The Handfasting

by David Burnett

  “Up so early?” Her mother glanced over the top of the newspaper as Katherine entered the kitchen. “Your father isn’t even down yet.”

  “It’s late for me, Mom. Often, I’m at work by this time.”

  “Come sit with me and let’s talk. I’ll get your coffee. It seems like ages since you were home—not since Labor Day. I have cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

  “Yum!”

  Her mother handed her a cup of coffee.

  “Oh, that’s so good,” Katherine said, as she tasted it.

  “Tell me, your father says that you and Steven aren’t seeing each other any longer. You know, he and I had lunch when he was in Richmond and he seemed to be so nice. And he’s had such an exciting life.” She paused, waiting for a response, but Katherine had closed her eyes as she took in the aroma of the coffee. When she had opened them, her mother was leaning forward, hands clasped under her chin. “Things just didn’t work out?”

  “I guess not.”

  Of course they were working out. Just like I had hoped.

  Katherine almost spoke the words aloud, catching herself just in time. She wished that she could tell her mother why she no longer saw Steven, but silence was safer.

  “I’m really sorry, Katherine, but that happens. Someone else will come along.”

  “I suppose.” Katherine sighed.

  “Did you hear about the Dawson girl?” Her mother took a drink and then set her cup on the table. “You know Emily Dawson. She’s about your age.”

  “Exactly my age. We were in school together. Dad said you had been gossiping about her when I called on Thanksgiving.”

  “I don’t gossip. Most of what you hear around this city is pure trash, but I think this is true.”

  Katherine remembered Emily as a “free spirit,” the token hippie in a senior class of button-down conservative teenagers in the period just prior to the Age of Aquarius. She smiled as she pictured Emily, with her straight black hair, peasant blouses, and love beads. The kids talked about the incense they would smell when they walked past her car, and there was a lot of speculation about what else she might be burning.

  “What has Emily done now?”

  “The story is that she moved in with her boyfriend down in Tampa. Her mother went to visit. They mixed up their schedules and she arrived a day early.”

  Katherine sipped her coffee. She was happy that her mother had not pursued her relationship with Steven. She shook her head as her mother continued her account of Mrs. Dawson’s visit to Tampa.

  “As Betty Howard tells the story, not only did she find Emily’s boyfriend in the apartment and his clothes hanging in the closet, she walked in on them—the door was unlocked if you can imagine—while they were, well, in bed together. She had heart palpitations and spent a night in the hospital. Turns out Emily has been living with this man for almost a year and is carrying his child.” Her mother pulled her robe firmly around herself. “I know this is nineteen seventy-seven and all, but really!”

  “I wouldn’t believe anything that Mrs. Howard says.” Katherine’s cup rattled as she placed it on the table. “You know how she is. Half, no three quarters, of her stories are lies, pure and simple.”

  “Katherine, hush. There’s no reason to awaken your father.”

  Katherine was angry—justifiably angry, she thought—and she did not respond.

  Her mother looked at her questioningly, then she dropped her eyes. “You’re right, of course. Betty does expand on her stories. Everyone knows that.”

  “But they repeat them anyway. You repeated it.”

  Her mother looked down at the table. “It’s wrong, I know. I don’t usually repeat Betty’s stories. It’s just that, well, you’re at home, and well…anyway, you’re not interested in what happens in Hamilton now, I suppose. I knew that Emily had been your friend.” Her mother bit her lower lip and looked away. “I wanted something we could talk about.”

  “Mom, that’s not fair. I’m interested in what happens in Hamilton. I just don’t like to listen to Mrs. Howard’s lies. She likes nothing better than to destroy a woman’s reputation, and she does it so very well.”

  Katherine looked down at her coffee, while her mother stared at the floor. Neither spoke for almost a minute.

  “What else is going on?”

  “Dr. Nelson is thinking of taking a partner. He’s already interviewed a couple of people. Nice young men, I hear, just out of school.”

  “Is he really?”

  “That’s what I hear. Why don’t you talk with him?” Her mother put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. It just slipped out. Really.”

  Katherine squeezed her hand. “I’ll think about it, Mom.”

  “You will?” Her mother’s eyes lit up.

  “Really. I’ll think about it.” Katherine smiled.

  Her mother poured more coffee.

  “Are you keeping up with Bill’s campaign?”

  Katherine stiffened at the mention of his name. “You sent me a couple of clippings.”

  “He really seems to be working hard. I see a story about him almost every day. And then, there is the speculation about the two of you.”

  “Speculation? That trash about the two of us getting married?”

  “Bill has planned to marry you for years, Katherine. You know that.”

  “Bill Wilson wouldn’t make a decent garbage man, much less a decent husband.”

  “I think people in Hamilton are more interested in that, than in what Bill says in his speeches. When they ask me, I’ve been saying that you have a boyfriend in New York, but I guess that’s not so.”

  She glanced toward the oven. The rolls were not quite ready. “What should I say? Oh my!” Her mother’s eyes grew wide. “Is that why you and Steven have broken up? Because you and Bill—”

  “No!” Katherine stood up suddenly and leaned across the table. “If anyone asks, tell them just how thick the ice will be in hell before I even think of marrying that man.”

  “Katherine, what’s wrong? I’ve felt that you’re not telling me something—mother’s intuition. I thought it was something about Steven, but is it—maybe it’s about Bill? Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

  Bing!

  The timer on the oven indicated that the cinnamon rolls were ready.

  Katherine heard her father’s footsteps on the stairs. “Saved by the bell—literally,” she whispered as she jumped up to help her mother.

  ***

  It was three days after Christmas, when Bill drove slowly down Richmond Road, toward the Jackson’s house. He had spent Christmas with his mother, his younger sister, and her family. It had been a welcome respite from the campaign. Chris had released a statement from him, wishing everyone a happy and holy Christmas, but the entire week was free of appearances, interviews, demands on his time. He had played with his niece and nephew, gone on walks with his sister. He had sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and arguing politics with his brother-in-law. No one had asked him about Katherine Jackson.

  He had seen Katherine in church on Christmas Eve. Once, he had caught her eye and smiled, but she had simply stared for a few seconds, narrowing her eyes before looking away. After the service, he had walked across the church to wish her merry Christmas, to let her know that he had no hard feelings, but she had turned her back as he approached and had not even acknowledged his presence.

  As if she could think herself too good for him now. Bill’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. She needed to learn to show him some respect.

  As he turned into the Jackson’s drive, he took a deep breath. Anger would not get him what he needed today. There would be plenty of time to teach Katherine how to behave once they were wed.

  The mention of his relationship to Katherine, the one that appeared in the first news story, had been planted by Chris, of course. The first reporter to interview him had asked about her in order to inject a bit of human interest into the inter
view. From there, the story had taken on its own life. Seldom did he make a speech or encounter a reporter without answering a question about her. Now, Chris was telling him to “fish or cut bait.” Announce their engagement or deny the rumor.

  Of course, Chris had said that it was not essential that he be married, but the amount of attention that Chris paid to Katherine, his level of interest, indicated to Bill that it was more important than Chris was willing to say.

  What do you want?

  Katherine’s voice had been hostile when she’d spoken to him on the telephone earlier. She had hung up on him twice, but luckily, her mother had answered his third call and he had asked to speak to Katherine. He’d heard them arguing about whether she would talk to him, even though it had sounded as if her mother had placed her hand over the speaker to muffle the sound.

  He had told her mother he was calling because he just wanted to drop by to see an old friend and take her for a drive. He heard her telling Katherine this too.

  The next thing he knew, Katherine was on the line, sounding no less hostile than when she had hung up on him. “Old friend?”

  He was counting on the presence of her mother in the background to keep Katherine from saying what she really wanted to say, to prevent her, in fact, from refusing his invitation.

  “Just a short drive. About an hour. I won’t tell a soul.” He was sure she would recognize a double meaning in his words.

  “This afternoon at three,” she’d snapped. ”I’m leaving for Richmond with my parents at four.”

  ***

  Katherine was pacing on the porch, clutching her pocketbook against her body as he proceeded up the long driveway and stopped at the foot of the steps. She walked out to the car, not waiting for him to get out. She pulled the door open and plopped into the front seat, hugging the door, as far from Bill as possible. Her arms were folded protectively across her chest.

  “I would have come in for you.”

  “Old friends don’t have to be so formal. What do you want?”

  Bill turned onto Main Street, heading out of town, toward the river.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “One month, twenty-eight days, nineteen hours.” She spat the words at him. “Where are we going?”

  “To the river. I want to show you something.”

  “A coincidence. I want to show you something too.” Katherine reached into her pocketbook and extracted her father’s pistol. “You’ve seen this before, Bill.”

  She waved it about. “It’s loaded. Safety is off. You as much as touch me and they’ll find you face down on the road.”

  “Katherine!”

  “I just wanted you to know, old friend, I’m prepared this time. It’s not safe for us to walk in our neighborhoods at night, remember? A girl never knows when she might be in danger.” She placed the pistol back in her pocketbook, leaving the zipper open. “Now, what do you want to show me?”

  “Some land.”

  Katherine noticed that his voice was shaking.

  Good.

  They rode on in silence after that. As they neared the river, Bill turned onto a dirt road, passed through a set of gates, and identified himself at a guardhouse. “Rick Barnes is developing the land out here. Residential development.”

  They passed a large white house set back from the road under towering oak trees. It was a mansion. It looked to be twice the size of her parents’ house. She gazed over her shoulder at it until they rounded a curve and Bill pulled to the side, turning off the engine.

  “Some house, isn’t it? The lots here have five acres—houses have at least four thousand square feet. The smaller houses.”

  He opened the door and stood up.

  “Look at this lot.” He pointed across the street. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Katherine opened her door and got out, standing across the car from Bill.

  “It’s a double lot, stretches all the way back to the river behind those trees.”

  “It is beautiful,” Katherine agreed.

  “It’s mine.”

  “Yours? You own this land?” She was impressed. She’d had no idea that Bill could afford such a purchase.

  “That’s right.” Bill smiled. He reached into the back seat and retrieved a roll of paper. He spread it out across the hood. “These are plans for the house.”

  Katherine walked around the car to look.

  Bill’s hand darted around the blueprint as he spoke. “See, there are three stories, porches wrapping around the first two. Formal living room and dining room, here, flanking the entrance hall. Family room, library, a small suite with a bedroom, here, sitting room and bath on one side. Upstairs, there are a master suite, and five other bedrooms and baths. Look. Here’s the front elevation.” He unrolled another sheet. “And the rear.”

  Katherine stared at the plans. They were for an old Southern mansion like the ones in which her ancestors had lived, the ones she had dreamed of when she was a little girl. “Beautiful house.”

  “There is room in back for a stable, tennis courts, a swimming pool. There will be riding paths along the river.”

  “Fantastic.” Katherine straightened up, remembering that she was talking with Bill. “Going to live here alone? Commute to DC?”

  “I’m not planning to be single for my entire life. I want a wife, a family. They might live here while I’m in Washington.”

  “So, who’s the lucky girl?” she asked sarcastically.

  “We’re old friends, Katherine. I’ve always hoped it would be you.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

  Katherine jerked away. “Don’t touch me. I won’t warn you again.”

  “I’ve always hoped it would be you,” he repeated.

  “Your courtship methods leave a lot to be desired,” she snapped as she walked away from him, back to her side of the car. He followed her. She reached through the window and retrieved her pocketbook from the front seat. “Take me home.”

  “Katherine, I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “It didn’t seem to bother you at the time.”

  “I never intended to hurt you. I had been drinking. You know what that does to me.”

  “When are you not drinking? I could smell the whiskey in your car.”

  He took a deep breath, raised his voice. “It was your fault, damn it. Remember? You acted like a perfect tramp.”

  Scenes from that afternoon flashed through Katherine’s mind. Her muscles tensed. “No, it was your fault.” Her eyes were fixed on his. “I helped you to your room. You and your friends attacked me. I did…”

  “Nothing!” He grabbed her arm and shook her. “You did nothing. I remember it well. If you’d raised a single objection, raised your voice, pushed me away. You did nothing.”

  Katherine pulled free. She started to speak, then she dropped her eyes and looked away. He was right.

  “I’ve always loved you, Katherine, and I’m willing to overlook a lot. I know I’m not what you’ve dreamed of, the knight on the white horse and all, but there’s more to marriage than that. Marry me, and you can come home. You can work with Dr. Nelson—he’s looking for a partner. Work at the free clinic in Richmond. Live in this house.” He motioned toward the plans. “Be queen of Hamilton society, run St. George’s Church. Have a whole mess of children. I’ll have more money than Midas himself—you can have anything you want.”

  Katherine did not answer. She could hear her mother’s words. “Marriage isn’t only about love—it’s about the lifestyle that will make you happy.”

  “No strings, Katherine. I’ll sign a premarital agreement. I’ll be in DC after the election, and you can stay here.” He paused. “Do anything you want.”

  She looked up at the way he emphasized “anything you want.”

  Katherine eyed him warily. “What do you mean?”

  Bill rolled up the drawings. He walked around the car, stopping at the driver’s door.

  “I mean–anything.” He tapped the roll against th
e car. “For instance, Richmond Museum needs new director. Your Dr. Richardson might apply and…”

  “You’re disgusting! In any case, you told me that no decent man would marry me now.”

  “Would a decent man make the proposition I just made?”

  “Take me home.”

  As they turned back onto the highway, Bill sighed. “Have you read any of the newspaper accounts of my campaign?”

  “A couple.”

  “You know, the reporters always ask about you. Seems there is a rumor that you are going to be my wife.”

  “You planted the story. You’ve told people that for years. Everyone laughs at you.”

  “They don’t laugh now. They ask when your parents will make the announcement.” He pulled to the side of the highway. “My campaign manager is becoming concerned. He tells me that we either need an announcement or we need to issue a denial.”

  “What’s the problem? Deny it.”

  “The problem is that the whole thing has gone on for a while. I can’t simply deny the rumor. I’ll have to give an explanation, tell the world why we aren’t getting married.”

  Katherine looked up. What was he saying? She wouldn’t put it past him to blackmail a woman into marriage. How else would any decent woman agree to marry him?

  “I can’t just say that I asked and you turned me down. No, I’ll need a reason for not marrying you.” He looked into her eyes. “The public believe me to be a decent man.”

  She understood the innuendo well enough.

  He pulled back onto the highway and drove toward town. “Give it some thought, Katherine.”

  They rode back in silence, and when they reached the house, Katherine’s parents were in the front hall, waiting for her. Katherine slammed the door to Bill’s car and ran up the steps. She had just enough time to put the pistol back in her father’s study before they left for Richmond.

  Katherine shut out all thoughts of Bill and his marriage proposal. During dinner, her parents asked about her roommates, and she told funny stories about Sara and Becky to keep the focus off her.

  There was the time, for example, when Sara was baking a cake, and she’d mixed the eggs with the other ingredients rather than folding the beaten egg whites into the batter. The cake failed to rise, of course, and tasted like sweet scrambled eggs.