The Last Princess (44 page)

Opening her eyes, she nodded. “I think you’re probably right. It would be a good idea.”

“Would you like me to take care of it?”

Lily stared at him in surprise. Harry? Taking the responsibility for something like this?

He continued. “I thought I could call your old school. They might be willing to grant late admission for Melissa since she’s the daughter of an alumna.”

“You’ll take care of it?” she asked in wonder.

“Of course,” said Harry. “Don’t tell me, I know. I’ve never been very involved as a father. This is too little, too late.”

“I wasn’t being critical. Believe me, I don’t consider myself an ideal parent either.”

After a long moment’s silence, she asked, “Would you like some more coffee?”

They could have been a pair of polite strangers, Harry thought. There was neither warmth nor coldness nor anger. What emotion she had was clearly reserved for the children.

But here, in the cozy little living room where the first act of their life together had been played out, Harry could not keep the vivid memories from flooding over him. Suddenly he wished for nothing more than a second chance, the opportunity to do it all over again. He realized deep down that he would only make the same mistakes all over again. It was impossible for him to defy his nature, the burning ambition that was inextricably a part of his being. He had been so driven, so relentless, so determined to show his family.

Be careful of what you wish for—you just might get it.
Ah God, the price had been terrible.

H
AUNTING IMAGES STAYED
with Harry as he drove back to Manhattan that afternoon, and they stayed with him for weeks to come. As time passed, he began to feel a lonely ache he had never felt before. Gradually he came to see the truth that should have been obvious to him all along: The reason he had resented Lily’s seeming neglect was simply that he loved her so much.

And so Harry found himself in a terrible dilemma. He had thought he had fallen deeply in love with Kate; she had been a breath of fresh air, a relief from his problems with Lily, and most of all, she reveled in the literary world over which he reigned.

But in truth, their affair had been born of his anger. There was love between them, of a kind—but it was not the kind of feeling that shook him to the core of his being. It was impossible for him to explain. Lily was simply a part of him.

And as he began to long for her more and more, he became uncomfortably aware that he was cheating Kate, for he could no longer speak the words of love she expected. It was impossible to tell her, but it was equally impossible to hide from her his mental torment.

One night, after he had tried to make love to her and failed, she sat up abruptly and announced, “We are never going to make it, Harry, until we get Lily out of our bed.”

Harry flung back the covers, got out of bed, and paced the room, smoking a cigarette. “God damn it, Kate! Do you think it’s that easy to give up a marriage?”

“Then why did you leave her if you care so much about her?”

“Because she deserves better,” he said bitterly.

“Is that why? Funny, I thought that it was because you loved me.”

The edge in her voice suddenly penetrated his self-absorption, and he turned to her repentantly. “I’m sorry, Kate, darling. I do care for you, I do.”

She held out her arms. “Then come back to bed, darling, and let me love you.”

But it was a difficult coming together, which left neither of them satisfied. The two of them lay awake the rest of the night.

The next morning they sat at breakfast without speaking. Finally Harry broke the silence. “Kate—there’s something I have to tell you, and it’s not easy—”

“Don’t,” she said, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t.”

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I already know—I knew last night. It’s not going to happen for us, is it?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry—so very sorry.”

Kate turned away, fighting back the tears. Six months was all it had lasted, and she had planned for a lifetime.

That day he moved his things to a hotel, cursing himself for the sadness he saw in Kate’s eyes, but confident his decision was the right one.

For the next week, he underwent a soul-searching such as he had never known, going back over the entire course of his life with Lily—and the more he pondered it, the more he came to see their marriage through her eyes. He had been blind and selfish. He could have restrained his ambition, tempered it with a deeper commitment to the woman he professed to love. How unfair he had been, expecting her to applaud his writer’s life when it was the very thing that took virtually all of his time. He had lost sight of her needs, forgotten that the forlorn child who still dwelt inside the woman needed his love and deserved it.

It was a chastened man who sat in his hotel room, looking out at the streets below and seeing his failure as a family man. Night after night, the level of the Scotch in the bottle sank while he smoked cigarette after cigarette, desperately casting about for some magic way to turn back the clock.

But in the end it all came down to Lily. He knew that she had been deeply hurt by his betrayal. Her love for him seemed to have evaporated. Could he have expected anything less? If Lily had seemed distant, it was he who had pushed her away. Her calm was almost unnatural. He would even have preferred to see her angry. If she was angry, it would have proved she still cared.

But despite his misgivings, he had to make an attempt to bridge the gulf between them before they became irrevocably split.

He called Lily early one morning. After the preliminary hellos, he gathered his courage and asked, “Lily, do you think I might come up to the farm and see you again?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” came the discouraging reply. “What would be the point?”

“I’d just like to spend some time with you, that’s all.”

“I don’t think so, Harry. We had over twenty years together. I think all we had to say to each other has already been said.”

In desperation, he cried, “Lily, can’t we try once again? I made a lot of mistakes in our marriage, and our problems have been mainly due to me—I see that now. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me? I’ll do my best—”

“It’s not a question of forgiveness, Harry. There’s just nothing between us anymore. No love, no affection, not even respect.”

“How can you say that, Lily, after all the years we had together?”

“Yes, well, you had all those years to make it work and it didn’t. Now it’s just too late.”

“Lily, I’ve given up Kate Hathaway. It was all a mistake, and I’m never going to see her again.”

But the mention of Kate only made Lily’s voice grow colder. “You needn’t have given her up for me.”

Harry tried to speak, but she cut him off. “Harry, I don’t want to talk about it. The issue is closed.”

After he hung up, he buried his face in his hands and wept.

Meanwhile, another man was thinking about Lily, wondering what was in her heart. The morning she’d left his apartment, Ellis had called and learned from Mary that Lily had gone back to the farm.

It awakened a strange sense of déjà vu in him. He remembered all too well Lily’s previous sojourn there, after Jeremy’s death, when she had sunk so low. But he hoped that this time would be different. Somehow divorce was not as tragic as the death of a child. Perhaps Lily would soon bounce back.

For some weeks, he indulged the hope that she would call and ask to see him. But finally he began to realize that with her brief note she truly did intend to cut off contact.

It pained him to consider Lily’s rejection, but he tried to put himself in her shoes. She had just undergone the humiliation of finding her husband unfaithful. The injury to her self-esteem would hardly put her in a position to open up to any man again, let alone fall in love.

One Sunday morning, some two months after Lily had left the city, Ellis sat on his terrace, moodily sipping the coffee his valet had brought out along with the Sunday Times. It was a while before he realized he had read the same headlines six times without taking in the sense of them.

It was no use pretending. Lily preyed upon his mind during virtually all his waking and sleeping hours. He could not escape a gnawing sense of regret over how he’d handled things between them—and how he was handling them now. Ellis had let his pride keep him from her these months. Lily needed a friend now more than ever. How could he keep himself away simply because he couldn’t fit into her life the way he would have liked? Whom did she have to turn to, save him?

Ellis had decided: He couldn’t go on nursing this sense of injury. Lily needed him, and he was going to help her—whether she wanted it or not. That very morning, he showered, shaved, and dressed, and within half an hour he was on the familiar road to the farm.

He saw Lily from a distance in the orchard. She was standing near an apricot tree. Advancing quietly, he stopped some distance behind her and spoke her name softly. “Lily?”

Lily spun around. “Ellis? Is it you?”

“Yes, I’m not a ghost.”

No, he was no ghost, but the minute he saw her, he feared Lily was. She was as skeletal as she had been just after Jeremy’s death. She looked so fragile, more vulnerable than she’d ever seemed before.

He had to fight the urge to run to her and gather her in his arms. She would never permit it; he could sense her reserve.

Instead, he said as calmly as he could manage, “It’s good to see you.”

She nodded hesitantly. Ellis could tell she’d not gotten over the revelations of their last meeting. He felt he should address her apprehension.

“Lily, I’m not going to bring up what happened that night. We were both emotional, for obvious reasons, and perhaps said some things we didn’t intend to. Can we just pretend that none of it happened, and go back to being the friends we were?”

Lily flushed, but she nodded. She was silently grateful he had spoken so directly.

“Okay,” he continued, “that’s settled. Now, tell me how you’ve been feeling.”

“Oh, not good, not bad. Just kind of nothing.”

Ellis frowned, glancing around the orchard. “I think that a change might do you good. How about if we go for a picnic?”

Lily was clearly startled by the suggestion.

“I know—we went for a picnic once before. And it did you wonders, didn’t it?”

“Yes, I guess so,” she mused, “but then again, all that happened was that I went back to Harry, and look how that turned out.”

Ellis said nothing. Lily added, “It’s nice of you to try to cheer me up, Ellis, but I just don’t feel up to anything. But thank you for coming.”

“That sounds like a dismissal.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I really am … I’m just so tired….”

Ellis hesitated, then tried once more. “Are you too tired to give me a cup of coffee before I start back to the city?”

She managed a weak smile. “Of course not. Come on into the house.”

Secretly, Ellis was elated. At least she was losing her sense of awkwardness around him. That was a step in the right direction.

Mrs. Gallagher had gone to the village to do the marketing, so Lily made the coffee and found some freshly baked coffee cake.

As they sat in the living room, Ellis tried again to find out what Lily had been up to. “So tell me, how do you amuse yourself out here?”

“I feed the chickens, listen to the radio, help Mrs. Gallagher in the kitchen sometimes.”

The flat, expressionless words stirred Ellis’s anger. For a woman like Lily to be reduced to this state!

“And that’s it? That’s how Lily Goodhue Kohle, former toast of Paris and New York, fills her days?”

Ellis’s sarcasm offended Lily. What business was it of his—or anyone else’s—how she spent her time? She was through with having others always telling her what she should do, how she should think or feel. Jumping to her feet, she blazed angrily, “It’s none of your damned business! Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

Inwardly Ellis rejoiced at her response. Anything was better than that terrible blankness.

Deliberately, he goaded her. “Why are you sore, Lily? Is your way of life out here so wonderful that you simply can’t explain it to anyone else?”

“Yes!” she cried defiantly. “Yes, it’s just fine.”

“Is that why you have those dark circles under your eyes, from all this wonderful country air? Tell me, how many hours do you sleep at night?”

The question staggered her. Ellis had hit upon the thing which tortured her most: Sleep eluded her. Nights, she would walk and walk, hoping the exercise would tire her. But it never seemed to help. Every night found her agonizing over past events—some long ago, others recent—which had so changed her life.

Tears began to stream down her face. “Go away, Ellis!” she sobbed. “Please—just go away.”

Ellis could control himself no longer. He gathered her into her arms and stroked her gently while her body shook with sobs. He said nothing, knowing that this storm of emotion was long overdue.

Lily soon regained control of herself.

“Here,” said Ellis, handing her his handkerchief. “Dry your eyes.”

She stared at him numbly. “I just don’t know what to do. I built my entire world around Harry. Now, with him gone, I feel so alone. And I don’t have the slightest idea in the world what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

“Lily, are you trying to tell me that Harry Kohle was your entire reason for being? That without him you’re nothing? That’s absurd, and you know it. You’re just frightened and not, I must say, with particularly good reason.”

“You’re right—everything does seem frightening to me at this point. But it’s more than that. It’s just that I feel no one in the world needs me. And it’s true, Ellis. No one does.”

“Lots of people need you, if you only knew it. I need you.” Ellis’s voice became husky. He sighed. “Lily, listen. We have to get this straight between us. That night when I told you how I felt about you, I did mean it, every word of it. You don’t know how tempted I was by your offer. But the circumstances were just so hopelessly wrong. I know that we both did the right thing by drawing back, but I refuse to let you turn me away. I need your friendship, your companionship in my life as much as—I think—you need mine. There are no strings on my love for you. I love you unconditionally. I always will. And I want you to know it. I don’t expect any return from you—especially now. But I’ll always be there for you. I’ve been a fool to stay away.”