by Lynn Austin
“And he was warned to stop running his betting rings, but he wouldn’t. That’s why they let him go.” She walked into their bedroom and began to undress, hoping that Eleanor would finally let the subject drop, hoping that she wouldn’t need to hear the truth about Leonard, too. But Eleanor stalked into the room behind her, hands on her hips, unwilling to quit.
“You never liked Donald, right from the start, did you? And now you’ve poisoned everyone’s attitude at work, too.”
“That’s not true. I never said one word about him or your brother to anyone at work—including Howard. You know that Donald Gallagher is a gambler, Eleanor. Why are you pointing the finger at everyone but Donald himself?”
“It’s all a bunch of lies. Leonard doesn’t gamble, and they fired him, too.”
Cynthia sank down on the bed, too tired to fight. She knew that Eleanor would never believe the truth about why her brother was fired. And if Cynthia continued to defend Howard and criticize Donald and Leonard, it would probably mean the end of their friendship. But right now she was so weary of all of them and so tired of living with a bitter, depressed roommate and two worthless deadbeats that she didn’t care what happened.
“Listen, Eleanor. They fired Leonard because he’s been stirring up trouble trying to organize a labor union. Nobody wants to hear all that Communist stuff he spouts. We’re a Christian nation, a democracy—”
“Where freedom of speech is still Leonard’s right!”
“Not on factory property, it isn’t. Why should the Hayworths keep an employee who’s always badmouthing them?” She climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. “I don’t want to fight about it anymore, Ellie. Good night.”
“Maybe it’s time we went our separate ways,” Eleanor said. “It’s obvious that Leonard and Donald aren’t welcome here, so I don’t feel welcome here, either.”
“I never said they weren’t welcome. You’re my best friend; I don’t have any argument with you.”
“But you’re going to keep dating your snobby rich boyfriend, even after what he did to my brother and his friend.”
“They did it to themselves,” Cynthia said with a sigh. “And yes, I’m in love with Howard. And he loves me.”
“Then I’m moving out. I can’t stand to watch that man destroy you the way Rick destroyed me.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“I’m moving out first thing tomorrow.”
Cynthia hoped Eleanor would see things differently in the morning and change her mind. But Eleanor was up early Saturday morning, packing her belongings. Leonard managed to borrow someone’s car, and he and Donald helped her move into their rundown house across the river.
When the dust settled and the apartment was quiet, Cynthia felt free for the first time in months. She cleaned the apartment from top to bottom and invited Howard to dinner the following Saturday. Three months later, he proposed.
In a town as small as Riverside, it didn’t take long for Cynthia to learn that Eleanor had cashed in a pile of war bonds to buy the little house across the river. Tongues wagged at the odd trio and their bohemian lifestyle. But Cynthia didn’t care what the gossips said. Eleanor was still her best friend and she wanted her to stand up for her at her wedding. She walked across town one Sunday morning and knocked on Eleanor’s door.
“What do you want?” Eleanor asked. She had opened the door only a crack and remained behind it, as if ready to slam it in Cynthia’s face.
“I want to talk, Ellie. Won’t you invite me in?”
“The place needs some work. It isn’t fit for company.” From what little that Cynthia could see through the crack, Eleanor’s words were an understatement. Leonard and Donald always had been slobs, but not Eleanor. Cynthia remembered how Eleanor used to clean their apartment above the funeral home—dressed in an apron and kerchief, with Glenn Miller’s music pouring from the radio—and she wanted to weep.
“What happened, Eleanor?” she murmured.
“What are you talking about?”
“What happened to us? To our friendship? We’ve been through so much together—we can’t just throw it all away.” But the drooping, bedraggled woman who stood before her was a stranger. The stylish, poised Eleanor who had changed Cynthia’s life, who had laughed and loved and wept with her, had disappeared.
“You threw it away, Cynthia, for your rich boyfriend.”
“Why are you making me choose between him and you? Look, I didn’t come here to argue. I came to ask if you’d be my maid of honor—” She stopped when Eleanor started shaking her head. Her refusal hurt Cynthia more than anyone ever had, but she tried one last time. “Won’t you at least think about it?”
“No. We have nothing in common, Cynthia. We have different values, different lifestyles. I don’t want you coming around here anymore, and I’m sure Howard Hayworth doesn’t want you hanging around with me, either.”
Cynthia could no longer halt her tears. “Eleanor, why can’t we still be friends?”
“Because I don’t need your friendship, and you don’t need mine. Goodbye, Cynthia. Have a nice life.”
She closed the door.
Chapter
20
RIVERSIDE, NEW YORK
Can I get you more coffee?” Cynthia asked when she finished telling her story. “How about some more lemonade, Joelle?”
Can “No thanks,” they said in unison.
Kathleen felt as though she’d been struck by a stun gun. She wondered if Eleanor’s story had shocked Joelle as much as it had her. Kathleen finally understood why her mother had scorned riches all her life and hated rich people, but the full truth had been deeply disturbing. She remembered how her mother had argued against going to a “snooty” college. “The boys you’ll meet there would never marry someone from our background,” she remembered her mother saying. “At least at the community college there will be others like you.”
Kathleen was stunned but also deeply moved by this glimpse into her mother’s past. She wished she had known years earlier how Eleanor had been so cruelly betrayed and heartbroken. The petty slights of Kathleen’s own childhood seemed insignificant compared to the deep wounds her mother had suffered.
“I had Ron ten months after I married Howard,” Cynthia continued,
LYNNAUSTIN
“and May Elizabeth was born two years later. Eleanor had you around the same time. I was so pleased when you and May became friends.”
Kathleen struggled to recover her scattered thoughts, remembering why she had come. “Thank you so much for everything you did for me during those years, Mrs. Hayworth. I never would have come to church if it hadn’t been for you.”
Cynthia shook her head. “I wasn’t much of a Christian when I lived with Eleanor. I wish I had been. It might have saved us all a lifetime of heartache. Eleanor’s faith was stronger than my own during the war, but she turned against God when she thought He took Rick from her. Then after everything else that happened, she grew very bitter. I was just the opposite. I had no use for God when things were going well in my life.
But I turned to Him when my dream of an ideal marriage turned to ashes.
You know a little about that, I think.”
Kathleen nodded, looking away as she remembered what she and May had unearthed with their clumsy sleuthing. Cynthia reached over to pat her knee.
“It’s all right, you don’t need to be embarrassed for me. That wasn’t the first time Howard got caught cheating on me—or the last, I’m sorry to say.
He started running around after Ron was born. Every time I found out and threatened to leave him he would promise to stop. And I wanted to believe him. The only thing that finally stopped him was a heart attack.”
“I’m so sorry.” Kathleen had always envied May Elizabeth’s pampered life, unaware of the secrets that went on behind closed doors. And there had been secrets in her mother’s life, too—something in Grandma Fiona’s background that Mr. Trent had used to seek an annulment. Kathleen won
dered what it had been, and if it explained why Eleanor never went to Deer Falls to visit her mother.
“God used all the difficult times in my life for good,” Cynthia continued. “I’ve learned that He can redeem our painful circumstances if we let Him. The truth is, I probably never would have known the Lord if I’d been happily married. Howard may not have been faithful, but God has never forsaken me. I just wish I could have shared everything I learned with Eleanor. She felt so unloved for most of her life—especially after what Rick did to her. We both came to Riverside in 1942 because we wanted to change our lives and start all over again. But God is the only one who can bring lasting change and heal all our wounds. And Rick and his family wounded her… there’s no doubt about it.”
“He sounds like a real jerk!” Joelle said, surprising Kathleen with her vehemence. “Eleanor should be glad she didn’t stay married to him.”
“What ever happened to Rick after he ruined my mother’s life?” Kathleen asked.
“Oh, he’s still around,” Cynthia said. “I hear his name in the news every now and then. His family is very powerful upstate, and Rick eventually got involved in politics. He served as a state senator or something for years and years, then he ran for the U.S. Congress back in the’70s and won. I don’t recall if he’s still in Congress or not.”
Kathleen sat forward in her seat. “Rick’s father had the marriage annulled because of something in Mom’s background. Do you know what that was, Mrs. Hayworth?”
“No. She never did share that with me.”
“So you don’t know why my mother left home and came here? I know it was to get a job, but I think something must have happened between her and my grandmother because they never visited each other when I was young. I only met my grandmother once when I was growing up, and that was when my Uncle Leonard took me to see her.”
“I don’t know,” Cynthia said. “I know there was bitterness there, and Eleanor swore she’d never go back. But she wouldn’t tell me why. I can’t even imagine how horrible it must have been for you, Kathleen, after your mother was murdered. I wanted to—”
Joelle nearly leaped from her chair. “Murdered!” she shouted. The little dog that had been sleeping peacefully on Cynthia’s lap woke up and started to yap.
Cynthia gripped him tightly, her eyes brimming with tears of apology. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to give away any secrets. … Kathleen, I’m sorry.”
Kathleen took a deep breath. “No, it’s okay. I needed to tell Joelle, anyway.” She glanced at her daughter and saw how shocked and angry she was.
“When?When were you going to tell me, Mom?” she demanded. “You never tell me anything.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, Joelle. It’s just hard to find the words to say something like that out loud.”
Their conversation felt awkward after that. Kathleen wondered if the tentative bond that had been woven between her and Joelle had snapped again. She said good-bye to Cynthia Hayworth, promising to keep in touch, both of them knowing they probably wouldn’t.
After they were alone in the car, Kathleen felt the tension between her and Joelle even more vividly. She knew that she was closing up again, shutting out Joelle. And she knew she had to take the first step to repair the breach.
“I’m sorry, Joelle. I was going to tell you about my mother, honest I was. I-I just didn’t know how.”
“Was she really murdered?” Joelle asked softly.
“Yes. … It’s not something that’s easy for me to talk about. I’m so sorry.”
Joelle nodded. “It’s okay.” She reached out to take Kathleen’s hand, and Kathleen knew that Joelle was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was grateful.
“Did they ever catch… you know… the person who did it?” Joelle asked. Her voice sounded shaky, as if she was struggling to comprehend such a violent end to Eleanor’s tragic life. Kathleen remembered how she’d reeled in shock herself when Uncle Leonard had told her the terrible truth on the steps of her apartment building in Albany. She understood exactly how Joelle felt.
“Yeah, they caught him,” Kathleen said with a sigh. “Uncle Leonard drove me home from Albany for the funeral, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay and sit through the trial and all the rest of it. I didn’t even read about the case in the newspaper. I just walked away and closed the door and never looked back. I worked as hard as I could to put myself through college and graduate school. Eventually I got a job in Maryland and married your father—and I just never went back. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve been home to Riverside since my mother was buried.”
“Can we drive past the house where you used to live?” Joelle asked. Kathleen hesitated. “Is that where… where your mother was killed?”
Kathleen nodded.
“Never mind, we don’t have to go see the house. It’s probably too hard.”
“No, it’s okay, Joelle. I think it’s something I need to do.” She thought of how her mother had needed to go to Albany to see Rick’s grave.
The town was so small that they could drive from Cynthia’s wealthy side to Kathleen’s poor side in a matter of minutes. She showed Joelle the elementary school, then drove down the hill three blocks, past the high school, and continued down Main Street.
“The stainless steel diner is long gone, but it used to be right there. And that’s the funeral home across the street.” She saw that it was part of a larger chain of mortuaries now. Farther along, the Valley Food Market had disappeared, replaced by a new brick bank building.
Kathleen slowed the car as they crossed the bridge, approaching the house where she had grown up. Evening was fading to night and fireflies winked in the bushes along the river. But enough light remained in the sky for her to clearly see her old house, lit up from within. The sight of it shocked Kathleen. Someone had completely renovated it: vinyl siding, a new roof, the front porch had been repaired, and there was a lawn instead of the littered patch of dirt she’d grown up with… and flowers!
“That’s it?” Joelle asked. “It’s cute.”
“Yeah… it is cute,” Kathleen said in surprise. She never would have believed it was the same house if it weren’t for the fact that Uncle Leonard was sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair, smoking a cigar—a Cuban cigar, no doubt. He had to be in his eighties by now, but she would have recognized his mournful face and crane-like body anywhere. She pulled to a stop in front of the house before she could change her mind.
“That’s Uncle Leonard on the porch,” she told Joelle.
“No way! I want to meet him.” Joelle had her door open before Kathleen turned off the ignition. She followed her daughter up the steps, her feet dragging.
“Kathleen! You haven’t changed one bit,” Uncle Leonard said as soon as he saw her. “I’d know you anywhere.”
His voice sounded cheerful, but the frown never left his face. He didn’t stand up. Kathleen saw a walker parked nearby and wondered if maybe he couldn’t. Leonard reached for her hand and squeezed it briefly, but they didn’t hug or kiss. They never had and probably never would.
“Annie told me you were going to make an appearance at your father’s party tomorrow. I must admit I found the news rather surprising.”
“I surprised myself by coming. Uncle Leonard, this is my daughter, Joelle.”
“Hi,” Joelle stepped closer, stopping beneath the porch light, and the cigar dropped from Leonard’s mouth.
“Why, she’s the very image of Fiona!”
“I am?” Joelle asked. She looked pleased. “Wasn’t she my mom’s grandmother?”
“Yes, my mother, Fiona Quinn,” Uncle Leonard said. “You’re the spitting image of her! Except you have Donald Gallagher’s hair. Fiona was a breathtakingly beautiful woman. People used to say she looked like Greta Garbo.”
“Who’s that?” Joelle asked.
“A very famous movie star,” Kathleen told her. They talked for a while, their conversation stiff at first. But as K
athleen shared the details of her life with her uncle, they both began to relax.
“I still can’t get over how much your daughter resembles Fiona,” he repeated.
“Uncle Leonard, didn’t your mother have a family photo album way back when? I remember looking at it with Grandma Fiona when I was a kid.”
She then remembered her uncle saying that he’d gotten rid of all of Fiona’s things, and she was sorry she’d asked. He surprised her when he said, “I imagine Fiona’s album is around here someplace. Come on in.”
It took him a minute to haul himself from the chair, but he finally made it to his feet and led the way inside with the help of his walker. The house was surprisingly neat, not exactly a candidate for Better Homes and Gardens, but not the slum it used to be, either. It even smelled nice. The books that had once lain stacked on the floor in every room now filled several tall bookshelves. Kathleen recognized her uncle’s old girlfriend, Connie, seated in a recliner, watching TV.
“Why, Kathleen!” Connie squealed when she saw her. “Well, for goodness’sake! How are you?” She clicked off the TV and fought her way out of the recliner so she could pull Kathleen into her arms. Connie’s fair hair had turned white over the years, and her plump figure had grown noticeably rounder, but she seemed as good-natured as ever. Kathleen wondered if Uncle Leonard had ever married her. She took Connie’s hands in both of hers and was pleased to feel a wedding band on her left hand.
“And who is this with you?” Connie asked.
“This is my daughter, Joelle.”
“Who does she remind me of?” Connie mused. “Well, never mind. Would you like a cold drink? I’ve got—”
“Where is that old photo album of my mother’s?” Uncle Leonard interrupted.
“Why do you want that old thing? Let them sit down and visit, for goodness’sake.”
“Kathleen wants to see it. Her daughter looks remarkably like Fiona, doesn’t she?”
“Why, yes! That’s who she reminds me of. Except that Fiona was in her sixties when I met her, and Joelle is a beautiful young lady, for goodness’sake.”