‘‘She taught me how to tell a tern from a gull.’’
‘‘Sometimes we’d be real hungry and she’d let us boil lobsters ourselves, right out in the yard over an open fire.’’
‘‘And I’m reading a book by Robert Louis Stevenson. . . .’’
‘‘And we’re probably going to make it our next play.’’
‘‘If Mrs. Jewett will let us.’’
Silence fell across the hall, a vast, memorable silence in which the gilding of Roberta Jewett’s reputation began. In the midst of that silence, Gabriel dropped Roberta’s hand and rose calmly to his feet. Holding his floppy cap in his hand he looked straight at Alda Quimby and spoke in a deep, sure voice.
‘‘And I have watched my daughter blossom into a vibrant young girl during this summer. What she told you earlier is true. She was lonely and bored until the Jewetts moved to town. Then Mrs. Jewett opened her heart and her home and took Isobel in as if she were one of her own’’—he looked down at Roberta—‘‘and for that I am eternally grateful.’’
Without histrionics, Gabriel resumed his seat.
At the table up front, Alda Quimby was still trying to keep from looking like a jackass.
‘‘Mr. Farley,’’ she pursued, ‘‘there is another issue we haven’t taken up, and it’s a rather . . . well, shall we say a delicate matter of which it appears you are a major factor. But in light of the presence of these children . . .’’
On the right side of the hall Elizabeth DuMoss stood up, dressed to the nines and radiating social grace.
‘‘I believe I know what that issue is, and if it pleases the board, I think I can shed some light on it. You all know me, and my husband, Aloysius.’’ He nodded. ‘‘And this is our lawyer from Bangor, Mr. Harvey. If the children have finished speaking their piece, a short private session might be in order at this time. Mr. Chairman, Mrs. Quimby, would you mind repairing to another room with us so that we can get this over with as quickly as possible?’’
‘‘Of course, Mrs. DuMoss.’’
‘‘I believe Mrs. Jewett and Mr. Farley should be present, too.’’
‘‘Certainly, Mrs. DuMoss.’’
‘‘Aloysius . . .’’ she invited, and as he stood, she took his arm. ‘‘Mr. Harvey.’’ Harvey rose and followed.
When they had gathered in a classroom down the hall, and the door was closed behind them, Aloysius DuMoss introduced Mr. Daniel Harvey. Harvey, a tall, courtly fellow with an affable mien, suggested that everyone seat themselves in the school desks. They did so, with the board members choosing the second and third rows while Roberta and her supporters folded down the front row, which consisted of seats only, with no writing surfaces.
Mr. Harvey stood in front of them like a teacher. He let his eyes graze over every person in the room before addressing them in a voice calculated to soothe rather than arouse.
‘‘Members of the school board, Mrs. Jewett, Mr. Farley . . . Mr. and Mrs. DuMoss have asked me to be present tonight to represent them and you, Mrs.
Jewett—should the need arise—in what they hope shall be the immediate silencing of these allegations. We are speaking now of the allegations regarding licentious conduct on the part of Mrs. Jewett in which Mr. Farley has been implicated, are we not?’’
The members of the school board, intimidated by the unexpected presence of a Bangor attorney, bounced gazes among themselves, then Mr. Boynton harrumphed and replied, ‘‘Yes, we are.’’
‘‘Thank you, Mr. Boynton. Mrs. DuMoss has some information she wishes to impart on the subject. First though, the DuMosses have asked that the members of the board read and sign this confidentiality agreement to ascertain that whatever is spoken in this room shall remain confidential ad finem.’’ Mr. Harvey produced a typewritten paper and passed it to the chairman of the board.
Mr. Boynton complained, ‘‘Mr. Harvey, this is highly irregular. This is nothing but an informal inquiry.’’
‘‘On what appear to be some highly sensitive moral issues which could damage the reputation of anyone so accused if they were to be aired in public. Mrs. DuMoss informs me that the children of a certain Mr. Spear were present in the meeting hall tonight. Since what she has to say involves him, she feels they should be protected from hearing it at all costs, either firsthand or secondhand. To that end, she has requested that each member of the board sign the confidentiality agreement which I shall notarize and which Mr. DuMoss will keep under lock and key.’’
‘‘But’’—Mr. Boynton glanced at the paper—‘‘you’re asking us to sign a paper disallowing us to defend ourselves regarding our decision in this matter.’’
‘‘Exactly. But the decision will be the board’s nonetheless, and once you’ve heard what Mrs. DuMoss has to say you’ll understand her reasoning.’’
The board had never come up against such a bizarre request before. However, given Aloysius DuMoss’s largess to the school district in the past, and the future funding they’d stand to lose if they displeased him at this juncture, Mr. Boynton had little choice.
‘‘Oh, all right. We’ll sign and get on with it.’’
Mr. Harvey produced a silver pen and ink vial, dipped the nib and handed it to Mr. Boynton first. The room remained so silent that the scratching of six signatures sounded like dogs at a door.
‘‘Thank you.’’ With the signatures completed, Mr. Harvey capped his ink vial and slipped his pen into a leather sheath. ‘‘I shall let Mrs. DuMoss proceed.’’
Elizabeth rose and, followed by her husband, ascended the podium and pulled out the chair. Mr. Harvey sat in one of the desks they’d vacated, while Aloysius DuMoss stood at his wife’s shoulder as she seated herself and gathered her thoughts. Linking her fingers on the desktop, she spoke in a reserved, cultured voice.
‘‘What I have to tell you tonight I’ve held inside a long time. It has been cause for great distress to me for years and years. You all know me . . . you’ve known me all my life and realize that I have no reason to lie. What I tell you will be the truth, and my husband will vouch for it, because he’s known about it for years as well.
‘‘Since the telephone wire has come to Camden we all hear things on our party line that we wish we hadn’t. There are people who spread the news they hear as if it were their God-given right to do so. I don’t abide by it, but it’s inevitable that gossips will talk, and I hear rumors like anybody else.
‘‘I recently heard a rumor about a fistfight between Gabe Farley and Elfred Spear. Everyone in this room knows it’s true that the fight took place, because we’ve all seen Elfred walking around looking like a bowl of Harvard beets. The night of that fight Gabe yelled something in Elfred’s front yard that nobody in this room has had the courage to say, and that I believe must be said. The word was ‘rape,’ and I know about it because it happened to me.’’
Aloysius gripped his wife’s shoulder as she struggled to overcome a wave of emotion. Her throat worked and the knuckles on her linked hands turned white.
‘‘When I was seventeen years old Elfred Spear raped me.’’ Tears suddenly glittered in Elizabeth’s eyes and she lost her ability to speak. Her husband dipped his head near hers and fortified her with a whispered word and the continued presence of his hand upon her shoulder. ‘‘It’s all right, dear,’’ she whispered, touching his hand. ‘‘I can do it.’’
She cleared her throat and continued. ‘‘The particulars aren’t important, only the fact that I was an innocent virgin on my way home from an evening with my friends when I accepted a ride from a young man I thought I knew. One I trusted. The ramifications of that night have affected me the rest of my life. My marriage to Aloysius began in fear. Only his patient love has seen me through the nightmares that took years to go away. Since the Benevolent Society’s attack on Mrs. Jewett, my nightmares have returned.’’
Elizabeth’s eyes sought and found Roberta’s, and their kindred pasts brought the glisten of tears to both their eyes.
To the room at large
, Elizabeth stated in the most ladylike tone, ‘‘I damn Elfred Spear all over again for what he did to me. I did not deserve it. I did nothing to encourage him—nothing! I was female, and for Elfred, that was enough. We all know that for Elfred that’s always been enough. Yet how many of you— especially you men—laugh away his antics as if they were no more than childish pranks while the women he preys upon are sentenced to eternal silence because if they were to speak up, they would be accused, just as you’ve accused Mrs. Jewett. And don’t say you haven’t, because I was at that Benevolent Society meeting when that despicable gossip got blown up into this farce you have perpetrated on a woman whose only crime was returning to her hometown as a divorceé.
‘‘For that you have labeled her, and that’s what this inquiry is about, isn’t it?’’ Elizabeth let a beat of silence drill her accusation home before continuing.
‘‘It’s much easier to point a finger at a divorced woman than at a pillar of our town society, isn’t it? Especially one you all do business with each day. Well, you do business with my husband, too, and I bless his loving heart for standing behind me in my wish to confront you tonight with a plea to stop persecuting Roberta Jewett. If you don’t, you should know that our estimable fortune will be behind Mr. Harvey in defending Mrs. Jewett in whatever way is necessary. There will be newspaper reporters here, too, challenging your motives—to say nothing of your right—to bring her before this board for questioning. And in the process, Elfred Spear’s wife and children will be dragged through the trail of evildoing he’s left behind. I’m a mother of four. I simply don’t believe children should suffer something like that. Therefore, the confidentiality agreement I’ve asked you to sign. Gentlemen . . . and lady . . . I leave you to decide where to go from here.’’ Elizabeth added, ‘‘Just one more thing. I have resigned my post as treasurer of the Benevolent Society because I cannot, in all good conscience, be affiliated with a group that makes a mockery of their very name. Thank you.’’
Elizabeth sat back and relaxed her hands. Her husband patted her shoulder as she looked up at him. To Elizabeth’s credit, she had never threatened a withdrawal of future school funding from the DuMoss coffers, nor had she stated unequivocally that Roberta Jewett had been raped. But it was evident by the mood in the room that the school board had no intention of grilling her further.
Mr. Boynton said, ‘‘If we could have a few minutes to talk this over . . .’’
Five people left the room: The DuMosses and their lawyer, Roberta and Gabe. Out in the hall, when the schoolroom door closed behind them, the two women stood before each other in a moment of poignant silence before pitching together and hugging hard enough to wrinkle their bodices.
‘‘How can I ever thank you, Elizabeth?’’
‘‘Perhaps you already have. I’ve let it out at last, and after all these years, it feels so good. I wouldn’t have done that but for your own misfortune.’’ Elizabeth pulled back and said, ‘‘I was afraid I was divulging things about you that weren’t entirely my right, but I thought that by making them sign the agreement . . .’’
‘‘Say no more. You were utterly tactful, and I wanted them to know about Elfred, too, so you spoke for both of us.’’
‘‘I’ll tell you one thing,’’ Elizabeth said, putting on a more cheerful face. ‘‘Alda Quimby will pay the price for spearheading this inquiry. It’ll drive her crazy that she can’t tell this to every woman in that Benevolent Society.’’
The schoolroom door opened and Mr. Boynton stood before his pack of board members, who avoided eye contact with everyone in the hall.
‘‘The inquiry is dropped,’’ he said simply. ‘‘Sorry, Mrs. Jewett.’’
The six school board members silently filed away, leaving behind five people with ample cause for smiles.
Gabriel hugged Roberta. Then Elizabeth. At her ear he said, ‘‘Thank you, Elizabeth, from both of us.’’
‘‘You’re welcome, Gabriel,’’ she said, accepting the first hug he had ever given her before taking her place beside the husband who had loved her enough to stand by her through this ordeal and many others.
Daniel Harvey extended his hand to Roberta. ‘‘Mrs. Jewett, it’s nice to meet you at last. I must say, I admire you already after listening to those children. I’d been brought on to defend you, but they were doing such a splendid job I wouldn’t have dreamed of stepping in. Also, there’s a little thing on the law books called defamation of character, and I thought if I let that school board go for a little while, they might do us a favor if we ever had to challenge them in court. Which I’m glad is not the case.’’
‘‘Thank you, Mr. Harvey.’’
She thanked Mr. DuMoss also, then Elizabeth suggested, ‘‘Why don’t we all gather at our house for a glass of sherry to celebrate? Roberta, I’d like to get to know you better. Gabriel, what do you say?’’
He deferred to Roberta.
‘‘That sounds wonderful,’’ she decided. ‘‘But do I dare leave my girls alone?’’
They were all laughing even before Elizabeth replied, ‘‘The school board will probably find out and call an inquiry.’’
Outside on the schoolhouse steps they encountered their children, who’d been inside when the meeting was abruptly called to an end.
Roberta opened her arms to all three . . . plus Isobel. ‘‘Here they are, our obedient children who stayed home just the way we ordered them to.’’
They all spoke at once.
‘‘We did it!’’
‘‘We saved you!’’
‘‘Mother, I was so proud.’’
‘‘Oh, Mrs. Jewett, you won! You won!’’
Amid the celebrating there was a moment more somber when Roberta looked up and saw her three nieces hovering nearby. She went to them and hugged them, too. ‘‘Marcy, Trudy, Corinda, thank you for what you said tonight.’’ She wondered exactly what they knew about their father and hoped they were ignorant of his gravest faults, for their innocence was of far more importance than his guilt. ‘‘How is your mother?’’ Roberta asked.
‘‘Just fine.’’
‘‘Will you tell her hello and give her my love?’’
‘‘Sure.’’
‘‘And tell her that I’m getting married soon.’’
Corinda’s eyes widened in excitement. ‘‘You are, Aunt Birdy?’’
‘‘To Mr. Farley. But, shh! Don’t spread it around here tonight. Wait till tomorrow, all right? We haven’t told the girls yet.’’
Corinda giggled as they parted company with Roberta’s hand slipping from her niece’s shoulders with a lingering melancholy. Gabriel came up behind her and sensed her sadness over the irreparable rift between her and her sister. He touched her waist and said, ‘‘It’s hard not getting along with your family. I know because my mother’s been standoffish all summer, and I’ve really missed her. But guess what.’’ She looked back over her shoulder at his cajoling smile. ‘‘She came over yesterday and filled my cookie jar while I was at work.’’
‘‘Oh, Gabriel, did she really?’’
‘‘Ayup.’’
‘‘I’m so happy for you.’’
‘‘So’m I, actually. Think this means she’s ready to meet you. Speaking of which, there’s someone else here I want you to meet.’’
It was his sister-in-law, Aurelia, who, along with her husband, Seth, was invited to join the group heading over to the DuMosses’ for libations. From Aurelia and Seth Roberta felt only open friendliness, as she did from the DuMosses. How fitting, she thought, on this night when my life takes a significant turn, that I get to know at least some of Gabriel’s family.
The children strayed away in a group to walk to their various homes, leaving the adults to make their way to the DuMoss home in automobiles.
It was there, in the DuMoss parlor, after their first toast to Roberta’s victorious evening, that Gabriel proposed a second toast.
‘‘To my future wife,’’ he said, chiming the rim of his cut-glass
goblet upon Roberta’s. ‘‘Three days ago Roberta consented to marry me.’’
Felicitations poured forth, accompanied by hugs and one seemingly sensible question from Seth. ‘‘Then why didn’t you announce it earlier and save yourself all this unnecessary hell tonight?’’
‘‘She wouldn’t let me,’’ Gabriel replied.
‘‘It’s my nature to be stubborn,’’ Roberta informed them all.
Gabe spoke into his sherry glass. ‘‘You can say that again.’’ When the laughter had subsided he looked into Roberta’s eyes while speaking to the others. ‘‘You see, she wanted to win out over the school board on her own merit, not because she would have a man to take care of her and her children in the future. But she’s going to have one, just the same.’’
‘‘I can take care of myself, Gabriel Farley,’’ she declared very clearly.
‘‘I know you can. I’ve watched you doing it all summer. But two can do it better.’’
She grinned and said, ‘‘I’ll concede to that,’’ then touched his glass again while the others in the room looked on and felt as if they were privy to the inside workings of the relationship between Gabriel Farley and Roberta Jewett. The pair had a camaraderie that surpassed the usual fluttering hearts and damp palms of most courtships. And as for the stringent housewifeprovider setup that prevailed in most marriages . . . anyone in the room could see their marriage wouldn’t be run that way.
She would crisscross the countryside in that sassy motorcar of hers, dressed in a white uniform. And he would probably be left to fend for himself in a house that didn’t get cleaned as often as it should, and would eat late suppers inexpertly prepared, or learn to cook himself.
Elizabeth lifted her glass in an official toast. ‘‘To the future Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Farley!’’
And as many glasses touched, Roberta realized she would have her first true Camden friend in Elizabeth DuMoss.
Eighteen
When Roberta and Gabe got back to her house that night, it was eleven-thirty, the kitchen light was on and all four girls were eating divinity with spoons. ‘‘We tried to get it thick but our arms got tired beating it,’’ Isobel explained. ‘‘But it’s really yummy. Want some?’’
That Camden Summer Page 31