Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (96 page)

I sat uncomfortably, shifting in my chair,
ill at ease with the man who continued to gaze at me with bashful
eyes. He was introduced as Frederick Reese from Philadelphia. “He’s
on his way to visit his sickly aunt in Buffalo, isn’t that right,
Frederick?” Ned’s mother asked before supper was over.

“That’s right, Mrs. Griffin,” he answered,
then scooped a pile of potatoes into his mouth.

I tried to listen to the argument between Ned
and his father without seeming too interested. Mrs. Griffin
returned with pie for both Frederick and me, then disappeared back
into the kitchen.

I waited impatiently for Ned to return. I
overheard my name mentioned; the subject of their argument was
money and me.

“You promised to send money! I can barely
keep this place running.”

“I have sent you all I can. Most of my money
goes back into the company. I have hired well-known actors who
demand a higher pay!”

“I saw the ring on her finger. That diamond
must have cost a pretty penny, so don’t lie and tell me you’re
putting all of your money back into the theater.”

“I’m doing the best I can!”

“Why did you bring that girl here? To flaunt
her in front of us? You tell your mother she is the love of your
life, you stick a ring on her finger, then try to hide it. What
kind of game are you playing? Your mother may approve of this new
girl, but I think she is as contemptible as any other girl who
would allow herself to participate in one of your productions,”
Norman spat.

“You don’t know anything about Lillian!” Ned
shot back. I could hear the contempt in his voice.

Frederick by now was finished with his pie. I
pushed my seat back and went to help Mrs. Griffin in the kitchen; I
had heard enough of the argument between Ned and his father to lose
my appetite for dessert. As I rose out of my seat, the young man
who I had believed was too painfully shy to speak, to my surprise
said in a low whisper, his eyes barely looking up into mine, “I
know you.”

On most occasions, I hadn’t taken into
account my fame and how many people had seen my face on the cover
of the nation’s most popular ladies’ magazine. Here at Ned’s family
home in such a sleepy little town, it was the last thing I had
expected to come up.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve
ever laid eyes on,” Frederick was uncharacteristically bold enough
to say. But as quickly as he uttered those words, he excused
himself and hurried upstairs. I smiled to myself at his compliment,
one of the most innocent, sweetest compliments I had ever
received.

Mrs. Griffin was washing the remaining supper
dishes, and I gladly went to assist her. Memories of myself as a
young girl helping Opal, Heath’s mother, came flooding back. Opal
was like a mother to me. She was the woman I was grateful to have
near when my own mother had tragically disappeared out of my life
when I was so young.

From the slightly open kitchen window, we
could still hear Ned and his father quarrelling.

“Those two used to be close, a great pair.
Ned is Norman’s only child. John was from my previous marriage to
Hugh,” she explained as I began to dry the dishes from the rack
beside the deep copper sink. “Hugh left me when John was nine,
without word. For no reason he was gone. I met Norman soon after I
turned this house into an inn to keep food on the table for John
and myself. Norman was one of the first guests. He was going from
town to town, aspiring to be a preacher.” Martha naturally
reflected back into her memories, thinking of the handsome young
man. He was years younger than Martha, and had somehow found his
way through a wicked winter snowstorm to the front porch of
Martha’s home.

“He didn’t say where he had come from or
where he was going on that bitter cold night. Just said he had come
to the right place, grateful to be out of the storm. However, when
he said it, he looked straight into my eyes. And I swear, at that
moment I saw my future in them. And I was right. Norman and I fell
in love in the week we were snowbound, held hostage, and imprisoned
by three feet of snow.”

Martha reached over the sink and lifted my
hand, then extended it out so the light from the lamp would reveal
the gorgeous sparkle of my beautiful diamond engagement ring.

“Ned told me he was going to ask you for your
hand in marriage. Gave him my blessing. Can’t say the same for
Norman. Since Ned moved away to the big city, Norman has felt
betrayed. He always wanted Ned nearby. And not only to help run the
inn. Norman thought the world of his son. He and John weren’t
close. John missed his real pa. So when Ned was born, Norman was
beside himself with joy. Norman took him fishing as soon as he
could hold a pole. In the winter, those two would be out sleigh
riding until their fingers turned blue.

“Ned dreamt of fulfilling Norman’s ambitions
to be a preacher. Norman was elated; his son worshiped the ground
he walked on. Until one day, Ned seemed to grow up all of the
sudden. Took to reading Shakespeare and other books, instead of the
Bible. He found a love of the theater, not church. When Norman
learned Ned was planning to go to New York City to become one of
those actors, he nearly had a heart attack. Couldn’t convince Ned
to change his mind and implored him to stay. Nonetheless, Ned had
big dreams and ambitions. Ned wanted to make a name for
himself.”

Martha motioned me to come and sit back down
in the dining room. She looked forlorn. It was kind of her to think
I was worthy of knowing such private family affairs. She already
saw me as family, and the guilt of my deception sent a chill
through me. Martha Griffin trusted me; she believed I loved her
son. And why shouldn’t she? I wondered. Here I was in her kitchen,
with a ring on my finger that proved I had accepted her son’s
unconditional love. Somehow, she didn’t see the tears of shame in
my eyes or feel me trembling when she placed her hand on top of
mine.

“No matter what Norman thinks, Ned has done
good for himself. He has the theater, which he loves, and you. That
has obviously been gift.”

Ned appeared from the shadows with a big
smile on his face, which masked the pain of the conflict with his
father.

“How are my two favorite girls doing?” he
said gingerly and gave us each a peck on the cheek. I blushed and
darted my eyes away from his heated gaze, while his mother laughed
and smiled - obviously thrilled that her son adored her.

“Lillian helped me clean the dishes, and now
we were sitting and talking. It’s wonderful to have another woman
in the house. You promise to visit often after you are married,
Ned?”

“Of course, Ma,” Ned replied and winked
playfully at me.

“Your pa would like that, too.”

Ned threw her a cynical scowl.

“He loves you, son, more than he lets
on.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

Martha eased up from the chair, announcing
she was exhausted and anxious to get to bed. “I’ll have breakfast
up and served at five. Hot sausage and eggs.”

“We’ll be at the table waiting!” Ned called
up the stairs.

“How are you? You look tired,” Ned said
thoughtfully. Though he hadn’t noticed the tears I had managed to
wipe away, he did notice the troublesome worry on my face. But just
as he was about to ask what troubled me, I insisted I was too tired
to talk and gave him a swift kiss.

“Good night,” I whispered, and without
waiting for him to return my good night wishes, I rushed up to my
room before he discovered how pathetic I really was. And before I
lost my nerve and confessed my appalling deception.

Inside the room, with the lamp turned to a
low, spooky glow, I tried to fall asleep. I swore I heard my door
open once. I thought I was being spied on. I nervously sat up and
turned the lamp up, but saw no one. Outside, the wind picked up.
The full moon was now hidden beneath thick black storm clouds.
Branches from a nearby tree scraped the clapboard siding, as
thunderheads rolled in over the dark lake.

Still, I tried to sleep, but tossed, and
turned to visions of Richard. He loved me with intense desire one
minute, then placed a noose around my neck the next. I cried out,
pleaded with him for answer: “
How could you? How could you lie
to me?”

I woke in a fright, parched and thirsty from
sweating under the thick cover of my nightmare. The rain was heavy,
and I heard every drop pound against the tin roof as I carefully
made my way, with a small oil lamp in hand, down the dark staircase
to the kitchen for a glass of water from the pump. It was late,
nearly two-thirty in the morning. Though outside a storm raged on,
inside the house it was still and subdued, like the calm before the
storm.

I pumped the well a few times, allowing the
water to fill most of my glass, then leaned against the
copper-lined counter and drank continuously until my throat didn’t
have a scratchy, dry feeling any longer. When I finished, I placed
the glass down in the sink, turned to go back to my room, and
walked straight into Norman Griffin.

He had been standing there, waiting for me to
bump into him, watching me and sizing me up without my knowledge.
Startled, I stepped back, staring up at him and tried to speak, but
he did not intend to allow me to say a word. Without allowing me a
moment to figure out what he wanted with me, he grabbed hold of my
arm with one large hand, and the other covered my screams so they
turned into frightened, muffled cries for help.

Norman dragged me outside, kicking and
screaming, into the deluge, through the thick mud and toward the
barn. Inside it was pitch black, and he bothered to light a lamp in
one of the empty horse stalls, where he threw me down and towered
over me so I wouldn’t dare contemplate an escape.

“Do you think for one minute I’m going to let
such a tramp come into my family and ruin our family’s good name?”
Norman spat. “Ned is a good boy, just trapped into a life he
doesn’t know how to get himself out of. That city, that devil city
is full of sinners, sinners like you,” he shouted, fiercely
pointing his long finger down at me. I huddled against the wall,
shivering from fear, not from the cold chill of the early spring
rain.

“Please, Mr. Griffin, I’m not . . .”

“QUIET!” Ned’s father commanded. Then he
reached down and lifted me by my hair, causing me to whimper. “You
listen and listen good. We are God-fearing people. Ned is one of
them and has no business with the likes of you, you hear! I was
planning on him moving back in with us, to give up on the business
that steals his heart and soul. If he marries you, all that is
lost.”

“But . . .”

Norman slapped me across the face, not once,
but twice.

“I know what your kind of woman can do to a
man. You take hold of his heart, then once it’s in your possession,
you crush it, stomp on it, and leave the man with nothing! All his
dreams, hopes, ambitions are all lost. Ned wants to be here; I know
he does. He is just lost is all. I was lost once,” he muttered, and
tossed me back down onto the thin layer of straw that lined the
bottom of the stall. “And came upon a woman who I believed would
help make all of my dreams come true. Fell in love . . . Oh, how
stupid I was. Left my home, my family, for her sake. Took on her
boy, John. Gave him my own name. And do you think for one minute
after that I was able to make something of myself? No, I was stuck
here, in this awful, run-down house, playing husband and pa. I
hated Martha for it, for trapping me into living here; hated her
for making me fall in love. It was her soft gray eyes, her
beautiful figure. She came to me, used her womanly wiles to win my
affections. I should have known better!” he shouted, and reached
for me again, yanking me up and into his clutches. I tried to pull
away, struck out, and cried for Ned. Norman’s fiery eyes glazed
over, his jaw tight, his strong hands now fondling me. “You have
her heavenly body, you do. I enjoyed her, and was thrilled when my
boy came. It was all that stopped me from leaving the way her first
husband did.”

“Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed in a panic, as
he struggled to slip my nightgown up over my head.

“I bet you don’t tell him to stop. I bet you
like it when Ned gives it you,” he murmured, as he forced me down
and began to unbuckle his belt.

“Oh, no, not again,” I sobbed uncontrollably
while lying helplessly under him.

“I know your kind; I know what you like,”
Norman huffed, and just as he was about to enter me, he suddenly
slouched over and went limp. I snapped open my eyes and looked up.
Frederick stood with a shovel in hand. I scrambled to my feet as
fast as I could and hastily dressed.

“Seen what he was doing to ya. Wasn’t gonna
let him,” Frederick said, as he stood staring down at Norman. He
appeared lifeless, and I wondered if Frederick had killed him.

“Is he . . . ?”

Frederick knelt down and felt for a pulse,
then said in a low voice, “Still livin’.”

I began to shake uncontrollably and whimpered
quietly.
What had I done to deserve such torture? Did all men
see me as an object and not a person? Did I really live in a world
where I was prey, to be hunted and mauled by any man who wished to
do so?
I was tired of being blamed for every man’s failures,
tired of being accused of being a wicked, foul woman. I knew Ned
didn’t feel that way, not yet. However, he was bound to. Certainly
he would after he learned what I had been planning to do. Maybe
Norman was right about me; perhaps they all were.

Frederick came and put his warm, comforting
hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t pull away as he seemed to fear I
would. While I sobbed and fell into his arms and clung to him -
this stranger who knew nothing of me other than my divine portrait
on a magazine - I realized I was lost . . . so very lost. I had
been for so many years. Looking for acceptance, love, understanding
and harmony since the day Daddy handed me over to Eugenia Arrington
and never looked back. I thought I could fill that deep emptiness
and loss with handsome men who reminded me of Daddy. I sought their
love in hope that they would protect me, care for me, and love me
the way my own father should have.