The Last Princess (43 page)

But in truth, his reluctance wasn’t purely a matter of scruples. Dammit, he thought, he hadn’t wanted to catch her on the rebound, he wanted her to come to him out of love, not hurt.

When Mary opened the door to Lily, her face was sympathetic. “Here, let me take your things. How about a cup of tea?”

Numbly, Lily obeyed, and as Mary disappeared into the kitchen, she stood for a moment in the foyer, listening to the deafening silence. Their home seemed so vacant—not that it was still “theirs.” She could hardly believe it. Harry had walked out, and for the last time.

She wondered if he could have forgotten the way he had pinned the pink baby roses on her shoulder the day of their wedding, forgotten those cherished times when the children were young and the world seemed so new, forgotten the shared triumph of
Archie Sanger
after the long years of struggle, but most of all, forgotten the last year, in which they’d shared the richest renewal of their love.

Lily almost cried aloud, “What happened to all our dreams, Harry?”

Mary reappeared from the kitchen. “Here’s your tea, Mrs. Kohle.”

But Lily shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want it.”

She went to her room, fell down on the bed, and wept. Harry was gone, the children were gone, and her whole life lay in ruins. Once her tears had subsided, she got up and wandered about aimlessly, but the apartment’s emptiness seemed a reproach. The master bedroom with its big bed, empty, the closed door of Harry’s study, the living room where they had argued.

Lily couldn’t bear it anymore. She could still hear the echoes of her reproaches. No, she could not stay here, she would go to the farm. Strange how whenever trouble came, that was the only place she’d ever feel better.

That afternoon, when Lily drove up, Mrs. Gallagher was tactful enough not to inquire as to the reason for the unannounced visit, but the blank despair in Lily’s eyes wrung her heart.

And as the days went by, Lily took long walks, read a little, ate almost nothing, and spent a great deal of time sitting in the kitchen watching Mrs. Gallagher make preserves.

Once, she turned to ask Lily a question and was surprised to see a tear rolling down her cheek. Impulsively putting an arm about the younger woman’s shoulders, she asked, “Now, now, what’s wrong, lovely?”

But Lily merely blinked back the tears and shrugged, trying to smile. “Oh, nothing—just reminds me of old times, that’s all.”

Lily tried to comfort herself with memories of the old days, but those idyllic times seemed so long past, they were of little consolation.

Now she didn’t even have Ellis to turn to. She was still embarrassed by the way she’d behaved that fateful evening. Imagine, begging someone to take her to bed!

Over and over she replayed that scene. Had Ellis truly said he loved her? It seemed unbelievable.

It was not that the idea of falling in love with Ellis was unthinkable; succumbing to love again was the issue that couldn’t be brooked. In her life it seemed that loving someone simply led to infinite pain and sorrow. For Harry, forgiveness was out of the question. The very thought of Kate Hathaway chilled her. She hoped that their affair would lead to nothing but misery for them both.

But they were in love. Harry had said so. What unhappiness could await them?

Meanwhile, Harry had been badly shaken by Lily’s rage. He knew the saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” but never would he have thought his gentle wife capable of such deep and lasting anger.

Somehow, he had thought she would be calm, almost indifferent, when she found out. She didn’t really love him anyway, so what would she care if he was in love with someone else?

When Lily slammed the door, he had remained in stunned shock for a long while, almost unable to grasp what had happened. Finally, unable to stand the silence, he had seized his hat and coat and gone to Kate’s apartment. Dressed in her robe, she answered the door, and when she saw him her face lit up.

“Hello, sweetheart! I didn’t expect you tonight—”

But quickly, she saw the grim expression on his face, and her tone changed. “What’s wrong? Come and tell me about it.”

Even before Harry spoke, Kate sensed what was coming. He and Lily had had a confrontation. Nothing else could have changed Harry so.

As Harry sat down and accepted a Scotch, Kate looked at him, seeing for the first time the graying at his temples, the lines around his eyes. He seemed to have aged overnight.

Leaning back heavily against the couch, he lit a cigarette with a trembling hand. Then, with a quick, angry gesture, he tilted back his head and drained his drink.

Kate allowed a full minute to pass while she poured him another. Then she said softly, “Tell me what happened.”

Harry stubbed out his cigarette and said flatly, “Lily knows about us. She’s left me. That’s all there is to it.”

“But isn’t that what you wanted? I mean, we don’t want to go on like this forever, sneaking around and hiding.”

He sighed. “No …”

“This isn’t just a casual affair, Harry,” Kate went on, her eyes troubled. “I love you and you say you love me. This had to happen sooner or later. We’ll be happier being honest with each other and the world.”

He said nothing and she probed, a trifle anxiously. “You do love me, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I do, Kate.”

She moved over and put her arms around him; he turned to embrace her. “I’m sorry. I knew that she wouldn’t take it lightly. She’s not that kind of woman and it was so obvious we’d drifted apart; I didn’t think she would take it so hard. If anything, I thought she might be relieved. I guess it just goes to show you how thick a man can be. She said that she hated me, and that was a terrible thing to hear. I don’t hate her…. Our marriage just went stale somehow…. Oh, damn, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Kate kissed him. “Don’t think about it, sweetheart. It won’t do any good. She’ll get over it.”

“I know. But tonight …”

Kate could feel him stirring restlessly in his sleep and once, toward daybreak, she woke to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking.

They stayed in bed until noon. Subconsciously, Harry wanted to put off the crucial encounter with Lily. Would she still be as angry, or would a night’s reflection have calmed her?

But finally he got out of bed, saying heavily, “I’m going to have to go home to pack a few things. Lily said she wanted me out.”

“You can move in here, you know, darling. I’d love to have us sharing a roof at last.”

He hesitated. “Let me see what happens when I talk to Lily.”

But when he arrived home, Mary told him that Lily had packed her things and gone to the farm. Cursing himself for not having been there to see her, he asked, “Did she leave any message for me?”

“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Kohle.”

Reluctantly Harry packed his things and moved them to Kate’s, but as the days passed, she sensed his restlessness and inner turmoil. He still felt as if he and Lily had unfinished business between them, no matter how final she had sounded that night. But a week went by with no word from her. Finally he called the farm.

Mrs. Gallagher answered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kohle. Mrs. Kohle is out.”

Several more tries elicited the same answer, and gradually he realized that she was not going to talk to him. He found himself at a standstill, with no idea of what to do next.

But then, something happened that made him question his behavior even more than before. The children had been alerted about their parents’ separation. Lily wanted to be sure that they could always be reached. Harry assumed they would accept the news as a matter of course until he found out from Randy that Drew had dropped out of Harvard.

The next day, he went to the address in Greenwich Village which Randy had given him. By the time Harry stepped over passed-out winos to get to the door, he had worked himself into a rage. When Drew opened the door, Harry went inside, took one look at the filthy room, and thundered. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Drew just glared at him. “You bastard. Leaving my mother for some whore—”

Harry slapped Drew across his face. “How dare you? Who do you think you are?”

Though staggered by the blow, Drew managed to keep his balance. “It’s not who I am, it’s who you are! You’re not worthy of her; you never have been. And now you’d like to destroy her, just as you destroyed Jeremy! Wasn’t it enough that you killed him? Do you have to kill her, too?”

Harry was speechless. After all these years, he’d managed to push the awful guilt out of his mind, only to hear the old accusation on his son’s lips again.

His urge to punch Drew ebbed away. It was no use. They were strangers now; they would never have anything more to say to each other. Harry turned without another word and let himself out.

As Drew watched his father go, he began to shake with emotion. It was all his father’s fault—all of it! Mom, Jeremy, the breakup of their home, their life as a family, even the emptiness of his own existence. But suddenly he found little joy in the bare, gritty room he’d taken in hopes of avenging his mother. He had girded himself for a pitched battle with his father, but instead of fighting, Harry had deprived him of his victory by leaving. When Harry had turned to the door, Drew noticed the slumping shoulders, the graying hair. Was his father, the shining god, the indestructible one, vulnerable? Drew regretted his harsh words. He had blamed his father for so many years, but now in the very act of making the accusation, he had begun to realize his unfairness. No one could be ultimately responsible for another’s self-destruction. The truth was that Jeremy had been flawed, no matter how much Drew loved him.

And in that moment, Drew realized that he had now also lost his father forever—and for all the losses, he cried bitter tears.

Meanwhile, to Harry it seemed that his entire family had deserted him. Two days after seeing Drew, he received a call from Melissa’s school which bothered him even more deeply. Melissa had been caught sneaking back into her dormitory at two in the morning with alcohol on her breath. She’d confessed to an assignation with a young man. The school warned that one more such incident would bring expulsion.

She had been wholly unrepentant when he’d gone up to Miss Parker’s School to talk to her.

“Don’t preach, Daddy. So I had a date. At least I’m not committing adultery.”

Harry could barely find his voice. “That’s no way to talk to me, young lady! I’m your father and you owe me respect, dammit! I didn’t come up here to discuss my actions with you.”

Melissa had refrained from echoing Drew’s angry accusations, but her tone remained caustic. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”

As he drove away, Harry gripped the steering wheel in sheer frustration. Fatherhood seemed a heavier burden than ever before. His children seemed to him an array of unpleasant strangers. At the same time, he saw with new clarity how deeply he had failed them. All he had done was sire those children. Somehow, he felt a new sense of responsibility. Perhaps it was too late, but he was going to try to be a real father to the three he had left. All these years the burden had fallen on Lily’s shoulders, but now, despite their estrangement, he felt a new urge to take on his share of the load.

Harry’s car caught Lily by surprise. She had been walking through the field when it pulled up in the drive. The sight of him walking toward her made her stomach knot.

Summoning her pride, Lily reminded herself to remain calm and dignified. The two went inside to the living room to talk about the children. After Harry briefed her on his latest encounters with them, Lily said, “I hadn’t heard about Melissa’s problem, but I knew about Drew. He came to tell me about his decision. I don’t agree with it, but he is his own person now. There’s no way we can force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“I suppose not,” Harry sighed. “But we still have control over Melissa. We have to do something. This incident at school sounds awful. They don’t seem to be able to control the girls and it worries me. And I didn’t like the way she looked. Too much damned makeup, and too damned sophisticated for a young girl. She didn’t even pretend to be remorseful about what she had done.”

Lily shrugged. “Well, in our last conversation, all she said to me was that she wanted to drop out of school and become a model.”

“But she can’t do that without our permission. It’s time that we took a firm stand with her, before it’s too late.”

Lily looked past him. “I did the best I could with our children, tried to be the best mother I was capable of being. I told myself that if I made mistakes, they would at least be born of love, and that the children would grow to be fine, happy adults. Obviously, that was wrong thinking. Randy doesn’t seem to care much about us. Melissa is lazy and terribly self-centered, and Drew is unhappy and rebellious, and clearly not living up to his potential. I guess I left something out of the equation—the discipline they needed. But it’s too late, Harry. There’s nothing we can do to remedy the mistakes we’ve made with them.”

Harry was shocked by the bitter resignation in Lily’s voice. Never had she been so brutally frank in her estimation of the children—always, to hear her talk, they had been perfect.

Now he said in a voice quickened with alarm, “Lily, don’t say that! It’s not too late. We can’t force Drew back to Harvard, but we can certainly cut off his allowance and see if that sends him a message. And we still have jurisdiction over Melissa. I feel that perhaps Miss Parker’s is too lenient for her—how would you feel about sending her to a Swiss finishing school?”

“I thought that you were so anxious that she go to college.”

“Well, we have to face reality. She has barely scraped through Miss Parker’s, and if she’s talking about dropping out to become a model, college can’t be in her plans. At least a Swiss school will keep her out of trouble for another year or two, and by then maybe she will have acquired a little maturity.”

Lily closed her eyes. If they could salvage something from the wreck of their marriage, it must be their children. She and Harry would have to stick together on that. This was probably the last chance they had to influence Melissa. Harry was probably right, the lure of a Swiss finishing school would appeal to her. Perhaps it would exert a moderating effect on her vibrant, reckless nature.