Sara’s face broke into a smile as she held up her left hand. “I’m engaged!”
Katherine squealed and grabbed Sara, giving her a hug. “That’s fantastic! Tell me about it. What happened? Did he get down on one knee?”
As they walked through the terminal, Sara described what had happened.
“It was so sweet, and so funny. It was on New Year’s Eve. We went out to the Tidal Basin to watch the fireworks at midnight. Well, there was a huge crowd.”
“I can imagine!”
“We were standing off to the side a little, and all of a sudden, Will disappeared. I looked down, and he was on his knee—he asked me to marry him. Everyone standing around heard what he was saying. There was a huge pause. All of the talking around us stopped, and when I said yes, people started clapping and cheering.”
“I wish I had seen it.”
“Will took out my ring,” she looked down at her hand, “but as he started to put it on my finger, he dropped it.”
“Oh, no!”
“It rolled away, into the crowd. Everyone was looking for it. Will was crawling around on his hands and knees.”
“What happened?”
“A little boy, about six years old, I think, suddenly shouted, ‘I’ve got it!’ He brought the ring to me, and Will slipped it on my finger.”
“Aw. That is sweet.”
“He gave the little boy five dollars.”
As they continued on, walking toward the car, Sara described their wedding plans, culminating with her telling Katherine that she and Becky would be her maids of honor.
***
They arrived at their apartment to find Becky, a ring shining on her finger, too. The three of them dashed out to the stores, Katherine to buy pizza, while Becky and Sara snapped up copies of every bridal magazine in sight.
Then they spent the evening paging through the magazines, talking about the proposals, and discussing plans for the impending weddings. Becky was planning her wedding near Thanksgiving, while Sara was thinking of just after Christmas. Katherine sat back and watched as her best friends rambled on about their wedding plans.
“Where will you be married, Sara?” Becky took a bite of her pizza.
“At the cathedral in Washington, of course.”
“The National Cathedral? That’s one big church. How many people are you going to invite?”
Sara gave an exasperated sigh. “We’ll have the wedding at the Cathedral, in one of the chapels. They’re larger than a lot of churches.” She chuckled. “Dad would have a coronary if I told him we would fill the entire cathedral.” She picked up a piece of pizza. “How about you? Old North Church in Boston? That’s where your family goes to church.”
“I suppose. I had expected Anthony to propose last fall, you know.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Guys can be so frustrating. Anyway, I was hoping for an outdoor wedding on the Common. It will be a bit too cold for that at Thanksgiving, I think.”
“You could have the wedding in August,” Sara suggested.
Becky laughed and waved her off. “No way on earth my mother can pull off a wedding in eight months. No, it’ll be the church in November.” She took a drink of Coke. “How about your honeymoon?”
“Aspen, definitely. We both love to ski, and Aspen will be beautiful in the snow.”
Becky leaned forward. “Skiing? On your honeymoon?”
“Why not? What are you going to do?”
Becky smirked. “We plan to be inside most of the time.” Sara hit her with a pillow and they both dissolved in laughter.
Katherine had remained quiet, deciding that discussion of a third proposal was not necessary. She sat to the side, nibbling at her dinner, smiling when it was appropriate, saying nothing unless one of the others asked a question. She tried not to think about Bill.
The party broke up just before midnight.
“Katherine, I’m sorry.” Becky hugged her. “We spent the entire evening talking about weddings and we didn’t even ask about your vacation.”
“Oh, no.” Katherine held up her hands in protest. “I had a wonderful Christmas. Nothing to compete with an engagement, though. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
Her roommates headed for bed, each carrying one of the magazines to read while falling asleep. As their doors closed, Katherine let the smile fade from her face. She tossed the pizza boxes and empty bottles into the trash. Then she sat on the sofa, buried her face in her arms, and sobbed quietly.
***
Three weeks had passed, and Katherine had heard nothing from anyone in Hamilton—including Bill. She had stopped jumping every time the telephone rang and she no longer dreaded the mail carrier’s arrival.
“It’s freezing!” She hurried inside and shut the door firmly behind her.
“Wish you were in Virginia?” Becky laughed.
“It’s just as cold in Dixie. I checked. I need some hot tea.” Katherine dropped her coat on a chair and headed for the kitchen.
“You had a call.”
“Really? Who was it?”
Becky looked up from her copy of Modern Bride.
“That bastard, Bill Wilson. He said he is in Boston, something to do with his campaign. I didn’t exactly understand what he was saying. He’s flying home tomorrow; wants you to meet him at the airport. To talk about the proposal? Didn’t make a lot of sense, but I said I would pass it along.”
“I guess I’d better call.”
“You’re going to see that man again?”
Katherine felt a lump in her throat, and she blinked back the tears that had started to cloud her vision. She had not told her roommates about Bill’s proposal, or his implied threat. Having heard nothing from him, she had hoped their conversation had been only a trial balloon, and that her demand that he take her home, her silence as they drove into town, and the slam of the car door when they reached her parents’ house had punctured it.
“I suppose.”
“You are going to jump when that man calls for the rest of your life? Who cares what he says about you? Let him talk. Let all of Hamilton, all of Virginia, talk about you. You don’t live there anymore.”
“My mother—”
“Will get over it.”
Katherine shook her head. “My mother would never get over it. I know her. She would claim that she was all right, but no, she wouldn’t be.” She sighed. “Let me call. He did leave a number?”
***
Katherine arrived at the airport early. She sat at the café near Bill’s gate, staring idly through the large window as the airplanes arrived and departed. Flakes of snow swirled in the wind. She shivered—even inside the terminal she felt chilled.
She had been in New York for less than a year, and she had expected to be there longer, but her life was changing. Her roommates would both be married by this time next year, and she would be alone. She would need either to find replacements or move to a smaller apartment. She had known Becky and Sara since college, and she did not relish the idea of living with strangers. And a new apartment might be hard to find, especially one that was in a nice part of the city, with good neighbors, one she could afford on her own. Neither alternative was attractive.
In spite of Aunt Emma’s protest that she and her father were only in their mid-fifties, her parents were getting older—her mother was only now fully recovered from the accident and Katherine felt the need to be closer to them.
Home was beginning to look very good, indeed.
He arrived and they sat in the terminal. There, Bill repeated his proposal.
“Dr. Nelson was quite impressed. He will discuss salary next time you’re in town.”
“Shouldn’t he be telling all of this to me? It’s my career.”
Bill just smiled and continued on, as if she had not interrupted. “In March maybe, when the engagement is announced. The wedding can be in August? September, maybe?”
Katherine stared at the people rushing past them. Were any of these random strangers going th
rough something as awful as she was? She thought, not likely.
“Work on our house will start next month. We can be in by November, before the holidays.” He put his coffee cup on the table and leaned toward her. “Katherine, I’m not asking for much. A few parties, receptions, rallies. After the election, I’ll be in DC most of the time. You can do anything you want. Anything at all,” he repeated.
“This is all about the election.”
“It’s because I love you—I always have.”
Katherine glared at him, daring him to deny it, and he dropped his eyes.
“Okay. The timing is about the election, but not the proposal.”
“I told you I would think about it.”
“Everyone at home—I mean everyone—expects a wedding announcement really soon. You know how people in Hamilton talk. I mean, given all of the speculation, like I said, I can’t just say ‘Sorry, there will be no wedding.’ Of course you understand.”
Katherine knew too well what he meant. She picked up her purse, ready to leave. “You really know the way to a woman’s heart, Bill.”
***
Katherine wandered aimlessly around the apartment, not able to light in one place. Sighing, she peered through the window, paced some more, and then straightened the kitchen counter. She picked up the telephone, started to dial, then replaced the receiver. She walked back through the living room, arranging pillows on the sofa. She was straightening bric-a-brac on the bookcase when Becky walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry.
“Short hair is wonderful,” she declared.
Katherine finished arranging the bookcase and then turned toward Becky.
“What are you doing, Katherine?”
“Nothing. Just nervous. Anxious, I guess.” She glanced through the window again. “Have you seen Steven?”
“Steven? No, I haven’t seen him since Christmas.” Becky started toward her bedroom. “Didn’t he go to England? You told me you saw him at the airport.”
“He should be back by now.”
“Maybe his plans changed.”
“Maybe. I’ve been trying to call him, but he doesn’t answer.”
“You’ve been calling Steven?” Becky’s face brightened.
Sara came bustling through the door. “Will it never get warm again? Did you say that you’ve been calling Steven? Tell me more.”
“The telephone just rings and rings—he doesn’t answer. I called his office and Martine snapped at me. She said he wasn’t in, didn’t offer to take a message, didn’t say when he would be back. I mean, she just hung up before I could ask anything.” She sank onto the sofa. “I really need to talk to him.”
***
It was almost midnight and Steven sped along a short stretch of the M40, on his way from Cambridge to Oxford, having delivered his lectures a second time, at Kings College, Cambridge. He would spend the next week assisting Professor Spence in evaluating three Greek icons that were said to date from the fourth century. Such works were rare and it would take quite a bit of evidence to convince him that these were authentic.
As he drove, he thought about his conversation with Martine that morning. He’d found her in a foul mood when he had called.
“He’s trying to steal you away from us, Steven, that Professor Spence of yours!” she had said. “Two weeks you were supposed to be gone—it has already been over three, and it will soon be February.”
“Good morning to you, Martine.” Steven had laughed. “Or should I say afternoon, since it is after three here?” He had asked what was going on at the Museum.
Martine had snorted before she replied. “Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s January. It’s cold. People don’t visit museums when it’s cold. No new programs, no plans. This is a very boring place when you are not here. When will you be back?”
Steven had reminded her that he would return at the end of the week, and Martine had offered to tell Susanne that he would call. “She’ll make you forget the she-devil,” she had said.
Steven had laughed again. “She-devil? Katherine?”
“The same, the one who broke your heart. She should go back to hell from where she came.”
He had started to tease her, but she’d cut him off, telling him that the she-devil in question had called him earlier that day. When he’d asked why she had called, Martine sniffed. “She did not say. It was not a long call.”
“You hung up on her?”
“She is beneath my notice.”
He laughed now, remembering. So typical of Martine. Still, he wondered why Katherine had called. Over the last month, he had thought about her less frequently. He had enjoyed Christmas with his mother and younger sister. Katherine had seemed—he wanted to say, cold or disinterested—when he’d seen her at the airport. Then, Anna met him in London. She now lectured at one of the smaller colleges at Oxford. She was not married, still interested in Steven. They had dinner together at Professor Spence’s house the evening before he left for Cambridge.
During that dinner, Mrs. Spence, the professor’s wife, had recalled that Steven and Anna had known each other when Steven was an instructor at Oxford.
Anna had responded that they not only had known each other, but that they had dated. “Although not nearly as much as I would have liked,” she’d said, squeezing Steven’s hand.
“He always seemed distracted, like he was thinking of someone else.”
One would never accuse Anna of subtlety, Steven had thought, returning her smile.
“I can’t imagine how he would have been able to think of anyone else when he was with you, my dear,” Professor Spence had added.
Anna had laughed then, saying that he no longer seemed distracted, and then postulated that American women must be cold, before snuggling against him.
Professor Spence had agreed with Anna and had suggested that she would have to help him persuade Steven to return to Oxford. He’d turned to Steven and winked. “I believe we can arrange an appointment for next fall.”
Anna had agreed to do her best.
Steven smiled as he recalled taking her home after dinner. Anna had hoped to sleep with him that night, he could tell, but he did not have to deal with that since she’d had a bit too much to drink, and she was almost asleep when she and Steven reached her flat. He’d almost had to carry her up the steps.
Martine would not like Anna, Steven decided. She would see her as a part of Professor Spence’s campaign to attract him to return. Perhaps she was. He shook his head. No, the Professor didn’t think like that.
Anna had grown up a lot in the last two years, no longer acting like a silly little girl, and he’d enjoyed her company even more than he had before. They were going to the theater on Friday. A proper date. Perhaps things would be different between them this time, if he were to return to Oxford.
***
An hour later, Sara put down the telephone and turned to Katherine. “I talked to my friend, Nancy, the one who works at the Museum. Steven went home for Christmas, and then he flew to England.”
Katherine nodded—she knew this.
“He’s still there. He delivered his lectures, gave them a second time in Cambridge, and he’s returning to Oxford to help his old professor with some project. The story is that Martine is furious. She believes that they want him to leave the Museum, to go back to Oxford, and she blames you for the fact that he seems to be considering it.”
“Me?”
“I you hadn’t dumped him—”
Katherine started to object, but Sara raised her hand to stop her. “Her word, not mine—if you hadn’t dumped him, he would have rushed home to New York, she says. She calls you a she-devil.”
He hadn’t returned yet. Katherine felt let down. “I really want to talk to him.”
“Seems like there is a girl in Oxford, one he used to date, who is hanging around, too. Martine thinks she is part of some plot.”
Katherine dropped her face into her hands, groaning loudly.
“Is this abo
ut your meeting with the cretin last week?” Becky asked.
“Yes.” Katherine wanted to cry.
“Tell us what happened,” Becky said.
Katherine stood to leave. “I’m going to bed.”
Becky blocked her path. “Tell us what happened. What did he say?”
Katherine turned away and crossed her arms. “He wants to marry me.”
“He what? Bastard!”
Katherine plopped back onto the sofa and told them the entire story, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, unable to escape the chill. “He’s coming to New York in a couple of weeks to finalize the plans. He’ll bring a ring. The public announcement will occur at the first of March.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Becky screamed.
“You agreed to this?” Sara’s eyes dilated and her mouth fell open. Her lips moved, but no words came out.
“No, not exactly. Not definitely. But it’s moving so fast.”
Becky took Katherine’s head between her hands. “You love Steven Richardson,” she said slowly. “You cannot marry this other, this other person.”
“Marriage is about your life, your whole life, not just about love.”
“Don’t give me that trash! You’ll be spending your whole life with a rapist, a wild animal.” She shook Katherine by her shoulders. “You’re going to have his children.”
“I need to talk to Steven. If I knew…” She stood and turned away. “It makes no difference.” She looked back. “He’s really not that bad—Bill. He was drunk, you know. He’s sorry.”
Becky stood with her hands on her hips. “He’s every bit that bad—and he’s a liar!”
“It was my fault. No one else will marry me.”
“What a pile of manure! You know it is! I can’t believe you swallowed that line.”
“People expect us to get married. He can’t just say that we’re not. He’ll have to give an explanation, tell them why I’m not good enough.” She hung her head. “I’m simply not going to have a choice.”
***
The Handfasting Page 21
