by Terri Lee
Frances laughed. “And do you remember I said to you, that I was sure there would be plenty of places to find alcohol?”
“I do. And so there is, my little chick-a-dee. So there is.” He took her by the hand and said over his shoulder, “Let’s go see a man about a dog.”
Frances was well aware of the slang term and giggled as they headed out in search of a drink.
***
The little club Frankie had in mind was hopping with music and merry making once they passed through the nondescript entranceway. The dancers were slightly less inhibited, as the alcohol worked in tandem with the undercover atmosphere to produce a more boisterous crowd.
Frances gave Frankie a wide-eyed grin. “I like it,” she said, as she took in her surroundings. It was very cozy.
He looked relieved. “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Do you know what you’d like to drink?”
“I’ll have a Mary Pickford,” Frances said without missing a beat.
“Lovely choice, my lady.” Frankie nodded as he left to fulfill her order. The two of them sat at a small table in a darkened corner and snuggled closely as they sipped their drinks.
“So when will I meet your parents?” Frankie looked over at her anxiously.
Poor thing, Frances thought. He thinks he’s just going to waltz right in and tell them he has a good job and they’ll welcome him with open arms.
“My father will be home on Thursday, so I plan on telling them both at breakfast, and then I’m sure we’ll be talking about having you to dinner.” Frances squeezed his arm as she gave him her best smile.
“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting your father.” Frankie tried to smile, but Frances could tell he was doing his best to cover his doubts.
“Just be prepared for a million questions.
My father approaches everything as if he’s entering into a business deal.”
“I’ll be fine.” Frankie soothed her worries.
She wished she could be as confident. But then she had a lifetime of experience to counter any optimism that might find its way up from the depths. She couldn’t fathom how anyone would not be impressed with the young man that Frankie was, but she was sure William and Lena would find a way.
“Of course, I won’t have much to say about my background, so that conversation should be short and sweet.” Frankie was saying with a lopsided grin. “Although I do remember the nuns told me that my mother was pretty sure that my father was a descendant of Robert E. Lee.” He finished proudly.
“Hmmm…” Frances squirmed. “I think that’s one thing that might not endear you to Good Old Daddy, who is an unapologetic Yankee. So it might be best to leave that under your hat for now.” She advised.
Frankie raised his eyebrows, but left it at that.
“So we have a couple more days to ourselves. What shall we do?” Frances queried, eager to change the subject.
“First of all,” Frankie said as he adopted her proper tone, “we shall have a dinner tomorrow night befitting a young woman of your stature. I’m going to treat you to a wonderful evening on the town. I’ve read about this particular restaurant in magazines for years and you’re just the sort of girl to take to a place like that. It’s called Delmonico’s. I suppose you’ve heard of it?” Frankie looked to her hopefully.
She wrinkled her nose slightly.”Yes, I have.” She placed her hand over Frankie’s hand and looked intently at him. She knew exactly what was going on here. “Look Frankie, it was the place to go for many years, but not anymore. Besides, it’s way too expensive. Secondly, I know what you’re trying to do.”
“What am I trying to do?”
“You think you have to take me to the most upscale places in the city because you think that’s what I’m used to and that’s what I need. It’s not what I need, or even what I want.”
“What do you want?” he asked quietly.
“To be with you. I’m the same girl I was last summer.” She stated unequivocally. It was the simple truth.
He brightened suddenly. “Alright then, I know a great little place in Chinatown.”
Frances nodded encouragingly. “A walk on the wild side? Now you’re talking.”
***
The pair enjoyed a few more nights in the shadows. Frankie walked Frances home after a night of dancing, stopping at the end of the block while keeping a safe distance from her front porch. She knew he was probably intimidated enough just seeing the house from a distance.
The large, stately manor rose from the darkness, presenting an imposing figure. Just standing at the foot of the grandiose home could be a cause for cold feet. She casually positioned herself so that when facing her, he would be facing away from the house. She hoped he would lose sight of the reason for his concern as he focused on her face in the lamplight. It worked.
“Tomorrow, then,” Frankie sighed.
“Tomorrow,” Frances echoed.
Frankie placed his fingers on her chin and tilted her head so that the golden glow of the streetlight framed her face. He leaned in and his lips sought their home. Frances rose on her tiptoes and circled her arms around his neck and answered his kiss with her own desire.
This was what a kiss was supposed to feel like, her heart told her brain. There was no second guessing about whether or not one felt anything or trying to analyze the emotions or lack thereof. There were only his lips on hers and the breath expelled by the two of them became one.
Frankie stood up straight leaning his head back to let the light shine on her face once more. He looked dreamily into her deep eyes. “Oh my God. I love you.” He exhaled the words as if he had exhausted all strength and could no longer contain them.
And there it was. He laid his heart at her feet. She matched him emotion for emotion.
“I love you too. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”
The two embraced, half hidden in the silhouette of the corner streetlight, while love provided the only backdrop that was needed. As they parted, fingertips stretching out to capture the last possible touch of skin, Frances didn’t know how in the world she would manage to get through another day until she saw him the next evening.
FIFTEEN
She would have liked to continue to live her life behind the scenes for as long as possible, but that wouldn’t be in the cards for her. This morning, she was prepared to speak with her parents about the situation. She prayed they were in a good mood as she sauntered into the dining room.
“Good morning, family.” She chirped as she began to fill her plate at the side buffet with fruit and toast. She set her coffee cup down gingerly and glanced at her parents who were both looking at her with astonishment as they tried to decipher the reason for her early morning gaiety.
“What is the reason for this level of cheeriness?” Lena asked.
“Can’t a girl say good morning?”
“Not this girl.” Lena looked at her with suspicion, and Frances frowned.
Just then, Charles burst into the room with the air of a young man on a mission.
“Good morning, family.” He grabbed a piece of bacon from the side board. “Mother.” He kissed Lena on the top of her head and she smiled up at him appreciatively. “Father.” William responded by lowering the paper to catch his son’s eye.
“And I see Kaiser Wilhem is back with us,” Charles addressed her. With their busy schedules, they had not seen one another since the evening at The Brocade Room.
“Brother-Dear.” Frances rolled her eyes.
“I don’t think I’m exaggerating one bit to link you with the likes of the German leader known for taking anything he wanted, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.”
“Very funny.”
“Well you mowed Graydon down with one fell swoop and he’s been licking his wounds for a week. Nope. Ol’ Kaiser Bill has nothing on my little sister.”
Lena smelled intrigue and looked up from her morning papers inquisitively at the sound of Graydon’s name. “What ha
ve you done now, Frances?”
“Why do you immediately assume I’ve done something wrong?”
“Because you have.” Charles interjected. “I’d love to stay and rehash the whole ugly incident, but I’ve got plans this morning.” He gulped down his coffee and rose from the table as swiftly as he had entered. Looking down at his sister with a look of sheer disappointment, he said, “Even you must admit that you’ve taken your rudeness to new heights.”
“I’m sorry,” she pouted.
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay, no I’m not.”
“And there you have it.” He waved a piece of bacon in the air as he hurried out of the room, leaving Frances to deal with the aftershock.
She might kill Charles, but that would have to wait. Now she would have to engage in a delicate dance to untangle the damage her brother had caused with his brief appearance.
“Let me explain.” She began.
“I’m all ears.” Lena devoted her full attention to her daughter, and William lowered the paper completely in order to have an unobstructed view.
“Well…” Oh, she was positively going to whack Charles over the head with a newspaper for putting her in this spot. She had worked so hard to plan her little speech for this morning and now he’d ruined everything. “I did go to The Brocade Room with Charles and Cassandra the other evening and yes, Graydon tagged along. But we most certainly were not on a date.”
“Go on.” William coaxed.
“We were dancing, and I happened to bump into an old friend. Someone I liked very much. He asked me to dance and I said yes. Graydon wasn’t happy about that and because he has such poor manners he apparently left without saying good-bye. It’s as simple as that.” There, that didn’t sound so bad when she put it in those terms.
Lena was squinting in her direction. “I seriously doubt if it was as simple as that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing is ever, as simple as that, with you. Just who is this ‘old friend’ that you liked very much?”
“His name is Frank Lee.” Frances stiffened in preparation for the response.
Lena snorted. “I knew it.” She turned to William and the look that passed between them said volumes.
“Frances, I believe you had your little fling last summer. Now it’s time for you to get serious about your future.” William spoke up.
“I am serious.” She leaned over her plate and searched her father’s face. “I love him.” She hadn’t quite meant to play that card just yet, but there it was on the table. William was left flabbergasted at the unexpected declaration, but Lena had no problems picking up the gauntlet.
“Nonsense.” Lena huffed. “You cannot be serious about that young man. He couldn’t possibly have anything to offer.”
“He has everything to offer me. And yes, I’m very serious, Mother. I know it’s hard for you to comprehend that I could love someone who isn’t a card-carrying member of the Polo Club, but Frankie is head and shoulders above the likes of your precious pompous ass Graydon Harris.”
“Watch your tone, young lady.” William’s voice rose to match his daughter’s agitation. Raised voices were not the norm in the Durant household. There was no need for raised voices when people were mostly busy ignoring one another.
“I’m sorry.” Frances acquiesced to her father. Speaking in a softer tone, she turned to address her mother with an unrelenting gaze. “But know this, I will never be Mrs. Pompous Ass.”
Lena drew in her breath sharply. “Are you quite finished trying to shock me with how crude you can be?”
“No.” Frances continued unfazed. “I haven’t even begun.”
“I know that you live to annoy me.” Lena fussed with her napkin in a bid for sympathy.
“Yes, Mother. That is the goal of my every waking moment. I wake up in the morning and ask myself how I can annoy Lena today. My every thought circles around you.” Frances had a full head of steam now and she would not be stopped. “You know nothing about Graydon other than the rumors concerning the size of his bank account. He is a small-minded, petty, little man who treats anyone that he deems to be beneath him with nothing but disdain. I can only imagine that after several years of marriage, a wife would naturally fall into that category. So thanks, but no thanks.”
“That will be enough.” William was quite used to the thrust and parry that more often than not accompanied any conversations between these two women. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he continued in a calm manner, hoping to lure Frances into seeing the implausibility of her school-girl dreams.
“Frances, I can appreciate that you do not have any romantic feelings for Graydon Harris. Duly noted. But that does not mean that you have to run off with the delivery boy.”
“What?” She answered with contempt. “He’s not a delivery boy. He has a good job at a bank. He’s every bit as respectable as Graydon.”
She saw Lena roll her eyes.”What if Gran and Papa had put their foot down about you? You were not exactly the most acceptable choice for their son.” She heard the quick intake of breath and she saw the words still stung Lena’s pride even after all these years. Good. Let her sit with the truth about her own unacceptability for a moment. Frances was too consumed with her own hurt feelings to worry about her mother’s. “But Father fought for you, because he was in love.”
“That was different.” Lena turned up her nose.
“Why, because it was you?”
“No, because times were different. It is a different world now. That… that was a long time ago.” Lena finished, sounding flustered.
“That might have been a long time ago, but love has not changed.”
“Enough.” William held up his hand. “There is no need for further discussion. I know nothing of this young man—”
“That’s my point.” Frances interrupted. “I want you to get to know him. Father, I’m sure you’ll like him very much.”
“Who are his parents?” William stared at his daughter.
She knew she was being led into a trap. “His parents are dead.”
“Well then, who were his parents?” William answered with exasperation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lee, I would imagine.”
“Frances, don’t be fresh.” Her father was not amused.
“He doesn’t know anything about his parents. He was raised in an orphanage.” She sat back in her chair with a defeated slump and her arms crossed over her chest.
William looked at her over the rim of his glasses as he prepared to dismiss his daughter. “I’m not interested in meeting this young man, Frances. I’ve dealt with more than my share of gold-diggers.”
Frances caught her breath as the arrows slung at Frankie pierced her own heart. The insult had her sitting up straight. “He’s not a gold-digger. He’s the most honorable man I’ve ever met.” She could feel her cheeks growing hotter.
“Well that’s nice to hear, but he will not be dating my daughter.”
William plowed forth seeing she was on the ropes. “We are not saying that you must entertain any further thoughts about dating Graydon, but there are several young men from fine families for you to choose from. It’s best to nip this in the bud before you get in any deeper.”
“What if I don’t want to nip it in the bud?”
“I believe I’ve said all I need to say on the subject.” William folded his paper.
“And that’s it? End of discussion?” Frances looked incredulously from one parent to the other.
“Yes, it most certainly is the end of the discussion. You will not continue to see this Frank What’s-His-Name. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” William’s voice rose to a threatening level as he rose from the table, shutting down any further debate.
“Perfectly.”
SIXTEEN
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
“Tell me, my child.” The soft Irish brogue danced easily from Father McDevitt’s lips and floated through the small metal
grille that separated the penitent and her confessor.
On her knees, with head bowed, she answered in the safety of her anonymity. “I have lied.” And so began Frances’s unburdening of the weight on her heart over her situation.
“Ah, the well of lies is a bottomless pit, don’t ye know.” Father sighed after she had finished. “Ye lie about a little thing and then ye lie about another little thing and then ye lie to cover up the lie, and pretty soon ye find ye cannot look the Lord in the eye, so ye try to justify the lie, and so it goes, eh?”
“Exactly, Father.”
“The only thing to be done is to stand up straight and look the lie in the face and say I won’t have anything more to do with ye. Be gone.”
“That’s what I want to do. Stand up straight.”
“Of course it’s what ye want to do. Your heart belongs to God. It does not want to be a liar. That is why your heart brought ye here today. Your soul knows that lies are like barnacles on a ship. They are ugly little things that attach themselves to the bottom of the boat. And while everything looks all pretty on the surface, underneath things are beginning to rot.”
Frances lowered her head and smiled to herself. She adored Father McDevitt. He was a born storyteller, and she loved how everyday ordinary English words took on a new life when they came twisting and turning off of his Irish tongue.
“The Lord is waiting to forgive ye. He wants to forgive ye right where ye are, as long as it is your intention to turn around from this lie and come to Him with a clean heart.”
“Yes Father, that is my intention.”
“Well then, tell the Lord you’re sorry.”
Frances gave voice to her prayer of contrition while Father McDevitt, using the authority given to him from his Lord, prescribed her penance and absolved her of her sins.
“Ego te absolve a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” The Latin words fell on her bowed head and in that brief moment she was new.
“Amen.”
She quietly closed the door to the confessional and made her way to a pew in the middle of the church as she prepared to say her prayers. Kneeling with the perfectly straight back learned from years of practice, she looked up to the large mosaic murals swirling overhead with images of heaven dancing before her eyes.