“I know, Daddy. I know.”
**
The next morning, Caroline woke minutes before sunrise with one idea. I must see this girl for myself and force her to look me in the eye. She dressed in the silence of the house, and fussed with her hair, arranging every curl, then squirted hairspray around her head to ensure no slippage. Mascara and rouge and lipstick, all applied with care. She left a note on the dining room table for her father, telling him that she would be gone for the day but would be home in time for dinner. Knowing it would worry her parents, she added that she was simply taking a drive to clear her head, that she needed a little time alone. She took a carton of crackers from the kitchen. Then, she went out to the garage, got into her car, spread the state of California map on the passenger seat, and took in several deep breaths before starting the engine.
Minutes later, she was on the highway. The Pacific, encased in fog, was invisible as the sun came up in dancing beams through the firs. It was an hour before the fog cleared and suddenly the ocean appeared in endless blue as she wove along the curves of the coast. She stopped once, to vomit into a bush on the side of the road, then got back in the car, eating crackers to soothe the nausea, the crumbs cascading down her dress and onto the floor. Miller didn’t allow food in the car. The children were not allowed to speak in the car. She must wear a scarf over her hair, even though he refused to open the windows unless he deemed it too hot to bear. For years she’d abided by his rules, all his idiosyncrasies and controlling ways, but no more. I will eat crackers in the car whenever I want. And later, when it grew warm, she would roll down the windows and let the wind blow through her hair and remember what it felt like before he was in her life; when it was the three of them driving to the beach, and she was in the backseat behind her father, and she put her face close to the door and let the wind fill her with the possibilities of her life. Who was she, then? That girl before Miller? Was she in there somewhere, still, screaming to get out? Shouting to her. Roll the window down! Roll it all the way down!
She had not let herself think much about Julius’s confession. Put it aside for now, she had told herself. Julius was something separate. He was her oldest friend. He remembered the girl she was. He’d been there for all of it, the before and after. Did she love him? Yes. She did. She always had. But in the same ways he did? She wasn’t sure. Her feelings were in such turmoil that it was impossible to decipher the truth. All these years she’d loved her husband for better or worse and that was all she’d had room for in her heart. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, as she slowed to take a curve. Julius was her childhood. She’d been a happy child, perhaps over-indulged, spoiled, by both her parents and Julius. They’d loved her so well. It had never occurred to her that the man she married would not treat her as they had.
Again, she dismissed reflecting upon Julius, concentrating instead on where she was headed. With the map, she found Stowaway without trouble, stopping in town to ask directions out to the cottage. The attendant took off his hat, wiping his brow. “Sure, that’s Henry’s place. You renting the other cottage?”
“Are there two?” she asked.
“Sure. He lives in one, rents out the other to summer vacationers and such.”
“I’m fairly certain he already has a tenant.”
“That right?” The man stuck his hat back on his head. “If he does, they must not drive or they would’ve come through here for gas.”
The girl didn’t drive. Another fact in a growing list.
It was noon. Hunger mixed with nausea, and Caroline succumbed to the idea that she must find something to eat before she went to the cottage. At the town diner, she ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and sat by the window. Outside, surfers walked by carrying surfboards. Teenagers dressed in shorts and bathing suits and families with picnic baskets strolled past, all headed for the beach at the end of town.
When she finished, she left cash for the bill and got back in the car, following the directions the attendant had given her. It was when she was turning into the long dirt driveway, the two cottages waiting prettily by the sea, that it occurred to her she had no plan. Would she knock on the door and introduce herself? Or, would she wait in the car until the woman—the girl—came out and pretend to be lost? No matter how it unfolded, she wanted to see her, to know for herself what a woman who would do this to another woman looked and sounded like. Caroline would look her in the eyes and tell her that her family was ruined. She wanted her to admit what she had done and to see that pain she’d inflicted.
The cottages were twins, both white with blue shutters and flowers in window boxes. They shared a lush, green lawn. Behind the houses, she caught a glimpse of a white fence. She let the car idle for a moment. Which cottage? Right or left? Henry lived in one, the attendant had said. But which one? She looked in the mirror. Lipstick intact. She’d managed not to cry all day. Anger was her friend. She turned off the car and got out, her high-heeled shoes sinking into the soft ground. The phrase house of sand went through her mind.
She knocked on the door to her right. A young man, handsome, with hair the color of butter, opened the door. “Oh my God. Henry?”
“Caroline?” His face lit up in a wide smile. “What on earth are you doing here?”
She burst into tears.
“What is it? Come in. Come inside.” He gave her his handkerchief then took her hand, leading her into a pleasant sitting room.
Wiping her eyes, she sat on the couch. He fetched her a glass of water, then sat next to her. “What’s happened? Why are you here?”
“My husband’s having an affair with your tenant.” Her voice sounded cold, angry. She hardly recognized herself.
Henry’s face went from concerned to shocked. “Miller Dreeser’s your husband? But your last name’s Bennett.”
“That was my maiden name. I think you called me that and I didn’t bother to correct you. It didn’t seem important at the time.”
Henry buried his face in his hands. “How did you find out?”
“My son saw them together in the city. My fifteen-year-old son saw them in a restaurant. Then, my father did a little investigating,” she said. “Discovered her whereabouts. Thus, my arrival here this afternoon.” She took a sip from her water glass to quench her dry mouth. Windows, open wide, let in the scent of the sea. How could Henry be the landlord? It was all too awful. She crossed her legs, setting the half-empty drink onto the side table, using the coaster he’d provided. The condensation had made a ring on the coaster.
“What have you come to do?” he asked.
She intended to give him a righteous response. Confront the whore who’s wrecked my family, or something of that nature—not that she’d ever used the word whore before in her life. Until yesterday, she hadn’t known it was in her consciousness deeply enough to be uttered from her mouth. Instead, she said, “I don’t know.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit the inside of her mouth to distract herself with physical pain. “I don’t know why I’ve come except to say that I wanted to see her, wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see the girl my husband loves. I’ve only discovered all this. Just yesterday, in fact. I’m pregnant and not feeling well, not feeling myself, which might explain why I’ve driven here with no plan. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before. I’ve lived a blessed life, sheltered, I suppose you could say. Up until now.” Hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and she tried to catch them with her fingertips. “I’m devastated. I never knew what that word meant until now. It feels like a tsunami came and wiped everything out inside me. I’ve been married to Miller for all my adult life, and although it’s been a hard marriage because of his…because of his ways, I was committed always, to our family, to him. I built my life around him. And now, to find out that he easily threw it away, easily lied to me, well, it’s left me upended.”
Henry nodded without comment. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose in the handkerchief. Outside, the waves crashed. She had not heard them before now
; the buzzing between her ears had drowned them out. “I’m sorry, Henry. You must forgive me. This whole sordid thing is embarrassing enough without me adding to it with my tirade.” She tried to smile, but the tears came instead. She wiped her cheeks.
“No need to apologize, Caroline. I’m very sorry for everything.”
“What’s she like?”
“She’s a young woman in a difficult situation and has made decisions that, unfortunately, have hurt you. Would it help you to know she doesn’t love him?”
“What could possibly make a woman take up with another woman’s husband if it isn’t love?”
“She has no family, and a baby out of wedlock. The baby’s father died in the war. She was seventeen when her son was born. Her parents had kicked her out of the house. Your husband gave her a way to ensure the little boy’s well-being.”
Caroline’s heart beat so loudly that she could, once again, no longer hear the waves. A child. A man who died in the war, leaving a pregnant sweetheart at home. An innocent little boy who needed shelter and a home, which Miller provided. The woman was a prostitute for her child. Wouldn’t she do the same if she were in the same circumstances? Most mothers would. “I’ve spent the last few days imagining this woman, this girl, who must be utterly in love with Miller, desperate for the small amount of time she’s allotted.”
“That’s not how it is,” said Henry.
“That’s how it was for me. For the last seventeen years I’ve loved him very much, always yearning for one more moment with him. From the time I first met him when I was twenty years old it’s been that way. And yet, he loves this girl who doesn’t love him.”
“Why do you say he loves her?” asked Henry.
“Because he would never risk money and esteem for a woman unless he loved her. Which makes the only conclusion that he surely doesn’t love me and perhaps never did. My God, when I think how I’ve wasted my youth on him. And I’m having another baby. Can you believe it? Just a few days ago I believed my life was perfect and now I’m in a nightmare.” She blew her nose. Vulgar to do in front of a man, but she didn’t care. Not today when her world had fallen apart. “I want to see her.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps it would be better to confront Miller.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She stood and held out her hand. “Thank you for the water.”
He jumped to his feet. “Do you want me to go with you?”
She shook her head. “No, Henry, it’s not your concern. But thank you. I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances that I see you once again.”
**
Phil Rains answered the door. Dressed in dungarees and a sleeveless shirt, she wore a scarf over rag curlers and no makeup. Despite her dowdy attire, she was beautiful and young. What man wouldn’t want her? A knife sliced into Caroline’s ribcage as an image of Miller in bed with this girl, this child, flooded her sight. How could he have done this? She’d been married to a stranger for seventeen years. Her life was a lie. She touched her face with her fingertips. The crow’s feet that etched her tender skin were like the lines on the map she had just read. She was old, used up, and mean—violent even. Her hands quivered at her sides, itching to do damage to something. Never in her life had she felt this way. A jealous rage. Where had she heard that phrase before?
Caroline held out her hand. “I’m Mrs. Dreeser.”
Phil Rains went pale and grabbed the door with white knuckles.
“Would you like to come in?” The girl’s voice shook.
“Yes, please.”
Phil opened the door wider and Caroline walked inside the cottage. It was indeed the twin to Henry’s, although not decorated with the care of the other. A temporary home. A cottage by the sea. Meant for week rentals, not a permanent place to stash one’s mistress.
They went into the sitting room. “Please, sit,” said Phil. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“No, I’ve had water with Henry. I knocked on the wrong cottage door.” She sat, crossing her legs. Soon her stomach would be too big to cross her legs. She would be able to prop a book on it like she had with the other three. “I know Henry, as it turns out. We have a mutual friend. It’s a small world.”
The girl’s bottom lip quivered. She took in a long, shaky breath before speaking. “Mrs. Dreeser, what can I do for you?”
Caroline looked out the window, her heart no longer pounding. On the contrary, she wondered if she had a heartbeat at all. Was she here, speaking to her husband’s mistress, or was she in a nightmare? No, she could not wake up from reality. This was her life, and she must find the strength to carry onward, with dignity. How would her mother behave? After the death of Caroline’s grandmother, Mother had not cried at the funeral. She sat ramrod-straight at the church, her face betraying nothing, her long neck steady, hat placed exactly right. Later, in the privacy of their home, she had wept, but not in front of strangers. Dignity, Caroline, is underrated. How many times had she said that to her? More than she could count.
“I imagined what I might say to you during the drive up, but now that I’m here, I can think of nothing,” said Caroline.
The girl folded her hands in her lap. “I have a son. Teddy. Every decision I’ve made is because of him. Miller offered me a way to keep him safe and fed. I-I had no choice.”
“The only choice was being kept by another woman’s husband?”
Phil Rains took such a long time to answer, Caroline wondered if she might not. Would Caroline have to carry forth with the conversation, throwing insults at her with her newly cruel tongue?
Finally, the girl spoke, her voice hushed. “I don’t suppose it’s possible to explain to someone like you what it’s like to be hungry. To wonder if I would have a place for my child to sleep other than an alley. To wonder if the next day would be the day I could no longer feed him.”
“Someone like me?”
“I mean no harm, but yes, a person like you. A rich person,” said Phil. “When you’re poor and alone, as I am, the difference between right and wrong is no longer as important as survival.”
Caroline sat with that for a moment. The girl was correct. She had never had to worry over anything. Her entire life had been one of privilege, of love. Every morning she woke to breakfast muffins and pastries piled high on a platter. Mother always sent copious leftovers home with the staff. Jams and butter and eggs cooked however they wished. At night she went to bed under soft blankets. She could afford to ponder moral dilemmas.
“What you say is true, Miss Rains. I have been fortunate. I’ve also spent most of my adult life giving to others, whether it’s to my children and husband or the charities that I work for. Whether you believe it or not, I have seen poverty up close.”
“Up close?” The girl had the audacity to sound sarcastic.
“How dare you. You have no idea how I’ve spent my life,” said Caroline.
“And you have no idea how I’ve spent mine.”
“I’ve certainly not spent mine sleeping with someone else’s husband.”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Mrs. Dreeser, I’ve suffered great pangs of guilt, but the need to take care of my son has outweighed them in the end. I’m not asking for sympathy, or even forgiveness, but can you understand, at least, how I have ended up in this circumstance?”
“I’m going to have another baby,” said Caroline. “Can you understand my circumstance?”
Phil’s eyes widened. “Another?”
“We have three children. Did you know that?”
“Miller doesn’t talk about his family. But, yes, I knew from when I worked at the factory. The girls talked. Gossiped.”
“He doesn’t talk about us?” She tried to breathe steadily, but it was like she was walking up a steep hill.
Phil shook her head. “I believe he wants to keep us all separate, the way men do. Every part of their lives on distinct shelves.”
“How do you know what men do? You’re practically a child.” Caroline’s voice w
as raspy and mean. For the second time that day, she didn’t recognize herself.
Phil blushed and looked at her hands. “I loved a man once. Eddie.”
“Your son’s father?” asked Caroline.
“Yes. He segregated parts of his life. There was me, his family, the farm, and finally, the war. I was one part of his life, whereas for me, there wasn’t a part he didn’t touch. He was the past, the future, the present—in every memory, every plan for my life. He made the decision to leave for the war without consulting me—simply announced it. I would never have decided something like that without him. Women are more like messy drawers, I suppose.”
“Mine certainly feels messy right now. How did you know this about Eddie? How he compartmentalized?” She let go of her anger for a moment, genuinely curious. Had the young man expressed an idea that complex? Was this young woman more insightful than she when it came to men? Was this part of her allure?
“I don’t know. I just did. We’d known one another all our lives,” said Phil.
Like Julius and me. Ten years old, he scraped in the sand with a skinny piece of driftwood: Julius loves Caroline. Salt water in his hair, he’d stood next to his declaration, pointing with the stick, grinning at her. Why had she not remembered that until now?
The girl continued talking. Caroline had the feeling it was unusual, that before her sat a quiet person, contemplative, and sad. Yes, this was a sad girl. And Miller had swooped in, taking advantage of her numerous vulnerabilities and claimed her for his own.
“Our fathers had neighboring farms in Iowa. We were going to be married when he came home from the war, but he never did. He was killed somewhere in France. I remember thinking when they told me, France, of all places? We figured we’d never leave Iowa. But fighting in the war, it was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. After my brother was killed, Eddie couldn’t rest until he was enlisted, even though he had to lie about his age. I let him have what he wanted before he left, knowing he might not come back, and never thinking a baby would come of it. I was naïve, Mrs. Dreeser, and that’s the part I’m most ashamed of. Anyway, he died before I could tell him. I had to face my parents alone. I knew they would ask me to leave. I was already packed and prepared to say good-bye to my little sister, who I loved more than anyone in the world except for Eddie, and now, unquestionably, Teddy.” Phil fell silent, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. “I suppose I’m telling you this as a way to make an excuse for what’s happened.” She fidgeted in her chair, a splotch of red marring her perfect complexion above her neckline. “My mother, even before I told her I was having a baby, hated me. I don’t know why exactly, but she does. Or, did. She’s dead now. And now my sister’s here with me and I’m responsible for her. I’m sorry.” A sob stopped her confession.
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