re with him tonight. Think you can remember that?
DAISY
It’s burned into my brain … Thanks, Mrs. Crump. I’ll let you know what happens.
She hugs her.
MRS. CRUMP
You do that, luv.
DAISY, excited, exits.
JACK
(rises) Think I’ll go inside. It’s getting chilly out here … (to MRS. CRUMP) Suppose we’ll see you in the morning. The girls will want to say goodbye.
MRS. CRUMP
They could stay with me, you know, Jack. It wouldn’t put me out one bit. There’s plenty of room.
MARGARET
And I didn’t tell her to say that, Dad.
MRS. CRUMP
They’d be perfectly safe here. I could put them on the train when the time comes. They’re old enough now to travel by themselves.
JACK
I want the girls in Maine for the month of August. So does Sally.
MARGARET
Dad, we’ve never been on a train before, Daisy and me. It’d be fun.
JACK
Forget it, I said.
MRS. CRUMP
All right, Jack, you’re the boss. I’m sure both you and Sally know what you’re doing.
JACK
Does anyone ever know? … Someone once asked the Babe for his theory of hitting. He said, “I just hit what they throw me.” Life’s a lot like that, don’t you think? …
He exits.
MRS. CRUMP
(beat) Well, I tried.
MARGARET
I know. Thanks, anyway.
MRS. CRUMP
And don’t ever tell your dad about that spell I gave you and Paul. He’d have a stroke.
MARGARET
I won’t. I promise … I’m glad you’re on our side now, Mrs. Crump.
MRS. CRUMP
Maybe Paul just needed to meet the right girl.
Pause.
A penny for your thoughts, luv.
MARGARET
I don’t know
. I guess I was thinking of the summer. How wonderful it’s been. I met you. I met Paul … Are all summers special like this?
MRS. CRUMP
All time is special, Margaret. There’s so little of it … As for people … Well, there are those who simply fade from memory. And those who become a part of us forever.
MARGARET
Like you and Matthew?
MRS. CRUMP
Yes, like Matt and me … For years, you know, I dreamt of him. Even after he died, I kept his picture under my pillow. That’s supposed to make you dream of the person in the photo … The last time he appeared in my dreams was many years ago. The last time, that is, till just the other night.
MARGARET
You dreamt of him again?
MRS. CRUMP
I saw him so clearly, too. He was waving to me from across a shining river. It was such a lovely dream, and I woke up so happy.
Lights fade on the yard.
DAISY
See you later, alligator.
MARGARET
In a while, crocodile.
NARRATOR
So, Daisy ran off to look for Tim, the ball of red cloth tucked next to her heart. I waited till Dad had passed out … The full moon was shining, and I ran up the road in its light, so excited I thought I’d die, up toward the church, its white steeple rising above the black trees.
Music: “Sleep Walk” by Santo & Johnny.
NARRATOR
As I approached the churchyard, I could see Paul’s old Buick parked beside the fence. I could hear “Sleep Walk” playing softly on the car radio.
Lights rise on the churchyard … PAUL waits beside the white birch. MARGARET runs on, and for a moment, they take each other in.
PAUL
Gosh, you look lovely.
MARGARET
I do? I almost forgot to brush my hair … I didn’t think Dad would ever pass out.
PAUL
I thought maybe you wouldn’t show up.
MARGARET
I thought you wouldn’t.
PAUL
Are you kidding? I’ve already carved our initials in the tree. Just the way you asked me to.
MARGARET
It’s perfect, Paul. The birch is young. The knife is new … Know what we’re supposed to do next?
PAUL
What?
MARGARET
We’re supposed to bury the knife under the tree. Then make love on that exact spot.
PAUL
Sounds like an excellent idea to me.
MARGARET
Mrs. Crump says if you follow all four steps, our love will last a long, long time. Maybe forever. Oh, Paul, I’m so happy.
PAUL
Are you, Maggie?
They kiss.
MARGARET
Look, Paul! Look! (points at the sky) Isn’t that Sputnik?
PAUL
Sputnik? Where?
MARGARET
There. It’s almost over the church. A pinpoint of white light. Look how it’s moving among the stars.
PAUL
One hundred and fifty miles up. Eighteen thousand miles an hour.
MARGARET
Doesn’t seem to be moving fast at all, does it?
PAUL
Orbits the earth every ninety-six minutes.
MARGARET
It’s like an omen, Paul. I know it.
PAUL
You’re beginning to sound like Mrs. Crump.
MARGARET
Remember that night on the dock? You said the world we live in had changed … I believe you now, Paul. Suddenly the world seems as new to me as that moon up there. Bright and shiny, like a new dime.
PAUL
(recites “Willie Brew’d a Peck O’ Maut” by Robbie Burns)
It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That’s blinkin’ in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she’ll wait a wee.
MARGARET removes the ring MRS. CRUMP gave her.
Lights fade on the churchyard.
NARRATOR
That night, Paul and I made love. Right on the spot he’d buried the pocket knife. Then he found a Jack Scott song on the car radio, and we danced. Afterwards, we drove his Buick all around Wolf Lake, each taking turns at the wheel. We even took our clothes off and drove naked for miles, singing along to “Rock Around the Clock” and “Bye, Bye, Love,” the lake shining beside us like a promise. It was the freest moment of my life. Nothing before or since has even come close, the fields and orchards flashing by, the music loud and so familiar, the white road ahead like life itself, stretching far, far into the distance … Yes, Henry James thought “summer afternoon” were the two most beautiful words in English. But, for me, the most beautiful have always been “I remember.” The most beautiful, and often, of course, the most painful …
DAISY
(off) Stop it, Tim! Don’t!
Lights rise on the cottage … MARGARET bursts in from outside.
MARGARET
Dad! Dad, wake up! Daisy and Tim are out on the lake! The boat just tipped over! … Dad! Get up! Get up! Something terrible has happened! Please, God! No! No! Please! Please! Not Daisy! Not my sister! …
She dashes outside and down to the dock.
Lights fade on the cottage.
NARRATOR
Paul had just dropped me off, when I heard the noise out on the lake. Later, Tim said that Daisy had stood up in the boat. Maybe she had, considering what happened the last time they were out there … After I tried to wake my dad, I ran back to the dock. But I couldn’t swim, you see. All I could do was stand there, helpless, the most helpless I’ve ever been in my life.
A light on the dock. MARGARET and the NARRATOR stand side by side.
MARGARET
Daisy! Daisy, can you hear me? Daisy! … Please, God! Please, help my sister! Please, don’t let her die! Please!
NARRATOR
And then it happened. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mrs. Crump appeared. Maybe she’d heard me screaming. Or maybe she’d seen it all from her cottage. I don’t know. I only know that suddenly she came sweeping down the lawn, her bare feet slapping on the weathered planks of the dock. I saw her spring silently past me, almost in slow motion, her long flannel nightgown white in the moonlight, then ballooning as it filled with water … And then she was swimming as hard as she could, striking out toward the capsized boat. At first I could see her begin to tire, then struggle, and finally … finally I saw her go under. She wasn’t in the greatest shape, Mrs. Crump. And the flannel nightgown, I suppose, just became too heavy … The second time she went down, she never came up, except for one pale hand. I could see it in the slash of moonlight. Her fingers seemed to scratch at the sky. And it looked to me then, as it still looks in memory, just as though she were waving …
She’s overcome by emotion.
Music: A few bars of “Blessed Assurance,” very faint, as though it still lingers in the NARRATOR’s memory.
Finally, the NARRATOR and MARGARET turn and face one another. They embrace. It is as though the NARRATOR, at last, is able to forgive her younger self … Then MARGARET exits.
CAITLIN enters, carrying roses.
CAITLIN
Hi, Gran. Looks like it might not storm after all. See? The sky’s clearing up across the lake.
NARRATOR
MacGregor’s Island seems close enough to touch, doesn’t it?
CAITLIN
I was up at the church just now. The minister said you’d already dropped by … He gave me these roses for Mrs. Crump.
NARRATOR
Don’t suppose you know who he is, do you, Caitlin?
CAITLIN
The minister? No.
NARRATOR
Why, that’s Tim Scott, Daisy’s old boyfriend. Became a minister not long after his father died … Bet he even knows John 3:16 now.
CAITLIN
… This is where it happened, isn’t it, Gran
? Just off this dock.
NARRATOR
Yes, the water’s quite deep out there. And, of course, it was night … Somehow Daisy had struck her head on the boat. Tim kept diving, but he couldn’t locate her in the dark.
CAITLIN
They found her body the next day, didn’t they, Gran? Not far from Mrs. Crump.
NARRATOR
(nods) Later, my dad gave me the piece of red satin they found inside her dress – still with the heart drawn on it. He also gave me a talisman Mrs. Crump had given her. Daisy had worn it around her neck. An old French sou with a hole punched in the centre …
Pause.
CAITLIN
Gran, I have a confession to make. It wasn’t just idle curiosity that made me want to come here. Maybe you’d already guessed that.
NARRATOR
I think I had, darling.
CAITLIN
I was hoping you’d find something here, Gran. Some sort of comfort.
NARRATOR
How wise you are, kiddo.
CAITLIN
Sooner or later, you know, you have to forgive yourself. The way people do in those books you write.
NARRATOR
Maybe I’m beginning to, Caitlin.
CAITLIN
Know what I think you always seem to forget? How young you were.
NARRATOR
Yes, we weren’t much older than you, were we? Just kids. Paul. Daisy. Myself.
CAITLIN
Besides, Daisy wouldn’t want you to go on blaming yourself. You know she wouldn’t.
NARRATOR
Oh, Caitlin, did you read what was written on the sundial?
CAITLIN shakes her head.
“Time heals all but memory.”
NARRATOR
(to the audience) We buried Daisy in the Congregational Church cemetery in Jericho. Buried her beside my mom, on a lovely Tuesday afternoon. Tim and his dad came down for the funeral …
DAISY and JACK appear onstage, DAISY sitting on the dock, dangling her feet in the water.
Music: “My True Love” by Jack Scott.
NARRATOR
As for Paul and me –
MARGARET and PAUL appear in the churchyard, dancing to the song on the car radio.
Well, we never saw each other again, not after Willow Beach. It wasn’t his fault. He kept calling me in Vermont, but I wouldn’t answer. You see, I didn’t think I deserved to be happy, not for a very long time … Daisy’s death had come between us … had ripped the flower up by its roots …
JACK
(to the audience) Later, when Margaret found out she was pregnant, she decided to keep the baby, which was something a single girl didn’t do back then. Sally and I insisted she give it up. But instead she ran off to New York City, worked in a folk club, had my grandson, and raised him on her own. In the summer of ’69, she even took him to Woodstock …