Chapter Thirty-Two. Helen, 1964
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Helen had a terrible secret. It gnawed at the lining of her stomach much of the time, and sharpened its bite whenever she was around Betty.
If only she hadn’t written that note a few weeks earlier.
She’d never intended to give it to Douglas; she just wanted to know what it would feel like to see her feelings captured on paper.
She should have destroyed it immediately.
Now she couldn’t find it. She’d torn apart all her belongings, searching for that scrap of paper with her initials and Douglas’s entwined in a heart.
Helen’s cheeks turned hot every time she considered the fact that Douglas might have found it. But he never acted any differently around her, so she gradually began to believe it might have gotten swept into the trash after she’d accidentally dropped it.
She was trying so hard to fall out of love with him.
If only she’d met Betty first, she never would have allowed herself to develop feelings.
But the first time Douglas administered the card test, his voice deep and gentle as he told her to relax and have fun, her heart had fluttered.
Another time, their fingers brushed and she’d felt a tingle low in her belly.
At night, she built fantasies starring the two of them.
She even collected magazine tips on ways to be a good wife: On cold nights, light a fire before he comes home from work so your house feels like a cozy haven.
Let him talk first, even if you have a dozen things to tell him.
Helen’s soft, romantic heart had always yearned for a man exactly like Douglas.
But then she met Betty, who’d become like a sister to her. Yes, she’d fallen in love with Douglas. But now she loved Betty more.
For the past week, Helen had experienced a reprieve from her relentless guilt.
With the birth of Sandra requiring Ivy’s hospitalization, Professor Trimble had less use for the women.
He’d gone on a business trip to London, which meant they were granted a deliciously free stretch of time.
They’d made the most of their break, squeezing in housecleaning, cooking, grocery shopping, trips to the beautician, and most of all, glorious sleep.
They hadn’t replenished their deep deficits of rest, but they all felt a bit more refreshed. At least, Kathleen and Helen and Betty did.
Ivy was another story.
She hadn’t had any relaxation at all, not with the physical toll of labor and delivery and the demands of a newborn. Even though she’d received good care in the hospital, she didn’t look like herself. She seemed subdued, her vitality drained away.
Today Ivy was being released from the hospital. It was also Betty’s twentieth birthday. Kathleen had urged Ivy to skip the dinner party she was hosting, but Ivy insisted: “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“We need to make a promise to end by nine PM,” Kathleen told Helen, who’d arrived early to help. “And let’s all take turns holding Sandra so Ivy can sip a cocktail in peace.”
Helen nodded vigorously. She wanted to please Kathleen. No—she wanted to be Kathleen. Who wouldn’t?
Tonight would be a challenge for Helen, even though the occasion was festive. Douglas would be here. She’d have a chance to see if the resolution she’d made would stick.
Helen set the dining table with a floral cloth and trimmed the stems of a dozen pink and white carnations before arranging them in a vase.
She defrosted frozen shrimp for the appetizer before placing them in a neat circle on a bed of iceberg lettuce leaves.
Meanwhile, Kathleen prepared the roast and Jell-O salad studded with marshmallows and cut-up apples.
Dessert would be Betty’s favorite: pineapple upside-down cake.
The bar was stocked with ingredients for the usuals—Tom Collinses, Manhattans, daiquiris—and candles were waiting to be lit.
Everything was nearly ready when Kathleen clapped her hands together. “Come with me.” She led Helen into her bathroom. The walls were tiled in teal to match the tub and commode, and a makeup bag was open on the sink top.
“I love a good makeover,” Kathleen said. “Now, close your eyes. I’m going to tweeze your brows first.”
Helen flinched at the sharp little bursts of pain, but then Kathleen smoothed a cool, soothing lotion over her eyebrows.
She felt soft brushes tickle her skin and the press of Kathleen’s fingertips against her cheekbones.
While she worked, Kathleen kept up a running commentary.
“You really need to buy Suzy Parker’s Guide to Beauty.
It’s my bible … Suzy says always use a lip brush for applying lipstick …
Oh, I love this seafoam green on your eyes!
… Did you know that if you rub half a lemon on your nails, it’ll banish nicotine stains?
Not that you have any yet, but we’ll all get them someday.
“There!” Kathleen took Helen’s shoulders and twisted her to face the mirror. “You’re going to knock everyone’s socks off!”
Helen stared at a version of herself she’d never met. Her eyes looked wider and her lips fuller and pinker. “I love it!” she cried, throwing her arms around Kathleen’s neck.
It was Betty’s birthday, but she was the one who’d gotten a present.
“Just in time. Sounds like everyone is here,” Kathleen said as the doorbell rang. Helen took one last look in the mirror, then grabbed a tissue and wiped away just enough of the makeup to reveal the pale, plain girl she knew herself to be.
She needed to honor her vow. She wasn’t going to be tempted by—or try to tempt—Douglas ever again.
It happened just before 8:30 PM.
The night had been a rousing success. Although baby Sandra awoke and began to wail while they were cutting the cake, Kathleen was able to soothe her by feeding her a bottle.
Helen watched as Kathleen murmured to the baby and Ronald tenderly smoothed back a lock of Kathleen’s hair, then leaned over to whisper something that made his wife smile.
Ronald seemed utterly in love with Kathleen; Helen had noticed his eyes seeking her out throughout the night.
Helen felt a pang of loneliness, as she often did when she lay alone in her twin bed or watched couples strolling hand in hand on the campus lawn.
At least she had friends now. Ivy seemed subdued and her big laugh hadn’t rung out once, but at least she was here.
Kathleen looked like an angel with the angles of her face illuminated by the tapered candles.
And Betty, so gracious and competent, was even able to charm David by refilling his drink and serving him generous helpings of food.
He seemed content, his sharp edges softened for the evening.
“We’ll try for a boy soon,” he said when Douglas told him that the baby appeared healthy and alert.
Not too soon, Helen hoped. Ivy needed time to recover.
The first warning sign was Betty’s glass crashing against the floor. She’d dropped it and was staring into space, her face draining of color.
An instant later, Helen felt a tightening in her chest. She couldn’t catch her breath, even though she wasn’t exerting herself.
“Ivy?” she heard David say. “Why are you shaking?”
“What was that?” Kathleen whispered. “I felt it, too.”
Betty winced. “I don’t know.”
“Oh no, you’re bleeding!” Ivy said, pointing. A shard of the glass had bounced up from the floor, slicing a tiny cut in the back of Betty’s hand.
Douglas was staring at Betty, not even trying to help her. His lips twitched, as if he’d swallowed something distasteful. Douglas didn’t like this side of his wife one bit, Helen realized. But he’d still report it to Dr. Trimble. Whatever had happened, it meant their reprieve was over.
Ronald, who was a darling, brought Betty a bandage and actually swept away the broken glass himself, rather than waiting for one of the women to do it.
“Did something startle you girls?” he asked. “You all had a physical reaction to something.”
Helen held her breath. Dr. Trimble had forbade them to discuss anything about his work, and this somehow felt related to it.
“I’m not sure why I was so jittery,” Betty finally replied. “But I’m fine now. In fact, I’d love a turn holding sweet Sandra.”
She reached for the baby and nestled her close. “Doesn’t she smell like a dream?”
“I could just gobble her up!” Kathleen chimed in.
“And that dress! Could those ruffles be any more precious?” Helen added.
They were deflecting attention away from what had just happened. Working together, like Dr. Trimble wanted.
David Lennox’s chair creaked as he turned toward Douglas and made a comment about a high school kicker the team was scouting, and soon the men were engaged in conversation again.
“Dr. Trimble will want to know about this,” Helen said softly.
“We’ll tell him as soon as he’s back,” Ivy replied.
“While we’re wearing matching white dresses, of course.” Kathleen rolled her eyes and the other girls laughed.
“I hope we find out what caused our reactions,” Helen whispered to Betty as they hugged goodbye. “It was so strange!”
They did find out, the very next day.
While on the airplane coming back from London, at a few minutes before 8:30 PM, Dr. Silas Trimble had suffered a heart attack.