Neither Present Time

by Caren J. Werlinger

  He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

  “Don’t you think maybe you should?” she suggested hoarsely.

  Chapter 26

  Aggie filled her coffee cup and carried it out to the veranda where she sat, enjoying the early morning coolness while Percival inspected the garden. Closing her eyes, she savored both the coffee and the solitude.

  Who would’ve thought, she wondered with a droll smile, that in a house this large, Aunt Cory and I could get in each other’s way?

  With so little furniture left now, there really were not many areas in the house where one could sit, with the end result being that they frequently found themselves together in the study or the kitchen. Aggie often retreated to her sitting room upstairs, but then found she was constantly worrying if Cory was okay by herself downstairs, so that she couldn’t really relax there, either.

  A smile returned to her face as she thought of Beryl, something she found herself doing more and more frequently. She was past denying the flutter in her stomach when she saw it was Beryl calling in the evenings. She had no idea how things between them might change if Beryl were to be offered and accept the OSU position, and she kept reminding herself that Beryl wasn’t ready for a new relationship yet, but… in her most honest moments, she had to admit she was starting to care deeply for Beryl. “That doesn’t mean you have to be stupid,” she reminded herself sternly, determined to never again act the fool over some woman.

  Inside, Cory sat in her chair in the study, with the windows open, an old leather-bound journal on her lap. Beryl’s return of the lost book and her questions about Helen had triggered a desire in Cory to revisit old thoughts and memories – things she hadn’t really thought about in decades. Aggie had relaxed a bit since moving in, and was not nearly as bossy as she had been. Cory smiled. Maybe that was Beryl’s influence, too. Beryl freely admitted she had felt as if she had come to know Cory without ever having met her, but in so doing, had imagined Cory as a twenty-something, a deeply-in-love young woman with passions and an interesting life waiting to be lived… It made Cory feel as if the clock had been turned back to be thought of that way, to be looked at by a young person and know that she wasn’t being seen as an old woman or someone’s great-aunt – someone whose life was over and done with.

  * * *

  “How many times are you going to re-pack?” Helen asks with a laugh as she enters the bedroom to find Corinne yet again re-organizing her trunk.

  On the dresser sit their first-class tickets for an ocean liner leaving from New York in four days.

  “We’ll have to stop and see my parents while we’re in New York,” Helen had said as they made their travel arrangements. “They’ll love you,” she repeatedly reassures an anxious Corinne.

  The past few months have wrought a wonderful change in Helen as she was able to focus her energies on planning their tour of Europe. Corinne is excited beyond words to think she is finally going to see places she has always dreamed of.

  “You may be disappointed,” Helen cautions her. “England continues to be under rations, and my friends write that London is still devastated by the bombing.”

  “What about Paris?” Corinne asks. “We will be able to go to Paris, won’t we?”

  Helen’s expression darkens and Corinne wonders what memories will be stirred by a visit to France. She has never asked where in France Helen’s missions were. “We can if you like,” Helen says. “I think you’d prefer a visit to other places in France.” Corinne knows she is silently adding, “Places not occupied by the Nazis.”

  Though Corinne is afraid of what she will see in Germany, she knows she must stand by Helen as she goes. “It’s the strangest thing…” Helen has said to Corinne more than once since her return, “I have never thought of myself as Jewish or lesbian,” – Corinne squirms uncomfortably at that word – “I was just… me. But knowing that people like me, like us, were rounded up and tortured and killed – it makes me feel a connection to them that I’ve never felt before.”

  But what Corinne is looking forward to the most is the Mediterranean. “You’ve never seen anything like the blue of the water,” Helen says to her as they lie in bed at night and plan. “Sitting on warm Italian stone, and looking out at the sea as you smell the dust and the olive trees and the sun…”

  “You can’t smell sun,” Corinne laughs.

  “You can in Italy,” Helen assures her.

  Corinne is just closing the lid of her trunk again when they hear shouts from below. She and Helen fling open the bedroom door and race down the stairs into the den to find her father lying on the floor next to his chair.

  “What happened?” Corinne cries.

  “I don’t know, Miss Corinne,” says the maid who found him. “I was bringing him his afternoon tea – you know he likes it promptly at three o’clock when he gets home from the bank – and he was just there.”

  Helen rushes over to him. “Send someone to get Mrs. Bishop from the garden,” she says authoritatively as she places fingers on his throat, “and then call the doctor. Ask him to come and to send an ambulance.”

  “Yes, Miss Helen,” says the maid, running to do as Helen asks.

  As they wait for the doctor to come, Helen loosens Eugene’s tie and shirt collar and fans him. “Why don’t you go wait for the doctor?” she suggests to Corinne, refusing to meet her eye, and Corinne knows why Helen wants her out of the room. Dumbly, she nods and goes to the front entry where she paces anxiously.

  “It’s his heart,” the doctor tells the family a short while later as Eugene is whisked away by an ambulance, lights flashing and sirens blaring. He finds it difficult to meet Mary’s tearful eyes as she wrings a lace handkerchief. He glances at the three grown children – Terrence sits in the Morris chair in the corner, withdrawn into his own world, while Candace fans herself melodramatically, looking as if she might swoon. Only Corinne, the young, pretty one meets his eye stoically, demanding the truth. Her friend, somewhat mannish but attractive, stands behind her. She seems most sensible, he thinks and he is gratified that she will be there, lending her support through what is to come.

  “I’ll know more when I can examine him at the hospital, but it is doubtful he will live more than a day or two,” the doctor says to Corinne. “I told him three years ago, he had to take it easy, turn over more responsibilities at the bank, but…” He remembers why Eugene couldn’t take a lesser role and casts a troubled glance at Terrence who is very white.

  He clears his throat, and speaks directly to Corinne. “I’d like for you to come with me to the hospital.”

  The vigil lasts for nearly two days. Eugene is agitated and demands Corinne summon his lawyer to his hospital room. The three of them are huddled in there for hours as nurses and the rest of the family are barred from entry.

  “I’m the eldest,” Candace complains petulantly. “Why is she in there instead of me?”

  “I suspect because Eugene trusts her to carry out his wishes.” Wisely, Helen does not say this.

  Instead, she paces ceaselessly, knowing that this turn of events will almost certainly spell an end to their plans for travel. Her heart sinks as she contemplates having to stay here indefinitely, for “I can’t leave now,” Corinne sobs in Helen’s arms after her father dies. “I promised him… I’d stay to settle his affairs. He was adamant that Terrence be taken care of and he knows Candace wouldn’t do it. And there was something else… he couldn’t bring himself to say… he was almost incoherent with worry. He kept stammering something about ‘the wall, in the wall.’ I have no idea what he meant. All I could do was promise him I would take care of it.”

  She raises her beautiful tear-stained face. “I know you have to go,” she whispers. “I see in it in your eyes.”

  Helen kisses her tenderly. “I don’t want to go without you.”

  “But if you don’t, you’ll come to hate being here, and I couldn’t bear that,” Corinne says, laying a hand tenderly on Helen’s cheek. “I’ll
join you if I can… but if I can’t, I’ll be here waiting for you to come back. I’ll always be waiting.”

  * * *

  Aggie came into the study. “Are you ready for breakfast?” she asked, but stopped short as she saw Cory wiping her cheeks as she closed her book.

  She sat down in the other chair, her face concerned as she asked, “Are you sure you’re all right? It’s just that lately, there seem to be so many painful memories.”

  Cory looked up at her. “Some of them are,” she agreed. “But just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

  Chapter 27

  Beryl looked up from her computer as George came to the reference desk.

  “Hi,” she said brightly.

  “Hi,” he smiled, but the smile faltered a bit as his eyes slid down her face to her neck. She tugged up the collar of her shirt, trying to hide the bruises.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she said. “I don’t think he’d go if he had to go alone.”

  “I don’t mind,” George said.

  Ridley wheeled out of the staff room. “Hey,” he said.

  “All set?” George asked, glancing at his watch. “We should have plenty of time to get to the VA and find parking before your appointment.”

  “Kumbaya time,” Ridley said sarcastically, looking down as he fiddled with his backpack.

  George laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “It won’t be like that.”

  “I’ll see you at home later,” Ridley said to Beryl.

  “If I survive my mother,” Beryl joked. Her eyes met George’s for a few seconds before he followed Ridley to the door.

  If Beryl had thought being tackled by Ridley in the midst of his nightmares was tough, it was nothing to facing her mother for the first time since her outburst in the basement. “That was always the problem,” Beryl had tried to explain to Aggie. “I always held everything in until I was ready to explode, and then my family just laughed off my ‘dramatics,’ as they called them.” Edith’s typical response, a response copied by the rest of the family, was to ignore Beryl’s dramatics. The tactic usually worked as Beryl almost always quailed from pursuing whatever had triggered her outburst in the first place. “I just learned to keep my mouth shut.” Edith had apparently decided to act as if Beryl had never spoken of Ohio State or another job, and no further mention of the topic had been made over the phone the past few weeks.

  When Beryl got to her parents’ house, she found Marian there also, flipping through the newspaper. “What are you doing here on a weeknight?” she asked in surprise.

  Without looking up at her, Marian replied with a slight edge to her voice, “I heard that the basement was full of boxes of my stuff, so I came to clear a few out.”

  Beryl flushed, but, rather than stammer or apologize, she simply said, “Good.”

  Marian looked up at that, but Beryl turned to her mother asking if she needed help with dinner preparations. Gathering plates for the table, Beryl asked her sister if she was staying for dinner.

  “You know,” Aggie had said gently when Beryl was trying to describe her interactions with her family, “you sound like a lot of my teacher friends who complain that their husbands and kids take them for granted and never help them around the house. They don’t ask directly for help; they expect the husband and kids to see that they need help because they themselves would notice and jump in. And then they’re repeatedly disappointed when it doesn’t happen. They turn into martyrs.”

  Beryl had opened her mouth immediately to protest that that wasn’t what she did, but now, thinking back on that conversation, she had to wonder.

  “Here,” she said, forcing herself to adopt a light tone as she set the stack of plates down in front of Marian. “If you’ll put these on the table, I’ll get the silverware.”

  Marian blinked up at her, but Beryl didn’t stay to see whether she would protest. By the time she brought the silverware out to the table, Marian had the plates laid and was going back to get water glasses.

  Quickly deciding that whooping would not be the appropriate response to this small victory, Beryl contented herself with a tiny smile of satisfaction.

  “What happened to your neck?” Edith asked as they all sat, her eyes probing.

  Knowing better than to deny anything had happened, which would only raise her mother’s suspicions, Beryl said, “I thought I’d play a joke on Ridley and snuck up on him. He reacted. It was stupid of me to startle a Marine.”

  Gerald blinked and looked up. “I remember one time…” and he launched into a narrative that no one really listened to about his time in the Air Force.

  They were just clearing away the dinner dishes when Beryl’s cell phone rang over where it lay next to her keys on the kitchen counter. To Beryl’s intense irritation, Marian answered.

  “Just a moment,” she said to whomever was on the other end. “They want Dr. Gray,” she said mockingly.

  If Beryl had thought getting Marian to help set the table had signaled a shift in their relationship, she was wrong. Beryl snatched the phone from her sister, and said, “This is Dr. Gray,” before she walked into the den and shut the door loudly.

  Never in her life had Beryl been able to make decisions easily, without second-guessing herself, largely because everyone else her entire life had second-guessed for her. Perhaps things wouldn’t have been any different this time if she hadn’t been so angry with her sister, but she was as surprised as anyone when she returned to the table where her family was eating dessert and announced, “I am the new Assistant Curator in the Rare Books and Manuscripts Library at the Ohio State University.”

  * * *

  “You’re kidding!” Ridley exclaimed when she got home later that evening to find him and George seated at the table over Chinese and gave them the news.

  She hugged both of them delightedly.

  “This deserves a toast,” Ridley said, going to the refrigerator and pulling out three bottles of Sam Adams.

  He and George raised their bottles and said, “To Dr. Gray.”

  Beryl took a long drink and sat back, exhaling at last. “Well, your reaction was a lot more positive than my family’s,” she said. “My mother didn’t speak to me for the rest of the evening. And my sister…”

  “Do you really care what she thinks?” Ridley asked sardonically.

  Beryl grinned. “Not really.”

  Her expression sobered as she considered the consequences of her decision. “Wow,” she murmured. “I start October first. I’ve got a boatload of stuff to do.” She looked up at them in dismay. “I’ve got to find an apartment in a city I don’t know. Will I need a car? I’ve never owned a car. Why the hell didn’t I think about that before?”

  Ridley could see the panic building in her eyes. “Calm down,” he said. “We’ll tackle this one thing at a time. Tomorrow, you’ll hand in your notice to Georgetown. We can go to Ohio over Labor Day if you like and spend the weekend looking for apartments. And we can check out the bus situation. Does Columbus have a train?”

  No one knew.

  “Anyway, it will be fine,” he assured her.

  Beryl looked at him, suddenly hit by how very much she was going to miss him. “Maybe –”

  “Don’t,” he cut in. He reached across the table and took her hand. “You worked hard for this. You deserve it. It’s a good thing, Beryl. A good thing.” He sat back. “Why don’t you call Aggie and give her the news.”

  * * *

  “Beryl, that’s wonderful!” Aggie said when she heard.

  Beryl was biting her lip as she waited for Aggie’s reaction. “You’re sure?”

  Aggie laughed. “I’m very sure.” She hesitated for a second, then said, “It’s what I was hoping for.”

  Beryl suddenly found it hard to breathe. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Sitting there, Beryl found herself filled with a warmth she hadn’t known in a very long time.

  Chapter 28

  “Agatha, it’s only
ten o’clock,” Cory said. “They can’t possibly be here yet.”

  Aggie turned from the front windows where she was looking for any sign of Ridley’s car.

  “If you’d be more comfortable staying at a hotel, I’d understand,” Aggie had said nervously as Beryl made plans to come to Columbus to scout for an apartment, “but we have lots of empty bedrooms right here… I mean we don’t have beds, but –”

  “We’d love to stay with you,” Beryl interrupted. “Are you kidding? Stay with friends instead of at a hotel? We can get air mattresses if you don’t mind us camping out with you.”

  She smiled at the warmth in Aggie’s voice as she said, “We’re looking forward to having you here. Both of you.”

  “I know they’re not here,” Aggie said now. “I was just dusting the window sill.”

  “I see,” Cory said with a knowing smile as she herself ran a damp mop over the foyer floor. “I remember when there was an entire crew of maids and gardeners to take care of this old place,” she called.

  “Well, one benefit of a mostly empty house,” Aggie said as she ran her cloth over the mantel, “is that it’s easy to clean around here.”

  * * *

  Corinne is preoccupied as she comes home and goes directly to her father’s den. The sound of Candace’s piano fades as she closes the door. The handsome mahogany paneling creates a quiet, meditative atmosphere and she understands why her father liked it in here so much. The den still smells faintly of his pipe tobacco. It has taken her weeks to make sense of the bank’s books, and she is exhausted. She looks up at a soft knock on the door. Her mother comes in, closing the door behind her.

  “Is it as bad as you thought?” Mary asks, noting the dark circles under Corinne’s eyes.

  Corinne looks at her mother, wondering how much to tell her. “Father –”

  They are interrupted by the maid bringing in a tea tray. “Just like we did for Mr. Bishop,” she insists each day when Corinne comes home from the bank.