Letters never sent, p.16
Letters Never Sent, page 16
Mrs. Yoccum swallowed and studied her with kind eyes. She touched Joan’s knee with a gnarled hand. “Sweetheart—”
“He forced her,” Joan said. “Didn’t he?”
“Joanie,” Mrs. Yoccum said softly. “You have to understand.”
“Oh, I understand, all right,” Joan said, angry, appalled, and conflicted at the same time. “No wonder she hated me.”
“There’s no excuse for what he did,” Mrs. Yoccum said. “He spent all those years in love with her, waiting for her to love him, too. When he found out it would never happen—when he found out why it would never happen—it sent him into a rage. I don’t even think he knew what he was doing.”
Joan wildly shook her head. “Oh, I think he knew what he was doing.”
She remembered some of the late night arguments between her parents. She remembered, too, her father’s temper and the sting of his belt when he spanked her for indiscretions.
“He raped her,” Joan said dully, almost to herself. Understanding flooded her. “No wonder she hated me.”
“Your mother didn’t hate you,” Mrs. Yoccum said quickly. “She hated your father and what he did to her—what he took from her . . . but she never hated you.”
Joan suddenly remembered what Barbara had said about her father talking about helping to cover up a murder. Could they have had something to do with the death of “A”? She wanted to ask if Mrs. Yoccum knew anything about it, but realized that she probably wouldn’t divulge any more than she already had.
They sat in silence.
“Well,” Mrs. Yoccum said finally and pushed herself to her feet. “I’d better be getting home.”
Joan rose awkwardly, still stunned by what she had learned but wanting to know more.
“Could we talk again?” she asked as Mrs. Yoccum shrugged into her jacket, the satiny nylon making a sczhing sound. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe later,” Mrs. Yoccum said. “But I’ve really told you all I can without breaking my promise to your mother. Besides, you’ve got a lot going on right now. This can wait.”
“No,” Joan said. “I’m not sure it can.”
“Well,” Mrs. Yoccum said, touching Joan’s arm. “When you reach my age, you realize what a waiting game life really is. Seems we’re always waiting for something.”
They walked in silence to the door.
“Let me walk you home,” Joan said as she flipped on the porch light and turned to look for her shoes.
“No, dear,” Mrs. Yoccum said. “But thank you.”
Joan watched as Mrs. Yoccum made her careful way down the steps and along the sidewalk to her own yard. The motion-sensor light snapped on, illuminating her path up her own front steps and into her house. She waved before going inside and pushing the door closed behind her.
With a sigh, Joan turned off the porch light, locked the door, and wandered back into the candlelit living room. She felt numb, overwhelmed at what she had learned and furious at her father. Though they might not have considered it rape back then, that’s exactly what it was. And it now made sense why her mother had resented her. And it made sense why she had hated her father so much. But why, if she had reconciled with “A” had she stayed with Clyde? None of it made sense.
Joan sank back down into her mother’s chair and stared at the flame of the candles, mesmerized by the way they danced and swayed. She again touched her stomach and thought about the unwanted baby growing inside her. She was almost certain she was going to Wichita for an abortion. Had Katherine considered the same thing? Had it even been an option?
Perhaps, Joan thought dully, her mother should have had an abortion. Perhaps she would have been happier if she had. Life was all about choices. And she had a choice she had been avoiding making.
“Soon,” she promised herself. “Soon.”
Chapter 12
Chicago, Illinois, 1933
KATHERINE CROUCHED AMIDST the rows of wooden card catalog cases and flipped through the slender drawer of neatly-typed note cards. The librarian had assured her that the book she was looking for, As I Lay Dying, would be listed here but she hadn’t had any luck finding the correct call number.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she pushed the cards back and began to go through them again. “Why do they have to make it so—ah ha.” She triumphantly located the card in question. She turned slightly, picked up the request slip, and, using her knee as a desk, began to copy down the call number. She heard the soft clearing of a throat and craned her head up and froze. Annie. Katherine’s heart thumped faster and her stomach tightened. She slid the drawer closed, stood upright, and started to walk away.
“Kate,” Annie whispered. “Please.”
Katherine wasn’t sure what she expected, but the utterance of that single word, “please,” stopped her. She stood for several seconds, her back still to Annie. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.
“Just . . .” Annie paused. “Just please hear me out.”
Katherine turned and met Annie’s gaze and was shocked by what she saw. Annie’s eyes were as large and dark as ever. But the glimmer of amusement, as if she were inwardly laughing at her own private joke was gone, and they now looked haggard, the delicate skin beneath them smudged with purplish shadows.
“Are you following me?” Katherine hissed and looked around to see if anyone was watching them. “What are you doing here?”
Annie frowned. “I came to check out some books. And then I saw you.” She looked at Katherine. “We need to talk.”
“I really can’t,” Katherine said and looked down at her watch. “I’m actually just leaving. I have to meet—”
“This is ridiculous,” Annie hissed. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. Why?”
Katherine jerked her eyes to meet Annie’s which were no longer simply tired, but also angry. “You know why.”
Her voice was louder than she had intended, and she glanced around to see if anyone had heard her. Thankfully, the library seemed to be fairly empty.
“Look,” she continued in a softer voice. “I understand that you’re a . . . a . . .” She faltered. “But I’m not. And I don’t like the way you look at me. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
Annie nodded solemnly, much as she had the first time Katherine had seen her standing with Mr. Ansen, nodding at something he was saying to her. Her expression was unreadable.
“Annie,” Katherine began, her voice gentler. “I like you. But only as a friend. That’s all it will ever be.”
“But—” Annie began.
Katherine held up a hand. “That’s all it will ever be.”
Annie gazed at her for long moment, her expression pained. She blinked and nodded. “I understand. But what about our friendship?”
Katherine sighed and looked instead at the librarian seated at the circulation desk. She didn’t know what to say. A part of her was drawn to Annie—as a friend, she clarified to herself. She enjoyed their time together—felt as if they shared a common intellect. But there was an equally large part of her that was scared of what she would be opening herself up to by remaining connected to Annie.
“We’re still friends,” she said finally. “But you have to promise that what happened before can never happen again. And you also need to agree that when we spend time together, it will be in the company of others or in public places.”
She stole a glance at Annie. She looked elated and disappointed at the same time but swallowed and slowly nodded acquiescence.
“And I need your word that we will not talk about . . .” Katherine searched for how best to phrase it. Nothing came to mind. “About what happened ever again.”
Annie nodded and stuck out her hand. Katherine stared down at it, noticing the long fingers, the narrow, upturned palm. She remembered those fingers on her jaw, gently guiding her face as Annie had intensified their kiss. She blinked away the memory and glanced at Annie’s face. Her eyes registered amusement at Katherine’s reaction—amusement and an unspoken challenge. Katherine jerked her chin defiantly and extended her own hand. Annie grasped it firmly. Her hand was warm and dry. Katherine knew hers was moist and perhaps a little clammy.
Annie laughed.
“What?” Katherine asked sharply, wondering if Annie was amused by her nervousness.
“Nothing,” Annie said with a small shake of the head.
“Tell me,” Katherine insisted.
Annie pressed her lips together. She shook her head again. “It’s nothing.” She glanced down at their still-joined hands.
“I don’t believe you,” Katherine said as she, too, looked at their hands and quickly pulled hers away.
Annie sighed. “I was just making a promise to myself and laughing at the incongruity of it.”
“And that was . . . ?” Katherine asked even as she wondered why she was being so insistent. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground and even as she didn’t want to hear what Annie had to say, she knew the larger part of her did. She felt Annie’s eyes studying her and, after a moment, met her gaze. She was unprepared for the jolt of . . . what? She didn’t know what to call it. Excitement? Nervousness? Giddiness? She blinked, though she was unable to look away.
“I promised myself,” Annie said finally, her voice soft, her eyes locked on Katherine’s, “that next time, you would come to me.”
Katherine jerked backward as if she had been struck. “Didn’t we just agree not to discuss that?”
“We did,” Annie said. “But you insisted on knowing what I was thinking. You can’t have it both ways, Kate.”
“This isn’t going to work,” Katherine said with exasperation and took a step backward. “Clearly this can’t work.” She looked down at the slip that now was crumpled in her hand. She had forgotten she even held it.
“Kate—” Annie said and reached out as if to touch her.
Katherine slapped her hand away. “Please leave me alone. If you really consider me a friend, just leave me alone.”
She turned and walked quickly away.
KATHERINE WAS SITTING in her room later that evening when she was startled by the soft knock on her door.
“Kate? You in there?”
It was Claire. Katherine set the book she was reading on the table, rose, and went to the door. As she reached for the handle, she heard Claire’s exaggerated whisper again.
“Kate. Are you—?” Claire blinked, startled when Katherine opened the door. “You’re here.”
Katherine smiled and stepped back to allow her to enter the room. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”
Claire started to answer, shook her head, and smiled. As she stepped into the room, Katherine saw her face in the light. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she had been crying.
Katherine’s smile faded into a frown. “Claire, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Claire wandered around the room, her back to Katherine. She stopped at the table and idly picked up the book Katherine had been reading. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Did you bring this from home?”
Rather than answer, Katherine closed the door and went to Claire. She tipped her head downward and touched Claire’s upper arm. “What’s wrong?”
Still not looking up, Claire shrugged, dropped her head, and hunched her shoulders. Katherine put a hand on her back, but said nothing. After several seconds, Claire shuddered, and Katherine realized she was crying. Carefully, she turned Claire and pulled her into her arms. The sobs became louder and more violent. The low keening that came from deep in her body was jagged and raw.
“Shhh,” Katherine murmured. “Shhh. It’s going to be all right. Whatever it is, it will be all right.”
“No . . . it . . . won’t,” Claire cried, her words uttered between ragged sobs. “It won’t.”
“Is it Lenny?” Katherine asked. She felt, rather than saw, Claire’s nod. “Did you two have a fight?” Again, Claire nodded.
“Oh, sweetie, just give it a couple of days,” Katherine said. “It will all come out in the wash.”
“It . . . won’t,” Claire hiccupped. “It won’t.”
“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” Katherine said.
Rather than reassure her, the words seemed to make Claire cry harder. “Oh, Kate.” She gulped. “If you only knew.”
“Knew what?” Katherine asked. “What is it?”
I’m . . .” Claire took a deep breath and straightened. She raised her eyes to meet Katherine’s. They were bleak, sorrowful. “Oh, Kate. I’m pregnant.”
Despite herself, Katherine gasped. Tears spilled from Claire’s eyes.
“How?” Katherine asked.
“How do you think?” Claire asked miserably.
“But, I mean, I thought you were careful,” Katherine said.
“We are. Well, most of the time. He always pulls out before . . .” She sniffed. “But there were a couple of times . . . Oh, Kate, what am I going to do?”
“Pulled out?” Katherine said. “Why didn’t he use . . . ?” Although she wasn’t as worldly as Claire, she understood that the only way to prevent something like this was to use a condom.
“He doesn’t like them,” Claire said as she again sniffed and used the back of her hand to wipe her nose. “He says they make it harder for him to feel anything.”
“But Claire—” Katherine began.
“I know, I know,” Claire said and inhaled deeply. She looked past Katherine to a spot on the wall and slowly let out the air in her lungs, her cheeks puffing out in a way that at any other time would be funny.
Katherine simply watched her, waiting for a fresh round of tears.
“Shhh,” she said as Claire’s body shook with more sobs. “It’s going to be all right.”
“No it won’t,” Claire said. “You don’t understand. Lenny is furious. He says I’m trying to trap him—to make him marry me. He says . . . I have to get rid of it.”
“Claire,” Katherine said, shocked. “You’re not going to, are you?”
“I don’t know,” she cried miserably. “I don’t want a baby—not alone. And he made it clear he won’t help. Oh, Kate, I barely make enough to take care of myself. I just . . . I can’t have it.”
“You could go to one of those homes,” Katherine said. “For unwed mothers. You could have it and then give it to an orphanage.”
Claire pulled back to stare bleakly at Katherine. Her eyes were red and watery. Her nose was runny. Her chin quivered as she tried to speak. “I couldn’t do that. Besides, if I have it I’ll lose Lenny for good.”
“Lose him?” Katherine exploded. “Who cares? Any man who acts like this after what he has refused to do isn’t worth your time.”
“You don’t understand,” Claire said. “I love him. I can’t be without him.”
“I thought you didn’t want to get serious,” Katherine said. “I thought you said you liked him because he was fun and carefree. What happened to that?”
“I love him,” Claire said, simply. “I can’t lose him.”
She stared pleadingly into Katherine’s eyes.
At a loss as to how she should respond, Katherine shook her head and gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what to say. What do you need me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Katherine could feel fresh tears seep through her blouse and wet her skin. Gently, she stroked Claire’s hair. They stood for a long time until Claire’s sobs subsided.
“I need a favor,” Claire said.
Katherine tensed. She knew Claire felt it, too.
“I can’t do this alone,” Claire said. “I need you to go with me when I have it done.” She grasp Katherine’s wrist and squeezed it tightly.
“I–” Katherine began.
“Please, Kate,” Claire whispered. Her eyes were pleading. “Lenny says he knows of a doctor who can do it.”
“Claire . . .”
“He’s going to pay for it,” Claire said quickly.
“Pay for it?” Katherine exclaimed. “He needs to go with you. He’s the one who got you in this mess.”
Claire dropped her gaze to her hand gripping Katherine’s wrist. “He said he would, except that he’s not good in those sorts of situations. He doesn’t like blood or seeing women cry.”
