Marry in Haste

by Susan Van Kirk

“Sure. I’ll give him another five minutes.”

  “That’s the Grace I know.”

  “Say, I just thought of something I want to mention to you. Before I forget, I took a peek ahead in Olivia’s diary. I’ll try to read it tonight instead of skimming. Evidently, she went to the library after the honeymoon, and picked up copies of Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities and Twain’s Life on the Mississippi—a book she planned to reread. Remember when you read the Dickens book for a book report in high school?”

  “Do I. I think you made me rewrite that report twice. Something about sloppy editing and proofreading. Never could quite put one by you, Grace. Never paid to write it the night before or morning of.”

  “If my rapidly disintegrating memory serves me right, you hated that Dickens book. I believe you said something about how ridiculous it was for Sydney Carton to sacrifice his life for true love.”

  “Yuck. Even now it makes me want to throw up.”

  Grace shook her head, although TJ couldn’t see it. “You were never a romantic, TJ.”

  She could hear her friend laughing through the phone. “I’m sitting in Emily’s driveway, so I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  After removing her winter coat, Grace sat at Emily’s kitchen table and watched the coffee drip into the pot. Time to bring up the question of Will and Conrad.

  “What do you want to know, exactly?” Emily asked.

  “I guess I’m just curious about their relationship over the years. I know you only have Conrad’s version before Will and Darlene returned, but what was your take on it all?”

  Emily laughed, a low, muffled sound. “Um . . . I liked Will when he first returned to town. I was prepared not to like him from the way Conrad had described him to me. Will was always in trouble in high school—smoking weed and drinking. His grades were quite average, although Conrad said he was way more intelligent than that. I guess Will just didn’t care.”

  “I imagine it did not endear him to Father Folger.”

  “Not at all.” Emily got up and brought the coffeepot over to the table, pouring into each of their cups. “If Conrad had it right, Will and their father had huge arguments about Will’s grades and his absences from the house. Conrad always said Will was really arrogant and impossible when he’d been drinking or smoking pot. I guess he had the genetic propensity for addiction. But, still, his father got him into an Ivy League school and pushed him to be a lawyer or go to medical school. Sometimes I think Will’s problems stemmed from his father favoring Conrad over him.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe things would have been different if Will had simply become the banker instead of Conrad.”

  Grace finished another bite of her lemon meringue pie. She put her fork down and asked, “So, how did college go for him?”

  “As you might imagine, not well. His father could get him into the prestigious school, but he couldn’t keep him there. Once in college, Will discovered cocaine. Now this part of the story I know because Will told me. His father pulled him out and paid for a stint in a private rehab facility. To Conrad, he complained bitterly that Will could never do anything right, and he would always be at the mercy of his weaknesses and hedonistic pleasures. I remember the speech by my father-in-law because I had to look up ‘hedonistic,’ ” Emily said, her face reddening.

  “Did he finish college?”

  “Eventually, but not then. He disappeared one night.”

  “What? Disappeared?”

  “Yes.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took another sip of coffee before she continued. “No one knew where he was or anything about him for years. They came home, oh, sometime in the early 2000s, maybe 2002 or 2003. He and Darlene, that is. We knew nothing about her until he showed up.”

  “Amazing. Suddenly, you have a brother-in-law again, as well as a new sister-in-law you didn’t know you had.”

  “Yes. He told us he had gone to Mexico when he left college and almost died of an overdose of bad drugs he’d bought on the street. It changed him. The doctor in the clinic took an interest in his situation and helped him. Eventually, he became stronger as he cleaned out the drugs from his system. I imagine it took a staggering effort.” Emily paused, as if thinking what to say next. “When he left Mexico, he decided to search for Darlene, another addict he’d met while he was in rehab during college. He found her, and, fortunately, she was sober too. She already had a job, and he got work to save up and finish college, which he did. But they always scraped for money to pay the bills. Now that I’ve seen how Darlene spends it, I can understand why. He was determined never to lean on his father or ask him for help. As time went by, his decision caused friction in their marriage, so Darlene suggested they come back here and look up Conrad. By then their father had died, and Will knew he wouldn’t have to face him. But he was anxious about Conrad’s reception.”

  “I can’t imagine Conrad was all that happy to see his ne’erdo-well brother,” Grace said.

  Emily took a deep breath. “Actually, I was surprised, Grace. I thought his reaction would be negative. But, you know, his parents had died, and his sister was nowhere to be found. He was an orphan, for all purposes. He saw Will as a companion, a confidant, and someone he could count on, at least at first.”

  Grace looked up with a puzzled glance. “What do you mean, ‘at first’?”

  “As time went by,” Emily mused, “Will and Darlene’s characters became more pronounced. You know, the happy prodigal brother homecoming began to wear thin. First of all, Darlene means well, but she will always be a social climber. Endurance doesn’t provide much of a climb, and you saw her schmooze the bank trustees at Conrad’s funeral. Disgusting and nauseating.” Emily looked down at her hands and seemed to reconsider. “I shouldn’t say such things. She means well. I know she volunteers at one of the hospitals in Woodbury. Will, as time went by, still had a drinking problem. He and Conrad would sometimes argue bitterly, especially when Will—or both of them—had had too much to drink.”

  “I know he has a reputation in town for closing one or two bars.”

  “Yes. Even I knew that. Conrad gave him the VP job at the bank and figured the responsibility would straighten him out. But I know Conrad. I’m sure he gave Will all the garbage needing to be fixed, and no matter what was wrong between the brothers, Darlene always defended her husband. So Conrad didn’t spend much time around her. However, I have to admit Will’s been kind to me when I needed kindness.”

  Grace refilled their coffee and then turned and asked, “Emily, did you observe anything unusual at young Conrad’s birthday party a few weeks ago?”

  “Unusual? What do you mean?”

  “I had the impression Will was upset at the party. And I’ve heard from local gossip—not necessarily accurate, of course—that Will was doing decently with the booze until that party. Then he seemed to hit it pretty hard again. Did anything strange happen? Anything that might have set him off?”

  Emily thought for a moment. “Nothing really comes to mind.” She took her last bite of pie and chewed it slowly as she searched her memory. “Oh, wait. I did notice a rather nasty expression pass between Will and Darlene. Conrad had given his usual rambling speech about how his son was now eleven and soon would head into more responsibility with junior high and high school on the horizon. He declared he planned to send Conrad off to college and have him come back and run the bank for the next generation. As usual, it was Conrad talking crazy about things that might never happen. What if our son didn’t want to be a banker? I think after Conrad’s long speech, I noticed Will glance at Darlene with some ‘I told you so’ kind of look. Whatever it was, she briefly shook her head as if to say, ‘We’ll not discuss this here.’ ”

  “Well,” said Grace. “It’s something to think about. Will was always the soul of kindness when I had business dealings with him.”

  Emily considered Grace’s remark, paused, and then said quietly, “However, I’ve seen Will when he’s been angry, and I am sure he expected to take over t
he bank when Conrad retired. Will got a late start in the business, and he believed he could outlast Conrad eventually.”

  “Quite ambitious of him. Maybe it was the alcohol talking.”

  “With or without the liquor to give him courage, Will’s been quite open about his future at the bank. He just hasn’t agreed with Conrad about what it will be.”

  “And,” Grace added, “I hate to think this, but now that Conrad has passed away, if anything happens to you, Will becomes the guardian for the children, including the heir apparent.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Did it occur to you because of the accident on the road the other night?”

  “Possibly. Will doesn’t have a great alibi for the time of the accident, and he has a dark SUV. I just don’t know how far he’d go.”

  “I’d like to think not far enough to kill me!” Emily answered, and she chuckled at the thought.

  “It might not be as funny as you think, Emily. Someone made sure you would be in my car.”

  “True,” Emily said, and looked out the window, her mood changed.

  Grace gave her a moment and then made up her mind. “Say, your children are gone tonight, Lettie is back on her one good foot, and the other one kind of works. She can cook, thank goodness, and she has been slow roasting a turkey all day. Why don’t you come over and join us for dinner, say around seven? She’s also been watching Eliot Ness, TJ’s cat, and she can show you some of the crazy cat tricks she’s been teaching him. Eliot keeps Lettie busy, and anything that does that keeps her out of my hair.”

  Before Emily could answer, the phone rang. She gestured to Grace as if to say, “Hold that thought,” and picked up the phone. Grace started to clear the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

  “Oh, hi, Darlene,” Emily said. She listened for a long time. “No, I can’t. I love Will too, but I can’t lie.” Then more listening, after which Emily said, “I don’t know what you’re going to do. I’m sorry. Probably find him a good lawyer would be a start. And Darlene—” She stopped talking and hung the phone up.

  “Trouble?”

  “Darlene hung up on me. She sounded angry. She says the feds have decided to charge Will with those fraudulent bank loans, and he will go to prison for a long time. And then she said, ‘Conrad will get away with this, too’—I suppose she means because he’s dead. Then she said, ‘He’s always gotten away with everything and left Will holding the bag for years.’ ”

  “Oh, my. Did you realize she felt that way?”

  Emily shook her head. “No, Grace. I feel really bad for both of them. I wish there were something I could do.”

  “What did you mean about lying?”

  “Oh. She wanted me to lie and say Conrad had forged Will’s signature. And then she could bring me some papers showing Conrad had been practicing writing Will’s signature. Of course, he hadn’t, but she thought it might be a way to get Will out of this serious trouble.”

  Grace walked over to Emily, who was standing by the sink, her shoulders stooped over and her eyes welling up with tears. She gave her a hug and said, “You are right. You can’t lie.” She pulled back and looked into Emily’s eyes. “If Will’s done this, he’s going to have to pay the penalty. Maybe it’s just my age, but I think parents too often try to get their children out of trouble because they love them, of course. And it usually doesn’t come to a good end. Think of those years your father-in-law did that for both Will and Conrad. Eventually, as they say, ‘the chickens come home to roost.’ ”

  “I know you’re right, Grace, but I still feel bad for Will. Not so much for Darlene,” said Emily, and then she laughed, and Grace did too.

  “Yes, I’ve only met Darlene once and she is, as you said, ‘a force of nature.’ Maybe she’ll find a great lawyer and a way to get Will out of this.”

  “I’ll wait for the kids to get home from school and my parents to arrive and take them to Williamsburg. So, I will be at your house by, say, seven tonight, and thank you for the invitation. I’m feeling so much better these days, since I am putting my life back into focus, one step at a time. I still have a hard time making decisions, but it is becoming easier. And you’ve helped me do that, Grace. Thank you for staying beside me, especially when other people didn’t.”

  Grace hugged Emily again. “No problem. Seven o’clock.”

  “Yes,” said Emily. “See, I will write it on my chalkboard by the phone. ‘7 p.m. Grace’s.’ It’s part of my new effort at organization. My brain is less fuzzy these days, but I still forget things. See you tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Only two more months of depressing weather, Grace brooded, and she looked out the window of her bedroom, where dusk was turning on the streetlights. We’re at the end of January and that means it should be possible to suffer through two more months, but survive. The days will start getting longer, and it won’t be dark so early. Thaw, freeze, thaw, freeze. This day was a freeze.

  Grace sat on her bed, a pillow behind her back, watching the view out her window. Eliot was curled up on the corner of the afghan, snoozing away. She reached over and pulled Olivia’s diary from the end-table drawer, put on her gloves, and planned to resume where she had left off, but as she turned the pages she found her mind wandering to the missing Jeff Maitlin. Where could he be? And why hasn’t he called? I suppose I shouldn’t worry. He’ll call when he’s ready. She sighed, and looked back down at Olivia’s words.

  15 November, 1893

  We have been back in Endurance for four weeks—the requisite wedding photographs, my parents for dinner, a special ball where I wore my wedding dress, and new “at home” cards. I am well cared for by my personal maid, Jonalyn Heaton, even though it has been strange getting used to someone else performing the offices that will make my life smoother. We do not discuss my bruises, but occasionally I feel her eyes rest upon me as she helps me dress. The rest of the household runs like a clock due to her husband, Robert, who is the butler and the judge’s man, and the housekeeper, Rose Hernshaw. It was difficult at first since they are twice my age, but I believe we will manage. They are well trained and I simply make decisions about menus, dresses, and special occasions. I missed the canning season, when my family and I would be working together over the hot kitchen stove.

  I have come to believe this life is all pretense and appearances. The ladies at the social clubs exclaim I have such a generous and well-mannered husband. They do not see the bruises on my arms and on other places I hesitate to name, or worse, the bruises on my heart. My husband still confuses me with his strange behavior. He says he wants children, yet he is so violent about that aspect of our lives. After he has lost his temper and hurt me, he sends me flowers or buys me a bauble to wear. I no longer have tears for the pain.

  One of my old girlfriends, from when I first came here, is officially betrothed. I feel as if it is a death sentence. But no one warns a woman before she signs the papers and is locked in marriage. No one warned me. This life is so different from that of my parents. Often I wonder why.

  I look in the mirror in my bathing room and can already see my loss of weight. Because I do not sleep well, I have dark circles under my eyes. Yesterday, I found the courage to ask Jonalyn if the judge also hurt his first wife. I would not have dared to ask that question of her when I was first married, but we have become closer since she attends to my needs. As my question hung in the air, I noticed a dark look come over her face. Then quickly it disappeared. She only spoke in vague terms about his treatment of his first wife, Jane, but it is enough. She whispered, “He did not know yet she was with child.” I did not know what to say. My parents will be here for a Christmas Open House. I must look better, more rested, by then.

  I went to the library today for the first time since we returned from Chicago, and Mr. Beasley, the librarian, did not recognize me in my thinner version. I have brought home Mr. Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities and Mr. Twain’s Life on the Mississippi. I plan to reread Mr. Twain’s book—pe
rhaps it will cheer me up. On the other hand, it may remind me of the first time I read it, just prior to my life changing forever. I wonder if I will laugh as hard at Mr. Twain’s antics. Mr. Quinn was at the library, and we conversed briefly. Now that I am a married woman, he is cordial, but distant. I could tell from his facial expression that he is concerned. Do I really look so changed?

  I am pleased I have my journal, for this is the best gift my mother could have given me. Sometimes she does not seem so far away when I write. I cannot tell my aunt about my life. After all, I made the decision to marry.

  Today I asked Mr. Heaton for tools to fix a buckle on one of my slippers. He offered to help, but I explained that I worked with my brothers on leather goods for the horses. Then I used his tools to pry open a loose floorboard in my bedroom and found a small area in which to hide my journal. Sometimes I wonder if the servants can hear my husband’s anger or see my tears. If they can, they do not mention their thoughts. At times I despair when I consider how long this life may be.

  Grace closed the diary and thought about the connection she felt with Olivia. She admired her for not complaining about the horrifying situation she was in. In the 1800s, she had no help. Once married, she was in “wedlock.” No getting out of it as easily as it happens today.

  Perhaps she will find an ally in her personal maid, Jonalyn. It seems as if they are becoming close despite their class distinctions. After all, Olivia was never raised to be an upper-class woman. So much of what she has written about her husband is similar to what I have heard from Emily—over a century apart but experiencing the same symptoms of abuse by their husbands. I guess I’ll never know why the judge felt as if he needed to hurt his wives, but, of course, he was a powerful man back then. And often with power comes the feeling you can do anything and get away with it. How many times have we seen that in this time period? Grace thought.

  How bittersweet that she had met Tyler again, but Endurance was a small town. Yet she never looked back with regret, nor did she pity herself. At least she didn’t write about it. Perhaps Emily would find the strength, too, to become a woman who could handle whatever life handed her.