Fortune's Hand (8 page)

“You? A weakling? You just have a big, soft heart. Other guys break off all the time without any agony. You've got to harden your heart and do it. Get it over with.”

“I'd rather have all my teeth pulled.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Thanks, it would look queer, and it's queer enough already.”

“I'll lend you my car.”

“Eddy … When I walk in there, I won't know how to behave.”

Eddy shook his head sadly. “That sounds strange, coming from the man I hear in moot court.”

“This is awfully different. I'm not even sure that I should phone first that I'm coming, or else simply surprise her.”

“Phone first. That'll give her half a notice that your business is serious, nothing to scare her, but enough for her to expect something important. Do it. Do it Sunday, and no fooling around.”

Eddy's expensive new car rolled smoothly down the interstate past the fatal spot where the truck had hit and changed the course of Robb's life, and turned a few miles beyond it onto the service road that had been there before the interstate was built. His destination was looming up too fast. For all his rehearsals, he still was not sure how he would begin.

The service road diverged like a branch from a tree trunk into the two-lane blacktop road that led to Marchfield. On either side, like twigs from the branch, dirt lanes with grass between the ruts led to farmhouses invisible from the road. It seemed to Robb that he had lived here in another age, although it was only three
years since he had left, and he had thought—or thought he thought—that he was content.

A moccasin slid across the road in front of him, raised its evil head for a second, and disappeared into the underbrush. An ominous portent, he thought, and reprimanded himself. Fool! The snake was there because there was a swamp nearby.

Three miles to Marchfield. He lightened pressure on the gas pedal. Please, God, help me to do this right and get it over with. He entered the town. Christmas had come to Main Street with lights strung across its width, Santa Claus and tinsel garlands in shop windows. On a side street past the center, he stopped the car at the familiar yellow wooden house with the sign beside the door:
DRESSMAKING AND ALTERATIONS
.

He prayed that Mrs. Webster might not be home. But of course she would be. Very likely she would have a hearty lunch prepared for him. The front room would be festive, with the Christmas tree already up and decorated.

Lily opened the door. She put her arms around him and kissed him, after which Mrs. Webster offered him her cheek. He was sure that his face must be wine red.

“Well, this is a surprise, or almost a surprise,” Lily said.

The remark was brightly spoken, yet he saw a faint anxiety in her expression. Eddy had been correct; she was partially prepared for something worrisome, but trying not to show it. Possibly she was expecting him to say he was not feeling well, or was not yet settled in a job, although that, given his record, would be unlikely.

Ineptly, he replied that he had borrowed a car, and it was certainly a pleasure compared with the bus. Following this statement, he made a few remarks about last month's election and the unseasonable weather. At that point, Mrs. Webster tactfully withdrew, taking her sewing into her bedroom so that the lovers might rush to embrace without an audience.

Before Robb's eyes was the little dining ell, where the table was already set with a white lace-edged cloth and a pot of poinsettias in the center. There was nothing in the sight to suggest any words with which to start the conversation.

“You're feeling better than you did the last time, I hope,” Lily said. “I was worried about you.”

“Well, yes and no. I've been having some problems getting placed. It's not as easy to find the right job as I thought it would be.”

“With a record like yours? I'm surprised.”

“I've had some nice offers, but they've all been corporation law, not what I've wanted to do with my life. Well, you've heard me often enough on that subject. The Chicago firm that looked so good has some drawbacks too complicated to describe, and New York is awfully competitive and expensive to live in, so I've been looking around, making inquiries, asking advice—”

He stopped because she was staring at him, and the intensity of the stare almost threw him off the track of his thoughts. But he continued.

“Puts the schedule, the plans, all out of whack. It's very upsetting.”

Ease into it, he was thinking. Don't throw the truth into her face. Aim for delay and then, gradually, of course the truth must come out. That's why you're here. Only, not all at once.

His face burned so and his heart raced so that he was beginning to feel overcome. A crazy impulse took hold:
Say you're sick, rush out of here, say you'll come back later—

“The wedding plans, do you mean?” she asked.

Between her parted lips her even teeth were neat and small like all her bones, like her. He realized that he was seeing her as a stranger might see her: a young woman, almost childishly young, and touching in her naivete.

The air was heavy with the sickening heat and the scent of the fir tree. Its glitter made him dizzy. His rapid heartbeat throbbed in his ears. If only she would take her eyes away from his face! And he had to turn away from them, to lean down and tighten his shoelace before he was able to murmur a response.

“Why yes, that's why I've come. It seemed … that there were things we ought to talk about.”

“Things? I don't understand. What are they?”

“Well, not being too hasty with things—”

“Hasty? What on earth are you talking about?”

“You see, I don't think either of us ever had enough experience, ever really has known any other people, so that I thought, now that we're older—” Oh Lord, how I'm stumbling! “We can examine things frankly and—”

“Things! Will you please stop blathering on about ‘things'?” Lily stood up. “You're saying, if I understood
you, that you want to postpone the wedding. Or do I not understand you?”

“Well yes, but—”

“Are you telling me,” she cried shrilly, “that you don't love me anymore? Is that it?”

“No, no. I love you very much, Lily. You are one of the best people in the world—No, sit down. Let's talk calmly.”

“I'll be calm if you'll get to the point. This stuff about not having known other people—what's that? Are you trying to get rid of me?

“ ‘Get rid' is an awful expression, all wrong! I only meant that for a lifetime commitment you should be perfectly sure, without any doubts, without—”

Her eyes blazed. “Doubts!
Now
you talk of doubts? What is this,
An American Tragedy
, where he drowns the girl?”

“That's crazy, Lily. Let me explain. Please listen to me—”

“Then speak up, for God's sake! For God's sake!”

In a minute her mother would come running in. And Lily was losing control. He put his hand on her shoulder, saying gently, “Lily, please, dear—”

“Don't touch me! You have someone else! Yes, of course you have. That's why you treated me so coolly, you—”

“Let's talk quietly—you don't understand—”

“I understand, oh I do! Then tell me you haven't got another woman. Swear you haven't, and I'll understand. Go on, say it!”

He was stricken. It was as if he had accidentally run
over someone and killed him. And he stood there, unable to speak. The silence, the very air, trembled.

“Who is she?”

Those eyes, those terrible, wild, piteous eyes! And not really knowing what he was going to say, he began, “It's not exactly what—”

“It's that girl who rang the doorbell, isn't it? The girl who said she came by mistake.”

“It was a mistake. It was, Lily. Believe me.”

“I saw her standing under the hall light! Tall, with black, curly hair. I thought you looked scared and then afterward I told myself that was ridiculous. But you
were
scared and you
were
lying,” she sobbed. “You're lying to me now! This isn't about postponing the wedding. It's about calling it off. It's about that girl.”

He started to protest. Then it struck him forcefully that he had, after all, come to make an honorable, clean breast of the whole business, and must not delay.

So he corrected himself, expelling the words as though they burned his mouth. “Yes, it's true. But I never meant—God help me, I never meant—”

With a fearful outcry Lily flung herself upon him; her small, frenzied fists beat him. She was shoving him toward the front door. She was going mad.

“Get out! You're a monster! A monster! Get out of my house!”

Mrs. Webster, with interrupted sewing in hand, rushed in. “What's all this? What's happening here?”

“Mother, put him out, I can't bear—” And Lily fell back upon the sofa with her hands over her face.

On the front steps, with the door shut behind them,
Robb confronted Mrs. Webster, the woman whom with a touch of affection he had secretly named “the iron lady.”

“Now suppose you explain, Robb!” she demanded.

He had a dark pre-vision. This moment would live forever; Lily's hysterical sobbing; her mother's stern, ageing face; the Scottish plaid fabric dangling on her arm; the horror.

“We were talking about things, marriage, the enormous responsibility and being certain and—”

“You were, were you?” Mrs. Webster drew herself up tall. “Who is she, Robb?”

“I don't understand,” he began, but was interrupted.

“You understand very well, I think. No man leaves a marriage, and you two have practically been married for seven years, without there being a new woman in the picture. Don't waste time, Robb. Speak out. I'm way ahead of you.”

“I feel sick,” he said. “I don't know how to explain what happened. I beg you to understand if you can, and to help Lily understand. It's—it's crazy.” He faltered. “Crazy, when I care so deeply about Lily. But I met this—this other—and oh my God I've tried, I've suffered so much over it—”

Mrs. Webster exploded. “
You
have suffered?
You?
Oh, it's as clear as the nose on your handsome face. I said all along it was a big mistake when you went off to school and left her behind! And don't think I haven't noticed that you've been acting rather strangely these last months. Lily must have seen it, too, but she's too loyal to say so. She's not stupid, though, and neither am
I. I see it all. Got what you wanted out of her, didn't you? A decent young girl, no risk for you, very convenient, hey?”

Heat stung all through Robb's body. Sex was the crude, unmistakable meaning. That he had used Lily, she meant. A clean, safe outlet for his need. It was shameful.

“I always thought, I even said once to Lily, that you're too good-looking to be trusted. What kind of slut have you picked up anyway, now that you've discarded my daughter? I'd like to get my hands on her for two minutes. Just let me find out who she is.”

“Mrs. Webster, please, she's terribly distressed about this. It's not her doing. She's a good person from a good home like yours. Her father's a lawyer—”

“A lawyer! How nice for you! You bastard!” Mad with her justifiable rage, Mrs. Webster was using language that perhaps through all her prim life she had used only in the silence of her mind.

“Mrs. Webster, can't we—”

“No, we can't, you devil. Get out. Now. Go to your woman and rot. Go, I said, or I'll push you down the stairs.”

He fled. For a while he sat in the car and looked up at the house where the two women were locked between her mother's fury and Lily's agony. The lunch so lovingly prepared for him would go uneaten, while the little Christmas tree sparkled in pathetic splendor. And on the sidewalk people jogged and greeted and carried bundles as if this were any ordinary day.

What had he done to Lily Webster? What would she
do when she awoke tomorrow morning and remembered that her life had turned suddenly upside down?

He started the car and drove slowly away from Marchfield. When he had gone a few miles, he stopped and was sick at the side of the road. Then he got in the car again and drove away to the city.

The sofa pillow was soaked with her tears. They had exhausted her body. When they stopped, dry sobs like hiccups took her breath.

“Lily—open your eyes. Sit up, Lily dear, he's not worth it.”

Her mother's voice was close by. When she looked up her mother was standing over her. For however long she had been lying here like this, her mother must have been hovering with that anxious, frightened look on her face.

She could be an annoyance sometimes with her nagging counsel and inquisitive questions, but you could always trust her.
She
would never lie to you! Never desert you, never say,
Well, I've found another daughter, I'm sorry, it just happened. I didn't mean
—And thinking so, the tears began again.

“Honey, you'll ruin your eyes. They're all swollen. I'll get a towel and some ice cubes.”

The kindness only made worse the awful, incredible reality. An hour ago, a year ago, a second ago—how long was it that he had stood there? Yes, right in that spot, wearing a red-striped muffler around his neck, stumbling over his words, he had stood, not looking at her but at some vague place in midair, and spoken.

“Yes, it's true but I never meant—”

It's true.… Never meant. It's true. Never meant
.

She sprang up and ran to the closet in the hall where the Christmas boxes were stowed, and she hauled them, thumping, onto the floor.

“Lily! What can you be doing? For heaven's sake, what are you doing with the scissors!”

“I'm not killing myself with them. Although I might as well. I'm only ripping this stuff apart.”