Amherst (17 page)

“Perhaps it suited me not to tell you.”

“But why? Did you want me to think the worst of you?”

“Perhaps I wanted to keep you out of reach.”

Alice feels giddy.

“Why?” she hears herself say.

“You belong with my past.”

With the famous Laura.

“And you’ve cut yourself off from all that?”

“That’s the way it’s worked out.”

“One long catalog of failure. Not a great result.”

“I struggle on.”

“Desire being the opposite of death.”

She has no idea what she’s saying. Is this a confession? It feels like something else, something perilously close to flirtation. She sees the way he’s watching her, and realizes he no longer knows how she’s going to respond.

To her surprise she feels a wave of tenderness towards him.

“Oh, Nick,” she says. “What an old fraud you are.”

“Am I?”

“No, that’s not fair. How do I know?”

“I don’t mind being a fraud. I’d just as soon not be old.”

“You’re not that old.”

Alice thinks of Guy, her father, and how he had an affair with a friend of hers, a girl of her own age. At school they used to call girls like that “daddy stealers.” It happens.

“I’m old enough to know what I’m doing,” says Nick.

“What are you doing?”

“Not taking advantage of you.”

“Well, fuck you.” She speaks softly so the other diners won’t hear. “There is no way you could take advantage of me. I do what I choose to do, and I don’t do what I choose not to do. I run my own life.”

“If you say so.”

They’re looking at each other all the time now, and it doesn’t really matter anymore what they say. Contact has been made.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she says. “You’re still living in a Victorian fantasyland of seduction and betrayal. The irresistible male. The helpless female, a moth to his flame.”

He gives a slight shake of his head, never taking his eyes off her.

“What do you want me to tell you, Alice?”

Tell me again that I’m beautiful. Tell me you desire me. Give me the pleasure of telling you to go fuck yourself.

“Don’t protect me, Nick. I’m grown-up now.”

“Maybe I’m protecting myself.”

“From what? From me?”

“Why not? Maybe it’s you who’s taking advantage of me.”

“To achieve what, exactly?”

“How do I know? Maybe it’s some unfinished business to do with your father.”

Alice flinches, and the intense eye contact is broken. She feels as if he’s slapped her. Then she feels outraged. Then she thinks, What if it’s true?

Their main courses arrive. Emmanuel announces them.

“For the lady, pork confit with polenta and pear glaze. For the gentleman, scallops in a chanterelle mushroom sauce, with potato purée and steamed kale. Enjoy.”

They do not enjoy. They look up from their plates and find each other again.

“Don’t listen to me,” says Nick. “I’ve no right to tell you anything. I’ve screwed up my own life. I don’t want to be any part of screwing up yours.”

“That’s agreed, then.”

Still they don’t start eating. Just looking into each other’s eyes,
and knowing what’s coming, and waiting for it to be too late to stop.

Suddenly she doesn’t want to be in this restaurant. She wants to be back in his house, the house that belongs to the wife who is an ex-wife, who is no longer a barrier.

“Have you ever ordered a meal in a restaurant,” she says, “and left without eating it?”

“No,” he says.

“Is it a wicked thing to do?”

“Not if you pay.”

“I’m not going to be able to eat this.”

“I’ll ask for the check.”

This is how they know it’s going to happen, by speaking of something else. They have moved beyond the point at which she can tell him to go fuck himself.

How did I end up here?

But of course it’s been coming for days. And why not? There’s no one left to deceive. A brief adventure that hurts no one.

I’ve none to tell me to but thee.

Outside in the parking lot he gives her a hand up into the cab of his stupid truck. He keeps hold of her hand. She turns to look at him, standing there in the cold night.

“Don’t do this, Alice,” he says.

“I do what I want,” she says. “You do what you want. That’s how it works in the world of grown-ups.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“So don’t do it.”

He gets in and starts the engine. The heater roars. They drive out onto Pleasant Street, the road that leads to the cemetery.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says.

•  •  •

After so much talk there are no words when they reenter the house on Triangle Street. He takes her hand and they climb the wide stairs together like children going to bed. They kiss briefly in the doorway to his bedroom. She goes in first. Their silence is a secret agreement: what they’re doing requires no justification, and will leave little trace. They’re alone in the big house, but he still closes the bedroom door.

14

In the months that followed the consummation of their love, Mabel and Austin met almost every day. When they could not meet they wrote to each other. They had their special times, at ten in the morning, and at five in the afternoon, when they went walking together. When Mabel was away, they thought of each other at these times. They created their own private prayer, which they spoke in unison when together.

“For my beloved is mine and I am his. What can we want beside? Nothing!”

For a time the lovers were not troubled by their partners. Sue Dickinson, still in mourning for her dead child, kept mostly to her house. David Todd struck up a friendship with a Bostonian cousin of Mabel’s called Caro Andrews, a handsome young woman who was bored by her rich husband. A house became available for rent, off Triangle Street, behind the Dickinson houses. The Todds were able to set up their own establishment at last, and bring their daughter, Millicent, now three years old, to live with them on a permanent basis. To Millicent, Austin was the family
friend, a little frightening in his silences, but almost as familiar to her as her father.

In their quiet walks together down summer lanes, Austin and Mabel never tired of exploring the miracle that was their love.

“Do you ever wish,” Mabel said, “that we’d known each other when we were growing up? We could have played together as children.”

“I would have loved you even then,” said Austin.

“The grown-ups would have said, ‘Look at those two! They’re inseparable!’ ”

“So we would have been.”

“But I like it better as it is,” said Mabel. “There’s something magical about meeting someone when you’re fully grown, and knowing you’ve met your destiny.”

“Magical,” said Austin, “and almost more than I can comprehend. I think I must be in dreamland, I’m afraid to wake. It’s too much, the happiness overwhelms me, but I am awake. You are here beside me. The sweetest, richest dreams of my boyhood, and youth, and manhood, have all come true.”

His low fervent voice thrilled her as they walked.

“Dear Austin. My own dearest man.”

“When I look round the pews in church and see the good people of Amherst sitting so comfortably together, all those husbands and wives, I ask myself, Can they feel as we feel?”

“What?” said Mabel. “The Bartletts and the Bigelows and the Hitchcocks and the Hills? I don’t think so! The surprise is that they’ve managed to procreate at all.”

“And yet we have found each other! What have I done to deserve such a reward?”

“Oh, nothing!” cried Mabel. “Nothing at all! Except live a life
of exemplary goodness, and give unstintingly of your time and energy, and grow year by year in wisdom and kindness, and so become the most respected man of your age.”

“Is that why God has given you to me?”

“I believe,” said Mabel, “that God created us for each other. I believe that I know God’s love through your love. All I ask is that I may be worthy of it.”

They lived in these months in a state of mutual exultation. Their preference for each other was apparent to everyone in the town, but David Todd made it clear that he regarded the friendship as innocent, and welcomed Austin Dickinson as his own friend. This more than anything silenced the malice of gossips. Why shouldn’t Mr. Dickinson put on his stylish coat and his wide-brimmed hat and take Mrs. Todd out driving in his carriage? Before Mrs. Todd had ever come to Amherst, Mrs. Tuckerman had been a favorite and had been taken on similar drives. Gentlemen were allowed to admire pretty young ladies. In this way a secret of sorts was kept.

Now that the Todds had a house of their own, the lovers had no more need of the Homestead for their secret liaisons. Vinnie complained to Austin that he neglected his sisters.

“Emily is not at all well, Austin. Her back hurts her, and she hardly sleeps at all. She thinks you no longer care for us.”

This last was an invention of Vinnie’s, but it had the desired effect. Austin called on Emily. He found her tired, but eager for news.

“Tell me about Mrs. Todd. I hear she’s a published author. Does she still brighten your life?”

Austin needed no further prompting.

“Mabel is . . . Mabel is . . . what is she not? She’s everything
to me! I want all the world to know! Instead we must hide and creep about and pretend. I can’t bear it, Em.”

“And Mrs. Todd, can she bear it?”

“She’s an angel. She spreads her beautiful wings and rises above the pettiness and spite.”

“Will you take her a poem from me?”

Austin carried the poem proudly to Mabel, and she received it with reverence. Here was further proof that her love for Austin was blessed by the Myth; and better still, that she was among the very few who were permitted to see her poems.

The poem began:

My River runs to thee—

Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me?

And ended:

Say—Sea—Take Me!

Austin called it charming, supposing it to be a nature poem. Mabel knew better.

“It’s about love,” she said. She trembled as she read it. “She must have loved to write like this.”

“If she has,” said Austin, “I’m not aware that she’s ever been loved in return. There was John Graves, when she was young, and later there was George Gould. But nothing came of it in either case.”

“You think nothing comes of love if it doesn’t lead to marriage.”

“Hardly,” said Austin. But then he became confused. He wanted to affirm the primacy of his unmarried love for Mabel, but at the
same time he wished with all his heart that the world could know her as his wife.

In October 1884, when the Todds were established in the Lessey house, Mabel’s parents came from Washington on an extended visit. Mabel invited her Amherst friends to a housewarming. She served chicken salad and cake, and decorated the house in her own original way, with golden leaves and yellow daisies and vines. Over seventy people came. The party was judged a brilliant success.

Shortly after this, Mabel’s mother, Mrs. Loomis, heard the rumors about her daughter and Mr. Dickinson.

“Mabel,” she said, “I do hope you’re taking care to preserve your reputation. A reputation once lost can’t be regained.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mama.”

“I’m talking about Mr. Dickinson.”

“Mr. Dickinson is a good friend to me, and to David. Why should he not be?”

“No, Mabel, that won’t do. People are saying that you go driving with him in byroads, and that he comes into your house by back ways, and that he stays with you late, after your husband has retired.”

“That’s enough, Mama! What are you accusing me of?”

“My darling, I know there’s no impropriety here. But there is the appearance of impropriety. You must be more careful of what you are seen to do, or people will start to believe you do much more.”

“People! Who are these people? They’re small-minded fools with no better way to fill their time!”

“I’m only telling you what I hear, Mabel. Think of Millicent. Do you want to expose her to this kind of gossip?”

“I do think of Millicent! And David! I’m a good mother, and a good wife! Am I not to be allowed a friend?”

She burst into tears.

Alone with Austin, finding comfort in his arms, she told him of the accusations her mother had made. Austin proved to be a pillar of strength.

“Is there anything in our love of which you’re ashamed?”

“Nothing!”

“Then what have we to fear? Our life together is as white and unspotted as the fresh-driven snow.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“We love one another. There may be others who don’t understand our love—who hold to the letter which killeth and not to the Spirit which giveth life—but that is the cross we must bear in this world. We know that we would give up our life for our love if necessary. There is no life for me without you.”

“No life for me without you,” Mabel repeated.

Then they said their prayer together.

“For my beloved is mine and I am his. What can we want beside? Nothing!”

For all the brave front they put on for each other, both knew they must be more careful in the future. From now on they met less frequently, and took care when together in public to make no great show of seeking each other out. Their liaisons at the Homestead continued, known only to Vinnie and Emily.

•  •  •

As Sue emerged from mourning, her hatred of Mabel came out into the open. When Mabel began singing in the quartet of the First Congregational Church choir, Sue stopped attending the weekly service. When Mabel was invited by the students of the college to be the matron of their annual dance, Sue forbade Mattie to go. She gave no reason for her actions but nor did she
conceal her motives. When Mabel walked into a room, Sue walked out.

Mabel begged Austin to do something to control his wife, but he was powerless. All they could do, he said, was wait for Sue to come to terms with reality. In the meantime a deep bitterness began to form within Mabel. She could see no end to the snubs and the slights. Amherst, she felt, was turning against her. Everywhere she went she believed she saw spying eyes and heard whispering tongues. When Caro Andrews came up with a plan to go on a trip to Europe and proposed taking Mabel with her, Mabel talked it over with both David and Austin, and gratefully accepted. She needed a break from small-town life.