by Cathy Gohlke
“I won’t go with you.”
“Please, Lilliana, don’t make a scene. No more scenes. We’ll go for a drive. We can talk things out in private.” The charm thinned.
“I don’t want to talk. I won’t be alone with you. I heard what you and my father were planning. I heard you that night in the church—after Mama’s funeral.”
Gerald’s jaw tightened, but he pressed on. “I don’t know what you heard or think you heard. You disappeared after your mother’s funeral. What was I to think? I understand you were upset, distraught, that you might have imagined things that simply weren’t so. Your father and I’ve been looking for you day and night ever since.”
“And you’ve only just found me. After all these weeks.” She clearly didn’t believe him.
“Come home. We can work out whatever it is that has you worried. We’ll get you whatever help you need. I promise.”
But Lilliana stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m not the one who needs help.”
Jesse thought that if she could disappear into the woodwork, she would. He didn’t understand. She looked at her husband with eyes of terror, as if he was a monster, but he didn’t seem like a monster—just a very concerned, possibly controlling man looking for his wife. Although something about his story, about the elapsed time frame, didn’t add up, and Jesse had never thought of Grace—or Lilliana—as troubled, at least not in an unstable way. If this was indeed the man who’d so upset Miz Hyacinth on the telephone, there must be more to the story than he portrayed.
“Why are you here now—in this man’s house?” Gerald changed from the concerned spouse to the injured party. He glanced from Lilliana to Jesse and back. “Have the two of you been living here—together—all this time?”
Ida Mae went bug-eyed. She looked as if she might speak but forcibly closed her mouth.
“Grace—Lilliana lives with her aunt. I believe you know that, Mr. Swope,” Jesse said firmly. “You said you were on your way there to see her.”
“Then why is she here with you now, after dark?” He turned to Lilliana. “Why did Hyacinth Belvidere tell me that you were not living with her?”
“I came to say goodbye and to ask Reverend Willard to look in on Aunt Hyacinth after I’d gone.” Lilliana drew a deep breath as if relieved she’d finally gotten out her real purpose for coming. “But now I know. I’m not going back with you, Gerald. I won’t leave Aunt Hyacinth. She’s not well—and I’m not going with you.”
Jesse saw that it took every ounce of courage Lilliana could muster to deliver that speech, but her husband dismissed it.
“I’m sure your aunt doesn’t expect you to stay with her rather than return to your own home, to your own husband.”
“Aunt Hyacinth’s not the reason I won’t go with you—”
“Unless there’s more going on here than you’re telling me. Unless this has little to do with your aunt.” He looked pointedly at Jesse.
“Don’t misrepresent what you see here, Mr. Swope. That’s an insult to your wife and to me.” Jesse’s inner conflict was his own. He didn’t want it to cloud the situation.
“If that’s true, then there’s no reason we should delay. Come with me now, Lilliana. We may just as well head home tonight.” Gerald grasped her by the arm, directing her toward the door.
“Let go!” But he didn’t seem inclined. She jerked away, digging her fingernails into the hand that had gripped her arm so tightly.
The flare in Gerald’s eyes showed a different man—a flare he quickly got under control. “What’s got into you?” He made a production of pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wrap his hand—a hand that Jesse noticed wasn’t bleeding, but that Ida Mae was all too willing to help him tie the makeshift bandage around.
“Really, Lilliana—or Grace—or whatever name you go by. Resorting to violence!” Ida Mae shook her head. “He’s your husband, after all.”
“That’s enough!” Jesse saw it all falling to pieces.
“You’re trying to turn the tables—like always. I won’t give in to you anymore. I’m done, Gerald. I’ve done nothing wrong and you can’t pretend I have.” Lilliana stood back, further yet, though unsteadily, Jesse saw.
“Nothing wrong!” Gerald half laughed, looking around the room as if seeing in its meager and threadbare offerings things that no one else saw.
Something in his laugh reminded Jesse of one of Dickens’s villains. Fagin, is it? Or worse, Bill Sikes?
“Besides falsifying your name, did you forget to mention here that you’re already married—seven years, to an elder in your own church?” Gerald watched her until the silence in the room became more uncomfortable than the voices. “I imagine, Reverend Willard, you believe yourself her needed protector. Is that what she’s told you? Lilliana doesn’t need you. She has a husband, a husband whose patience has been sorely tested.” He shook his head, now nearly pleading. “Lilliana, I can see you believe yourself injured. Whatever it is, can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me and come home, give us another chance?”
“I told you I won’t go with you. I will not go with you—ever again.” Lilliana repeated her words as if the repeating gave her needed courage to stand by them.
“Hard-hearted, willful,” Ida Mae mumbled, shaking her head with her hand against her cheek. She took a seat in a straight-backed chair near the door.
Gerald sat down heavily on the settee Lilliana had abandoned, a look of abject sorrow on his face. “You can’t be serious . . . after all these years. We’re married. You know I love you.”
Lilliana didn’t speak but edged toward the window, her back to the wall.
“Perhaps we should end this for tonight. Let’s everyone go home and get some sleep and see how things look in the morning.” Jesse didn’t know what else to suggest. It looked as if the stalemate could go on a long time.
“Maybe so,” Gerald sighed. “At least that will give me a chance to meet Hyacinth, talk things over as a family.”
“Leave Aunt Hyacinth out of this. Her heart can’t take—”
“Your aunt surely won’t turn me out of my wife’s bed—our family’s home!” Gerald stood up. “There’s a limit, Lilliana.”
“You said you wanted a divorce. You told my father. You can have it—or a permanent separation—anything. Just stay away. Leave me alone.” The hurt and fear and resolve in Lilliana’s eyes nearly undid Jesse.
“Divorce?” Ida Mae gasped.
Lilliana’s cheeks burned bright.
“Lilliana.” Gerald spoke softly, walking close to her. “You’re overwrought. You don’t know what you’re saying. This is our marriage we’re talking about. Tomorrow we’ll go home. If you believe you have a grievance, we can take it before our church if that’s what you want. Let them judge.”
“Our church!” Lilliana laughed in disbelief.
“That’s the biblical procedure for grievances that can’t be resolved. Your own father is one of the elders. You know there will be a fair hearing. He’s going to marry again, by the way. You’ll want to be there for his wedding, surely.”
Lilliana gasped. Jesse figured that last part was unwelcome news.
“You can’t get a divorce for no good reason,” Ida Mae insisted.
“Ida Mae, this is not our affair,” Jesse cautioned.
“No, Reverend, it’s certainly not.” Gerald’s eyes flashed.
“You’re welcome to stay here for the night, Mr. Swope. I’ll give you my room. The settee is fine for me. Miz Hyacinth, you must remember, is an elderly maiden lady and not used to having men under her roof.” Jesse wouldn’t use the word gentlemen. He was becoming more and more certain it was an appellation Gerald Swope did not warrant, no matter that Ida Mae seemed convinced otherwise.
“Please take me home now, Mr. Swope. I’ve heard quite enough, and I’ve certainly earned the ride.” Ida Mae lifted her chin, looping her purse over her arm.
Gerald looked as if he would say more, as if he meant to stay, but finally sto
od. “Of course, Mrs. Mae.” He picked up his fedora. “I came here in good faith, intending to take my wife home and get her the help she needs, but I see I’m too late. Even you’ve come under her spell, Reverend.” He placed his hat on his head.
Lilliana stood straighter but didn’t say a word.
Gerald stepped closer to her, but Jesse could still hear his words. “Remember what I’ve always told you. My promise stands—every word.” He stroked her cheek. She turned her face away, refusing to look at him. He turned to Jesse. “More than desertion is evidently going on here. Expect to hear from my lawyer, Reverend. Mrs. Mae?” He offered Ida Mae his arm and the door closed behind them as he ushered her through.
Jesse drew a ragged breath. It was as if a tornado had torn through his house, blowing out all the windows and doors, and now a terrible silence reigned in the destruction. “Well.” He couldn’t think what else to say.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Lilliana whispered. “He’ll do what he says. I know he will.”
“There’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t live here, and nothing untoward happened between us. I’m your pastor. You came to talk!” Jesse felt his voice rise against his will.
Lilliana shook her head. “The truth has never mattered. He’s always the injured party, the one in an outrage. Whatever it is, it’s always my fault. He knows men in high places. He’ll ruin you. He’ll—”
“I’m not afraid of him, Gra—Lilliana.”
“You don’t understand. He’s so convincing. You don’t know how convincing—how charming he can be when he wants. You saw Ida Mae. She believed everything he said.”
“Ida Mae believes what she wants to believe.”
“Yes, and she talks—all the time—and convinces people.”
“She feeds their desire for gossip.” Jesse felt his head throb.
“In the end, when people hear something ugly long enough, they believe it’s true. They want to believe it—to set it in a box they can understand and label. That’s how it was in Philadelphia. I’d hoped it would be different here.”
Jesse pushed his fingers through his hair. She was right, of course. He’d spent a lifetime building a strong reputation among the people of No Creek. But they’d be all too willing to believe the eligible Reverend Willard—who was not courting or marrying one of their daughters—had had his head turned by a Northern vixen, a married woman to boot. She was an outsider and a cultured one, which was another reason to take her down a peg or two. He could see his fall from grace and their condemnation of her like the handwriting on the wall, no matter that nothing had happened.
The truth was that he’d wanted to court Grace—or Lilliana. But that was before he knew she was married. Now it was out of the question. If that was so, why did he feel so protective, so desirous of rescuing her?
Lilliana rubbed her arms, up and down, as if cold. “He—he was going to have me committed as insane and pretend I’d been unfaithful so he could divorce me. I couldn’t stand up to him as broken as I was over Mama’s death.” Now that the confrontation was past, she couldn’t hold back the tears.
Confused and conflicted, Jesse handed her his handkerchief.
She drew a shuddering breath. “Being here—it’s the first time I’ve been able to wake each morning without being afraid. But when he sent the letter, saying he was coming tomorrow, I thought I had to go back with him to save him confronting Aunt Hyacinth. I couldn’t bear what his coming might do to her—to her heart and to her spirit—or the humiliation he might bring her in No Creek. But now that I’ve seen him again, I can’t. I know I can’t go back. And now look. I’ve ruined life here for you and for Aunt Hyacinth.”
“You’ve not ruined anything. This is not your doing.”
Lilliana shook her head, her eyes round in a sad knowing. “You don’t know him. He won’t simply walk away. He’ll wheedle and whine and win people over.”
Jesse couldn’t imagine what Gerald Swope had done to make his wife so afraid, but it was clear that she was. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to hold and comfort her, to reassure her that everything would be all right. But under the circumstances that would be the worst thing he could do, and assuring her of a good outcome was quite possibly not true. So he did nothing as she cried, and hated himself for it.
Chapter Twenty
I SPENT THE NIGHT PACING the floor of my room—thankful beyond words that I still had a haven to think, a place safe from Gerald. Where he was at that moment, I had no idea.
I couldn’t imagine he would go back to Reverend Willard’s to spend the night, not after the threat he’d left dangling in the air. But No Creek boasted no hotels or boardinghouses. Would Ida Mae take him in?
That would be like Gerald—to create an impossible situation, then make himself pitiful so someone would insist he stay with them. Gerald could effectively play the martyr, insisting that he sleep in his car to avoid putting anyone out. He’d done that on trips to church conferences before, demanding I sleep in the car with him—even on freezing nights. It built his reputation as a suffering servant.
Staying the night in No Creek would most certainly give him the opportunity to build his case as wronged husband with a heartless, disturbed wife who refused him. He could pour out his woes over the generous breakfast his host pressed upon him. Ida Mae would be only too eager to listen, to sympathize and broadcast.
I gave up pacing in the dark and turned on my bedside lamp.
Reverend Willard was naive to think that Gerald couldn’t make anything of our conversation. Gerald was a master at garnering pity and creating innuendo. Before long Ida Mae would see the picture as he painted it, regardless of what she’d seen with her own eyes.
I jerked my hair by its roots, wishing I could truly pull it out and suffer that pain instead of the mental anguish that wouldn’t go away. What had I brought on Aunt Hyacinth in her last days? What had I done to Reverend Willard and the entire congregation that would suffer from the loss of him? He was the guardian voice of No Creek. He was Shady Grove church at its best. He’d grown up among the people here and knew them. No outside minister would understand them or help them or champion them as he did.
Dear God, please. I’m afraid and ashamed and desperate. Do You want me to go back to Gerald? The very thought, let alone the prayer, made me shudder. If You do, please make that clear to me and give me the strength to do it. I love You and want to do what You want me to, but I would rather die than go back to him. Please, God, please help Aunt Hyacinth and Reverend Willard. Protect them from Gerald. They’re good people and they love You with all their hearts. They’re worthy of Your love and protection. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Gray dawn broke as I dressed and pinned up my hair. I waited until almost seven. If Gerald was at Reverend Willard’s or the general store, I’d see his car.
If he’d slept in his car, I’d rather confront him outside than inside. There would be safety inside, in the presence of other people, but also listening ears. I didn’t think he’d hit me where neighbors might see out their windows, and his hitting me wasn’t the worst that might happen.
I slipped out the back door. Just as quickly as my foot found the step, I felt another presence. There, across the garden, was a dark form, a dark-blue billow of fabric, teetering on the edge of the woods. Gerald? No, it can’t be. The form rose up, and though I couldn’t see the person’s eyes clearly, I felt them bore into mine. My breath caught in my throat, but just as quickly as I blinked, the form was gone. Unsettled, I grasped my arms around me and hurried down the hill.
Gerald’s long automobile was nowhere near the church or parsonage. I found it parked outside the general store.
He was not in his car. There was no sign that he’d slept there. The door to the store and post office was not yet open, but people would be coming by soon.
I didn’t have long to wonder or wait. Gerald waltzed around the corner of the building with Ida Mae on his arm. She looked five years younger, smil
ing and chatting with the handsome man who’d captured her every attention.
“Lilliana!” Gerald spoke my name as if surprised to see me. “You’ve come.”
“We need to talk, Gerald.” I looked at Ida Mae with her arm still wrapped around Gerald’s.
Ida Mae’s face turned from smiling to smug to grim, then slightly pink in the space of a moment. “I’m sure there’s a great deal you need to explain to your husband. I must say that I don’t know whatever possessed you to leave such a man.”
Heat rose from my toes through my torso and up to the roots of my hair. “You’re right, Ida Mae; you don’t know.”
“Ladies, please.” Gerald spoke masterfully as if stepping between a catfight. “Ida Mae, I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality or for your understanding. I won’t forget it.” The charming but sad near smile he gave Ida Mae would melt any woman’s heart.
“You come back anytime you want, Mr. Swope. Our door is always open to you.” She patted his arm, gave me a scathing look, and mounted the steps to the store and post office.
I waited, uncertain how to begin. “You stayed in Ida Mae’s house?”
“The hospitality of a fine woman and her husband eager to help after my wife turned me out.”
“Why have you really come?”
“I came to get you, of course, and take you home. You’re disturbed, Lilliana, and I intend to find you a place where you can get the help you need.”
“I won’t go back with you.”
“I saw that last night when you were sitting in the good reverend’s house, your hair mussed up as if the two of you had been doing more than talking. Something Ida Mae noticed as well.”
“Nothing happened.”
“I doubt the court will see it that way.” He looked over his shoulder. The door to the store stood slightly ajar, though the window shade was still partially drawn. Ida Mae surely stood on the other side, listening. Gerald took my hand and pulled me toward the street. “Let’s walk.”
