When She Was Good (36 page)

All this she would have done, and gladly too, had he revealed the depths of his viciousness as briefly as a month ago. But now such a severing was out of the question—for very shortly her job would be not to earn a living for a family, but to be a mother to a second child. There was not just herself and Edward to protect: there was a third life to consider too. Whatever her own feelings and desires, she saw no gain, but only endless hardship, in permitting this man to run out on a child in its infancy … So, though she had now been given every cause to loathe him; though she understood now the horrid extremes to which he would go to defend himself and humiliate her; though she would as soon open the door of the Sowerby house to learn that he was dead, for him to desert his family was out of the question. He had duties and obligations, and he was going to perform them, whether he liked them or not. He was not staying behind in that house, or anywhere in this town, and thereby unburdening himself of the pain there just happened to be in life. Who, after all, was Roy Bassart that he should feel no pain? Who was Roy Bassart that he should live a privileged existence? Who was Roy Bassart to be without responsibilities? This was not heaven. This was the world!

There were no lights on in any of the houses at The Grove. The plow had been through already, and the taxi was able to make its way easily up the street. When they stopped in front of the Sowerbys’, she thought of telling the driver to wait; in a moment she would be out with her child … But that could not be. Hateful as he was to her, there were facts and circumstances she must not be blind to: she would never, never save herself at the expense of an unborn child.

But there was no sign of the Hudson. Either he had pulled it in the Sowerby garage—or he was no longer there. He had
fled further north! To Canada! Beyond the reaches of the law! He had stolen Edward! He had abandoned her!

No! She closed her eyes to shut out the worst until the worst was known; she pressed the doorbell, heard its ring, and saw her father sitting in a cell in the Florida State Prison. He is sitting on a three-legged stool wearing a striped uniform. There is a number on his chest. His mouth is open and on his teeth, in lipstick, is written INNOCENT.

The door was opened by Julian Sowerby.

Instantly she remembered where she was and what exactly had to be done.

“Julian, I am here for Roy and Edward. Where are they?”

He was wearing a shiny blue robe over his pajamas. “Well. Lucy. Long time no see.”

“I am here for a purpose, Julian. Is Roy hiding out with you or not? If he is with his parents, tell me please, and—”

He placed a finger over his lips. “Shhh,” he whispered. “People are sleeping.”

“I want to know, Julian—”

“Shhh, shhh; it’s after one. Come on in, why don’t you?” He motioned for her to hurry through the door. “Brrrr. Must be ten below.”

Was she to be let in without resistance? On the bus coming north she had prepared herself for the possibility of a scene right out on the doorstep. Instead she was following Julian quietly through the hall and into the living room. And why? Of course—because what Roy had done was so obviously outrageous that even the Sowerbys could no longer take his side. In her isolation she had exaggerated—not the seriousness of Roy’s act, but the seriousness with which even her enemies would accept his story. The person who had slammed down the phone earlier was only Roy himself; the chances were he hadn’t even had the nerve to make the call in the presence of a rational human being.

To understand this came as a tremendous relief. In her entire life she had never retreated from a struggle that had to be, and she would not have retreated here; she would, if
necessary, actually have hurled herself against Julian Sowerby in order to enter his house and reclaim her husband and her child. But how grateful she was to be able to follow calmly and quietly behind. It was the scene with her family earlier in the day that had caused her imagination to become so extreme, that had led her to prepare herself for the fiercest struggle of her life. But as it turned out, Roy had now been revealed in such a way that even the most hard-hearted and unthinking of his supporters had lost all sympathy.

And was that not bound to happen? Eventually, must not the truth prevail? Oh, it had not been in vain then that she had sacrificed and struggled! Oh yes, of course! If you know you are in the right, if you do not weaken or falter, if despite everything thrown up against you, despite every hardship, every pain, you oppose what you know in your heart is wrong; if you harden yourself against the opinions of others, if you are willing to endure the loneliness of pursuing what is good in a world indifferent to good; if you struggle with every fiber of your body, even as others scorn you, hate you and fear you; if you push on and on and on, no matter how great the agony, how terrible the strain—then one day the truth will finally be known—

“Sit down,” said Julian.

“Julian,” she said evenly, “I don’t think I will. I think, without delay, really—”

“Sit down, Lucy.” He was smiling, and pointing to a chair.

“I’d rather not.” She spoke firmly.

“But I don’t care what you would rather do. I am telling you what you are going to do. First thing is sit.”

“I don’t need to rest, thank you.”

“But you do, Cutie-Pie. You need a long, long rest.”

She felt anger shoot through her. “I don’t know what you think you’re saying, Julian, and I don’t care. I did not come here at this hour, at the end of a grueling day, to sit—”

“Oh, no?”

“—and talk with you.”

She stopped. Of what use
was
talk? How she had deluded
herself only the second before—how pathetic, how foolish, how innocent of her, to have a generous thought about a person such as this. They were no better than she’d thought; they were worse.

“I’ve been sitting up for you, Lucy,” said Julian. “What do you think of that? I’ve been looking forward to this, actually, for a long time. I figured you’d be on that bus.”

“There is no reason why you shouldn’t have expected me,” she said. “It’s what any mother would have done.”

“Yes, sir, that’s you, all right. Well, sit down, Any Mother.”

She did not move.

“Well,” he said, “then I’ll sit.” He settled into a chair, all the time keeping an eye on her.

She was suddenly confused. There were the stairs—why didn’t she just walk up them, and wake Roy? “Julian,” she said, “I would appreciate it if you would go upstairs and tell my husband that I am here and I want to see him. I have come all the way from Fort Kean, Julian, in the middle of the night, because of what he has done. But I am willing to be reasonable about this, if you are.”

Julian took a loose cigarette out of the pocket of his robe and straightened it between two fingers. “You are, huh?” he said, and lit it.

What a disgusting little man! Why did she say “if you are”—what had he to do with it? And why
was
he waiting up for her in his pajamas and robe? Was this all preparatory to making some indecent offer? Was he going to try to seduce her while his own wife, his own daughter—?

But at the top of the stairs Irene appeared—and it was then that Lucy understood fully the monstrousness of what these people were planning to do.

“Irene—” She had the sensation that she might fall backward. “Irene,” she said, and had to take a deep breath to go on, “will you please, since you are up there, awaken Roy? Please tell him that I have come all the way from Fort Kean. That I am here, please, for him and for Edward.”

She did not have to look over at Julian to know his gaze
was fixed upon her. “The snow has stopped,” she said, still to the woman at the top of the stairs, who was wearing a quilted robe over her nightgown. “So we will drive home. If he is too tired, then we will take a room somewhere for the night. But he is not staying here. Nor is Edward.”

Instead of heading back along the corridor to awaken Roy, Irene started down the stairs. Her hair had gone nearly white in the last few years, and she seemed heavier; or else, without a corset the thickness of her body was more easily discernible. Altogether her appearance was that of an elderly matron, thoroughly composed, and of all things, sympathetic.

“Irene, I want to tell you that your letting Roy think he could get away with this—”

“Yes?” said Julian, from where he sat, smoking.

“—will make it altogether impossible for us ever to see you again. And that means all of us, including Edward. And I hope you will all realize, once again, that this is something you have absolutely brought upon yourselves.”

“We realize everything, kiddo,” said Julian.

Irene moved toward her, with one hand extended. “Lucy, why don’t you sit down? Why don’t we try to talk and see what’s happened?”

“Look,” she said, stepping back, “I do not choose to stay in this house, or even in this town, one second longer than is necessary. You are not my friend, Irene, and don’t suddenly pretend that you are. I am not that stupid, and you should know that. From the very first day that Roy began to take me out, you have behaved as though I were some kind of inferior thing. As though
I
weren’t worthy of
him
. I know what your true feelings are, so don’t think you can trick me by taking hold of my hand. You may deceive yourself however you like, but your actions have spoken louder than your words. This is plain idiocy on Roy’s part, and he and Edward are to leave here this instant, and return with me—”

“I think,” said Julian, standing now, “that, first thing, you better calm yourself down.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, Julian!” She turned to face
him, to look right into those dishonest eyes. Oh, she would wipe that little smirk off his face. How superior they thought they were, these people with the morals of animals! “You have no authority over me whatsoever. I think you had better be reminded of that, Julian. I don’t happen to be one of the people dependent upon your millions.”

“Billions,” he said, grinning.

Irene said, “Lucy, if I make some coffee—”

“I don’t want coffee! I want my child! And my husband—such as he is! They are to be returned to me immediately. This instant.”

“But, Lucy dear—” Irene began.

“Don’t you ‘dear’ me! I do not trust you, Mrs. Sowerby—any more than I do him!”

Julian’s figure had suddenly moved between Lucy and his wife. “Now,” he said, “rule number one—either you calm down with that bossy little voice, missy, or you get out.”

“But suppose I will
not
get out.”

“Then you are a trespasser, and I will heave you out—on your butt.”

“Don’t you
dare
speak to me—” And she broke for the stairs. An arm, however, fell instantly upon her back; she pulled away, but he had caught hold of her coat.

“No! Let
me—
”

But his other hand fell upon her shoulder, and she was driven down so forcefully that she felt herself become ill. He had seated her; and was over her, his face purple with fury. His bathrobe had fallen open, and she had a glimpse of his stomach between the buttons of his pajamas.

She did not move or speak. He straightened up and pulled his robe closed, but remained directly before her.

Precise and exact in her diction, Lucy began. “You have no right—”

“Don’t you tell me rights, you little twenty-year-old twerp. It is you who is going to learn rights.”

“Well,” said Lucy, her mind racing, “well, Irene”—trying to look past him to his wife—“you must be very proud of having as a husband a brute, who beats someone half his—”

“Who you are dealing with, Lucy, is me. So it’s me you talk to. Not Irene.”

Now Ellie came out onto the landing. She stood there in her white wrapper, both hands on the banister, looking down.

Lucy turned her face up to Julian’s, and spoke so only he could hear. “I know about you, Julian. So just you be careful.”

“Oh, do you?” He pushed right up against her knees. She drew her head back from his belly. “And what is it you know?” he asked, his voice gruff and low. “You trying to threaten me? Speak up!”

She could not see beyond his bulk. She could not even think now,
and she must
. “Since I did not come here to discuss your character,” she began, addressing the belt of his robe, “I’m not going to, Julian.”

“Good idea,” he said, and stepped back.

Eleanor had disappeared.

Lucy folded her hands in the lap of her coat; she had to wait until she was sure that her voice would not falter. “So long as I can do what I came here to do, and then leave, there is no need to enter into any kind of discussion … That is fine with me.” Then she looked up at Irene. “Now will someone please awaken my husband—
please.
”

“Maybe he is sleeping,” said Julian. “Ever think of that? Maybe he has had one hell of a day from you, sister.”

He remained standing so that she could not get up out of her chair; she hammered on the arms. “We have all had one hell of a day, Julian! I have had a
horror
of a day. Now, I demand that he be told—”

“But your demanding days are over. That, twerp, is the point of all this.”

“Please …” she said, breathing deeply, “I would much prefer to deal with your wife, who has a civil tongue at least, if you don’t mind.”

“But my civil wife isn’t dealing with you.”

“Excuse me,” said Lucy, “perhaps she has a mind of her own, sir—”

“My wife
dealt
with you, kiddo. Back when she told me there was still some evidence you were a human being. But it
turns out that I should never have taken her advice four years ago, back when you started
out
sinking your fangs into that boy.”

“That boy seduced me, Julian! It became that boy’s duty to me—”

He turned away and looked at his wife. “Duty,” he said, snorting.

She jumped up from the chair. “You may not like the word, Julian, but I repeat—it was his duty to me—”

“Oh,” he said, shaking his head, “everybody has got that there duty to you. But who is it you got the sacred duty to, Lucy? Seems to me I forget.”

“To my child!” she answered. “To the offspring of my husband and myself! To someone starting out in life, that’s who! To see that he is given a home and a family and proper upbringing! To see he is not misused by all the beasts in this filthy world!”