Everlasting (25 page)

I think like a woman one hundred years old, Catherine thought. She nestled her head and shoulder against the back of the bench. From a distance the wisteria looked lavender, but now as she studied the long drooping clusters nearly touching her nose, she saw how the blossoms subtly slipped through shades of white, lilac, amethyst. Some of the pod-shaped blossoms were closed like lockets, some opened like wings. It was so quiet, she thought she could hear the tight buds of the roses unfurling in the sun.

Later, she heard distant laughter from the other side of the brick wall. Hortense and Ann.

Later still, the girls swooped down to bring her inside for tea.

* * *

T
he days slipped past Catherine like flowered silk. She rediscovered the pleasures of leisure. Now she ate slowly, savoring flavors, and sat for long quiet hours in the gardens, without a thought in her head. Whenever Ned suggested they all see a movie, she couldn’t be bothered. She let Ann go off with Elizabeth and Tom and Hortense and Ned while she stayed at Everly, in their small music room, listening to their library of classical records. Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert, Schumann. When had she had time to sit so calmly, listening to music, letting it lift and sweep her into pure peace? Never before in her life. Every night she went to bed feeling physically enriched, as if she’d eaten jewels.

She spent some few hours of the day talking with the various Boxworthys. Elizabeth especially claimed her attention, wanting to tell her about Tom and their wedding plans. They sat on the third floor, in Elizabeth’s room, fingering the buttery satin she was using to make her wedding gown.

“Tom’s so good,” Elizabeth confided, enraptured, “so kind, so intelligent! He’s not like Ned, all fast and quick and brittle. He’s deep. And so wondrously handsome. I never dreamed I’d marry such a handsome man.”

Catherine smiled, amused and touched. Actually, at his best Tom could be called pleasant-looking. He had brown hair, brown eyes, pointed ears, and a nose that was rather too large for his face, and he was slender, but not muscular. Catherine thought he looked soft and would be pudgy by forty. The most attractive thing about him was how happy he looked when he talked to Elizabeth. Sometimes when they were all together having tea, Catherine would see the two lovers glance at each other across the room, smile their conspirators’ smile, and then Tom would blush, a rosy hue spreading from his collar up and out to his glowing ears.

Elizabeth at twenty-three was still soft and gentle, her light brown hair waving around her face to her shoulders, her gray-blue eyes bright; she looked like one of God’s milder angels. Her body was full, gracefully curving and sloping. Undoubtedly the lucky Tom found her voluptuous.

For Elizabeth and Tom were already lovers, and clearly that made everything in life worthwhile. Catherine listened while Elizabeth spoke of love, of feeling that profound certainty that this person was the right, the only, person, that the world had been created solely for the purpose of their meeting and loving.

This was how Catherine had felt with Kit. She was flushed with memory. She dreamed of him. When Elizabeth spoke of love, there was nothing in her voice to suggest the obscene or extreme, no danger, no terror, no challenge. Their love was as safe as cream in a pitcher.

But Kit was marrying—had married, by now—Haley Hilton. Yet here in England, Catherine did not feel the pain as piercingly. Here she felt protected.

They were to stay at Everly for ten days, and by the seventh Catherine began to sense her body filling up with energy, strength, renewed desire, as if she were a wilting plant placed in a bowl of water, drawing nourishment up through her roots. One night it rained, and Ned entertained the guests and his family by reading poetry in the library, where a fire burned, warming the chilly room. Catherine had seen little of Ned during her stay. He was not around during the day; busy working in the office on the accounts, she supposed. At night he always took a group into town for a movie or to visit the most picturesque pubs, but she’d never gone along. Her experiment with Ann appeared to be working; Ann was nearly drooling as she watched Ned read, and whenever Ned looked at her, Ann’s cheeks flamed.

“ ‘Though nothing can bring back the hour/ Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;/ We will grieve not, rather find/ Strength in what remains behind …’ ”

As Ned read Wordsworth’s words, Catherine pondered them. Surely she had not had her hour of splendor in the grass. The time with Kit had been so brief—and in the end, so false! She was only twenty-five and not ready to live the rest of her life muddling on with only strength.

The next morning, after breakfast, when Ann had gone off with Hortense to the gardens, Catherine was surprised to have Ned gently take her by the arm as she was leaving the dining room.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you during this visit,” he said, “and you’re here only for two more days. Have you been purposely avoiding me? Be honest.”

“Oh, no, Ned. I’ve just been very tired. I spend so much of my life surrounded by people, it’s been a luxury to be by myself.”

“Ah. I thought perhaps there was a man in your life, a jealous man, who might not appreciate any attentions you’d pay to your old friend.”

“No. There’s no man in my life, jealous or otherwise.”

“Then spend the day with me. I thought we could take a picnic lunch and walk up the back hill. You can see all over the world from up there, and it’s a glorious day.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll put on my walking shoes.”

“I’ll get a picnic ready and meet you here in thirty minutes.”

They walked through Everly’s formal gardens, which ended with a wall of green boxwood, passed through the arched doorway cut into the hedge and out into open fields. The land rolled gradually down to a stream, then gently ascended again. It was a nice knobby hill, undulating, fallow, the young grass only ankle-high. Catherine and Ned walked companionably, matching their strides in an easy cadence, taking their time, huffing slightly, for the hill was higher and steeper than it looked. Ned carried a wicker basket with him, Catherine the blanket he’d given her.

“We’re lucky in the weather this year,” Catherine said.

“You’ve changed since you were here last,” Ned told her.

“I’m older. We’re both older.”

“Yes, but I don’t think I’ve changed as drastically as you have. Do you?”

Catherine smiled at him. “No. You’re the same. Happy Ned. Well, I bought a business. When I came last time I was only a little shop girl, and now I’m the owner of a very successful flower shop. I wish you could see it, Ned. Blooms is a marvelous place. I have four full-time employees and hire others seasonally, I’ve made enough money to buy my own apartment in New York …”

As she talked about Blooms, strange shoots of sensation pierced Catherine, and she realized with a smile that what she was feeling was homesickness. She was so utterly engrossed in her thoughts of the flower shop that she was surprised when Ned said, “But what about men? True love? No marriage in sight? No Prince Charmings in hot pursuit?”

Catherine laughed. What if she were to tell Ned she hadn’t slept with any man since she’d slept with him here at Everly? He’d probably faint with fear, thinking she’d placed too much importance on their little amorous episode.

“No men. I’ve been too busy. I see some men, of course, but really, Ned, I work so hard, and believe it or not, it’s possible for a woman to be happy without a man in her life.”

They had reached the top of the hill now. Together they spread the blanket over the soft grass, then stretched out on it.

“What a wonderful view! You can see all over the world from here!” Catherine said, looking down at the fields of jade and emerald, which unfurled like banners in all directions. Everly was a spot of chimneys hidden behind trees. In the distance a ribbon of road wound past, dotted with an occasional bright spot of car.

Ned set out the picnic things: watercress sandwiches, ham and tomato and cheese sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, pears, chocolate bars. From thick white linen napkins, he unrolled champagne and two crystal glasses.

“How lovely! How elegant!” Catherine cried. After they’d toasted and sipped, she asked, “And what about you? And women, I mean. You’re my age, twenty-five, and I don’t see any sweet young thing wearing your engagement ring.”

“I imagine it will be a long time before I find the perfect girl,” Ned said, leaning back on his elbows. “I believe in love, of course, but it would be nice to fall in love with a girl with money. To help out poor Everly.”

“What if you fall in love with a girl with an Everly of her own? Her own estate to keep up?”

“That wouldn’t work at all. The woman I marry must be willing to spend her life here, to devote her life to Everly. I’m the oldest son, I’ll inherit, this is my home, and it’s up to me to live here and take care of the place, and, eventually, my mother.”

“You mean you couldn’t ever leave Everly to live somewhere else if you wanted to?”

“Why would I want to?”

“That’s not the point. I mean, don’t you feel a little imprisoned by all this? A bit like a sacrificial lamb?”

“God, no! I feel incredibly lucky. As for love and marriage, what woman wouldn’t be proud and honored to live here? I’m glad I have such a home and such a family to support. I only wish I did it better. I’d like to take some of the burden off Mother. She’s almost sixty now and shouldn’t have to work so hard.”

Men and their families, Catherine thought, thinking of Kit. Some men, some families. Her father didn’t feel that way about the American Everly, and Shelly certainly felt no responsibility toward his parents.

They continued talking as they ate their lunch, then lay back drowsily on the blanket in the heat of the sun. It was a good thing she didn’t love Ned, Catherine thought. As much as she loved the British Everly, she’d never want to give up Blooms, and she’d never be able to submit her life to the needs of Ned’s family and his family’s house.

Closing her eyes, she stretched languorously. The champagne and the sun’s heat made her feel as if she were melting. Then Ned rolled close to her and kissed her full on the mouth. At first it was a friendly kiss, then it became more serious.

“Ned!” she said, opening her eyes, pushing him away. “We can’t! Not up here, not out in the open!”

“Why not? Who in the world could see us? No one! Look, we’re on top of the world. It would take anyone half an hour to climb up here, and I can see all the way around, no one’s in sight.”

“Ned—”

But she was too aroused to protest further. Fully clothed, he lay on top of her, kissing her, moving against her, and then he shoved her skirt up around her hips and gently pulled off her underpants.

“Unbutton your dress, Catherine. Let me see your breasts.”

She unbuttoned her dress. He unbuttoned his shirt and undid his trousers. The ground was hard and unyielding beneath Catherine’s back, and a pebble dug uncomfortably into her shoulder. It had been so long since she’d made love with a man that at first it was unpleasant, almost painful. But Ned was beautiful and sweet and gentle in his lovemaking. She loved having her arms and legs wrapped around this hard man, loved the rush of breath against her cheek, on her neck, in her ear, loved the heat and push of his body. The smell of his clean hair and skin mingled with the fragrance of the sweet grass they were crushing. Above Ned’s shoulders, high in the blue sky, swallows wheeled and soared. Closing her eyes, Catherine was lost to the birds’ shrill cries and Ned’s deep, gruff, gasping pleasure. Then he collapsed against her, nuzzling her neck, telling her how lovely she was, and there on top of a hill in England, in the hot quiet bright light of the summer sun, Catherine did feel completely lovely.

* * *

W
alking back down to the house, Ned said, “Come to my room tonight. And tomorrow night. We’ve got only two nights before you leave.”

“I’d love to, but Ann … Not that she’d be shocked if she thought I were sleeping with a man, not that. I think Ann’s got a crush on you, Ned.”

Ned grinned. “You could be right. I like Ann, too. Oh, don’t be alarmed. She’s only seventeen. I’m not going to seduce her. She’s too young. Yes, I see the problem. I’d hate to hurt her feelings. You’re right. You’re a good sister, Catherine.” He put his arm around her and patted her shoulder in a comradely way. “We’re good to our families, you and I.”

But after they’d passed through the arched hedge into the formal garden, Ned said, “Still. Perhaps if you wait until she’s asleep? We’ll get her to drink a little brandy, maybe she’ll pass out—in a nice healthy way.”

“You’re awful, Ned,” Catherine said, but returned his smile. Secretly she was quite pleased to know that it was she Ned was interested in, not her golden-haired princess-faced sister.

And in spite of her virtue, she managed to slip away to his room and make love with him both nights before they left. She never thought she loved Ned, but she liked him a lot, and he had rekindled within her a desire for sexual pleasure that she’d completely forgotten. She felt alive again, renewed, ready for anything.

* * *

O
n their flight back to New York, Ann said, “Catherine, guess what! Hortense suggested I spend next summer at Everly. I could work there, and they might pay me, at least they’d give me room and board. Wouldn’t that be heavenly?”

“What about Troy?”

“Oh, come on, Catherine. How can you even ask? Troy just seems so—one-sided—after everyone at Everly. I mean, he’s handsome, but Ned’s handsomer, and he’s much more interesting than Troy. But anyway, Hortense says she’s not ready to give up her life to drool around after some man, and I’m not either. Maybe college won’t be so bad. I’m going to work really hard. I want to learn everything! I feel so stupid around the Boxworthys!”

Catherine leaned back against the headrest, relaxing, listening to Ann chatter on. She felt smug, clever, proud of herself. She’d taken Ann to Everly to make her forget about Troy, and she had succeeded.