Portraits

by Cynthia Freeman

  While all this was running through Phillip’s head, Ann was having a few daydreams of her own. As the waiter set down fortune cookies and a fresh pot of tea, she hummed “Tea for Two” under her breath and thought of pouring coffee every morning for Phillip before he went to the office.

  Ann broke open a fortune cookie, took out the slip of paper, and held her breath as she read the prophecy. Oh, my God, she thought. It was unbelievable, but there it was in print: “A tall, dark, handsome stranger will spirit you off to paradise.”

  Ann glanced across the table, and in that magical moment, their eyes met. It was just like in the movies! All the problems which had seemed insurmountable to Phillip a few minutes ago seemed to vanish. His emotions overwhelmed him.

  “Ann,” he blurted, “I’ve tried very hard to fight it, but you mean more to me than anything else in the world. I love you … I know I don’t have any right, but …”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. “Of course, I have no way of knowing how you feel about me.”

  Ann was completely bewildered. Although he had just said the words she’d dreamed of hearing, instead of being deliriously happy, she felt a strange resentment. Why had he failed to call her all these weeks? Why had he made her suffer so? Afraid of what she might say, she pulled her hand away from his and began toying absently with the crumbs on the table.

  Phillip’s heart sank as he looked at her expression. Obviously she did not share his feelings.

  But when Ann finally looked up, she said, “I love you. I have from the very beginning.”

  “Have you really?” Phillip stammered, happy beyond his wildest dreams.

  “Yes.”

  “I never would have known it tonight,” he said naively.

  “Well, Phillip, you didn’t even call me for almost two months! Why did it take so long?”

  “I thought it would be best, Ann, if I stayed out of your life.”

  “Best? I don’t understand. I thought that falling in love was a very natural thing. Why are we complicating this?”

  “That’s the way it should be. But I have a lot of problems, Ann … problems with myself that I had to come to terms with.”

  “And have you?”

  “No,” Phillip said sadly. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Now that we know we love each other, can’t you share them with me?”

  He sighed. “You see, darling, I don’t have anything to offer you. And I don’t think it’s right to ask you to struggle with me. Being poor can make life very difficult.”

  “Just knowing you love me is—everything,” Ann whispered.

  Once again he reached across the table and took her hand. “I’d give anything in the world, Ann, to be able to marry you now. But I have an obligation to my parents. And my salary is so small, I wouldn’t be able to maintain two households.”

  “But, Phillip, when two people love each other, it doesn’t matter if they have to struggle. I’ve been poor all my life; it won’t matter to me if we don’t have anything. We’ll have each other.”

  Looking at her, he realized that there was a great difference in their approach to life. Ann’s poverty seemed to be the source of her strength, while his early wealth seemed to have sapped his innate drive and energy. Maybe with Ann as an inspiration he could make something of his life. Maybe he could—at last—live up to his great-grandfather’s image.

  “Darling,” he said more forcefully, “we’re going to have to wait. I’m sorry. But in a year or so I’ll be more valuable to the firm and should receive a good raise. Would you be willing to go steady with me until then?”

  A year was an eternity to Ann. She wanted to get married now! But she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Phillip was worth waiting for.

  “Yes,” she said tremulously. “I’ll wait.”

  Forgetting that he was in a small, crowded restaurant, Phillip got up, pulled her from her chair and took her in his arms. Softly, he whispered, “You’ve made me so happy, Ann.”

  “I hope I always will.”

  After Phillip left her that night, Ann stood in the front hall, thrilling to the memory of his kisses. His lips against hers had been so tender as he murmured, “You’re so beautiful, Ann. I love you so much. How did I get so lucky?”

  The next morning, Ann sat up in bed with an overwhelming feeling of dread. It should have been the happiest day of her life, but instead she had to brave telling her father and stepmother. She was fairly sure her father would understand, but Stella had resented her since she was a little girl and would surely do her best to take the joy out of her happy news. Sighing, Ann put on her robe and went downstairs.

  Ben looked across the breakfast table at his daughter. Ann looked more like her mother every year, and the reminder had become increasingly painful as Ann had grown to young womanhood. He could never forgive himself for the fact that Ann had suffered so because of his marriage to Stella. At the time he believed that he was securing a mother for his child as well as a wife, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Stella had been jealous of Ann from the start, and Ben often found himself siding against Ann in order to keep peace. He hated himself for his weakness; but then, Stella was a very different woman from Ann’s mother—strong and determined. It was easier to give in to her wishes than to create more dissension by asserting himself.

  When he had met Stella, she had been recently widowed, and at the beginning of their relationship, Stella had appeared to be genuinely fond of Ann. He was shocked by her reaction shortly after they married when he suggested Ann call her stepmother “Mommy.”

  “How dare you suggest the child call me that. I’m not her mother—I’m your wife.”

  Ann stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the loud voices below. She had been sent to bed earlier, but had been roused by the sounds of the argument; she had never heard voices raised in anger at home and it frightened her. Now, quickly, she ran back to her room and locked her door. She felt terribly guilty that she had been the cause of a fight between her daddy and his new wife. She must have been a very bad girl for Stella not to want to be her mother.

  Stella had become neither Ann’s mother nor even her friend. And when a year after his marriage Ben had a massive coronary, he found he was no longer in a position to modify Stella’s behavior. After his illness he was unable to continue running his cleaning business, and without him it threatened to go under. Were it not for Stella, he would have lost it. But she had lent him the money necessary to stay afloat. At least he had thought it was a loan. As it turned out, she owned the plant and she owned him.

  Ben was brought out of his reverie by the shrill sound of Stella’s voice asking, “What time did you get home last night?”

  Nervously, Ann answered, “Gee … I don’t know … I guess about eleven o’clock.”

  “It was later than that,” Stella corrected her quickly.

  Ann found herself apologizing. “You’re probably right. I suppose I didn’t look at the time.”

  “Doesn’t it ever occur to you that someone might be concerned when you’re late? But of course this is nothing new. You’re never on time, and you’re never considerate.”

  Ann’s nerves were already frayed, and she wanted to scream out, Don’t treat me like a child! I’m twenty-one years old.

  But noticing the look of pain on her father’s face, she once again tried to keep the peace. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more considerate.”

  Stella nodded. “Who did you go out with?”

  “His name is Phillip Coulter.”

  Stella thought her heart had stopped beating for a moment. Her fists clenched and the muscles in her neck became taut. Coulter! That name had been her nemesis, and life was conspiring against her once again, threatening her with the past. Almost fearfully she repeated the name to herself: Coulter.

  But maybe she was just conjuring up ghosts. Even though Coulter wasn’t a common name, maybe Ann’s young man wasn’t related to the family she hated, the family th
at had made her the bitter, cruel woman she was today.

  “What kind of a name is Coulter?” she asked in a calm voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, is it Irish?”

  “No, it’s Jewish.”

  “Jewish?” Stella said. “How do you know?”

  In spite of herself, Ann laughed mirthlessly. “I just know.”

  “But Coulter is not a Jewish name.”

  “Maybe not, but he comes from a distinguished Jewish family.”

  “Oh? And what does this distinguished Jewish family do for a living?”

  “Phillip is an attorney and his family used to own a chain of men’s shops.”

  Stella almost fainted. It was the family! Of all the men in the world, Ann had to pick Eva Coulter’s son. “Used to?” Stella said in a cold voice.

  “Yes, they lost them during the Depression. Ruthie told me about it.”

  Ann saw that Stella’s face was almost viciously contorted. She couldn’t understand. On the verge of tears, she burst out, “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Interrogating me like this!”

  Ben popped a nitroglycerine under his tongue. When Stella was hell-bent on one of her tirades it did no good to protest. So he bit his lip and silently cursed his weakness. He wanted to clap his hands over his ears to block out the sound of her harsh voice saying, “You see what I mean, Ben? This is what I’ve put up with all these years. You always accuse me of not being motherly towards Ann, and here I show a decent motherly concern over who Ann goes out with, and she resents me.”

  “I don’t resent your concern, Stella,” Ann said softly. “It’s the way you question me. You make me feel as though I’ve done something wrong.”

  Stella enjoyed seeing Ann squirm. “Well, how did you meet this young man?” she asked.

  “At Ruthie’s wedding.”

  “At Ruthie’s wedding? Why, that was months ago! You mean to say that you’ve been seeing him all this time and haven’t said a word? Why? Were you ashamed to bring him home?”

  “No, that isn’t it at all. Let me explain.”

  “Explain? What is there to explain?”

  Ann felt hopelessly drained. Her supreme moment was not quite the scene she had fantasized. The night before, she had pictured walking into the living room hand in hand with Phillip and breathlessly announcing: “Stella, Daddy, we’re engaged!”

  Now she said nervously, her heart pounding and her hands trembling, “Stella, we’re going to be married.”

  The statement caught Stella off-guard. She sat with her mouth open, in complete shock. Then, quickly, her expression changed to one of unmistakable contempt.

  Ann was completely bewildered. She knew Stella resented her, but her stepmother’s reactions this morning seemed unreasonable even for her. Finally Ann pleaded softly, “Please be happy for me, Stella. Please? I haven’t had much happiness.”

  The room was silent. Finally, Ben seemed to find his voice. “Ann, don’t you think it was only right that you bring this young man home to meet me? I am your father, after all.”

  “Please, Papa, don’t be angry. I didn’t know how Phillip felt about me until last night. It was the first time we’d gone out. I mean, on a real date.”

  Ben was about to respond when Stella said quickly, “You want us to believe that you went out with a boy for the first time last night and now you’re engaged?”

  Ann fought to hold back the tears. Finding her voice, she tried to explain why Phillip had held back. Even how she said they would have to wait for at least a year before getting married. “I guess it sounds a little unconventional,” she admitted, “but … there really aren’t any rules for people in love.”

  “You think it sounds unconventional?” said Stella. “I think that he’s playing some kind of game.”

  “That’s enough, Stella!” Ben uncharacteristically interrupted his wife, making her fury even greater.

  “What’s wrong with you, Ben?” Stella shrilled. She knew that without knowledge of her previous relationship with the Coulters, she must appear entirely unreasonable, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her gaze shifted to Ann. “You expect us to give you our blessing? We haven’t even met him. He hasn’t even given you a ring, has he?” Without waiting for an answer she attacked again. “Why won’t he marry you now?”

  “I just told you, Stella. He simply can’t get married right now.”

  “I don’t care. It’s just not natural when people are in love. What’s he going to do in the next year, become a millionaire? Let me tell you something, Ann. If you do anything wrong, you’ll never be allowed back into this house! Do you hear what I’m saying?” Stella was all but screaming.

  “I’m sorry you feel you have to say that to me, Stella. But I’m not going to sit here and take this kind of abuse from you!” Tears streaming down her cheeks, Ann pushed back her chair and fled the room.

  Ben sat shaking his head in despair. Stella was behaving like a madwoman, but as his angina increased he knew he didn’t dare fight back. It would kill him.

  “See what I’ve been putting up with all these years?” Stella was shouting.

  Ben wanted to scream, You should be overjoyed. You’ll have the chance to get rid of her. But instead he said gently, “Ann’s my daughter, not yours, Stella. And I’m not all that upset. Why are you?”

  “Because I’ve tried to be a mother to her and she didn’t even have the decency to tell us that she was seeing this boy.”

  “But she explained that he hadn’t called her for two months.”

  “And you believed her? Why does this Don Juan insist on postponing marriage? For all you know, he’s just using Ann.”

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked with difficulty.

  “That she could get pregnant.”

  “What a vile thing to say! I haven’t met Phillip, but I’m sure he’s a fine boy.”

  “A fine boy? Look, you can close your eyes to the truth, but I won’t. You don’t see anything. How long can two young people be engaged without sleeping together?”

  “Ann is my daughter and I trust her.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful,” Stella said bitingly. “The truth is that I know more about your daughter than you do. She’d do anything to get away from this house. If she got pregnant, he’d have to marry her. Right, Ben?”

  If Stella had struck him between the eyes, he could not have been more stunned. Without a word, Ben got up from the table and went up to see Ann. He could no longer force himself into believing that he had married Stella to provide a mother for Ann. He should have sensed the coldness under the amiable surface. He could not forgive his selfish weakness, not this morning.

  Sighing, he knocked softly on Ann’s door. When there was no answer, he turned the doorknob and entered. Ann was lying on her bed, sobbing. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gathered her to him, rocking her gently back and forth.

  Through the tears, Ann asked, “Papa, why does Stella hate me so much?”

  Ben swallowed. “It’s not you, sweetheart. She hates herself … the world.”

  “But it’s so unreasonable. I just don’t understand what it is I do that upsets her so much.”

  “Ann, please don’t allow Stella to spoil your happiness. This should be the happiest time of your life.”

  “Papa …”Ann murmured brokenly. “Papa, I’m sorry I didn’t bring Phillip home, but there wasn’t time. I didn’t even think he liked me.”

  “That’s all right, sweetheart.”

  “But, Papa, what am I going to do now? How can I ask him to meet my family with Stella acting like this? I can’t bring him into this house, I just can’t!” Ann started sobbing again.

  “We’ll have to figure something out, honey. But, Ann, I want you to know that I’m overjoyed for you. I don’t know if I can explain to you how grateful I am that God has spared me to see you find happiness.”

  “Thank you, Papa. I want so m
uch for you to be friends with Phillip. He’s the most wonderful person—I know you’ll love him.”

  “Of course I will. But the most important thing is that you love him—and that he loves you.”

  “But I want you to meet him. Maybe we could all go out for lunch? That way Stella wouldn’t have to know about it.”

  Buy Seasons of the Heart Now!

  About the Author

  Cynthia Freeman (1915–1988) was the author of multiple bestselling novels, including Come Pour the Wine, No Time for Tears, and The Last Princess. Her novels sold more than twenty million copies worldwide. Born in New York City’s Lower East Side, she moved as a young child with her family to Northern California, where she grew up. She fell in love with and married her grandmother’s physician. After raising a family and becoming a successful interior decorator, a chronic illness forced her to adopt a more sedentary lifestyle. At the age of fifty-five, she began her literary career with the publication of A World Full of Strangers. Her love of San Francisco and her Jewish heritage drove her to write novels with the universal themes of survival, love, hate, self-discovery, joy, and pain, conveying the author’s steadfast belief in the ability of the human spirit to triumph over life’s sorrows.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1979 by Cynthia Freeman Enterprises, Inc.

  Cover design by Mimi Bark

  978-1-4804-3572-8

  This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  345 Hudson Street