“It is. Because my baby’s father will be in jail.”
Rose flinched.
“But if Mr. Rutherford had sexual relations with you, that’s where he belongs. Even though I love him very much, I’d be the first to say that.”
Rose stared down at the stoop, the toe of her tennis shoe tracing a fissure in the concrete. At least she hadn’t gone back inside yet; I took that as an invitation to say more. Just speak from the heart, I thought. Trust that the right words will come.
“On the other hand, if you’re not telling the truth, and Mr. Rutherford goes to jail, it’s going to hurt a lot of people. Not just Mr. Rutherford, but his mother, his brother, his daughter Katherine who’s only five, and all his students who believed in him and trusted him. But out of all those people, there’s one person who’ll hurt more than anyone else. Any idea who that might be?”
She didn’t answer, but I noticed a slight tightening in her cheek muscles.
“You, Rose. Because if you lied about Mr. Rutherford in order to be in the Miss Harriet Hall pageant and if you win, you’ll never enjoy it. You’ll always know you sacrificed people’s happiness for it. That’ll eat away at you for years, long after the pageant is over.”
It occurred to me that I could have given myself the very same lecture. Hadn’t I sacrificed people’s happiness for money?
I waited for her to say something but she still didn’t speak. I kept quiet for a few moments to let her mull over the matter and then I said this, “If you look me in the eye and tell me Mr. Rutherford seduced you, I’ll accept that and be on my merry way. Does that sound fair to you?”
Rose lifted her head; she kept blinking as if she were on the verge of tears. She looked so pitiful I honestly thought a small miracle was going to occur, and she was going to take back her accusations against Carl. Rose parted her lips as if to speak, paused a moment, and then abruptly pivoted and bolted back inside the house.
“Damn. I honestly I thought you’d convinced her,” Joelle said.
I kept looking longingly at the closed door, wishing it would open again, but nothing happened. I’d lost her for good.
Joelle gave me a look of awe. “You were good with her. How is it you changed so much and I haven’t even noticed? My guess is you’re a great teacher, and will also be a wonderful mother.”
“Thank you.” It was the nicest compliment she’d ever given me. “Let me just try one more thing.”
I dug out a piece of paper and scribbled my phone number, address, and email on a card. “Just in case you change your mind,” I wrote. Then I pushed it through the mail slot in the front door.
Later, I stopped by a florist to purchase a dozen red American Beauty roses and drove to Westwood Hills Cemetery, located only a few blocks from the Rose Hill Country Club.
I parked my Porsche and strolled along the meandering stone path that cut through the gravesites. It wasn’t the best day to be outdoors. Fog slunk eerily around the headstones, and a damp coldness soaked through my wool coat. I ducked my head against the chill and continued to walk until I reached my mother’s grave.
My father used to take me every January third, the anniversary of her death, and I hated to visit. I always feared my mom would do something supernatural like conjure up a breeze to toss pebbles in my face or summon hail from the heavens to pelt me on my head.
I gently laid the roses on her grave. “It’s Toni Lee,” I said softly.
I’d never talked to her before at her gravesite, but over the next half-hour, I made up for it. I told her about finding the diary, and how I’d always felt like I was somehow defective because she didn’t love me. I also told her that lately I’d been feeling better about myself, which was bizarre. Except for the baby, my life was like a wrecked Cadillac, smoking at the bottom of a ravine.
“It’d be nice if you gave me a sign you loved me.”
I knew my request was silly and unrealistic, but it didn’t matter because I was talking to a granite stone.
“Maybe you could make it rain rose petals or have a bird alight on my shoulder? It doesn’t even have to be that showy. I’d even take a house fly landing on my hand.”
I sat on a stone bench beside her grave, waiting for at least ten minutes, shivering and watching my breath mingle with the fog.
Nothing happened, of course. I didn’t know what I’d expected.
“Toni Lee?”
I looked up. My daddy stood at my mother’s gravesite with his own bouquet of roses; his were yellow.
“When did you get home?” I said.
“Too late last night to call. Surprised to see you here.”
I shrugged.
My daddy picked up a couple of twigs and leaves from my mother’s grave and laid his flowers next to mine. “Corny told me about the diary. I’m really sorry. Wish you would have said something to me. I could have cleared this up a long time ago.”
No, you couldn’t, I thought. I’d have been even more skeptical of my father’s reassurances than I was of Aunt Cornelia’s. No one could really clear it up except for my mother, and she wasn’t able to talk.
I spread my arms wide to hug him in his bulky ski jacket. “Glad you’re back. Hope your trip to Atlantic City was fun. Did you lose much?”
“Not this trip. Corny said the two of you spent time together. Never known her to goof off during the holidays; she always thinks the planet would spin off its axis if she isn’t around to hold it up. Maybe she’s getting a little mellower in her dotage.”
“Maybe.”
Since Christmas Cornelia had seemed slightly less strident. Even her platinum pageboy wasn’t cut quite as sharply.
“I’m glad I ran into you here. There’s something I need to tell you. I’m making some changes in my life. The biggest one is.…uh…well, I’m getting married.”
“What? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. Who is it?”
My daddy stomped his feet to keep warm. “Her name’s Maureen, and she’s a blackjack dealer in Jersey.”
“A dealer? Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, gambling’s always been a problem for you and—”
He smiled. “Not anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve been going to Gambler’s Anonymous. Haven’t made a single bet in five weeks.”
“Really?
“All thanks to you.”
“Me? I don’t understand. What do I have to do with it?”
“Just what you’ve been doing with your life. You quit acting like a fool. You’re making a go of things without Corny’s help. Hell, I figured if my daughter can do it, so can I. Tonight I’m giving Corny my notice, and then I’m going to unload that big dinosaur of a house and use the money to invest in a business of my own. Maybe my own tree removal business. I miss working outdoors and with my hands. Maureen’s tired of the gaming life. She’ll be moving down here.”
“That’s wonderful!” I kissed him on his cold cheek, his whiskers grazing my skin. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
Now was not the time to tell him I was knocked up and out of work. Didn’t want ruin his moment of triumph.
“Want to know something strange? Ever since I made the decision to live life on better terms, I haven’t hurt myself once. No trips, no spills, no shaving cuts.”
I looked him over. It was the first time I’d seen him without a Band-Aid or a bruise. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed earlier.
“Congratulations. I’m really happy for you, Daddy.”
After I said goodbye to my father and left the cemetery, I decided it was time to have a serious sit-down with my aunt. I drove over to Tranquility Hall and once inside, I found her in her office, door open, pecking away at her computer. Usually she kept the plantation shutters closed, as if she feared the least trickle of sunli
ght or snatch of blue sky could break her concentration. Today the shutters were flung open and light poured in.
I peeked over her shoulder at the screen. Absent were the usual color-coded spreadsheets and pie charts; instead she was visiting a site called Mature Love Match.
A photograph of a silver-haired gentleman was on the screen. His profile was titled “Hubbell Looking for His Katie.” Just like the main characters from The Way We Were. Looked as if Cornelia was surfing for a love connection.
“Aunt Cornelia.”
She was so startled, her arms pinwheeled like a comedian in mid-pratfall. I was afraid she’d fall backwards in her chair but luckily she righted herself at the last minute.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m fine.” She quickly minimized the internet page.
“Is this a bad time? I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“No. I was just…I was in the middle of…You saw, didn’t you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with—”
“Shamelessly peddling myself on the internet?”
“I didn’t know you were in the market.” How funny that both Cornelia and Dad had been shot by Cupid’s arrow.
She avoided my eyes, obviously embarrassed. “Recently I’ve been trying to delegate more tasks so that I might have time for a dinner date or two…What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk about our contract.”
I thought it made sense to start with the first time Dr. Lipton had asked me to falsify records and go on from there, although I still wasn’t sure if she’d believe me or not. After that, I recounted all my recent adventures, including my run-in with Darnell and my visit with Rose Wyld. I didn’t leave anything out, not even the grossly unflattering parts, and Lord knows there were a slew of those. To her credit, Aunt Cornelia listened attentively and abstained from commenting.
“So you were fired?” she said.
“That’s right.”
She picked up her teacup and took a dainty sip. “You were fired, so technically you should kiss your inheritance goodbye.”
“You got it,” I said.
“On the other hand, you’ve turned into a responsible young woman, which was the reason I struck the bargain in the first place. Poetic justice almost demands that you get the money, especially since you were fired unfairly.” She picked up a tube of silver hand cream from her desk and squirted a dime-sized dab on her palm. “What’s an aunt to do?”
“Keep the money. I don’t deserve it.”
“Slow down, missy,” she said sharply. “It’s my decision, not yours.”
“The truth is, I broke the contract in another way.” I touched my belly. “I’m pregnant. I found out over Christmas break.”
Aunt Cornelia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“And I’m not married. As you recall, our contract expressly prohibits bastardy.”
“I’m going to be a great aunt?”
“That’s right.”
A horizontal line formed between her eyes. “Who’s the daddy?”
“Aunt Cornelia!”
“Just getting all the facts. Does my brother know?”
“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
“And what does Carl say about all this?”
“I haven’t told him. He’s got too much on his plate right now.” I told her about Carl’s legal troubles. “Even if he is exonerated, he might get back with his ex-wife. I can’t count on his involvement.”
She sighed. “Raising a child on your own won’t be easy. And you’re still so young. Almost a baby yourself.”
True, but I’d been through so much in the last few months I felt I’d aged at least a couple of decades. When I took the pregnancy test and saw the faint pink cross on the indicator stick, my mind quaked with fear: What if I’m a terrible parent? What if I crush or drop the child? And worst of all, what if, like my mother, I don’t love my baby? Still, I couldn’t imagine doing anything but keeping him or her.
“Well then. Now that my grandnephew or grandniece is on the way, I suppose I’ll have to stay in Rose Hill a while longer.”
“But you’re always saying you don’t like it here.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. You can’t do this all by yourself.”
Maybe I could. Lately I’d been amazed by everything I was accomplishing.
“I appreciate the offer. But I don’t want me or my baby to be a burden on you.”
She touched my shoulder. “You’ve never been a burden to me, and I’m sorry if ever I made you feel that way.”
Another apology from her? That was twice in a month. It was almost more than a niece could take.
“Quit looking at me like I’ve grown a horn in the middle of my head. I only say it because it’s the truth…Now then, about our contract—”
“Yes?”
“You’re right. You violated the terms of our agreement, so you won’t be getting the money. Hate to be a hard case, but I didn’t get to be where I am now by letting people off the hook. A deal’s a deal. I wish it were different, I truly do. I’ll be giving the baby some gifts here and there, but there will be no inheritance for you.”
“I understand completely.”
Now she was acting like the Aunt Cornelia I knew and used to fear. I’d already come to terms with the fact that my days of frivolous spending had come to a permanent end, and had decided that maybe that wasn’t such a terrible fate after all.
After our discussion, Cornelia said there was something she wanted to show me in the solarium. The room was one of my favorites in Tranquility Hall. In a house gloomy with dark wood, musty alcoves, and the residue of dismal memories, the solarium was light-filled and cheery.
She pointed to a white rocking chair in one of the corners. “I gave that chair to your mama. She used to rock you to sleep there every night. I know she’d want you to have it now.”
I’d seen it before but never paid it any mind. I tried to imagine my mother rocking me in it, but my brain rejected the image.
“Go on. Try it out,” she urged.
I plunked down and started rocking gently back and forth. The motion of the chair and the sunlight burning off the earlier fog made me feel drowsy. In moments my limbs grew heavy, my head drooped, and without intending to, I sunk into a brief slumber. I woke to the sound of Cornelia singing. Her voice was soft, high and light. She stopped when I opened my eyes.
“What were you singing?”
“Just a song my mother used to sing when I was a child. Your mother also sang it to you. In that very rocking chair. Funny, I haven’t thought about it in years.”
“Would you sing it again?”
Her cheeks bloomed pink. “I’m not sure if I can even remember the words.”
“Please?”
“I’ll try.”
A tiny turned up nose. Two cheeks just like a rose.
She’s something Heaven has sent. This little girl of mine.
No one will ever know. Just what her coming has been.
She’s all the world to me.
She got through it without once stumbling over lyrics. When she was finished, I stopped the motion of the rocking chair. I felt lightheaded.
“You okay? You look woozy. ”
Suddenly my nostrils filled with the scent of freshly washed cotton and peaches. I could feel the graze of sunlight on my scalp, and the soft cushion of arms. I could taste the sweet tang of milk.
“Toni Lee.”
“I remember,” I said softly.
“Remember what?”
“That song. I remember. My mother sang it to me.”
“That’s impossible. You were much too young.”
Technically that was true, bu
t the memory was vivid, as if it had only happened yesterday. I also recalled how I felt: safe in my mother’s embrace, but more importantly, I sensed her love for me. It radiated from her skin; it trembled in her voice.
“She used to call me Tee-Lee, didn’t she?” I said.
Her eyes widened. “I’d forgotten all about that nickname.”
“So had I. Until now.”
That’s when I knew it. My mother, despite her bout with depression, had genuinely cared about me. It didn’t make sense that I’d remember such a thing, and most people wouldn’t believe it, but I knew that it was true. She loved me, she honestly did. It seemed I had finally gotten my sign.
Thirty-One
The next day I checked my phone and found a video text message from someone called Rosie. The last time I’d gotten a video text from a stranger, it was of a well-endowed man pleasuring himself.
I was about to delete my newest text, thinking it surely referred to Rosie palm and her five sisters, but then I remembered…Rose!
I quickly clicked on the video. At first, it was difficult to figure out what I was seeing. It looked like two people in flesh-colored clothes, wrestling, but I eventually realized they were not wrestling. They were having sex…in a motel room. The female, sadly, was Rose and the male…
I squinted. Hard to make out. But when I saw a head full of slicked back curls, I figured it out.
“Should have guessed,” I said as I closed the text.
Along with the video was a note. It said, “Check your email.”
I looked. As promised, there was a new message.
Dear Ms. Wells,
I wanted to set things right, and they say a picture is worth a million words. Soon as I’m done writing this email I’m going to call that police lady and tell her I was lying about Mr. Rutherford.
You’re not the only person who didn’t believe my story. A bunch of his students have been calling me and coming by, saying they knew I wasn’t telling the truth. It wasn’t my idea to hurt Mr. Rutherford. Dr. Lipton called me into his office and asked me to accuse him of having sex with me. He said Mr. Rutherford was trying to get him fired, and if I helped bring him down, I’d be allowed to compete in the Harriet Hall pageant. He said if I didn’t help him, I wouldn’t graduate. I told Dr. Lipton that if I was going to do something awful like that to my teacher, I needed to do more than compete. I needed to win. He said fine, but he wanted to see me in private and make sure I had what it takes to be Miss Harriet Hall. He told me to meet him at a motel, and I knew exactly what he had on his mind.
Girl Meets Class Page 23
