Bright Flows the River

by Taylor Caldwell

  Dressed in her favorite blue, she had gone to her husband when he entered his house, her face puckered in a tremulous silent whimper, her absent blue eyes dimly expressing reproach. She had expected a kiss, a muttered apology, but he had gently put her from him as though she were an impertinent and tiresome stranger. Louise had drawn a deep gusty breath, looked at Guy critically and with malice, and had blurted, “Well!” She gave him a view of her wet flaring teeth, and then treated him to a sneer, and a shrug. She had gone to sit beside Lucy with an air of intense sympathy and consolation. Marcy and William sat together. Hugh sat alone, smoking and silent and watchful. He regarded Guy with curiosity. What was the enigmatic bastard up to now? He might look ill but he was very much present.

  “We can make this very short,” said Guy, standing as if about to depart. “Lucy. I apologize for marrying you. In a way it was a crime against you.”

  “Oh,” said Lucy, and she smiled sweetly and with an air of martyrdom. “I know, dear, it hasn’t been the happiest of marriages, though I did try my best. Now we—” (How absurd of Hugh that he should have mentioned “divorce”! Guy did not want a divorce. A little counseling, perhaps, by an expert, should set things right.)

  Guy went on, “Yes, it was a crime against you. I didn’t love you, not ever. You were only a substitute for someone else, long dead. I thought I had found her again in you.”

  How darling and sentimental, thought Louise with contempt, and she swished her long-out-of-date ponytail on her black silken shoulders.

  “So I wronged you, Lucy,” said Guy, with gravity. He felt sorry for Lucy, the first sorrow he had felt for her in all that long married life. “I know it’s late, but not too late. You still have a life to live, without me—”

  “Without you?” quavered Lucy, her mouth opening. “Why?”

  “Because I am no good to you, and never was. You have a right to much better, because you were cheated of a real husband. A man like yourself, who would never have troubled you as I did. A man who would have loved your children, as I did not. You see, I speak of ‘your’ children, not mine. They were always yours.”

  Marcy, his daughter, glared at him. “You were never a real dad, Daddy. It was always your work before your family.”

  Guy looked at his daughter thoughtfully. “Now that, Marcy, is pure idiocy. A man’s work should always come before his family. He’s made that way. If his family comes first, then he has perverted his nature. He is not quite a man, or is a hypocrite. Either way, he has abrogated his instincts and has ruined his life, and his family inevitably is the victim. Thank God I never perverted the masculine nature, nor did I pretend to. I advise you, Marcy, to remember this when dealing with your own husband. Try to make him exclusively a daddy and he will become weak and infirm of will, or will run from you to a woman who will let him be a man.”

  “As you did,” said Louise, with a malevolent grin.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what all this is about,” said Lucy, looking at her son, William, her fat son with the sloping shoulders and loose mouth and avid eyes.

  “I’ll make it plain,” said Guy. “I am going to divorce you, Lucy.”

  “Divorce!” Lucy shrieked. “Oh, no!”

  “Divorce,” said Hugh, and he smiled. “Good luck, fella.”

  “Divorce!” screamed Marcy, shifting her heavy buttocks on her chair and setting her bulky arms to flailing.

  “Divorce,” said William, significantly, and he glanced at his uncle. “I think this is insane. He shouldn’t have been allowed out of the funny farm. He needs conservators. He isn’t responsible for what he’s saying, or what he wants to do.”

  “I agree,” said Louise. “It’s crazy. I think we should have another consultation with Dr. Grassner. This poor man is out of his mind. Why should he want a divorce?”

  Guy looked at her long and deliberately. “I want a divorce because I’m sane for the first time in many years. I want out of a marriage I should never have committed in the first place. I want my life.”

  “And,” said Louise, giving him a look of pure malignance, “and you want that old laundress, too. Well. Water seeks its own level. I’ve told that to poor Lucy many a time. I agreed she shouldn’t have married you. But that was long ago. You see, my friend, I’ve known all about you for a long time. I saw you with that old lady in Philadelphia, with her dyed red hair and her hideous cheap clothes, and her ugly freckled face. On your way to bed with her.”

  Lucy was weeping. “I don’t know about another woman—what woman, Louise?”

  “The one we saw at the hospital that Sunday—such a monster. Of course, she’s just right for your husband, poor Lucy. Cheap, illiterate, homely, no style, a farm woman. No looks.”

  Guy said, repressing his rage, “She is a woman. Something you can’t say about yourself, Louise. Sorry, Hugh!”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” said Hugh, laughing, and beginning to enjoy himself.

  “Where did I fail?” moaned Lucy. “Guy, there isn’t anybody else, is there?”

  “If there is, it isn’t any of your business, Lucy.”

  “But that’s adultery!” cried Lucy, in horror. Guy thought how much inadequate women loved that word. He thought of his mother.

  “What does adultery mean to any man?” said Louise, now shooting her husband an evil look. “They’re nasty, all of them.”

  “Yes,” said Hugh. “We’re a nasty race, Louise. And when we marry we commit miscegenation, or something.”

  “Don’t talk to me, Hugh Lippincott, with your filthy innuendos!” his wife shouted. “I know all about you and that Nazi woman, who should be charged as a war criminal! If you don’t let her alone I am going to bring charges against her!”

  “So,” said Hugh, and his fair face flushed with fury. “It was you who wrote that anonymous letter to the governor! I always thought it was.”

  “I never—” Louise began.

  “Yes, you did. No one could have been so vicious and cruel like that but you.”

  “I can’t believe my father was fooling around with another woman,” said Marcy. “Why should he? He has a wonderful wife, a wonderful family, a wonderful position, a wonderful lot of money—everything wonderful. Mom’s pretty and dutiful and a lady; Billy and I have never done anything wrong to disgrace Daddy. What more does a man want?”

  “Marcy, a man wants, and must have, his life. I am not blaming your mother for anything. I am blaming myself that I married her. I am not blaming you, my dear; in your way you’ve been a good stolid woman, like my mother. I never had my life. Now I am going to have it. No, I blame no one but myself for the mess I made for everyone else, including me. But I have time to rectify this, and this is what I am going to do.”

  “Lucy,” said Louise, “don’t let him get a divorce.”

  “I will,” said Guy. “I have all the information. I am establishing residence in New York State, where they now have sane laws about divorce. If Lucy tries to balk me, then I’m afraid I will have to do something drastic against her. She must let me go, in peace.”

  “To marry that frump,” said Louise.

  “To live,” said Guy. “Louise, this is not any of your business and I advise you to keep quiet, or I will have you removed from this house now.”

  Louise turned savagely to her husband. “Hugh, are you going to let him talk like this to me?”

  “It’s his house,” said Hugh. “He can order you out if he wants to. Shut up, why don’t you, if only for five minutes?”

  “You and that Nazi,” said Louise. “You’ll never get a divorce from me, Hugh Lippincott. I didn’t know you loved Fascism that much.”

  “Alimony,” wailed Lucy, who had been sunk in shallow thought. “You’d have to pay me alimony, Guy.”

  “I don’t think so, Lucy. You are a rich woman in your own right.”

  “But. The children.”

  “I have given them too much of my life as it is. They’re not young any longer. They’ve had all they’re g
oing to get out of me.” His dark face was exhausted, but resolute. He looked slowly at his children. “Marcy’s husband is well-off. Bill has his own income, and a nice bank account. I am not liable for his upkeep. In June, he will be earning his own way in the banks. If Hugh wants him.”

  Hugh sat up very straight in his chair. “If I want him? They’re your banks, Guy.”

  Guy gave him a long humorous smile. “Not any longer, Hugh. You see, I am turning them completely over to you. Out of justice, out of penance.”

  Hugh gaped. He tried to speak. He choked. Every eye was on him now. His face swelled, became scarlet. He almost glared at Guy. “Do you—do you—know what you’re saying?”

  “I do.” He gestured at his silent lawyers. “The papers are all in those cases, ready for us both to sign. Good luck, Hugh. Oh, there’s just one condition. You divorce Louise.”

  “Divorce!” yelled Louise, her eyes bulging, her teeth thrust out. “He’ll never get a divorce from me!”

  Guy folded his arms across his chest. “I think he will. You see, your family’s whole fortune is in some difficulties, including those of your precious nieces. The banks bought up most of their paper. Yesterday. It cost me a lot, but it was worth it. Hugh can straighten it all out—if he wants to. If you don’t let him get a divorce, he won’t be of much help, I can assure you. In fact, he can ruin the whole works for your family. It’s up to you, Louise. You’re rich, and secure, thanks to Hugh. Perhaps you’d like to bail your family out yourself. It’ll cost you everything. You’d better come to mutually agreed terms with Hugh, who should have divorced you years ago. Hugh”—and he turned to his brother-in-law—“I’m sorry. I was a self-righteous bastard to force you to live with this woman, when you wanted out, too.”

  “Don’t mention it, fella,” said Hugh, whose blue eyes were sparkling with excitement. His forehead visibly showed sweat. “If it had been earlier I’d have missed this wonderful showdown. You really mean it, Guy?”

  “I do mean it.”

  “It’s against the public interest to force a divorce,” said William.

  “You mean, in a will. I’m not dead yet, Bill, and you no doubt regret it.”

  “But you’re insane. I intend—”

  One of the lawyers spoke for the first time. “Mr. Jerald, your accusation is actionable. Your father is more sane than you are.”

  William subsided for a moment, full of hate. He said, “My poor mother.”

  “Who is a rich woman,” said the lawyer. “Your father intends to release this house fully to her, after the divorce. His house.”

  “My mother’s!” shouted Marcy, throwing her arms about wildly and stamping. “She was born here, it was her father’s!”

  “The property belongs to anyone who pays for it,” said the lawyer. “Your husband paid for it, Mrs. Jerald. It’s his.”

  Lucy looked at Guy, her mouth trembling. “You’ll give me the house, Guy?”

  “Yes, provided you don’t contest the divorce. The papers are here for you, tonight, to sign, consenting, and releasing me from all obligation to you from this day on. Lucy? It is agreed?”

  “Don’t sign,” muttered William, automatically.

  Now Hugh spoke, and with authority. “Keep up that advice, Bill, and you won’t have any place in the banks.” He drew one fast breath after another. He looked at Guy. “My banks?”

  “Your banks.”

  Hugh turned to William. “You’ve heard. Behave yourself, and all will be well. In fact, encourage your mother to let your father go. If you don’t, then I’ll move against you myself.”

  Louise had been stunned, sitting in blinking silence, her teeth hanging out, her eyes bulging almost out of her head, her tanned face pallid. She had been gulping over and over. The news about her family had shocked her. She knew of their predicament but had determined that Hugh, and Guy, would assist. Now it was in jeopardy. Much as she sincerely loved her nieces, the thought of sacrificing her own fortune for them was unendurable. She was terrified. She clutched her hands tightly together, found it almost impossible to swallow. She cried, “It’s all blackmail!”

  “Sure it is,” said her husband, happily. “It’s the kind of thing you’ve been doing for a long time, dearest.”

  “Damn you, you and that Nazi!”

  William had been thinking. It was all very plain to him. Oppose his father, and he’d be looking for a job next June, and he was certain that his uncle would pursue him with vengeance. He turned to his mother and said, “Mom, dear. I think it’s all for the best. Don’t cry.”

  Marcy, less intelligent, said, “I disagree. Mom has her rights, and we have our rights, too, as Dad’s children.”

  Hugh said, “Your father, Marcy, gave up his rights twenty-seven years ago. I think he’s served enough of the penal sentence. Don’t make a fuss. It will be very bad for all of you.”

  “What about the business?” asked William. “Don’t we get a share of it?”

  “No,” said Guy, feeling more aversion for his son than ever before. “I am maintaining control of the business. I will be back and forth, between here and New York, regularly. Where am I going in New York? None of your business, Bill. I am none of your business, or you of mine, after tonight. Now, shall we begin with the papers?”

  They were signed, but not without much weeping, pleading, wailing, and protesting from the women. Now William was solidly aligned with his father and uncle. He had his own future to consider, his own welfare. He was determined to cultivate his uncle assiduously. Lucy said, “And I get all the furniture, too, Guy?”

  “You do.” He felt quite kindly towards her and kissed her cheek. “You get the cars, too. Except one, for myself, which I am taking tonight.” He felt weak and shaken. It was all finished, all done. He had cut the past from himself forever. He had expected more opposition. Thanks to Hugh it had been much easier.

  He kissed his daughter, and shook hands with his son. “Good luck,” he said, and felt that he was leaving strangers in whom he had not the slightest interest.

  “How can you desert us like this, Daddy?” asked Marcy, in tears.

  “How can I desert someone I was never with?” he replied. “I did the best I could for you, Marcy, though I never felt you were my children. You were always your mother’s. Take care of her, Marcy. She is a rich woman.” He saw the gleam of speculation in Marcy’s eyes, and was bitterly amused. She knew she would inherit nothing from him. It was all her mother’s. I suppose, Guy thought, she is frightened that Lucy might marry again, which would be disastrous for her and Bill. Or, she is wondering how long her mother can live. Children!

  Lucy clung to him on parting. Again she whimpered, “The children.”

  “The hell with them, Lucy. Think of yourself.”

  When he and Hugh were alone outside the house and in the midst of a whirling blizzard, Guy shook hands with his brother-in-law, who was still dazed.

  “Give my love to Marian,” he said. “Go to see her tonight.”

  “On that you can bet,” said Hugh, with fervor. “God, Guy. You don’t know what you’ve done for me. It was worth waiting for.”

  “Sometimes things fall into place, if you wait,” said Guy. “Not always, not regularly. But sometimes. Good night.”

  “God bless,” Hugh said, and was amazed he meant it.

  31

  In March, both Emil Grassner and Guy Jerald received a telegram from Hawaii:

  God mercifully delivered me from my promise to Emma. She died peacefully and painlessly this morning. Am returning with her to England, where I will begin the work I must do, for my father and my wife.

  In the dark night of the soul, bright flows the river of God.

  Devotedly, James Meyer

  A Biography of Taylor Caldwell

  Taylor Caldwell was one of the most prolific and widely read American authors of the twentieth century. In a career that spanned five decades, she wrote forty novels, many of which were New York Times bestsellers.

&
nbsp; Caldwell captivated readers with emotionally charged historical novels and family sagas such as Captains and the Kings, which sold 4.5 million copies and was made into a television miniseries in 1976. Her novels based on the lives of religious figures, Dear and Glorious Physician, a portrayal of the life of St. Luke, and Great Lion of God, a panoramic novel about the life and times of St. Paul, are among the bestselling religious novels of all time.

  Born Janet Miriam Holland Taylor Caldwell in 1900 in Manchester, England, into a family of Scotch-Irish descent, she began attending an academically rigorous school at the age of four, studying Latin, French, history, and geography. At six, she won a national gold medal for her essay on novelist Charles Dickens. On weekends, she performed a long list of household chores and attended Sunday school and church twice a day. Caldwell often credited her Spartan childhood with making her a rugged individualist.

  In 1907, Caldwell, her parents, and her younger brother immigrated to the United States, settling in Buffalo, New York, where she would live for most of her life. She started writing stories when she was eight years old and completed her first novel, The Romance of Atlantis, when she was twelve, although it was not published until 1975. Marriage at the age of eighteen to William Combs and the birth of her first child, Mary Margaret—Peggy—did not deter her from pursuing an education. While working as a stenographer and a court reporter to help support her family, she took college courses at night.

  Upon receiving a bachelor of arts degree from the University of Buffalo in 1931, she divorced her husband and married Marcus Reback, her boss at the US Immigration Department office in Buffalo. Caldwell then dedicated herself to writing full time. Even as her family grew with the arrival of her second daughter, Judith, Caldwell’s unpublished manuscripts continued to pile up.

  At the age of thirty-eight, she finally sold a novel, Dynasty of Death, to a major New York publisher. Convinced that a pre–World War I saga of two dynasties of munitions manufacturers would be better received if people thought it was written by a man, Maxwell Perkins, her editor at Scribner—who also discovered F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway—advised her to use only part of her name—Taylor Caldwell—as her pen name. Dynasty of Death became a bestseller in 1938 and the saga continued with The Eagles Gather in 1940 and The Final Hour in 1944. Inevitably, a public stir ensued when people discovered Taylor Caldwell was a woman.