The Bride’s House

by Sandra Dallas

  “For what?” Pearl asked.

  “For one thing and another. For her and you.”

  “You’ve led an exemplary life. You’ve been a mother to me since the day I was born.”

  “There’s things I could have done, wished I’d done. It might have eased your life. I could have told Frank Curry—”

  Pearl put her hand over the old woman’s mouth. “You could have told him nothing. He didn’t love me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what Nealie would have wanted. She’d have told me different. I made bad decisions. I promised to take care of you, and I let you down.”

  Pearl shushed her, troubled that at the end, Aunt Lidie’s mind was no longer clear. She took a washcloth and wiped the old woman’s forehead, and Mrs. Travers began to mutter. Charlie came into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. “Your mother died here, in this bed.” His voice trailed off, and he turned and went to the window.

  Then he paced the room, until Pearl said, “Papa, please sit down.” But he didn’t. He left the house and did not come back for a long time. When he did, Pearl was sitting on a straight chair beside the bed, her hands over her face, tears seeping out from between her fingers. Mrs. Travers lay still, the sheet drawn up to her chin.

  “She’s gone,” Charlie said heavily.

  Pearl nodded, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “She asked me to forgive her, asked me over and over again, but I didn’t know what she meant.”

  “Was there a final word?”

  Pearl nodded. “It was ‘Nealie.’”

  * * *

  Mrs. Travers had been dead for more than a year that morning in June 1929 when a man in a fine automobile called.

  Pearl saw him from the upstairs window as he alighted from the car, but she did not recognize him. Not so many men called on her father now, although the visitors had not stopped altogether. Men still sought out Charlie for his knowledge of ore bodies or simply to talk about old times. Charlie’s greatest pleasure was sitting down with longtime friends and business associates who remembered the past, so Pearl was glad to see one of them coming up the walk.

  She did not pay much attention to the man as she peered out of the window, since she was more interested in his car. She had not seen one that large in Georgetown, although there were many autos in the county now. The road to Denver had been improved, and one could make the drive in a couple of hours, although a few drivers returning to Denver could not manage the steep grade on Floyd Hill and had to either put their cars into reverse and climb up the mountain backward or place their vehicles on flatcars and ride home on the train. And the road was passable only in decent weather, so only a fool would drive it in a snowstorm. But this was June, and it was a common sight to see sightseers, a few in old-fashioned dusters and goggles, roaring about Georgetown in their flashy convertibles. The visitor’s auto was obviously expensive, and Pearl wondered if it was a Pierce Arrow or a Cadillac, but she was not up on such things, so she could not tell.

  The man rang the bell, and because she supposed that Charlie was downstairs, Pearl did not answer. When there was a second ring, Pearl remembered that her father had gone out, so she went down the steps, a little curious now to find out who was driving such a splendid vehicle and why he was calling. She hoped he would stay until Charlie returned.

  She opened the massive wooden door and pushed at the screen, then stopped with her hand on the frame, unable to move. The smell of lilacs overwhelmed her, and she thought, they were blooming the first time he called. The scent always reminded her of him, and sometimes the connection was so strong that she closed herself in her room to keep from melancholy, for even after all those years, memories of him still did that to her. She could not speak then but only stared. It was a meeting she had supposed in her mind a thousand times, but one for which she was not prepared. So she said nothing, only stood mute.

  “Hello, Pearl,” Frank Curry said.

  “Mr. Curry,” she replied, her voice working a little.

  “Frank. You used to call me Frank.”

  Pearl wanted to say there were a great many things that used to be, but she swallowed the retort. She would not greet him in anger. She had forgiven her father, but had she forgiven Frank Curry? She did not think so.

  “Will you invite me in?”

  “Yes,” Pearl said, opening the screen. She did not hold out her hand but stood aside to let him enter. “Papa is not at home.”

  “It’s not your father I’ve come to see. It’s you.”

  Pearl didn’t know what to say, so she turned and led the way into the parlor, conscious as she went into the room that it was as worn and as dated as the outside of the house. She hoped that Frank hadn’t noticed. She did not want his pity. When Pearl turned, he appeared not to be looking at the house but at her, and that disoriented her. She could not think what to say, so she pointed to one of the love seats, the damask threadbare, while she seated herself in a small, hard chair, as far from Frank as possible.

  He sat down and placed his hat on the sofa beside him. Pearl noticed that he did not carry a walking stick and wondered if he had given it up or simply left it in the automobile. They sat awkwardly a moment, before Pearl found her voice and said, “You are looking well.”

  “A little fleshier, and my hair has its share of gray, but I am healthy, thank you.” He laughed easily, and Pearl remembered how he had always been more at ease with her in that room than she had been with him. This meeting would not make his heart flutter as it did hers. “And you,” he added. “You wear the years well yourself. Before, you were merely pretty. Now you are beautiful.”

  Pearl felt the color rise in her face, and she touched her cameo—not the old one that had belonged to her mother but the cameo she had purchased in Italy. She had not sold it with her other possessions. It was her one extravagance, and she was glad she’d worn it. Perhaps Frank would notice it instead of the dismal appearance of the house. “It has been a long time since I saw you last. Now I am nearly fifty.” She wondered why she had said such a thing.

  “I’ve embarrassed you,” Frank said. “I didn’t mean to. I remember you do not like compliments, but I am only speaking the truth.”

  Pearl blushed even more and turned aside for a moment. Then she said in a businesslike tone, because she could not bear for Frank to say another thing to her that was personal, “You said you are here to see me. Is it because you want to talk to me about mining?” She wondered if he heard the sarcasm in her voice.

  “It’s that very subject I’ve come about.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed an envelope, which he held out to her. “Your good judgment about mining brought me here.”

  Pearl looked at the envelope, but she did not take it until Frank stood and dropped it into her lap. Then she picked it up and opened it and removed a check. She stared at it in disbelief before looking up and saying, “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s the return of your father’s loan to me. The shares are in your name, so I believe the money is to be repaid to you. I did not include interest, because you still have the shares.”

  “But the stock is worthless.”

  Frank grinned. “Was worthless, but now automobile makers are demanding molybdenum steel, and so are other manufacturers. My partner and I bought up all the claims in the area and have a monopoly, and we are about to announce that the mine will reopen—at far greater capacity than anyone could imagine.” His face lit up the way Charlie’s once had when he talked about mining. “So your worthless stock is going to be worth a great deal.”

  “How much?” Pearl could not help blurting out the question.

  Frank leaned forward as if they were conspirators. “I can’t say, but I would guess that in six months, it will be worth the fifty thousand dollars that it cost when it was issued. And beyond that, who knows? It can only go higher. You are, by the way, a major shareholder, so there will be significant dividends.”

  Pearl was stunned. T
he $50,000 check was more money than she had ever expected to see again. She and her father could live very well on that for the rest of their lives. But another $50,000 worth of stock, as well, with dividends coming in! They would be rich again. “Are you quite sure?” she asked.

  Frank laughed. “No, of course I’m not. You have been around mining all your life, so you know that nothing about it is sure. But I believe my figure is a good guess. Molybdenum will be in demand for a great many years, and we have the finest prospect in the country.”

  “We?”

  Frank smiled at Pearl, and she remembered how white and even his teeth were. “As you know, I had the devil’s own time raising money. The dogs in Georgetown were friendlier than the bankers in New York. But in time, I found a partner. He doesn’t want to be identified, but I’ll give you his name if you promise not to tell your father.”

  “Not tell Papa? Why shouldn’t I tell Papa?”

  Frank shrugged. “He said he knew your father years ago, and they did not get along.”

  “Who is he?” Pearl couldn’t imagine anyone who didn’t like Charlie.

  “My partner is Minerals Investment Company. The principal is Will Spaulding. He and Mr. Dumas had a falling-out over something.”

  Pearl said nothing.

  “Will didn’t know I was acquainted with your father until recently, when Mr. Dumas’s name was mentioned quite by accident. I’d worked with Will for four or five years before the subject of Georgetown came up, and that led to your father’s name—and yours.”

  “Mine?” Pearl asked sharply. She did not care to have Frank discuss her. She wondered if Frank had told the man how he had shamed her by breaking their engagement.

  “Not long after that, Will became interested in the molybdenum venture. But of course, we had done other investments together. I made sure he knew everything I had done, and not done. I had learned my lesson about pretending to be someone I wasn’t. He said he admired my honesty. We get on famously.”

  “Then you have done well?”

  “Very well. But of course, I couldn’t come back to Georgetown until the molybdenite claim had proven itself. Even at that, I am premature, but I think your father will have to agree that it will be successful.”

  Pearl did not understand. “Papa cares nothing about molybdenum.”

  “He cares fifty thousand dollars’ worth.”

  The woman rose and turned her back on Frank, fussing with the objects on the piano. Without looking at him, she said, “I believe that was the price he paid you to break off our engagement.”

  Frank took a few steps toward her until his hand was on her shoulder. “You may think of it that way, but it’s not the truth.”

  “Did you believe I wouldn’t know what the money was for? Papa paid you fifty thousand dollars to stay away from me.” Pearl squared her shoulders and held her head high, hoping Frank would not guess how humiliated she had been—and was still.

  “And he never told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  Frank took a step backward and braced himself against the back of the sofa. “He said he would never allow you to marry me, would stop the wedding at all costs. After he made me see that I could not provide for you, I agreed. Then he loaned me the fifty thousand for the molybdenum project and said if I paid it off and made as much again off molybdenum, I could come back, and he would not stand in the way of our marriage. I had to promise him I wouldn’t tell you. Nor would I ask you to wait. It has taken me almost twenty years, but I have made the money on molybdenum. I thought that over the years, he might have told you.”

  Pearl turned around and stared at Frank. “I have never heard such a preposterous story. You were after my money. Papa gave you the fifty thousand dollars. Later, I found the receipt. I have often wondered if Papa arranged for me to find it.”

  “How awful for you.” Frank bowed his head. “That’s not true, but I admit that without your father’s money, I could not have provided for you in the beginning, and I would not ask you to live in poverty. Over the years, I’ve wondered if that mattered, wondered if we should have married anyway even though we’d have had to live on a miner’s pay. Will Spaulding said I was a fool, that he himself had given up a woman he loved and regretted it the rest of his life.”

  When Pearl did not respond, Frank said, “I could have come back with the money I made with Will in other ventures, but your father was quite insistent that the money had to be repaid from molybdenum, and I’d agreed.”

  Confused, Pearl slowly pressed one key of the piano and then another. “Why would you take his money?”

  “Why wouldn’t I take it? What was there to lose? I needed it to develop the claim. And I believed at the time that without it, there was no chance of our ever being together.”

  Pearl felt weak and gripped the back of the love seat, clutching at it to steady herself as she made her way back to her chair and sat down. “It has been nearly twenty years.”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Seventeen years and seven months,” Pearl corrected.

  Frank laughed. Then Pearl laughed, and of a sudden, her heart felt as light as the blossoms on the lilac bushes. The room seemed filled with sunshine. She heard the birds outside and again smelled the scent of lilacs carried by the breeze.

  “Do you still care for me?” Frank asked.

  Pearl looked down at her hands and did not reply, would not reply.

  “This is not so easy,” he said. “We are middle-aged, and we both have changed a good deal over the years.” Pearl started to say something, but Frank held up his hand. “Oh, I know how you have changed. Mrs. Travers kept me informed. She wrote to me every year.”

  “She’s gone,” Pearl said, and Frank nodded as if he already knew. Then Pearl asked, “Have you changed?”

  “I’d like to believe I’m a better man.” He thought a moment before adding, “And I have more money.”

  “Yes, there is that.” She played with a tack that had come loose on the chair, jabbing the edge of it into her finger. “Perhaps you will wonder then if I would be after your fortune? You must know that Papa’s wealth is gone, and we live like imposters in this house.”

  “I know that, and if you choose to marry me for my money, then I am well satisfied.” He paused. “One thing for certain has not changed. We still love each other.”

  Pearl pushed the tip of her finger so hard against the tack that it popped out and fell onto the carpet. “How do you know?”

  “I know my own feelings, and I know that you are constant.”

  “What are you saying, Frank?”

  “That I hope to marry you.”

  Pearl wanted to stand, to go to the window and look out across the town at the mountains, which had always steadied her, but she could not get up. She looked at her finger and rubbed the tiny indentation of the tack with the forefinger of her other hand. “Didn’t you ever marry? I would have thought you would.”

  “I told you I’d always love you. Those were my last words to you. There was never anyone else. And I am bold enough to think there was never anyone else for you. After all, you promised you would marry me, and you never told me you took back that promise.”

  Pearl stared at him.

  Frank went to her then and slowly raised her from the chair, until she was standing in front of him. “Now, I’ll ask you a second time. Will you marry me, Pearl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Today?”

  “Today?” Pearl repeated.

  “My automobile is outside. We can drive to Denver this minute and be married.”

  “But I’m not ready. I have no wedding dress, no trousseau. You must ask Papa first.”

  “No. I will not ask your father. I am asking only you. And you had a pink dress once. Do you still have it?”

  “I never wore it again.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have.” Frank kissed her and held her a long time. “I have already
reserved the bridal suite at the Brown Palace Hotel.”

  “But what if I had said no? You’d have lost your money.”

  “The risk was worth it.”

  When he released her, Frank told Pearl, “Shuckle,” and she went upstairs into the storage room and took down the box with the pink dress. She packed a bag and wrote a note to her father, telling him that she had gone to Denver on an important matter and would be back the next day. Then Frank helped her into the automobile—a Packard, as it turned out—and they sped away.

  The two were wed that afternoon in Denver in the Presbyterian church in sight of the capitol building. Pearl wore the pink dress, which was a little old-fashioned now, but what did that matter? And then the two retired to the Brown Palace Hotel.

  Frank suggested they send Charlie a telegram, telling him that Pearl was now Mrs. Frank Curry. But Pearl thought that would be cruel. Besides, the shock might affect her father’s health. So the next afternoon, they motored back to Georgetown, drove slowly to enjoy each other’s company. At the Bride’s House, Frank helped Pearl from the car, then holding hands, the two climbed the steps and went inside. Although she was used to entering the study without knocking, Pearl tapped on the door nonetheless, and Charlie looked up. “You’re home. I was concerned—” He stopped when he saw Frank standing behind Pearl. Charlie did not rise but sat there, staring at Frank for a long time. “What does this mean?” he asked, although it was clear that he knew.

  “Mr. Curry has repaid the loan you made him so long ago, and we were married yesterday.”

  “Against my wishes?”