Confessing to the person you’ve harmed instead of a priest? Does that allow some relief from guilt? Pity came swooping in, dismantling some of the anger for a moment. This poor girl. Her mother was to blame, sending a child out on the streets. And Miller? What punishment was good enough for him?
Caroline brushed imaginary specks from the front of her dress. Her anger should not be at this girl, but rather, at her husband. This would be the more rational reaction. Phil Rains wasn’t some floozy off the street. She was a girl in trouble. Her little Audrey, if not for the grace of God, could be in this position. This was a sister, a daughter, a mother. And yet, the rage and jealousy were too large for rational thought. It had eaten her insides, taken over, so that she was merely a red ball of anger. This girl slept with her husband, while she, Caroline, raised his children without him.
“How long has this been going on?” asked Caroline. She held her breath waiting for the answer, even though she already knew the details. It was like poking a bruise. The pain almost felt good.
“Since Teddy was born. I had no place to go that would be safe for him.”
“He put you up here?”
“No. In the city,” said Phil. “This was recent. At the beginning of the summer.”
Three years. This had been going on for three years and she’d had no idea. What kind of fool was she? How could she not have known? Why hadn’t she let herself see the signs? They were there. She was a fool. A spoiled, clueless fool. Naïve and indulged, with her head in the clouds, too cowardly to seek the truth. She had allowed this to happen. She had fostered Miller’s secret with her gullibility.
Caroline stood, straightening the skirt of her dress. “I don’t know why I chose to come here. I suppose I wanted to see you, prove to myself that you exist. There’s not one part of this that I would’ve believed yesterday.”
Phil stood as well. Just then, the sound of a screen door opening and closing penetrated the silence between them. “Mama.” A little boy appeared, wearing short pants and no shirt, sand plastered to his bare legs. Behind him was a girl Audrey’s age. They both looked like Phil. They stopped short when they saw Caroline.
The little boy crossed over to her and peered up at her with big brown eyes. “Hi.”
“Hello.” She couldn’t get the anger out of her voice, even for this innocent child. He was not to blame, and yet, she could not soften.
“Mary, please take Teddy into the bedroom and get him cleaned up.”
Mary nodded and took Teddy’s hand. He dutifully followed.
“My sister. And Teddy,” said Phil.
“They’re beautiful.” Innocent children who needed a solid home. Food and shelter. The tiniest shift toward empathy made its way into her heart.
“Mrs. Dreeser, what do you plan to do?”
“I plan on divorcing him for adultery as soon as possible. My father will fire him from his companies. And I’ll take possession of the houses, as my father owns them. He can live happily ever after here with you.” She waved her hand to indicate the space. “With what money, I don’t know.”
Phil’s eyes shifted back and forth like she was frightened. “The money’s all yours?”
“Yes, you’re correct. It’s my father’s fortune. Miller has no money without me. That’s why he hasn’t left me to be with you, I feel quite certain.”
“No, he would never leave you. He made that very clear to me.” Her gaze darted upward and to the right. She was lying,
“You were content to remain his mistress? For how long?”
“For as long as it took,” said Phil.
“For as long as what took?”
“Until I could figure out how to escape.”
Caroline stared at her. “Escape? You want to escape?”
“More than anything.”
“I have to go now. I have to be back with my family.” With that, Caroline barreled toward the door and out of the house, not stopping to catch her breath until she was in the car and headed down the driveway.
**
Several hours later, she sat with her parents in her father’s study, telling them every detail of her encounter with Phil Rains.
“Caroline, why would you put yourself through that?” asked Mother.
“I had to, Mother.”
“She has nothing to do with us.” Mother made a motion like she was wiping her hands. “We’re done with the both of them.”
“She was all alone with a tiny baby. I would do anything for my children. Who knows what I would’ve done in her situation. We sit here in our beautiful home and make judgments, but we don’t know.”
“The difference between right and wrong, villain and hero, is what you’re prepared to do to get what you want,” said Father.
“Well, we’re not in her situation. We’re in our situation, with three children who are going to have to learn a terrible truth about their father,” said Mother.
“Is it right to take his children from him?” asked Caroline.
“He made his choice,” said Mother. “He’s never been a father. You’ve been both mother and father. Without Edmund, they’d have no father figure. You’ve made excuses for him since the day you married him.”
“What was I supposed to do, Mother?”
“There was nothing to do,” said Mother. “Without adultery, you would never have been granted a divorce.” She went to the bar and poured a large sherry. “This could be a gift, Caroline. You’ll be rid of him. He’ll be out of our lives forever.”
“The children love him,” said Caroline. “The younger ones anyway. Is it right for them to see him penniless and forbidden contact with him?”
“Caroline, for once in your life, resist the temptation to make excuses for him. He’s ruined your life,” said Mother.
“Her life isn’t ruined,” said Father.
“No, no. I didn’t mean that,” said Mother. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I’m so angry.” Mother poured another sherry and handed it to Father, then sipped from her own glass. Caroline had never seen her undone.
“I know, Mother.” She held out her arms to embrace her mother. “I’m angry, too. Let’s get this rolling. I want it done by Christmas.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Miller
HE STOPPED AT HIS OFFICE in the city to call Timmy before he headed south to his in-laws. “Why hasn’t he done it?” he asked.
“She didn’t take her walk. My man says he waited by that bench like you said, but she never came.”
“That’s impossible. You could set a clock by this walk of hers.”
“Maybe something came up. He’ll be there tomorrow,” said Timmy.
Miller called his attorney next. “Yeah. It’s me. What do you know about taking out a life insurance policy?”
**
The hour was nearing five in the afternoon when he arrived at the Bennetts’ beach home. The sun hovered between sky and sea, as if undecided which way to go. A shiver ran down the back of his spine as he lit a cigarette and walked around to the seaward facing side of the house. The rolling lawn was scattered with lawn chairs and a croquet game that looked as if it had been suddenly abandoned. He walked to the edge of the lawn where it met the sand, sea breeze tousling his hair, and took deep drags from his cigarette, hoping for relief from this anxiety, this feeling that Henry Sayer was at this moment knocking on Phil’s cottage door. Ridiculous Caroline, weak and needy. He should have gone to the cottage and kept an eye on Phil, but he must make sure Caroline took her walk in the morning.
The waves were large this evening, crashing against the sand. Seagulls screamed. The sea grasses sighed for him, rustling in the wind. He must go inside and pretend everything was fine, that he was happy to be there. How I’ve missed you all. He tossed the stub of his cigarette into the lawn, making sure it was dead before turning toward the house, and then leaned over to fetch the stub. Edmund hated cigarette stubs in his lawn.
He made his way across the grass. Seb sat on the porch with a book i
n his hands, staring at Miller. He raised a hand in greeting; Seb nodded in response.
When he reached Seb, the angry expression on his son’s face caused another shiver to make its way down Miller’s spine. What Seb could have to be angry about was beyond him. A life of privilege had spoiled him, made him soft like a woman. He should come to work at one of the factories. Learn how to be thankful for what he had. At his age I was cleaning toilets and stacking wood at the orphanage.
“Using the most of your time, I see,” said Miller.
“How was work?”
Had he imagined a sarcastic tone and an emphasis on the word work? “Excellent. Thank you.”
Seb looked down at the book in his lap, opening it to a page where he’d folded the corner into a triangle to mark his place.
“Are you in need of a bookmark?” This kid had no respect for property.
“Mother’s in her bedroom, waiting for you.” Seb met his gaze, unflinching. “Everyone else went into town for supper.”
“What about family dinner?”
“Mother changed her mind,” said Seb.
“You holding down the fort?”
“The fort?” asked Seb.
“Military term.”
Seb stared up at him, his eyes glittering in the reflection of the sun. “The military? What would you know about the military? You didn’t fight.”
Miller raised his hand and brought it down hard on the side of Seb’s head. He was pleased to hear the boy yelp in pain. “You want military? How about we send you to military school?”
The boy lifted his chin, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Mother would never allow it.”
“I’m the one in charge here, not your mother.” What had gotten into him? He was never disrespectful like this. Miller knelt and put his face close to his son’s, shoving his shoulders with the palms of his hands. “You’d best remember that.”
Teeth gritted, Seb looked straight into his eyes. “I know exactly what you’ve done. You best remember that.”
Miller rose to his feet, alarm bells sounding in his mind. He strode across the porch and yanked open the screen door. He needed to see Caroline.
The house was quiet and dim. Even the servants must have retired to their quarters. He fought a sense of foreboding as he walked down the hall to Caroline’s bedroom. She sat in an armchair by the window, looking out at the view. Normally, she wore her hair loose about her shoulders in large waves, but this afternoon she had pulled it back with a pink scarf. He watched her, aware that she had not sensed his presence. A breeze lifted the soft curtains and brought the scent and the sounds of the outside world from which he’d come. She wore a simple cotton dress, loose at the waist, and no shoes. Her face, without makeup, looked pink and newly scrubbed. The collar of her dress appeared wet, as if she’d splashed her face with cold water not long before he entered the room. Her mother still kept basins and pitchers in every bedroom, in homage, she said, to a gentler time, and often had the maids fill them with cold water on warm days. Miller found it ridiculous.
As he tapped on the doorframe, he noticed how petite she looked in the oversized chair, her figure no different than an adolescent girl. The way she sat, with her hands clasped on her lap reminded him of their daughter, sitting politely in church. She turned to look at him, shifting from the window, facing him.
“Are you unwell?” he asked.
“I have something to ask you. If you lie to me, I will never speak to you again. I’ll take your children from you. My father will ruin you.”
His heart started beating harder. What did she know? “Jesus, Caroline. What’s gotten into you?” He crossed the room, sitting on the ottoman next to the chair. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the palms of his hands. “You know I couldn’t lie to you.”
“I assumed that was true. But now I know that was a lie I told myself.”
“What is it?” Did she know about Phil? How was it possible? Joseph? No, the man was loyal to him, thankful for the extra cash he gave him to keep his secrets.
“Seb was in town with a friend two days ago. He saw you at the diner.”
Seb had seen him? How was it possible? He folded his handkerchief into a neat square, all the corners matching. What could he say now that she would believe?
“The diner?”
“You had company,” said Caroline.
“Oh, yes. Her. She’s the wife of one of the men who works in the warehouse loading trucks—a man who’s been with me for years now. He hadn’t shown to work for several days. I sent my secretary to see if he was ill. Unfortunately, he’d been killed in a bar fight. She’s all alone with two children now, so I took them all for a meal and gave her the items from his locker, and several months’ pay to get her through.” This was a good story. One that would evoke immediate sympathy in Caroline. “I offered to pay for his funeral.”
He expected that she would tear up in relief, open her arms and say what a good man he was to offer to pay the funeral expenses. Stupid Caroline would believe anything he told her.
“How many years was he with you?” Her face was set, hard and determined.
“I don’t know. About five, I guess,” he said.
“What’s his name?”
“Henry Sayer.” Damn if that wasn’t the first name that came out of his mouth.
“Sayer? I don’t remember you ever mentioning his name.”
“Darling, I surely wouldn’t bore you with the names of our workers,” he said.
“What’s his wife’s name? I should call on her.” Even with words he would expect to come from her, she appeared strange, her expression rigid and suspicious. The flush to her cheeks was bright pink, like a child with a fever.
“I simply called her Mrs. Sayer. I’m not certain of her first name.” He smiled and dropped to the floor, kneeling at her feet. “What’s the matter with you?”
She was seemingly unmoved. “Why was your arm around her?”
“I was comforting her. Jesus, Caroline, have a little compassion. A fifteen-year-old-boy, looking through a window, misunderstood what was happening.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Enough!” He stood, shoving the ottoman against the wall with a backward kick. A vase fell from the table next to the easy chair and shattered on the hardwood floor. “This is ridiculous. I have half a mind to give Seb the beating he deserves until he learns to keep his mouth shut. There was no need to get you upset with this, especially given your condition.”
She looked up at him, her tone steely. “You touch my son and you will pay. My father will make sure of that.”
“I decide how to discipline my son, not your father.”
“If you had been around enough to actually be his father, you could have had that privilege.” Her voice was a fraction under a shout. “Now, I decide.”
He stared at her. In all the years of their marriage, she had never raised her voice to him. Not once.
She took in a deep breath, as if to calm herself. “You had a secret, and now you don’t. It didn’t take much to figure out the truth. My father made a few phone calls and figured out exactly where you had her stashed. Right next door to Henry Sayer.”
He gasped.
“Yes, that’s right. I know the landlord. Henry Sayer. Lovely man and quite alive. He’s a friend of Julius’s from the war. He came to visit me years ago and built a beautiful hutch for us, which you would know about if you ever spent any time with us.” She smiled as she rose to her feet, then leaned over, picking up the pieces of the broken vase. “This was my favorite vase. I always pick my mother’s roses and bring them into my bedroom. When I’m here alone at night because you’re in the city—working, yes, always working—I can put my nose into the petals and take in that sweet smell and think of you. I always remind myself how much you’ve sacrificed to make your way and how much I admire you for it. When I think of the excuses I’ve made for you to the kids and to myself, despite how lonely I’ve been, and how you t
ook my youth, it makes me feel actually murderous.”
“You went to the cottage?” he asked.
“I did. After my chat with Mr. Sayer, I went next door to talk to your whore.”
He flinched. “What would make you do such a thing? You’re acting hysterical, you know that? You are.” Start talking, he told himself. Come up with something she will believe.
“Do you love her?” she asked.
“She’s no one to me. You’re confused.” Every word in staccato. Shame her. He fought rising panic. Make her think she’s crazy. “You realize how insane you sound? Driving out to the cottages?”
“Stop. I know all your tricks. All the ways you have of making me feel like an idiot, like a spoiled child. No more. She was as Seb described her. Tall and dark. Beautiful. Young. So young, Miller.”
“You’re mistaken,” said Miller.
“I want you out. Out of here. Out of our home in the city. I’m divorcing you. My father made sure nothing is in your name. I will not allow the children to see you ever again. You’re finished.”
“Caroline, don’t be a little idiot.”
Crossing over to the mirror, she picked up her hairbrush and fixed her hair, before turning back to him. “I understand, for the first time, what kind of man you are.”
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