Meanwhile, Catherine would go to school to learn a trade so she could find employment, and when Leo returned, he would open his own sculpture studio. He left his beloved Coupe behind, a car that held so many memories for them.
In the weeks after Leo’s departure, they kept their promise and wrote each other daily. However tired he was after a day of military drills, Leo found the energy to pen a few lines to his beloved, sharing his thoughts, fears, and the dream of coming back to her one day. Catherine kept him going, day after day, and gave him the strength to face whatever was to come.
But once Leo was shipped across the ocean, his letters became less frequent. Sometimes, it was a shortage of materials—he couldn’t get paper or ink. Other times, he had no access to a post office for days. And often, the strains and horrors of the war were taking their toll.
Slowly, as Leo’s letters became less frequent, Catherine’s father began to use the situation for his aims, watching for Leo’s letters in the mail. They were easy to spot—the angular block print, the foreign stamps, the battered shape of the envelopes that had been to hell and back.
At first, Josiah was selective about which letters he destroyed, opening every other letter, reading it, and then throwing it away before Catherine ever had a chance to see it. He destroyed half of Leo’s correspondence, then starting to burn every two out of three and eventually, stopping the flow altogether.
The judge knew the postman and made a deal with him. It didn’t take much conniving—no one in Woodsville wanted to cross the judge; Josiah stopped the flow of Catherine’s outgoing letters the same way. Catherine didn’t know that, when she left the letters in the Woods mailbox or dropped them off downtown, the postman saw that the letters never made it out of the post office.
As the letters dried up on both sides of the ocean, the lovers sank into despair. Each thought the other was writing less and less. Leo feared Catherine had met someone else and forgotten him. After weeks and weeks with no news, Catherine feared the worst.
In late May 1944, Josiah Woods stopped their communication altogether, but Leo continued to send letters, hoping to get a response. Catherine’s father continued to read each letter before destroying it. Then, one day, he read in one letter that Leo would be part of a secret mission in France. The letter arrived on June 6, 1944—the day of the Normandy Invasion.
*
In the annals of history—the annals not written by a corrupt circuit court judge in Woodsville, New Hampshire—Leo Taylor was a war hero, on the last wave of soldiers in the Normandy Invasion, landing on Juno Beach with his platoon. Leo fought bravely in helping secure Northern France for the Allies and was not among the wounded.
But Judge Josiah Woods told a very different version of events as Leo’s letter presented the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He could now cleanse his daughter’s mind and heart and free her from that poisonous obsession by telling one little lie, claiming that Leo had been killed in Normandy.
Catherine knew that the names of New England men who died in the war were collected and posted at the Grafton County Courthouse and that her father checked the list routinely. Indeed, he typically told her of anyone she might know—classmates, neighbors, family friends. Waldo Ayers’s name had been on the list a few months ago, and her father had delivered the grave news. For his little ruse to succeed, Josiah had Leo’s name added to the board at the courthouse, in case Catherine would check.
But to cover his tracks and ensure he remained above suspicion, he took it a step further, using his clout to have a brief description of Leo included in the Twin State News-Times as a part of the local coverage of the Normandy Invasion. Because a dozen other men from the county and surrounding area also perished in the invasion, Leo’s death was one of many.
Josiah found Catherine at the Woodsville Drugstore, where she was in the middle of making a cherry lime soda. “I’ve had some news,” he said, then cleared his throat.
Fear clutched at Catherine’s heart as she forgot to breathe for a minute.
“Leo was killed,” her father told her, “in Normandy. I’ve just received the list.”
The soda glass she held fell to the floor, shattered into a thousand pieces and skittered across the cheery black-and-white tile. “It can’t be,” she said. “There’s been some mistake.”
He shrugged. “It’s on the board,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know how upsetting this must be for you.”
Without even taking off her apron, Catherine fled to the courthouse, refusing to believe that her biggest nightmare had come true. But there it was, on the board—Leopold Ellis Taylor, Jr., her Leo, the man she loved.
The tears were unlike any tears she had ever cried. Thick and bitter, they tumbled down her face like a funeral veil.
So, this is why he stopped writing, she thought.
The deception was complete. Because Leo was a loner with few friends, no one bothered to check or challenge the claim he was dead. Leo’s father had left town without leaving an address and his mother was long gone to Boston with her new husband. Thanks to Josiah, Catherine believed that Leo died in the Normandy Invasion.
Catherine knew Josiah’s dislike of Leo but never would she suspect her father of such elaborate treachery. So, when she checked the papers the next day and wept over Leo’s mention, Josiah congratulated himself on a job well done. He had finally purged Leo from his daughter’s life forever—or so he thought.
*
For weeks, Catherine wandered the streets of Woodsville in a daze, seeing Leo’s name every time she passed by the courthouse list. Every time she tried to conjure images of his face or hands, the memories were ripped from her, only the cold, sterile block letters of his name on that cursed board in their place.
She’d been worried when Leo stopped writing, now she was crushed to learn of his death.
“I think you’ve grieved enough,” her father said at dinner one night. “Your life will go on; it’s time to make the most of it.”
Catherine gave him a level look. “You know I’ll never forgive you,” she said.
For a moment, Josiah thought she had discovered the ruse. “For what?” he asked.
“The way you treated Leo,” she said. Josiah kept eating. “You robbed me of being with him,” Catherine continued. “Those were the last few days we had together. But you wouldn’t let him spend time here or even share a meal.”
She took a deep breath. “The way you treated Leo when he was alive was despicable. Now that he’s gone, I’m going too.” She pushed her plate away from her. “I can’t stay in Woodsville anymore.”
“What?” her mother said. “Catherine, let’s talk about this…”
“No,” she replied. “I’ve already decided. I’m going to college to get an education. That’s all that’s left now.”
Her mother cried, but her father was stoic. In truth, he was delighted she’d no longer be serving ice cream at the Woodsville Drugstore as he’d wanted her to pursue a college degree before marrying a proper man all along.
Catherine enrolled at Keene State College that September; she took mathematics and bookkeeping courses, hoping to secure a job as an accountant after graduation in the goal of freeing herself from depending on any man, her father included.
Leo, alive and well in France, assumed Catherine had found someone else as he hadn’t received word in many months. The military was rife with sob stories of stateside girlfriends who met someone else and abandoned the soldiers they had claimed to love. Leo didn’t want to believe this of Catherine—surely, she would remain true, but with his letters unanswered, Leo didn’t know what else to think.
Fortunately or unfortunately, he was forced to hold his heartbreak at bay; in wartime, there’s little time for the kind of lover’s malaise that can eat whole months during times of peace. Leo’s life was consumed by the daily struggle of training, fighting, and keeping out of harm’s way.
As the war came to a close in 1945, Leo found himself stationed in Paris, part
of the troops overseeing the reconstruction efforts. Although war-torn, Paris was salve to his soul as he loved the sidewalk art, the street cafés, and the painters and sculptors who made art in the open. But he was in despair with not a word from Catherine, often thinking his army friends were right: Catherine found someone else and forgot him.
Nevertheless, he fell in love with France and Paris in particular. and one day, as he strolled through the airy Parisian streets, he met a French girl named Nicole.
She, too, was an artist. Their courtship began when she took a piece of sidewalk chalk and sketched a rough portrait of Leo in his uniform; she offered to buy him a cup of coffee, and they saw each other daily from then on.
Nicole was beautiful and talented, but she was not Catherine. That knowledge hung like a weight against Leo’s chest, much like the silver locket around his neck.
The First Interlude
In the spring of 1946, Leo was released from his military assignment. Paris was in full bloom—astir with new life after the war. Nicole’s feelings were in full bloom also—she fell for Leo head over heels.
“Stay with me,” she begged, as they lay entangled on the bed in her sunny, one-room apartment above an art store a few streets south of the Pigalle district. It was Leo’s last night in Paris… or rather, his last morning.
“You love it here, so stay in Paris,” Nicole whispered. “We can get married.”
Leo couldn’t deny that she was right. He loved Paris, but someone else was on his mind.
“I’ll come back,” he said. “But I need to take care of some things in the States first.” The lie tasted sour in his mouth. His aim was to comfort Nicole, but his plan was to go back to the U.S. and find Catherine—if she’d still have him.
Nicole wept, standing at Paris-Orly airport terminal and bid him good-bye. As he boarded his plane, he could see her, bathed in a pool of sunlight behind him. Her dark eyes and flaxen hair reminded him of the black-eyed Susans he used to collect in Woodsville—which made him think of Catherine. These days, nearly everything did.
He flew to Boston for a brief stay with his mother who had married a few years earlier. Deborah had two kids, a brownstone full of squawking, crying children, and even less time for Leo than usual. He was happy to make his stay short. The next day, he hefted his bag to the station, bought himself a ticket, and headed to Woodsville on the eight o’clock train.
There was no one Leo wanted to see in Woodsville—nay, in the entire world—save Catherine herself, and he went straight to her house. As Leo strode up the porch, it struck him that, in all the years of their acquaintance, this was the first time he had gone to the front door of the Woods mansion and knocked. He chuckled, perhaps to stem the tide of butterflies in his stomach.
The butterflies vanished the instant Judge Woods appeared behind the screen door. “You,” Josiah said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Leo’s years of physical training in the military were evident; if the judge had thought of grappling with him before, he certainly didn’t seem eager to do it now.
“I know there’s been bad blood between us,” Leo began. How many times he had practiced this speech on the plane. “But that’s water under the bridge now. I’ve seen some terrible things the last few years, and all I want right now is to see the one person who’s made it worthwhile.” He took a deep breath. “I’d like to see your daughter.”
The judge opened the screen door, took a step onto the porch, and closed the door behind him. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “She’s married, you know.”
Leo felt as if Josiah had dealt him another blow to the face but a much harder one. He had prepared himself for this possibility, fearing that he would discover that Catherine forgot him. Wasn’t this why she had stopped writing? Still, hearing it confirmed was more horrible than he could have ever imagined.
“I hadn’t heard,” Leo said, struggling to remain calm.
“I suppose you hadn’t, seeing as you’ve been abroad.” Josiah folded his arms across his chest. “She fell in love with an established attorney. A well-to-do, older man. Treated her like a queen. He came to town… oh, I don’t know. Shortly after you went to war, I suppose.”
Leo swallowed. “Does he make her happy?”
“Of course, he does,” the judge said. “They left town to start a new life in another state. Wanted to start a family. They’ve been busy on that count.” Josiah seized the opportunity to embellish the lie even further. “Catherine’s got a little boy already, and she’s pregnant with my second grandchild.”
Leo gripped the porch railing, lest he topple, the news washing over him like a wave of nausea. “Where is she?” he asked.
Josiah laughed. “Now, why would I tell you that? She’s happy in her new life. If you track her down, you would fill her with doubt. Is that any way to treat someone you claimed you adored?” He took a step closer. “Stay away from her, Leo. If you ever loved my daughter, stay out of her life forever. Do not destroy the joy she has found.”
Leo didn’t spend a single night in Woodsville. What few friends he had were gone, anyway—lost in the war. After speaking to the judge, he couldn’t stand to be in Woodsville one more moment; every tree, corner, and house held memories that caused nothing but pain. So, he trudged back to the station and took the train back.
He spent a few painful days with his mother in Boston, boxed in by screaming babies and Deborah’s insufferable husband. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few days,” he told her and meant it. Leo bought a one-way flight to Paris and returned to Nicole, who welcomed him with open arms.
For years, he’d held to a certain idea of the future, seeing himself with Catherine—happy, working as a sculptor, in love with her for the rest of his life. This hope had fueled him through the war years, these dreams sustaining him as he stormed the battlefields of Normandy, seeing his friends shot and killed.
Now, that future had turned to dust, much like the lives of friends he had lost. So, he re-created himself: he took a cue from Nicole and decided to hone his artistic craft, spending long hours in her apartment, drinking strong coffee and sculpting. First, remembering the figurines he had shaped for Catherine years ago, he had used clay, and, after a year or so, he began to experiment with plaster.
And the experiments didn’t stop there. Leo felt restless so he learned to drive racecars, something he mastered fast because of his intense personality. Eventually, he gained enough confidence to aspire competing at Le Mans with encouragement from his driver friends.
Leo assumed his feelings for Catherine would fade with time, but he was wrong; instead, they only grew deeper, clearer, and more intense. He removed the locket from around his neck after Nicole questioned him about it, but he kept it still, true to his promise: the locket lived safely in the pocket of his paint-splattered jeans for the next seven years.
*
The Monadnock Region of New Hampshire, where Keene State College was located, enjoyed a warm settled summer. Students often lingered well after finishing their coursework to revel in the picturesque countryside. New couples journeyed into the surrounding hamlets, tentatively holding hands in the pews of clapboard churches and taking pleasant dips in the White Mountains’ icy streams. Many a young woman has met her mate at Keene State in much this way.
Catherine Woods was not one of those. By June 1946, Catherine had completed her two-year associate degree. But, to her parents’ disappointment, she had not met a man to marry.
Instead, she moved home to Woodsville. Her father obtained a job for her in the local court system, but she never felt content—her relationship with Josiah was tenuous, the men in town were not to her liking, and everything in Woodsville brought back memories of Leo.
So, after nine months, she moved south to Philadelphia in March 1947, taking a position as an accountant at Morton-Folsom Insurance Company, the stable job she hoped would make her financially independent for many years. Catherine loved Philadelphia—the music, the restaurants,
the nightlife—it was so different from life in New Hampshire. She enjoyed seeing club bands and live theatre. She worked a full work week, but her nights and weekends were full of smoky bars, elegant dinners, and the sensual strains of jazz.
Catherine dated many men, recognizing a clear pattern in her tastes after some time—she was drawn to rebels, artists, musicians, all those who defied authority. In other words, she was searching for Leo all over again. But every affair left her unsatisfied and every new candidate eventually fell short.
Meanwhile, she turned her attention to politics. Back in New Hampshire, she didn’t think she had a political bone in her body. But she soon abandoned her conservative roots in favor of a more liberal social agenda. In 1948, she became involved in the presidential campaign of Progressive Party candidate Henry A. Wallace, a man she came to admire.
During the campaign, she made new friends, including a fellow accountant, Walter Murray. Walter was far from an ideologue or a firebrand—he was simply a good American citizen who enjoyed being part of the political process. But she liked the way he tipped his hat and smiled at her—always a true gentleman—when she came by the campaign office. She wondered sometimes why he didn’t ask her out for dinner or a movie. Whether it was the age difference or his shyness, she didn’t know.
Beneath the glitz and glamour of her Philadelphia life, Catherine was lonely. She had become quite the political progressive, but her view of relationships always remained conservative. She couldn’t run fast and loose with men—she’d dabbled in it, but it wasn’t her style; the short-lived flings only made her feel empty inside. And her job, while lucrative, made her long for something else. For the first time, she thought that what she wanted was much simpler—to marry and raise a family. And that was the dilemma Catherine struggled with the night she met Michael Snell.
Four Seasons of Romance Page 5
