Ivy Secrets (31 page)

She looked into his eyes. They seemed so naive, so unaware of what he had done. Or not done. “To begin with, you introduced me as Charlene.”

“Mother despises nicknames.”

“And you didn’t—” She couldn’t seem to say the words. But this was her future at stake. “You didn’t say a word about our plans to be married.”

Peter stood and walked back to the fire. Charlie looked over to the Christmas tree again, wondering what on earth had ever made her think she could fit in with the Hobarts, with any family with this kind of wealth. Her dreams of money and elegant things, of living in a comfortable home
with no mortgage, seemed to float up the chimney now, carried on the embers of reality.

“You’re afraid of your mother, aren’t you?”

Peter laughed. But he did not deny it.

“That’s why you canceled Labor Day weekend. That’s why you wouldn’t let me come here over Thanksgiving.” Her tears came slowly, but she couldn’t stop them. “You’ve known all along how your mother would react. And you don’t have the guts to stand up to her.”

He continued to stare into the fire. “It’s not as simple as you make it seem,” he said. “She just needs some time to get to know you, that’s all.”

“I don’t think time is going to change anything.”

He poked at the logs again. “I love you, Charlie. Please. Give me some time.”

She watched his back, the back she had come to love. And though she wouldn’t have been as interested in Peter initially if he’d been poor, Charlie knew that she loved him now. And she also knew that because of their differences, it might never work.

“I’d like to go home,” Charlie said. “I’d like to take the next bus to Pittsburgh.”

When he looked at her she could not tell if there were tears in his eyes. “I’ll get your coat,” he said, and left the room.

    Charlie sat on the peacock bench outside Morris House and watched the students comb the campus, ambling in different directions, absorbed in their different lives. Since her return after the New Year, Charlie had spent weeks watching others, wondering if their lives were going any more smoothly than hers. It was already the middle of March: the air was warming, and buds on the trees were stretching, struggling to reach spring. She looked down at the books on her lap and realized that she would have—should have—been busy weaving wedding plans, registering for crystal and china, selecting a honeymoon trousseau. But her fantasy had not come true, so instead of scrawling “Mrs. Peter Hobart” and “Charlie Hobart” on the blank lines of her notebooks, testing the look of her soon-to-be name, Charlie simply sat with a highlighter and pretended to study.

It wasn’t as though Peter hadn’t called. In January, she received five messages; in February, three. So far this month, there had been none. It didn’t matter, for Charlie had no intention of returning his calls. There was no future for them, no hope, no point.

She glanced over to see Marina and Nicholas cut across the sidewalks, moving in her direction. Marina had been rather distant these past weeks, complaining of a heavy workload, though Charlie had walked in on her several times and found the princess sitting on her bed, idly staring at the drawn window shade. Perhaps, like Charlie, Marina felt a twinge of sorrow that graduation was near. Perhaps Marina, too, would be sad to leave the safe, predictable life of a college student. At least, Charlie thought now, Marina knew what she would do for the rest of her life. Even Tess—who had surprisingly bounced back after nearly taking her own life—even Tess had an idea about what she wanted to do with her future. Charlie wondered if after graduation the three of them would ever see one another again.

“How was class?” Charlie asked Marina when she had neared.

Marina shrugged. “Nine more weeks. I can handle it.” She turned to Nicholas. “You can go, Nicholas. I want to sit here with Charlie.

Nicholas frowned.

“Oh, for godssake. I will go inside in a minute. Watch out your apartment window if you do not believe me.”

The man nodded and moved on toward Green Street.

“God,” Marina said, as she slumped on the bench behind Charlie. “He is such a mother hen.”

“Will you be glad to leave here?”

Marina looked at her, then turned her gaze toward the campus. “Maybe,” she said. “Not really.”

“No? At least you’ll be returning to some kind of a normal life.”

Marina laughed. “Normal? Are you kidding?” She swung her feet beneath the bench. Charlie noticed—not for the first time—that Marina’s feet didn’t quite touch the ground.

“What will you do?” Charlie asked. “Will they start grooming you to be queen? Gosh, I can’t imagine what that would be like. Where do you begin?”

Marina gripped the edge of the bench. “I began the day I was born. I have been in training for twenty-one years.” She ducked her head and stared at her feet as they swung back and forth. “I envy you, Charlie.”

“Me?” Charlie laughed. “Oh, sure. I have such a bright future. No job. No husband. Look at you. You don’t need those things. You have a terrific life ahead of you.”

Marina’s eyes glazed over. She bit her lip, then put her face in her hands.

Charlie realized she had said something wrong. “Marina? Are you all right?” If Marina was crying, Charlie could not hear the sobs.

Slowly, the princess lifted her face. There were no tears; only a look of painful sorrow. “Are you sad that you left Peter?”

Charlie felt a lump in her throat. His name alone brought his face into her mind. His soft, gentle face. “Yes,” she answered quietly, “I am sorry I left him. But there was no choice.”

Marina looked out across the lawn. “You love him.”

Charlie swallowed. “Yes.”

“How wonderful that must be. To love someone. To have someone love you in return.”

Charlie thought of all the dates Marina had had during their first year at school—the plethora of boys who scrambled for the chance to go out with the princess. But that had been before Viktor left. Since then, there had been no one. She wondered if Marina was still in love with Viktor. “Marina, surely there will be someone for you to love.”

“Love? I am afraid that is something a princess cannot count on.”

“I think you’re being unfair.”

“No, Charlie. I am being realistic. I can never love a man because I can never be certain any man will love me for myself, for Marina the woman, not Marina the princess.”

Charlie thought for a moment. She thought of Peter, and of her doubts if she would have loved him had he been poor. She remembered her decision that she would have loved him anyway, for better or worse, for rich or for poor. “Maybe none of us can ever be certain why we love someone.”

Marina stared into Charlie’s eyes. “One man loved me.”

Charlie nodded. “Viktor.”

Marina shook her head. “No. Viktor did not love me. I offered myself to him. But Viktor only used me.”

“Who, then? Marina, have you been holding out on me?”

“Yes. But this man was too good to become idle gossip.”

“He loved you.”

“Yes.”

“And you love him?”

Marina stretched her neck and looked up into the clear blue sky. “I do not know. I know I love the way he loved me. The way he made me feel so normal, so alive.”

“Will you see him again?”

“No. It was several months ago.”

“You haven’t seen him since?”

“We both knew it could not work.”

Charlie nodded. She wished that Peter had seen that they could not work; it would have made these past weeks so much easier for them both. “You have the memories though. You have the memories, even though it’s over.” She spoke as much for herself as for her friend.

“I am afraid I have more than that,” Marina said.

Charlie turned to her. “More than that? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I have more than memories.” She looked back up into the sky. “I am going to have a baby, Charlie. I am going to have his baby.”

Charlie thought she must have heard her wrong. “What?”

Marina closed her eyes. “I am four months pregnant, Charlie.”

Charlie gasped. “My God, Marina, you’ve got to be kidding.”

The look on Marina’s face told her she was not.

“What are you going to do?”

The distant look that Charlie had noticed these past weeks once again washed over the face of the princess. “I have no idea.”

A winter cloud moved across the early spring sun, changing the air to gray, chilling the air with fear. Charlie was suddenly aware that the concrete bench had become damp, uncomfortable.

“Marina?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

Marina nodded.

“Maybe we could talk to Tess,” Charlie said. “Maybe Tess will know what to do.”

“She will not know any more than I know. Or than you know.”

“But you can’t just do nothing, Marina. Maybe Tess might know someone …”

“For an abortion? How would Tess know?” Marina looked sharply at Charlie. “I do not want Dell Brooks to know about this.”

“Dell has medical training, Marina. She saved Tess’s life.”

“Bullshit. We saved Tess’s life, Charlie. You and me. Not that communist bitch.”

Charlie sighed. “You’ve never forgiven her for Viktor, have you? Even though you never knew for sure.” As soon as the words were out, Charlie regretted them. She had no business mocking Marina—the girl who had saved her family, the girl to whom Charlie owed so much. She touched Marina’s arm. “God, Marina, I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t want to go to Dell. That was stupid of me.”

Marina stared straight ahead.

“I just thought that between us …”

“We might come up with a solution?” Marina finished Charlie’s thought.

“Yes.”

Marina said nothing.

“Marina,” Charlie continued. “You’re right about something. We did save Tess’s life. You and me. And, in a sense, you saved mine, too. Mine and my family’s.”

“My problem cannot be solved with money, Charlie.”

“No. But maybe it can be solved with friends. With people who love you.” She didn’t know what she and Tess could possibly do, but Charlie knew they would have to try. Marina deserved that much; they owed it to her.

“You don’t understand,” Marina said. “The more people who know the worse it will be. Tess is not to be told.”

Behind them, someone coughed. Charlie turned. Her heart sank. “Exactly what is it I’m not to be told?” Tess asked.

Tess couldn’t believe Marina was pregnant. Of the three of them, the princess was the last she’d have expected to end up like this. But the small mound below the belt of Marina’s jeans suggested the princess was telling the truth.

“So who’s the father?” Tess asked as she moved around the curved bench and sat beside Marina.

Marina said nothing.

“It’s none of our business,” Charlie said.

Tess nodded. “It’s not Nicholas, is it?”

Marina looked at her with venom in her eyes. “Nicholas is older than my father.”

Tess shrugged. “Well, you never know.”

“It is not Nicholas.”

Marina was adamant about not revealing the name of her baby’s father. Tess couldn’t imagine who it could be—any one of the guys she dated probably. Any one of many, though Tess hadn’t noticed anyone sniffing around the princess lately. She tried not to smile. Obviously, there had been someone. So much for royal secrets. “Do you want to have an abortion?”

Marina stood and put her hands in her pockets. “I have been thinking about it.”

“You’d better think fast,” Tess said. “I’m not sure anyone would even do it at four months.”

“What makes you such an expert?”

Tess took a deep breath. “Dell told me.”

“Dell told you?” Charlie asked. “What does Dell know about abortions?”

Tess sucked in her cheeks, wishing she’d never brought up the subject. “Look,” she said, “a lot of college girls get pregnant. They have to go to someone.”

Marina let out a short laugh. “Does Dell Brooks do abortions? Where? In the back room of the bookshop? Do the girls get to read while the babies are being killed?”

“Wait a minute,” Charlie said. “Abortion is legal. Roe versus Wade, remember?”

“That only covers the first three months,” Tess said. “And for your information, Dell doesn’t perform abortions. But she knows a doctor who does.” She let out a sigh, then added, “He’s the one who did mine.”

Rain began to sprinkle from the gray sky.

“
You
had an abortion?” Charlie asked.

No tears came to Tess’s eyes. She stared straight ahead, then turned to watch a group of underclassmen scamper down the steps at Lawrence House. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you surprised that a man would make love to me? I told you about Giorgini. Did you think that was a girl? Did you think I was some kind of lesbian?”

“No, Tess …” Charlie began.

Marina took her seat on the bench again.

“The irony is,” Tess continued, “I had the abortion because my mother would’ve shit.” She sighed again. “As it turned out, my mother would have been dead before the baby was even born. She wouldn’t even have known.” She held out her hand. Cool raindrops splattered onto her palm.

Marina pulled back her hair.

Charlie said, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Tess echoed. “Wow,” then closed her hand and pushed her fist against her side.