SHADOW OF WHIMSY

by ANN HYMES

  She, too, was blooming without her father, going on without him, and there was no reversing nature’s course. Since his death at Christmas, he had been in her thoughts even more than when he was alive. They had been so close, seeing each other almost every day; but with his passing, Theresa had learned things that colored the memories. Had she been protected from the past or denied its relevance? She yearned to talk with him, to ask questions, but it was too late, and all the other voices were silent. She hoped that Whimsy Towers could shed light on the family history. Was she wise to want to unmask the dark spaces?

  Kevin left her with her thoughts. She wondered whether digging into the past would alter her feelings for her father. He and Kevin, too, had been close, often watching football or sharing tips on lawn care and stock market swings. Her father had graciously released his only child and the light of his life to the care of a husband, a young lawyer with a bright future and serious plans. Theresa loved the two men in her life.

  “Should I take some blankets?” she called down to the driveway from the bedroom window. “The house is furnished, but I don’t know about extra things. What do you think about pots and pans?”

  Kevin was pushing a large clay pot of herbs into the back of the car, wedging it between the beach chair and a huge basket of paperback books. “I think blankets are a good idea. It’s probably still cool there, especially at night. Forget kitchen stuff, though; you can pick up whatever you need.” He paused and laughed. “Are you planning to open a library?”

  Theresa wasn’t sure how to pack for a trip alone. Kevin would never haul a pot of herbs and two hanging baskets of pink petunias on a ten-hour drive, but he knew better than to question. What was reasonable to Theresa often did not register in the same way with Kevin. They had come to accept that some subjects were not worth discussing between them; the differing point of view was so certain that it would only cause hurt or stress, and neither could see the other’s side. Sometimes it was better to let go and move on, pretending there was peace.

  Theresa was still upstairs, sitting on the end of their bed. Her purse, her feather pillow, and a large straw hat with a sunflower stitched on the front lay next to her. She glanced down at her suitcases, a gift from her father when she graduated from high school. They had accompanied her the first time she had ever been away from him. Although the University of Virginia was only a couple of hours from home, the separation had been hard for them both. Each was all the family the other had. Now she was leaving behind another man who loved her and from whom she was not used to being separated. She told herself that two weeks was just enough to settle her questions and return. Can you wear out a marriage like a pair of favorite shoes? She wanted clarity, and distance was a tempting companion to escape a relationship that was suffocating.

  When her father had become ill shortly before the holidays, Theresa had watched him withdraw more and more into himself. He had rarely left his house, and if she and Kevin hadn’t tended to the snow, checked on bills, and made sure he had groceries, her father might have succeeded in becoming a model hermit. His death left her with a modest estate: his small house with its attic of things to go through, a collection of baseball cards, and a metal box of important papers. It was in this box she found the letter that would alter the future.

  For at least the hundredth time, Theresa took the letter from her purse, carefully unfolded it, and began to read the familiar handwriting.

  My dearest Theresa,

  I cannot leave you without telling you some things you have long wondered about. I do not easily revisit these details of my past, but I understand your hunger for them, and I will try to share memories that I have wanted to hide even from myself.

  Do you remember years ago when we used to walk to the park and look up into the sky at the stars? You would ask me if Mommy could see the stars. I always told you that she could see everything that was beautiful and that you were her favorite star. Your mother was so full of life and love. She saw only good in everyone she met, and her contagious joy touched all who knew her. When she was gone, my heart went to that faraway place with her, unable to be separated. Seeing so much of her in you has brightened all the stars of heaven for me.

  When we were married, your grandmother, Theodosia Hampton, was living in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, apart from her husband. As the beautiful young bride of a wealthy, older man, she had felt stifled by life in the South Carolina Lowcountry and took off for Paris in the 1920s. She came back pregnant and madly in love with a famous, and married, Left Bank artist. Her unhappy husband was an important attorney from a prominent family, and an elaborate tale was fabricated to ward off scandal. The child born to them was your mother.

  Your grandparents kept the appearance of a marriage, but a loveless understanding was the bargain they struck. Boarding school and shuffling between South Carolina and the Cape were the requirements of Emily’s childhood. Theodosia adored her only child, treasuring the time together, teaching her to ride and sail, to paint and recite poetry. The Cape Cod house brimmed with laughter and visitors, good food and conversation. Where Theodosia was, there was vitality.

  We lived happily in that house when you were a baby, until the storm came that changed everything. Clouds descended and hid the sun. Our patterns of contentment were shattered, and the road split without goodbyes.

  Storms are not uncommon off the coast of Cape Cod. Winds howl up the rugged coast, gathering trees and chunks of shoreline in their erratic dance of power. Nature has the last word on who or what survives its whims, and your mother loved the challenge of the contest.

  Late September is an exciting time for sailing. The summer residents are gone, and the open sea churns with shifts in current and wind. Your mother could not resist racing with the wild, daring the sails to pull her across the breaking waves. The sea spray, the lunging boat with straining keel pounding through the water, and the prospect of a day without destination were thrilling to her.

  But the storm was the winner the afternoon she did not come back. An offshore hurricane made an unexpected turn toward land. The skies darkened quickly with a sickening purple haze, and the wind shrieked between bolts of lightning that lit up an angry, swirling ocean. I came home early from the office and searched and waited. Theodosia held you close and read stories until you finally fell asleep in her protective arms. Bits of the boat were eventually found, but that was all.

  As the days and weeks passed, your grandmother began to hallucinate and call out to her missing daughter, warning her not to go sailing. I could no longer trust her to care for you, and I could not stay where I, too, was haunted by images at every turn. A nurse came to live with Theodosia, and I left my beloved wife in the bosom of the ocean she loved so much. She was two months pregnant with our next baby.

  Theresa, I am sorry not to have told you these things before. It seemed best for you to believe that all your grandparents were dead, but Theodosia died only four years ago. I have not seen her since the day I left with you. Her mind slowly slipped away, and she recognized no one. She was well cared for, and you were my future. It was too painful to look back.

  Theodosia rewrote her will as soon as we left, leaving her estate and home to you, her only heir, with the provision that it not pass to you until my death. Local bank trustees have cared for it these last years. I know you will love Whimsy Towers. Its walls have witnessed passion and hope and the dramas of extraordinary lives.

  My only request, dear Theresa, is that you take my ashes back to Cape Cod and scatter them in the ocean, where they will join your mother and unborn brother or sister in the cool, deep currents. And when you see the stars in the vast skies over the Atlantic Ocean, remember there are two hearts cherishing you.

  I love you, Dad

  Theresa refolded the letter and repeated the last words to herself: “… remember there are two hearts cherishing you.” Two hearts. The love of parents, the unconditional caring and
commitment that binds generations and expectation. When she had come home from college and announced that Kevin had asked her to marry him, her father had seen her happiness and asked only one question: “Does he cherish you?”

  The question had startled her, and she had not been able to answer. Kevin was thoughtful and bright; he was so earnest. He avoided the endless drunken college revelries and macho contests. He was serious about his studies and took only courses that challenged him. She loved being with him and making him laugh. Education and law were the pathway to the future for Kevin, but with very few stops along the way for diversion. He was grounded; she fluttered. She did not consider that being solid might also be boring.

  They had met in a senior seminar called “Shakespeare and the Male Ego.” Theresa spoke up in class and was full of questions and ideas; he was quiet and observing. She had curiosity and conviction and was opening her wings for flight.

  “Do you think Macbeth ever loved his wife?” she asked the professor, but looking at her fellow students. “Could they ever trust each other?”

  A lively discussion ensued about the threats to fidelity and the dangers of intimacy. Theresa wanted to explore the emotions of relationships and understand how people connected. She was not afraid to probe, but she listened respectfully to the assumptions of others. Kevin did not often speak up, but she felt him watching her, and she liked it.

  One day at the end of class, as students were leaving the room, Theresa turned to him and asked unexpectedly, “What made you take this course, Kevin?”

  They had not had any direct, personal conversation, and he stopped packing up his books in order to answer. “I’m headed to law school, and I figure a good lawyer needs to understand Hamlet, Richard III, and Macbeth. And Iago!”

  They both laughed, and Theresa thought she’d never seen such a beautiful smile. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him but quickly felt a rush of embarrassment, since she’d kissed only two boys in her life. Romance was not a familiar topic. Thinking of kissing Kevin conjured up no past experiences of lost love or broken hearts. She’d had no serious relationships. This was fresh territory, and she felt intrigued. Before she could refocus, she heard him say, “Theresa, would you like to get some dinner?”

  “Well, sure,” she answered, without hesitating.

  “Where would you like to go?” Kevin continued, looking a little lost at his own spontaneity.

  “Curry,” she said. “How about curry?”

  “Curry’s okay.”

  Theresa Crandall had opinions. She was rarely hesitant when she had an answer. Fearless women make conscious choices, when timid men often stumble through options.

  There were warning shots across the bow to let Theresa and Kevin know they were venturing into a whirlwind, but the ship was picking up steam. They dated regularly the remainder of their senior year, talking endlessly, relishing the wonder of a new relationship. She was half fascinated and half in love, and she didn’t want to face sorting out the difference. Kevin was shy and smart, and he didn’t seem to feel any need to impress her or prove himself. She felt valued and important. She liked his company.

  The physical involvement came more slowly. Theresa yearned for him to pull her sweater up over her head and explore her body instead of just hugging with a goodnight kiss. She wore only a silky camisole under her pullovers, and his fingertips had often slid under the edges of the camisole against her lower back. His touch on her warm skin excited her, and she felt hungry sensations beyond their respectful friendship. She imagined being naked with him. Even when he brushed against her or held her hand, she took no initiative in leading him into exploring intimate possibilities, but she ached for him. She was uncertain whether he was avoiding sexual involvement or wanting her to be in charge of it.

  As she came out of her last class, and her last exam, Kevin was standing at the foot of the stairs. His exams had finished the day before, and he looked relaxed and especially happy to see her. He wore a fresh, blue cotton shirt with a button-down collar, and the color drew her attention to his deep blue eyes as she came down the stairs toward him. She thought how handsome he was, looking up at her, his eyes taking in her every move.

  “For you!” he said, his face flushed with affection and desire. He handed her a bouquet of white roses from behind his back.

  “Oh, Kevin, they’re beautiful! What’s the occasion?” she gasped, trying to hug him without dropping her books and a handful of pens.

  “Do I need an occasion?”

  “Definitely not! What a wonderful surprise, especially after the exam I just had. It was brutal. Oh, Kevin, can you smell the fragrance?” Theresa momentarily closed her eyes and cradled the tissue-wrapped flowers, oblivious to the smiling students passing by.

  “Well,” Kevin began again, “there is an occasion. I’ve been told that white roses are for marriage.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Theresa, I am so in love with you. Will you marry me?”

  Theresa opened her eyes wide, blinking. She suddenly became aware of every detail of her surroundings. Students slowed down as they walked by, whispering and staring at the couple talking over white roses. Kevin looked at her with anxious love in his eyes, and all she could think was that her hair was dirty and her clothes looked as though she’d slept in them.

  She honestly had no response. She wasn’t ready. Kevin looked expectant, hopeful, and she knew she did care deeply for him. But was it the stuff of marriage?

  A distant clock chimed the half hour. Clouds moved briefly in front of the sun, softening the afternoon light. Theresa wondered how her father had proposed to her mother. Would life with Kevin be what her parents had dreamed for their future? Her eyes followed a low brick wall that meandered in curving turns, as if unable to pursue a straight course.

  “It’s just too much. Can we talk about this?”

  “Of course. I wanted to wait until your exams were over, but I’ve been so excited, I could barely get through mine! How about pizza in an hour or so?”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll have time to freshen up and feel more like someone worthy of all this.” She buried her nose in the white petals, inhaling and feeling the importance of the moment. “I do love you, Kevin. And thank you for these beautiful roses.”

  Two hours later they huddled over black olive and sausage pizza. Theresa felt so safe with him, as if her heart was sheltered and protected by his. He was an anchor for her rocky ways, and she was the sparkle that brightened his path.

  They agreed she would call him one week after going home. They would take time to think, to be certain, far from the college campus that brought them together. Could their love navigate the unseen waves of success and disappointment, the unknown challenges of the future?

  That night Kevin walked Theresa back to her senior dorm for the last time. The halls were quiet, and her roommate had already left. Boxes and open suitcases were strewn about her room, clothes folded in tidy piles. A brilliant full moon was perfectly framed by the window above her desk. The room was dark and shadowy, with spring breezes carrying the scent of mock orange and the muffled noise of cars.

  They sat on her narrow bed, not noticing scattered clothes and the fixed stare of her childhood teddy bear. Kevin gazed sideways out the open window. Their thoughts drifted in the softness of the evening. “A blue moon,” he said gently. He slipped his arm around her, kissing her cheek, and burying his face in her dark curls. She loved being close to him and wanted more.

  “What’s a blue moon?” asked Theresa, leaning into him.

  “Truth or dare?” he teased.

  “Truth, counselor! The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” she answered playfully, struggling to get on her knees next to him. Theresa turned toward the window, her body warm against his, and asked again, “What is a blue moon?”

  “It’s the rare occurrence of a second full moon in one month,” he
answered, meeting her mischievous eyes. “The scientific derivation is more complicated, but two in a calendar month is enough to go on. It’s very unique and special.”

  The moon held them silhouetted in the window. Kevin turned her toward him and then back onto the soft folds of the feathery quilt. He carefully unbuttoned and removed her blouse and then lifted the silk camisole over her head. She slid her jeans off, and Kevin’s trousers fell to the floor on top of hers. They made love for the first time on a narrow little bed in the moonlight of a college memory.

  “I love a blue moon,” she whispered in his ear.

  Three weeks later they were married.

  Chapter Three

  THERESA WAS STILL sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the folded letter from her father, when Kevin came into the room. “The car’s all packed, and Gypsy’s found her chew toy. Are you okay? I wish you were not making this long journey alone.” He moved toward the two suitcases to pick them up.

  “I guess I’m a little nervous, now that I’m really going. These last months have stirred up so much emotion. We never know what lies ahead.” She sighed. “I’m scared about what I might learn. I’m scared, Kevin, that you and I are drifting apart and that Whimsy Towers will somehow rescue us from the need to sort things out ourselves.”

  Kevin paused, holding the bags. “I wish we could face this together. Are you sure you don’t want to wait and go when I can get off?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Really, I will. But there are so many questions, not just about my inheritance, but about us, and we cannot keep avoiding them. I wonder if we can go on, if there is enough to hold us together. We took time apart to decide if getting married was right. Maybe this time apart will help us decide if staying married is right.” Her lawyer husband was silent.

  Theresa stood up, slipping the letter into her purse. Looking around the familiar room, with everything so orderly and in its place, she picked up her pillow and sun hat, and followed Kevin toward the hall. Without realizing it, and having never done it before, she closed the door behind her.