No Greater Love (20 page)

“Can we still be friends?”

Tears filled her eyes and she smiled as she nodded. “Of course we can.” She got up and put her arms around him. He was her best friend, her dearest friend, not just her father’s friend now. “I couldn’t manage without you.”

“You seem to be doing just fine,” he said wryly, but at the same time he pulled her close, and held her fast for a moment. He didn’t try to kiss her, or argue with her anymore. He was grateful not to have lost her affection and her friendship, and maybe it was just as well he had spoken up after all. Maybe it was better to know where he stood, and how she felt. But he still had a heavy heart when he left her that night, and he turned to look back at her as he got in his car, and he waved, and drove away, wishing that things could have been different.

The telegram came from Aunt Liz the next day. Uncle Rupert had died on the anniversary of Kate and Bert’s death. And Edwina was subdued when she told the children at dinner. She was quiet all day, thinking of what Ben had said the night before. And she was still touched, but she was sure she had made the right decision.

The children weren’t overly distraught at Edwina’s news from Aunt Liz, and Phillip helped compose a telegram to her shortly after dinner. They assured her of their prayers and warmest thoughts, but Edwina made a point of not saying that they hoped their aunt would visit soon. She decided that she really couldn’t bear it. Her visit three months before had left them all far too shaken.

Edwina contemplated going into mourning again, and then decided it didn’t make sense for an uncle they barely knew and had never been very fond of. She wore gray for a week, and then went back to wearing the colors she had found again only days before, the colors
she hadn’t worn since the previous April. She even wore Ben’s beautiful blue cashmere shawl, and she saw him almost as often as before, although not quite. He seemed a little bit more careful of her now, and faintly embarrassed, although she always acted as though nothing had happened between them. And the children weren’t aware of it at all, although once or twice, she thought she saw Phillip staring at them, but there was nothing he could detect except an old, well-worn friendship.

In May, Edwina went out for the first time. She accepted an invitation to a dinner party from old friends of her parents’, and she felt awkward when she went, but she was surprised to discover that she had a very pleasant evening. The only thing she didn’t like was that she somehow suspected that she had been invited to entertain their son, and the second time they invited her she was certain. He was a handsome young man of twenty-four, with a large fortune and a small mind, and a wonderful estate near Santa Barbara. But he was of no interest to her, nor were the other young men she suddenly found herself paired off with whenever she accepted invitations from her parents’ friends. Her own friends all seemed to be married now, and most of them were busy having babies, and spending too much time with them only reminded her of Charles, and the life they would never share, and it never failed to depress her. It was easier being with her parents’ friends. In some ways, she had more in common with them since she was bringing up children of the same ages as theirs, and she found it easier to be viewed without the added tension of sexual interest. She had no interest whatsoever in young men, and she made it clear to all of them when, eventually, they pressed her. She continued to wear her engagement ring and to think of herself as still belonging to Charles. She didn’t want anything more
than her memories of him, and her busy life with her brothers and sisters. And in the end, it was a relief when they left the city and went to Lake Tahoe in August. It was a special summer for them. Phillip had been accepted at Harvard months before, and he would be leaving them for Cambridge in early September. It was hard to believe he’d be gone, and Edwina knew that they would all feel his absence, but she was happy for him that he was going. He had offered to stay home with her, to help her manage the little ones and the exuberant George, and Edwina had refused to even discuss it. He was going, and that was that, she announced. And then she packed the entire family up, and they boarded the train for Lake Tahoe.

And once they were there, on a moonlit night, Phillip finally dared to ask her the question. He had been wondering for a while, and more than once, he had gotten seriously worried about it.

“Were you ever in love with Ben?” he finally whispered.

She was startled not only by what he asked, but by the way he looked when he asked it. It was a look that said Edwina belonged to him, and the others, and she suddenly wasn’t quite sure what to answer.

“No.”

“Was he in love with you?”

“I don’t think that’s very important.” Edwina spoke softly. The poor boy really looked worried.

But he had nothing to fear and she smiled as she reassured him. She took a deep breath, thinking of the wedding veil hidden in her closet. “I’m still in love with Charles …” And then a whisper in the dark, “… Perhaps I always will be….”

“I’m glad,” and then he flushed guiltily. “I mean … I didn’t mean …”

But Edwina smiled at him. “Yes, you did.” She belonged
to them … they owned her now … they didn’t want her marrying anyone. She was theirs. For better or worse, until the day she died, or her services were no longer needed. She accepted that, and in a way she loved them for it.

It was odd, she thought to herself, her parents had a right to have each other, but the children felt that she should love only them. She owed the children everything, even in the eyes of Phillip. He had the right to go away to school, as long as she stayed there, waiting for him, and caring for the others.

“Would it make a difference if I did love him? It wouldn’t mean I love you less,” she tried to explain, but he looked hurt, as though she had betrayed him.

“But do you?”

She smiled again, and shook her head, reaching up to kiss him. He was still a boy, she realized, whether or not he was going to Harvard. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll always be here.” It was what she had said to all of them, ever since her mother died. “I love you … don’t worry … I will always be here …”

“Good night, Phillip,” she whispered, as they walked back to their cabins, and with an easy smile he looked at her, relieved by what she’d said. He loved her more than anything. They all did. She was theirs now, just as their parents had been. And she had them … and she had a wedding veil she would never use, hidden on a shelf … and Charles’s engagement ring, still sparkling on her finger.

“Good night, Edwina,” he whispered, and she smiled and closed her door, trying to remember if life had ever been different.

THE TRAIN STOOD IN THE STATION WITH ALL OF THE WINFIELDS
standing in Phillip’s compartment. Ben had come too, and Mrs. Barnes, and a handful of Phillip’s friends, and two of his favorite teachers. It was a big day for him. He was leaving for Harvard.

“You’ll write, won’t you?” Edwina felt like a mother hen, and then asked him in an undertone if he had all his money hidden in the money belt she’d given him. He grinned and ruffled her elegant hairdo. “Stop that!” she scolded, as he went to talk to two of his friends, and she chatted with Ben, and tried to keep George from climbing out the window. She couldn’t see Alexis then, and a faint wave of panic rose in her, remembering another time when Alexis had disappeared, but a moment later she saw her with Mrs. Barnes, staring sadly at the brother who was about to leave them. Fannie had cried copiously the night before, and at three and a half even Teddy knew he was being deserted.

“Can I come too?” he asked hopefully, but Phillip only shook his head and gave him a ride on his shoulders. He could touch the ceiling in the compartment then, and he chortled happily as Edwina pulled Fannie closer to her. They were all sad to realize that the group at home was shrinking. To Edwina, it felt like the beginning of the end, but that morning, she had reminded Phillip of how proud their father would have been, it was an important moment in his life, and one he should always be proud of.

“You’ll never be quite the same,” she had tried to explain to him, but he didn’t yet understand what she meant. “The world will grow, and you’ll see us differently when you come home. We’ll seem very small to you, and very provincial.” She was wise for her years, and the long talks she’d had with her father for years had given her a perspective that was rare for a woman. It was something Charles had loved about her from the first, and something Ben admired greatly. “I’ll miss you terribly,” she said to Phillip again, but she had promised herself not to cry and make it harder for him. More than once, he’d offered not to go at all, and to stay and help her with the children. But she wanted him to have this opportunity. He needed it, he had a right to it, just as their father had, and his father before him.

“Good luck, son.” Ben shook his hand as the conductor began calling, “All aboard.” And Edwina felt her heart fill with tears, as he called good-bye to his friends, shook hands with his teachers, and then turned to kiss the children.

“Be good,” he said soberly to little Fannie, “be a good girl, and listen to Edwina.”

“I will,” she said seriously, two big tears rolling down her cheeks. For over a year, he had been like a father to her, not just an older brother. “Please come back
soon …” At five and a half, she had lost two teeth, and she had the biggest eyes Edwina had ever seen. She was a sweet child and all she wanted in life was to stay close to home, and her brothers and sisters. She talked about wanting to be a mama one day, and nothing more. She wanted to cook and sew, and have “fourteen children.” But what she really wanted was to be safe, and cozy and secure forever.

“I’ll come back soon, Fannie … I promise …” He kissed her again, and then turned to Alexis. There were no words between those two. There didn’t need to be. He knew only too well how much she loved him. She was the little ghost who slipped in and out of his room, who brought him cookies and milk on silent feet when he was studying late, who divided everything she had with him, just because she loved him. “Take care, Lexie … I love you … I’ll be back, I promise …” But they all knew that to Alexis, those promises meant nothing. She still stood in her parents’ room sometimes, as though she still expected to see them. She was seven now, and for her the pain of losing them was as great as it had been a year before. And now losing Phillip was a blow Edwina feared would truly shake her far more than it would the others.

“And you, Teddy Bear, be a good boy, don’t eat too many chocolates.” He had eaten a whole box of them the week before, and gotten a terrible stomachache, and he laughed guiltily now, as Phillip carefully lifted him off his shoulders.

“Get out of here, you rotten kid,” he said with a grin to George, as the conductor called, “Allllllll aboooarrrrddd” for the last time, and waved them off the train. Edwina scarcely had time to hold him close and look at him for a last time.

“I love you, sweet boy. Come home soon … and
love every minute of it. We’ll all be here forever, but this is your time …”

“Thank you, Winnie … thank you for letting me go … I’ll come home if you need me.” There were tears in her eyes and she nodded then, barely able to answer.

“I know …” She clutched him one more time, and it reminded her too much of the good-byes they’d never had time to say on the ship, the good-byes they should have said and didn’t. “I love you …” She was crying as Ben helped her off, and he had an arm around her shoulders, to comfort her, as the train pulled out of the station. They saw Phillip waving his handkerchief for a long, long time, and Fannie and Alexis cried all the way home, the one in loud, gulping sobs of grief, the other in silent furrows of tears that rolled down her cheeks and tore through her heart and Edwina’s when she watched her. None of them were good at grief, none were impervious to pain, and none were happy at the thought of Phillip leaving.

The house was like a tomb once he was gone. Ben left them at their front gate, and Edwina walked them all inside with a look of sorrow. It was hard to imagine life without him.

Fannie helped her set the table that night, while Alexis sat quietly, staring out the window. She said not a word to anyone. She only sat there, thinking of Phillip. And George took Teddy out to the garden to play, until Edwina called them in. It was a quiet group that night, as she served them their favorite roasted chicken. And it was odd now, she never thought of taking her mother’s place. It no longer occurred to her. After a year and a half, it seemed as though this was what she had always done. At twenty-two, she was a woman with five children. But the void Phillip had left reminded her now of a ne’er-to-be-forgotten pain, and they were all quiet as she said grace, and asked George to carve the chicken.

“You’re the man of the house now,” she said, hoping to impress him, as he pierced the roasted bird straight through and lopped the wing off as though using a dagger. At thirteen, he had neither matured nor lost his passion for mischief and what he considered humor. “Thank you, George, if you’re going to do that, I’ll do it myself.”

“Come on, Edwina …” He lopped off another wing, and both legs, like a mercenary carving up the spoils, as chicken gravy splashed everywhere and the children laughed, and suddenly in spite of herself, Edwina was laughing too, until tears came to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She tried to force herself to be serious and reproach him, but she found that she couldn’t.

“George, stop it!” He whacked the carcass in half and handled the knife like a spear. “Stop it!… you’re awful …” she scolded, and he bowed low then, handed her her plate, and sat down with a happy grin.

It was certainly going to be different having him underfoot as the oldest child, instead of the far more dignified, responsible Phillip. But George was George, an entirely different character than his brother.

“After dinner, let’s write a letter to Phillip,” Fannie suggested in a serious voice, and Teddy agreed. And Edwina turned to say something to George just in time to see him flinging peas at Alexis. And before Edwina could say anything, two of the peas hit Alexis on the nose and she exploded into laughter.