“I’m sure you’re wondering where I’m going with my little story.” Aunt Hattie attempted a meek smile. “Well, as you can imagine, Esther, your grandmother, was very upset when Lenore became pregnant. Her plan was to send her to me for a while so that Lenore could have an abortion and then get on with her life.”
Christine nodded. “I saw the brochure on Lenore’s dresser.” She swallowed. “It’s kind of hard to think about your birth mother wanting to – well, you know – abort you.”
“Oh, no, no, no. Lenore didn’t want an abortion at all. That was all Esther’s idea. She felt it was a neat way to clean this whole mess up. Personally, I didn’t much care for the idea myself, but then I knew enough to keep quiet.”
“Grandmother wanted Lenore to have an abortion?”
“That’s right. She was worried about James’s reputation at the college. He was being considered for presidency at this time. And she didn’t want anything to hurt his chances.”
“Oh.” Christine knew this made sense, but it still cut deeply to think that her own grandmother had wanted her life “terminated,” as the brochure put it.
“Anyway, all this became moot when Lenore disappeared.”
Christine nodded.
“But then something happened . . . ,” she continued slowly, as if she wasn’t sure how to say whatever it was she wanted to say, “shortly before my brother James died several years ago. Perhaps you’ve heard by now that he’d been diagnosed with an unusual form of cancer and given less than six months to live . . . Well, it was during that time that he wrote me several letters. At first I thought my little brother was losing his mind due to his terminal illness and the heavy pain medications, because the letters made absolutely no sense whatsoever to me. They were filled with remorse and regret and guilt. And yet, in my opinion, this was a man who had led an exemplary life. It made no sense.”
Christine felt like she was getting an informational, not to mention emotional, overload today, and she just wished Aunt Hattie would get to the point. If there was a point. And right now she wasn’t too sure.
Aunt Hattie reached in her pocket to remove a pink linen handkerchief with lace trim. “Then the final letter came . . . and in this particular letter James confessed that he’d been the one responsible for Lenore’s pregnancy, which resulted in her subsequent disappearance. And he felt certain that his illness was his punishment for this transgression, and he wanted to tell Esther the truth, but he simply couldn’t do it. Oh, believe me, it was a very, very sad letter indeed.”
Christine just stared at her, too stunned to speak or respond. In fact, she felt her lips growing numb and wondered if she might actually be having some sort of stroke or seizure, although she knew that was probably ridiculous and highly unlikely. But how could she possibly have heard what she thought she’d just heard? Or maybe she’d simply misunderstood. “Wh – what?” she managed to stutter.
“I know it’s shocking, dear, but I felt you had the right to know.”
“What are you saying?” Christine winced at the words that were about to come from her mouth. “Are you saying that Lenore’s stepfather is my birth father?”
Aunt Hattie nodded sadly, then dabbed her moist eyes with the corner of her handkerchief. “I’m sorry, dear, but that’s what my brother wrote in his letter.”
Christine’s stomach twisted and turned, and she felt as if she was going to be sick. How could this be? It was so wrong. So unfair. Not only had this poor girl been judged and misunderstood by her own mother, but she’d been sexually abused by her stepfather as well. It was too painful and hideous to even think about. Christine longed to purge this tale from her mind and to run from this horrible house where such dirty little secrets had been hidden for so many years. What was wrong with these people?
“Oh, I know it’s disturbing to hear this, dear. But I think it’s best to just get these things out in the open and then move on. James fully admitted his guilt in his last letter to me. Yes, he admitted that he had raped his stepdaughter. And, of course, it was wrong. But you must keep this in perspective, dear. He’d been under enormous stress at work, and Esther had taken off to visit her sick mother and had been gone for weeks.”
Christine listened to Aunt Hattie going on and on about how it had been spring break and how “poor James” had been doing some very heavy drinking and missing his wife. As if that excused such inexcusable behavior!
“Apparently the weather had been nice that week,” Aunt Hattie rambled as if she was telling a bedtime story, “and Lenore had been swimming in the pool with her friends, and walking around the house in a very provocative bikini. Oh, I know that’s no excuse, dear.” She pressed her lips together, and Christine controlled herself from saying something very regrettable. Just get this over with, she was thinking. Tell your story and be done with it!
Finally Aunt Hattie continued. “There’s really no easy way to understand these things, dear, but James admitted he was so intoxicated that he barely remembered what had happened that day. He wrote that Lenore had confronted him with it later, when she’d discovered she was pregnant, and that they’d gotten into quite an argument. Naturally, James tried to make himself believe that her accusations weren’t true. Maybe he’d even managed to convince himself that it wasn’t true over time. But I think that beneath it all, he always knew he’d done it. He knew he’d raped Lenore.”
“That’s so disgusting.” Christine grimaced and tightened her fists. “That’s like . . . like incest.”
Aunt Hattie firmly shook her head. “No, dear, it’s not actually incest since they weren’t blood relatives.”
“Well, my father isn’t a blood relative either,” Christine said hotly. “But if he ever did that to me – ” She shuddered at what she knew was an impossibility. “Ugh, that would be just the same as incest to me.”
“I know, I know. It’s a horrible thing to hear. And if it makes you feel any better, James was completely heartbroken with regret over it. You can read his letters if you like. He would’ve done anything to turn back the clock and erase that awful day. And I have a feeling that it really did contribute to his illness and his death in the end.”
“And Lenore’s death too.” Christine shook her head. “What a stupid, stupid waste.”
“Not completely,” Aunt Hattie said with a hopeful smile. “At least there’s you.”
Christine felt a large lump filling her throat now, making it hard to breathe, let alone respond. It was one thing to be an illegitimate child, an unwanted pregnancy, an embarrassing inconvenience. Although, in fact, she was still grappling with those unkind labels. But it was something entirely different to be the product of a violent crime, the result of rape that was practically incestuous. How would she ever reconcile herself to something like this? Suddenly she wanted her father more than ever. She wanted to pour out her troubles to him and have him comfort her and then just make everything go away.
“I’ve got to go.” She quickly stood.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t upset you, dear,” Aunt Hattie said. “I only wanted you to know the truth. You seem like such a sensible girl to me. I thought you could handle it. Of course, I plan to tell Esther too, but I wanted to tell you first. I felt you had a right to know. You see, I tried to tell Esther once before and, well, it caused quite a scene.”
“At the funeral?”
“Yes. But I think it’s important that she knows and accepts the truth now that you’re here. And, actually, once you adjust yourself to everything, well, it’s not so bad, really.”
Aunt Hattie stood and held her arms open wide as if she were expecting a big hug. But Christine was still too stunned to respond. She simply backed away.
“I’ve got – got to go,” she said for the second time as she made her way to the door. “I’m – I’m sorry.”
She dashed down the stairs, carelessly tearing a strip of garland loose on her way. She opened the closet and grabbed her parka, then shot out the front door without even clos
ing it behind her. She could hear Felicity calling after her, probably wanting her to stuff a turkey or bake a pie or hang some mistletoe, but Christine was finished with all that Christmas nonsense now. More than that, she wanted to be finished with this crazy family as well.
17
Esther sat and stared blankly at the old letters splayed across James’s normally orderly desktop. They looked almost as if the wind had blown them in. Or Hurricane Hattie. She should’ve known better than to let that crazy old woman into her home. Good grief, hadn’t Hattie always been the bearer of bad news?
Oh yes, the letters appeared to have been written in James’s handwriting, perhaps not as neatly as his usual smooth and controlled hand, but that was most likely due to his illness or the medications, and, of course, there’d been stress. And there was no doubt they’d been written on his own personal stationery embossed with his own initials, JD. And, of course, he wouldn’t have used the college letterhead that he normally reserved for official work correspondence. And, most likely, he’d sat right here, right in this big leather chair, when he’d composed them.
But was the content really true? Poor James had endured some heavy pain medications during the last few months of his life. Perhaps those drugs had affected his mind. Maybe he’d even been hallucinating. These were the excuses she’d given Hattie shortly before she’d closed the door and barricaded herself in James’s den with the sternest instructions: “I do not wish to be disturbed.”
Once the door was locked and she was alone, she’d sat there and read and reread each letter until she’d nearly memorized each and every painful word. And now, despite her own earlier misgivings and doubts, she realized that the letters relayed the truth. James had indeed raped her only daughter. Oh, it was difficult to form those words in her mind. It sounded so crude and base and immoral. Not at all like the man she’d been happily married to for fifteen years. Just the same, she knew it was true.
Perhaps she’d always known. At least deep down in some hidden corner of her mother’s heart. After all, hadn’t Lenore tried to tell her without actually saying the words? But mired in her own foolish pride and stubbornness, Esther had refused to listen to her own daughter.
She leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes. Oh, the stupid and senseless messes people make of their lives. One mess leads smack into another and then another and another. It made her weary just thinking of it. It was like the redundancy of the seaside, one wave tumbling into the next. She had always grown tired of the sound of the ocean after a few days. James had never understood this. Maybe it was just her, since most people seemed to love the sound of the ocean, but the endless pounding of wave after wave after wave had always worn on her nerves. Just the way this whole nasty business with James was wearing on her now. His guilt only added more layers to her own guilt, making her feel worse than ever. And just when she’d been hoping for some resolution too. Oh, when would the hurting ever cease?
She looked at the photograph of James that she kept on his desk. It was taken shortly after he’d been selected as the university president. Such a proud day that had been. In fact, it would’ve been perfect except for the fact that Lenore was missing. She studied his smile and wondered how he’d really felt that day. Was he pleased with himself for the way he’d managed to conceal such a hideous offense? Or was he smiling like that simply to hide the shame?
Oh, she’d always known that James Daniels was a rather self-indulgent man. But then he’d been raised that way. Rich from birth, and always given everything, life had been easy come, easy go for him. And he’d always been the golden boy – the man with the Midas touch. Everyone who knew him had respected him. Even Lenore.
Esther choked back a sob as she remembered the evening, almost a year after she and James had married, when Lenore had come downstairs to tell them good-night. Wearing flannel pajamas and a freshly scrubbed face, she’d said, “I don’t know how to say this . . .” Lenore had paused then as if this was something very important to her. “But I’m really glad that you guys are married. I know I wasn’t so excited at first because I didn’t really think anyone could replace my daddy. But I think James is the next best thing, and if it’s okay, I’d like to start calling you Dad.” Well, James had jumped up from his chair and hugged her, saying that of course she could call him Dad and that he’d be proud to have her for his own daughter. It was a tender moment then, but it burned like hellfire now.
“That beast!” Esther said as she pounded her fist on his desk. “That abominable monster!” She stood up, shaking her fist in the air. “How could you, James Allen Daniels? How dare you?” She hobbled around the desk, ignoring the pain of her throbbing ankle as it knocked against the leg of the chair. With angry sobs, she reached for his shining brass football trophy, the one he’d won in college, and then she threw it to the floor. Like a madwoman, she clung to the bookshelves and struggled her way around his office, taking every single item he’d been proud of, every award and honor he’d ever received, and one by one, she smashed them to the floor. Finally she took his photo, held it high above her head, and brought it down with a loud crash that sent glass flying across the desk. “You demon!”
“What’s going on?” Felicity demanded as she loudly knocked on the door. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m fine!” Esther shouted. “Perfectly fine. Just leave me alone!”
Finally, exhausted and in pain from her ankle, Esther collapsed onto the leather couch by the window and just sobbed. Why, why, why?
When she awoke, the room had grown dark and it took her a moment to remember where she was, but she thought she heard someone knocking on the door again. “Who is it?” she asked in a voice that sounded like an ancient toad.
“It’s me,” said an apologetic voice. But before Esther could get up, a key turned in the lock, the door opened, and the light came on. And there stood Hattie looking around the room with an expression of horror. “My word, Esther, whatever has happened in here?”
Esther sat up and rubbed her eyes. “A little temper tantrum.”
“Do you feel better now?” Hattie asked with what seemed genuine concern.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Esther looked at the mess, then just shook her head. “Can you hand me my crutches, Hattie?”
Hattie carefully picked her way through the broken glass and debris to retrieve the crutches, then leaned them against the couch beside Esther. “I don’t blame you, Esther,” she said as she sat down beside her. “You know that James was my only brother and that I loved him dearly, but, believe me, I wanted to kill him myself when I read that last letter.”
Esther blinked, then looked at her sister-in-law. “Really?”
Hattie nodded. “Yes, if he hadn’t been terminally ill, I might have.”
Esther shook her head again.
“And if he hadn’t been in such bad shape, I probably wouldn’t have forgiven him either.”
“But you did?”
She sighed. “I did. It’s hard to deny mercy to a dying man. In the end I actually felt rather sorry for him. Oh, I couldn’t excuse his behavior, there’s no excuse for that. But I do think it’s what killed him. I believe the guilt was eating him alive and the cancer was simply his body’s way of surrendering to it.”
“He said something like that in his letters.”
“Poor man.”
“Poor Lenore,” Esther said.
Hattie patted Esther’s hand. “Yes, poor, dear Lenore. She was such a sweet angel of a girl. She certainly didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
“No one does,” Esther said sadly.
“Did I ever tell you that your girl won my heart right from the start?” Hattie said. “Why, I still remember the first day I met her, just a few days before the wedding, and she gave me the sweetest little tour of this house. Well, I took her into my heart as if she were my very own niece that very day. She was precious, Esther.”
Esther started choking up again. “I – I know.”
“Did she?”
“My, yes. I did everything I could think of to cheer her up, including driving to every furniture store in the county until we found the bedroom set of her dreams to distract her.”
“You were a good aunt to her, Hattie.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I feel so guilty,” Esther said. “Lenore tried to tell me it was James, but I just wouldn’t listen. I told myself she was simply trying to blame us for her making bad choices and getting into trouble. But, beneath it all, I think I suspected something was wrong. Still, it was too horrible to actually believe. I mean, how could he do – ” She shook her head as the words choked inside her.
Hattie wrapped her short arms around Esther and squeezed tightly. “I know, I know,” she said. “It just makes no sense at all. But life is like that sometimes, Esther. And like I told Christine earlier, we can at least be thankful that we have her now. I think she’s our blessing in disguise in this whole unfortunate affair.”
“Christine,” Esther said suddenly. “She knows about this?”
Hattie nodded. “It seemed only fair to tell her. And since James had written the letter to me, and I am, after all, her blood relative, her aunt, I thought it best I tell her. I figured you’d be enduring a pain all your own today.”
Esther nodded. “Yes, perhaps you’re right about that. But how did she take the news? Was she shocked or upset?”
“Yes. I think it was unsettling for her. She left here in a hurry.” Then Hattie smiled. “But don’t worry, she’s young. The young have a way of bouncing back from these sorts of things. She probably just needs some time to sort it out.”
Esther frowned. “I’m not so sure. She’s so much like Lenore. She has a very tender heart, and this might be very disturbing to her.”
“Maybe you’re right. Should you give her a call and see how she’s doing?”
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