by Debra Diaz
Genny’s partner, young and robust and as tall as Ethan, stared at him for a moment, then glanced at Genny and back at Ethan. Belated realization dawned on his face and he flushed, muttered something, bowed to her and disappeared.
Ethan remained motionless, watching her. Genny reluctantly looked into his face. His eyes shone in the muted light, reminding her of the gray-blue haze that hung over the surrounding mountains. He wore an odd, half-smile that wasn’t really a smile at all and that filled her with something like trepidation.
She had no choice but to give him her hand. She placed the other hand on his wide shoulder, feeling beneath her fingers its hardness and strength through the cool smoothness of the coat. Neither spoke as they joined in the waltz.
She knew people were watching them, but could take no pleasure in being the center of attention. She felt like the schoolgirl she’d been at the age of eleven, when she’d been caught putting pins in the headmistress’ overcoat. Had someone reported her behavior to Ethan?
Still, he didn’t speak. Where had he learned to waltz so well? Oh, yes, she’d heard someone say he’d been to Europe, to Vienna. No doubt the Austrian ladies had fallen over themselves in their eagerness to share a dance with him! The thought stiffened her spine and she decided she would show him she could waltz as well as he and better than most; she assumed an almost perfect form and gracefully became a mirror of his own movements. Her gown swung out like a bell; people were staring in admiration, but Ethan seemed not to notice. It would have been a moment of supreme triumph for her, if her partner had been anyone but him.
Why didn’t he say something?
When the waltz ended at last, he drew her silently out of the room, through the gay, chattering crowd and across the hall into the dining room. In appearance, he was merely guiding his wife across the room, but Genny noticed that the arm around her waist was very firm. Nearly all the tables were filled, but Ethan spied an empty one and led her to it. Flushed and breathless, she realized that for some reason all of her senses had reached a state of acute clarity, as she had heard sometimes happened to dying people.
Ethan pulled out her chair, and with ill grace she sat down, her eyes on the single golden tulip bulb stuck in a glass vase in the center of the table. Ethan sat across from her and she lifted her eyes, trying to force a cheery smile.
“Ethan, I’m so surprised to see you. What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to take you home, since you’ve obviously forgotten you have one.”
“You’ve no right — ”
“You are my wife.”
Unfortunately there was no rebuttal for that. Someone passed by and spoke to Ethan, and he turned his dark head quickly…a familiar gesture that brought a wave of unexpected poignancy. She watched him as from a great distance; she couldn’t keep her eyes from him, from the strong, handsome profile, the way his lips moved, the way his hands relaxed negligently on the table. His hands, she thought, and had a fleeting glimpse of herself in Guy Davis’ arms. She hurriedly cast the thought away, as if Ethan might somehow pluck it out of her mind.
She was jolted back to reality when Ethan turned to her and she saw that the man had gone. Having no defense against him, she resorted to anger.
“I’m not a child to be dragged home against my will. You’re only trying to embarrass me in front of my friends!”
“Thus far, my dear, I’ve done nothing to embarrass you, unless it’s merely my presence you’re ashamed of.”
She scowled, about to retort, when she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up into the smiling face of one of her admirers.
“Excuse me, Miss Genny,” he said politely, and glanced at Ethan. “Sir. They’re about to begin our dance, ma’am. You promised me the third polka.”
“Of course, Freddy.” Genny’s expression changed quickly. “You will excuse us, Doctor?” she asked sweetly, giving Freddy her hand and getting to her feet.
Ethan rose and bowed from the waist, with a look of effortless imperturbability that infuriated her. Her nose high in the air, she returned to the ballroom.
Afterward, she walked out onto the terrace with Freddy. Several people strolled across the grounds or stood in little groups, talking, laughing, sipping their drinks. A few couples walked arm in arm on the steep embankment, which reared over a curve in the Tennessee River. Torches and lanterns threw a bright glow over the terrace and most of the bank.
She saw Ethan standing with a group of people near the terrace, holding a glass of punch and listening attentively to something said by — goodness gracious — it was that Alexander woman!
Hattie Alexander was a woman of great charm, notorious for her many love affairs with rich and influential men. It was due only to the prominence of her family that she was still received by “nice” people, in spite of the fact that social codes were no longer as stringent as they’d been before the war. Several years older than Ethan, she possessed a worldliness and sophistication that Genny ardently envied. Ethan seemed quite interested in whatever she had to say, and Genny felt a flare of annoyance.
“Freddy, do let’s walk along the river,” she said, linking her arm in his. “It’s so hot inside, and it will be cool near the water.”
“Do you think we should? They say the bank is soft after the rain last night.”
“Well, no one’s gone sliding into the river yet, and in any case I can swim. Come on!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
She practically dragged the reluctant Freddy after her, approaching as close to the embankment’s edge as they dared. A quick sidewise glance told her that Ethan noted her departure and was frowning slightly.
Below them, the rays of the moon reflected off the black water in a silvery sheen, rippling and lapping at the shoreline. A cool breeze wafted over them. They passed another daring couple that had been down to the pier, from which the boats and canoes were launched. Genny and Freddy descended the steps and walked out onto the wooden platform. An old rowboat rocked on the waves next to the pier.
It was a rat that sent her into the river…a very large and swift rat, shooting unexpectedly out of the rowboat and scurrying across the dock, passing on the way directly under Genny’s skirts. She gave a piercing scream, flung herself backward, and felt an unpleasant jolt as she hit the water.
Her first thought was that her hair was ruined, the second was that her gown was ruined, and the third was that she would surely drown.
“Don’t just — stand there — gaping!” she sputtered, fighting to keep her head above water. “I can’t swim!”
“But you said — neither can I!” cried the horrified Freddy, who was dashing about in a frenzy. “Help! Somebody help!”
Voices came closer over the embankment as several people ran toward the landing. A surge of excitement went through the crowd when Genny was spotted in the water. Someone gave a little scream.
Genny splashed frantically, waving her arms and attempting to kick her feet, but they were encumbered by her heavy skirts. Again and again her head went under the water. She choked and gagged.
As through a haze she saw Freddy, with an expression of martyrdom, hold his nose and leap into the river. Apparently it wasn’t very deep at this point, for his feet seemed to be touching the bottom. She felt his hands pull her up. He dragged her toward the bank where they both fell, gasping.
“Poor little thing,” came the unmistakable, South Carolinian accent of Hattie Alexander.
“She’s all wet,” proclaimed another genius. “Is there a doctor here?”
The breeze touched her, but she was too mortified to be cold. Genny let herself go limp and closed her eyes. Someone’s hand smoothed back her hair and rested for a moment on the pulse at her throat.
“Well?” cried Freddy. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Is she — ”
“She’s all right,” said Ethan. “She’s fainted.”
He knows I’m faking, Genny thought, detecting a certain note of irony in his voice. Oh, a plague on hi
m!
There was a murmuring from the crowd, then someone said, “Here they come with a litter from the hotel.”
Someone tucked a blanket around her. She was lifted gently onto the stretcher and knew she was being carried up the hill. One of the bearers slipped on the soft earth and the stretcher dipped precariously. Her hand clutched the edge beneath the blanket and she opened her eyes a crack to see Ethan walking alongside. He righted the stretcher until the other man regained his balance. Behind Ethan were the others, still talking excitedly among themselves. Someone ran up beside them, and she heard Josephine’s voice.
“Oh, Dr. Carey, what happened?”
“She seems to have fallen into the river. Will you tell Mr. Fairchild she’s all right? I’ll see to her.” He said to the two young men carrying the litter, “Take her up the back stairs, will you?”
“I’ll send some towels to her room,” Josephine said, and hurried away.
Genny felt the stretcher slant upward as she was lifted up the back stairway. Music drifted distantly from the ballroom. It seemed fitting somehow to be carried up out of the river to the strains of The Blue Danube.
By the time they reached her room, Josephine and a maid had arrived with extra towels and blankets, which they spread over the bed. Genny was transferred from the stretcher to the bed, then to her consternation she heard Ethan thank everyone and tell them they could go.
She felt him sit down beside her. He took hold of her leg and pulled off her shoe. Its mate was resting forever at the bottom of the river. But when he pushed her skirts up to remove her garters and stockings she rebelled.
“Confound it!” she exclaimed, using one of her father’s pet oaths. “Will you strip me when I haven’t the wits to defend myself?”
She sprang up and away from him, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back. “Be still or by heaven I’ll throw you back into the river. Come here.”
He drew her closer to him, whereupon he unbuttoned the back of her gown and with difficulty pulled it over her head. “The next time you decide to go for a moonlight swim I hope you’ll be suitably attired.”
“It was that rat!” she said, her voice muffled in the folds of her dress.
“Who — Freddy?”
“A rat — a rodent! It ran under my dress and I fell off the dock.”
Ethan didn’t reply, but she knew he was smiling, probably laughing. She felt him untying her corset strings. Her knees shook. She’d been thoroughly frightened, and somehow it was all his fault.
“I can do the rest,” she said, going into the dressing room. She yanked off her drawers and petticoats, dried herself with a towel, and put on her nightgown. When she emerged from the dressing room, she saw that he’d thrown all the wet blankets and towels in a corner and had the bedcovers turned back. He was sitting in a chair, wreathed in shadows. A match flared as he lit his pipe, revealing his face to be almost haggard, more lined than she’d noticed before.
A wave of reluctant contrition struck her, but she stifled it and said sharply, “I reckon I could have drowned for all you care.”
He leaned his head back against the chair. “My dear Genny, every man down there was prepared to cast himself into the river to save you. I saw no sense in ruining a good suit.”
He sounded tired. He must have traveled long and hard to have arrived in the middle of the night as he had. Again she wondered why he had come, and a feeling of unease gripped her.
She strode quickly across to the dressing table and sat down. Her fingers plucked irritably at the wilted ribbons now tangled in her hair. She picked up her brush, took a swipe at the dampened mass, and dropped the brush. Ethan appeared behind her, dimly reflected in the mirror. He put down his pipe and picked up the brush.
“Let me do it.”
She sat perfectly still as he worked the tangles from her hair. How gentle his hands could be, she thought. She almost began to relax. She knew well how much he admired her long gold hair, and the idea struck her that she should take advantage of that this very minute; she should make him admire her; she should fight for him and make him forget that other woman. But how could she, why should she, when he had lied to her, and continued to lie to her every day by his actions…
He was breaking her down! How effortless it was for him, and what a weakling she was! Her posture stiffened and her gaze flicked nervously about the room. There it was…his baggage!
“You can’t mean to stay here tonight?”
He met her gaze in the mirror. “Where would you expect me to stay?”
She made no reply. He pulled out the last ribbon, put down the brush and picked up his pipe. She rose and walked uncertainly past him, opening the door to the balcony as though she would step outside. He moved around her and closed the door, saying mildly, “Don’t go out there. No sense in getting pneumonia again.”
Genny looked around the room a little wildly. There was nowhere to go, no escape from him.
He reached out and touched her face, making her look at him, then let his hand drop. “What are you afraid of, Genny?” he asked quietly.
“I’m not afraid of anything. I just never realized how — how final it all is. Marriage, I mean. I don’t think I was ready.”
He smoked and watched her. Then he said, very low, “As I said before, madam, it’s a little late for regrets.”
“Yes, but — but I must have time.”
“Time for what?” He, at last, began to show signs of impatience.
“I — I don’t know.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know.”
With one swift motion he caught her arm with such force that she was pulled up against him. She clutched at his shoulders to avoid losing her balance. “You can’t have forgotten what it was like between us,” he said.
No. She would never forget.
She resorted to the last weapon she could think of — tears, and gave vent to a wrenching wail. She jerked away and fled, flinging herself facedown on the bed. She knew she was behaving irrationally, she knew she must seem insane, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Gradually, her sobs of desperation became deep, wracking sobs of real grief, the sobs of a broken heart.
But by that time, Ethan had quietly left the room.
* * * *
Though she was considered exceptionally pretty, with her auburn hair and light green eyes, Josephine Hawkins had always been painfully shy in the presence of men. With Ethan Carey, she was practically tongue-tied. When a knock came on her bedroom door and she opened it to find him standing there, she felt her heart leap into her throat.
“Miss Josephine,” he said gravely, “I sincerely apologize for disturbing you, especially at this hour. There’s a small sitting room at the end of the hall. May I speak with you for a moment?”
She had just come to her room and, luckily, hadn’t yet undressed for bed. Downstairs, music still played in the ballroom.
“Of — of course.” He stepped aside and allowed her to precede him down the hall. A window seat and several chairs made a comfortable nook before a large bay window. He waited for her to seat herself, then sat easily across from her. She looked up at him.
“How is Genny, Dr. Carey?”
He hesitated. He looked worried, she thought. He glanced around to make sure there was no one within hearing distance. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the corridor, and all the doors were closed.
“I am in the unfortunate position of depending on you for information about my wife,” he began slowly.
Josephine went white. He was certainly going to ask about Genny’s behavior during her stay at the hotel. What in the world would she say?
“Genny hasn’t been herself lately,” he said, after a pause. “I wonder if she has told you anything, anything at all, that might be troubling her?”
“Why, no,” Josephine said with relief. “She hasn’t said anything. But you are quite right, Dr. Carey. She hasn’t been herself.”
“You’re her best
friend,” Ethan said, and smiled a little. “Please rest assured, I’m not asking you to betray a confidence. But if you have any idea what I could do to help her, I would not take it amiss if you would tell me.”
She couldn’t be embarrassed when he looked at her so kindly. She shook her head. “I really don’t know. It seemed to happen — ” She stopped, horrified at herself, and felt the blood rush into her face. She’d been about to say that it had happened immediately after their marriage.
“Yes?” he said, his gaze sharp and alert. “What were you going to say?”
“Only that it seemed to happen so suddenly. She was herself one day, and the next she was distant, and so very restless. She’s been going so fast from one day to the next I can scarcely keep up with her.”
He said nothing for a moment, seeming to sense there was nothing further she could tell him. He said, “If she tells you anything that you think I should know, I hope you will feel free to come to me. I’m very concerned about her.”
“Of course, Dr. Carey.”
Ethan stood up and held out his hand. Josephine took it, and got to her feet. “Genny and I will be leaving tomorrow. Would you like to return to Nashville with us?”
“I would like to, very much. I’ll be ready.”
He escorted her to her room, and gave her a friendly nod. “Thank you, Miss Josephine. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”
She could only shake her head as he opened the door for her, said, “Goodnight,” and left.
The next morning, Ethan told Genny to pack her things, which she did sullenly and with many yawns. She’d lain awake until two in the morning and he had not returned. When she mentioned it to him he said casually that he’d been playing cards with Mr. Fairchild and some other gentlemen…and then had his baggage moved to another room.
On the way home they stopped at her parents’ house, so that Ethan could meet the rest of her family. They didn’t stay long, but after the noon meal Ethan and her father talked for a while in his study. Lingering outside the door, Genny was unable to hear their conversation. When the door opened, she pretended to be walking past.