Four Seasons of Romance (14 page)

Walter wouldn’t have to work another day in his life if he
didn’t want to, based on what he stood to inherit. Even then, he’d have more
than enough money to raise a family.

He’s right
, Catherine thought. She hated the thought
of choosing wallet over love, but when it came to raising a family, money
solved problems. Nevertheless, the very thought of leaving Leo made her cry
inside.

A week later, Catherine was with him at The Alley Cat, a bar
frequented mostly by artists, writers, prostitutes, and musicians. Dimly lit,
two dirty rowboats hung from the rafters as a decoration. “Isn’t it great?” Leo
gushed. “
Me
and the guys from the track come here all
the time.” He caught Catherine’s look. “
Used
to come here,” he corrected
himself.

She took one whiff of the dank interior and thought there
were many places she’d rather be as Leo ordered a round of drinks and some
French fries. The only other person at the bar was a young woman in tight jeans,
a pink blouse that dipped well below her cleavage, and dusty red cowboy boots,
her red-rimmed eyes matching her smudged lipstick.

Leo decided to strike up a conversation. Catherine had often
marveled at how Leo could talk to anyone, whether it was the President of the
United States or a common prostitute—and anyone between.

“You come here often?” Leo asked the girl, who gave a sad
little laugh at this well-worn line.

“Only when I’ve got a good reason to cry in my beer,” she
responded, a slight twang in her speech. Between that and the cowboy boots, it
seemed clear she was from the South.

“It can’t be all that bad, can it?” Leo asked.

The girl’s eyes welled up with a fresh bout of tears. “My
boyfriend broke up with me today,” she said. “He thought I was
cheatin
’.”

“Were you?” Leo asked.

She gave him a look as if she might slap him, and then
thought better of it. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she said,
taking another chug of beer. “But no, I
ain’t
never
done a thing to Wilson.
Wouldn’t
dream of it.”

Leo called the bartender over. “I’d like to buy this girl a
drink.
Whatever she wants.
Choose your poison.”

“Whiskey,” said the woman.
“Straight up.”

“Atta girl,” Leo said. “Better make it three.”

Once the bartender had poured three tumblers of whiskey, Leo
raised his glass.

“Here’s to fidelity.”

The girl chortled and raised her glass. “I’ll drink to
that.”

They both looked at Catherine, who dutifully raised her
drink to join in the toast.

The next hour unfolded with ease; Leo was gregarious, especially
when drinking, and had a penchant for making friends overnight, especially with
the help of a drink or two. Roxy, as the girl was named, was originally from
Tennessee, an aspiring country singer who’d moved to Philadelphia to be with
the man she loved. The man, however, turned out to be jealous, controlling, and
abusive.
Much like my father
, Catherine mused.

But as the drinks kept coming, she felt more and more
uncomfortable. “Maybe it’s time we head back,” she whispered, wary of Leo
drinking
himself
sick again.

Leo nodded but then turned to Roxy, gave her a wry grin, and
said, “
Wanna
come back to my room with us? I’ve got a
bottle of whiskey with our name on it.”

Roxy’s face brightened. “Come back with ya’ll? I’d love to!”

Catherine felt a lump in her stomach as they made their way
to Leo’s building. There, the three of them perched on his queen-sized bed as
he poured three shooters of I.W. Harper Kentucky Whiskey, Roxy batting her eyes
seductively. The singer from Tennessee became looser the more she drank—from
patting Leo on the shoulder to even pinching Catherine’s cheek and whispering,
“You got yourself a pretty one,
dontcha
?”

Catherine wanted to leave this increasingly strange scene
but feared leaving them alone. She was about to tell Leo that it was late and
Roxy had to leave when he kissed Catherine in front of Roxy, who looked on with
genuine interest.

Finally, Leo leaned over and placed his hand on Roxy’s leg.
“Let’s spend the night together,” he murmured, his lips inches from Catherine’s
lips and his hand on Roxy’s leg.
“The three of us.”

“Count me in,” Roxy purred.

Catherine’s discomfort turned to shock, and then turned to
outrage. Was this her Leo, the one who said there was no one in the world he
wanted but her?

She stood. “I’m going home,” she said. “But I’m not going
alone.” She pointed to Roxy. “You’re leaving too.”

“But the party just started!” Roxy pouted.

“She doesn’t want to go,” Leo said. “Come on, babe.” He
reached for Catherine’s hand, but she jerked it out of reach.

“This is wrong, Leo. What are you thinking? Oh, wait—you’re
not
thinking, because you’re drunk.”

He blinked. “You’re angry,” he said. “Please, don’t go when
you’re angry. Stay with us.”

“With
us
?”
Catherine shook
her head. “We don’t even know this woman. Roxy, you seem like a nice girl, but
I’m sure you understand why you need to get out of here now.”

At that moment, Roxy didn’t look as if she understood much
of anything.

Disgusted, Catherine turned back to Leo. “If you don’t make
her leave, it’s over. You won’t see me again.”

Leo groaned, recapping the whiskey bottle and shoving it
under the bed. “Nice to meet you, Roxy,” he said. “I guess you have to go.”

Roxy stuck out her bottom lip. “I thought we were
gearin
’ up for a good night.”

“We were,” Leo retorted, glaring at Catherine.

With an unbecoming snort, Roxy made her way to the door. “I
guess I’ll be
goin
’ then. You Yanks don’t
got
nothin
’ on Southern
hospitality.”

With that, she stomped out the door, Leo watching her go
with a wistful expression, but when he looked back at Catherine, any
wistfulness was gone. “I hope you’re happy,” he said.

Catherine laughed. “No, Leo,
happy
is not the word I
was searching for.”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re upset. I did what you asked—I
made her leave.”

She shook her head.
“Only because I
threatened to leave you if you didn’t.
What are you thinking, Leo? You
had your hand on her leg when I was two feet away!”

“I thought we were all in the mood,” he said flatly.

Catherine reached under the bed and yanked out the whiskey.
“It’s this stuff,” she spat. “That’s what I blame. You become a completely
different person when there’s booze in your blood. You would never have seduced
another woman and tried to get the two of us in bed if you were sober.”

Leo reached for his glass in silence.

“Stop drinking,” Catherine said.

“Stop telling me what to do.”

She threw the bottle on the bed, sending it across the
pillows and onto the soft mattress, but Leo lunged for it, cradling the bottle
in his arms as if it were a child.

“We’re over, Leo,” Catherine said, laying her shaking hand
on the doorknob. “I’m done with this.”

“No!” Leo crawled toward her, the bottle still in his arms.
“Please don’t go. I love you, Catherine. Don’t do this to us.” He fell to the
floor and wrapped his arms around her legs.

The tears burned hot behind Catherine’s eyes as she sank to
the floor and lifted Leo’s chin.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice
wavering. “I love you, Leo, but I can’t live like this. I can’t watch you
destroy your body and waste your life away. And I won’t share you with other
women.” Her voice broke, the tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “I have to
move on,” she continued, her voice choked. “You were
my
everything
, but it can’t be like this. I’m sorry.”

She stood to go, Leo still encircled around her legs, his
arms gone limp. “I’m leaving,” she said. “And I won’t be coming back.” She
placed her hand on Leo’s shoulder one last time but withdrew it quickly,
holding back sobs.

“Good-bye,” she said and walked out of his room and out of
his life. The sobs that wracked Leo’s body then were like a ship run aground on
the rocks—the sound of a broken vessel that would never float again.

*

Catherine felt lost as she walked away from the hotel, not even
knowing which direction she was heading, just placing one foot in front of the
other. The look on Leo’s face haunted her memory—a horrible look, full of loss
and betrayal. Then, she remembered the way he had so cavalierly placed his hand
on that woman’s leg... or the way he drank without stopping, even when she
begged him to quit... or the fact that he had no job and nothing to offer her.

Yet, there was a pang of doubt and a shadow of regret in her
consciousness, the thought that maybe, just maybe, she should have stayed and
helped Leo instead of abandoning him. On the other hand, she had no desire to
stay out drinking or watch him race cars at breakneck speeds or have illicit
rendezvous with random women they met at bars.
That’s not romantic
, she
reasoned.
That’s dangerous and irresponsible
.

She shook her head fiercely, hoping to shake away the tears
spilling from her eyes. “It’s over,” she said aloud. “It’s the only way.”

Catherine checked her watch. It was late, but she didn’t
want to go home and face her thoughts lying alone in her bed. She decided to
stop by Walter’s place instead.

Desperate for at least a semblance of connection with
another human being, she knocked on Walter’s door thirty minutes later, her
heart beating so loudly in her chest she was afraid she’d wake the whole
neighborhood. The porch light went on, and a few minutes later, a
groggy
Walter opened the door. His hair was tousled, as he
stood there in his smoking jacket, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Catherine,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, but her face belied her as it crumpled into
tears.

Walter opened his arms as she buried her face in his
shoulder. “Come in,” he said. “I hate the thought of you out this late alone.
Please, come inside.”

Gently, he led her to a velvet armchair and covered her with
a blanket, then made her a cup of tea and sat beside her as she drank it
slowly. Walter said nothing, waiting for her to speak.

“You were right,” she said finally. “You were right about
Leo. It’s over now.”

Walter patted her head, offering no words of admonishment.

She squeezed his hand. “I want to get married,” Catherine
said.
“To you.
You’re the right man for me. And I
don’t want to wait. If I could, I’d marry you right now.”

Walter adjusted the sash of his smoking jacket. “Perhaps a
marriage at two in the morning is not the best kind.”

Catherine nodded. “I agree, but I don’t want to wait until
October. Let’s elope.” The proposal shocked her, even though she was the one
who made it. Elope with Walter Murray? An elopement was the sort of thing Leo
Taylor would do—and, in fact, what he’d suggested for years.

But to her surprise, Walter began to pace the length of the
living room in serious contemplation. “What about Mother?” he asked.

“We’ll have a reception after our return.
For
her and all our friends.”
The wheels in Catherine’s head churned quickly
as she set down her teacup, took Walter’s hand in hers, and kissed it. “Let’s
go to Niagara Falls,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to see it. We won’t tell
anyone—we’ll just do it. Then, we’ll come back and celebrate with the people we
love.”

Just in case he needed more convincing, Catherine kissed
each of his fingertips lightly. “I love you, Walter,” she whispered. “I want to
spend the rest of my life with you.”

Whatever calculations Walter did in his head, she couldn’t
tell, but they must have worked. “All right,” he said. “We’ll go this weekend.”

So, Catherine and Walter were married that weekend in
Niagara Falls, New York, a whirlwind of a wedding. All the normal trappings
were discarded—Catherine protested that she didn’t want a dress, flowers, or
any usual nonsense. She just wanted to be married to Walter so they could begin
their life, and Walter was happy to defer to her wishes.

The wedding was hurried and unremarkable, as was the
consummation of their marriage, but Catherine had expected as much. She hadn’t
chosen to marry Walter because he’d be a fantastic lover. In fact, she’d been
betting on the fact that he’d be anything but... and she was right.

When they returned to Philadelphia, Catherine headed to her
apartment to gather her belongings. The phone rang every half-hour, and she
knew it was Leo. After a few hours, she pulled the cord out of the wall,
wrapping the disconnected phone in newspaper and laying it in the bottom of a
cardboard box

But the next day, Catherine was held to account; she was
alone in her apartment separating things for the movers when she heard someone
pounding on her door. When she opened it, there he was on her step—the same Leo
with his large imploring eyes, holding a vase full of wild lilies and
black-eyed
Susans
. Bowing his head slightly, he held
it out to her as she accepted it awkwardly

“May I come in?” he asked.

“I don’t know whether that’s really...”

Before she had time to finish her sentence, Leo looked
behind her and saw the piles of boxes and packing tape and his eyes lit up.
“You’re packing for DC!” he said. “I
knew
you hadn’t given up on us.”

Catherine shook her head slowly, struggling to find the
right words, then, she held up her left hand. The ring Walter had bought her
was simple but unmistakable—a slender gold wedding band.