Valley of the Moon

I didn’t realize until he asked me the question how I’d been longing for him to inquire about my day.

“Good. I like the garden crew.”

“Do you?”

“You sound surprised.”

“You didn’t mind laboring in the heat for eight hours?”

“I loved it.”

“You loved it?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I doubt you’re used to this kind of life.”

What kind of life was he referring to? The kind of life where you spent the day outside, playing and working alongside people who knew you, really knew you?

“When I was a kid, my father would take me to Lapis Lake in New Hampshire,” I said. “Greengage reminds me of there.”

Joseph held his hand out for the cigarette.

I gave it back to him, surprised that he didn’t mind sharing with me.

“Were you happy at Lapis Lake?” he asked.

“I was. For a long time.”

“Until you weren’t.”

Right.

“When were you there last?”

I had to think. “Nineteen sixty-four,” I said finally.

“Absolutely not,” said my mother. “It would break your father’s heart. You’re going.” She handed me a jar of Pond’s. “By the way, just because you’ll be swimming every day doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cleanse your face properly every night.”

I tucked the Pond’s into my suitcase. “I’m only talking about going up a couple of days late. This weekend is Meg’s birthday party. Her parents are renting out the entire rec center. We’ll have the pool all to ourselves. After that I can go join Dad at the lake.”

I didn’t tell her the party was co-ed and that Meg had invited a bunch of sophomore boys.

“I can take the bus to Portsmouth on Monday and Dad can meet me there.”

“He needs your help opening up the cabin.”

“He can open it himself.”

My mother sighed.

“Please. It’s only two days. Nobody will miss me.”

“Everybody will miss you. The McKinleys. The Babbitts. They’ll be terribly disappointed if you don’t show up with your dad for Saturday night dinner. And what about that new family that bought the cabin next to the Hineses last year?”

“The Harrises,” I said.

“Yes, don’t they have a girl your age?”

Beth Harris. We’d bonded last summer. We were as opposite from each other as could be, but our differences fell away at Lapis Lake.

My mother folded a blouse. “You’ll have great fun once you get there, you always do.” She eyed my blue jean shorts. “You’re not wearing those today, are you?”

My father and I were leaving for the lake tomorrow, but today the three of us were attending the New Parents’ Reception at St. Paul’s School.

“It’s just a bunch of parents.”

“A bunch of very excited parents who are thrilled and grateful their children will be attending St. Paul’s in September, thanks to your father.” She rifled through my closet and pulled out a blue dress with a white Peter Pan collar. “This will do nicely.”

“No,” I groaned.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you’re going to have to get used to dressing conservatively. If you think you’re under a spotlight now being the dean’s daughter, wait until you’re the headmaster’s daughter.”

The headmaster of St. Paul’s was retiring and my father was the obvious choice to replace him; the board had been considering the appointment for months. He had the seniority and he was deeply committed to his job. He was popular as well. Kids adored him; they always hung out in his office. Grateful mothers sent him plates of cookies; grateful fathers, bottles of scotch at Christmas. He left the house at seven-thirty each morning and often didn’t return until seven o’clock at night. He loved his work.

“Can I bring a book?” I asked.

“That would be rude.”

“If I sit in the very back?”

“What book?”

“House of Mirth,” I lied. I was in the middle of Updike’s Rabbit, Run and couldn’t wait to get back to it.

“Fine,” she capitulated.

There were benefits to being my father’s daughter, and the moment we stepped onto campus they accrued to me. We were like celebrities. Parents called out their hellos. Many times, on our way to the chapel, people stopped us.

“Is this your daughter?”

“Yes, this is Lux,” said my father.

“Oh, she’s just lovely,” they said. “A junior, senior?”

My father looked appalled.

My mother said, “Oh, no, Lux is just entering her freshman year.”