31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I n the meantime, an arrangement had been made where Lenore’s parents would collect Johnny every Saturday to spend time at their house with them and with Laura. Lenore encouraged it; Johnny should know his aunt. He would come home in the evening, talking all about “’Aura.” There were signs of ice cream and sand about him; her sister must be taking him to the beach, which she thought was good.
One fall evening when her parents brought him home to her, they sat for a few minutes in the parlor to tell her about his day. The evenings were becoming short, with darkness descending around suppertime. Lenore turned on a lamp. Johnny was worn out from all the fresh air and activity, and he soon fell asleep in her lap.
Harriet bid hello to Mr. And Mrs. Wainwright, but disappeared after they refused her offer of tea .
“We have some news,” Mrs. Wainwright said as Lenore cradled her sleeping toddler.
“Good news, I hope,” she said.
“It is very good news,” her father said with a raise of both eyebrows. “Laura is getting married.”
Lenore sat back in her chair, shoulders slumped, her mouth open. She hadn’t even known her sister was seeing anyone.
“His name is Edwin Knickerbocker,” her mother said with a smile. That was good; it appeared they approved of him.
“He’s a fine young man,” her father said, putting in his vote of confidence. He leaned forward, clasping his hands.
“Does he know . . .” Lenore’s voice trailed off.
“He does,” her mother said simply.
Had they moved on? Had they put those horrible events of November 1933 out of their minds? She hadn’t. She doubted she ever would.
“That’s good. Everything is out in the open then,” Lenore said. At least he wouldn’t be blindsided by idle gossip. That wouldn’t have been fair. She fiddled with the hem of Johnny’s shirt, unable to meet her parents’ gaze.
Her mother got to the point. “She’d like you to attend the wedding.”
Lenore frowned and did not lift her eyes. “I don’t know about that.” She thought for a moment and stammered, “ It’s too soon.”
“Lenore, it’s been almost two years,” her father said gently.
She shrugged. Did she want a relationship with her sister? At that moment, she didn’t think so. Could you forgive someone yet not want anything to do with them?
Her father spoke softly, leaning back and to one side of his chair, elbow on the arm, fingers of one hand stroking his chin. “She is your sister, and there’s no way of changing what has happened. You know my feelings on the subject, therefore I won’t belabor it.” He sighed. “But someday, your mother and I won’t be here.”
Lenore looked up at him. At one time, she’d taken for granted that her parents would always be there. It had been hard to imagine life without them. But now she knew differently, knew how fate could be cruel and how your life could change in an instant.
“After us, you and Laura will have known each other the longest. And your mother and I both know that you and she are as different as chalk and cheese. But you can’t shut her out for the rest of your life. It will serve no purpose. Do no good.”
Her father could be quite eloquent when the situation demanded it. It was what had earned him four consecutive terms as Lavender Bay’s mayor. But his eloquence fell flat with Lenore .
Uncertainty gripped her. She didn’t want to have to make that decision today. And probably not tomorrow either.
“Think about it,” her mother said. “And maybe you’d allow us to take Johnny to the wedding?”
They looked at her, expectant. In turn, she stared at her beautiful little boy, the image of his father, sleeping contentedly in her lap. She did not want to pass her anger onto him. He was building a relationship with his aunt, and that was good.
“Of course,” she said.
Her parents didn’t stay long and as they were leaving, she stood, trying not to wake Johnny. Her parents kissed her cheek and her father whispered, “Think about what we’ve said. But we’re pleased you’ll allow Johnny to go to the wedding.”
“Good night, Mother and Dad,” she said. Balancing the heavy toddler in one arm, she locked the door behind them, watching as they got into their car and pulled away.
She carried Johnny upstairs and when she reached her bedroom, she didn’t bother turning the light on. She smiled at his sleeping face, and gently laid him in his crib next to her bed, pulling off his shoes and socks, and placing a blanket over him.
She went downstairs to do some final cleaning up. On her way down, she noticed a sliver of light beneath the door to Harriet’s room. The lodger liked to read before bed. Lenore used to like to read but these days, she could barely keep her eyes open once it got dark. She wondered if she’d always be this tired.
Downstairs, Hilda was in the kitchen, peeling a turnip she would then chop into small cubes and set in a pot of water for the following day. There were a couple of carrots on the drainboard, and Lenore hoped she’d leave them until the morning.
“Johnny had a good day then?” Hilda asked with a smile.
“He’s tuckered out. Fell asleep in my arms.”
“Good. Having him at your parents’ house on Saturdays gives you a break, too.”
The truth was, Lenore missed Johnny when he wasn’t there. She didn’t like him away from her and out of her sight, but she knew she couldn’t become like that: nervous and anxious. That would be no way for him to grow up.
“Would you like some tea, Hilda? I’m making myself a cup.” Lenore held the big kettle under the tap and filled it, setting it on the stove.
“No thank you. I’ll be up and down to the bathroom all night long if I drink anything now,” the older woman said.
“Fair enough.”
Once the tea was made, Lenore sat across from Hilda. “Laura is getting married,” she said, opening the conversation. “to someone named Knickerbocker.”
Hilda nodded, not surprised. “I’d heard earlier in the week that she’d gotten engaged.”
Lenore couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. She thought she and Hilda shared everything.
Hilda caught her expression and smiled. “Lenore, that wasn’t my news to share.” She set the paring knife down on the table. “I won’t come between you and your sister. Like your parents, I won’t be caught in the middle.”
“Do you think I should go to the wedding?” Lenore asked, sipping her tea.
Hilda shrugged. “It’s not for me to say.”
“But you have an opinion, I’m sure of it.”
The older woman laughed, and her eyes lit up. “You know me too well, Lenore.” She continued, “It requires a lot of energy and effort to stay mad at someone for years . Grudge-holding will wear you out over time.”
Lenore was about to protest, to point out that if Laura had never brought Horace Howard into their lives, then her John would still be alive. Johnny would have his father and she would have her husband. But before she could say anything, Hilda said, “I know what you’re going to say, and there’s no doubting that what happened was a terrible tragedy. You’ll grieve for your husband for the rest of your life, but do you also want to carry all that anger and rage around your neck like a millstone? It wasn’t Laura who killed John. You need to separate her from the crime.”
Lenore knew intellectually that what Hilda said made sense. She just hadn’t arrived there yet on an emotional level. Between her parents and Hilda, they certainly had given her something to think about. But maybe not that night. She’d think about it another day.
Hilda cut the last bit of turnip into cubes and piled up the waxy scraps, putting them into a bucket to be taken out to the compost pile in the morning. She stood and put her hand on her lower back. “Well, that’s it for me. I’m going up.”
“All right, Hilda, have a good night’s sleep.”
“Are you coming up?”
“Not yet,” Lenore said.
Hilda nodded. “Good night then.”
“Good night.”
She didn’t linger too long in case Johnny woke up and started crying. Ten minutes later, she rinsed out her teacup and set it on the drainboard to dry. She made one last check of the windows and the doors, making sure everything was locked up for the night. She lingered at the back door that led out to the porch, opening it and peering out, hoping to get a glimpse of the lake but only seeing darkness. For a moment, she listened, letting the sound of the surf crashing onto the shore lull her, like it always did. Finally, she closed up the door, locked it, and checked it twice before turning off the lights and heading upstairs.
The day of Laura’s wedding was a cool but sunny autumn day. The wedding was to be a small affair, starting with the ceremony at the church, then followed by a luncheon at the Wainwright residence, as Lenore’s own wedding had been years earlier. The guest list was considerably smaller than Lenore’s, comprised of only immediate family and close friends.
Lenore’s parents came to pick up Johnny early in the morning, and as they were leaving, her mother eyed Lenore’s apron over her everyday dress but said nothing. They did not ask her if she would be attending.
She kissed Johnny goodbye as her father carried him out. He was always excited to go off with his grandparents, knowing it was going to be a day of adventure.
Before Lenore closed the door behind them, her father said, “The ceremony starts at one sharp.”
Muttering to herself, she headed back to the kitchen. There were dishes to be washed. In the kitchen, Hilda said to her, “I laid out the mauve dress on your bed. I pressed it last night.”
Pursing her lips and putting her hands on her hips, Lenore said, “I still haven’t made up my mind about whether I’m going or not. ”
Hilda stared at her. “She’s your only sister. You’ll regret it if you don’t. She may have set fire to the bridge, but you can put it out.”
Knowing Hilda was right but annoyed all the same, Lenore stamped her foot and marched out of the room with Hilda’s laughter ringing in her ears.