It All Comes Back to You

by Beth Duke

  Later, she curled into a ball on her bed at Aunt Jean’s and refused to eat or drink. She wanted to die, so her body obliged.

  Aunt Jean took her to the doctor’s office for a postpartum check a week after Violet came home. Her temperature was 103.6 degrees. They readmitted her to the hospital immediately and gave her antibiotics for puerperal fever. And Violet lost two more things: the opportunity to die and the ability to conceive children.

  By 1949, she was back living in her parents’ house and working as a hostess in a nice restaurant downtown. Alice Glenn never suspected what her daughter endured in Florida. It simply would not have dared to enter her mind. Violet used her only job qualification—homecoming queen skills—to charm customers each evening at The Annistonian. She flirted without intention, smiled without happiness, and extended the politeness and hospitality that were her birthright. On Saturday nights after work, she’d sometimes go to a movie with Harvey Hughes, an Army lieutenant stationed at nearby Fort McClellan. He was from Indiana, three years older than Violet, and called her “my beautiful Southern belle.” He told her over and over he wanted to marry her and settle in Alabama permanently. Violet would laugh and shake her head each time. She said, “The novelty will wear off, Harvey. You’ll forget me when you’re transferred.”

  He never did, even after Violet left him for Tolly.

  She’d been so ready to try to begin a new life; to try to put the horrible Florida memories behind her. Tolly was handsome, successful, and wealthy. He impressed her parents, reached for her hand, placed a ring upon it and arranged a wedding before Violet could object.

  She heard Bitsy Cunningham and Theresa Wiley discussing their children, sharing school photos and attempting to top each other with stories of good grades, mischief, Sunday School attendance and vegetable rejection. She felt tears welling and closed her eyes, trying to block the thoughts she could never escape.

  What would she look like now? Did she have her father’s red hair and easy laugh? Did she do well in school? Had they told her she was adopted?

  A month after they met, Tolly mentioned casually that he didn’t want children—in the manner others might state an aversion to cats or parakeets. She’d looked into Tolly’s dark blue eyes and summoned the courage to tell him all about her baby daughter. She sobbed as she told her story, ending with the fever that left her barren. He held her close until she quieted. Then he lifted her chin with an index finger and said, “Please marry me.”

  Violet had been asking herself if she could marry anyone her own age, knowing she could never offer him children. She decided God had given her an opportunity to be Mrs. Tolliver Thompson instead. She would start over. She would be the wife of a wealthy doctor, spending her days by the country club pool and shopping at the fanciest stores.

  How far out of the lines she’d colored that picture.

  Violet shook her head and checked her watch. Genny caught her gaze and held up a bottle of chardonnay and her eyebrows, hurrying over with a refill in response to Violet’s smile. She settled next to her in a red velvet chair, collapsing elegantly and folding her ankles.

  “You’re really sweet to host this, Violet. It’s a lot to take on.”

  “Not really. Besides, I was promised my pick of placement in return. I’m going to see if there’s a Napping Committee.”

  “I’ll join you if there is.” Genny surveyed the room. “They’re almost done. Bitsy apologized for running behind, though it’s only about ten minutes.”

  “Bitsy apologizes if someone bumps into her. She apologizes for her hair color, for heaven’s sake.”

  Genny shook her head. “That’s just Bitsy. Her husband has convinced her she’s responsible for all that’s wrong in the world. It’s sad.”

  Violet said, “Yes, it is.” She wondered what time Tolly would get home. “Let’s see if we can help wrap things up.” She clinked her glass to Genny’s and rose to begin hinting at the crowd around the refreshment table. “Melanie,” she said, “Won’t you take some of this cake home to your family?”

  Fifteen minutes later she and Genny had graciously dismissed everyone with hugs and food packages. They were clearing the table when Violet heard Tolly’s car enter the garage. She told Genny, “I’ll finish this—there’s practically nothing to do. Thank you for all your help.” She handed her friend a small, gift-wrapped box she’d hidden earlier. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just chocolates.”

  Genny laughed and hugged her. “Chocolates no one knows about but me. Do you know what a rare and precious gift this is? Better than diamonds and gold and a sable bedspread, Vi. I love you.” She made a tiny finger waggle and gathered her purse, tucking the present inside. Violet smiled, then closed her eyes and prayed Genny would be out the front door quickly.

  She carried a stack of dishes to the kitchen and began washing them, one eye on the hallway to the garage door. As her husband rounded the corner she sucked in her stomach and plastered a smile onto her face.

  Tolly looked happy, she thought. She exhaled a little as he pecked her cheek.

  “I’m starving,” he announced.

  “You didn’t eat at the club?” It was a silly question. Tolly had no doubt been sitting in the bar all night. He was swaying slightly.

  “No, I wasn’t hungry earlier. How did your meeting go?” He fixed his stare on the serving platters and bowls stacked on the counter, then swiped a finger through some chocolate frosting. He licked it off and gathered more, which he dragged down her left cheek.

  “Tolly...”

  “What, dear? I’m just being playful. You always say I’m too ser-ee-ous.” He slapped her butt hard enough to sting. “I’m going to change clothes. Will you cook me a steak and baked potato?”

  “That will take a while, Tolly. Wouldn’t you rather have a nice chicken salad sandwich?”

  Genny swung the kitchen door open. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. I can’t find my keys. Hi, umm, Tolliver, nice to see you, oh there they are next to the refrigerator, goodnight y’all.” Genny was backing out of the room.

  “Don’t be so quick to leave, Genevieve,” Tolly said, eyes glittering. “Come tell me what you and my lovely wife did tonight. Explain the mysteries of your cult to me.”

  “Tolly, please, Genny needs to get home to her kids.” Violet dried her hands and swiped the frosting off her face. She moved to walk Genny out, but Tolly halted her with a hand to her abdomen.

  “Oh,” Genny said, “It’s all pretty boring stuff. Just girl talk and nibbling on snacks.”

  “Then you all can have your goddam meetings in someone else’s house. I thought y’all were doing something worthwhile.” Tolly made an exaggerated shrug and laughed, adding, “Not really.” He sneered at Genny and headed toward the staircase.

  Violet waited until he was out of sight and walked to Genny’s side. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “He’s had a rough day.”

  Genny was crying. “Violet, you don’t have to stay here. Come with me.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Violet opened the massive oak door. “He’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Genny walked into the night with a backward glance, promising to telephone in the morning. Violet stood stock-still, too embarrassed to move. “Drive safely,” she called, closing and locking the door.

  She selected a frying pan for the steak and placed a large potato in the sink to scrub. She was turning on the oven when Tolly entered the kitchen. He leaned against a far wall, arms folded, and watched her work.

  Violet said, “How was the hospital today?”

  “One of my patients bled out. It was swell.” Tolly rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Can’t trust the nurses to do their fucking jobs.”

  “Oh, Tolly,” Violet struggled for the right words. “I am so sorry. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

  “You are truly stupid, Violet. Of course I did everything I could in the OR. This was post-op. If the nurses had been watching him closely, the outcome might’ve been different.” Tol
ly crossed to the pantry to retrieve the bourbon he kept behind a flour canister.

  “Where were you?”

  “What the hell do you mean, where was I? Was I supposed to sit with him and his wife?”

  “No, Tolly, of course not,” Violet searched the refrigerator for the sirloin steak. “I just wondered...” She didn’t hear him approaching. Something slammed into her side, and she toppled to the floor. She looked up at Tolly, the potato gripped in his hand. He pulled her up and said, “You should know better than to accuse me.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Tolly, nothing at all. I didn’t mean to imply...to make you mad...please, Tolly, calm down.”

  He answered by beating her in all the perfect, well-hidden, non-fatal places on her body with the potato, then throwing it at her head as he left the room. “I’m not hungry anymore,” he said.

  seventeen

  RONNI

  I was packing my clothes and watching Rick on the dock with Kitty and Darby, the neighbor’s black Lab. The dogs leaped into the water after pieces of kibble Rick threw. Darby looked like a sleek seal flying through the air, while Kitty O’Shea thumped into the lake on her little sagging bulldog belly every time, swimming frantically to the dock for Rick’s assistance upward.

  I took a deep breath and smiled, looking around my writing sanctuary. The past two weeks had been the best of my life. I would put finishing touches on my manuscript back at the apartment, but the hard work was mostly done. I’d meet my deadline, even if the book were never published. I’ve done my best, Violet. I can’t help it if the current market demands nothing but teen vampires, werewolves, wizards, and hormonal adolescent post-apocalyptic warriors. I’d told Rick last night, “I think I’ll title it Fifty Shades of Twilight: Harry Potter’s Hunger Games. Then I might have a fighting chance.”

  I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about coming to the end of my writing journey and turning over countless hours of work to a stranger. I tried to remember what I’d done to fill my free time before Violet had settled into every waking moment.

  I think I was mostly eating and hoping for a boyfriend. Now I had him and food didn’t mean much more than fuel to me.

  And one more thing: I finally believed Violet. I was pretty. Maybe it was because I smiled at the girl in the mirror. I really liked her.

  I’d be back at Fairfield after one last weekend at the lake. I missed my patients and the feeling of competence I had at work. I missed thinking up wicked jokes with Kait.

  Being surrounded by people who were in their final years—sometimes final moments—could tear a person to pieces. Laughter was the only way we could cope. It was like the momentum needed to keep going forward on a bicycle. The humor propelled us down the halls.

  Work would be fine, but I was worried if Rick and I would get along as beautifully outside the sanctuary of the lakehouse. He’d told me last night, “I want you to meet my boys. Let’s go to Tuscaloosa soon.”

  The thought of his sons, freed from the locked room in my brain, made me start to shake. Please, God, let them be crazy about me. I would Google every possible area of interest for eight-year-old males, study them like Goodall and chimps. They would love me. I would make them love me.

  I had smiled and answered, “Sure, that would be great,” even as my insides liquified and boiled in terror. “I can’t wait to meet Joshua and Jeremy. I’ll just need some time to get caught up at home and work.”

  Liar.

  I couldn’t tell Rick that in my most recent fantasies I was already married to him and pregnant with our first child. I saw him fussing over me the same way he had at the lakehouse; breakfast in bed; the occasional bouquet of flowers, rubbing my tired feet. We’d shop for adorable tiny clothing and paint the nursery together. No, Rick wouldn’t let me paint. Too risky for the baby. I’d bake cookies instead, filling our new house with wonderful smells.

  When the baby arrived I’d use my huge check from Violet and stay home to be a full-time mom. I nuzzled the cheek of my baby girl—it was always a girl—and patted her back as I carried her across the nursery. It was tastefully furnished in pastel blues and greens. I laid her on the changing table, which Rick had built of mahogany with his own hands. The baby smiled and gurgled happily, stuffing a tiny fist into her drooling mouth.

  I held those thoughts for a minute or two before my brain slapped my heart: Rick already had a family, and was fourteen years older than I was. He’d never given me any indication he was interested in more children—it was a subject we’d both felt sitting in a corner staring at us, shaking its head and holding a finger to its lips. I always avoided any mention of marriage or children, preferring to circle a minefield that could blow us apart forever.

  I scolded myself for worrying. We loved each other. It would work out. Jeez Louise, Ronni, quit looking for trouble.

  I returned to the window. Rick and the dogs had disappeared from the dock. I listened for the door, smiling to myself, waiting to throw my arms around him. Nothing. Ten minutes later I abandoned the suitcases and headed outside. The boat was gone. How had he slithered noiselessly into the lake? Catch Me, Copper sounded like the Blue Angels were barnstorming every time Rick started the engine. It wasn’t like Mr. Military Precision to leave without checking in with me.

  I started to worry after an hour went by. I’d packed everything I could until time to leave. I called Rick’s cell and got voicemail. I texted him twice. There was no answer.

  I grabbed a glass of water and went to the dock to wait. Darby joined me, tail thumping the wood slats as she scanned the water. Fish jumped, birds screeched, mosquitoes buzzed my ears, and Darby panted in the heat.

  “Come on, girl, I’ll get you a treat. Our favorite man has apparently deserted us for a while.” I was almost back to the house when Darby began barking frantically. I heard the boat long before I saw it. When I did, I struggled to breathe and construct a welcoming smile.

  Rick was waving at me, two little boys at his side pretending to help steer.

  eighteen

  VIOLET

  He shook her shoulder very gently. Violet knew Tolly wouldn’t leave for work until she spoke to him, no matter how repulsive she found it. She opened her eyes to find him bent over her, tears streaming down his face.

  “My darling, I am so very sorry. I can’t believe I hurt you. Please forgive me, Violet. It will never happen again.” He ran a hand through his hair, and Violet noticed the gray for the first time. She shrank as he reached out to touch her face. “Please, Violet. I beg you. Give me a chance to make this up to you.”

  “There is nothing you can do, Tolly.” She buried her face in the pillow. “I’ll be gone when you come home tonight.”

  There was no response. Tolly left the bedroom, quietly closing the door. Violet turned over, every muscle in her body shrieking in pain, and went back to sleep.

  She woke to the ringing telephone a little after ten o’clock. She answered on the third ring and heard Tolly’s voice. “Yes, she’s asleep upstairs, Genny. Violet’s running a slight fever and coughing. She’s likely coming down with a nasty cold or maybe flu.” He sounded so relaxed and confident. Violet recognized Doctor Mode.

  Genny didn’t seem convinced. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Will you ask her to call me later? Maybe I’ll stop by with some chicken soup.”

  “If her voice allows it, she’ll call. I’ve told her not to talk unless absolutely necessary. Her throat is inflamed. At any rate, her mother is coming to stay with her. No need to bring soup, though that’s very kind of you. Alice will start cooking the minute she arrives, no doubt.”

  Violet was dumbstruck at the boldness of this lie. Tolly would do everything in his power to keep her from her mother.

  “Oh,” Genny said, “I’m glad she’ll have her mom to fuss over her. There’s no substitute for that. Please tell Violet I called, and to let me know if she needs anything at all.”

  “I surely will, Genny. You’re such a good friend to my wife, and I ap
preciate it. Goodbye.”

  Another lie. Tolly wanted Violet to have no friends, no family, no contact with the world unless he was at her side. She couldn’t smile at anyone more than a few seconds, male or female, without inviting a scathing comment from him. She willed herself out of bed and went downstairs. He was sitting in the den, sipping coffee.

  “I called Beatrice and told her to come in late so you could rest,” he began.

  “You really think no one’s going to find out this time?” she asked him. “I’m going to a lawyer, Tolly. We’re getting a divorce. You will never touch me again.” Violet clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. Tolly regarded her from behind his coffee cup with a tiny smile. He turned to the window and waved a hand at the manicured garden.

  “Lovely flowers. They’re all so fragile, though. I need to remind Herman to water the roses more often.” He met her eyes. “You won’t go to a lawyer, Violet. Divorce is not in my vocabulary. You and I took vows, and we will honor them.” He sighed. “You made me so angry, Violet. I lost control. I told you I’m sorry.”

  “You won’t stop me, Tolly,” Violet said. “You also won’t convince me that the monster in you is caged and released by me. I don’t believe your lies. I’m not the innocent girl you married.”

  Tolly looked like he was stifling a laugh. “Let’s not talk about your level of innocence when we met, Violet.” He paused and stared at the pattern in the carpet, as though inspiration waited there. “Did you ever wonder why I was almost forty years old before I decided to marry?”

  “You probably beat every woman you encountered. It’s not hard to understand why they weren’t eager to shop for dresses and veils, Tolly.”

  “You’re wrong. Until you came into my life, I never knew the kind of love that could make a man lose his mind. I love you so much, Violet.” He looked like he was going to cry again. Violet turned to leave.

  “Wait, Violet. You need to hear this. You will never leave me. You will never betray the secrets in our marriage to anyone, certainly not to an attorney or the police. I promise you, you won’t.”