The Last Princess

by Cynthia Freeman

  “Darling, you really should get some fresh air. It’s lovely today—how about a picnic?”

  “Lily, please, I’m in the middle of a chapter.”

  “When do you think you might be through with it?”

  “I don’t know,” he returned irritably. “A day or two, maybe.”

  Gently she touched his shoulder. “Harry, I understand what it means when the creative urge hits you, but couldn’t you try to sandwich your family in between strikes? We all miss you—you haven’t even had dinner with us in two weeks. Don’t you feel that you owe it to the children?”

  “Look, Lily, I’m not a train. I don’t run on a schedule.”

  For a moment she felt like slapping him. But just as she resisted the urge with her children, she resisted it with her husband, saying mildly, “Harry, I know that, but can’t you take it a little easier? There’s no rush for you to finish. We have enough money from Archie Sanger to last us for years, and Ellis says that Redemption will bring in at least as much, and probably more.”

  “‘Ellis says, Ellis says’! He’s not God, Lily!”

  Instantly she dropped her hand and stepped back. “All right,” she said tightly. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

  As soon as she had left, Harry felt tremendous remorse; the hurt in her voice had penetrated even his self-absorption. He knew he was neglecting his family and he could no longer use financial need as an excuse. But no matter how he tried to analyze his compulsion to keep writing, he couldn’t change his behavior. He knew that it was absurd to drive himself so hard now, yet every minute he spent away from his typewriter made him feel intolerably guilty. Worst of all, he couldn’t seem to accept Lily’s constant attempt to reassure him that time away from work was not just idle and self-indulgent. Still, he would have to try. He ripped the sheet from the machine, balled it up, and flung it into the wastebasket. He walked down the hall and entered the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, darling. Please forgive me.”

  She did, but the barrier remained. A little while later he went back to his office and, as always, she sought comfort in the children, gratefully taking them outside to play.

  Still, that evening she was able to forget the hurts and embrace Harry with genuine warmth. For a day or two Harry seemed to make a genuine effort to spend time with her. But it wasn’t long before he slipped back into his old habits. The muffled clattering of his typewriter formed a haunting background to her intense loneliness. She had never dreamed it would be like this once Harry had become a success. This was worse than the old days with the pressure to publish enough articles to pay the bills—and infinitely worse than the months he had spent in New York. Then she had hope for the future, the future she was now living in despair.

  The children were now all in school all day and she no longer even had Melissa to share her time with. She had never prepared herself for this departure. Why, only yesterday they had been chubby babes in arms, and now they marched off happily to hop onto a big yellow bus, while she was left behind with tears in her eyes. Perhaps Harry shared her loss, but he just saw their leaving as a natural growth which happily gave him a good eight hours of peace and quiet in which to work. For Lily, the children represented all she had. It seemed to take hours every morning to recover from her sense of loss. The children were not just a part of her life—they were her life. The shortages caused by the war curtailed her elaborate meals and Harry opposed her doing any more for the war effort than rolling bandages at the local Red Cross. Suddenly she glimpsed her existence ten years from now, when the children would be leaving home for good. Since Harry wouldn’t hear of her returning to work, she didn’t even have that to anticipate to help fill the coming void. Lily was merely an appendage of the other five people in the house. And when the children were gone, what would her role be? It was a frightening thought.

  But though she knew she should try to talk through her feelings with Harry, she kept putting it off. Someday, she kept telling herself. In the meantime, she did her best to keep her household calm and happy, and over the next few years she did succeed.

  Chapter 18

  IN SOME WAYS SHE and Harry seemed to have come to terms with each other. She no longer chastised him for his remoteness and he, in turn, felt a guilty relief at no longer having to apologize constantly. But she never told him how lonely she’d become and Harry never confessed his feelings of failure in the midst of his success.

  He finished Mountains; Ellis predicted it would sell even more strongly than the previous books. Lily occupied herself with the PTA and all the children’s after-school activities. In fact, the children were the only area where she and Harry still openly disagreed. And it seemed that Jeremy was the focus of their differences, for Harry persisted in his belief that the reason for the poor performance in school was sheer laziness.

  If Harry had centered his efforts on his second son rather than his first, Lily felt it would have been far more appropriate, for Drew was obviously brilliant. Even methodical Randy was a far better student than Jeremy. But Harry somehow never worried about them, nor imperious little Melissa.

  Once in a while, Lily wondered if Harry was unconsciously repeating his father’s error of singling out one child to bear the brunt of his own frustrations. In any event, what concerned her was the effect on little Jeremy.

  With Mountains finished, Harry seemed, for a brief period at least, more relaxed. One evening he sat next to Lily before the fire and said, “I’d almost forgotten how wonderful it is to not be at the typewriter.”

  “Oh, darling, you have no idea how much it means to all of us. The children just love having you at dinner.”

  “Speaking of the children, Lily, I don’t want to rake over old coals, but we really must talk about Jeremy.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s just not doing well in school.”

  “He’s doing just fine.”

  “Fine! I saw his last report card, and it was abysmal.”

  “It wasn’t abysmal. He got two Cs and the rest Bs.”

  “And you’re satisfied with that?”

  “Yes, I am!”

  Harry got up and began pacing the floor. “That’s absurd, Lily. He’s much smarter than that. I don’t think the local school is right for him.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the school. Look how the other boys are doing.”

  “Exactly. You keep telling me that the boys are different—well, I think Jeremy needs more discipline than the others. I think we should send him to a military school.”

  “Over my dead body!” Lily almost shouted.

  “Why are you being so blind? Don’t you realize that one day Jeremy will have to make his own way in the world? He’ll never survive if you don’t stop protecting him. I want him to be able to compete, to win. That’s what it’s all about, Lily, winning!”

  Lily felt tremendous anger, anger she hadn’t realized she was capable of, toward Harry. “The answer is no! You will not send Jeremy to a military academy. I was sent away for years and it was terrible. I want you to leave Jeremy alone—let him grow up to be a happy person, for God’s sake.”

  Lily jumped up, ran into her bedroom, and slammed the door.

  After a moment’s shocked silence, Harry got up and went into the bedroom, where Lily lay facedown on the bed, crying into her pillow.

  Kneeling beside her, he said, “Lily, I’m sorry—I just thought it might be best for the boy.”

  “It’s not best for him,” she sobbed. “It’s not best for him to be sent away from his home and his mother.”

  “Okay, okay! Have it your way,” he exploded. “But if Jeremy’s marks this next term don’t show a big improvement, he’s going to some kind of prep school.”

  Harry spent a cold night on the sofa and was up very early the next morning. After dressing quickly, he dialed Ellis’s number and asked without preamble, “Are you free for lunch?”

  “Sure. Say, one o’clock?”

  He could h
ardly wait to get out of the house. Usually his and Lily’s grievances were short-lived, but for some reason, the subject of Jeremy stuck in his craw. He hoped lunch with Ellis would restore his good humor and perhaps his sense of proportion. One reason Harry was so furious with Lily was that even though her own method of raising Jeremy might be flawed, Harry knew his was equally at fault.

  After ordering, Ellis and Harry talked a while about the current sales figures for Mountains. “It’s doing even better than the others.” Ellis smiled. “You’re going to make a mint.”

  Harry shrugged. “The review in the Times wasn’t so good.”

  “Come on, all they said was that the central character wasn’t as sharply etched as Archie Sanger. Other than that, it was quite favorable. Don’t take it all so much to heart.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Ellis laughed. “Your problem is that you’re never satisfied. The Atlantic loved it. You can’t please everyone.” Then, looking at him more closely, Ellis asked, “Harry, what else is bothering you?”

  “It’s Lily,” said Harry, realizing the reason he’d come in for lunch was to share his problem. “She and I … well, the fact of the matter is we’ve been going round and round about Jeremy. I think that the boy should go away to school, and she is vehemently opposed to having any of the children leave home. It’s the only thing we ever fight about.”

  “Well, she’s terribly devoted to those children.”

  “That’s all fine, but I think she wants to keep them tied to her apron strings forever, and she mollycoddles Jeremy to death.”

  “How old is the boy? Eleven? Maybe she thinks he’s a little young to go away.”

  Stubbing out his cigarette viciously, Harry frowned. “Yes, but dammit, he just isn’t doing well at the school he’s going to. Lily’s a wonderful mother—and a wonderful wife, the best—but she just doesn’t crack the whip. They run the house, not she.”

  “From what I’ve seen, Jeremy seems like a rather quiet, tractable kid,” Ellis said quietly. “Perhaps Lily doesn’t feel he would benefit from more discipline.”

  Barely hearing the other man’s words, Harry continued. “He’s a smart boy. And by God, he’s going to make it, or else!”

  “Like his father,” Ellis said ironically.

  But the gentle sarcasm was lost on Harry. “I don’t mean to bore you with my problems, Ellis. It’s just that Lily and I so rarely argue. I don’t want to make her unhappy, but I just don’t feel I can give in on this issue. What the hell should I do?”

  Ellis paused reflectively. “Well, you probably won’t change her mind by arguing, but maybe you can alter her point of view. Isolated out there on the farm, she’s gotten so close to the children that she may have lost her sense of proportion. Perhaps you all need a change.”

  “Like what, a vacation?”

  “Have you ever thought of moving? The war in Europe is almost over and when it ends in the Pacific there’s going to be an enormous housing shortage. Now is a perfect time to make an investment.”

  “Leave the farm?”

  “Is that such a radical idea? The farmhouse is charming, and I know how happy you’ve been there—but one of these days, now that there isn’t any financial imperative, you might like to scale back on your writing schedule and move a little closer to the city. I think that perhaps what Lily needs is some new interests.”

  Harry looked at him with dawning interest. “A new house? You know, it’s incredible, but I’ve never thought of it. We’ve lived on the farm for so long.”

  “You’ve had such tunnel vision, Harry. You’ve worked like a demon. Not that as your agent I want to discourage you, but as your friend I think that both you and Lily could benefit from being less isolated.”

  As they ate their lunch, Harry mused. “I don’t want to live in Manhattan, I know that much. I can’t write when there are so many temptations and distractions.” A sudden vision of his parents’ brownstone loomed before him.

  Thoughtfully, Ellis said, “You know, I saw a property in Greenwich not too long ago that was the most magnificent piece of real estate. If I were married with children, I would have bought it on the spot.” Continuing, he rhapsodized, “Ten of the most verdant, beautiful acres on God’s green earth. A low, rolling meadowland which gradually sweeps up to the crest of a hill and at the summit, the panorama is indescribable, bluish-purple mountains to the west, a lake to the east which is so clear and calm that it reflects the sky and the trees like a mirror, and when the sun rises over it in a blaze of pinks and golds, well, you just have to see it.”

  Forgetting that Ellis too had been a writer, Harry was startled to hear him so lyrical about a country property.

  “And you think it might be right for Lily and me?”

  “I can’t imagine a more beautiful setting.” Ellis choked back the next words: “for Lily.” He could picture her in a lovely white frame house, with roses rioting over the veranda and smooth lawns stretching down to the beach. She would give it the same warmth and graciousness she had the farm, he thought enviously, little dreaming of the imposing modern house that had leapt into Harry’s mind.

  “By God, I’m going to go see it this afternoon,” Harry exclaimed. “Who’s handling the property?”

  As he bid Ellis good-bye, his head was awhirl with his new idea. Damned if Ellis wasn’t right! He and Lily deserved to enjoy the fruits of his success. Until the publication of The Mountains Roared, Harry himself had been afraid to accept his financial worth, but now, with the final novel of the trilogy firmly perched atop the bestseller list, he could admit that he was not only a famous author but also a very wealthy man. He had once promised Lily he’d buy her the moon. Well, he could start by getting her an estate like the one where she’d lived as a child.

  Strangely, as he drove through Westchester, the image of Lily faded, to be replaced by a picture of his father. And the house of his dreams was nothing like the warm, happy home Lily would have wanted but was instead a stark, modern showplace that would convince Benjamin Kohle that his youngest son had made it big without any help from his father. He began to dream of a glass palace, perhaps designed by Mies van der Rohe. And when it was finished, he would have a party that would set Manhattan on its ear. It would be the social event of the year.

  It was late in the afternoon when he finally stood at the top of the hill and surveyed the panorama, even more magnificent than Ellis had said. The vista left him awestruck.

  Taking one last look, he ran down the rolling slope through the meadow with a sense of freedom he had never felt before and jumped into his car. This was his—and he had to secure it before someone else discovered it. He didn’t even flinch when the agent told him. “The price is three hundred thousand dollars.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he wrote out a check for fifty thousand as a deposit. This would be a total surprise for Lily, a wonderful surprise.

  When Harry arrived home in a state of euphoria, all the discord was completely forgotten. He and Lily embraced and forgave each other, and made love that night.

  The next day, as soon as the bus had disappeared, Harry said gaily, “Lily, darling, I’m not going to work today. I just feel like going for a drive. I want to celebrate.”

  “What are we celebrating?” Lily asked, bemused.

  “You and me.”

  Laughingly, she said, “Okay. Shall I bring a picnic with champagne?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  As they drove along, Lily’s spirits rose even higher. Harry was as charming as the night they met. They talked about a multitude of inconsequential things, for the first time in a long time. It was as though they were getting to know each other once again, and Lily was so happy that she paid no attention to where they were going until Harry pulled off a country road, saying, “This looks like a good place for a picnic.”

  They set off down the narrow lane hand in hand.
The meadow, facing Long Island Sound, was the color of ripe wheat and scores of sailboats dotted the water.

  As they stood in rapt silence admiring the view, Lily became aware of a feeling of expectancy. It was as if Harry were waiting for her approval. “Have you been here before?” she asked.

  When he didn’t answer, her suspicion grew. “Harry, what is going on?”

  He turned to her and she saw that his eyes were alight with excitement. “Darling, I wanted it to be a surprise. I bought this property yesterday, Lily. Don’t you love it?”

  “For us—to live on?” she asked incredulously.

  “Can you think of a more magnificent site to build our dream house?”

  “That’s not the point. You bought this property without even asking me? Harry, how could you? Doesn’t my opinion count for anything with you anymore? Suppose I hated this place?”

  “I thought you would be thrilled,” he shot back defensively. “I only wanted to surprise you!”

  “You might have asked me what I thought would make me happy. Have you ever heard me express a desire for a dream house?”

  For a moment they stared at each other angrily. Then Harry said, “Lily, if you don’t want this place, I’ll simply cancel my offer and stop my check. I’m not going to argue with you about a goddamn house. I only did it for you.”

  In reality, their argument was not about real estate. However, neither could tell the other what was in his heart.

  It wasn’t that Lily disliked the property, it was that in buying it without consulting her, Harry had reinforced her lack of self-esteem. Harry, on the other hand, felt she was being unreasonable, just as she was when they discussed Jeremy. The two issues somehow merged in his mind. He stood staring stonily at the water. Lily turned to continue arguing, but seeing his bleak expression she softened. For the first time since the publication of Archie Sanger, he seemed hurt and vulnerable. Suddenly she felt utterly ungrateful. Of course he had done this as a wonderful surprise, not to demean her.