Seasons of the Heart (17 page)

Phillip nodded, uncertain how to press his case further. If he couldn’t win an argument with his only real friend, how could he take on hostile counsel?

“All right,” Kenny said when Phillip didn’t reply. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

It was a dismissal and Phillip turned and left without speaking. It never occurred to him that Kenny subconsciously might not have wanted him to succeed. Kenny still remembered envying his friend’s background in high school, his startling good looks, his quick brilliance, even the fact he was a war hero. Now, though Kenny didn’t realize it, he tended to block Phillip’s progress in the firm, and since the other partners knew the two were lifelong friends, if Kenny said Coulter wasn’t ready for a promotion, they continued to hire from the outside.

Each time Phillip accepted the decision, but after another eighteen months, he confronted Kenny again.

“Kenny, when you hired me, very frankly I was just happy to be working again, and the salary was unimportant. Lately, though, I’m having a harder and harder time getting along on my paycheck. Even more, I feel I’m ready for more responsibility. I’m capable of more. I want to be considered for an associate’s position, at least.”

Kenny hadn’t expected Phillip to put it to him so bluntly.

“Well, it’s not that your name hasn’t come under consideration, Phil …”

“You mean that I’ve been considered and rejected? Would you mind very much telling me why?”

“Phil, litigation is our specialty, and all of our associates have to be able to perform well in open court. I don’t want to upset you, but quite frankly no one feels you’re quite ready for that.”

“How can anyone tell what I’m capable of? You’ve never let me go into court at all, not even on the most minor matter. I couldn’t be more under-challenged.”

Kenny regarded him kindly. “Phil. This is between friends?”

“Of course.”

“Phil, I’ve seen you when you’re tired or under stress. Your limp is more noticeable. Your face shows the strain. For God’s sake, look at your hand—it’s shaking.”

Phillip looked down. Was his hand shaking? He hadn’t noticed it. But it was true that his limp worsened when he was tired. Once again, he felt helpless to protest that he was perfectly fine. He obviously didn’t look it, and appearances were what counted in a courtroom.

“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll accept that verdict for the time being. But I’d like to go on record as saying that I can’t go on indefinitely like this.”

“If you feel you can find another place where you’ll be happier …”

A moment of panic struck Phillip. He couldn’t afford to go without even one paycheck, and if he looked as bad as Kenny seemed to imply, he might not find anything else.

“I wasn’t threatening to quit, Kenny,” he said quickly.

Kenny idly toyed with a paper on his desk. “I’ll tell you what, Phil. Let me see if I can’t get you a raise. Perhaps that will help.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

In the weeks that followed, Phillip tried not to let Kenny’s opinion get to him, but doubts started to haunt him. He found it harder to be enthusiastic about his assignments and he no longer volunteered for extra work.

Ann was happy to find him on time for dinner and was not concerned about his salary. She assumed that all lawyers were underpaid until they made partner. She refused to even consider the possibility that Phillip might fail. In fact, the only cloud on the horizon that she saw was Eva’s failing health. Each week Eva seemed to fade a little more. Simon and Ann did everything they could to tempt her to eat and to distract her during the long days. Ann had given up her part-time job and devoted herself to Eva’s comfort, but as the holidays rolled around, Eva became less and less responsive, until one January morning she slipped into a coma. By the time Phillip could race home from the office, she had died.

Ann could not believe how much she would miss her mother-in-law. The years of worry during the war had brought them closer than most real mothers and daughters. Now she felt almost as bereft as Simon. Phillip at least had his work, but Ann and Simon found their days had lost their focus.

Ann was so upset that she didn’t notice that her period was late by nearly two months. For another three weeks she was so afraid she might not be pregnant that she postponed calling the doctor. When she finally went in and had the test, she practically held her breath until he called her with the news.

“No, Mrs. Coulter, there’s no mistake about it. You’re going to have a baby. In September, I’d say.”

Ann’s joy was shadowed only by the fact that Eva was not there to share it. This was the miracle for which they had both prayed. Ann could hardly wait for Phillip to come home.

When he opened the door that night, she flew into his arms.

“Heavens, did I forget something?” Phillip laughed. “A birthday? An anniversary, perhaps?”

“A birthday in September. Oh, Phillip, we’re going to have a baby.”

Ann had not seen Phillip so unreservedly happy since the early days of their marriage. Even Simon lost the sad, drawn look his face had worn since Eva’s death.

Phillip now worked with renewed ambition, while Ann and Simon spent their days readying the apartment for the child.

On September 6, 1949, Ann gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Eva Louise, but she almost immediately became Evie. Simon wept unashamedly at the sight of the baby. It was as though his beloved Eva had been reborn in the granddaughter she hadn’t lived long enough to see. Simon had almost willed himself to die along with Eva, but looking down at Evie, he now felt he had a reason to go on living. In that moment, a blind adoration for her was born in him that would endure for the rest of his life.

When Phillip was finally allowed to see his daughter for the first time, he was overwhelmed with a love like no other he had ever experienced. If he did nothing else in life, he could be proud of fathering this beautiful baby. “Evie,” he whispered, giving her the necklace she would always wear, “you are my future.”

From that moment, Evie became the center of Phillip’s world. Although Ann, too, had longed for this child, vowing never to allow her to be abused the way Ann had been in her childhood, Phillip felt that his life had been transformed. His days were filled with happy expectation of the moment he could pick her up, and his nights no longer were troubled by horrible dreams about the war.

As she grew from tiny infant to plump smiling baby, he insisted on feeding her dinner and playing with her on the living room floor.

From the very first her face lit up at the sight of Daddy. Ann watched the two of them with an occasional stab of jealousy. It was wonderful, of course, that Phillip took fatherhood so seriously, but there were limits. After all, wasn’t she the one who spent her days taking care of Evie? Yet the minute Evie saw her father’s face she had eyes for no one else. Ann didn’t understand that deep down inside herself there dwelt a lonely child who wanted to be indulged and pampered just as Evie was.

Still, her twinges of jealousy were short-lived, and she laughed at her own foolishness. Phillip was a perfect father. When Evie had colic, he walked the floor with her, soothing her cries. When she fell down, he put on the Band-Aids. When she had a high fever at the age of one, Phillip stayed home from work for four days fussing over her like a mother hen.

“Darling, can they do without you for this long?” Ann asked, worried that he was taking advantage of Kenny. “Evie’s not in any danger.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, Ann?” he said, a trace of irritation in his voice.

How could he tell her how unimportant he was to Newman, Ross, Simons, and Newman? They could probably hire a second-year law student to do what he did. Nothing had really changed since his conversation with Kenny. He had gotten a small raise, but he had not been assigned more challenging work. From time to time he thought of leaving, but he was always stopped by the thought that if he couldn’t make it under Kenny’s aegis, then he’d never make it elsewhere. Without realizing it, he was beginning to see himself the way Kenny did.

It hurt him to think that Evie couldn’t have every material thing she might want, and in an effort to compensate, he smothered her with love and spent whatever extra money he could scrape together on her. Nothing was too good for Evie Coulter.

I
T WAS DECEMBER OF
1952. Evie was three years old, and positively enchanting. For the first time she was old enough to understand what the holiday was about, and the only thing she could talk about was “Santy Claus.”

For the last week, Ann and Phillip had been promising to take her downtown to Macy’s to see this magical figure in person, to sit on his lap and tell him what she would like for Christmas.

Saturday morning, Ann woke up feeling weak and feverish. She had been fighting off a cold for several days, and now it seemed to have hit full force.

Struggling out of bed, she threw on a wrapper and went into the kitchen to find Phillip and Evie already eating bowls of oatmeal with brown sugar.

Looking up from her breakfast, Evie chirped happily, “We’re going to see Santy Claus today! Huh, Mommy?”

But Phillip, noticing Ann’s flushed face and glassy eyes, asked, “Honey, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m all right.”

Phillip was unconvinced. “You don’t look so good, sweetheart. You’d better go back to bed.”

“I can’t, Phillip. We’re taking Evie to see Santa today; she has her heart set on it.”

“Well … listen, Ann, how about if I take Evie alone? There’s no need for you to drag yourself down there feeling the way you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It will be fun having Evie all to myself for a day. And you can get some rest.”

Feeling too sick to protest, she dressed Evie in a cotton sailor dress. Ann wished she had something warmer, but Evie had been growing so fast that most of her clothes didn’t fit.

“Put her coat on, Phillip,” Ann said.

Phillip went to the closet. Taking out the little brown cloth coat, he stared at it for a moment. It seemed so shabby.

Sighing, he told Evie, “Stick your arm out, sweetheart.”

Evie obediently stuck out both arms and Phillip wrestled her into the coat. Then he buttoned it up and stood back to survey her. Phillip had never paid much attention to children’s clothes before, but somehow Evie didn’t look quite right. The coat was worn and too short besides. Luckily, Evie didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Bye-bye, Mommy,” she was calling from the doorway. “I’ll say hello to Santy Claus for you.”

Holding Evie by the hand, Phillip stood in line with all the mothers and children. When it was Evie’s turn, she just stared, big-eyed, at Santa’s flowing white beard and ermine-trimmed red hat.

“Ho, ho, ho!” he said, lifting her onto his lap. “And what would you like for Christmas, little girl?”

Reassured by the twinkle in his eyes, Evie smiled, but was still tongue-tied with shyness. Phillip just watched. How adorable she was. How far superior she was to all these other ordinary-looking children. He ordered ten copies of the picture the store took of each child without stopping to think what he’d do with them all.

When she hopped down and raced to him, he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her. “You were great, Evie, darling.”

She curled her arms about his neck, whispering breathlessly, “I saw Santy, Daddy!”

“Did you tell him what you wanted?”

She shook her head.

“Well, then, princess, you’ll just have to tell Daddy, and Daddy will tell Santa for you.”

They wandered through aisles bedecked with sparkling lights and glittering tinsel garlands and banks of red poinsettias. It was a fairyland and Evie’s eyes were like stars. But as Phillip looked down at her, something snapped inside him. All the other little girls were so festively attired—red velveteen jumpers over ruffled blouses, or starched organdy dresses with blue satin sashes. He felt like he was letting Evie down. She had a right to everything other children had.

Purposefully, he took her by the hand and led her away from the toy department down the escalator and out of the store. A blast of cold air hit them on Stockton Street and he felt Evie shiver. They waited on the corner for the signal to change, then crossed the street to the City of Paris. The imposing store, with its lacy black ironwork, was crowned by a replica of the Eiffel Tower. Eva had always bought his good suits there when he was a little boy. Before they knew it, he and Evie were in the children’s department.

“I would like to see a coat for my daughter,” he said to the silver-haired saleslady.

“What color do you like, my dear?” she asked.

“Blue, please,” Evie said, dimpling.

“I think I have just the thing,” she said, taking down a hanger from the rack.

When Phillip saw his child dressed in the blue flannel coat, with its prim pearl buttons, her cherubic face framed by a matching bonnet, he was so completely carried away that he just said, “We’ll take it. How much is it?”

“Seventy-five dollars, sir,” the saleslady replied. “Will that be cash or charge?”

“I’ll write a check,” Phillip said, swallowing hard. Seventy-five dollars! That was a lot of money, but damn it, Evie was worth it. And why
shouldn’t
his daughter have a decent coat?

Covertly, he checked his balance—a hundred dollars—and wrote out the check.

“Thank you, Mr. Coulter,” the saleslady said, then stopped. “Phillip Coulter! Why, I remember when you used to come in with your mother—must be thirty years ago or more!”

“I imagine it must be,” Phillip said.

“So this is your little girl! Isn’t that wonderful. She is just adorable.”

“Thank you,” Phillip said, smiling. “Well, you’ll have to excuse us, we have some more shopping to do. Merry Christmas!” he said as he and Evie took their package.

Phillip walked away, feeling unexpectedly warmed. He remembered how nice it had been going places as a child with Eva when money was never mentioned, because it was never a problem.

Suddenly he made a decision. He was going to open up a charge account. Evie was going to have a Christmas to remember. “I need it activated immediately,” he told them upstairs in the credit department.