Neither Present Time

by Caren J. Werlinger

  “I will.”

  Settling behind the wheel, he reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out a fat envelope which he pressed into Beryl’s hand.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “The rent you’ve been paying me,” he said. “Don’t argue. I don’t need it, but I appreciate that you wanted to share expenses. You’ll need it here. You’re starting over.”

  Tearfully, she waved him off as he drove away. She felt something at her elbow, and turned to find Cory taking her arm, steering her toward the garden.

  “Good-byes are never easy,” Cory said softly.

  “I don’t know how you and Helen did it,” Beryl said.

  * * *

  Corinne stands on the outdoor observation deck at the Columbus airport. She knows Helen’s plane isn’t due for at least an hour, but she likes to watch the planes taking off and landing, eagerly anticipating the time when she can be on one of them, taking off with Helen for exotic locales. The chill October air has a bite to it, and she draws the collar of her old Navy pea coat more closely around her neck. She smiles to herself, remembering how it irritates Candace that she will not throw it away.

  “I can’t believe you would embarrass us by going about in that ratty old thing,” Candace declared only this morning as Corinne prepared to leave for the airport. “And are those men’s pants you’re wearing?”

  Constrained by the roles she has been forced to assume as bank president and community leader, Corinne feels a rush of exhilaration now as she stands, feet wide apart, feeling the wind in her hair, whipped to a higher velocity by the propellers of passing planes. For this bit of time, she can pretend she is just Corinne again, living on her own, independent and free to do as she wishes. But she is not. Even as she stands there, she recalls that there is a board meeting this week for which she must prepare.

  When Helen’s plane lands at last, Corinne catches sight of her descending the plane’s steps. Waving madly, she pushes her way inside to rush into Helen’s arms. Ignoring the curious stares of the other passengers, she and Helen hold one another tightly as Corinne breathes in the flowery scent she has missed so.

  “Oh, I can’t believe you’re here,” she murmurs.

  Helen’s throaty laugh sounds in her ear. “I’m here.” She pulls back to look into Corinne’s eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where are we going?” she asks a few minutes later as Corinne drives them from the airport in the Bishops’ 1946 Chrysler Windsor, Eugene’s last big purchase before his heart attack.

  “Not home,” says Corinne. “Not yet.”

  She drives them out of town, out into the country, where harvested fields full of stubble run to the horizon. Parking on the side of the road, she turns to Helen and says, “Tell me everything, everywhere you’ve been, everything you’ve seen.”

  Helen laughs again. “I’ve told you in my letters and postcards.” She sees the desperate look in Corinne’s eyes and says, “But I’ll tell you again, later. For now, tell me what you’ve been dealing with. Your letters alluded to problems, but you never said what exactly.”

  Corinne tells her about Eugene’s financial indiscretions and her efforts to fix everything before any of it could become public knowledge.

  “Only Mother knows,” she says. “I’ve had to put everyone on a strict allowance, which Candace, of course, protests. But, the hardest part was having to let some of the staff go. They’d been with us for years, most of them. I kept the oldest ones, and have done all I could to help the younger ones find other work, but… the house and grounds are suffering. We can’t keep things as they were.”

  Helen takes her hand, noticing the worry lines newly etched upon Corinne’s forehead. “I know how capable you are,” she says. “I know you’ll get everything worked out. Have you been able to pay back what Eugene took from other accounts?”

  “Nearly. I think with another six or seven months, I’ll have everything square, and then I can leave and we can do as we please.”

  Helen leans to her and kisses her passionately. “Six months,” she murmurs when they part. “Then I’ll show you the world.”

  * * *

  “As I look back,” Cory said, “I’m not sure how we did it, either. It broke my heart every time we had to say good-bye. It’s a wonder I still have a heart.”

  She and Beryl walked along the garden path, strewn with early fallen leaves and acorns that crunched as they walked.

  “I think,” Beryl said, taking Cory’s hand, “that you must have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”

  Cory smiled. “Bless you. And bless you for coming to us. We needed you, Beryl Gray.”

  “Not as much as I needed you, Corinne Bishop.”

  Chapter 30

  There was a loud shuffling and scraping of chairs as the bell rang.

  “Remember, have the second act of Romeo and Juliet read by next week,” Aggie called to the students as they pushed to the door. All except Becka.

  “I’ve already read the whole thing, Miss Bishop,” she said as she remained seated at her desk, her book still open, clearly signaling that she was ready for a long talk.

  “That’s great, Becka,” Aggie said, trying to hide her consternation at having Becka in the last period of the day, which allowed her to hang out after the bell rang. Aggie had already found it tough to get away, and they were only a month into the semester.

  “Hey,” Shannon’s head popped around the doorway. “Aren’t you ready yet? We have to go.”

  “Hi, Miss Callahan,” Becka said glumly.

  “Hello, Becka,” said Shannon. “Sorry, but we’ve got to run.”

  “Have a good weekend, Miss Bishop,” Becka said as Aggie nearly ran out the door.

  “You, too. Bye.”

  Aggie released a pent-up breath as they escaped into the parking lot. “Whew! Thank you!”

  “No problem,” Shannon grinned. “You have got to get tougher.”

  “It’s just hard because I usually do need to stay and get things done at the end of the day, and she takes it as an invitation to sit and chat.”

  “It’s only going to get worse if you don’t cut her off somehow,” Shannon warned.

  “You’re right.”

  “I know I am. You don’t see anyone hanging out in my classroom, do you?” Shannon asked.

  Aggie looked at her ruefully. “You teach algebra, and you’re a bitch.”

  Shannon spread her hands apart, eyebrows raised, as if to say, “See? Problem solved.”

  Aggie laughed. “I’ll figure something out. My way.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You coming to dinner tonight?”

  “And miss the chance to see the incredible Dr. Gray?” Shannon teased. “Of course, I’m coming.”

  Aggie stopped abruptly as she tossed her bag into the back seat of her car. “You do like her, don’t you?”

  Shannon tilted her head. “Yes. I do like her. I was prepared not to, but so far… I can’t find anything to dislike. Damn it. How are things going, by the way?”

  “It’s barely changed our routine. We’ve hardly seen her,” Aggie replied. “She’s been working late, and when she is at the house, she spends most of her time up in her room. I’m going to take her shopping for some furniture tomorrow.”

  Aggie got in her car and rolled the window down. “See you at six. It’s the end of her first week at OSU.”

  “Should I bring champagne?” Shannon called sarcastically as she went on to her car.

  “I already have some,” Aggie returned with a wave as she pulled away.

  * * *

  “The collections are amazing,” Beryl was saying a couple of hours later over dinner. “I’ve been familiarizing myself with them this week. But the medieval documents – manuscripts and prayer books mostly – you really have to see them. It’s incredible to think of the work that went into preparing the vellum, grinding and mixing the ingredients for the inks – you should see the colors
, even centuries later – and then the painstaking work of inscribing the actual text.”

  She was animated in a way that she never was when talking about herself, and her enthusiasm was contagious. Her eyes behind her glasses were bright, and the way her hair changed color, depending on how the light hit it… Aggie caught Shannon watching her watch Beryl, and turned back to her plate, her face burning.

  Aggie popped the champagne she had bought, and poured for everyone, raising her glass in a toast to Beryl and her new position. Embarrassed by the focused attention, Beryl changed the subject, asking Aggie and Shannon how the new school year was going.

  “Well, other than Aggie being cornered three days a week by an obnoxious student who –” Shannon began.

  “She’s not obnoxious,” Aggie protested. “She’s just lonely. She doesn’t have any other friends, and I’ve been elected.”

  “You’re too nice,” Shannon insisted, her attention caught as Beryl got up from the table to take some empty dishes to the sink for rinsing.

  “Sorry,” Beryl muttered, pausing to return to the table to carefully push her chair back into position first.

  “That dinner was excellent, Aunt Cory,” Shannon said appreciatively while Beryl brought a plate of brownies to the table.

  “I’ll have to make you a hundred dinners to thank you for all the help you gave Agatha with the painting,” Cory said.

  “It’s a good thing she ran out of gin, or I’d still be painting,” Shannon grumbled good-naturedly.

  “Well, I’d be glad to help with things like that, too,” Beryl offered.

  “Thank you, Beryl,” Cory said. “As a matter of fact, the garden and yard need a serious raking and cleaning up, so if you’re willing…?”

  “Of course,” Beryl smiled.

  “How about we go furniture shopping tomorrow morning, and tackle the garden in the afternoon?” Aggie suggested.

  “Oh, girls, that would be wonderful,” Cory said.

  “I’ll clean up. You cooked,” Beryl insisted when they were done with the brownies and rose from the table.

  “I’ll help you,” Shannon said. “You and Aunt Cory go sit on the porch and relax. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” she said to Aggie, giving her a playful shove. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

  She put the leftovers away and dried the dishes, chatting about football, which Beryl knew nothing of, while Beryl washed the pans and utensils. Shannon went to wipe down the table, still watching Beryl covertly as she rinsed the sink and then scrubbed it clean, followed by wiping it dry with a clean towel.

  Unable to stand by any longer, Shannon went to her. “Beryl, stop. Just stop.”

  Beryl looked up at her.

  Gently, Shannon took the towel from her hands and hung it on the oven door handle to dry. “You don’t have to do that anymore. No one here will care that the sink isn’t perfectly clean and dry. No one cares that the chairs aren’t all pushed in,” she said, gesturing to the table where the chairs were somewhat haphazardly left sitting about. “You don’t have to do that anymore,” she repeated.

  Beryl raised her gaze to Shannon’s, and knew that she understood. To her shame, she felt sudden tears spring to her eyes, and she rushed out the back door into the garden.

  Shannon let her go, and made her way out to the front porch where Cory was rocking and Aggie was sitting on the topmost step as dusk fell. She sat heavily next to Aggie.

  “Where’s Beryl?” Aggie asked.

  She looked at Shannon more closely when she didn’t receive an immediate reply. She hadn’t seen that look on Shannon’s face in a long time, not since….

  “What’s wrong?” she asked in a low voice.

  Shannon pressed her forehead to her hand. “God, that trigger is so strong. You think you’re over it, and then…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if her partner ever hit her, but I know abused behavior when I see it. She’s out back. Go to her.”

  Aggie had to wander to the far corner of the garden before she found Beryl near an old grotto, long since dry. Darkness was descending in earnest as she sat next to her on one of the granite benches, carved with elaborate acanthus leaves. For long minutes, she simply sat there.

  At length, she said, “Shannon’s ex-husband used to beat her. For years, I stood by, knowing it was happening, but not sure what to say. I felt like such a coward, pretending it wasn’t happening, and letting her pretend all her bruises and black eyes were accidents. I can’t remember what happened to make me finally say something, but… all it took was one person acknowledging to her that they knew the truth, and she said it changed everything. Even so, it took her a long time to stop reacting to the things that reminded her of her life with him.”

  She shifted closer and laid one hand over top of Beryl’s where it tightly gripped the edge of the bench.

  Beryl’s head was bowed. “I’m just so ashamed, and so angry. I let it happen,” she whispered. “She never touched me. She didn’t have to. I… I was so infatuated in the beginning that… and then, later, I didn’t want arguments. Somehow, without even knowing how it happened, I was doing everything her way. All she had to do was point or say one word and I would jump.” She removed her glasses and swiped her sleeve angrily across her eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  Looking down, she flipped her other hand over and twined her fingers with Aggie’s, resisting the urge to kiss the hand of this woman who had become her savior.

  “No!” said another voice in her head immediately, the one that used to try and warn her about Claire, the one she never wanted to listen to. “You’ve got to be your own savior. No one else can play that role.”

  “I don’t think you’re that person anymore, Beryl,” Aggie said softly. “I know you’re not over it completely, but you’ll never be that person again. And I wouldn’t want you to be. You will find yourself again. I think you’ve already started to. Remember, you’re just one of the walking wounded in this house.”

  Beryl’s mouth twitched into a smile. “That’s what Ridley used to say.”

  Aggie shrugged. “For a man, he’s pretty smart,” she admitted grudgingly.

  Beryl laughed. “That’s what I used to say.”

  Aggie tugged on Beryl’s hand. “Come on. I’m afraid to leave Aunt Cory alone with Shannon too long. It’s hard to tell what stories she’ll get Cory to spill when I’m not there to defend myself.”

  Chapter 31

  “Well, how are you settling in?” Bart Hudspath asked, his eyes widening a little in surprise at the lack of any kind of personalization of Beryl’s office – not even her framed doctoral degree on the wall.

  He looked very like what Beryl had expected from their initial telephone conversations: wire-rimmed glasses, salt and pepper hair and beard, tweed jacket. His genial manner seemed a contradiction to his prestigious accomplishments: faculty positions at Columbia and Yale, including a stint at the Library of Congress before coming to Ohio State as the head of the department.

  “I’m doing just fine, thank you,” she said, reaching over to clear a stack of folders off the seat of the extra chair next to her desk.

  “HR got you all set up with your benefits paperwork?” he asked, sitting and crossing his legs comfortably.

  Beryl nodded. “No problems,” she said.

  “And you don’t mind helping with the cataloguing of our new acquisitions?”

  “Not at all,” Beryl hastened to assure him. “I did some of that at Georgetown, so I know the complexities of cataloguing will help me be that much more familiar with what we have.”

  “Good,” he smiled. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Oh, a few of us are going out for drinks this Friday after work. We’d love to have you join us.”

  “Thanks, but… I have plans for Friday,” Beryl said, trying not to look too pleased.

  Just a couple of evenings ago, Cory had come to the study with an envelope in hand. Standing there, she’d said, “Agatha’s birthday is this Friday,
and I got these tickets for West Side Story quite a while ago. I’d like you to use them.”

  “No,” Beryl protested immediately. “You got those for the two of you.”

  “I insist,” Cory had said, pushing the envelope into Aggie’s hands with a smile that made her look suspiciously like Shannon. “You two go and have a good time.”

  “Well, some other time then,” Dr. Hudspath smiled. Picking up on Beryl’s shyness, he reassured her, “We’re all just a bunch of old-book geeks.”

  “Thanks,” Beryl repeated as he left.

  Her new colleagues really were nice people, even if they were a bunch of old-book geeks to others. “But so am I,” she smiled to herself. It had just been a long time since she’d had to get to know a new group of people, geeky or otherwise, and the constant newness of the social interactions left her mentally exhausted most evenings, so that she’d been going upstairs and crashing on her new bed almost as soon as she got home.

  The mansion was starting to feel like home, now that she had a bed and dresser. She had also bought an over-sized leather club chair and ottoman for the study, along with an extra side table and a couple more lamps.

  “You can’t keep hiding in your room,” Ridley had said knowingly during one of their early phone conversations. “It sounds like Winston spends more time with them than you do. You’re not intruding on them,” he added, anticipating her objections. “They invited you to live there; they want to spend time with you.”

  She sighed. “I guess.”

  “Have you been working out?” he demanded.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “I found the campus rec center and I’ve been going right after work.”

  “Good Marine,” he said.

  She heard a voice in the background. “Say hi to George for me.” George had been there a lot lately as she and Ridley had talked. No word yet on whether he had spent the night, but Beryl took it as an encouraging sign that Ridley was trusting him enough to spend this much time with him.