Ivy Secrets (37 page)

Charlie picked up her plate and heaved it down the table. It cut through the air, missed her mother-in-law, and crashed at the window, spewing flecks of white fish and dark green slime all over the beige brocade drapes.

She pushed back her chair and fled from the room.

    Upstairs, Charlie knew it was over. She could no longer stand the pressure. Elizabeth had cracked her strength, shattered her spirit. It didn’t matter how many promises Charlie had made to Peter, or how much she and Peter loved each other. Elizabeth would never, ever change, and as long as the woman was alive, Charlie knew her life would be hell. Unless she got out.

She quickly packed a few bags, then went into the next room where Jenny was sleeping. She knew she could not go home. She could never tell her parents the vile things Elizabeth had said. She could never hurt them like that. They were too decent; they were too good. Superior to Elizabeth Hobart in every way.

“Despicable bitch,” she muttered as she bundled Jenny into her corduroy coat and hat.

Jenny rubbed her eyes. “Bitch?” she asked.

Charlie tied the strap under Jenny’s chin. “We’re going for a ride, sweetheart,” she said, trying to sound calm, trying to calm herself. “We’re going for a ride to visit someone who loves us very much. We’re going to visit Aunt Tess.”

As they hurried down the stairs and into the foyer, Charlie stopped.

Elizabeth stood there, her arms folded across the front of her stark, black dress, a viscid smirk on her face.

“Running away?” she asked.

Charlie clutched Jenny’s small hand for support. “I’m not running away. I’m running to a place where Jenny and I are both wanted.”

“Divorce can be such a messy thing.” Elizabeth sighed. “But often, it’s for the best.”

Charlie started to move forward.

“You do of course know,” Elizabeth continued, “that you’ll not get a dime.”

“I don’t want your money.”

Elizabeth nodded, ice coating her words. “I’ll remember that.”

    It was nearly midnight when the bus finally pulled into the Northampton station. Charlie hoisted a still-sleepy Jenny onto her hip, picked up her large bag, and trudged up the hill toward Round Hill Road. She prayed that Tess was home.

    “My God, look at you,” Tess cried when she opened the door and saw them. She swept Jenny into her arms and hugged her tightly against her chenille robe. “Charlie, she’s beautiful.”

Charlie nodded as she stepped into the living room. “And she’s such a good girl, Tess, she’s such a good little girl.…” She leaned against the mantel and started to cry. “Oh, Tess, nothing has worked. Nothing has worked.”

“God, girl, you’re a mess. Sit down. I’ll fix some tea.”

Charlie cried and sat and kept crying.

“Mama,” Jenny said, reaching from Tess’s arms toward Charlie.

“Hush,” Tess whispered in the little girl’s ear. “Auntie Tess is here. You’ll be all right now.”

Just then a small, furry puppy bounded in from the other room, yipping and wiggling.

Jenny cried, “Doggie!”

“This is Grover.” Tess bent so that Jenny could pet his head. “Grover, say hi to Jenny.”

Charlie watched Jenny squeal and giggle. How could Elizabeth be so heartless? If she didn’t like Charlie, that was one thing. But Jenny?

“What am I going to do, Tess?”

“I’ve no idea. You haven’t told me what happened.”

Charlie slowly related the events in Hobart Manor over the past two years.

“You should have called me sooner,” Tess said. “Maybe I could have helped.”

“Helped? How?”

“I could have taken Jenny. She would have been happy here.”

Charlie shook her head. “No, Tess. Jenny is my responsibility.”

“What about Peter? How does he feel?”

“He’s away again. Elizabeth has done her damnedest to keep him out of town on business.”

“Elizabeth Hobart,” Tess said with a shudder. “The ultimate bitch.”

Charlie nodded and tried to sip her tea. But the liquid stuck in her throat and floated back into her mouth. She closed her eyes and forced herself to swallow.

“Are you going to ask Peter for a divorce?”

Charlie shook her head. “I don’t know. Peter doesn’t understand why I can’t get along with Elizabeth. He doesn’t stick up for me. He’s under her thumb.”

“In order to get along with Elizabeth, that’s where you have to be. My guess is she doesn’t like you because you have a mind of your own.”

Charlie opened her eyes. “I hate to say it, Tess, but I’m worn out. I think divorce is the only answer. I think it’s the only way for me to get my sanity back.”

“You can stay here,” Tess said. “Both of you. It would be fun.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’d appreciate it if you’d let us stay a few days. Just until I can figure things out.”

“A few days, a few weeks. Stay as long as you like.”

    Peter phoned the next morning. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

Silence hung on the line. “Charlie, please come home. We can work things out. I’ll talk to Mother …”

“Peter, it won’t work. Your mother hates me.” She avoided saying that she hated her, too.

“There must be a way.”

“Not as long as we live in her house. If you want to stay married to me, Peter, we’ve got to leave Hobart Manor.”

After a pause, Peter said, “Please don’t ask me to do that, Charlie.”

“Then there’s only one solution.”

“What?” he asked hopefully.

“Shoot your mother,” Charlie said, and hung up the phone.

    Tess spent the days in her studio; Charlie offered to fix up the house. In the month since she’d been there, Charlie had repainted the porch, the bathroom, and the staircase leading to the attic room—Marina’s room—the room that Charlie now shared with Jenny.

“Time for wallpaper,” Charlie announced one afternoon when she returned from town.

“You know how to wallpaper?” Tess asked in surprise.

“It’s amazing the things you learn by living in a blue-collar family,” Charlie answered as she jockeyed wallpaper books from one hip to another and tried to ignore the queasiness in her stomach. Since coming to Northampton, Charlie hadn’t felt well. No matter how much physical work she did around the house, it seemed she was still filled with Elizabeth’s poison.

She opened a book to a page marked with a small strip of paper. “How about this for the kitchen?” She spread open the large book and showed Tess a print of ivy in shades of soft greens on a beige background.

“Ivy,” Tess said. “How appropriate. I’m surprised our rooms at Smith weren’t papered in this.”

Charlie frowned. “You don’t like it? I thought it would look real nice with some celery curtains. Especially if you ever get around to changing the counters to butcher block.”

Tess shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. If you feel like doing the work, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Horsie!” Jenny squealed as she grabbed Grover’s tail.

“After the kitchen I’ll tackle the living room,” Charlie
said. “I expect none of this paper has been changed in twenty years.”

“If it waited for me, it would be another twenty.”

Charlie set the book down on the kitchen table. “I really appreciate this, Tess. I really appreciate you letting Jenny and me stay here, and letting me kind of take over.”

“You can do whatever you want. Just don’t touch my studio.”

Charlie laughed. “I wouldn’t think of it. But it does help to be busy.”

“While you’re sorting things out.”

Charlie nodded.

Tess put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I think you should file for divorce,” she said. “No matter what the ice mother says, there’s no way Peter won’t support you and Jenny. There’s no way he can’t. You’re his wife, and Jenny is legally his daughter.”

Charlie’s nausea grew worse. “I know, Tess. But I never thought it would come to this. I guess I keep hoping that Peter will show up here with an apology, and with a way to make our marriage work. I’d hoped he cared more about me than about his mother.”

“I’m sure he does, Charlie. But Elizabeth is a master manipulator.”

Charlie shut the wallpaper book. “Did I tell you Peter’s brother is getting married?”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Is the girl from Pittsburgh?”

“Hardly. Her name is Ellen Barlow. Her family is loaded.”

“Does she curtsy to Elizabeth?”

Charlie laughed. “Practically. Hey, maybe that was my problem. In Pittsburgh, they never taught us how to curtsy.”

“You missed your chance. I’m sure you could have learned from Marina.”

“Curtsy, curtsy,” Jenny squealed from her playground on the floor.

Charlie looked at Tess. Their eyes held. “I wonder what Jenny would think if she knew …”

Tess pressed a finger to her lips. “Sssh. She may be our little princess, but no one else’s, remember?”

Charlie nodded. “Get to work. I’ll go get the paper ordered.”

Tess saluted and went out the back door. Charlie took a deep breath to quell her upset stomach. Then she bent down and scooped up Jenny. When she stood, the room started to spin. Her head felt light. Quickly, she leaned against the counter.

“Mama?” Jenny cried. “Sick?”

Charlie wiped her brow then smiled at Jenny. “Come on, little princess,” she said, “we’d better get you cleaned up and go back downtown.”

    Outside the wallpaper store, Charlie nearly fainted again. She steered the stroller off the sidewalk and rested on a park bench. On the way home, she stopped at an ambulatory clinic. Her suspicions were confirmed: She was two months pregnant.

Tess tried to talk Charlie out of going back to Peter. But Charlie had already phoned him, and he was on his way to Northampton. Now, as Charlie peered through the sheer living room drapes watching for Peter’s car, Tess realized that while part of her did, indeed, feel that Charlie was making a mistake, that things in Hobartville could only get worse for her friend, there was another part of Tess that still harbored old demons, that wanted Charlie away from Peter, because it just wasn’t fair. Charlie had the prince, the castle, and the beautiful child—a princess in her own right—and soon there would be another child, another person for Charlie to love, another person to love Charlie in return.

Tess, however, still had nothing but dreams.
She
was the one who had to work hard every day;
she
was the one who risked her inheritance, as she strived to become an accomplished artist, and everyone knew what happened to struggling artists. Yet Tess knew she would have given Jenny a warm, loving home, safe from the wrath of Elizabeth Hobart.

“I think you’ll regret this,” Tess warned her friend.

Charlie shook her head. “Don’t you see, Tess? Elizabeth will have to accept me now.”

“No, she won’t. She’ll probably accuse you of getting pregnant on purpose, so you’ll be assured a chunk of the Hobart pie.”

“I don’t care what she accuses me of. This baby is a Hobart, through and through. And it’s going to have everything it’s entitled to.”

“Including Elizabeth for a grandmother?”

Charlie paused, her gaze fixed on the street. “If that’s part of the package, so be it. Maybe I’ll be able to stand up to her better now. Maybe I’ll feel I have something to hold over
her
head—something she can’t discredit me for.”

Tess looked down at Jenny, who had fallen asleep on the small quilt Charlie had spread across the braided rug on the floor. The quilt was clean and bright, adorned with appliquéd bunnies and teddy bears. A Neiman Marcus original, no doubt, Tess thought. Proof, once again, that Charlie was the better mother for Jenny; the mother who could provide love and material things and, more importantly, a family.
I wonder
, Tess thought,
if I will ever get that through my thick head.

“Elizabeth will never accept Jenny,” Tess said. “She’ll probably be worse once your baby is born.”

“I can’t change the fact that Jenny is mine, Tess. I’m certainly not going to relinquish her to save my marriage. She’s just a child.”

“A beautiful child,” Tess said.

“It’s not going to be easy to go back,” Charlie said. “Not for me. And not for Jenny.”

Grover pranced in from the other room and went directly to the sleeping Jenny. He stuck his nose to her face; Jenny raised a pink, pudgy hand and brushed it away without waking. Grover studied her a moment, then laid down and snuggled against the tiny body.

“I think my dog is in love,” Tess said.

Charlie smiled down at Jenny and Grover. “I’d love to get Jenny a puppy, but Peter’s mother is allergic to dogs.”

“She’s allergic to people, too.”

Charlie closed her eyes. “Please, Tess, don’t make this any more difficult for me than it already is.”

Tess looked at Charlie, at the fine white scar that still etched Charlie’s brow, the permanent reminder of a hateful act. She wondered how Charlie could have been so forgiving. Even now, she was ready to forget the hideous things her mother-in-law had said.

Tess wondered if that could be why she was alone: if she were just too damned stubborn, too damned closed.