“Does George have any children?” Claire tapped her fingers against her glass and glanced out the window. That question somehow magnified her solitary state, no friends, no spouse—no children.
“He has one small daughter. I believe her name’s Anna.”
Claire turned and viewed her brother-in-law. “Just the one daughter?”
“Mmm, yes, just the one.” He eyed her while nursing his drink for a moment. “I’ve never met her, so I can’t tell you much more.”
“I bet little Anna misses her mother.”
“I’m sure she does.” Mitchell shook his head. “I don’t know how a man raises a child alone, and a girl at that. For me, that’s the least of my worries.”
“And what’s so bad about girls? Why is that every man wants a boy?” Claire frowned in his direction.
Mitchell grinned. “Sorry, Claire. I think men see their sons as spitting images of themselves. At least we understand maleness. You gals . . . not so sure about you. Ladies are a mystery, warm and soft, loving on the one hand, yet so damn moody and hard to figure out on the other.” He sipped from his glass and stared out the window.
She delivered a soft swat on his wrist. “For Pete’s sake, Mitchell! You make it sound like we’re from another planet. If you want to know the truth, men and women aren’t all that different, except you men use brawn and sex for power.” Shuddering, she remembered that horrid afternoon when she’d seen Ruth entering the shed, struggling in vain against the male forcing her inside. How much more did she fight once the doors closed?
Her brother-in-law studied his drink. “We do use sex for power, don’t we?”
“You think?” Claire fixed her eyes on his face.
“How did you avoid it at Hatchie River?”
“I prayed like the Catholic I’m not. I swear, if I’d had a rosary, I’d have prayed that thing round and round. If there had been candles and matches in the chapel, I’d have lit one for every saint you could think of and then some.” The effects of the alcohol had settled over her, and she sensed her muscles relaxing for the first time in a long time. “I kept my mouth shut, tried to keep a low profile, and it seems like no matter what you did or didn’t do, you could become a target.” She let out a rueful chuckle. “The odd thing, it was another woman who tried to get me, not the men. So I’ll say it again, there’s not a whole lot of difference between us. Don’t ever forget that.”
He acknowledged her with a polite smile, but Claire knew he nor anyone would ever understand circumstances and human nature the way she did now. Experience had raped her outlook on life, snatching away her view of the world as mostly a decent place and people basically good. At times, she shamefully longed for the old cloak of ignorance, where she could hide under simple blind trust and modest social intercourse, the sweet glue holding people together in families and community, where a blind eye shut out truth. No one dared hurt another or slight someone else out of spite, at least not in the open.
Evil lurked behind closed doors. Modesty and prudence were cast aside, and the ugly words and deeds flowed without propriety. The meek held themselves together in stoical silence, fearful of flaming the fires of fury if anyone uttered a protest. In Hatchie River, she’d seen what happens once the doors closed, and instigators ruled freely and without prejudice, picking random victims for the sheer thrill of it, while the community turned away. She’d done it beforehand, just like the others, paying light lip service to the plight of the poor, the infirm, and the insane. Her heart, however, had remained steeped in darkness and ignorance. Her time in the asylum shined a light on her social folly, and now she cringed with shame. She turned her face toward Mitchell, who’d lightly rested his hand on hers.
“I hope all the nightmares and boogey men go away soon, Claire. And once again, I hate that all this happened. I really thought you were safe in that place.” He stared at her with an imploring look in his eyes. “I mean, how could you not be safe and sound, with doctors and nurses around?”
Claire’s face held a wan smile. “I thought just like you did, once upon a time. It doesn’t dawn on people that those in positions to protect and heal actually don’t. How could one believe otherwise?”
“Still, you asked me for help the first time, and I heard you, desperate and scared, yet somehow I couldn’t believe it was that bad.” He shuddered. “Never would have believed it.” He swallowed the last of his drink.
“Sometimes, Mitchell, situations can be that bad. I don’t go around looking at my surroundings and people, friends or strangers the same way I used to. I know now there’s the ugly side to each bright one, and we don’t fully know the motives of others.”
“I’m hoping Knoxville will give you a chance for another lease on life, an opportunity for living the way you want, to have the things you want, without someone coming along and stripping the rug out from under you.”
“Me too.” She grew silent, gazing out the window a few seconds before trailing her eyes back over the room, studying the occupants with mild interest.
“How about we head on back to our seats and get some sleep. We still have several hours to go.”
The two vacated the lounge car and slipped back to the passenger car, where they sank down in their seats. As the train rumbled over the tracks, the vibration and hum of the car lulled Claire into gentle sleep, while the world, bathed in night black, passed by in silence.
In the early hours, the train slowed to a stop, bringing an end to a dreamless sleep. A warm, light touch from Mitchell, and Claire awakened, squinting at her surroundings as the momentary confusion dissipated.
“We’re here.” Mitchell leaned over and gazed out the window.
The rays of morning light stole through the windows, illuminating the passenger car with fresh light. Other occupants stirred, some arising and making their way toward the bathrooms.
Mitchell’s asked, “Did you want to freshen up or anything?”
Claire eyed an attractive woman passing by her seat. “That might not be a bad idea. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Inside the lady’s room, she sat on a clean toilet, thankful for a real stall with a door that locked. At the sink, she washed her hands with a thick bar of soap. The reflection she saw in the mirror no longer filled her with disdain. Despite all she’d been through, cosmetics and a good brushing of her hair had done wonders in restoring her old glow.
Ladies in fashionable attire, perfectly arranged hair, and trendy jewelry stood in stark contrast to the women of Hatchie River. For a moment, Claire stopped and focused on a moment of remembrance for those wretched women who would never go home. Only one similarity remained. She was still alone in the world. No spouse stood at the platform, ready for a welcome home kiss. Worse, no children to embrace or smother with sweet words of endearment.
For a moment, Claire battled with sadness as she thought again of the grave she’d left behind. She pulled a fresh paper towel from the rack and dabbed her eyes. A younger woman standing nearby acknowledged her with a brief smile before leaving. Claire was glad for the moment of privacy. This morning, polite conversation didn’t interest her. She inspected herself in the mirror once more and returned to Mitchell, who’d gathered up their bags.
“Let’s head on out and find George.” Her brother-in-law nodded toward the door.
Fresh, cool air hit her face, and she inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the first hints of fall as it filled her with a new vibrant energy. This day held the promise of brilliant skies, and an occasional light breeze.
“Claire, I think I see George over there. You okay?” Mitchell took a few steps toward her, concerned.
“I’m fine, Mitchell, just getting used to it all.”
Several yards away, she spied a gentleman waving at them.
Within seconds, Claire found herself in the presence of a man near the same age as Adrian, with a warm smile, and sparkling eyes. A quick breeze ruffled a few locks of his hair, giving him a lightly tousled look and a certain boyish charm.
For a moment, her pulse quickened. She hadn’t expected such an attractive man. Of course, she’d not given much thought about George, other than he bought hats for his store from Adrian’s company and owned a vacant house.
“Well, well, so you’re Claire?” George stretched out his hand, clasping hers securely, holding a little longer than customary in such a simple greeting. The energy he exuded suggested strength, determination, and from behind those chocolate brown eyes, a flash of kindness and compassion. His stare held a fleeting connection with her own. She noted how well his grey suit fit, and how the quality of the material and burgundy silk handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket suggested an eye for men’s fashion. If he carried Adrian’s hats as part of his merchandise, George definitely had taste. He eyed her with intense interest, a smile brightening his face as he spoke. “I just have to tell you, I love Mitchell’s hats. I sell every one of them faster than I can get them in. Men and women, they’re all sell-outs.”
The sound of his voice fell against her ear, strong yet silky, putting her immediately at ease. His delicacy in word choice, using her brother-in-law’s name in association with Wright Hats, filled her with a sense of relief. Had he avoided Adrian’s name for her benefit?
“Glad you like them. I’m rather partial to them myself.” Claire smiled, giving Mitchell an obligatory pat on the shoulder.
Mitchell reciprocated Claire’s gesture with a good-natured glance. “Bet you didn’t know Claire comes up with many of our designs. We at Wright Hats believe in the value of a woman’s touch.”
Claire’s eyes widened, and she turned back to George and offered her broadest smile.
“Doesn’t surprise me one bit. As good as she is, no wonder she’s your best kept secret.” George chuckled.
So far George had shown himself as gracious and sensitive, but Claire knew time revealed everyone’s true character. The notion of the present moment hit her full force. Hearing him, touching him, seeing him, sealed reality for good. After all, he’d be her landlord.
“Mitch, I’ve got my car in the lot over there. Let’s get this pretty lady settled in.” He turned and offered Claire his arm. “I’m so glad you’re using the house. It’s a great place, right on the bank of the Holston River. When Mitchell and I talked, I knew it would be the perfect place for someone like you.”
“It sounds lovely. Thank you so much for helping.”
Their eyes met, and a wave of self-consciousness rolled over her, as she and George, for the first time, acknowledged the real impetus behind why she was here.
George leaned over a little and whispered in her ear. “You’ll be okay, Claire. I’ll see to that.”
Downtown Knoxville pulsed with a rhythm altogether different than the sleepy little town of Ash Grove, with cars continually cruising up and down the streets, while shoppers walked the sidewalks flanking taller buildings filled with more shops and businesses than she cared to count. Street cars carried passengers to and from town. Anywhere she could possibly want to go, a street car or bus could take her there.
“I’ll bring you here tomorrow, and I’ll show you around town, let you see the sights. And of course, I’ll show you my store.” George beamed at Claire.
“I’d love nothing better. This all looks much more exciting than where I came from.”
“It’s a faster pace, but you want to see fast, go to New York. Been there, and there’s nothing like it. We’ll never see that here. The South’s a different world, but one I like just fine.” He smiled that easy smile, the one Claire found almost addictive, more so when it came on the heels of his eyes lighting up when he talked about a subject of interest. “What about you? Are you originally from Ash Grove?”
“My family is from little unheard of South Dakota. I left home when I graduated high school. Thought I go out and see the world, seek my fortune. Memphis was the place I finally called home.”
“Now here you are, still seeing the world. And who knows, you might just get that fortune yet. Good things happen, even here in a modest town like Knoxville.” Another intoxicating smile, coupled with those hypnotic eyes.
George took the luggage and placed them in the trunk. Mitchell climbed into the back seat, while Claire took her place in the passenger’s seat. Soon the car sped along the streets leading to the new mystery house both Mitchell and George had spoken so highly of. The Holston River. She liked the idea of living on the bank of a river. The image filled her mind with adventures, boats traveling up and down, sailing to far-off towns, children splashing and playing in the calmer inlets and around the shorelines, floating in black soft inner tubes and splashing their buddies.
The city disappeared behind her, leaving her with a new vision of countryside, old homes, and open fields. She’d heard East Tennessee beat West Tennessee hands down when it came to beauty, filled with rolling hills, smoky mountains, and wild forests. In the distance, the Holston River sparkled in the sun, moving onward with blind determination, oblivious to carrier, cargo, or crew. A few more miles, and George turned down a road that delved deeper into the country.
About two miles later, he turned into a gravel driveway leading to a two-story stone-block house fronted with four stout columns shrouding a porch. The back lawn stretched toward the river. Large bushes shielded the home and away from prying eyes. George turned off the ignition, and Claire opened the door, eyes scanning in all directions.
In an instant, she learned that the land of “milk and honey” consisted of rolling pasture land covered with the greenest grass, where birds quarreled in nearby trees, and the sweetest perfume scented the air with an earthy blend of grass, soil, and wildflowers. A quick breeze wafted up from the river, bringing with it the characteristic smell of mud and the faintest hint of fish. At once, she decided she liked this place, didn’t know why, didn’t care; but this would be home for a long time. Something inside her suggested forever.
“Think you’ll like it here?” George had come around to her side and placed a hand on her arm.
She smiled and nodded. “This is perfect.”
“I’ll get your bags.” He turned around and walked to the trunk.
Mitchell came up beside Claire, giving her a light hug. “This is exactly what you need. I couldn’t have picked a better place myself.”
A long wooden porch held two wicker rockers on either side of a black-painted wooden door. George pulled out a key, inserted it into the lock, and opened the door. Claire stepped across the threshold into an open living room, which opened into the dining room on the far left. On the right, two steps led to a small landing, offering a quick cross-over into the kitchen and the upstairs bedrooms.
“As you can guess, the dining room over there leads back to the kitchen. It’s one continuous area.” George turned and grinned at Claire. “I’ve aired out the place and had everything dusted and cleaned. It’s all ready for you.”
“Just beautiful.” She gazed around at the simple, but functional furniture. The right side of the room held a sofa, coffee table, and some wing-back chairs sat by a small fireplace. The area on the left side of the living room had been sectioned off into a study area, complete with a larger fireplace, bookcases filled with books, a love seat, and writing desk with chair.
“Let’s get your things upstairs, so you’ll know where to lay your head at night.” Mitchell and Claire followed George up the solid wooden steps. The upstairs housed four ample bedrooms, with the master bedroom at the end of the hall on the left. “You can go outside and sit when you want to.” He pointed in the direction of a door in the middle of the wall. “It’s kind of nice at night when you want a breath of fresh air.”
Claire surveyed the room, with its large four-poster bed, with a nightstand and lamp next to it. A divan sat in one corner. She spied the door leading into the bathroom. An antique dresser and armoire completed the furnishings. “I like having the bathroom so close by.”
“It’s handy and private. There’s another bathroom to the right of the stairs
as we came up. You’ll have three other rooms, in case Mitchell ever comes to visit. Or if you have other guests.”
Heat flared through her cheeks, and all she managed was a quick nod.
“Your phones work, all the electricity and appliances work, and the water runs. I made sure of that before you came.”
“George, you’ve done an awful lot. This home is wonderful.”
“You’ll like the river too. There’s a back door in the kitchen that leads right down to it, but the bank is steep. You won’t have such an easy time getting down to the water.”
Laughing, she said, “I highly doubt I’ll be jumping in for a swim, but I’m glad you warned me.”
Mitchell had left the room.
“Tomorrow I’ll take you back downtown, and we’ll get you some more clothes, some food, and anything else you need. You do have a change of clothes for one more day?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be fine. And I want to see your store. Mitchell has spoken highly of it.”
He beamed. “My store’s the best department store around. There’s some nice things in there, and I have a women’s section too. Of course, there are other dress shops, so you’ll have plenty to choose from. And we have drug stores for anything else you’ll need.”
“We’ll have it covered, so don’t worry. I’m easy to please.” Her gaze trailed up to his. The way he stared at her, face filled with intense interest, set off a quick burst of excitement. For a moment, her mind shot back to the early days when she and Adrian had first fallen in love. Blushing, she averted her gaze and focused on the divan in the corner, anything to break the spell. Whether or not she liked it, Adrian was still her husband, even if only for worse instead of better.
She considered her new home far away from home, with no support, no vehicle, and no money. The realization of needing an income hit her with startling surprise. Adrian’s money wouldn’t be accessible any longer. “I’ll need a job. I don’t have any money right now for rent.” Earlier excitement gave way to cold fear. How would she support herself? Adrian had cared for her and made all the money. She hadn’t much in the way of skills.
Escape From Purgatory Page 11
