Neither Present Time

by Caren J. Werlinger

  “Thank you, Frances,” Mary says as she accepts the tray and pours tea for her daughter and herself.

  Waiting until they are alone again, Corinne resumes, “As nearly as I can tell, Father… ‘borrowed’ funds from depositors’ accounts for some rather… questionable investments. Things related to post-war recovery projects, but…” she glances worriedly at her mother, “they haven’t paid off as he expected, and the money isn’t there to replace what he took.”

  Mary’s hand flies to her mouth. “Are we in danger of closing?” she asks in a horrified whisper.

  Corinne stares into her tea cup. “Not immediately. Not if I can find a way of making up what he took, but… if word of this gets out and a run starts, we’ll be ruined.”

  Mary takes a bracing breath as she steadies herself. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this, my dear,” she says. “We will do what we must.”

  Corinne looks at her mother searchingly. “Do you mean that?” She knows her mother has always been spared the necessity of dealing with anything outside the running of the household.

  Mary blinks. “Of course, I do.”

  Corinne sets her tea cup down and leans toward her mother. “Then I think we may be able to salvage the situation, but it will not be easy. It will mean scrimping here at home in order to free up funds that we can use to replace what Father borrowed.”

  Mary nods. “We can do that.”

  “Yes, but,” Corinne says seriously, “I do not want Terrence or Candace to know why we are doing this. I don’t want Father’s reputation sullied, and Candace would use this to make Terrence feel guilty about not returning to the bank. That would kill him. All we have to say is that, as the current keeper of the household accounts, I have decided that we spend too lavishly, and we must be thriftier.”

  “You know this will draw your sister’s ire,” Mary says, looking at Corinne appraisingly. “She will blame you.”

  Corinne meets her mother’s gaze unflinchingly. “I know, but it must be done, and this will be the easiest way.”

  Mary draws herself up. “Then we will do what we must. We survived the Depression when others went under. We will not be closed down now.” She tilts her head sympathetically. “I want you to know how I appreciate your giving up your travel plans to stay. I don’t know how I should have dealt with your father’s funeral and all of this without you. I hope that you and Helen will be able to travel together one day soon.”

  Corinne digs her fingernails into her palms painfully in order to stay the tears threatening. “I hope so, too,” she says stoically.

  After her mother leaves the den, Corinne opens a desk drawer and pulls out a small lockbox. Pulling a tiny key from a chain around her neck, she unlocks the box and pulls out a packet of letters and postcards – the Swiss Alps, Vienna, Geneva. Each one is filled with brief descriptions of the sights, but always, “I’m saving Italy for you,” Helen writes.

  * * *

  “They’re here!” Aggie said excitedly when Ridley’s car pulled around back.

  She and Cory rushed outside to greet Beryl and Ridley with hugs of welcome. Aggie held Beryl a little longer than necessary, but noted that Beryl returned the embrace just as tightly.

  “What a house!” Ridley said appreciatively as he stood with his crutches, looking up at the enormous structure. Cory proudly took him on a tour, leaving Aggie to help Beryl with their small suitcases and sacks containing air mattresses.

  “How was the trip?” Aggie asked as she led the way up the sweeping staircase to two empty bedrooms.

  “It was good,” Beryl said. “Seemed to fly by. Luckily, we have similar taste in music, so when we weren’t talking…”

  “How are his nightmares?” Aggie asked quietly. She set down the things she was carrying and turned to face Beryl, scanning her neck for any remaining bruises.

  “He still has them some nights,” Beryl said, “but not like that night. His therapist thinks our visit to the memorials triggered stronger flashbacks for him. I didn’t even think about that,” she added guiltily.

  “I don’t think most of us would,” Aggie said sympathetically, reaching a hand out to Beryl’s shoulder, but immediately withdrawing it.

  They were interrupted by Cory and Ridley’s voices drawing near.

  “Do you want to rest before dinner?” Cory asked solicitously.

  “No,” Beryl and Ridley replied in unison.

  “Good!” she smiled. “Aggie, why don’t you call Shannon, and let’s get the grill fired up.”

  “Oh, my God,” Shannon whispered a few hours later as she and Aggie stood near the kitchen sink. “He’s gorgeous!”

  Aggie rolled her eyes. “Stop. I told you, he’s gay,” she whispered back.

  “I don’t care,” Shannon said emphatically. “He’s eye candy. I’m just going to drink him in while he’s here.” She glanced over at the table where Ridley, Beryl and Cory were huddled over a map of Columbus as she scraped plates in preparation for placing them in the sink. “And Beryl seems really great.”

  Aggie, unable to hide how she felt, beamed as she looked at Shannon. “She is,” she said simply.

  When she and Shannon had the dishes done, they joined the others at the table, pouring fresh glasses of wine for everyone. They now had a newspaper spread out, circling likely-sounding apartments for Beryl to check out. Aggie got out her laptop and brought up more real-estate listings on-line.

  “Well, I don’t need to worry about how big it is,” Beryl joked as they read descriptions of square footage and number of bedrooms. “Since I don’t have any furniture. All I need is a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom.”

  “Then why don’t you just stay here?” Shannon suggested innocently, getting up to go outside with her wine.

  Ridley grinned and followed her on his crutches, leaving a silent, shocked trio at the table.

  “Think they ever would have figured that out on their own?” he asked conspiratorially.

  “I doubt it,” Shannon said, feeling very satisfied with herself.

  * * *

  Beryl lay awake on her air mattress, unable to sleep. Shannon’s suggestion, once voiced, made it seem so obvious, but… they had all continued looking through the ads as if she hadn’t spoken. Neither she nor Aggie nor Cory seemed to know how to broach the topic. She didn’t want to push her way into their home, and she honestly didn’t know if their silence was due to not wanting a stranger here or not wanting her to feel backed into a corner where she felt she couldn’t say no without offending them.

  “You barely know them,” she reminded herself.

  “I know that.”

  “What if you don’t like it once you’re here? How are you going to move out without hurting their feelings? Or what if they get tired of you? How are they going to say so?”

  “I know,” she said to herself irritably.

  Frustrated, she got up and crept to her door. It opened silently. Barefoot, in her t-shirt and shorts, she went down the broad staircase to the study. Moonlight was streaming in through the tall windows, making it almost bright enough to read by. She sat in one of the wingchairs, drawing her knees to her chest, trying to think through how to handle this.

  She was startled by the click of dog nails on the wooden floors as Percival trotted in and jumped up, placing his front paws on her chair and nuzzling her gently.

  “Hi, there,” she smiled, giving his ears a scratch.

  She jumped when Aggie followed him a moment later.

  “I’m sorry,” Beryl apologized immediately. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” Aggie said, taking the other chair as Percival curled up in his bed. She looked over at Beryl in the moonlight. Screwing up her courage, she said, “I suspect we weren’t sleeping for the same reason.”

  Beryl realized how fast her heart was beating. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Or maybe not,” Aggie corrected, cursing herself for assuming.

  “No,” Bery
l blurted. “You’re right, I think.” She swallowed, but it was hard to do. “I… I would love to live here with you and your aunt, but…”

  “But you’re not sure if we want you,” Aggie finished for her. “I know Shannon thinks it’s simple, but it isn’t. This will only work if we promise to be honest with each other.”

  Beryl looked at Aggie, wondering what “this” she was referring to. Hoping she wouldn’t pass out from hyperventilating, “I agree,” she managed to croak.

  Aggie shifted to face Beryl. “I don’t want to scare you away, but… I care about you. A lot. It’s the first time since Rachel left that I’ve felt this way about anyone, but I know it’s too soon for you, after Claire…”

  Beryl took a deep breath. “Aggie,” she bit her lip. “I… I care about you, too. You are the best part of my day, but… I used to feel that way about Claire, and… I just don’t trust myself…”

  Aggie bravely came to Beryl, and held out her hand. Beryl took it and let Aggie pull her to her feet. “Both of us need to learn to trust again – ourselves and each other – but… one thing I’m learning from Aunt Cory is that there’s nothing worse than getting old and realizing your regrets are from not taking the chance on happiness when it was right there in front of you.”

  She came closer until her lips met Beryl’s in a kiss, tender and wounded and soft. Tentatively, they held one another, savoring this first kiss, both afraid to yield to the tumult of emotions coursing through them. When at last they pulled apart, both aching for more, Aggie murmured, “Just so you know, without any doubts… I would like to have you to live here, if it’s what you would like.”

  Calling Percival, she went back upstairs, leaving Beryl standing in the moonlight.

  Chapter 29

  “I don’t know what we’ll do here without you,” said a heavy-set woman with Coke-bottle glasses.

  “Thank you, Doris,” Beryl said, giving her a hug. “I’m going to miss all of you.”

  As word slowly got round that Beryl was leaving, colleagues sought her out to wish her well.

  “I had no idea so many people even knew who I was,” Beryl confided to Ridley.

  He shook his head. “You way underestimate how much you’ve done around here,” he said. “I knew who you were even when I worked over at Dahlgren.”

  Beryl didn’t know what to say to this, so she said nothing. With two weeks left here at Georgetown, she would have one week for her move before starting at Ohio State.

  “Do you want to buy any furniture?” Ridley had asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Beryl had replied. “I’d just have to move it. I may as well wait until I’m in Columbus and get stuff there.”

  “How about a car?”

  She shrugged. “Aggie said buses run near their house to campus, so transportation shouldn’t be a problem, and then if I find that a car would be more convenient, I can take my time looking for one.”

  She expelled a deep breath. “I just can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

  Neither could her family. They had gathered for a niece’s birthday the weekend after Labor Day.

  “This is a joke, right?” Nick scoffed when he was told.

  “No joke,” Beryl said.

  He turned to Marian. “What did you do to piss her off this time?”

  “Why is this my fault?” Marian retorted.

  “Because Beryl would never do something like this on her own,” Nick said as if this should be obvious.

  His wife, Julie, who had been watching Beryl’s face during this exchange, said smugly, “Maybe you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do.”

  Beryl shot her a grateful smile. She got up from the table, leaving Nick and Marian sniping at one another. I’m really not going to miss this, she thought as she carried her dishes into the kitchen.

  Her father followed her a moment later. “I’m proud of you, Beryl,” Gerald said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  For getting this job, or for breaking away? Beryl wondered, but all she said was, “Thanks, Dad.”

  Much more difficult than telling her family or her colleagues was telling Mr. Herrmann that she was moving.

  “I have to tell him in person,” Beryl insisted. She looked up at Ridley, and said, “Unless George already did?”

  Ridley shook his head. “I asked him not to. I knew you would want to tell him yourself. Want to go today after our workout?”

  Beryl nodded. Ridley wasn’t letting up on the workouts. “I’ve only got a few more weeks to whip you into shape,” he declared. “I want to turn out a finished Marine. And you’d better keep it up once you’re out there,” he said threateningly.

  When they got to The Scriptorium later that evening, Beryl tried to savor everything – the musical tinkle of the bell, the slightly musty scent of the books, Mr. Herrmann’s cologne.

  “Oh, my dear,” Mr. Herrmann said when she told him, his eyes growing bright. “How I will miss you! But it makes me so happy to know you will be working to preserve and collect old books. This is what you should be doing.” He leaned close. “I just wish you were doing it here.”

  Beryl smiled. “Part of me does, too, but I think it will be good for me to live somewhere else for a while.”

  He looked her up and down. “Maybe you are right, but,” he gestured at her, “you already look like a new person!”

  George came over to give her a hug. “Congratulations again.”

  “Thanks,” she said, squeezing him tightly.

  * * *

  “You don’t have to take all these,” Ridley said, pointing to the boxes of books stacked in Beryl’s bedroom. “It’s not like the Bishop house is bereft of books. Sort through them, take the ones you really want with you, and leave the rest here for now. They won’t be in my way at all, and, once you’re sure you’re settled, then we can make arrangements to get the rest to you.”

  His suggestion was reasonable, and Beryl caught his subtle hint that maybe, moving in with Aggie and Cory wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  “It just seems,” he said, picking his words carefully, “that maybe it’s moving a little fast.”

  “This whole thing was yours and Shannon’s idea,” she reminded him.

  “I know,” he hedged.

  “And you were the one encouraging me to explore things with Aggie.”

  “Yeah, in terms of sex, which I still think would be good for you,” he said, “not in terms of moving in together.”

  “We’re not ‘moving in together’,” she told him. “I’m renting a room from her and her ninety-something great-aunt – a room in a huge mansion. And I don’t intend for the sex thing to happen for a long, long time, if ever.”

  “Whatever,” he said, shaking his head in total incomprehension.

  “You’re such a guy,” she laughed.

  “Thanks for noticing,” he said sarcastically.

  “Speaking of which, what’s happening with George?” she asked nosily, deciding that, as she was leaving, she didn’t need to be so cautious anymore. “He’s been over here a lot lately.”

  “Things are… moving along,” Ridley said vaguely. “It’s weird, Beryl. I’ve never been with anyone like him. He’s not pushy. He’s been willing to let me set the rules. It’s just so different.”

  Beryl smiled. “This sounds very promising,” she said with a superior air.

  “Do you need to see your parents one more time before we leave in the morning?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Beryl sobered up at once. “No.”

  Her last visit with her mother and father for their last Thursday evening dinner together had been tough. Edith, never a demonstrative or emotional woman, had actually apologized to Beryl.

  “I never meant to ignore you or take you for granted,” she tried to explain. “It’s just that you were the steady one, the one I never had to worry about getting into trouble, or doing anything foolish. And I suppose… I can see how that could appear to you as if I d
idn’t care as much…”

  Her voice cracked, and she turned away. Beryl went to her and said gently, “Mom, I know I made it sound as if I’m doing this as some kind of reaction, but I’m not. I worked hard for my doctorate, and I’ve never done anything with it. I let Claire talk me out of applying for other positions that I would have loved, and then this one came along out of the blue. I’m not going to let life slide by me anymore. I’m only a few hours away. I’ll be home for visits.”

  “It won’t be the same as having you so nearby,” Edith insisted, and that, thought Beryl, is a very good thing.

  * * *

  “Is this everything?” Aggie asked in surprise as she, Cory and Percival greeted Beryl, Ridley and Winston when they arrived the last weekend of September.

  “I travel light these days,” Beryl quipped, as she and Aggie carried her one box of books and her two small suitcases of clothes up to the room she had used before where the air mattress awaited. They set Winston’s carrier down and supervised Percival as the two animals sniffed curiously at one another through the grated door.

  “Didn’t you take anything from the place you shared with Claire?” Aggie asked gently.

  Beryl shook her head. “I didn’t want any of it,” she said firmly. Everything she had once liked now had negative connotations attached to it, real or imagined – a bed Leslie and Claire had had sex in… a sofa they had curled up on together… “Let it go!” she’d told herself harshly back when she had decided to leave with so little.

  “I like that. A fresh start,” Aggie said, and Beryl had the strong feeling that she had read her mind. “We can go furniture shopping after school or this coming weekend, if you like,” Aggie offered.

  Beryl smiled gratefully. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  The next morning, Ridley prepared to drive back to D.C. by himself after breakfast, and Beryl found herself choking up as she tried to say good-bye.

  “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you,” she whispered as she held him tightly while he leaned against his car.

  He held her just as tightly as he murmured, “Or I without you. You’ve done more for me than you know. You made me believe I don’t have to be alone anymore.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be out to visit,” he promised. “And you’d better come back to see me, too.”