Finding Amy (3 page)

The man returned my handshake, but just nodded as his wife spoke.  “Mr. Lawrence, how do you do?”  But it was the kind of ‘how do you do’ that required no answer.  I could see why Amy was so afraid to stand up to them.  It would have been like a mouse standing up to lions.

Their home was elegant.  It looked like one of those houses featured in magazines - everything in its place and everything perfect.  I was shown to a guest bedroom by an elderly woman servant and told that as soon as I freshened up to come down to the dining room.  Amy had been spirited to her room by her mother.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked into a cavernous room with the warmth of a funeral parlor to find the Harringtons.  Her father sat at the head of a massive table; his wife was to his right and Amy to his left.

“Please be seated Mr. Lawrence.”  Her mother nodded to the table setting next to Amy.

As I took my chair, I smiled. “Please, call me Dan.”

At that point, a servant placed a bowl of a thin brown liquid in front of me.  Their servants were like automated robots.  We had a housekeeper and her husband was a terrific cook, but they were like family.  These servers were almost invisible.  The Harringtons seldom acknowledged them.  Hell, they hardly acknowledged me.

The dinner was perfect: soup, spinach salad, asparagus, skinless chicken, and fruit sorbet.  A little bland for me, but perfect nevertheless.  It was a quiet dinner.  Her mother updated Amy on the happenings of the people in their social circle.  Her father never said a word.  As we finished our sorbet, an uneasy silence set in.  We were all apparently uncomfortable anyway so I thought,
well buddy, it may as well start now.
  I reached over, took Amy’s hand and placed it under mine in full between our plates.  I saw her mother’s eyes widen ever so slightly as I began.

“Mr. Harrington, I came home with Amy to ask you and your wife a very important question.  I am asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“I see.”  Her mother stood up.  “Well, perhaps we should adjourn to the den to discuss this further.”  Ignoring me, she turned to her daughter, “Amy?”

Amy and her father followed her mother from the dining room.  I kept hold of Amy’s hand and followed.  The den was a warm room with books covering three of the walls while the fourth was a highly polished, heavy wood of some kind.  There was a desk and several sofas.  Several oriental rugs augmented the wall-to-wall carpeting.  There was a bar cut into the shelving on one wall.

Her father walked to the bar while Mrs. Harrington sat on a sofa.  Amy pulled me to the one across from her mother.

“Roger, I’ll take a sherry and Amy will have a Perrier.”  She focused her steel eyes on me.  “And you, Mr. Lawrence?”

I had the strongest urge to say make it a beer.  “I’ll have a Perrier also, thank you.”

Once the drinks had been poured and distributed, Mr. Harrington went to stand by the window.  Again I was the object of the steel eyes.

“Now.  Let’s discuss your proposal.”  Her eyes moved to Amy.  “What do you have to say about all this, young lady?”

Amy looked so bewildered and intimidated that I answered for her.  “Amy loves me and wants to marry me.”

“Mr. Lawrence, my daughter has a voice of her own.  I directed the question to her and meant for her to answer it herself.”  The woman’s eyes bore into Amy almost cruelly with a hint of mockery.  “Amy, do you want to marry this boy?”

I squeezed her hand.  It was limp and gave no response, but she began to speak.  “Mother, I … I … yes, I think I do”

“Amy darling, you are stuttering.  Is that a sign that you are unsure?”

Again I squeezed her hand.  This time she gently responded with a timid squeeze and her voice was stronger.

“Yes, mother.  I’m sure I want to marry Danny.”  She had said it!  I was so proud of her I wanted to pull her into my arms right then and there.

Her mother recoiled, but quickly rebounded with that steely-eyed glare.  Her father’s expression was bland and he uttered not a word.  Evidently Mrs. Harrington was going to handle the matter.  It should have been a warning, but I was too much in love to think about how that might impact my future.  From that point on, the conversation went from bad to worse and before the discussion was over her mother and I had gotten pretty hostile.  Her father never said a word.  Neither did Amy.

Finally, her mother relented.  “Very well, Amy.  We will let you marry this boy, but I’m very sorry that you didn’t listen to me.  You are making a bad mistake and will regret it for the rest of your life.”

At that moment, her father made his only comment on the matter.  He turned to his wife.  “Vanessa, why don’t you leave them alone?  Maybe things will work out better for them than they did for us.”

His words earned him a frosty stare from his wife.  He sighed, walked to the bar, poured himself a drink and wordlessly left the room.

Mrs. Harrington, Amy and I settled on a wedding date and made some sketchy plans.  The old girl was formidable.  She had an opinion on everything.  It was apparent; she would run the wedding.  Eventually, she excused herself saying she needed to retire to her office to work out a definite schedule.

I asked Amy if she would like to go out for a breath of fresh air.  She said she was exhausted and would like to go to bed.  I walked her to her room and kissed her ever so lightly before she slipped away and closed her door.  I walked down to my room, kicked off my shoes and flopped down on the bed.  I crossed my hands behind my head and attempted to sort things out.  It was a damn good think I had gone home with her.  She would never have made it alone.

Her mother was a real piece of work.  And her father was … was …   What the hell was he?  No cojones, that’s for sure.  Well, the sooner I got Amy away from here the better.  I had told her mother that we wanted to be married within the month and I stood firm on that issue.  I wanted to get her out to Texas and away from these strange people as soon as possible.  I fell off to sleep thinking how happy I was going to make Amy.

*****

The next morning didn’t improve my relationship with her mother.  By the time I came down for breakfast, she had already been on the phone making all sorts of plans.  Amy had been hustled off to a bridal shop.  I could see it was going to be a big wedding.  I didn’t care as long as it made Amy happy.  But, for the next month, I didn’t see enough of her to know if she was happy or not.  Her mother had her doing something every breathing moment of the day and night.

When I complained, Mrs. Harrington crisply told me, “I asked for more time, but you were the one who insisted it had to happen within one month.  We are having to rush on your behalf.  You’ll just have to be patient.”

I did get angry once.  It was a little more than a week before the wedding and I had been in the den watching the Red Sox losing to the Texas Rangers when I heard Amy’s voice in the foyer.  She and her mother had been out all afternoon.  I wandered out to greet her.

“Amy, I hope you listened carefully to what the doctor said and take those pills religiously.”

“What pills?”  I asked.

Amy’s glance in my direction was furtive.  She looked back at her mother, then me again, but she didn’t answer my question.

I stared back and forth between the women.  “What pills?  Amy is anything wrong?  Are you okay?”  I hurried to her side and slid my arm around her shoulder.  She stiffened, but stayed in my embrace.  “What, honey?”

She swallowed and looked to her mother.  The old bat was laying her hat and gloves on a table; she turned her icy eyes on me.  “We got Amy some birth control pills today.”

“Birth control?  Whatever for?”

“I believe the answer to that is obvious.”

“Not to me it isn’t.”  I looked down at Amy.  “Honey, don’t you want children?”  I was almost afraid to hear her answer.  “My children, our children?”

“Of course, Danny.  But, mother says we should wait awhile.  Not to rush into things.  She knows a lot more about having babies and feels …”

“I feel Amy needs to be a little older before she decides to endure the pain and distress of bearing a child.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Harrington,” I pulled Amy closer, “this is a personal matter between a husband and wife.  I don’t want Amy to prevent children.  That’s one reason for getting married.  I want us to have a family.”

“I happen to know a great deal more about child bearing than either of you and I don’t intend to have my daughter suffer like I did.  It will be a big adjustment for her to be with a man, let alone throw a baby into the mix.”

“Mrs. Harrington, children are wonderful.  You should see my brother Phil and his wife Pat with their two boys.  Amy and I will work this out, right honey?”  I pulled her chin up to look into her eyes.

“Mother only means to help.  Let’s don’t argue, Danny.  Can’t we talk about it later?”  Her eyes pleaded with me to drop the subject.  I reluctantly nodded as she went on.  “Right now, I’m exhausted.  I need to rest.”  She slipped out of my embrace and started up the stairs.  “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Her mother and I watched her until she was out of sight, then faced each other.

“See, you’ve upset her.  When will you learn that she is delicate?”  She didn’t wait for my answer, but turned and headed for the kitchen area to check on dinner.

I ran my fingers through my hair.  I headed out the front door, badly in need of some fresh air.

*****

The only wedding planning I did was to call my folks and make arrangements for them to come to Boston.  As it turned out, Phil and Pat were between kids and said they wouldn’t miss my wedding for the world.  Tom was a lifesaver.  He arrived a week before the wedding and we took a room at a local hotel.  I wasn’t seeing much of Amy anyway, and I needed to get away from her mother.

When my folks arrived two days before the wedding, Amy had been reluctant to go with me to the airport to meet them.  She was nervous as a cat treed by a coyote as we stood waiting at the arrival gate.  I held her close and assured her that she would love them as they would her.  My folks were great.  Mom and Pat raved about her beauty and how glad they were to be getting another Lawrence woman in the family.  Pat said she and mom always got outvoted because it was four Lawrence men to only two women when the men wanted to go fishing or hunting.  She was laughing though, as she and Phil cuddled and enjoyed their mini holiday away from the kids.  We got the folks settled at the hotel and dined with them before I took Amy back to her house.

When we were alone in the taxi, I hugged her close and asked why she was so tense.  To my surprise and delight, she cuddled into my arms like when we were in Texas.

“Nothing.  I guess I’m just tired.”

I smiled.  “Only two more days.  Then we can relax and enjoy each other.”  I kissed her and was again surprise at her response.  Her kiss was desperate as she clung to me.  I enjoyed it and let her release her pent-up tension.  By the time we got to the Harrington home, Amy was the calmist I’d seen her since arriving in Boston a month ago.  She was warm and responsive as we kissed and hugged at her front door.

“I love you Amy.”

She smiled.  “I’m so glad you do.”  She uncharacteristically stroked my cheek and chin, lightly kissed my lips and slipped into the house.

My dreams that night were the sweetest since we met.  I was now more certain than ever that we belonged together and everything would be fine.

*****

The Harringtons hosted an elaborate rehearsal dinner and everything went off without a hitch.  My folks were great through the whole thing.  My dad did corner me once and asked if I was happy.  I told him yes or rather I would be as soon as the wedding was over and I had Amy back home in Texas.

The next day, as I stood at the altar waiting for Amy, I scanned the crowded pews.  We had a lot of friends back in Texas, but they didn’t come to a drop in the bucket compared to the size of this gathering.  Apparently, the entire city of Boston, at least the elite portion of it, had shown up.  I glanced to my right at the maid of honor and bridesmaids, all eight of them.  To my left were the ushers and I smiled at the only one I knew, my best man, my brother Tom.  He gave me a quick wink of encouragement.    The majority of the attendants represented another generation of Bostonians with social prominence.  Amy said that she had attended boarding school with most of the girls, but they weren’t really friends.

The first bars of the wedding march rang out from the massive organ in the balcony and Amy appeared clutching her father’s arm.  She resembled my childhood imagination of what an angel would look like in her flowing white dress. There was a mystical aura about her and I felt like I was dreaming.

When they reached the altar, her father lifted the veil and stroked her cheek for a moment before kissing her forehead.  He turned to me.  I was shocked to see tears threaten as he put her hand in mine.  His grip was firm as he whispered, “I’m so happy she found you.”  He turned abruptly and took his place next to his wife.  I noticed that his eyes had cleared and his characteristic, disinterested expression had returned.

For all the preparation, the actual wedding ceremony took only moments.  My only clear memory is looking into Amy’s eyes and hearing her soft voice say, “I do.”