“Ohio State is great,” Beryl laughed. “Your only problem is it’s too close to home. Speaking of home, your home is beautiful,” Beryl said enviously.
Aggie chuckled a little. “That’s not my home,” she said. “It’s Aunt Cory’s. Actually, it’s held in some kind of trust in her name. I don’t really understand it. My great-grandfather arranged it all so she could stay with Grandfather Terrence until he died… it got complicated,” she said apologetically.
“How long have you been living there with your aunt?” Beryl asked.
“Only a few weeks,” Aggie said. “My family – my father and brothers – wanted Aunt Cory to move to an assisted living facility so they could sell the house. We had to have the auction to pay back taxes on the property. There was some kind of family scrap years ago about bad investments or something, but… Aunt Cory didn’t want to leave, and I don’t blame her, so… I agreed to keep an eye on her.” She watched Cory laughing with Ridley up ahead. “Sometimes I wonder who’s keeping an eye on whom.”
A little while later, they were seated at a table as a fresh pitcher of margaritas was delivered by their server. Ridley poured for everyone and raised his glass in a toast.
“To Dr. Beryl Gray,” he said, “whose determination to solve the mystery of Helen and Corinne made this meeting possible.”
Beryl blushed furiously as Aggie and Cory raised their glasses and chimed in, “To Beryl.”
“And now,” Ridley said, turning to Cory, “I have been dying to hear more of your story. What happened after the war?”
* * *
Corinne carries a breakfast tray up to Terrence who rarely leaves his room. He accepts the tray silently, but as she turns to leave him, he reaches out to squeeze her hand, and she smiles in understanding. She pauses on the landing on the stairs, looking out the stained glass window at the gardeners who are pruning back the roses.
Corinne had hoped, once Terrence was back in familiar surroundings, that he would be better, but it has been almost six months and he is the same. Margorie tried to get him to come home, “our home,” she insisted, “with our son,” but Terrence just smiled and shook his head. She left in tears.
“It’s not right,” Candace insists frequently since their return home. “You’re coddling him,” she says accusingly to Corinne.
But Candace tried to coddle him. When he and Corinne first arrived home, Candace tried to embrace him, tried to be the one to take care of him, but he recoiled at her touch, turning instinctively to Corinne for protection from Candace’s smothering.
Candace, in her hurt, lashes out at Corinne instead, belittling the work she did in Washington. “Yes, the entire war turned on the efforts of our little Corinne,” she says waspishly.
Corinne, who understands Candace’s bitterness, her littleness, smiles serenely and refuses to respond, which only serves to make Candace’s heart colder and more bitter still.
This particular morning, as she comes down the stairs, Corinne hears the early mail bell and goes to collect the post from the tray hanging below the mail slot. Leafing through the envelopes as she carries the mail to the dining room, there is a letter for her. From France.
Corinne hands the remainder of the mail to Mother who is still at breakfast with Candace, going over committee assignments for the church bazaar. Father is already at the bank.
Corinne’s face, as she reads Helen’s letter, has a telltale flush of excitement that attracts Candace’s attention like a shark to blood.
“Who is that from?” she asks.
Corinne’s face is radiant as she looks up and says, “From Helen. My friend Helen. You remember, Mother, I told you about her. She was in England during the war and is just now coming home. I have invited her to stay.”
“Stay?” Candace asks sharply, with a quick glance at their mother to gauge her response.
“That’s nice, dear,” Mary Bishop says sweetly, but “How can you be so thoughtless?” Candace butts in. “Now? When Terrence is so… so addled? To have a stranger in the house?”
“She isn’t a stranger to me,” Corinne says coolly. “And I think she may be able to help Terrence.”
Candace laughs cruelly. “How can some woman whom he has never met help him?” she asks.
“Because she fought and was injured,” Corinne says proudly, “working with the French Resistance. She’s terribly brave. She and Terrence have things in common.”
“Things you would never understand,” is implied, but not said aloud.
Candace, who can think of no response to this, sits silently through the remainder of breakfast, but Corinne, who knows her sister well, knows that she is stewing, building up a new volley of protests.
As soon as Mary goes to her study to begin writing the morning’s letters and make up a new week’s menu with Cook, Candace launches a new attack against Helen’s coming.
“It’s too late,” Corinne says, cutting her off. “The invitation has been extended, and I will not rescind it now.”
Candace looks outraged. “Without so much as a ‘by your leave’?”
“Yes,” Corinne smiles. “Where I am, she will be.”
Candace’s expression changes and Corinne is immediately wary.
“And where do you think she will stay?” Candace asks with an acid sweetness.
Bracing herself, Corinne responds, “She will stay with me,” and she knows then that her sister guesses at the true nature of their relationship, but she will not be deterred. She folds her letter and stands, and there is an unaccustomed forcefulness to her presence that even Candace has to acknowledge. “She will be here with me or I will quit this house. Believe me when I say this, Candace, because I swear by everything I hold dear that I mean it.”
And Candace, who wants more than anything to feel loved and yet has not the slightest idea of how to love, feels instead a cold rush of envy for her sister who easily does both – though Candace would have been astonished had someone told her it was envy. “It’s not!” she would have cried. “I’m not!” but inside, her heart hardens and withers a bit more as Corinne floats happily from the room.
* * *
“Oooh,” Cory said as she drained her third margarita over dinner, “I haven’t talked this much in a long time!”
Beryl and Ridley both chuckled in delight, but Aggie said protectively, “Remember, we have to walk back from here.”
“Was the food okay?” Beryl asked anxiously.
“It was delicious,” Aggie said appreciatively.
Beryl paid the dinner bill. “You fed me a wonderful meal,” she reminded Cory and Aggie when they tried to protest.
The restaurant was crowded as they rose to leave, but Ridley, thanks to his crutches and broad shoulders, cleared a path for the others to follow in his wake. He retrieved his folded wheelchair where he had left it near one of the front windows. He could see that there was now a line of patrons waiting to be seated.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered as he glanced through the glass. He tried to stop Beryl, but before he could call her, she had opened the door for Cory and nearly walked into Claire and Leslie as they stood in line.
It only lasted a few seconds, but Aggie, not understanding the reason for the sudden stop in their progress out the door, placed a hand on Beryl’s shoulder and asked, “Is everything okay?”
Claire’s eyes immediately zeroed in on her, communicating an instant and obvious animosity that left Aggie feeling totally confused.
Cory stepped forward, taking Beryl by the arm and saying, “What a delightful dinner. Could we walk around for a bit or I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.” She steered Beryl past the queue of people and out onto the sidewalk.
Beryl’s gaze was fixed on the pavement as Cory guided her, with Ridley and Aggie trailing along in their wake.
“What just happened?” Aggie asked, non-plussed.
“Later,” Ridley muttered, back in his chair, keeping a worried eye on Beryl as he wheeled along.
“I’m
all turned around. Which way to the Mall?” Cory asked over her shoulder to Ridley.
He responded by taking the lead, leaving Beryl to walk silently beside Aggie as Cory chatted, exclaiming when the Mall came into view, “This looks so completely different. There were still ugly concrete munitions buildings here the last time I saw this place.”
Beryl gradually pulled out of her preoccupation, pointing out the various museums lining either side of the Mall, lit up dramatically now in the dusk. When Cory saw the Carousel, she insisted on riding, giggling like a little girl as she rode a garishly painted horse, sitting sidesaddle.
Aggie kept glancing worriedly at Beryl who still seemed to be only partially with them.
When at last Ridley and Beryl dropped Cory and Aggie off at their hotel, they had made plans to spend Saturday visiting several of the monuments that Cory particularly wanted to see.
“See you tomorrow,” Aggie said as Beryl and Ridley bade them good-night. Turning back to Cory, they made their way to the elevator. “What happened when we were leaving the restaurant?”
“I think Beryl ran into an ex-lover,” Cory said.
“What?” Aggie asked in surprise. “That woman who was looking at me so hatefully?” She glanced down at her great-aunt. “How do you know?”
Cory smiled up at her. “I may be old, but I remember enough to recognize a broken heart when I see one.”
Chapter 23
If Beryl and Ridley had any concerns about Cory’s energy level, they were dispelled by mid-morning on Saturday. They had already begun a huge loop from the Vietnam Memorial to the World War II, with plans to continue on to the Korean and then to the Lincoln.
“Good thing I thought to pack snacks,” Beryl said to Aggie, retrieving her backpack strung to Ridley’s wheelchair as they completed a tour of the World War II Memorial.
The two of them went outside the circle of granite columns and located a shaded bench while Cory and Ridley lingered inside despite the continued August heat.
“You were right,” Beryl said as she handed Aggie a bottle of water. “Your aunt has more energy than I do.”
Aggie smiled. “She is amazing.” She took a long drink. “Thanks for thinking of this,” she said, raising the bottle. She glanced over at Beryl. “Are you okay?”
Beryl met her eyes for a second, and saw that there was no point in pretending she didn’t know what Aggie was referring to. She gave a small shrug. “It’s getting better. I just didn’t expect to run into her like that.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds. “Her idea?” Aggie asked. “She discovered a new love and just had to see where it would go?”
Beryl heard the bitterness in Aggie’s voice. “Uh, no,” she said. “My idea – when I found out the truth about her and the woman we saw her with last night.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Aggie said. “That stinks.”
Beryl gave a half-laugh. “Yes, it really stinks.” She took a drink, and said, “It had actually been going on for quite a while. I just didn’t want to see it.” She could see Cory talking to Ridley as they pointed to something inside the memorial. “Ridley’s been a life saver for me. He let me move in with him. Let me sulk. Made me eat.” She smiled. “I’m not sure what I would have done without him.”
She turned to Aggie. “What about you?”
“It shows?” Aggie said sheepishly. “It’s been three years for me. My ex met her soul-mate after we’d been together for five years. And that was that.”
Beryl could see the hurt still etched on her features even after all this time. “Did you have a clue?”
“No,” said Aggie and she was mortified to feel sudden tears spring to her eyes. “We were happy. We were good together. I… I think that’s been the hardest part. It’s bad enough to break up when you know things are starting to go sour between you.” She blinked hard. “How do you ever trust someone else again when you didn’t see it coming the last time?”
Beryl didn’t know what to say, but Cory and Ridley came to find them at that point. They also accepted bottles of water and some granola bars that Beryl had packed.
“What a beautiful memorial,” Cory said, pressing her hand to her heart. “And the Vietnam. There just aren’t words.”
“I know,” Ridley said. “No matter how many times I go, I’m in awe.”
She laid a gnarled hand on his shoulder. “One day, there will be a memorial to you and those who fought with you,” she said.
He looked at her, and Beryl could see the emotions churning in his eyes.
“Another granola bar, anyone?” she asked to break the tension.
“I’ll take one,” Aggie said, giving Ridley an opportunity to occupy himself with an adjustment on his chair which gave him an excuse to turn away for a few minutes.
“Ready?” Cory asked enthusiastically after only a couple minutes’ rest.
She and Ridley led the way toward the Korean Memorial. It also stunned them into silence as they walked among the larger-than-life figures. It felt like an outdoor church as no one there spoke more loudly than a whisper, looking up into the bronze faces, each one unique, real.
When they left to head toward the Lincoln, Aggie sidled over to Beryl, and, as if she was carrying on an uninterrupted conversation, asked “So, is your break-up the reason you interviewed at OSU?”
Beryl considered for a moment how to answer. “It helped make the timing right to think about a move,” she said in measured tones. “One factor of many.”
“What are the others?” Aggie asked casually. “If you don’t mind talking about this.”
“I don’t mind,” Beryl said. She took a deep breath. “Have you ever… have you ever found yourself looking in the mirror and realizing you don’t like the person looking back? It’s… you had dreams for what you would do with your life, with your career, and somehow, without knowing exactly how it happened, you’re stuck in a place you never wanted to be. And you feel as if everyone in your life is holding you in that place, almost like holding you underwater, only letting you up long enough to gasp for air and then pushing you back under, because it suits them to have you here. And the only way to break free is to do something kind of drastic. But then, you’re afraid you’re only reacting to the negative stuff, and how do you figure out if the drastic thing is the right thing?”
She realized how much had just come spilling out and grinned in embarrassment. “I’m not normally this much of a mess,” she said with a wan smile.
Aggie looked at her and said, “I don’t think you’re a mess.” They walked on for several yards. “What about your family? Won’t they object to your leaving, if you accept?”
“You forget I haven’t been offered the position,” Beryl reminded her. “But, they’re part of why I’m thinking of going.” Aggie waited as Beryl chose her words. “I don’t know if I can really describe the dynamics… it’s kind of like being invisible, but being expected to do everything. I feel like Cinderella sometimes.” She shook her head. “I just had an argument with my mother – the evening you called, as a matter of fact – during which I blurted out that I had interviewed at OSU. Not how I wanted to tell them.”
“I thought you sounded upset over the phone,” Aggie said. “Maybe being farther away will make them appreciate you more.”
Beryl grinned ruefully. “It would be nice to think so, but…”
When they got to the Lincoln Memorial, Cory didn’t want to go up to the Memorial itself.
“I would just like to sit here on the steps,” she said. “This was the last place Helen and I met in Washington before I took Terrence home.” She looked at Beryl. “Valentine’s Day, 1945,” she smiled wistfully.
The younger people left her to herself for a while, lost in her memories as they climbed the steps. Ridley took his crutches, leaving his wheelchair where Cory could keep an eye on it.
“What happened to Helen?” Beryl asked when they got to the top and looked back down at Cory’s tiny figure.
; Aggie shook her head. “She died before I was born, but I’m not sure what she died of, and Aunt Cory never speaks of it.” She glanced over at Beryl. “She’s been talking more since your visit, and if you two continue to write, maybe she’ll talk to you about it.”
* * *
Corinne sits in the rocker near her bay window, watching Helen sleep in the grey pre-dawn light. Her heart is full to bursting with the joy of having Helen with her again, and not just for a few hours or a day, but forever.
Mary and Eugene had blithely welcomed Helen as Corinne’s special friend when she arrived a couple of weeks previously. Candace was polite, but Corinne knows it is only a matter of time before the mask of politeness cracks and Candace’s spitefulness spills forth, and so she remains on guard.
Terrence, as Corinne had known he would, took to Helen immediately.
“I like her,” he said to Corinne a few days after Helen’s arrival. “She doesn’t talk all the time.”
Indeed, Helen has changed. She is kinder. Corinne has been surprised to hear her thanking the maids and the kitchen staff; she no longer leaves her things lying about for someone else to pick up. She is quiet for long periods of time, holding a book in her lap, but often not reading it.
“You don’t know how wonderful it is,” she says to Corinne, “to be able to sit and relax, without the sounds of bombs or planes or guns…”
Yet, despite Helen’s insistence that the quiet of the Bishop house is peaceful for her, Corinne cannot shake the feeling that Helen is brooding about something.
“No, I don’t miss it,” Helen laughs when Corinne asks her if she misses the war, but she doesn’t meet Corinne’s eyes as she says it.
Corinne holds her when they are in bed, after they have made love, holds her tenderly as she falls asleep, breathing in her flowery scent, thinking that she will never take for granted the gift of having Helen with her again. But deep in the night, when she is no longer in Corinne’s arms, Helen’s sleep is disturbed, restless, and Corinne lies in the dark wondering what it is that Helen dreams of.
* * *
“Is she okay, do you think?” Ridley asked, looking down at Cory sitting far below them.
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