Shadow of Guilt (15 page)

She swung back to Ala, glaring down at her. “The time’s come to protect the good people, the innocent people for a change. If you think you can’t face what you’ve brought on yourself, then that’s too bad because you’re going to have to face it. If you don’t tell Lieutenant Trant and if George doesn’t—then I will. I’ve said it already and I say it again and I mean it. You understand?”

For a moment she stood swinging her contempt at us like a sword. Then, with a toss of the head, she started toward the door.

“Connie,” I called.

“There’s nothing more to say.”

“Oh, isn’t there.” It was Ala who suddenly spoke. The fierce challenge of her voice made Connie turn back just as she had reached the door.

Ala got off the bed. She was as cold now, as cold and deadly as Connie. For one second she flashed a glance at me. It repudiated all connection with someone who had betrayed her.

“Okay, Connie,” she said, “you’re going to tell Trant, are you?”

Connie didn’t speak. She stood there with her arms folded in front of her.

“All right,” said Ala. “Tell him. It’ll be lovely for all of us. Lovely for you, too. Maybe loveliest of all for you.”

Still Connie said nothing, and the antagonism in the atmosphere was suffocating.

“You see, there’s one thing you forgot to ask George, isn’t there? He came there to Don’s. He heroically got me away. All right. But why was it George? How do you think he happened to get there? I’ll tell you. I’ll put you out of your suspense. When I was at Don’s, when I found him dead, when I was in a panic of terror, who was there for me to turn to for help? You? Do you think I was going to give you another chance to be smug and noble? Don’t make me laugh. There was only one person I could think of—only one person I could trust to be kind, to be human—Mrs. Lord. She was the one I called from Don’s, and George was the one who came because he was there with her. And do you know why he was there? He was there the way I went off with Gene and with Don Saxby. He was there snatching a few moments when he got the chance, just the way I snatched a few moments when I got a chance. That’s something for you to tell Trant, too. Dear Lieutenant Trant, I’ve managed to turn my daughter into a juvenile delinquent, but that’s not all. Oh, no, I’ve achieved something far more brilliant than that. I’ve driven my husband into keeping his dear little secretary in a love nest.”

She spun around to me. She was smiling but it was more a grimace than a smile, a grimace of loathing for herself, for me, for all of the world. “Don Saxby told me all about it when we were driving up to Massachusetts. He caught them kissing in a restaurant. And George admitted it, Don said. George told him it had been going on for months and months. I—I wasn’t going to tell. I thought it was fine. Good for George, I thought. Get a little warmth, that’s what we all need around Consuelo Corliss, a little warmth. More power to George. But—but if you’re going to tell Trant about me, all right, tell him. But, while you’re about it, you might as well tell the world about you too, what a ridiculous, pitiful, unwanted object you are.”

She threw up her hands to cover her face, to cover the dreadful grin. Then she ran to the bed and flung herself down on it, burying her face against the pillows, sobbing.

It had happened at last, in the way I had least expected, in the most humiliating way that it could have happened. To blame Ala would be pointless. She’d been pushed to her breaking point. This, I supposed, had seemed the only weapon left with which to defend herself. And Connie…? That, it seemed, was what life was always going to do to Connie, to smash her savagely in the jaw at the moment when she was least prepared for the blow.

She was still standing as she had been standing before. Her face still wore the same glacial dignity, but there was a difference, a deadening as if, behind the flawless facade, she was empty.

“Connie…” I began.

She turned away from me, the skirt of her long robe swirling around her. She went out of the room.

Ala was still sobbing. I crossed to the bed and patted her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I guess you had to say it.”

I found Connie in our room. She was sitting, as she always sat in the mornings, in front of her dressing table, in front of all the bottles and jars, brushing her hair. I moved toward her. I could see myself in the mirror, standing behind her reflected face. Mirrors, I thought. I was always seeing myself in mirrors… Eve and me, Connie and me—as if we had lost our reality and had become insubstantial. Perhaps it was because of the deceit, the enforced lies, the well-intended evasions, our constant refusal to admit reality existed. Now, knowing I had to face what I’d avoided for so long, I felt the pain, the jitters, but a sort of liberating relief as well.

“Connie,” I said, “I’d have given anything for it not to have happened this way.”

She went on brushing. The silver brush gleamed back and forth over the gleaming hair.

“Things usually come out eventually,” she said.

“We were going to wait. We had it all planned to wait until Ala was married and—and then to tell you and let you decide how you wanted it handled. Then this came, all the complications. Eve was ready to call it quits, to go away. She couldn’t face the scandal for you. She… Oh, God, I wish I could explain.”

For a moment Connie’s hand with the brush was still. She sat looking at her face in the mirror, examining it clinically, her eyes never moving the inch or so upward to meet my reflected eyes in the glass.

“I don’t see what you have to explain,” she said. “It’s nothing very unusual, is it? Thousands of husbands get tired of their wives after twelve years. Wives can be very dull.”

“It isn’t that,” I said. “You know it isn’t. You’re wonderful. Everyone knows how wonderful you are. It’s just that I’m not wonderful, I’m just not in your league, I’m just a guy with all the human failings that don’t come with a Corliss. And with Eve… well, it doesn’t matter. Eve’s nothing in particular either. She’s my league, I guess.”

“Then you definitely do want to marry her?”

Connie’s voice was as flat and impersonal as if she’d asked whether I’d definitely wanted to wear my gray mohair suit to the office that day. Her hand had started to hover over the jars. That so very familiar habit of uncertainty, coming together with the magnificent certainty of her self-control, suddenly made her human again, throwing me off balance, confusing everything.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, we want to get married.”

The long, beautiful hand selected a jar and unscrewed the cap.

“Then I hope you’ll be very happy.”

“Connie!” I said. “Connie, for God’s sake…”

She did turn then on the stool, the jar of cream in her hand. “What’s for God’s sake about it?”

“Can’t you see? We’ve driven ourselves crazy about this. And then, when I tell you, all you say is, ‘I hope you’ll be happy.’ ”

“I’m sorry. Isn’t that the right thing to say? There isn’t much else to say, is there? It isn’t exactly the moment to be discussing our marriage or rather our lack of marriage anyway, is it? With Chuck in jail? With Lieutenant Trant coming any minute?”

Her fingers went into the jar and came out smoothing the cream over her face. I watched the white mask smearing over her skin. Mirrors, masks—everything seemed to be symbolizing our predicament.

“Don’t tell him about Ala,” I said. “Please, Connie, don’t tell him.”

She looked at me squarely. “If all this comes out about Mrs. Lord, Lew isn’t going to like it, is he? You know how stuffy he is about scandal. He’s going to hit the ceding. You don’t suppose he’d fire you, do you?”

“Who knows?” I said. “Who cares?”

“Perhaps,” she said, rubbing the last of the cream in, “if I go to him and explain, that’ll help.”

“Help!” I said. “My God, do you think under the circumstances I expect help from you?”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” I was filled with rage, rage that came not just from that moment but from the years in which I’d refused to admit there was any cause for rage. “Do you want to supervise the divorce too? Do you want to turn it into another of your projects like this house, like Ala’s marriage, like taking Miss Taylor to the Philharmonic because you insist she’s so fond of music?”

She put down the jar. She got up. The iciness of her control had melted. She was watching me with a sort of tormented bewilderment.

“What is it? I don’t understand. You say you want a divorce. All right. I say you can have a divorce—and I hope you’ll be happy and if I can help with Lew I’ll help. What’s wrong with that? All I ever try to do is the right thing. It’s the same with Ala. I try to do the right thing—and what happens? She only hates me for it. And you… My projects, you say? My project of Ala’s marriage? Did you want me to leave her rotting in that Richmond jail? Or did you want me to call you in Brazil and scream for you to come and take over? Or—or to tell Chuck that my own daughter was a floozie when there was a good chance she’d simply got herself into a mess because she was young and silly? And what do you mean about this house? What’s wrong with this house? Didn’t you want to live in it? If you didn’t, why didn’t you tell me? If everything I do annoys you, why didn’t you let me know? I could have changed. If only you’d said what you wanted, I…”

Suddenly there was rage in her too. “I could change! What am I saying? I’ve changed already. I’ve changed all right and see how you like it—you and Ala. You’ve both of you always done everything you wanted to. That’s always been your philosophy. Go off, fall in love with your secretary, go off with any young man who gives you the opportunity. All right, let’s go, it’ll be a load of fun and if anything goes wrong, there’s always Connie to pick up the pieces. Well, all that’s changed now. You can take care of yourselves from now on. And if Ala thinks I’m going to pick up her pieces at the expense of Chuck…”

There was a knock at the door, a timid, tentative knock. Then the door opened and Ala came in. She was still in her pajamas. She closed the door behind her and took a step into the room, pausing on the edge of the carpet. The traces of tears were still on her face. She looked very small and taut.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s why I’ve come—to say I’m sorry. I—I don’t see how either of you can forgive me ever.” Her eyes moved to me. “And George, please tell Mrs. Lord how sorry I am too. I didn’t have any right to say that. I don’t even expect it’s true. Probably it was just some lie of Don’s.”

She paused a moment, then impulsively she turned to Connie.

“And that’s not all. There’s something else. Just now you called me rotten and you’re right. I can see now. I can see what a monster I’ve been to Chuck. When he thought he could help me by not talking, he risked his own neck just for me. And now… now when I could help him…” She made a little gesture with her hand. “It’s because I was scared. That’s all. It was because I was so terribly scared and I’m scared now. But that doesn’t matter. That’s what I want to say. When the Lieutenant comes, I’m going to tell him everything. And I won’t say anything about George and Mrs. Lord. I’ll say I went there alone. I can explain about the drink on the shirt just as well as George. It won’t make it any worse for me—and it’ll be easier for you.”

In the first second when she said that, I’d felt only incredulity, then, as I saw the determination on her face, the incredulity merged into a huge, warm pride. I had been right. Ala had the guts after all.

But she wasn’t looking at me. I wasn’t in this, I knew. This was something far more basic, something between Connie and her.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said, “because I know myself. I was afraid if I didn’t commit myself, I might get cold feet. But it’s all right now. I’m certain it is. And nothing anyone can say can change me. I’m going to tell and maybe, once I’ve told, I—I may feel a bit more worthy of Chuck. And maybe, once I’ve told, you—you won’t feel so bad about me either. I’m sorry, Connie. I don’t know why I’ve always been so beastly to you. You’ve done so much for me, protecting me, always protecting me. I don’t understand what’s been the matter with me, but… I’m sorry.”

When anyone looks back on his life, he can almost always find a moment about which he can say, “There it was. That was when I grew up.” And, as I watched Ala, the pride still blooming in me, I thought: It’s happened. In these last few minutes, Ala’s come of age. I glanced at Connie, hoping and praying she would be big enough to accept this for what it was. There was a look of wonderment on her face. For a moment she didn’t speak.

Then she said, “You really mean it? This is your decision?”

“It’s my decision.”

“You know what it involves?”

“Of course I know.”

Suddenly Connie’s face crumpled. She ran to Ala and took her in her arms.

“No,” she said. “Ala, Ala dear, I can’t let you. I can’t think how I ever suggested it. I was mad. I was half out of my mind with worry about Chuck. We’ll do something. We’ll find some other way.”

“There isn’t any other way,” said Ala. “Not for me. This is the only way I could ever have any respect for myself.”

“But, Ala baby…”

“Don’t worry, Connie. Please. I’ll be all right. Honest, I will.”

Ala’s arm was around Connie’s shoulder. She was looking at her with a serene, almost maternal watchfulness. Reversing everything I’d ever thought was possible between them, it was Ala who was comforting Connie. And, ironically, just at the moment when I’d made my final break from them, I felt what I hadn’t felt in years—the basic, deep-in-the-blood, deeper-even-than-reason-or-affection tie of the family.

We were all three of us waiting in the library when Trant arrived.

In the first instant he came across the threshold, I saw a glimpse of someone behind him, but all my attention was for Trant. As always, he was a little more himself than I’d remembered, a little taller, a little more self-effacing, a little more alarmingly priestlike. This time the familiar smile was almost a beam.

“Good morning,” he said. “For a change I think you’re going to be quite pleased to see me today.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Come on in,” he called. He stepped aside, and, as he did so, Chuck hurried into the room.