“I can walk,” she protested.
“Don’t be silly,” Bonnie said. “Frank?” She searched for her husband. “I’m going with Miss Cochran. I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home.”
Someone draped her coat over her shoulders as Meryn and Bonnie got her situated in her wheelchair. The cold air outside was like life itself, Henrietta thought. The clearer her head became, the more mortified she was.
They helped her into the car, which was idling outside the entrance. Bonnie got in the back seat while Meryn folded the chair into the rear of the station wagon.
“Let’s get you home,” Bonnie said.
“No hand controls,” Meryn quipped, though her face was pinched with worry.
“Why not?” Henrietta said, closing her eyes and resting her head against the headrest. “Today, I probably wouldn’t notice.”
Dr. Gordon McCourt, Ryn decided, was a very handsome man, in a “Father Knows Best” kind of way, tall and slender, with his thick silver hair and horn-rimmed glasses. She paced in the living room while he was in Henrietta’s room, examining her.
Bonnie was making a pot of creamy chicken soup. “Nothing better,” she pronounced, though they didn’t yet know what was ailing Henrietta.
Ryn had helped cut up some of the vegetables, but she spent so much time looking over her shoulder toward the bedroom that Bonnie finally declared, “You’re going to chop a finger off, the way you’re going. Go. I can take care of this.”
She wished she still had a job of some kind to do, because the waiting was killing her. She tried to sit and read, but all she did was stare at the same page for minutes at a time.
When the doctor finally emerged, Ryn jumped up. Bonnie hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Well?” Bonnie asked.
He shook his head, thoughtfully, his lips pursed. “Not a thing wrong with her physically, other than the usual. She hasn’t been getting as much exercise as she was starting to in the fall. But other than that, I can’t find a thing wrong.”
He eyed Ryn. “You moved in in September?”
She nodded, as did he.
“Hmmm, I wonder,” he said, more to himself than her.
Ryn glanced at Bonnie, but she looked as puzzled as Ryn was. “You wonder what?”
Rather than answer, he opened his black bag and dug around, producing a small, brown-glass bottle.
“This is a vitamin formula. Put three drops in her food or drink, three times a day. We’ll see if this gives her a little pick-me-up.”
He handed the bottle to Bonnie and closed the clasp on his bag. He placed a hand on Ryn’s shoulder. “Walk me to my car.”
Ryn followed him outside. He placed his bag in the back seat of his Buick and turned to her.
“I’ve known Henrietta as long as I’ve been practicing in Bluemont. She’s tough as nails. Had to be. But something’s changed since you moved in. I have my theory, but we’ll see.”
“What theory?” Ryn asked, more perplexed than ever.
But he only smiled. “I don’t know what your long-term plans are, Miss Fleming, but… be gentle with her.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Ryn wondered as he backed out of the driveway.
She went back inside to find Henrietta fussing that she didn’t need to be served in bed. “I’m not sick!”
“Have it your way, then,” Bonnie sniffed. She emerged from the bedroom carrying a tray. “Miss Stubborn won’t stay in bed.”
Henrietta followed her out to the kitchen and sat at the table. “He said I’m fine. Need more exercise. I won’t get that lying around like an invalid.”
“No one called you an invalid,” Ryn pointed out. “Let’s all have some of that soup. Smells great.”
But Henrietta frowned at the bowl Bonnie had transferred from the tray. “That’s what they’re all thinking at the library. All those people. They think I’m too fragile to even stay on my feet for something like that.”
Because Ryn understood exactly how she’d feel, she said, “I know. But I’ve been thinking about it. I think you should use this.”
Henrietta glanced up sharply, and Bonnie turned from the stove where she was ladling two more bowls of soup.
“What do you mean?” Henrietta asked.
Ryn held up her hand as if she were following a marquee. “Reclusive artist has emotional breakdown at exhibit.”
Henrietta bristled. “I did not have a breakdown.”
“Yeah,” Ryn said, grinning. “But everyone’ll be talking about it for months. More people than ever will want to see your work. And those who were there will get to tell the story over and over.”
“She has a point,” Bonnie agreed, setting the bowls on the table.
“This could be part of your mystique.” Ryn nodded as she spooned up some of the thick soup.
“Mystique, my eye.” But Henrietta wasn’t frowning so much any more.
Ryn threw a quick wink at Bonnie, who smiled back.
When they were done eating, Bonnie called her husband to come and pick her up. Ryn offered to drive her, but “we shouldn’t leave her alone,” Bonnie said.
In the few minutes it took Frank to arrive, they got Henrietta settled on the sofa.
“Now, you rest up,” Bonnie said, tugging the throw over Henrietta’s legs.
A quick honk from the driveway signaled Frank’s arrival. Ryn saw Bonnie to the door.
“If you need anything, just call me,” Bonnie said.
“We’ll be fine. Thanks again.”
Ryn closed and locked the door, and then went to sit in her usual chair. “Well, that was an exciting day.”
“Hmph.”
“Want to tell me what really happened?”
Henrietta didn’t answer, but Ryn let the silence stretch out between them until at last, Henrietta spoke. “What happened between you and that girl? Tamara.”
Whatever Ryn had expected from Henrietta, it wasn’t this. “Nothing happened.”
Henrietta didn’t glance her way, busying herself rearranging the throw. “I thought you liked her.”
“I did. I do. But…” Ryn blew out a frustrated breath. “I just can’t. Not when I’m a professor and she’s a student. It would make me no better than Geary. And then there’s her whole nun thing. I don’t get that at all. I’m not sure she really does, either.”
She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Hank, I knew I was gay from the time I was little. I didn’t call it that, of course, but I knew I liked girls. Tamara… she doesn’t know what she wants or what she’s comfortable with. Until she figures that out… I hope she finds whatever makes her happy.”
Henrietta looked her way. “But today, when you were talking to them, you looked… upset.”
Ryn sat back again, hooking one leg over the arm of the chair. “Not upset. More resigned, I guess. Resigned to the fact that I’m probably the only lesbian in this entire town.”
For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
“Not the only one.”
Henrietta’s voice was so soft, Ryn wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. She glanced up and was nearly bowled over by the tenderness in Henrietta’s eyes. It only lasted a second, and then Henrietta lowered her gaze, shuttering her emotions back behind that armor.
“I am more tired than I realized,” Henrietta said. “I think I’ll go to bed.”
Ryn started to get up, but Henrietta waved her back down. “I’m fine. I’ll call if I need anything.”
Dropping back into her chair, Ryn stared after Henrietta’s retreating back, her mind teeming with a thousand thoughts, but it kept circling back to that moment, that glimpse into Henrietta’s heart.
“Damn.”
Chapter 15
Taking the doctor’s advice, Henrietta started walking daily, just the driveway. Once Bud—or sometimes Meryn—got the snow cleared, the sun usually dried the asphalt completely, giving her a safe,
level surface. The path down to the pond was too treacherous this time of year.
At first, one trip down the drive and back had Henrietta winded and wheezing, as her lungs were unaccustomed to the bite of the cold air. But soon, she could do two and then three circuits of the drive. She felt silly walking in big circles, but there were no golfers this time of year to see her. Sometimes, circling back around to Meryn’s car—who names their cars? she wondered, but smiled as she shook her head—she stopped to read the bumper stickers. What must it be like to be so free? To not care what others think?
The last thing Henrietta had intended the day of the exhibit was to declare herself a lesbian. The thought was still so startling to her that she shivered with apprehension just repeating it in her mind. But she knew now, she was. She had loved Una Marsden, romantically, even if they were only fifteen. And if things had turned out differently, she would have wanted a life with Una, a home together, as lovers and partners—the life they had so innocently planned.
“We’ll be happy,” Una had declared as they lay together on her bed while her aunt was away at one of her parties. “Not like Radclyffe Hall and her lovers.”
“Who’s Radclyffe Hall?” Henrietta had asked.
“Silly. Haven’t you read The Well of Loneliness?”
“No. What’s that?”
“Only the most scandalous book in ages. I found a copy in London and read it. It’s not a happy story, but then, I suppose they can’t let our kind tell happy stories, can they?”
“What do you mean, ‘our kind’?”
Una propped up on an elbow to smile indulgently at Henrietta. Lowering her head, she kissed her on the mouth. “This is what I mean.”
Henrietta reached up to pull Una back down, craving the softness of her lips.
Una lay beside Henrietta again, sifting Henrietta’s dark hair through her fingers. “I’m never marrying. They can’t force me. I want us to stay together always.”
“Me, too.” Henrietta turned on her side, tracing a finger over Una’s lovely face. “Where will we live?”
Una frowned as she thought. “Perhaps New York City. I read there are places there where our kind can live freely. Like Paris was in the twenties. Of course, Paris won’t be the same after the war.”
“I’d love to live in New York. I could paint, and you could write.”
Henrietta stood, staring into the distance as she lost herself in memories. Shivering, she brought herself back to the present and resumed walking.
Life, it seemed, had brought her full circle. Not that she could let herself imagine having Meryn love her in that way, but it was hard to picture life without that girl. And when Henrietta remembered what it felt like to be held by Meryn, to feel the warm embrace of her arms, even if it was in sympathy, it took her breath away.
Henrietta wasn’t given to introspection. Introspection led to self-pity, and self-pity led nowhere. But she found herself pondering the puzzling nature of love in all its forms. She’d never truly loved anyone but her parents and Una, so she felt distinctly at a disadvantage. In fact, she sometimes thought her emotional development had been as stunted as her body—stuck in the same place it had been in the summer of 1945. She’d matured, but have I grown?
Meryn, though she was thirty years younger, seemed so much wiser about these things. Henrietta admired that.
She thought about this as she walked, wondering how someone so young could be so confident in matters of the heart. She stopped suddenly as it hit her. She understands love and heart and relationships because she’s willing to let herself be hurt.
That realization shook Henrietta.
She made her way inside to the kitchen, where Meryn had left her a selection of teas with firm instructions to make herself a cup when she came back in. She’d put the kettle on low heat before she went outside. With hot water poured and a tea bag in the cup, she shuffled it to the table and sat.
Her heart was pounding and fluttering in that frightening way. Was it possible for something to be painful and pleasurable at the same time? She’d been hurt so much physically—and emotionally when she thought Una had simply left her—that her default response was to guard against anything that might hurt her. Just the thought of deliberately opening herself to someone, knowing that her heart might be broken…
“I don’t think I could do that,” she said to the empty house.
The weather broke—just enough to offer a tease of spring. Days of brilliant sunshine actually melted the snow enough to allow patches of brown grass to show like islands in a sea of white. The trees seemed to stretch a little, reaching for the sunlight. Somehow, most of February had crept by until spring break was only a few weeks away. Ryn was almost as eager for it as the students were.
She sat in a secluded corner of the library where she had a view as she tried to concentrate enough to grade papers—five-thousand-word essays on the War of 1812.
“Why did I do this to myself?” she mumbled for the hundredth time as she circled an incorrect statement and jotted a comment in the margin.
But her gaze kept drifting to the window and the scene beyond. Yesterday, when she’d been here at this same table, grading these same papers, she’d seen Tamara walking across campus. She hadn’t spoken to Tam since the reception at the library, and that had been barely two words. It had been so tempting to jump up and run after her, to talk.
But there really isn’t anything to say, is there?
She propped her chin on her hand, her other hand playing absently with her pendant. It was kind of funny. As attractive as Tamara was, as much as Ryn had hoped last semester that maybe something was there, she was kind of glad nothing had happened. Drama was over-rated, and she was pretty sure a relationship with Tam would have come with lots of it.
She sighed and returned to her grading.
“Hi.”
Ryn looked up to find Franny standing beside her. “Hi.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all.”
Ryn slid her pile of papers aside and capped her pen.
“You sure I’m not interrupting?” Franny set her backpack on the floor and sat across from Ryn.
“Believe me, an interruption at this point is very welcome.”
“How’ve you been?” Franny’s sharp eyes probed. “We haven’t seen you much lately. Actually, we haven’t seen you at all since the art reception.”
“Yeah, I’ve been really busy.”
Franny tilted her head. “Too busy to come by? Or come to Mass?”
Ryn suddenly found it hard to meet Franny’s gaze. She reached for her pen, unclicking the top and doodling on a folder.
“Is there some reason you haven’t wanted to hang out?”
When Ryn didn’t say anything, Franny reached for her hand, stilling the doodling.
“Or should I say, is there someone?”
Ryn looked up. “What do you know?”
Franny looked as if she was trying not to roll her eyes. “I know avoidance when I see it.”
“Sometimes avoidance is the better part of valor. Or something like that.”
“Sometimes.” Franny released Ryn’s hand. “If it helps, I think Tamara’s just as messed up.”
“I’m not the one who’s messed up.” Ryn narrowed her eyes. “Has she spoken to you?”
Franny shook her head. “It’s more what she won’t say.”
“Franny, I appreciate this little pep talk, but, no offense, I doubt you’d understand.”
Franny glanced around and saw that no one else was near. She startled Ryn by leaning across the table and reaching for her chest, cradling the silver labrys in her fingers.
“Ryn, I found something that means more to me than human relationships. It doesn’t mean I never had a human relationship.”
Ryn’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “I… um… Really?”
“Really.” Franny released the labrys and sat back. “My last girlfriend was a wonderful person, but, for me,
this is what I need.”
“Wow.” Ryn ran her hand through her hair as she absorbed this bit of news. “I like Tam, but I just can’t. Not when she’s a student and…”
“And doesn’t know what she wants.” Franny nodded. “It’s hard to watch her struggle, but it’s her struggle. She needs to figure this out.”
Ryn blew out a breath. “And I don’t want to be the one she figures it out with. I can’t.”
“I know.”
It was such a relief to know there was someone who understood. “So that’s why…” Ryn flipped her hands palm-up. “I really miss hanging out with you guys, but I don’t want to make it harder on Tamara right now.”
She looked at Franny, her short veil slightly crooked, her tall, gangly body looking out of place in the black habit she wore. Ryn leaned forward and picked up the simple gold cross lying on her chest.
“You’ve had a girlfriend. What about this? Is this truly enough to make up for never having that again?”
Franny nodded solemnly. “It’s hard to explain. I guess it would be like, if you were in a relationship with someone you liked, hoping it might turn into love, and then, wham. You meet the one. And you know. This is what you’ve been waiting for. And no one else will ever match up, ever come close. Not for you.”
Ryn let the cross go, watching it swing gently from its fine gold chain. “But to give up… you know, touch and hugging and sex.”
Franny snorted. “I didn’t say there weren’t sacrifices. That part’s hard sometimes. Damn hard. But, overall, it’s so worth it. There are lots of kinds of love, Ryn.” She searched Ryn’s eyes again. “How’s Henrietta?”
Ryn blinked at the abrupt change of topic. “She’s fine. Why?”
“I was watching you. At the library. Watching her. I think you might understand what I’m talking about better than you know.”
She reached for her backpack and stood. “Don’t close your heart off to what’s right in front of you.”
Bending down, she kissed Ryn on the cheek and left.
Ryn walked out of the library in a daze a short while later, Franny’s words running around and around in her head. She didn’t notice the sunshine or the warmth or the students hanging around outside as she returned to Rayburn. Climbing the steps slowly to the second floor, she opened the stairwell door to shouts coming from the administrative office.
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