Circled Heart (35 page)

Caught off guard, I said, “I have no idea what you consider a good time.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” he responded gently. “You know that better than anyone else,” and gave me a look that literally made my knees weak, the first time I realized the words could be more than a figure of speech. Made mute by everything his look and his words implied, I could only stare, so that he was forced to say, “This isn’t the time and place I would have chosen, but please forgive me for all my bad behavior and promise we can be friends again.”

Friends? I wanted to say. Is that what you think I want? Perhaps because I hesitated, Drew put a hand to my arm.

“Johanna, can’t we at least talk about it?”

I found my tongue. “Of course, we can. I was struck dumb by your assumption that your behavior was somehow worse than mine. On second thought maybe it was, I don’t know, but it would certainly be worth a conversation.”

Drew gave me the full force of his grin. “I think so, too.”

“But not now. Now I have to do familial duty. My aunt expects me to be the dark foil to Jennie and because Jennie’s the one being feted, I don’t begrudge the contrast.”

“You shouldn’t. Your cousin is a lovely girl but next to you in red, she fades into the woodwork. I say that with all due respect.”

“You’re just complimenting me because red was your idea,” I tossed back, but at his words my heart started to sing some nameless, joyful song that threatened to drown out all the other sounds in the room. I love this man, I thought, and whether he loves me in return doesn’t matter at the moment. It’s enough to be with him on any terms. Maybe that won’t do forever, but forever’s a long time, and I’m not one to live in the future. All I’ve ever needed for happiness is today. Drew began a reply, but I saw Grandmother raise a hand for me. “I have to go, Drew. I’m being summoned and it’s Jennie’s party, after all. I really am along only for contrast.” I slipped regretfully away from the warmth of his touch on my arm and went over to where Grandmother sat, one hand resting lightly on her cane. She’d made wonderful progress the last six weeks but still seemed too frail.

“I’m worried about Jennie,” she told me. “Kitty and Harry are busy with the crowd and Carl’s been in his father’s shadow all afternoon. I thought Jennie looked pale and then I saw her head for the ladies’ lounge. Make sure she’s well, Johanna.” I could tell from Grandmother’s tone that she was serious in her concern, and knowing that she was not one to be alarmed over trifles, I slipped out of the room.

Jennie wasn’t in the nearer lounge, and I went farther down the hall to the second, smaller ladies’ area. I didn’t think she would have passed the former to come to this plainer and more common lounge, but I stepped inside anyway to take a brief look. On the wall of the foyer hung a full-length mahogany-framed mirror and standing sideways before the mirror, both hands splayed on her abdomen, was Jennie. The click of the outer door interrupted her reverie, and she turned her head slowly away from the mirror to look directly at me. I don’t know how I knew. Perhaps because I recognized something intangible in her that I had seen before in a number of the girls at the Anchorage, or perhaps it was the expression on her face, tender and despairing all at once. Whatever the clue, I was immediately certain.

“Jennie.” When she moved, the original illusion disappeared, but I knew, for better or worse, that I was right. “How far along?”

She didn’t bother to deny anything. “Four months.” I didn’t know what to say and Jennie went on, “I’ve known for weeks. I think I knew from the very moment of conception. I should have done something about it, but I didn’t know what to do or who to ask. I couldn’t ask you.”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Would you have helped me get rid of it? Would you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so, and it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m such a coward about pain, I never could have gone through with it even if I’d found someone willing. Now I’m glad I didn’t. Poor little thing, why should it have to die alone when I’m the one at fault?” I should have caught the implication of her words, but I didn’t, too intent on my response.

“Jennie, you don’t have to think or talk like that. These things happen in all families.” I went forward so I stood closer to her. “I’m sure Carl will do the honorable thing.”

At my words, Jennie began to laugh, one hand over her mouth to control the sound, her shoulders shaking, tears forming in her eyes, laughing in a way that wasn’t laughter at all, until I was forced to put both hands on her shoulders and give her a firm shake.

“Stop now. Stop, Jennie.” I put my arms around her and held her close, her laughter turning into hiccups and her whole body trembling in a way that broke my heart. “It will be all right, love. We’ll move the wedding up. It’s no one’s business but yours and Carl’s anyway.” I was overwhelmed with tenderness and a desire to protect and comfort her.

My words or perhaps the affection in my tone galvanized her into an unexpected reaction. With surprising force, Jennie broke free and pushed away from me, bumping into a small loveseat that sat against the wall. The heavy skirts of her gown tangled around her feet and she lost her balance enough to drop heavily onto the cushions. Jennie being Jennie, though, she made even that ungainly action look graceful.

“You don’t understand, Johanna.”

“I understand more than you know.”

“No. No, you don’t. This has nothing to do with Carl.” It took me a moment to understand the full implication of her words, but when her meaning finally dawned on me, I needed to sit down, too.

“Then who?” I finally managed to ask.

Seeming to take strength from my shock, Jennie answered in a firm voice, “I won’t tell you. You especially don’t need to know; it would only make matters worse.” I wondered about that comment—“you especially”—and sensing my disquiet, she quickly added, “It doesn’t matter, Johanna. Not any more. For the past two months I’ve been doing my best to arrange it so Carl would think it was his. That would have made it so much simpler, but Carl’s a Milford and a Milford man expects his blushing bride to wait until her wedding night. Stupid, stupid man. I made a fool of myself on more than one occasion and all it did was make the idiot think I was beside myself with desire for him. He’s not the brightest star in the sky, but even if I can still fit into my wedding gown, Carl will manage to figure out that a baby born four months after the wedding night isn’t his.”

“Oh, Jennie.”

“If I go through with the wedding, Carl will divorce me.”

“He wouldn’t, Jennie, not if he loves you.”

“Of course, he would. If it’s a son, do you think he’ll turn the Milford fortune and the Milford name over to a child that’s not his? Even if he loved me that much, which, believe me, he doesn’t, his parents certainly don’t. They’d have me out of the family in a heartbeat, and if Carl didn’t agree, they’d disinherit him and pass everything along to his brother. I know them and I know him. Carl won’t risk that.”

“What about the baby’s father?” Jennie’s face softened at my words, one hand moving without conscious intent to rest gently on her stomach.

“Mother would never allow it.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, whether she was talking about marrying the father of her child or following through with the pregnancy, but I responded grimly, “She may not have much to say about it now. Is he someone who’ll do the right thing? He must be someone you care for.”

“Care for,” Jennie repeated. She managed to color the two simple words with a myriad of emotions—longing, despair, a wisp of tenderness—before she shook her head decidedly back to reality.

“It doesn’t matter, Johanna. I can’t tell Mother. I can’t. My whole life all she’s ever dreamed of, all she’s ever hoped for and talked about, is a great society wedding, our name linked with the right kind of family and our pictures on the society page. And here it is, just within her grasp, an east coast name, a family fortune, everything she hoped for. You saw her today. I’ve never seen her so happy, and I can’t tell her. I can’t face her. I can’t.”

“Well, I can,” I said, but when I started to rise, Jennie grasped my hand and pulled me back down beside her.

“It’s not your business, Johanna. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“I can’t promise that.”

Jennie examined my face with desperate intensity. I don’t know what she saw there, but the tension in her suddenly deflated and she said softly, “I know you can’t, but just for a little while, Johanna. Promise you won’t say anything for a little while. Let the party go on as it is. Let the Milfords finish their visit. Let Mother have her time in the spotlight. Promise, Johanna.” At my continued hesitation, she went on, “Promise. For me.”

“But, Jennie, what will we do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something. I always do. And in the meanwhile, why spoil the party and the Milfords’ visit for Mother? What will another few days hurt? Promise it will be our secret.”

Against my better judgment, I nodded. “Only for today, though. We’ll take it one day at a time. Tomorrow I’m taking you to tea and we’ll figure something out. I know there’s a way through this, Jennie. Everything will be all right.”

She stood to face the mirror, pinned up the stray hairs that had fallen loose, and smoothed away traces of tears from her cheeks.

“When you say that, Johanna, I can almost believe it.” Before I could respond, she turned toward me and said, “I’ve been so crazy with worry—like a creature caught in a trap—that telling someone was a relief. I’m glad it was you, Johanna. I see things more clearly now. Thank you.” Before we walked out into the hallway together to return to the main ballroom, Jennie kissed me gently on the cheek. “I admire you so much. I wish I could have been just like you.” In hindsight, I believe the words should have alarmed me, something in their phrasing or tense should have given me pause, but how could I have known? Instead, touched by her words but back among guests and family, I only squeezed her hand in reply.

The afternoon stretched on interminably. For a while I watched Jennie covertly, but she seemed herself again, accepting congratulations with an unaffected smile, moving among the guests with an ease that came naturally and becomingly to her. When the caterers began to set out refreshments, I retreated to the large windows that overlooked the lake and stopped long enough to rest my warm forehead against the cold glass. All I could think about was Jennie, poor girl, and facing Aunt Kitty with the news. I couldn’t begin to imagine my aunt’s reaction, and I knew a moment’s pity for her, too. She’d spent the past twenty years devoted to her children, loving them in her own way and picturing success for them on her terms, a perfect matrimonial match for Jennie, an influential and prestigious position for Peter, her own dreams, whatever they once were, submerged in her hopes for her children. Now all that would change forever. Despite the claims of progress, once word got out about Jennie’s condition, her prospects for any kind of prominent marriage would disappear. What had Grandmother told me on Christmas Eve when I proclaimed the freedoms of a new century? “Not really as different a world as you like to think, nor ever will be as far as I’m concerned.” I hated to admit it, but maybe she was right. Maybe nothing really changed. Maybe people couldn’t forgive or forget because people never changed, not inside, not where it mattered.

I turned away from the window and its view of the broad expanse of frozen lake to face Drew, who stood quietly next to me, waiting for me to notice him.

“I’ve been watching you for the past hour and something’s wrong. Your glow has dimmed, but I don’t believe it’s something as ordinary as being tired. Is it your grandmother’s health?”

I was grateful for his calm interest and wanted nothing more than to find a quiet spot, somewhere far away from the milling, chattering group of guests, where I could sit very close to him and tell him the reason for my sudden heartsickness. But that wouldn’t have been fair to Jennie, who demanded and deserved my confidence.

“No, Grandmother’s doing fine; though it’s clear to me she’ll never be strong again, not as she once was. Time goes by so fast, doesn’t it, and there’s no constant in it.”

“It’s the surprises that give time meaning and make life worth living.”

Thinking of Jennie, I replied, “Not all surprises are good ones, Drew.”

“No, but they’re all necessary. You of all people wouldn’t want the same day repeated over and over. What would you do without new causes and new worlds to conquer?” I started to tell him that I had enough causes for the time being, thank you very much, when over his shoulder and through the window I spied a spot of blue at the shoreline. At first I couldn’t believe what I saw and then, knowing it to be true, I gasped and quickly turned away.

“What is it?” Drew asked, sharp and observant.

“Excuse me,” I answered. “Jennie needs me,” and slipped away from him, moving along the edge of the room and out the door, trying not to draw attention to myself. The weather had warmed significantly over the past week, but it was still unwise for Jennie to be out in the cold, wandering along the lakeshore, of all places, and without a coat. She could be seen clearly from the Club’s windows besides. What was she thinking? Jennie must have been more distressed than I thought and anger at my own lack of awareness made me pick up speed. By the time I was outside, I was running, afraid of something nameless and terrible, afraid I would be too late. I didn’t grab a coat, either, and the wind off the lake was biting, but as I drew closer to the shoreline, I never gave the temperature a thought. All I could see, all I could think about or focus on was the spot of blue that moved slowly and methodically out onto the frozen lake. It was impossible to run in the hobble skirt I wore, so I stopped at the shore to hike it above my knees before venturing onto the ice. The soft layer of snow gave me some traction, but I still was unable to hurry as fast as I wished for fear of taking a fall. Jennie, perhaps a hundred yards ahead of me and walking at a steady, relaxed pace, had no idea I was there until I called her name. My voice carried clearly in the cold air but except for a tiny hesitation, Jennie didn’t turn or acknowledge my presence.