July 19-20, 1932

At dinner that night, there was a bit of a chill between Father and Faye. She sat primly at his side in an elegant baby-blue twinset. Everyone was expected to attend dinner at Morning House, including Max, who sat in a modified chair next to Faye. Max's nurse was ill tonight, struck down by a stomach problem.

The kitchen staff brought out the dishes of macaroni with tomatoes and nut cutlets, along with a crusty, somewhat impenetrable loaf of whole-grain bread that had to be hacked apart with a big knife. It was always served still warm, and the family cut their own fresh slices as it was passed.

"Clara," he said. "I was thinking you might give Max a swimming lesson tomorrow afternoon, teach him how to jump into the water."

Clara could not hide the disappointment on her face.

"It would be extremely appreciated," Phillip said.

"How appreciated?"

This was a bit of a daring question, but Clara was a daring person.

"You've mentioned this dancer you think so much of, Martha Graham. Would you like to meet her?"

Clara lifted her chin. She was listening.

"She will be visiting the Alberts on Mercy Island in the beginning of August. I can arrange for you to go there and spend some time."

This offer was too good to resist. The next afternoon, Clara dutifully accepted charge of Max and headed to the lagoon. Victory and Unity came along, maybe for support, maybe to be entertained. It was probably a combination of the two.

"Come on, Max," Clara said, lifting the little boy up and climbing into the water with him. As soon as the gentle, clear water hit his skin, Max began to shriek.

"Max, don't scream in my ear. I'll hold you by the middle. I just want you to kick your legs."

Max continued to scream in Clara's ear.

"He doesn't like it," Victory observed.

"I know that," Clara said, looking over her shoulder, wincing away from the noise. "All right, Max. How about you hold me around my neck and I'll take you for a ride!"

"Cold," Max said.

"I know it is. But doesn't it feel nice?"

"Cold."

"Just put your feet in, Max."

"Cold!"

"He thinks it's cold," Unity observed.

"How about just your toes?"

"No!"

Max swung up his foot, catching Clara in the jaw.

"Max, stop it. Stop it, Max. Stop. "

It was like Max had a dozen limbs. He clutched for her cheek, digging in his nails right below her eye. She reflexively let him go, and he dropped into the water. It was not a long drop—his toes had already been skimming the surface, and the water was only about four feet deep. Max screamed so loudly that birds flew out of a nearby tree. Unity and Victory waded into the water to help get him out, while Clara sat on the side, winded and frustrated.

Once out of the water, Max wriggled free of his sisters and paced off.

"That went about as well as I expected," Victory said. "I think... No!"

Clara saw Victory's focus and moved with speed. She ducked just in time to miss the rock that Max had hurled directly at her face. It clipped the side of her head as she turned. Her ear was ringing. Max tore off toward the house and Faye ran from it, toward them, catching him up in her arms.

"What's going on?" she said.

"Clara pushed me, Clara pushed me..."

"I didn't," Clara said, clutching her ear. "I was holding him up and he kicked me and scratched me. I dropped him by accident, then he threw a rock at my head."

Faye looked to Victory and Unity for confirmation and found it in their grim expressions. She looked despairingly at Clara.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," Clara said unhappily. "I turned in time. It would have taken out an eye, or my nose."

"Please don't tell your father, Clara," Faye said. "Please. I'll make sure you won't have to do this again and you'll still meet Martha Graham. I know her. I'll take care of it. Please. Say you scratched your face by accident."

Clara looked down at her lap and nodded.

"Thank you," Faye said, looking at all the girls. "Thank you. You won't have to do this again. I know it's hard. He doesn't want to swim. Phillip is..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She wrapped Max back up and hurried him inside.

"You gave up too easily," Unity said.

"So you teach him," Clara said.

Unity stalked back to the house, leaving Victory and Clara at the water's edge. Tiny droplets of blood gurgled from the cut on her face. Water mixed in with the blood, and pink drops fell to her leg.

"It's only another month or so," Victory said to her sister.

Another month here, maybe. But nothing would change. Ralstons didn't change.

"Tell me about your day, everyone," Phillip said at dinner as he passed the bread. "How did the swimming lesson go?"

Clara looked over to Max, who was trying to use his fork to pick up some mushy peas and he kept failing and reaching for them with his hand. Whatever had befallen his nurse still kept her upstairs, so it was left to Faye to draw his hand back each time, gently returning it to the fork. Aunt Dagmar kept her gaze down on her mostly empty plate. Aunt Dagmar never ate much at dinner. She had a tray of what she privately referred to as normal food brought to her room at six every evening. Her appearance at the table was purely ceremonial.

"It was a start," Clara said.

Faye gave her a thankful smile and the slightest of nods.

"It didn't go that well, Father," Unity said.

"How so?"

"Max was..." Unity kept her eyes steadily on her plate as she spoke. "... upset."

"It was a start," Clara said again.

Max was stabbing down at the plate, unable to get to the peas.

"He became very upset," Unity went on. "He struck Clara."

William looked at Clara across the table. She kept her head down.

"Max," Phillip said. "Did you hit your sister?"

"Clara dropped me in the water," Max said. He spoke clearly. A full sentence. "I hit her with a rock."

"I didn't drop him in the water," Clara said in a low voice.

"Max." Phillip set his utensils down. "You must never, ever throw a rock at someone. Especially one of your brothers or sisters."

Max continued to noodle with his food.

"Stop that and listen to me, Max."

William's stare penetrated the top of Clara's head. She had to look up at him. There was a flash of something in his eyes. Worry. Warning? There was a feeling hanging over the table now, some kind of sword of Damocles. A pulsing moment that trapped her breath in her rib cage.

"I think Max was frightened by the depth of the water," Unity said, trying to cut the tension. "Though Clara had the situation well in hand. He was upset."

The issue of the rock was important, but Phillip took the note from Unity. Unity was his little lieutenant, always keeping things in order. It brought a measure of peace. It would have been easier, of course, if she'd never brought it up in the first place.

"I was there," Faye said quickly. "It was nothing."

"Hit her good," Max added.

"Max!" Faye was pleading now.

Phillip looked to Faye, half closed his eyes, and sighed.

"If you say it was nothing," Phillip replied, "then it was nothing. Max, apologize to Clara. Tell her how sorry you are, and how you will never do anything like that again."

"Sorry," Max said halfheartedly.

"And when you are in the water with your brothers and sisters, especially Clara, you are safe. Swimming is important. We will set this aside for now, and it will not happen again. You will continue lessons with Clara tomorrow. Everyone, let's finish with dinner before it gets cold. Max, eat your peas."

"Can I have custard? I don't like peas."

"Agnes," Faye called, "would you mind, some baked milk custard..."

"You need the peas," Phillip said. "You will eat the peas, Max. Peas are a fruit. Does anyone know why?"

"They contain seeds," Victory said. "And they develop from the ovary of a flower."

"Correct. They are a good source of protein for those who do not eat meat and are full of vital nutrients. They are excellent for the digestive system. So, Max, eat your peas and then you can have a custard."

"I don't like peas."

"Everyone, please put your forks down," Phillip said.

Once again, dinner came to a halt.

"We will all sit here, Max, until you eat your peas. No one else can eat their dinner, or have a milk custard, or enjoy their evening until you do—and I am sure you don't want that. I want you to eat them, yourself, holding your fork."

Max seemed to rumble internally. Clara could see him holding down his temper. His little face went red, and he balled his fists. Phillip stared him down. Clara had no idea who was about to win this contest of wills. Max picked up his fork. For a moment, Clara was sure he was about to stab his father in the hand. He turned it on the plate instead, jabbing relentlessly, spearing one or two peas, but mostly sending them everywhere in a ferocious effort, a mockery of eating. This went on for one minute, two...

The dining room clock ticked away. Clara heard Edward mumble something under his breath. Victory went utterly blank and stared at the curtains. Unity watched Max. William kept his eye on Clara, and Clara imagined she was swimming away from here, through the dark water, in the direction of the moon.

"All right, Max," Phillip finally said with a sigh. "That's good enough. Agnes, you can bring the milk custard. Everyone, eat."

Clara ate automatically, barely tasting the gluey nut cutlet or the tart raspberries. Now that Max had gotten what he wanted, he was suddenly a master of the fork and spoon. He had defeated his father. Everyone knew it. There was a general air of deflation, and of something new. A bit of chaos in their otherwise orderly system of things.

No one wanted to stay at the table when the plates were empty, so dinner was dismissed. Clara slipped off the light cotton sweater she was wearing. As the dishes were cleared, she reached for the bread and cut herself a last, small slice.

She dropped the knife quietly into her lap, folding the sweater over it, and carried it away.