by Alice Ward
I remembered Dad and more and more of the closeness we had. Mother, I wasn’t so clear about, and since she wasn’t there and didn’t seem to be held in particularly high esteem, perhaps that’s for the best, at least for the time being. There were faces that crept in and I looked about the house and my room for clues as to who they were.
Gradually, the pieces came and the puzzle was more and more complete. There was, however, still the question of the man to whom I was married. There was something I was resisting and it frustrated and blocked me. I tried to talk to him about it one day.
“Worth?” I tapped on his study door and he immediately opened it. His was a room of modern lines and cool colors. So unlike what appealed to me. Was this why I felt a distance? Were we so unalike?
“You don’t have to knock, sweetheart,” he said and I felt a chill down my spine by his term of endearment. I tried not to let on. He motioned for me to take a chair and I slid into the one closest to me. “What’s up?” He gave me his full attention.
“I’m not sure how to express this, and I know I might hurt your feelings in what I’m about to say, but I’m begging you to please not take this personally and to respect that I can’t help it.” I thought I’d had this rehearsed, and that’s exactly how it was sounding, but yet I didn’t want it to.
His eyes grew darker and a slight frown lined his face. I knew I’d already hurt him with those words alone. “What is it?” he asked kindly.
“I’m beginning to remember more and more now,” I began and this brought a smile to his face. I hated that it would soon fade, but there was no way around it.
“The thing is,” I continued, “there seems to be certain parts that I’m not able to remember. I don’t know why, but they just won’t come to me.”
“Auggie, there’s no rush. Don’t pressure yourself. It will all come back in time. It has to follow an order that is similar to the original timeline. One thing will lead to the next, and so on.” He was trying to be kind and professional at the same time. I got that. He had a fluorescent lamp on his desk and its blinking was irritating me, grabbing my focus.
“The thing is, Worth, most of what I don’t remember has to do with you.” There, I said it and I watched the verbal arrow cross the room and find its target. His face fell and his shoulders sagged. It was apparent that this wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear.
“I see,” he murmured, then the doctor in him took over. “Do you have any idea why that might be?”
“Well, I was sort of hoping you might be able to help me with that,” I began with uncertainty.
“In what sense?” he ventured.
“Worth, were we… close?”
He nodded, as though suddenly understanding. “Yes, Auggie, we were close. Very close. We were very much in love. In fact, we made love the night before the accident. We were on a mini-vacation. You’d been a bit depressed and I felt we needed some time away for the two of us. Ford had just begun the military school and it was you and me for the first time in years. Yes, Auggie, we were very, very close.”
“I see,” I answered and almost wished it hadn’t been as he’d said.
“Does that bother you?” he asked with a hurtful hesitance.
“In a way. It’s because I don’t know how to feel about you. Something’s holding me back and I have no idea what it is. I know I should love you. I swear it’s killing me to say this, but I don’t.” There. It was on the table.
I saw him wince, a visible reaction to a palpable emotion he’d been keeping under wraps. He’d been trying not to pressure me. He’d been hoping for the best. I could tell he loved me and I hated that I wasn’t able to respond in kind. What was wrong with me? What had happened? What was I blocking out?
Worth cleared his throat, buying time to think of what to say. I knew I was putting him in a horrible spot. “Auggie, does it bother you to be here, in this house, with me?”
I had to be honest. There was no point in starting all this emotional trouble and then to hide my true feelings.
“A little,” I admitted and watched him flinch again.
“Are you afraid I’ll, well, invade your privacy?” he tried, hoping against hope that there was a compromise to be had in this room.
“You’ve been quite the gentleman,” I acknowledged, hoping to set that part of our relationship aside for the time being.
He leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Well, then what seems to bother you about it?”
“It’s hard to express. It’s almost a feeling of guilt. I know I’m your wife and I know that entails being with someone in multiple ways. But I don’t seem to have the need, or even the desire, for that. I know it’s cheating you, but—”
“No!” he interrupted. “This isn’t about me. I love you, Auggie, and nothing will ever interfere with that. It’s a given. You aren’t ‘cheating’ me of anything. Absolutely, I would love to have things back the way they were, but I’m a realist. You’ve suffered trauma. You’re under no obligation to me. I’m here because I love you, and nothing more.”
“I don’t want you to love me!” I cried out, the words thrusting their way from my throat. My eyes panned the room for something soft and familiar on which to rest. “I can’t return your love and it’s making me feel too guilty. There’s something in the way, something blocking that particular memory. I feel that as long as I’m here, I’ll continue to feel guilty and it will never have a chance of coming back! Don’t you see? I need to be away from you to know how to think of you!”
He got it then. It hit him hard and he recoiled, slamming backward in his chair. “Are you saying you want me to leave?” he asked, sounding every bit like a hurt child.
“I don’t think so,” I answered and he relaxed a bit. “I think I need to leave you.”
The words were there, hanging between us. It was the culmination of all his worst nightmares. I knew this. It was all there to be seen.
The voice that came from him next lacked the softness and tenderness of the preceding weeks. It was businesslike. “What would you like to do, Auggie?”
“I need to move out, somewhere, maybe an apartment. At least for a while. I need time and space to myself. No pressure to remember, no pressure to feel something I might not normally feel. Just to be completely alone.”
He considered this, his hands in a prayer-like clasp upon which he balanced his chin. At last, he spoke. “Very well, Auggie. I want you to be happy, even if it means that you’re away from me. We have a condo; we bought it together just before we got married. Mother lived in it for a while until she married your dad. It’s in town and empty; not even any furniture.”
My heart broke and yet soared at the same time. It was a difficult feeling to understand.
“I’ll give you the keys to your car, if you feel comfortable driving. If not, we’ll ask Bernie to move in there with you. There’s plenty of room; five bedrooms. Move in there… for now. Take your time and your space and do whatever you wish with it.”
He leaned forward and I willed myself not to back away.
“But remember this, Auggie. I love you and want you in my life. We had a very good life together. There’s nothing evil that you’re blocking out. There’s nothing to be frightened of. This is just the last piece of the puzzle you have yet to remember. When you’re ready, you call me. I’ll come over — at your invitation only — and we’ll begin again. Then, if the time comes that you want more, you’re always welcomed to move back here with me.”
He swallowed hard and his face crumpled for only the smallest second. Then he was business again.
“In the meantime, I’ll stay here and provide the family atmosphere for Ford when he’s home. I will keep our life here status quo. I won’t reach out until you reach for me first. Will that do it?”
I cringed a little at the hardness of his voice. I knew this was a man who was better loved than hated. “That will be fine. I’ll leave immediately if you’ll give me the keys, some money, and di
rections.”
I knew I’d taken his breath away. I hated to do that. Yet, I was finally breathing fresh air. Freedom was within reach and I needed it so, so badly.
“Go and pack your bags,” he said. “I’ll send someone up to help you and alert Bernie. Will he be staying with you?”
“Please.”
He nodded and turned back to his desk. His hands were shaking. He seemed to be fighting for control. I owed him to break down privately. There was nothing more to be said. I stood up, put my hand on his shoulder and left his life.
Part III
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Auggie
I threw open the door to the condo and went in to have a look around. I remembered the space, the building, and the location, but none of the memories of the time I’d spent there with Worth. It was as if that time had never taken place.
I rented a motel room for the interim while the condo was refurbished. I couldn’t stand to stay at the estate one day more. It was too hard to see the resigned slump in Worth’s shoulders as he tried to deal with the fact that I didn’t want to be around him. I knew it would hurt me, too, so I left quietly and immediately.
Once I moved in, Bernie would be staying with me for a couple of weeks, until I felt comfortable in my surroundings. Then he’d go back to being my assistant and I supposed, my primary intermediary between myself and my husband and son. I had to respect, however, that Bernie had a life of his own.
I decided the décor of the condo had to be completely and utterly me; feminine and without the least bow to male habitation. I needed to recover the injured me inside before I could become an addendum to someone else’s life. I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I felt as though I was possessed.
We were taking measurements when there was a knock at the door. Bernie opened it and welcomed the guest. While he looked familiar to me, Bernie introduced him as Jeremy, Worth’s friend. He was an interior designer and Worth had sent him with instructions of carte blanche; to give me absolutely anything and everything I wanted. Still a bit shaky from my recovery, the idea of having someone else handle this for me, particularly someone who had connections and could oversee it in a rapid manor, appealed to me greatly.
Jeremy invited Bernie and me to lunch at a nearby restaurant and he brought out his iPad to begin giving me interior design tours to determine my taste and color preferences. I ordered everything to be French Country; lots of color and feminine touches. He seemed sort of excited at the challenge. I suspected he did altogether too many Danish moderns to really let loose his creative spirit.
Jeremy’s staff didn’t waste an hour’s time. They descended on the condo with workmen of every description. Out went carpets and flooring completely, and the modern, glass fireplace was ripped out, disappearing in a huge dumpster parked below. In came stained glass, Queen Anne and furnishings in white with splashes of coral, purple, navy and citrine. Luckily, Worth and I owned the entire building so there was no committee to get permission from. The sleek glass tiles in the bathrooms were removed, replaced by hand-painted white with elaborate murals painted on ceilings and behind the bed in what would be my bedroom. Bleached hardwood was put down throughout and then covered with Aubusson rugs that reached beneath the floral, ruffled and overstuffed furnishings. Sounds systems were embedded in the walls and a flag screen television was installed in most rooms as the back of a revolving 18th century oil painting. The kitchen was outfitted with a massive sink and a La Cornue Grand Palais range with six burners. Copper pots sparkled from their overhead rack and wine bottles filled the temperature-controlled section of the walk-in cooler with wooden door. A center island of specially-fitted butcher block gave an authentic French feel. Bay windows were installed and filled with plants while black wrought iron decorated street side windows and balconies with window boxes filled with ivy and vivid flowers.
My king-sized bed was placed on a dais and canopied with side curtains that could be drawn against the bright sunlight when I wanted to rest throughout the day. I converted one of the bedrooms into a walk-in closet and asked for upholstered benches and shelving to hold my many pairs of shoes and boots. While I wasn’t much for jewelry, I did have a wall safe installed to hold what little I had, as well as the cash I would keep on hand.
One wall in the living room was fitted with sandwich glass and a constant veil of water fell between the panes, landing in a pool with koi fish at the base. There were aviaries cut into the walls and tropical birds flitted within while huge potted palms, birds of paradise and other tropical plants filled in the open spaces.
My favorite was an overstuffed, vintage tufted sofa covered in floral silk and its matching tufted ottoman that was nearly five feet in diameter.
Heavy drapes pooled on the carpets, their linings matching the pillows scattered about. Jeremy had discovered a stuffed peacock which took a place of honor before the fireplace, its irons of polished brass gleaming in the firelight.
I was utterly delighted with the outcome and didn’t want to leave. Jeremy was even quite pleased with himself, I could tell. Bernie asked if he could live with me permanently. There could be no higher praise.
I moved in and found that everything made me feel so comfortable and so familiar. It was an excellent tonic. Bernie stayed a couple of weeks to check up on me and then disappeared to an on-call basis. I knew Worth was watching out for me, albeit through the help of other people.
***
It was then that I received quite the unexpected visitor.
Margaret LaViere Langford had become my mother-in-law when I married Worth and later my step-mother when she married my father. She had asked me to call her Margaret, and I obliged.
The doorbell rang and I peeped through the security camera lens to see her standing on my porch. I opened the door and hugged her, waving her in. I remembered her and how kind she had always been to me.
“Please, make yourself at home while I make us some tea,” I invited.
“Thank you, dear,” she nodded but hugged me again before she sat down.
Once we were settled with a hand-painted teacup each of raspberry tea and a plate of small cookies between us, she asked after me.
“How are you doing, dear?” Her voice was sincerely interested and I didn’t feel that she was there to spy for Worth.
“I’m very happy to be here at the moment,” I began. “I miss Ford, but then he’s away at school, so it really doesn’t matter where I’m living. He’ll still be out of reach.”
“You’ve done a beautiful job with the re-decorating. I loved it here, too, when you and Worth let me live here, after his father…” she trailed off the remainder of that sentence.
“Margaret, part of my recovery is that I’ve decided to allow nothing but the blunt truth in my life. I feel as though we are all throttled by politely overlooking realities. It builds up and it’s not healthy.”
“Yes, dear, I quite agree with you.” She set her cup down and patted her lips with a coral and white striped cloth napkin. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here. I think it’s time that you and I talked. I know Worth fills in the gaps for you as best as he can, but he has a bit of bias. I thought you might appreciate a woman’s point of view.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything better. No holds barred?” I suggested.
“Go for it,” she agreed.
I hoped I wouldn’t cross any lines that would hurt her, but there was a great deal at stake. “Why did you stay with Worth’s father after the way he cheated on you?”
“Right on target, I like that,” she smiled. “Worth, and now I’m referring to your husband’s father, was a powerful man with an even more powerful vision of himself. He was born into money and felt entitled to everything and anything the world could provide. He didn’t care if it was legal or moral; if he wanted it, he got it. He simply took it. Apparently, he saw me at the Fillies Ball one Derby and decided I would make good breeding stock, as he called it. He set his mind to win me
and he was an awesome force to be reckoned with if he truly wanted his way.”
She circled a finger around the rim of her cup, seeming to be lost in her memories.
“My father didn’t like Worth,” she continued, lines creasing her forehead. “He thought he was spoiled, willful and unprincipled; a lethal combination. As it turned out, that’s exactly what he was. He was lethal, on more than one occasion, but had the strings and contacts that got him out of mess after mess. Once I agreed to marry him, I was done for. There was no way I could be free of him. So, I did what all wives in that position must do. I made the best of things.”
“That must have been very difficult,” I said
She sighed. “When he left for long periods and was with other women, I considered it a relief. He was out of my hair and I, when out from beneath his supervision, could do as I pleased. Then he would return and the world became his again. I smiled at the right times, submitted as I needed to for children and otherwise stayed out of the way without him realizing how invisible I’d made myself. It was survival, Auggie, nothing more.”
“How did you stand it?”
“You see, being Mrs. Worthington LaViere afforded me a certain lifestyle. It wasn’t just the money; it was the fear of God that he put into others. No one crossed me. I was always invited to the best events, always recognized for the events I hosted and always mentioned first in the guest list. No one dared to do otherwise. That’s the privileges of being married to the devil, dear. No one, absolutely no one, crosses you.”
“Wasn’t that frightening?”
“Of course it was! I had problems with him. He drank too much and wasn’t above backhanding me or throwing me to the floor. When he wanted sex, he had sex, whether I was in the mood or not. There was no romancing, no consideration for my sensibilities. I was his possession. Nothing more than the livestock in the barn, and in many cases, probably worth even less in his opinion.”
“So, he had no enemies?”
“Oh, I won’t say that. He got tangled up in some nasty business out on the coast and some gentlemen in the Midwest wanted to see his headstone. But he got out of it — he always did. Then there was Linc.”
