Chapter Eleven

She went upstairs to wash for supper. Richard’s room was across from Milly’s. The door was open and Richard was lying down, reading. “Laura,” he called out as she passed. She went and stood in the doorway and saw that he was leafing through the book she had given him yesterday. “Come in a minute.”

She entered the room slowly. He must be angry at her for not agreeing to marry him. She sat in his desk chair and watched him lying on his side with his head propped up on his arm. She couldn’t read his emotion exactly. To her, he appeared more real than others, his very features etched more clearly. She felt as if she had been walking through a wax museum for decades, never catching sight of another human being. Suddenly, here he was before her. He was her own kind.

“Isn’t the food ready yet?” he asked.

“Mark, Tricia, and George went out for a walk. We’re waiting for them and they should be back any second. Are you starving?” Now she noticed the drawings framed under the glass top of his desk. Birds, flowers, tress, insects, all in a boy’s hand, as he had said.

“Don’t you ever get hungry?” he asked her.

“I get hungry, but the sensation goes away. Eating isn’t as necessary as most people think. I eat. But not all the time.” She remembered a certain snapshot of him that Mrs. Decter had shown her. He was thin and very serious in that photograph, as though he were studying to be a physicist or an explorer.

“Am I keeping you? Did you want to rest? You can go, if you like,” he dismissed her.

“I’m going to call my parents,” she said, “and wish them a Merry Christmas.”

“Are you sorry you didn’t go home for Christmas, after all?” He was being slightly distant, that was it.

“I’m not sorry, Richard, I’m glad. Your family was very kind to have me this weekend. I’m sorry it had to be under such false pretenses. I hope that someday everything will come untangled and they’ll still like me. You’re pretty lucky to have such a family, you know. They all have such confidence in you. Even your father. Yes, even your father thinks you’re a gentleman.” She stared at him, watching for a guilty reaction. None came.

“I know I’m lucky,” Richard said. “They’re more than I deserve.”

Ah ha, Laura thought. “I don’t know why you say that.”

“I’m not the person I wish I were,” he said. “I wish that I were a better sort. It’s what you were saying this morning I guess. About the world. Wouldn’t it be nice to make the world a better place than it is? I don’t know how to do that except by trying to be a better person than I am. And trying to create something beautiful. My family though, I think they’re pretty special.”

He sat up at last. “Thank you for the book, Laura. That was awfully thoughtful. I think you’re a very good person too. I want you to know that. That I think very highly of you.”

“Oh,” said Laura off-handedly, “I’m not as good as you seem to imagine.” She stood up to leave him.

“No, Laura, no matter what, I’ll always think the best of you.” He meant something particular by that, but she wasn’t sure what.

She called her parents, washed, then went down to supper. Everyone was assembled, waiting for her. She apologized, mentioned speaking to her parents.

“Did you tell them the good news?” Mr. Decter asked. “Did you speak to them, Richard?”

“I didn’t want to tell them like this,” Laura explained. “You don’t know my father. Maybe Richard and I should fly out there.” One blunder after another that resulted in such a statement had all started with one simple deception.

“That would be nice,” Richard’s mother put in. “Of course if they come East, we would love to have them here. I suppose the wedding will be there though. It’s much nicer being the bride’s mother. That’s all the fun.”

“We don’t want a big wedding,” said Laura. Or any wedding at all for that matter. “The immediate families, I should think.” Or no guests whatsoever. And no bride and no groom.

“It may be a while,” Richard added.

“Not trying to back out already?” teased George.

“I think we should leave Laura and Richard alone,” said Milly. “And let them do whatever they want.” And she very definitely changed the topic of conversation.

After the meal, they played bridge, and after bridge, Laura ran upstairs to take a nap. When she came back down again about an hour and a half later, everyone had disappeared. The fire in the living room was slowly dying and Laura fed it the driest log that she could find. She sat on the floor in front of the blaze and tried to use it as a crystal ball, but failed to receive any messages.

He put the envelope into his coat pocket and never read it, Laura now thought. Mr. Decter couldn’t be covering up the truth in this way. Not with such ease. That was her hypnotic vision from the fire. That was the answer. None of them knew.

No, but that wasn’t right. Because the letter came after a confessional telephone call. Mr. Decter knew everything. Then it was a case of “like father, like son.” That was the simplest explanation. Both men were blatant deceivers of women!

How awful for her to have to think such a thing. She would almost rather be manipulated by Richard than to have to hold such an opinion of Mr. Decter. She thought of her own father. Indeed, if she had told him of her engagement this afternoon, how suspicious he would have been. As if Richard might marry her for her money—when his family had more than hers ever did. Was her own suspicious nature inherited from her father then—and equally unfounded?

Everywhere she turned, the situation ended in confusion for her. The only thing she did know for certain was that the sight of Richard made her tremble. That her thoughts turned to him endlessly. That she longed to feel his arms hold her close as they had last night when he’d carried her through the snow.

They would spend one more night together in this house. If only he would come to her. Or if she would have the senseless courage to go to him. The question of his character didn’t matter so much when she thought, felt, in this way. If she could have him, if she could be with him… Oh.

Yes, she would. That would resolve everything. Surely he wouldn’t turn her away. How wonderful their love would be, if only for one night. Only for one night, and then forever over. That would be torture. And not quite right. She wanted him, but she wanted him endless night after endless night. She wanted to have him in order to love him, not in order to give him up.

The four of them, the Decters and Richard and Laura, had a light dinner in the village and went to see the only movie playing, Pompeii. The others thought it was the most dreadful thing they had ever seen, but Laura admired it. “I know it was terrible,” she admitted, “but it was terrific.”

They took Laura for a drive, showed her the traditional Christmas lights that brightened all the homes in this area. “Someday, we’ll all drive up to the lodge for a weekend,” Richard’s father suggested to them.

“Someday Richard and Laura will drive up,” countered Mrs. Decter firmly. “Richard used to go up there himself quite a lot,” she added to Laura. Laura wondered if he had, in fact, been all alone.

It was late by the time they got back to the house, but Mrs. Decter insisted on fixing them all a hot chocolate before bedtime. “We won’t have many chances like this one to enjoy our children,” she said wistfully.

“Yes,” went on Richard’s father in a voice of gloom, “before you know it, they’ll have children of their own.” Then he chuckled. He put his arm around his son. “I think Richard would like that.” Richard looked highly embarrassed.

Laura’s blood ran cold. Could it be that Richard’s already living child had slipped his father’s mind altogether? At least Richard, in the semblance of decency, was blushing. Taken in another context, of course, his father’s thought would have been heartwarming, not chilling the way she felt it now.

The Decters had obviously been watching Richard and Laura all night for some small token of affection to pass between them, yet both were acting like high school kids on a first date. Richard appeared to want to shake Laura’s hand and Laura knew she looked like a doe facing a shotgun.

The older couple said good-night and Mrs. Decter dragged away her husband. The prospective bride and bridegroom were alone again. Richard sank back down into his chair. “Oh God,” he moaned. “This is awful.” Then he laughed. “Oh, Laura, I know you’ll never be able to forgive me for this. The situation goes from bad to worse, doesn’t it really? They’re both trying to be kind, you know.” He sighed.

Richard seemed to Laura like such a nice person. And so warm and cuddly, too. She wanted to sit down on his lap and put her arms completely around him. She wanted to marry him and go to a honeymoon lodge in the woods and be his lifelong companion. And they could go to the movies and argue about what films they liked. And he could paint and she would be a dancer who sometimes tucked their children in at night and went off to perform for an appreciative audience.

“Sit down,” suggested Richard. “Or were you going to go to bed?” She sat. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and drew her knees up. He watched her. It was impossible for her to feel comfortable under his gaze. It was impossible for her to feel comfortable anywhere but in his arms.

“Speak to me, Laura,” he begged. “I don’t know what to say to you. I’d like to do something to please you, but I only seem to make things worse.”

The problem, dear Richard, is that I love you, and I’m afraid of being hurt. It was exactly what Elise had told Laura about herself. She was frightened. She avoided Richard’s eyes and couldn’t open her mouth. Everything that was possible to say had been said, and the rest, the most important, couldn’t be uttered.

So they sat silently as he gazed at her and she stared at her hands, which were motionless in her lap. Richard waited for her to speak and Laura was awkwardly, painfully, without words. He finally turned his eyes away, disappointed, and while he wasn’t watching, she shed a poignant tear. “Never mind,” he told her. “Go upstairs. I’ll put out the lights.” She stood and went up to her bed alone. This night she had a restless sleep, with frantic, chasing dreams.

Monday morning, Milly brought the kids over and Laura entertained them with drawing and ping pong in the basement recreation room. Richard was painting in his “studio” in the attic where he had installed a large skylight some years before.

Milly and Laura had lunch with Mr. Turner at his home and then returned to the Decter house. Laura felt at loose ends, ready to leave. She went to her room and packed up all the things she had brought and the presents that she still hadn’t taken emotional possession of.

Richard came down as she was finishing packing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You want to go.”

“I’d like to get back to the City,” she agreed. “But I can wait a couple of hours while you do some more painting.”

“No, it’s nothing. I wasn’t doing very well, anyway. Maybe I’m not actually a painter. I’ve been fooling myself.” He seemed rather depressed.

“You never know,” said Laura, “but you have to continue. You have no other way out.”

“No,” acknowledged Richard. “I don’t have another way. I’ll be ready soon though. Listen, Laura, I’ve had another idea. About our engagement. We can tell everyone we changed our minds. It’s not really going to kill my grandfather, if we do that. Honestly, I don’t think he’s as sick as Milly makes out.”

“Saying we’re engaged doesn’t matter to me,” said Laura. “I’m not as uncomfortable about it as you think I am. We don’t have to tell them right now.”

“Well,” Richard said reluctantly. “If you should want to get engaged to someone else in the meantime, our supposed engagement might make that difficult. I don’t know why, but the dual engagement might feel strange to you, or something.”

“I’m not planning to become engaged at any time in the near future.” She made a face. “But you and Elise might want to get married.”

“No, that’s the last thing Elise and I are going to do.” He sounded definite.

“I thought you wanted that?” She only asked to be polite, of course.

“I thought I wanted that too, at one time. My marrying her wasn’t a very good idea to begin with though.” His eyes revealed something of himself. “I actually have never been in love with anyone, I think. I guess that’s why I believed marriage with Elise would be all right. We wouldn’t bother one another too much, and from time to time I could be useful to her.” He paused, hesitant.

“I am useful to her in that way. When she feels frightened, you see, she comes to me. That’s more or less the basis of our relationship. No jealousy on either side, no possessiveness, no pain. I thought I could be safe that way and do my painting. But I don’t know if I can paint—I just don’t know. And if I can’t love either, then I can’t explain the reason for my living.” He leaned against the doorway. Laura wanted to lean against him.

In a way she was stronger than he was. She had no doubts about her dancing, about her ability to go on with it, about her reasons for doing so. If she had no legs, she would still go on, not noticing any impediment. But when the matter came to love, she suffered a lot of confusion. She was more in conflict than he, she felt. He seemed steady and dependable.

Steady and dependable. He comforted a frightened Elise. He would stay with Laura also. Not as he had let go the mother of his child. That was years before, thought Laura. She had been so young four years ago herself. She hadn’t understood anything about responsibility then, either. Certainly she could forgive him, not knowing what painful moments he must have gone through at that time. She wanted to forgive him. She needed him so desperately, if he would have her.

Laura pulled herself close to him. His arm came around her. Her whole body, her heart, was warmed by that embrace. Lord, how she loved him. Her knees shook, and in a minute, the tears would flow. Let him love me, she thought, let him love me. She never wanted to be apart from him again.

Gently, he pushed her away. “Thank you, Laura,” he said. “I wanted you to understand. That’s very important to me. I want us always to be friends.” He still held her hand, now he dropped it. “I’ll get my things together and we’ll go.”

He went into his room and Laura fled quickly into the bathroom to stand shaking with great gusts of silent weeping. She turned the water on full force, breathed, and sobbed again and again as quietly as possible. At last she blew her nose and washed her face. Two puffy eyes greeted her in the mirror.

Friends. They would always be friends. Not if she could help it. She didn’t want to be his friend. To never to see him again would be better than to see him always at friendship’s serene distance, feeling for him what she did. No, she would never see him again if friendship was all that he was able to offer.

She was being silly, of course. She could be friends with Dante, why not Richard? How many true friendships had she that she could afford to lose a single one. She would need a long time of healing, however. She would need more than a few weeks to get over loving him.

Richard put the suitcases into the car and they faced the Decters to say good-bye and thank you. Laura hugged both of Richard’s parents this time, as did Richard. “Next week,” said Mrs. Decter. “I suppose Richard told you. We’re having a little New Year’s Eve party. Unless you children have other plans.”

“I have a dance concert to go to,” Laura answered nervously.

“All right then, as soon as you two are able to make it. If you won’t be taking Richard home with you, first. Please let me know when I can call your mother. I’m looking forward to speaking to her.” Mrs. Decter hugged Laura once again.

Not much was said between the young “couple” on the ride back to New York. Laura was tired and preoccupied.

“I’ll call you soon,” Richard told her as they parted outside her building. She turned and watched as he drove away.