Читать книгу The Letter - Elizabeth Blackwell - Страница 7

Cassie

For someone who made a living asking tough questions, Cassie was terrified to come out and ask her aunt Nell the big one: Was my grandmother ever in love with someone else?

Aunt Nell was the family eccentric, a role she seemed to embrace and played up at every opportunity. Married three times, she’d reinvented herself with each husband. Starting off as a demure young housewife in the 1950s, she scandalized the family by getting divorced, moving to California and throwing herself into the women’s movement in the 1960s (a period Lydia dismissively referred to as “Nell’s preachy phase”). That was followed by her earth mother period, when she spent most of the mid-to late ’70s living off the land in a series of communes, eventually retiring to a rural village in northern Wisconsin, where she’d spent the past twenty years running a part-time bed-and-breakfast, animal shelter and artists’ cooperative.

Cassie saw Nell every few years on major family occasions—distant cousins’ weddings, Lydia and Henry’s fiftieth anniversary party, Cassie’s graduation from law school. But while Cassie loved her great-aunt, they didn’t have much of a personal bond. Cassie and Nell had never spent enough time together to have heart-to-heart conversations. In any case, Nell didn’t seem the most promising person to turn to for advice.

Still, Cassie’s curiosity was stronger than her embarrassment about digging around for family secrets. During a break between meetings at work, she called her aunt. After four rings, she heard the somber voice of Nell’s husband, Fedorov.

“Yes?”

Nell had met Fedorov through a group that raised money for Russian immigrants. He claimed to be a potter, although Lydia noted tartly that he spent far more time sitting on Nell’s front porch than in front of a kiln.

“I’ve never seen a man with a greater talent for doing nothing,” Lydia had said after meeting him for the first time. “He’s only marrying Nell for the green card—I don’t know why she can’t see that.”

Green card or not, Fedorov had lasted longer than any of Nell’s previous husbands—almost ten years—and despite his talent for doing nothing, he apparently knew how to make Nell happy. Whatever his charms, they were well hidden; Cassie had rarely seen him deviate from a state of low-level depression.

“Hi, it’s Cassie. Is Aunt Nell around?”

“No. She is with the animal rescue for today.”

“Well, could you tell her I called?” Cassie asked.

“Yes. Of course.”

Cassie tried to think of something else to say, but came up blank. Fedorov would probably be just as happy if she didn’t prolong their encounter.

She thanked him and hung up. Did he possess enough energy to write down the message? Cassie wasn’t sure. Even if Nell did get the message, she could be flighty. When she came to Cassie’s law school commencement ceremony, she seemed to think it was Cassie’s college graduation. Her memory of Lydia’s past might be similarly flawed.

Cassie’s computer pinged to indicate the arrival of a new e-mail message. Just what she needed. She hadn’t even had time to respond to the thirty-four messages waiting in her in box that morning. She glanced at the screen and saw that the sender was Jeffrey Gannon, one of the firm’s senior partners and head of the health-care group she worked for. Her boss.

C-

Need summary of major projects you’ve completed since starting with us. Top priority.

-JG

The terse tone wasn’t alarming in itself; Jeffrey always corresponded using the fewest words possible. But the request was odd. Why, when the health-care group was swamped with work, was she being asked to put together a glorified résumé?

Cassie picked up the phone and dialed the number for Jeffrey’s assistant, Marie, the one person guaranteed to know everything going on at the firm.

“Hey, Cassie.”

“Hi,” Cassie said. “Listen, I just got this weird request from Jeffrey to put together some kind of summary of all the work I’ve done in the last three years. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not really,” said Marie. “He didn’t mention it to me, anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Well—but I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with you…” Marie’s voice trailed off.

“What?” Cassie asked.

“First thing this morning, he got a call from Lowell—” the firm’s managing partner “—and after that he was putting through a lot of calls to the other senior partners. And here’s the weirdest part. Guess who else called? Milton Greiber from Lofton & Treadwell.”

Lofton & Treadwell. The firm’s biggest competitor in health-care law.

“Something’s definitely up,” Cassie said.

“Listen, you didn’t hear this from me,” said Marie.

Cassie nodded. “I just want to protect myself, you know, in case.” Marie had once told Cassie she was the only lawyer at the firm who treated her as a friend rather than a servant. Cassie hadn’t planned to make an ally of Marie—she genuinely liked her—but she saw now that this personal connection was paying off. She’d just gotten a heads-up on some potentially life-altering news.

Two rival law firms talking could mean only one thing: merger. And mergers meant consolidation, which meant layoffs.

Was her job in jeopardy?

Cassie’s computer pinged again—a message from Cooper.

Can you get away tonight? Got us a 7 pm meeting at the Drake Hotel to discuss the reception. Also, got a great story about Jess and Pedro when you need a laugh. I’ll be in the office between 2 and 3 if you want to talk.

Cassie shook her head in irritation. She didn’t have time to discuss the latest interoffice-romance scandal at Cooper’s office, let alone wedding reception venues. Her job—the center of her life, her identity—might be in jeopardy. That had to be her top priority.

She typed a quick response:

No can do tonight. Sorry. Nightmare at work as usual. Can you go it alone?

She pressed Send, then thought about how to respond to Jeffrey. Asking for a summary of her work might be a good sign. Maybe it meant he was trying to protect her job. They had a friendly working relationship, but he was still the boss. Would he tell her the truth if she asked?

Ping. Another e-mail from Jeffrey arrived in her in box.

Go what alone? If you can’t get me the summary by tonight, try for tomorrow a. m.

p. s. Nightmares at work are no excuse. Part of the job.

Cassie frantically clicked on her sent mail folder. Sure enough, the response she’d intended for Cooper had gone to Jeffrey instead. Great. Just when she was supposed to be burnishing her professional reputation, she’d sent a personal message to her boss.

Quickly, she responded to Jeffrey, double-checking the return address carefully.

My mistake. Meant to send that message to Cooper explaining why I’d be spending my evening at work yet again. As you said, nightmares are business as usual. Will be happy to get you that work summary by the end of the day. No problem.

It was, in fact, a huge problem. How was she supposed to work on this self-promoting document when she had back-to-back meetings scheduled well past five? She’d hoped to take a half-hour lunch break to visit a nearby bridal salon, but that plan was shot now. All so she could justify keeping a job she already had.

Cassie dialed Cooper’s cell phone. It went immediately to voice mail.

“Hey there,” Cassie said. “Got your e-mail. I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it to the Drake today. Horrible day at work, and something big is up—I’ll tell you later, but I don’t think it’s good. Anyway, I’ve got to stay late and prove myself. Can you go to the meeting anyway? You can tell me all about it tonight. Thanks.”

She hung up, then considered calling back and saying something nice. Didn’t most women end conversations with their fiancés by saying, “I love you” or, “Can’t wait to see you”? But Cassie was in business mode and it simply hadn’t occurred to her.

She typed a quick message.

Just left you a voice mail. Forgot to say I love you. See you later.

Cassie hit Send and watched the words I love you disappear from her screen. She tried to remember the last time she’d said them out loud.

Arriving home that night around ten, Cassie kept running certain images through her mind—the way two of the firm’s partners had stopped talking when she’d walked by the front desk to pick up a package. Jeffrey’s over-casual thanks when she’d delivered a ten-page summary of her professional accomplishments. The sight of Lowell, the firm’s managing partner, at the photocopy machines, doing work that was usually delegated to the lowliest paralegals.

Still, as Cassie strolled through the sleek, unfurnished lobby of her condo building, she was determined to leave work at the office for once. Talk to Cooper, try to work up some enthusiasm for the wedding planning that he’d taken on alone. They hadn’t even picked a date yet, but the big venues filled up a year or more in advance, so they’d decided to start looking. But so far Cooper had been the only one to do anything.

Cassie opened the door to the apartment and was greeted by darkness. Walking down the hall, she came to the living room, lit by a small table lamp. Had Cooper gone back to the office after his meeting at the Drake? It wouldn’t be the first time. But no—she’d spotted his briefcase sitting by the front door, where he usually kept it. His wallet was on the front hall table.

Cassie glanced toward the bedroom and saw that the door was closed. A note was taped to the front.

Sorry I missed you. Have to get up at 5 a.m. for flight to London, so I went to bed early. Leave a note if you want me to wake you up before I go. Otherwise, see you Saturday.

The London trip. She’d forgotten all about it. It was the reason he’d scheduled the Drake tour for tonight, because it was the only time he’d have available until the following week. And she’d completely forgotten.

Leave a note if you want me to wake you up.

It seemed fitting, given that was how they seemed to communicate these days.

Cassie walked back down the hall to the living room, took off her shoes and tossed them on the floor. Another piece of paper was sitting in front of the answering machine.

Aunt Nell called. Said you can call her late.

Was ten o’clock too late for a seventysomething woman? Cassie wasn’t sure. But she knew she couldn’t sleep, so it was worth a try.

Aunt Nell picked up the phone on the second ring, her voice as cheery as if it were midafternoon.

“Hello?”

“Aunt Nell, it’s Cassie. Am I calling too late?”

“’Course not. I make a point of not going to bed before midnight. Don’t want to become a boring old lady.”

“I don’t think anyone will ever say that about you,” Cassie said.

Nell’s hearty laugh echoed through the receiver. Lydia might see her sister as flighty and unpredictable, but Nell clearly enjoyed life. Cassie found herself wishing she’d taken more time to get to know her. What must it be like to go through life with happiness as your default setting?

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Nell said. “When’s the big day?”

“We’re still working on that,” Cassie said. “You know how it is—work schedules. It’s really hard to find a time that’s good for both of us.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had a real work schedule in my life!” Nell said. “I do admire you, though. Lydia’s always bursting with pride when she talks about you.”

“Listen, I was actually calling about Grandma,” Cassie said, anxious to get to the point before she lost her nerve. “A weird thing happened yesterday. I was at her house for lunch, and I went to the basement to look at some fabric—well, the background isn’t really important, but I found this letter. A love letter.”

“Hmm.”

“The thing is, I don’t think my grandfather wrote it.”

“Then who was it from?” Nell asked.

“I don’t know. Someone with the initials F.B.”

Cassie waited in silence for a moment.

“Doesn’t mean anything to me,” Nell said. “Do you know when it was written?”

“No, there’s no date. Could it be someone in Knox Junction, someone she knew when she was younger?”

“As far as I know, she didn’t date anyone else before marrying Henry,” Nell said. “And I don’t see…” Her voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Well, from everything I’ve seen and heard, Henry is the love of my sister’s life. I don’t use that term lightly. Believe me, I thought I was in love many, many times, and most every time it ended in disaster. I’m sure Lydia’s taken great pleasure in telling you about all my mistakes!” Nell laughed, but Cassie heard the hurt lurking behind it, the dig at an older sister who would never stop judging her.

“But Lydia and Henry—they were the golden couple,” Nell continued. “The ones you knew would get married and live happily ever after. I never suspected there was anyone else.”

“I know,” Cassie said. “That’s why I’m so confused. I’m not sure why—this letter really shook me up.”

“Have you asked Lydia about it?”

“Well, I tried to. Sort of. I think she guessed I found it, and then she acted all distant and changed the subject. You know how she gets.”

“Not much for sharing her feelings?” said Nell. “I remember dragging her to a consciousness-raising retreat sometime in ’71, ’72. A complete disaster—but I’ll tell you about that another time.”

“This F.B.,” Cassie told her, “whoever he was, said something about Lydia creating a new life for herself and moving on. So I took that to be a reference to her maybe getting married.”

“Unless she was a truly gifted actress, I don’t see how she could’ve juggled Henry and someone else,” said Nell. “They started dating when she was sixteen or so and as far as I could see, they were made for each other. But I suppose you already know the whole story.”

“The basics,” Cassie said. The way Lydia told it, it was as if she’d met Henry, connected instantly and decided to get married—case closed. Was the truth more complicated?

“They started dating in high school, right?” Cassie asked.

“I don’t know exactly when,” Nell said. “I was three years younger, so Lydia never confided in me. From what I understand, they were friends first. Lydia didn’t know too many people, you see. She always kept to herself. When we first moved to Knox Junction, I think she was very unhappy. All of us were. But being younger, I suppose I adjusted faster. I made friends far more easily than Lydia.”

“Why did your father move there?” Cassie asked. “It seems like a strange transition, to go from an upscale suburb like Winnetka to a small farm town.”

“It had to do with my father’s job.” Nell paused. “Something had gone wrong in Winnetka, although I couldn’t tell you what. Mother was furious at Father, that was obvious, but she’d never discuss it with us. She’d very set ideas about what was proper. It’s no wonder I rebelled!”

“So,” Cassie went on, “you were saying Grandma kept to herself after the move.”

“Yes. She was such a loner, always reading or drawing or painting. She lived in her head, and there weren’t many people like that in Knox Junction. One was expected to be hearty and love the land and come from good farmer stock. The children at school thought she was strange, the way she’d spend recess with her nose in a book.

“But for some reason, Henry found Lydia intriguing. Maybe because she was so different from everyone else. By Lydia’s sophomore or junior year he’d started coming ’round the house. Lydia never invited guests over—her only friend, as far as I can recall, was a girl named Melanie. Sweet but fairly stupid, if I may be brutally honest. So for her to bring a boy over—I can’t even explain how shocking that was. Boys and girls just weren’t friends the way they are now, you see. If a girl brought a boy home, it meant something.”

“Could she have dated someone else, too?” Cassie asked.

“I can’t imagine there was any other boy in that school who would’ve appreciated her, let alone fallen madly in love with her,” Nell said. “And then, with my parents or me always chaperoning, I don’t see how she would have found the opportunity.”

“You spent a lot of time with them?”

“Oh, yes,” said Nell. “It was understood that Lydia and Henry should never be in the house alone. I’d sit with them at the dining table after school, and we’d all do homework together. Or they’d sit on the front porch while I helped Mother in the front garden. They were often together, but it was never what you’d call romantic. Not in the stereotypical sense.”

“No holding hands on the porch swing?”

“Definitely not,” Nell said with a laugh. “Although now that you mention it—Hmm, I’m remembering something I haven’t thought of in years. There was this one afternoon…must’ve been spring, because Mother’s flowers were all blooming and Lydia was painting them. We spent the summers up in Lake Geneva with Mother’s family, so it couldn’t have been much later than early June. The weather was lovely, and Lydia had set up her easel on the front porch. She was sitting on a wicker love seat and Henry sat next to her, watching her work. I was sprawled out on the steps, reading Nancy Drew—I remember being obsessed with those books at that age, twelve or thirteen.

“It was peaceful, the three of us there. What struck me was the way Henry sat with Lydia. He didn’t talk, or interrupt her work, or try to make conversation to cover up the silence. So many boys in that town—well, they were loud. Loved to draw attention to themselves. But Henry was content to sit and watch Lydia for hours. At the time, I wondered how he could stand doing something so boring. It was only years later that I realized I’d witnessed real love—he was content to share whatever made her happy. I think I’ve been searching for that most of my life.”

Cassie had always told herself the bond she had with Cooper was based on their shared passion for the law and hard work. But now she saw the difference—she and Cooper liked to do the same things but rarely did them together. Their work kept them in separate orbits. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Cooper had sat together for hours, sharing silent moments of companionship. Had they ever?

“It was all very small-town America,” Nell said. “Henry would pick up Lydia for a school dance. Bring her flowers or a corsage. They always went with friends, of course—Mother would never have let Lydia drive around with Henry alone.”

“Sounds like your parents were very strict.”

“No more so than any other parents in town,” Nell said. “It just wasn’t done for a girl to spend time alone with a boy, dating or not. Perhaps especially if they were dating. And then, because it was Henry, they were even more careful.”

“Why?” Cassie asked. Surely most parents would see a nice boy like Henry as a dream companion for their daughter.

“Oh, they couldn’t stand him!”

“Really? Grandma never told me that.”

“Maybe she’s glossed it over in her mind. But I remember it all well enough. Father—well, he might not have cared so much. But Mother would mutter under her breath in the kitchen, ‘I see our friend is back.’ Lydia would only refer to Henry as her ‘friend,’ you see, never boyfriend. But Mother knew. She could see the look in his eyes when he was around Lydia. I liked him—he was always kind to me. And then, I always felt rather sorry for him, with what his family went through.”

“You mean his brother?” Cassie asked. She knew her grandfather’s older brother had died in World War II. His name was carved on a war memorial outside the Knox Junction library, along with those of several other local men who’d been killed in action.

“Yes. When he died, that family fell apart. I know Father checked on Henry’s mother a few times, and he said she’d never recover. I don’t think her nerves were particularly strong to begin with, and then to have that happen…Timothy was clearly the favorite. So for Henry to be left—I can’t imagine what that was like for him.”

“But if he’d been through something so tragic, why wasn’t your mother nice to him?”

“I asked myself the same question, many times,” Nell said. “It was only later, during all the disagreements about Lydia’s schooling, that I recognized what was really going on. Mother and Father saw Knox Junction as a temporary interruption in their lives. They hadn’t intended to settle there permanently. It was understood that Lydia and I would leave when it came time for college and go somewhere prestigious. Most of the people in Knox Junction—people like Henry’s parents—didn’t have a college education. They finished high school, got married soon after and went to work on the farm. That was the pattern.”

But Lydia and Henry hadn’t gotten married after high school, Cassie knew. They’d both gone to college, in separate parts of the country. Had they wanted to escape Knox Junction? If so, it hadn’t lasted long; after their year in Europe, they’d moved right back to town. And now they lived in the house Lydia’s parents had planned to move away from but never had. Every day, Henry walked on that front porch where he’d first courted his future wife. Did he ever picture their teenage selves out there, painting and staring at the setting sun? Cassie tried to imagine them as shy young teenagers, but she couldn’t quite manage it. She couldn’t picture her grandmother, in particular, as a girl, unsure of herself and her future.

“Did your parents send Grandma to school in New York to keep her away from Grandpa?” Cassie asked.

“Oh, art school wasn’t their idea!” Nell said. “My parents saw it as a terrible waste. But Lydia got her way eventually, and I’m sure they were happy enough to get her away from Henry.”

“But they dated all through college, didn’t they?” Cassie asked.

“I assume so, although they didn’t see each other often. You have to understand, young people then didn’t jet across the country at the drop of a hat like you do. Lydia took the train home once a year, at Christmas. That was the only time we saw her. During the summers, she stayed in New York and worked so she could help with the tuition. I always assumed she and Henry had an understanding.”

“You mean they were engaged?”

“Oh, not exactly,” said Nell. “She didn’t wear a ring or anything like that. It’s just—well, I simply knew she’d marry Henry. Not that I wasn’t surprised when they came home from Europe as Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong! I suspect they eloped to avoid any family awkwardness. But as much as Mother didn’t want to see Lydia married to the local farmer’s son, I know she felt cheated out of the experience of planning a wedding. She meddled far too much in mine a few years later to make up for it!”

“I always thought it was so romantic, getting married in France,” Cassie said.

“Well, she was there for that study-abroad program. They had some sort of fight before she left—I’m sure he didn’t want her to leave, and Lydia made her grand statement by going off anyway—but it was only a temporary spat. Henry went over there and swept her off her feet and that was that. It was during my freshman year at Northwestern and I was quite resentful that Lydia’s drama completely overshadowed my first year of college!”

Something Nell said stuck in Cassie’s mind.

“That would have been Grandma’s senior year, right?” Cassie asked. “Don’t students usually spend their junior year abroad?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Nell. “Perhaps art schools do things differently.”

Cassie thought back to the letter. The lines about Lydia leaving suddenly, unexpectedly. Creating a new life. Words that might have been written after Lydia sailed off to Europe. Or perhaps the answer lay farther away, during those months Lydia lived on her own in France.

“Are you sure she never dated anyone else in college?” Cassie asked.

“She never mentioned it,” Nell replied. But now her voice sounded doubtful. “I suppose she could have. But why keep in contact with Henry all that time? Surely she would have broken it off with him?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie yawned. Almost eleven o’clock. Only a few more hours until Cooper left for London. She should get up to see him off, but right now, sleep was far more tempting.

“I’m sorry I don’t have all the answers,” Nell said. “But honestly, Cassie, does it really matter? Whoever this letter was from, it was written a long time ago. We all like to keep things around for sentimental reasons. It may not mean anything.”

Cassie pictured her grandparents as she’d seen them so often over the years: sitting companionably at the dining room table after breakfast, one glancing up over a section of newspaper to start a sentence that the other quickly finished. Whatever had happened in the past, Lydia and Henry now shared an unbreakable bond. Any romance might have long since faded from their lives, but Cassie had no doubt they were happy together.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t know why I got so obsessed with it.”

“We all have our secrets,” Nell told her. “If I ever have the courage to write my memoirs, then you’ll get some real stories.”

“I’d love to read your memoirs,” Cassie said. “And thank you—I mean it.”

“It’s been a joy,” Nell said. “Do call more often, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will.”

After hanging up, Cassie tiptoed into the bedroom, passing Cooper’s snoring body on her way to the bathroom. She stopped for a moment, struck by the way his arms were flung haphazardly above his head, the way one knee protruded from the top of the comforter. Awake Cooper always stayed firmly in control, priding himself on remaining cool under pressure. It was one of the qualities she admired most about him. But now, seeing him so unguarded and loose, like a little boy, she was hit by an unexpected wave of tenderness.

As Cassie brushed her teeth, she thought about her grandparents at lunch the day before, comfortable in their shared silences, practically reading each other’s minds. What would it be like to have that kind of history with someone? To be with a person who’d known you through all the stages of your life? She’d spent ten years with Cooper, which had once seemed like an eternity. They had grown from teenagers into adults together. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she still didn’t know him. Had he really shed the shyness that had been so obvious during their freshman year of college, or had he merely covered it up? Did he ever long to simply be the way he was now, relaxed and unguarded, without worrying about the next step on the corporate ladder? And if he did let his guard slip, would she even recognize him?

Cassie had always considered herself lucky that she’d met her soul mate—thereby avoiding the dating disasters of her friends—but now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps dating other people would have given her more perspective on how a relationship worked. Instead, like her grandmother, she was marrying the first boy she’d ever fallen for. Aunt Nell seemed convinced that Lydia had never dated anyone other than Henry. But the more Cassie thought about it, the more she felt that the secret of the letter lay buried in Lydia’s college years. Far from putting Cassie at peace, her conversation with Aunt Nell had only raised more questions.