Final Rights

by Tena Frank

  “Lee Lou?”

  “Leave me alone, Tate.”

  “Lee Lou love me?”

  “I love you, Tate, but leave me alone a minute, will ya?”

  Now on full alert, Tate walked over and wrapped her little arms around her sister, resting her cheek against Lee Lou’s bowed head. “Don’t cry, Lee Lou.” Tate patted her sister’s back and began slowly rocking.

  Tate learned much from Lee Lou—not just rule following and compassion, sadness, responsibility, forgiveness, nurturing—but also how to survive in a world with parents whose best efforts to care for her fell far short of what she needed. In a world like that, sisters take care of sisters as best they can.

  At the hands of Lee Lou, Tate gained something equally as valuable as the survival skills that buoyed her through childhood. She mastered the fundamentals of education—numbers, letters, shapes, colors, words—long before the time came for her to attend school herself.

  All this occurred because Lee Lou hated school. Basically a shy child, she preferred sitting at the desks in the back of the classroom. She never volunteered to answer questions posed by the teacher. When called on unexpectedly, she felt embarrassed and became tongue-tied.

  Lee Lou’s main problem with school, however, lay in the fact that she found it supremely boring. At home she had access to the whole world through the magazines her mother bought on subscription. Each week, a new one arrived in the mailbox. Lee Lou preferred LOOK or LIFE to Ladies’ Home Journal because they had the best pictures, and she quickly took to losing herself in the magazines long before she herself could read.

  As Lee Lou flipped through the pictures, she made up stories for herself and Tate about what she saw. Lee Lou’s imagination allowed her to soar beyond the confines of her small world into exotic places with strange animals and vast horizons, and always she was safe there in the world of her own making. So sitting in a kindergarten class hearing about Jack and Jill getting hurt while running up a little hill seemed a silly waste of her time.

  Obviously, school was important. Everyone told Lee Lou so and she believed them. She tried hard to pay attention in class, but when her mind wandered, the teachers reprimanded her and she drew even farther into her shell of embarrassment. Her mother scolded her for the Cs and Ds on her report card, so Lee Lou attempted to apply herself even more. The message about the importance of education sunk in, and she figured if it was that important for her, then it must be valuable for Tate as well.

  Since no avenue of escape from school presented itself to Lee Lou, she decided to do the next best thing. Each day she trudged home with her assignments in her notebook. She spread the homework out on the floor and insisted that Tate sit and study with her. Tate proved to be an unwilling student, however. Unaware that a child of 2 and 1/2 years lacks the cognitive development of a 5 year old, Lee Lou took Tate’s immaturity as stubbornness. Nonetheless, she remained determined to teach Tate. This pursuit required creativity on Lee Lou’s part, and she possessed that in abundance. Each lesson became a game in Lee Lou’s hands and she played those games with Tate.

  Tate remembered big block letters and numbers printed on colored construction paper. Lee Lou taught her to turn those letters into words, like putting a puzzle together. A-T-C became “cat,” O-D-G became “dog,” and L-L-B-A became “ball.” Numbers could be used to count, or to add and subtract. Tate steadily developed the skill to put those pieces of brightly colored paper in the necessary order to make the correct answer to whatever question Lee Lou presented. Tate learned to draw the letters and numbers herself and to keep them on the lines of the paper Lee Lou used for her lessons. It wasn’t easy for either of them, but with Lee Lou’s persistence and Tate’s growing willingness, Tate learned to read, write, add and subtract.

  By the time she entered kindergarten, Tate could produce the work expected of a second-grader. She carried this advantage with her throughout her school life. She learned effortlessly in most cases, and when something proved more difficult, her curiosity usually kicked in and she dedicated herself to learning what was being taught. Every challenge became a puzzle for Tate, an invitation to dig in and figure out the answer. It could be a mathematical equation—not her favorite by any means—or the theme of a book report, the motivation behind another person’s behavior, even the secrets of an old house sitting on a hill in Montford. They all appealed to Tate as puzzles to be solved.

  SIX

  1927

  Harland Freeman waited for his opportunity. It materialized on a Thursday afternoon at the end of English class. Ellie Vance rose from her desk at the final bell, knocking her books onto the floor.

  Mortified, Ellie stooped to pick up her books just as Harlan Freeman approached. Their eyes met as he reached down to help.

  Ellie couldn’t help it. She actually swooned for a moment—not enough for Harland to notice, she thought, but she recognized the swoon for what it was, and she felt both excitement and shame.

  He’s out of my league. Of all the thoughts running through Ellie’s mind, this one stood out. With only one disappointing date under her belt during her entire high school experience thus far, she knew most boys fit in that category. Harland Freeman and boys like him most definitely did not give Ellie Vance and girls like her a passing glance. But in that moment she allowed herself the dream as he held her gaze, looking deep into her, it seemed.

  “Let me help, Ellie,” Harland boomed. When Harland spoke, he never did so quietly, never did so with any indication that what he said varied at all from exactly the right thing to say at the moment.

  “It . . . it’s okay, Harland. Uh, don’t bother . . .” Ellie couldn’t control her stammering. Dark and deep, Harland’s eyes seemed to convey something Ellie had not seen before—the hint of interest she so often hoped for from boys but never felt. Confusion clouded her thoughts. Harland Freeman could not possibly be interested in her, could he?

  “Gotta’ run. I’m late for practice!” he bellowed as he dropped her books into her arms. “See ya later!”

  Ellie’s heart raced a bit when she heard that. See ya later. Does he mean that? No, of course not—just something to say. But as she gathered her books and herself back together, she felt a little glimmer of hope building deep inside her.

  Apparently Harland did mean it. Two days later, he approached her as she stood at her locker at the end of the day.

  “Hey, Ellie!” That booming voice again, this time calling out to her. “I’ll walk with you, okay?”

  “Uh, okay, uh . . . sure.” Ellie faltered as she took in the full force of Harland’s dark eyes looking squarely at her. “I’m just going home.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go through the park.” He nonchalantly took her books and headed toward the door. Ellie followed, half a step behind at first, amazed that she, Ellie Vance, had him, Harland Freeman, for an escort.

  As they left the school building, Harland called out to some of his friends who stood in a huddle under the trees at the entrance. He waved brightly. Ellie felt very proud in his company and to be shown off to his friends like that. She barely registered the smirks on their faces as she and Harland passed.

  Harland strolled through the park with her. She remained in disbelief that he found her interesting, but he jabbered away as they walked along, and Ellie let herself feel the warmth of his presence flowing over her.

  “I’ve been noticing you for a while, Ellie,” he said as he looped her hand around his elbow. The slightest touch from him sent delicious, unfamiliar chills through her body and she longed for more. Though Ellie continued to glow after his announcement, he said little more about her.

  The rest of his chatter was about himself—about the current baseball season and his team’s chance of taking the championship; about what he had planned for himself after graduation, what he would become in the future. Maybe business, perhaps politics . . . but whatever path he chose, Harland Freeman seemed sure a wonderful life awaited him.

  Ellie p
referred to believe he shared all this with her because he wanted her to be a part of it. Thrilled, scared and tongue-tied, she had lots of questions for him, but none of them would form fully enough for her to ask. She answered most of them for herself anyway, at least her version of what life as Harland Freeman’s girlfriend—maybe even his wife!—would be like. Ellie and Harland living happily with plenty of friends, all of whom celebrated their love along with them. The years of their life unfolding, filled with stories about how they met, how they watched each other from afar before finally becoming a couple, how they dated and courted and fell in love and . . .

  But Ellie knew she was getting ahead of herself. In this moment, she enjoyed just walking through the park with Harland Freeman, listening to him talk, soaking up the warm sunshine and cool breeze on her skin. When he asked her to sit with him for a while, she believed this moment would stretch into a lifetime.

  They sat under a huge old tree for an hour, Harland talking about himself and his dreams, Ellie captivated and silent, drinking in the essence of him and imagining her life with him. He finally wound down and walked with her the rest of the way home.

  “See ya later,” he said. No promises. No requests. But Ellie had heard that from Harland before, and he had, in fact, come back to see her later. He would this time, too. She held tightly to her fragile certainty as she watched him depart.

  And the next day, her optimism proved to be correct. “How ’bout we get together after practice, Ellie?” he asked as they passed in the hall.

  “Yes, of course, I’d love to.” She beamed back at him, aware of the curious glances from nearby classmates.

  “Great! Meet me in the park, okay? Under our tree? About six o’clock?” His dark eyes sparkling, he smiled that smile of his, the one with all the teeth showing, the one that set her heart to racing.

  “Yes! See you then!” Ellie barely contained her excitement. She and Harland Freeman meeting for an evening together—almost a date! Ellie Vance had an almost date with Harland Freeman!

  She arrived at the designated spot in the park right on time. All primped and preened, she looked as pretty as she possibly could. She wore her best dress. Not her fancy dress, but her very best everyday dress. She had touched Lily of the Valley perfume behind both ears and between her tiny breasts. Not that Harland would notice, but she wanted to be the best Ellie she could be for their first date.

  Harland bounded into the park almost fifteen minutes late. Nearly frantic by the time she saw him taking the steps two at a time, she heard his reassuring apology and melted a bit.

  “So sorry, practice ran late. Coach is putting me in first string! Can you believe it? First string! Just in time for the big game! Johnny sprained an ankle in practice today. Damn sad luck for Johnny, but damn good luck for me! I may be the luckiest man in town just now!” he said, and then he leaned down and gave Ellie the first passionate kiss of her life.

  She burst into tears. All her dreams flooded into view. Even for an optimist like Ellie, this turn of affairs seemed almost beyond belief. It transported her to a new place, and all her hesitations and worries melted. This boy—this man—mesmerized her! Harland, a real man who loved her! Euphoria engulfed her.

  Harland quickly spread out the blanket he had tucked under his arm and pulled Ellie onto it. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. She responded in kind. She did not know where her passion came from. She had not experienced it before, but she went with it. She explored his body with her hands, just as he explored hers. She pushed into him when he pulled her closer, and when he rolled on top of her, she surrendered to his insistent hands and mouth.

  As the sun slowly descended in the western sky, the shadows deepened under the spreading tree where Ellie and Harland were locked in embrace. Ellie lost all sense of time, all sense of the world around her, all sense of herself except for the captivating, all-encompassing, unrelenting passion she felt for Harland Freeman. When he moved his hand to her thigh and then up a bit higher, Ellie felt her own warm wetness. Terror gripped her, then quickly passed as she felt the delicious waves of . . . what? Nothing she had felt before, but she somehow knew it . . . sexual passion, lust. Unavoidable. Different from romance, more powerful, more dangerous, more luscious, more unforgiving. But she went with it, she went with Harland all the way to where he wanted to go and when he finished, she lay back dazed and exhausted.

  Harland rolled off her and laughed out loud. He laughed boisterously. He brushed his hair back off his sweating forehead with a hand rake and let out a deep, audible sigh. He patted Ellie’s hand before reaching down to zip up his pants.

  “Ellie, my dear, that was quite something!” he said, the jovial tone still evident in his voice. “Quite something, indeed!”

  Ellie tried to bring herself back to the moment. Her body still quivered from the tension that had built while Harland gratified himself with her. Ecstasy, not satisfaction. Although confused, she recognized the difference. She wanted more, and shame for her desire filled her. Shame for that and for having done what she had just done with Harland Freeman. She tried to reassure herself. Harland loved her, and their happy life together awaited. He must love her or he would not have wanted her or taken her the way he just had.

  “Oh, Harland, that was so . . .”

  “Yeah, great!” Harland got up and began tucking in his shirt and straightening himself up. He reached for Ellie and pulled her upright too as she hurriedly put herself and her own clothes back in order. He gave her a quick embrace, picked up the blanket and said, “You can get back home okay, can’t you? I have to go.” A self-satisfied smile formed on his handsome face, but it did not invite Ellie in.

  “I, well, I . . .” Confusion reigned. Didn’t they have so much to talk about? Surely he wanted to stay with her as long as possible.

  And then she returned abruptly and fully back to the moment. Her body still reverberated from the encounter, but her mind returned to sharp focus and awareness. The romance and mystery of Harland Freeman evaporated, and Ellie knew what had really just happened. Her stomach turned and she thought for a moment she would throw up.

  “Yes, well, I . . . yes. I’m fine, Harland.” Ellie said this with conviction as she gathered herself up emotionally just as she had done in the past when something bad happened. She closed down the festering passion that clawed at her, shut off her dreams of the future with Harland and set about solving the problem of how to forget about him entirely.

  Some problems simply cannot be solved, but Ellie didn’t know that yet.

  “Okay, see ya around.” Harland threw a casual wave in her direction.

  Ellie watched as he turned away and headed back up the path to the street, using not his normal walking gait but that swagger she had witnessed occasionally from boys who had just faced and won some kind of challenge.

  Harland’s words echoed through Ellie’s mind. She knew exactly what the difference in his choice of words meant. “See ya around.” Not “See ya later.” Ellie quelled her tears, set her shoulders straight and walked herself home.

  The following days tortured Ellie. She did not expect to see Harland except in passing in the halls. She did not expect that he would seek her out or give her the wide-mouthed, all-teeth-showing smile, or that he would gaze at her again with a sparkle in his deep, dark eyes. But even though she did not expect anything at all from him, it still shocked her when she overheard him bragging to his friends.

  “Even easier than I thought! Just a walk through the park, a little bit of talking . . .” When she heard the sniggering and congratulations of Harland’s friends, she ran to the bathroom to throw up again.

  Strong and resilient, Ellie knew she could hide her shame. She could go about her life in a fairly normal fashion, keep her grades up and spend time with her family and friends. She could move past feeling like Harland’s Conquest and get back to feeling like Almost-pretty Ellie Vance who had plenty going for her in other ways. Under most circumstances, Ellie knew sh
e could still live a happy life.

  But Ellie soon realized normal circumstances had finally escaped her. She did not have the luxury of time to mend from the damage done to her by Harland Freeman and her own damn optimism.

  Ellie was pregnant. Ellie Vance needed a husband, and she needed a husband now.

  SEVEN

  2004

  Cally wanted to go home. She sat in the snarl of Los Angeles traffic, headed to a meeting that could catapult her even farther up the corporate ladder, and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and go home.

  A reluctant success. That’s how she thought of herself. She had fallen into her career by accident, starting out as a receptionist in a prestigious LA public relations firm right after she graduated from college. The job allowed her to pay the bills while she cast around for something she really wanted to do. Over twenty-five years later she found herself at the same firm with a fancy title, a coveted corner office and a reputation as a driven powerhouse with ethics.

  Ethics were not a requirement for a good publicist, but Cally placed personal integrity at the top of her list of the Ten Most Important Things in Life. Depending on her mood, her circumstances and the angle of the moon, her list changed with some regularity, but integrity never drifted from the top, always followed closely by honesty and dependability.

  Cally showed up for other people. Whether they recognized it or not, beneath her fierce precision and demand for excellence, she cared deeply about people. She put her own needs after the needs of her clients and the company more of the time than she cared to admit to herself or to anyone else.

  But it was all catching up to her. She questioned whether she wanted the recognition and the added responsibility that would come from seeing the name of the firm changed to include her. Pearson, Graystone and Thornton. It had a ring to it, but the price would be high and Cally was really, really tired. She would talk to Laurel tonight. Maybe they could clear their schedules enough to take some time in the mountains. That would be good. She inched along in traffic. That may be just the right thing.