A Season in Purgatory

by Dominick Dunne

“Constant reads every word you write. We all do.” She looked at him. “I suppose I should say, ‘What are you doing here?’ ”

  “At the Bee and Thistle Inn in Cranston, Maine?”

  “Yes.”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he said.

  “Oh, just a little vacation to get away from things. This is a lovely inn, don’t you think? Marvelous walks, ample tennis courts, the air, the food, the rest, that sort of thing.”

  “No, no, no, don’t say that, Kitt. We’re in a near blizzard outside. I can’t think you’re taking walks or playing tennis. Let’s not get off to a wrong start. I saw her today.”

  “Who?”

  “Your sister, Agnes, in the Cranston Institute. The Bradley your family never mentions. You must be here visiting her.”

  Kitt made no reply.

  Harrison sat down beside her. “Dressed in the habit of a Sacred Heart nun? Thinks she’s Mother Vincent at the convent? Says forty rosaries a day? Claims her silver rosary beads blessed by the Pope were stolen? Am I ringing any bells?”

  Kitt took a sip of her wine. “I have her habits made by a theatrical costumer in Boston, in case that was your next question. That’s my little secret. Ma doesn’t know. What the hell difference does it make if it makes her happy? Poor thing. She talks of the Pope’s visit to Scarborough Hill as if it were yesterday rather than twenty-one years ago. It can’t be much of a life in there, you know, fighting with a woman called Esme in the next room every day of her life.”

  She smiled at him. There were tears in her eyes. “Poor Agnes. Before they realized she was retarded, the older boys, Jerry and Des and Sandro, used to make such fun of her, and play such terrible jokes on her, and the pathetic thing was she just adored them in return. She looks like Pa, don’t you think? Same chin. Sounds like Pa, too.”

  “Yes, I suppose she does,” said Harrison.

  “I come up every year at this time and spend a few days, and if I’m in the country, I come on her birthday as well. She loves presents. She looks at my hands first before she looks at my face to see what I’ve brought her. She loves unwrapping them and saving the paper and the ribbons. She claps her hands. I bring her prayer books and rosary beads and scapular medals and things. If this hadn’t happened to her, I’m sure she would have become a nun. All the indications were there, but Ma and Pa simply wouldn’t face it. They thought such a thing couldn’t happen to us. Sort of typical Bradley thinking, don’t you think?” She sighed, shook her head, and changed the subject. “You haven’t answered me, you know. What are you doing here in Cranston, Maine, in a snowstorm a week before Christmas?”

  “I was visiting Esme Bland,” he said.

  “Esme? On a story?”

  “Yes.”

  “She killed someone, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose I’ll be reading about it.”

  “Yes.”

  “The dining room closes in ten minutes. You wouldn’t like to take me to dinner, would you?” she asked.

  During dinner the electricity went out. Waiters and waitresses scurried to light candles on all the tables.

  “Power failure,” said the waitress as she lit a candle. “It’s a bad storm.”

  “Sort of fun,” said Kitt. “Don’t you think? I saw a movie once about people who were stranded in an inn during a blizzard.”

  “Isn’t there a generator in the inn?” Harrison asked the waitress.

  “There is. It’s in one of the outbuildings, but the door is locked and no one can find the key. They’re looking, though.”

  “Oh, Harrison, I can’t tell you how nice this is,” said Kitt. “It’s quite festive. We should probably finish the wine, don’t you think? It’s a pity to let it go to waste.”

  “I’ll have another coffee,” said Harrison.

  “Hi, Mr. Burns. Would you like to join our table? It’s Leeza, in case you can’t see in this light. From before? With your book? There’s a group of us. We thought we’d sit out the storm together in the bar.”

  “Oh, Leeza.” He looked over at Kitt and understood her eyes. “Perhaps later, Leeza. We have some things to discuss,” said Harrison.

  Kitt smiled at him. “I love seeing you, Harrison,” she said.

  “There’s bridge. There’s backgammon. There’s dancing. All by candlelight. Do any of the above appeal to you?” he asked.

  “Not one. There’s too much about you I want to know and too much about me I want to tell. Did you know I had a terrific crush on you when I was fourteen and fifteen?”

  “No.”

  “Of course you didn’t. And Maureen said, ‘Don’t fall in love with a scholarship student. That’s not what Ma and Pa have in mind for us.’ ”

  Harrison smiled and shook his head. “What a family you’re from. I never liked Maureen much, as long as we’re being so candid. And Jerry. I couldn’t abide him, either. Once I saw Maureen talk down to a great architect, the one who built the Bradley Library at Milford, and I never forgot it. What’s her life like? How has she fared?”

  “Married to Freddy, quite happily. He handles the business affairs for the family, so the boys can be free for public service. Maureen turns out children in a fury, one after another, year after year, wanting to outpoint the parents, I suppose. She always thought she was far more intelligent than the boys, and she was, I suppose, but Pa was never one for wanting the ladies of the family to excel. Run the house, do the charities, have children, raise them to be good Catholics, that’s the most we had to aspire to.”

  “Women these days do not have to do their father’s bidding,” said Harrison. “In fact, I don’t know any who do.”

  “Well, there is the prospect of all that money sometime in the future. None of us wanted to monkey with that,” replied Kitt.

  “Do I detect the tiniest element of defeat?”

  “I thought I kept that well hidden beneath this Chanel suit, this organdy gardenia, and all these goddamn gold chains. I thought they gave me a look of superiority. Or does the writer’s eye penetrate the costume?”

  “I think Leeza and her group think we’re rude,” said Harrison.

  “Yes, yes, we’ll go over there in a minute. You mustn’t disappoint your fans,” said Kitt, but she displayed no intention of going. She poured the last of the wine into her glass. “When you first went away, I missed you. I was sad you didn’t say good-bye to me. I always thought you liked me. What happened? What went wrong? How could you vanish like you did? Without a word. None of us understood. Ma wrote you a letter, and you didn’t answer. Maureen and Freddy said they saw you in Rome, and you pretended you didn’t know them.”

  “Oh, things happened,” said Harrison. He shrugged.

  “I’m sure. And I’m sure from that shrug you’re not going to tell me what. Now, seeing you, I think I must have missed you all the time, although I didn’t think about it after a while.” She giggled. “I’m a little tight.”

  He smiled at her. “You’ve become much more than stylish, you know. You’re lovely. You’re really lovely, Kitt,” he said.

  “If you could feel the exquisite feeling going through me,” she replied. “I’ve always wanted to be called lovely. Sometimes I’m called handsome, but never lovely. I was sure you were going to say I’d grown to look like Constant. That’s what everyone says.” She smiled at him. “We heard you were engaged.”

  “More. Married.”

  “Oh.” She elongated the single syllable, bringing disappointment into her tone. “I didn’t take you for the marrying kind.”

  “Apparently I’m not. We’re separated at the moment.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “Sometimes, yes. I miss the boys.”

  “Boys?”

  “I have twins. Age two.”

  “Oh, my, you are married. Who is she? Who was she? That’s what Ma always asks.”

  “She was Claire Rafferty.”

  “Claire Rafferty! She was a bridesmaid in Maureen’s wed
ding.”

  “Yes.”

  “You married an older woman.”

  “Five or six years, yes.”

  “Seven.”

  “Six.”

  “Was that the problem? Age?”

  “No.”

  “She was a rude lady. She left before the reception. She dumped her bridesmaid’s dress in a wastebasket. It cost seven hundred dollars. Ma was furious. She said she never heard of such bad behavior. No one could understand it. Ma said if she ever saw her again, she’d give her a piece of her mind. And now she’s Mrs. Harrison Burns. I can’t wait to tell this to Ma.”

  Harrison nodded.

  “What do you have to say to that bit of information?” asked Kitt.

  “You don’t want to hear what I have to say to that.”

  “Oh, yes I do.”

  “On the night before the wedding, after the bridal dinner at the club, when everyone had gone to bed, your father came into the room where Claire was sleeping, the room that used to be Agnes’s room, and tried to fuck her.”

  Kitt gasped. Her hand covered her mouth.

  “Fortunately for Claire, your father came before he got it in her. Do you still think she’s a rude lady? Can you blame her for not staying for the reception?”

  “Oh, dear,” said Kitt. She put her head in her hands. “No wonder none of my friends or Mary Pat’s friends ever wanted to stay overnight. Their parents wouldn’t let them. The word was out on our house. You’d better order me another drink on that one, if you don’t mind. I might have a big girl’s drink now. A brandy, perhaps. I always thought something like that must have happened. I thought maybe it was one of my brothers. The men in my family, they all fuck too much. I married another one, just like that.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. Every man, or at least most men, have their outside activities, or so my brothers tell me, but it shouldn’t cross over into the house and the family. Poor Ma. What she closes her eyes to. And it’s all hush-hush in front of the help. ‘You know how maids talk.’ That’s what Ma always says. That seems to be the big thing she worries about. Ma would die if she thought Bridey and the rest of them knew, but they probably do. Help always know everything, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know. We never had much help,” said Harrison. “There was always rich-girl talk from you. I remember that.”

  Kitt laughed. “You’re so prickly, Harrison. It’s the scholarship boy in you coming out,” she said.

  Harrison laughed.

  “You’ve changed, Harry. You’re different somehow. You’re not at all like that shy, quiet, blushing boy Constant brought home with him when he was kicked out of Milford. We used to think you were in love with Constant.”

  “I probably was, to a degree. But that was then.”

  “I remember you as always wanting not to be noticed, almost frightened of attention. Now you seem somber, maybe even a little grim. Have terrible things happened to you? Oh, I remember now. They caught those frightful boys who killed your parents. Is that it?”

  “You’ve changed too, you know. I’m trying to think how old you must be,” he replied.

  “Avoid answering by asking another question, that old trick. I’m thirty.”

  “Thirty. My God. I see your name in Dolly De Longpre’s column from time to time. Somewhere I saw pictures of you at a house party in Turkey, and I read about your marriage in Town and Country,” said Harrison.

  “Well, don’t bother to send a wedding present.”

  Harrison laughed again. “Not going well?”

  “Great wedding, lousy marriage. My sister the countess was the matron of honor. That added no end of glamour to the proceedings. She almost got more space in the papers than I did,” said Kitt. “My father didn’t want me to marry him. My father said, ‘Can I tell you something about Cheever Chadwick, Kitt? He’s never going to amount to a row of pins. That income is going to deball him. He doesn’t have enough money for philanthropy, but he’s got more than enough not to have to test himself. You mark my words, he’s going to flit from one thing to another.’ Whatever you say about my father, and I know a lot of people have a lot to say about him, mostly bad, but when it comes to money, he always knew what he was talking about.”

  “Why did you marry him then?”

  “It’s hard being a Catholic girl and hoping to make a good marriage. And in our family, with my mother, you just had to make a good marriage. Maureen did all right with Freddy Tierney. And Mary Pat got the count. Everybody loves Philippe. Then I met Cheever in Aspen one year, at a winter wedding. It was my fourteenth stint as a bridesmaid and his tenth as best man. At first it seemed like a dream. Oh, I suppose I wanted to stick it to those girls back home who used to snub me at the club. I made the best marriage of the whole lot of them, Weegie Somerset or Belinda Beckwith, or any of those girls, except that I wasn’t a bit happy with Cheever. His family hated the idea of him marrying a Catholic, which was part of the reason I was so determined. And, to boot, we made him convert, not that it meant a damn thing to him. We didn’t get the papal blessing, like Maureen and the others did. Even Cardinal couldn’t swing that one. Ma minded horribly about that.”

  Harrison said nothing.

  “Maybe I always knew it wasn’t going to last. Maybe that’s why I didn’t write thank-you notes for my wedding presents. I suppose I’ll be the first divorcée in the Bradley family,” said Kitt. “Shall we talk about our flop marriages? Do you want details?”

  He laughed. “No. Not tonight. Tomorrow.”

  “Of course, you’re right. Tomorrow. After Mass. There’s an eight-thirty and a ten in the village.”

  “I don’t go to Mass anymore.”

  “Naughty, naughty. Hell’s fires for you.” She reached for her bag. “It’s two o’clock. I’m going to bed. You better join Leeza and her friends. How about breakfast?”

  “They’ve closed the airport in Bangor, and the roads on the way to the airport are closed, too. We seem to be in a raging blizzard. The lines are down. The fax is out. We’re trapped,” said Harrison.

  “It would be quite nice to be snowed in, wouldn’t it? Marooned in Maine. Roads blocked. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it? This almost calls for champagne. Did you phone Claire?”

  “Yes. Are you going to phone Cheever?”

  “No. He’s in Las Vegas with a hand model.”

  “It’s like that, is it?”

  They stared at each other.

  “Were you thinking of kissing me?” she asked.

  “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “About time. I’ve been waiting for twenty-four hours. I began to think you were one of those who didn’t kiss on the first date. Well, do it, for God’s sake.”

  He moved toward her on the sofa and took her in his arms. They kissed each other, looked at each other, and kissed each other again. Their hands moved over each other’s backs and shoulders.

  “You’re not thinking of Constant, are you?” Kitt whispered.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “I was thinking of you.”

  “Good. I’m mad about your tongue. I like a good strong tongue. Do you think I’m terribly forward?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I like forward. I need a hand held out. I’m not good as the instigator,” he answered.

  Again they kissed. Their embrace became more passionate.

  “What is it you want?” she asked.

  “I’d like very much to see you undressed.”

  “I think that could be arranged. Quite easily,” said Kitt.

  “Your room or mine?”

  “Mine, of course. How would it look for me to be sneaking around the halls of the Bee and Thistle after midnight? Gerald Bradley’s daughter. Think of the talk. The door will be open. By open I mean closed, but unlocked. You will be able to walk right in.”

  That night Harrison became Kitt’s lover. They did not emerge from Kitt’s room for most of the next day.

  “Ma, I won’t make your party tonight. I’m snow
ed in up here. Worst storm in years. Roads closed. Lines down. I’m talking on a cellular phone. You won’t believe whose cellular phone it is. You won’t believe who I am sitting here with. Harrison. Harrison Burns. Constant’s old friend from Milford. Do you remember?” There was a pause as she listened to her mother. Then she looked at Harrison, covered the receiver, and said, “She said you dropped out of our lives. She said you forgot all about us.” Her attention went back to her mother. “Well, he’s fine. Serious looking. Scowl line between the eyes. Staring at a word processor all day, I suppose. Oh, Ma, a lady asked for his autograph, and he signed it like he was used to it.” She listened to her mother again and then said, “She said she reads your books. She wants to know what you’re doing here. He’s visiting someone, Ma. No, he’s not writing about the place for a magazine, at least I don’t think so. No, Ma. I won’t tell him about Agnes. I promise. Oh, she’s pretty much the same. She fights with Esme in the next room. Over rosary beads mostly. You’d better get Cardinal to order some more, by the way. Blessed, and all that.” When she hung up, she looked over at Harrison. He was looking back at her.

  “Come here,” she said.

  “I find it odd that you ask no questions about Constant. Don’t you have any curiosity about your former best friend?”

  “How is he?”

  “In Congress. You must know that. The youngest congressman there. He’s going to run for governor. Pa thinks there’s more visibility as a governor than there is in Congress if you want to make a run for the White House. Pa wants him to speak at the next convention.”

  “Ah.”

  “Something went off between you two, didn’t it?”

  “Boarding school friendships aren’t necessarily meant to last forever.”

  “There are the occasional character flaws, I know. But you have to admit he’s utterly charming, and he’s done marvelous things in Congress.”

  Harrison said nothing.

  “Now, Charlotte, his wife. That’s another story. Oh, she’s all right, I suppose. She thinks she’s sweller than we are, which she is. She’s a Weegie Somerset type, but, fortunately for everyone concerned, Cardinal located a Catholic grandmother in Charlotte’s past, on her mother’s side, got her baptized fast, and wham, bam, an instant Catholic, and a perfect political wife.”