Chapter Ten

Stealing the letter was easy. She took it as she hung the coat in the hall closet. Richard was looking away, into the den where the last few guests were still gathered and talking. Laura excused herself to Richard and went upstairs. She hoped returning the letter would be as simple as stealing it had been.

She opened the letter without taking her coat off and sat on the bed, near the table lamp. The letter was undated. “Dad, It’s pretty much as I said on the telephone, but I wanted to send a picture of the child. She’s awfully little and thin looking, but the smile is bright. Well, I don’t know what you think about the rest of my idea. Sometimes I feel so guilty for the kind of life I’ve led. I’ve been awfully thoughtless about these things. I’m hoping you’ll understand, at least somewhat. Love to Mom and the others. Richard.”

And with the letter was the picture he had sent of a sad, sweet, thin, beatific, large-eyed child. Oh God! No wonder he could barely speak tonight. Guilty. Thoughtless! And he hoped his father would understand. And then, love to Mom! It was as bad as it could be. His own child with such sad, hopeful eyes, and he could stand it!

She put the letter back together again, sick to her stomach. Worse! Far worse than she had anticipated. Thoughtless! And whose child? Who was the mother? Had he known her long? Had he loved her? And the child? She looked about three years old in the photo. Had it taken him so long to acknowledge her? To send her money?

But even that didn’t go far enough. “Guilty for the kind of life I’ve led.” That implied more than one abandoned daughter. It was more than a single regretted mistake—it was him, it was the way he was.

She couldn’t reconcile that image of Richard with the Richard whom she thought she knew. The dual pictures of him was desperately confusing to her. Was she so lonely, so eager for the love of a man, that she would create a man’s character entirely in her mind, despite all proof?

But here was the evidence. The eyes of a small child. Richard’s child. She wanted to open the envelope again and look at the picture once more, but she dared not. Why had she opened it to begin with? But no, thank God she had. She had to know; her knowing the truth was imperative.

She crept back downstairs, her coat still on, the envelope in her pocket but held by her grimly clutching hand. She went to the closet, slipping her coat off and the letter into the other coat at the same time. She was relieved, but only partly. She hung her own coat on a wooden hanger, but it was wet.

Richard came out of the den. “Oh, it’s you,” he said.

She held the hanger with the wet coat. She couldn’t put it into the closet alongside the other, dry garments. Helplessly, she began to cry. Richard came toward her. “I don’t know what to do with my coat,” she said angrily, hating him.

He gave her a strange look and took the hanger from her, leaving the room with it. She closed the closet door firmly. Hating him was difficult as much as he must deserve it. And forgiving him was impossible without despising him first. She stopped crying.

Richard returned. “Your coat is in the bathroom,” he told her. “You could have put it in your own bathroom upstairs.” She didn’t bother to attempt an answer to that one. “Is there anything I can get you? Would you like something to eat? Is there anything of Mother’s she can loan you?”

Laura shook her head, mutely. She felt about him the same way she had felt before. Strong waves of physical desire flushed through her body. And the letter was still in her mind! “Goodnight,” she whispered.

“I’ll be sure to wake you for church in the morning,” he told her in an ordinary tone. She rushed back upstairs and prepared for bed. She fell asleep at once and slept deeply, exhaustedly, until, lifting her head from the pillow, she saw it was already nine o’clock in the morning.

“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

The only thing that Laura didn’t like about church was that it made her feet hurt. It made her feet hurt and her legs tired so that she couldn’t concentrate. And when she couldn’t concentrate, she missed much of what was going on. So sometimes she sat while the rest of the congregation stood and she tried to give the impression of feeling poorly. But she could hardly do that in church on Christmas with the Decters. So her feet hurt and she didn’t know what was happening.

Still, the church was decked out very prosperously in celebration of the birth of the Word into flesh. Laura felt a sincere community with her fellow worshippers. Yet she couldn’t keep her thoughts on the service, and sitting brought absolutely no relief.

When she sat down she could think again, but her thoughts seemed to be mostly of the man sitting beside her—the man his family took to be engaged to her but who was really a reprobate, a seducer of women, and the father of a neglected illegitimate child.

She had gone down for breakfast and found him sitting in the roomy, sunny kitchen reading the paper. He was dressed, not for church, but in jeans and a red-and-brown checked flannel shirt. She had never seen him dressed so casually, and she liked it. He looked more slender than usual, but still athletic. He looked, in short, like someone she would have been glad to see for the rest of her life upon rising.

He put the paper down when she came in and got up.

“Good morning,” she said in not overly friendly tones.

“I’m the cook,” he told her. “What can I make for you?”

“Well, actually, just coffee to begin with,” she responded. “Some grapefruit might be nice though.”

He cut a grapefruit for her and poured her cup of coffee from the potful he had just prepared. He was very happy, cheerful, thoughtless of the crimes he had confessed.

Laura saw some bananas on the counter and asked for one of those too. She began eating and picked up the newspaper he had put down. A lot of pictures of snow were on the front page of the Times and several articles about oil and fuel.

“Are you going to sit there with the newspaper in front of you?” he asked.

She put down the newspaper. “I never read the news,” she said. “I only read the dance reviews. I try to keep as uninformed as possible because people do such ignorant things. And that’s not news to me, that’s disgusting. I hate the ugly ways people treat other people. I hate to see women abused, children abandoned. Yes, the disregard for children is the very worst thing in this whole world.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he agreed immediately.

“You say ‘yes, yes,’ but you aren’t considering what it is you’re saying. You aren’t thinking of the plight of a poor little child brought into the world without the security of loving parents to protect and to teach her. That’s why the rest of the news is as bad as it is. Uncared-for children grow up to have destructive rages.” Her speech was a bit much; she knew that.

He gave her a strange look, much as he had the night before. “I didn’t know you felt that way. Is this one of your special subjects?”

“Oh yes,” insisted Laura. “I always think of the hard time children have.”

“Yes,” Richard sighed. “I do too.” Then he looked to see if she was simply making fun of him, but no doubt saw only a deadly serious expression on her face.

He poured more coffee into her cup. “We can’t think of such things all the time, you know,” he advised her. “We have to enjoy life also.”

“Enjoy life,” she said harshly. “Yes, but what is enjoyment to some may cause pain to others.”

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re actually saying, but I can’t seem to, Laura, so will you speak plainly? What else have I done wrong that I haven’t already apologized for?” He was exasperated, but appeared aware that he wasn’t entirely innocent.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I have nothing to blame you for personally, but when I think of the situation of, say poor Elise, it gives me pause.”

“Poor Elise? I was under the impression that you disliked Elise.” He said it sharply.

“Dislike Elise? What gave you that idea? I never have spoken one word against Elise.” The grapefruit squirted in his direction.

“Except to her face,” he retorted.

“Did she ever repeat that conversation?” Laura was curious.

“No,” he said. He smiled. He couldn’t stop. That made Laura smile too. They smiled at one another, liking each other and feeling good. He stopped smiling. “Laura, why are you acting so funny?”

She stopped smiling too. “Do you suspect that I’m crazy?”

“Yes,” he said. “But seriously…”

“I am.” She sighed. “Elise is the actual victim in this whole matter.”

“Elise wouldn’t give a damn about any of this if she knew. She wouldn’t even listen if I told her, unless I mentioned her name every ten seconds. Elise isn’t interested, believe you me. You don’t have to concern yourself about Elise.” He began wiping up the tabletop with a paper towel.

How terrible for him, she thought miserably, to be involved with a woman like that, and to know his situation. How ironic as well that he was paying for all the other women he had ruined. Ruined, she thought, honestly! But still…

He looked over at her, in a heightened state of emotion, his eyes talking already, as he began to speak. “Elise,” he began again.

“Why, children, down so early? Merry Christmas. Let me make you breakfast.” Mrs. Decter was in a long, elegant plum robe.

“Merry Christmas, Mother.” Richard got up and kissed the woman, then indicated she should take his chair. Instead of settling down in another spot, he walked out. He glanced back at Laura when he came to the doorway. She and Mrs. Decter were looking curiously after him.

The congregation rose once more. Richard turned the pages of the hymnal and held it for the two of them. “Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o’er the plains. And the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strains.”

The angels sang, Laura thought. The sheep were bleating, never before having heard the sound of angels’ wings and voices. The shepherds tried to be mindful of the sheep, but were overwhelmed by their own awe at this once in a lifetime revelation. Perhaps they were tempted to pretend that they hadn’t heard the high strains of the angels’ call. To stay in the hills and not go to Bethlehem and worship.

Tears came into Laura’s eyes. Elise was no good for him. If she could save him that pain… Through her love, perhaps? She did love him, but she couldn’t show him that love completely, unless he had changed. Where was the child now? Was that why he needed Grandfather Turner’s money, to support the mother and the child?

Had Richard, in fact, told his father last night to make the engagement announcement, hoping to force Laura ahead with his manipulative scheme? Thinking of the possibility made her feel faint. Unconsciously, in the midst of the standing carolers, Laura sat. Richard looked down at her, and so, discreetly, did his parents, and finally an attentive Grandfather Turner, who sat as well and winked at her.

She smiled in return, somewhat embarrassed. She must seem a pretty weak bride for their Richard. And Richard thought that she was insane. Not a very desirable alternative to Elise. Elise, a totally self-absorbed beauty whom he loved anyway.

Richard’s hand came down on Laura’s shoulder. He offered her the book. She shook her head. Richard too sat down beside her. He grasped her hand and held it tightly, his face flushed with feeling again. They sat there in the midst of the singing congregation, blessedly silent. Only a brief time. The service was soon over.

He didn’t let go of her hand even when they stood. He brought her outside immediately, not lingering with the others. Here, he released her hand to push a few wisps of hair back from her face.

“You still aren’t feeling well, are you, Laura?” His voice was husky. “I haven’t been considerate. No wonder you’re edgy. You don’t have to be afraid to speak to me, you know.” She nodded, dumbly, glad of his attention and affectionate concern.

He took her hand again. Together, in the sunshine, they gazed at the snow-covered fields, and watched a few stubborn winter birds flying above them. Some people came out from the church and went to their cars.

Richard drew Laura a little bit closer. “Shall we go through with the engagement?” he whispered. “Shall we get married?”

A shock ran through her. Those were the words that under other circumstances, she might have hoped to hear. But coming immediately after her most suspicious moment, she was horrified. His plotting was as artful as Shetley’s had ever been.

“Grandfather Turner will support us,” he went on relentlessly. “You can take a rest.”

She pulled away from him with force and ran toward his family, who were coming out of church. She came up beside Mr. Turner and linked her arm with his. Mr. Turner put his hand over Laura’s as Richard walked toward them slowly, his head down.

“Mark,” shouted Milly. “Come over here. We’re going to Grandma’s.”

Laura sat in the back seat of the car between Richard and his mother. Richard didn’t look at Laura, but stared out the window. Mrs. Decter gave them both a thoughtful glance. How she must wonder, Laura mused, after what we told her last night. Before the engagement.

Laura tried to join in the conversation, but she wasn’t equal to the occasion. When they arrived at the house, Laura asked if she might help Mrs. Decter with the meal. Mrs. Decter accepted. “If you feel up to it, my dear, you can help with the salad.”

They went into the kitchen, and Milly started at once to set the dining room table. “We don’t have a whole lot left to do,” Mrs. Decter commented. “I didn’t cook it, you know. Hannah cooked Friday before she left.”

Laura began fixing the salad. Salads were her specialty. She rummaged through the refrigerator and the spice racks. “If you need anything, dear, just ask,” Mrs. Decter said.

They worked quietly a moment. “I’m so happy that you and Richard have decided to marry,” Mrs. Decter said, speaking up at last. “I can see that something is still bothering the two of you about this, so if I can do anything to help… If it’s money, you won’t have a problem with that. Mr. Decter and I will be glad to see that you and Richard are comfortable, doing whatever makes you happy.”

“I was married once, for a time, several years ago, Mrs. Decter,” responded Laura.

“That can’t possibly be an obstacle, my dear.”

“My marriage turned out disastrously,” Laura went on. “At least disastrously to my own self-esteem. I’m naturally cautious about marrying again.”

“But you’ve finally decided,” stated Mrs. Decter. “Or do you still have doubts?”

Laura shredded the lettuce carefully. “I’d be sorry to disappoint any of you, Mrs. Decter. You’ve all been so completely kind and generous with me and I do love you all. But I’m very uncertain.”

“I can understand if you tell me the past hasn’t been kind,” Richard’s mother began. She brought a salad spinner out of the cupboard for Laura’s use. “But dear, you would be very, very foolish if you lost the future on account of that.”

Laura was very close to tears. “Do you know your son entirely, Mrs. Decter?”

The older woman smiled. “I like to think that I do. I know him pretty well, anyway.”

“Do you know of any reason why he ought not marry me?” Laura asked tremulously.

“Why, none whatsoever.” Her supposed future mother-in-law seemed taken aback.

“Do you think Mr. Decter might know something you don’t?” Laura was naturally hesitant in asking this question.

“I’d be rather surprised. My husband and I are quite open with each other. We have a very good marriage, Laura dear. So you see, such a marriage is possible. I know it isn’t believed in much these days. But I’ve experienced it.” Mrs. Decter gave an encouraging smile to Laura and took the salad bowl out of her hands. “You run along and find Richard now.”

Laura went into the living room where Mr. Decter was finishing building a fire in the fireplace. She sat down beside Mr. Turner on the sofa. She wanted to be near him. “Shall we have our bridge game after supper?” asked Richard’s grandfather.

Laura smiled at him. “They’re probably afraid of us.”

“I’ll let you and Richard be partners,” he said. “I’m used to Milly. Or I think I can persuade my daughter to play. She doesn’t mind it, you know.”

Laura again gave him her warmest smile, as if that might lighten whatever burden he carried on his heart. “You ought to lie down and take a nap now,” she suggested.

“No, old men like me never need any sleep. Only young people with too much on their minds need to sleep. I never have any worries, so my mind is always clear. Don’t believe what they tell you about old people. We aren’t the fragile ones—we’ve seen too much to let little troubles bother us, and we’re resigned to life as it is. At least I am. I shouldn’t speak for anyone but myself.” But he paused to rest, despite what he had said.

“I’m going out, Dad, for some extra wood.” Mr. Decter took his coat—the coat with the letter—from the hall closet and went out.

“I have a good family,” Mr. Turner said. “Now that’s something I’m very grateful for. Imagine what it would be like for me, an old man, without my family. And they’re very good to me, all of them. George and Milly pick me up for church every Sunday, like today. Milly worries about me entirely too much.” He chuckled.

“That’s what I mean about young people worrying when we old ones don’t. But Milly is young. Age will settle her down. And you, dear child, you have too many worries, also. I don’t like seeing that.” He patted her hand. “What are your worries, young woman? Would you like to share one with an old man?” he invited.

“I don’t have any worries,” Laura denied.

“Now, now. I may be old, but I see things. Richard hasn’t hurt you, has he? Sometimes young men don’t understand young girls. I don’t think Richard means to be cruel.” He smiled kindly at her.

Milly came into the room. “Here, Grandpa, I turned down the bed in the den. Come and lie down for ten minutes or so.”

“Everyone wants to make me go to bed,” Mr. Turner grumbled. But he went.

Laura sat on the sofa and watched the fire. They all had such confidence in Richard’s innocence—Milly, Mrs. Decter, Grandfather Turner. She almost had confidence in him as well, despite the varied evidence. No doubt Bernie Madoff’s many investors had thought him a nice honest fellow, too.

Mr. Decter came in carrying a stack of wood and laid the logs out by the fire. “They’re wet from the snow. I hope they dry out. Are you doing all right, Laura? Would you like some kind of Christmas cordial?”

“No, thank you,” said Laura. “I’m doing fine.” She watched him take off his coat and put it back in the closet. He fixed himself a drink and sat on the sofa beside her.

“We haven’t had much of a chance to speak, have we, young lady? But I meant what I said last night. I want to welcome you to the Decter family. I hope you can put up with our funny ways.” He got up, stirred the fire, then sat down again.

“You do think I should marry Richard, Mr. Decter? That I’ll be good for him and that he’ll be good for me?” She looked at him searchingly.

“It’s natural that a young girl should have doubts about becoming a bride. In this day and age, I guess, more so than ever. Milly didn’t hesitate when George asked her to marry him. She’s been pretty happy as far as I can see, two kids later.”

“But you do think that Richard is respectful toward women? I was married once before, you see, to a man who was not.” And maybe the answer was none of her business.

“Richard? He’s as much a gentleman as you’re likely to find. But it surprises me to hear you were married once before. You appear to be so young.” He sipped at his drink and watched the fire with apparently no more than her domestic affairs on his mind.

“You’re absolutely sure, Mr. Decter, that you have nothing more you want to tell me about your son?” How tall did a policewoman have to be?

He turned to her, mildly astonished. Then he considered the question, however odd. “I don’t think that Richard will ever make a hell of a lot of money,” he concluded.

“Oh, money.” Laura dismissed that caution without thought.