Marriage Mistake

by Lively, R. S.

  Eleanor gives an almost resigned nod and smile.

  "Yes. That was me," she says. "That's the only time I went back to Magnolia Falls since I left. I wanted these letters, but I didn't want anyone to see me. I snuck onto the land from the back, and went to the barn, but it had been torn down and wasn’t there anymore. I thought I might have gone to the wrong place. It had been so long since I hid them. But I looked around, and my memories were so clear. I knew I was in the right spot. The building was just gone. It broke my heart." She shrugs slightly. "Broke it again. After leaving the island that day, I never went back."

  Grant slides toward the edge of the floral-patterned couch cushion where he sits, resting his forearms on his thighs so he can lean forward. He wants her to feel safe talking to him, to know he's fully invested in what she’s telling him.

  "We didn't mean to invade your privacy," he says, "but we did read the letters. They were so beautiful. Why did you hide them?"

  "I didn't want my father to find them," she says. "I'm sure by now you know how he treated Neil."

  "Yes," Grant says. "We've heard he wasn't exactly kind to him."

  Eleanor scoffs.

  "That's an understatement," she says. "He was a cruel and intolerant man. He refused to even listen to me when I tried to tell him about Neil, and what an amazing boy he was. I tried to tell him how much I loved him, and how much he loved me. That he was kind to me, and we were so happy. My father had his… views, though, and he wasn’t ever going to change. Not even for me. The only time I saw my father be kind after introducing him to Neil was when the two of us pretended to break up. I didn't want him to find the letters and know we were still in love, but I couldn't bring myself to destroy them. So, I hid them. I meant to go back for them before we ran."

  Grant draws in a breath.

  "What happened, Eleanor?" he asks. "No one knows. According to those who still remember the story, you disappeared, never to be heard from again."

  "That's what I wanted," she says. "Well, not at first. At first it wasn't my choice to leave, but when I realized there was nothing left in Magnolia Falls for me, I decided to just put it all behind me. I didn't want anyone from my past to know where I was. I just wanted to start over, even though I knew I would never have the life I wanted. I didn't want to be found."

  "You did well," Grant says. "I had a hell of a time finding you, and even when I finally did, I wasn't sure it was actually you or not."

  She smiles faintly.

  "I never thought anyone would be looking for me all these years later."

  "You said the first time," I say. "What do you mean? What happened that made you leave Magnolia Falls after the fire?"

  "I didn't leave after the fire," she says. "I was already gone by the time the school burned down."

  "You were?" Grant asks.

  "Yes. My father took me away the night before."

  "What happened?"

  Even as Grant asks the question, I know the answer. We both do. We saw it on his computer screen weeks ago. Neither of want to say it. This is her story to tell, and we need to hear it from her.

  Pain fills Eleanor's eyes. She looks fragile, and as much as I want to know what happened, I almost wish we hadn't come here and forced her to relive this.

  "My father found out Neil and I were still seeing each other," she finally answers. "Even though we tried to keep it hidden, we couldn't bear to be apart. We had to see each other. Someone in town, I never found out who, told him he had seen us together. To this day, I wonder if that was actually the truth. When he confronted me about it, I was so young and afraid, I didn't think to deny it. He never told me any concrete details other than we'd been seen sneaking off together. If I'd denied it –" she draws in a shuddering breath, shaking her head. "For days I wasn't allowed to leave the house. I was so upset, I worried myself into being physically sick. My mother was worried about me, and insisted I go to the doctor. That's when we found out…" her voice trails off.

  "You were pregnant," I say, helping her through the words she so clearly doesn't want to say.

  Eleanor nods, a single tear running down her cheek.

  The confirmation takes the breath out of me.

  "I had suspected I might be, but I didn't want to believe it. That just didn't happen to good Catholic girls from Magnolia Falls. Suddenly, though, it was happening to me. I was terrified. I knew my mother had to tell my father. There was no way we could keep it a secret, not for much longer, anyway. When we told him, he was furious. I tried to tell him it was going to be alright, that Neil loved me, and that we wanted to get married. I even told him about our plan to leave after the prom. I never should have done that, but I thought if he knew how serious Neil really was, maybe he'd finally give us his blessing."

  "But he didn't," Grant says.

  Eleanor shakes her head.

  "No. I had never seen my father like that. He was so quiet. His face went completely still, and he just turned and walked away from me. He didn't say another word to me for three days. My mother locked me in the house and wouldn't let me talk to anyone. Especially not to Neil, which was all I wanted to do. I needed to tell him. I was so scared, but at the same time, part of me was secretly thrilled. This was our baby, something that the two of us had made, and I couldn't help but be excited. Back then, having children young wasn't that unusual. I knew plenty of girls who had left school to get married and had already become mothers. I knew Neil and I would be amazing parents, and I could imagine our future. The three of us. I convinced myself that my parents just needed to come to terms with the idea, and that everything would be alright. I truly believed that. Then one night, my father stormed into my room, threw my suitcase out of the closet, opened it, and started filling it with my clothes and things."

  "He didn't say anything?"

  "No," Eleanor says. "He didn't speak to me until after he forced me into his car, and we had been driving for more than three hours. I asked to stop and use the restroom, and he exploded. It was like a dam had burst inside him, and everything he'd been thinking and feeling came pouring out all at once. He told me that I had dishonored the family, and as far as he was concerned, I was no longer his daughter. For a while, I thought he was taking me to my grandmother's house. My mother's mother. But he never would have brought more shame upon the family by telling her what I had done. He had other plans for me."

  "A convent," Grant says.

  Eleanor nods emotionally.

  "You know."

  "When my team was searching for you, they found a scan from the convent. It shows where your father signed you in. We didn't know what happened to the baby."

  "Those things weren't spoken about back then. It was an embarrassment that prestigious families went to great lengths to cover up. Even the convent wouldn't advertise the reason I was brought there. But inside the walls were a dozen other girls like me. Some were dumped there by humiliated and disappointed parents, others went there themselves because they were thrown out of their home, without options, and nowhere else to go. All of us shared one thing. We were unwed and pregnant. It was horrible at first. I was devastated and homesick. I ached for Neil. But I eventually realized there was no use in feeling that way, and that this might be the best thing for me and my baby. We'd be safe, kept healthy, and wouldn't have to face my father every day. The nuns gave us a home while we were pregnant. We were responsible for cleaning and preparing our own meals. We tended a garden and learned sewing and other homemaking skills. It felt like they were taking care of us, but also teaching us how to take care of ourselves. Many of us were hopeful they were helping us learn to take care of our babies once they were born."

  "But that didn't happen," Grant says.

  "I had been there for a couple months when two of the girls had their babies. The next day, the parents of one of the girls came and picked her up. They had a change of heart and brought her home. The other girl waited, but no one came for her. The nuns told her she could try to contact her parents,
but she couldn't reach them. She wasn't married, so they wouldn't let her reach out to anyone else. Two days later, they told her time was up, took her baby from her, and forced her to sign adoption papers. She had to watch through the window as a couple she didn't know carried her son away from the convent."

  "That must have been horrible," I say.

  "It was," Eleanor admits. "I spent the rest of my pregnancy praying my parents would reconsider, or that somehow I'd be allowed to leave with my baby and could find Neil. I spent my eighteenth birthday there, and I thought maybe that would change things. Maybe after I was eighteen, I would have more control. Then I watched as another girl, months older than me, had her baby taken from her, too. I didn't know what was going to happen. I told the nuns I wanted my baby, but they told me it wasn't my decision to make. They said when my father brought me here and signed me in, I lost my rights to decide. He made the agreement for me. Either I'd return to my parent's custody after the baby came, or they would adopt the baby to a suitable family soon after birth. There were no other options."

  "That can't possibly be legal," I protest.

  "I never questioned it," Eleanor says. "I didn't think I could. In so many ways, I was still innocent and naive. I only knew what I'd experienced so far, and that was watching my friends have to give up their babies, and then disappear from the home. It was a gorgeous fall day when I went into labor. I'll never forget that. I stared out the window and watched the leaves. It helped me focus through the pain of my early contractions. I didn't want to admit I thought I was in labor. I'd heard horror stories of birth, and I knew as soon as the nuns knew what was happening, they would bring me to the medical ward and medicate me. I didn't want that. After a few hours, I couldn't deny it anymore. They knew what was happening, and I suddenly lost all of my remaining control. I was strapped to a bed and a nurse came in with a needle. I tried to fight it, but they said this was the way things were done. The next thing I knew, I was coming back to consciousness and a baby was in my arms. I couldn't remember giving birth. All I knew was that I had gone through excruciating pain. But my baby was there in front of me, and all I could think about was her."

  "You had a daughter?" Grant asks.

  "Yes. She was so beautiful. So tiny and sweet. Cute pink lips and soft, velvety skin. She had long eyelashes just like Neil's."

  "Neil had long eyelashes when he was young?"

  Eleanor's eyes widen sharply, and she stares at me for a beat like she's not sure what to think about the question.

  "You know Neil?" she asks, the shock evident in her voice.

  I can feel Grant's eyes on me, and I realize he hadn't mentioned our connection to Mr. Kleinfelder.

  "Yes," he explains. "He was a client of mine, and we became friends."

  "Why didn't you tell me when you first contacted me?" Eleanor asks.

  She sounds breathless and taken aback by the sudden revelation.

  "I'm sorry," Grant says. "I didn't think it was appropriate to mention over the phone. I wanted to talk to you about him in person. Please tell us the rest of what happened."

  Eleanor looks unsure, but she lowers the letters to her lap, and continues.

  "I named my daughter Lily. I didn't say it out loud, though, because I knew the nuns wouldn't like it. When they turned their backs, though, I kissed her little face, and told her the name I'd given her. I didn't know how long they'd let me hold her. Then they gave me a bottle to feed her and let me change and dress her. I fell asleep with her in the bassinet beside my bed. When I woke up, she was gone, and I flew into a panic. But they had only taken her to be seen by the doctor. Later that morning, one of the nuns came and told me my parents would be visiting me the next day. I was thrilled. I hadn't even contacted them. The next morning, I got dressed and put Lily in the simple white gown provided by the nuns. I put her in a carriage and brought her out onto the grounds to breathe in the fresh air for the first time. I was so proud of her. I couldn't wait for my parents to come so I could show her off to them. When they got there, my mother came right to me, and wrapped me in a big hug. She looked down at Lily, and I could see the love on her face. She was happy, even if she didn't say it. Then it was my father's turn. He refused to even come within five yards of either of us. He stood there with his back to us, and even when my mother called him over, he refused to respond. They stayed for only a few minutes before he stormed away. I never knew why they came. I didn't understand why they would drive so far if they weren't going to take us home. In that moment, I knew it was over."

  "They took Lily?" I ask.

  "Yes. That afternoon, a nun told me a family was coming for her the next day. I did everything I could not to sleep at all. I wanted to memorize every second I had her. I talked to her about everything I could think of, hoping she would somehow remember my voice. I told her I loved her as many times as I could, but it wasn't enough. The second they took her from my arms and walked out of the room, I was empty. I ran to the dreaded window, the same window my friends had stood in front of for months and watched as a couple carried her away. I knew by the end of the day, she'd have a new name, and that she would grow up without ever knowing about me."

  "What happened after you left?" Grant asks.

  "I was eighteen," Eleanor says. "I was an adult. I took the clothes I had with me at the convent, and the small amount of money my mother left for me, and I went into the nearest town. From there, I got on the next bus, and ended up in New York. I found a boarding house. I took a factory job. I tried to put Magnolia Falls and my family behind me. I wrote to Neil, but I never heard back from him. I wrote to my parents, but only got one letter from my mother. She said Neil had been drafted and left for the war, and not returned. She didn’t say he had died in service, but she didn’t say he was alive, either. Back then, there was no way to just track a person down. You had to wait to get a letter, or for them to come back. For Neil, I didn’t get either. When I went back years later, I tried to find him. No one knew who I was, and I still used a false name. I didn't want my family to know I was back until I found Neil. It wasn't until later that I found out about my father's death and my mother and siblings leaving. I couldn't find him, and I was afraid he had died overseas."

  "Your mother never told you he wrote to you?"

  She shakes her head.

  "No," she says, her eyes wide again. "He wrote to me?"

  "Many times," Grant tells her. "He didn't know where you were, so he sent them all over, including to your parents."

  "People told him you either died in the fire at the school or ran away with another man. But Neil refused to believe it. He knew you wouldn't have betrayed him like that."

  "I never would have," she says softly. "I loved him so much. I've always wondered about him, and if he survived. And if he did, what his life was like. Every time I saw a couple or a family, I thought of how wonderful raising our daughter together would have been. After I realized what the convent did was not only wildly unethical, but extremely illegal, I tried to do something about it. But the organization was long closed, and the records were destroyed. I wanted to find my daughter, but I couldn't."

  "Eleanor, Neil never stopped thinking about you, either. The reason we found out about you, however, was because of Anthony Bernheimer. Do you remember him?"

  "Of course, I do. Tony was Neil's best friend."

  "He still is," Grant says. "He's the only one in Magnolia Falls who has kept in touch with him. Neil never returned to Magnolia Falls because of the discrimination he faced there, and he asked Mr. Bernheimer not to tell anyone he was still in touch with him, unless he found you."

  "I didn't see him when I went back," Eleanor says. "I never had the opportunity to speak to him."

  "I wish you had," I say. "But now Mr. Bernheimer is retiring from his role as principal at the high school. His vice principal asked us to recreate the prom as a celebration for him, and a reunion of his class. As I mentioned, Neil was a client of mine, and then I found out about his connec
tion to Magnolia Falls."

  "Didn't you see his name on the student roster?" Eleanor asks. "When you were researching the class?"

  Grant and I exchange glances.

  "The records aren't complete," Grant says. "The student records have been destroyed, and all that's left are some clippings from the fire, and the registry at the Historical Society. Even that was made voluntarily by the alumni."

  "So, neither of us are listed," she says as the realization settles over her.

  I shake my head.

  "It only contains the names and contact information of people who listed themselves, or listed others they’re still in contact with."

  "But we found you," Grant says. "Both of you. We're inviting Mr. Kleinfelder to a special event we're hosting in Mr. Bernheimer's honor before the prom, and to the prom. We would love for you to come, too."

  "See Neil again?" Eleanor asks.

  I nod happily. I expect her to be thrilled, to be so excited about the prospect of seeing him again that she can barely contain herself. Instead, she stands, and crosses the room to look out the window. The sun set before Grant and I got to her house, and she's staring into almost complete darkness, but I know she's thinking it through. She stays silent for several terse minutes before turning back to face us.

  "I don't know," she admits.

  "Why?" I ask. "I thought you would want to see him."

  "I do," she says. "But at the same time…" she hesitates, "so many years have gone by. We've lived out our entire lives. What if we don't have anything in common anymore?"

  "You have each other in common," I say.

  "But is that enough?" she asks. "I worry that seeing him again after so long and with so much unsaid between us, would just ruin my memories of our time together. Those memories are precious to me. I don't want to lose them."