The Last Princess (24 page)

Lily tried to make the best of it. She kept to herself. Mainly, she kept out of the apartment. She didn’t want Harry to know she still had so little to do. Some days she’d go on little shopping sprees, just to have something to show for her day. But early on she found herself counting the weeks until the whole family would be together again for the Christmas holidays. She and Harry had agreed to celebrate the reunion back at The Meadows. Harry was looking forward to it too, as he told her one night at dinner.

“I have to tell you, Lily, that I love being back in the city, but there’s nothing quite like Christmas in the country.”

“I’m so glad. I feel exactly that way. And this Christmas is going to be our best one ever. But there is one thing I want to talk to you about. I want you to try to be patient with Jeremy.”

“Lily, why do you always say that to me? I think I’m patient enough as it is.”

“Not always, darling,” she said softly, then stopped. She did not want to quarrel. But Harry was already angry. He pushed his dessert plate away and took a long swallow of coffee. Damned if
his
father had treated him with kid gloves! He was easy on Jeremy by comparison. But at least his mother had always backed his father up. That was a hell of a lot more than Lily had ever done. They had never agreed when it came to the rearing of their children. In the end, Lily usually had her way. And Jeremy was already the worse for it. Why fight about it now?

“Okay,” he said finally. “Have it your way. When Jeremy comes home, I’ll treat him with kid gloves.”

“You don’t have to go that far, Harry. Just be understanding.”

For Lily, the remaining weeks seemed to drag, but at long last it was mid-December.

C
HRISTMAS OF 1949 WAS
a joyous reunion for Lily. She had never been so happy to be at The Meadows as then, and as the family trimmed the tree together—without a single quarrel—Lily couldn’t help but feel this was the way it was always meant to be.

With a pang, Lily thought to herself how tall the children were getting to be. They grew up so fast. And that was the trouble with having had her children so close together: They all grew up at once. Lately she’d been thinking of asking Harry if they might have another, but every time she came close to asking, she couldn’t find the words. She knew Harry didn’t want to be a father again; he barely liked being a father to the four he had.

And so, instead, she hovered over Jeremy and Drew, Randy and Melissa, as though they were in danger of disappearing right then. Finally the tree was decorated from top to bottom. It seemed out of a winter fairyland.

Turning to Harry, Lily beamed. “I’m so happy here. You know, I have to tell you that I really love this house.”

“Lily, you don’t know how happy you’ve made me by saying that. You know I really wanted this house for you.”

Christmas dinner was superb. As usual, Ellis joined them, as did Randolph, who for once defied his mother to spend the day with Lily and his godson. Not an unkind word was uttered as they laughed and talked and ate. The boys rattled on and on about football and Melissa was on her best behavior.

After dinner everyone clustered around the grand piano and Lily seated herself at the keyboard. As they started on Christmas carols, Harry gestured to Jeremy, led him into his study, and closed the door. For a moment he said nothing as he looked at his son, thinking only, God, he was growing up into a handsome boy! He even was beginning to show a little stubble of beard.

“Would you like a little brandy, son?”

“No thanks, Dad.”

It was a sign of acceptance into the adult world, but Jeremy’s heart was pounding so much that he could barely stand, and the thought of liquor was repugnant to him.

“Have a little port, then,” Harry said, pouring the liquid into two snifters.

Jeremy took the glass but simply held it in his hand, not touching it.

“So tell me, how is school treating you these days?”

Looking at the painting on the wall, Jeremy noticed that it was a Modigliani. The colors were a fabulous crimson and blue. He thought ruefully, If only he could have been a painter—but then, he probably wouldn’t have been any good at it anyway….

“Fine,” he finally replied woodenly.

“You know, you’ve got fine opportunities at Exeter, and you’ll have even greater ones next September at Harvard. You know, your great-great-grandfather …”

“I know, Dad, I know.” He almost couldn’t bear to hear it.

Of course he knew. His ancestors and their illustrious careers seemed to dog him in the very halls of these institutions.

“There have been many times,” Harry continued, “when I regretted not having gone to Harvard in the family tradition. You know, kids never understand their parents’ motives. My father had the best intentions in wanting me to go there; I see that now.”

Suddenly Harry stopped himself.
Don’t pontificate
, he thought.

“Well, son, all I wanted to say is that I’m proud of you, and proud that you’re planning to go to Harvard. You have gotten your application in, haven’t you? When do you hear?”

“They don’t make a decision until after the first semester’s grades are in,” he said, trying to hide the tremulous note in his voice. If his father only knew how close it was, how much depended on those grades.

“Well, I have every confidence in you. Speaking for your mother as well as myself, we both think you’re exceptional.”

Twirling his glass between his sweating palms, Jeremy felt the back of his shirt cling to him. Chilled, he walked over to stand by the fire. Would his father feel the same way if he didn’t get in? Being accepted at Harvard had weighed so heavily on his mind that he had barely been able to sleep for months. Not only was there the burden of his father’s expectations, but also those of his grandfather, Benjamin Kohle. Jeremy had become his grandfather’s protégé and Benjamin was as ambitious for him as Harry was.

All too vividly, he remembered sitting across from him at the Harvard Club over lunch. “Jeremy, I have every hope that you will follow in my footsteps and enter the bank. I’m pleased to see that you’re not at all like your father, who was a renegade—though, mind you, I’m not entirely displeased with him nowadays—but it is my fondest wish that you enter the family business. We can’t let the heritage of our forefathers die; I know that you cherish that responsibility.”

There was only one possible answer. “Of course I do, grandfather.”

“It will be a great day when we can add another Kohle to the letterhead, just as soon as you graduate from Harvard.”

Jeremy shuddered at his tremendous sense of responsibility. How could he ever measure up?

Meanwhile, Harry moved closer to his son and put his arm around him. He felt he had finally gotten through to the boy. “Son, I’m glad we’ve had this little talk. Now we’d better go back and join the others.”

They could hear “Jingle Bells” resounding as they crossed the vast foyer and entered the living room, where everyone was still clustered around the piano.

The holiday had come and gone in an aura of joy; it had been everything Lily could have hoped for. It seemed to have erased the memory of the bitterness of the previous summer.

Another week would bring a new year. It seemed to Lily her family was at last on the verge of becoming everything she’d always hoped it would. Even Harry and Jeremy seemed to be getting along. But soon the blissful respite was coming to an end. On the second of January, Lily and Harry waved good-bye to each of their four children. The spring semester was beginning; she and Harry would be heading back to Manhattan.

As they walked back into the house and closed the door behind them, it wasn’t merely a door they closed—it was an era in their lives.

Henceforth the children would be only visitors. Jeremy was now on the threshold of adulthood; the others would soon follow, and one phase of their lives had come to an end.

A bittersweet feeling came over her. Here they were, just the two of them, as it had been in the beginning. Yet this was the natural progression of lives and family and marriage. And as people grew older, who remained most important in one’s life? She almost whispered aloud, Harry, Harry.

If she had ever needed him, it was now. As they looked simultaneously at each other, a wave of love for him enveloped her. She had seen a new dimension in him during this holiday; he had taken her concerns over Jeremy seriously—and she loved him for restraining himself.

When they settled into their apartment, Lily felt far more reconciled to their new life than she had been before the holidays.

Harry was happy and productive here and she was becoming used to the children’s absence. Finally she felt ready to embark upon the odyssey of self-discovery Ellis had encouraged her to investigate.

Lily volunteered to serve as a docent at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She was accepted into the program and fast became immersed in her studies. Between the training sessions by day and the books she had to pore over by night, Lily found herself mooning over her children’s absence less and less.

She was so caught up in her own work, she nearly forgot Jeremy, studying for his finals up at Exeter, but she arranged to have a large basket of goodies from Chadwick’s delivered to his dorm room as a special surprise.

That evening she called to make sure he’d received it. “Hello, darling. Did your basket arrive?”

“Yes, it did. Thank you very much.”

Jeremy’s tone was so lifeless, Lily became concerned. “What’s the matter, darling? You sound tired.”

“I’ve been studying a lot.”

“Well, don’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”

“No, Mother. I won’t.”

But Lily was not at all convinced, and that night, as Harry got into bed, she said, “Darling, why don’t you give Jeremy a call tomorrow? I think he needs a little moral support. He sounded so depressed when I spoke to him today. But please don’t mention the finals. I just think you should let him know you care.”

“Of course. I had every intention of calling him.”

The next day, Lily listened to Harry’s end of the conversation. “Hello, Jeremy, it’s Dad…. No, nothing special, just called to say hello … Studying? Yes, that’s what your mother said…. Listen, all I want to say is that I have a lot of faith in you…. I know you’ll make me very proud, and I don’t have a single doubt that Harvard will accept you…. Yes, of course, I’ll let you go now.”

After Jeremy had hung up, he buried his face in his hands. The words
I know you’ll make me very proud
rang mockingly through his head. If his father only knew! No matter how hard he struggled, he seemed to turn up nothing better than Cs and an occasional B.

Grandfather Kohle’s words flashed through his mind:
We can’t let the heritage of our forefathers die
.
…

Was he going to be the one to let it perish?

Just then, Laird Phillips, his roommate, entered the room. “Jeremy, old buddy, what’s the deal? Have you fallen asleep sitting up?”

“No,” Jeremy answered, lifting his head dully.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I saw the light on in the study when I got up this morning. Were you up all night again?”

Jeremy nodded. He seemed about to faint.

“Listen, Jeremy,” said Laird, his voice full of concern. “You’ve got to knock it off. You’re killing yourself. You must be prepared by now.”

“The best I can hope for is a C in math. I’m afraid physics will be even worse.”

“So what’s the worst that can happen? So you get a D—big deal. You are a shoo-in at Brown. Maybe you can transfer to Harvard later.”

“You don’t understand. If I don’t get into Harvard, it will kill my father.”

“Jesus Christ, what does he expect? Perfection?”

“Yes,” Jeremy replied tonelessly. “That’s exactly what he has always expected from me.”

“Well that’s just tough luck for him. You can’t study any more than you do, Jeremy. You haven’t had one date this year, or been to a single party.”

Jeremy just shrugged, then buried his head in his hands. He was miserably unhappy. In spite of himself, he suddenly became racked with sobs.

Laird was embarrassed by this show of emotion, but it made him all the more concerned for his roommate. Clearly, Jeremy was pushed to his limit. “Come on, Jeremy,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s not as bad as you think. Don’t take it so hard.”

Gradually Jeremy regained control of himself. Laird insisted he have something to eat, then lie down. Meekly Jeremy did as Laird said. He ate a little and then, exhausted, collapsed on the bed. Laird pulled the blanket up over him, turned off the light, and closed the door. His emotions spent, Jeremy was asleep by the time his friend tiptoed down the hall.

Laird was soon caught up in studying for his own exams. He barely saw his roommate. It was finals week when he got a few minutes to spend with Jeremy and was astonished to find him so gaunt and pale.

On the last day of exams, Laird went off to celebrate with a bunch of his friends. The party was wild and carefree, but somehow he couldn’t put the thought of Jeremy out of his mind. What he needed was a little fun. After all, by now the die—for better or worse—was cast.

“Jeremy,” Laird called out as he opened the door to their room.

The silent figure hung from the crossbeam, so horribly still Laird knew as soon as he saw him that it was too late. Even so, Laird pulled the Swiss Army knife from his pocket and desperately sliced through the rope. Jeremy fell limply into his arms.

Laird gingerly carried him to the bed. He ran to the hall phone and dialed frantically. “Operator,” he shouted. “I need an ambulance. Right away. Exeter. Room twenty-four. Hurry!” But even as Laird shouted, he knew that Jeremy was beyond help. Still, he would make the effort.

Darting back into the room, he began with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. But Jeremy’s lips were cold. Already his face had taken on a bluish cast. Nonetheless, Laird continued his hopeless maneuverings, even as the ambulance’s whirring siren blended eerily with the boisterous shouts of the campus revelers still downing beers by the keg in the courtyard.