The Lost Hearts (8 page)

“I have to say, Phil, I was a little surprised to hear
about you and this girl.  These guys have been telling me all about her.”  It was a voice Alexis could not place and she guessed it to belong to one of his childhood friends.  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better looking woman.  You won on that score, my friend.  But she sounds kind of…different.”

“Yeah,” a
nasal voice chimed in.  “She’s always been an odd bird.  She sticks out like a sore thumb at Harvard.  And now she’s always making a big show of her work at the museum.”

“Come on, guys.  This is my girlfriend you’re talking about right now.  I’m dead serious on her
, don’t you see that?”  Alexis sighed inaudibly with relief at his chivalrous defense.  He continued, his voice suddenly bloated with conceit.  “She’s undeniably the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.  In my many years of experience with women, no one has come close.  And you know I’d never allow myself anything less.”  Alexis frowned in the dark, her brow folding into a skeptical crease.  It wasn’t quite the noble argument she had in mind.  “And as for all the academics and the silly work she does now, well, let’s just say that I’ve got a plan.  In the end, she’ll learn she has a role to play. 
Especially
among the Talbots.”

Dumbfounded, Alexis felt her body go numb and she teeter
ed into the bush.  The chatter halted.

“What was that?” she heard one of them hiss.

Alexis’ heart thrashed against her chest.  Her head whirled, and she couldn’t decide whether to leap from her hiding spot or to remain cloaked in the tangle of foliage.  She held her breath, and she sensed through the thick silence that the young men were straining to identify the sound which had cut short their conversation. 

After a moment, the murmurs settled back into convers
ation.  Alexis didn’t know what to think.  She had just heard a different man speak than the one whom before had professed such unconditional adoration.  In all the time she’d known Philip, she’d never heard him converse with such a candid tone, and it chilled her to the bones. 

The adrenaline blasted through her body, pushed her backward, up the stairs and onto the veranda.  She leaned against a pillar and let out a gasp.  Who was that man who had described her with such disdain?  She could feel fi
re lighting up her whole body.  It was a battle between devastation and fury.  Alexis balled her hand into a fist and slammed it against the marble.  She had never felt so small and stupid in her life. 

S
he crept along the veranda, keeping the shadowy cluster of men in view.  Without consciously plotting, she decided she would emerge from the other side and meet them, as though she had just stepped out for some air.

“Well, you better enjoy yourself while you can.  I know one thing for sure, the ladies must be sorry to see you locked up in a relatio
nship,” the whining voice of Phillip’s university friend laughed.

Alexis was at their backs.  They hadn’t noticed her.  Her heart had stilled into a dead calm, and she reached out her hand to touch Philip on the shoulder.  He swung sharply.

“Jesus!  Alexis, you scared the hell out of me,” he practically barked.  The young men stiffened and busied themselves with their cigarettes.

She swallowed hard.  “My ears were ringing.  I thought I might be the subject of someone’s conversation.  And then I came ou
t here for a breath of air and who did I see?”  She made a willowy motion with her arm.  “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, her voice false.  “So lovely to see you.”

A tall shadow she recognized as Erick Parcel
leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.  “It’s good to see you, Alexis.  We were just remarking on how beautiful you look tonight.”

Alexis looked up at Philip’s face, his expression hardly visible except for the nervous widening of his eyes. 
He’s lucky he can’t see my face right now, either
, Alexis growled inwardly.  “Why, thank you, Erick,” she returned.  “What are you men whispering about?” she asked on an uncharacteristic flutter of laughter.  She could sense Philip’s confusion, and she relished it.

Philip cleared his throat.  “Nothing, dear.  You know.  The usual male banter.  Sports, politics.”

“Yeah,” another piped in for good measure.

“Oh, my.
  Well, I suppose this is no place for a lady then,” she continued airily. 

The young men shifted in place, nervous ripples of laughter falling flat on the marble.  “Any advice for Boston’s most coveted bachelor and his new lady?” 

Philip turned at an angle.  He knew just as well as she did that she never spoke like this.  He eyed her with sideways, but he could see nothing but the raven silhouette of her hair.  The group simpered uncomfortably for a moment when Erick chimed in.  “We’ve just been congratulating Philip here on his luck.  You’re a perfect match.”

“Marvelous,” Alexis cooed
.  “I’m so glad he has supportive friends.  And I, myself, couldn’t ask for a more supportive partner.”  Alexis felt the seams of her dress threaten to burst as she drew a mighty breath of composure.  “Surely you remember those early days at Harvard, right Erick, Ben?”

“Uh…”

“Philip could have easily been as unwelcoming as most of my classmates were, except for you two of course,” she continued.  Ben got caught between a cough and awkward laugh.

“But no.  He was open-minded, encouraging, and he even stood up for me on occasion.  Do you remember that?”

“Er…we were always happy to have you around,” Erick tried.

“Yeah,” Ben
echoed in a pinched whine.

Alexis threw her head back in delight.  “Of course you were.  Like minds, right?  I wouldn’t expect less from friends of Philip.”

Philip’s head bounced back and forth as though watching a tennis match, completely bewildered at this strange spectacle.  He had the peculiar sensation that he was being baited, but he shook it off.  She’s probably had her share of champagne, he thought.

“
And here we are,” she quipped.  “I’m just so grateful to share this lovely evening with you gentleman whom I hope to call friends, and my dear, dear Philip.”  Alexis swatted Philip’s arm like an extraverted coquette and let out a melodramatic sigh.  “I’ll leave you boys be.  I can see I interrupted a perfectly good conversation.”  Alexis hardly waited for the feeble farewells that followed her as she spun and turned on heel. 

“Just a second,” she heard him say. 
Footsteps sounded behind her and a strong hand gripped her arm. 

“Alexis!” Philip hissed. 

“What?” she exclaimed in mock innocence.

“Do you want to tell me what’s gotten into you?”

Alexis rolled her eyes in the dark.  She was tired of playing.  “I’m exhausted, Philip.  I want to go home.  I’ll see you later.”  She turned again, but he whipped her around.  Hard.

“Hey,” he said, his voice growing louder.  “I’m talking to you.”

“You mean
about
me,” she snapped.

“What are you talking about?”  His defensive tone broke with guilt.

“Nothing, Philip.  I’m going home with father.  Have a good night.”

“I’ll drive you home, Alexis.  I want to say goodbye to you properly.”

Alexis burst into wry laughter.  “Really?”

Philip pulled her into him
.  He felt so different now.  So strange and foreign.  Like she was leaning against a cold, inanimate piece of matter.

“Yes,” he insisted, kissing her forehead.  “Let me grab the keys and we’ll go.”

Alexis sat against the door of the convertible, a silent fuming mess.  She fixed her gaze on the patch of road illuminated by the headlights, but she could see that Philip turned his head to glimpse her.  Alexis clenched her jaw.  His guilt disgusted her to the point of vi
olence, but she could not bring herself to confront him. 
If I confront him, then I know he’s not what I thought he was.  I know for sure that he was never what I thought he was.  What we were,
she thought.

The car rolled to a stop at the foot of her property, and the pair sat silent and motionless for a few minutes.  Philip turned slowly, as though the movement of his body might incite a riot.  From the corner of her eye, Alexis saw him swallow hard. 

“Alexis,” he started.  Just the sound that his mouth made of her name ignited fury in her blood.  Even it sounded like a lie.  “Alexis,” he said again, a paternal authority returning to his voice.  “I can see you’re upset and I wish you would tell me why.”

Alexis did not respond.  She stared down at her body, shimmering in black.  She opened the car door and slipped out. 

“Alexis,” Philip shouted. 

“Say it.”

Philip laughed, bewildered.  “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Say to me what you said to your little friends on the veranda, Philip.”  She en
unciated each word slowly.

His eyes flashed with panic and he coughed.  “What?”

“Stop toying with me.  Say to me what you said.  Say to me why you want me.   Tell me what you think of how I live my life.  And especially tell me what you have in store for the future.”

A
lexis watched his jaw fall slack in astonishment.  That confident, angular jaw.  He looked pathetic.  She snickered and shook her head in contempt. 

“You’re a liar and a coward, Philip,” she said as she slammed the door shut.  Philip sat stunned
, completely paralyzed.  His mind was a well-oiled machine, and he had rarely found himself in a predicament he couldn’t maneuver around.  But she had caught him in a bald-faced lie, and the wheels in his brain ground to a halt.  He didn’t know what to do.  He was losing what he wanted most.  She turned her back and he heard her curse him as she walked away.

Chapter Fi
ve

A matronly librarian in a modest wool dress walked with purpose along the broad aisle of Bates Hall.  Alexis sat alone at her favorite table in the far corner, the contents of her bag strewn across the polished surface.  She hunched forward, her chin resting heavily in the palm of her hand, her eyes in a vacant trance.  By now she had lost count of the moments she’d caught herself adrift in such a daze, and each time she shook her head in frustration, unable to break loose from persistent nagging thoughts.

It had been a week since the Talbot’s Autumn Party, and Alexis hadn’t managed a single night of solid sle
ep.  Massaging her temples, she closed her eyes, which seemed to spontaneously combust with angry tears.  She felt lost in the ensuing days that Philip made no appearance.  She imagined he had cut his losses, and though part of her was defiant, she had missed him.

Then one night Marion had tapped at her bedroom door.
“Philip’s here,” she said in a hushed whisper.  “I know you don’t feel like seeing him right now, but he won’t go away.  He’s waiting downstairs for you.” 

Alexis had descended the staircase to see him leaning defeated against the wall, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his head hung submissively low.
  His eyes, normally crisp and sharp, seemed scattered beneath those thick lashes.  He had led her out to the quiet gardens of her home and without restraint she assailed him with the bitterness of her discovery.

“It’s all been a lie, Philip,” she cried, her fists balled and nails digging into her own flesh.  “A long, tragic lie.  I feel like such a fool.”

“No, no, no,” he repeated, almost a plea.  He searched her face from beneath heavy lids and unclenched her hands.  “Come here,” he had said, and pulled her into a vice-like embrace.  It was desperate, and she shook against his body, wanting to succumb.  She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Philip as a deceptive stranger.  And so it was tempting when he offered her exactly what she wanted to believe about him, about them.   

If she believed him
, the most she could fault him for was failing to stand up to the group of snobby, coercive friends.  “Alexis,” he had said, his voice throbbing with conviction, “you have to understand that these have been friends of the family since I was able to walk.  They’re true Boston royalty and they live in a different world than you and me.  They have outlandish expectations of me and anyone I invite into my life. 
Especially
a woman I’ve shown such enthusiasm about…I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stand up for myself, and for you.”

He sensed her doubt and doubled his efforts.  “You mean the world to me, Alexis.  How could you question that?  For God’s sake, how could you think that I want anyone but you?  How could I fake it for so long?   Why would I even bother to deceive you?  I want
you
, Alexis.” 

Now in the library, Alexis rubbed her eyes as she remembered the immense sense of relief coupled with clawing self-deception.  She wanted to give Philip the benefit of the doubt, but how could she when she added everything up?  Did she really believe that Philip could be so different than his family, and at
best, resist their influence just for her sake?  She had the sickening hunch that Philip was simply good at telling everyone exactly what they wanted to hear.

Yawning
, she pulled her leather bag near and clumsily searched for the gold pocket watch her father had given when she was a little girl.  She held the fine-etched disc between her fingers, and flipped open the cover.  Exhausted but headstrong, she felt she owed herself another hour of uninterrupted work before heading home.  She scanned the surface of her desk, by now a miniature disaster area of the innumerable books and journals she’d collected.  She retrieved the report of Dr. Thomas Barringer, an anthropologist who’d recently spent many months searching for a lost tribe of New Guinea.  She’d arranged an informal interview with the renowned Harvard professor early next week in hopes of narrowing down her father’s itinerary.  A last minute, but crucial detail. 

Al
exis began to scribble at the margins when she heard the frenetic approach of heeled steps.  It was Helen, the librarian.  Her eyes were wide behind thin wire-framed glasses, and her bloodless lips plunged into a frown. 

“Alexis!”
  The way Helen’s voice cracked made Alexis’ insides turn.

“What is it?” Alexis asked with deathly calm as she rose from her chair.

“It’s your father.”  Helen braced herself against the table to catch her breath.  “His colleague telephoned for you.  He’s at Good Samaritan Hospital.”  Helen reached for Alexis’ hand.  “My assistant is telephoning a taxi now to take you there.”

“But wha
t did he say?  What happened?” Alexis suddenly understood she was a mere second removed from the impact of a crippling blow.

Helen, a good friend of the Scotts for many years, brought a hand to her tremb
ling mouth.  “I’m not sure, dear.  It sounded like a coronary.”

For a moment she stood immobile, rooted to the floor of the room
, which seemed to tremble and crack at its very foundation.  “Oh God,” she heard herself say.

“Alexis,” Helen said softly, her hand closing around Alexis’ black-sleeved arm.

Alexis stared hard at the floor, muttering incomprehensible thoughts.  Helen shook her softly. 

“Go, Alexis.  Leave your things.  I’ll get them to you.” 

Alexis felt herself nod, though she was no longer in command of her movements.  Her body now slick with a dead, cold sweat, she raced through the library, the men and women watching curiously as she disappeared from sight.

Alexis gnawed furiously at her nails as she tailed the young nurse leading her through the sterile corridors of the hospital.  The woman was small in her sober white dress, her face soft and maternal.  She turned her head to Alexis as they marched through the hallway, “We’re almost there, Alexis.  Just at the end of this hall.”  Her large, doe eyes shone warmly below her neatly pinned cap.

Alexis
tried to smile, but her subconscious whipped her.  What if he didn’t make it?  What had she last said to him?  Had she thanked him, told him enough that she loved him?  Had she been pouting about not having a more active role on the expedition?  Maybe he wouldn’t have suffered a heart attack at all if she hadn’t pressed him about New Guinea.  Alexis could feel her shoulders start to shake. 
Hold it together
, she commanded herself.

P
icking up her speed, Alexis could see familiar faces congregating outside her father’s door.  They were men that Alexis had grown up with, many of them colleagues at the Boston Society of Natural History.  She sickened to see them stare solemnly at the black and white tiled floor, blankly stroking their mustaches.  Charles Woodall lifted his head as Alexis neared them.  He unfolded his body from a weary slouch and stood tall, opening his hands to her.  His eyes were rimmed with red.

“Ch
arles, what’s going on?”  She let him take her hands in his, searching his face carefully.  “Is he okay?” she barely managed to ask, wholly unprepared for the worst of news.

“Your father suffered a coronary, Alexis.”  Charles’ eyes shifted slowly, fixing everywhere but Alexis’ gaze.  “He came to the museum today and looked a little unwell, but none of us thought anything of it.  He didn’t complain.”  Lowering his head, he leaned into Alexis.  His voice tripped over his words, and he struggled to take command of his emotions.  “Bates called an impromptu meeting to discuss the final logistics of the trip and…
he…he just seemed to drain of all his color.  I…I’ve never seen anything like that before, he just grabbed his shoulder and crumpled to the ground.”

Alexis winced
.  She had never known it possible for a feeling to squeeze her insides.  She clutched her stomach and heaved as blood shot up behind her eyes.  “Can I see him?  Where’s the doctor?  Will he be okay?”

At that moment Alexis felt a hand brush her shoulder.  A man with a
friendly, round face pressed a brown clipboard against the breast of his white coat.  “Are you Mr. Scott’s daughter?”  She nodded her head like an automaton, her mind a terrifying white slate.  “I’m Dr. Monahan.  Would you please come with me?  We can speak in private just over here.”  He beckoned her with his hand, and they moved quickly into a small conference room across the hall.

“I’d like to see my father,” Alexis said, her neck craning to glimpse the opening in her father’s room. 

“You can see him as soon as he wakes.  Right now he needs all the rest he can get.”  Dr. Monahan motioned to a chair, but Alexis ignored him. 

The ag
ing man nodded and placed the clipboard on the cold metal table.  He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes as though buying time before relaying bad news.  “Alexis,” he began, clasping his hands in front of him.  “Your father suffered a severe coronary this afternoon.  I don’t know any way to say it other than we’re lucky that he survived it.”

The words pummeled her like
iron fists.  She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice splintered.  She backed up against the wall.   

“Right now he’s asleep with the help of a lot of medication.  He won’t feel any pain for a while.  When he wakes
, a nurse will call you and you’ll be welcome to visit him.”  Dr. Monahan’s voice was soothing, but matter-of-fact.  “I…feel I must warn you, Miss Scott, that your father will not be the same again.  Especially in the initial stage of his recovery.”

“What…what are you talking about?” Alexis stammered, frightening visions of a grotesquely altered life twisting her mind. 

“What I mean is that your father’s heart is very weak now.  He won’t be able to take the stresses of work, or the physical demands of travel.  I’m very sorry to say that he won’t be able to go on his trip, and I’m not sure that he should even continue his role at the museum.”

Alexis covered h
er mouth and shook her head.  “No…no!  You don’t understand.  His life
is
his work.  We can’t tell him that it’s all over.  You have no idea what that will do to him!”  By the end, Alexis realized she was hissing at the doctor’s face.

Dr. Monahan’s
expression of sympathy did not waver.  “I understand you are very upset now, Miss Scott.  I think it best that you occupy your time and mind with calling on friends and family to decide what the next steps are.  I will schedule a meeting with you tomorrow and we can discuss the circumstances which precipitated the heart attack and what kind of recovery we’re looking at.”  Dr. Monahan rested the palm of his hand on her shoulder as he moved toward the door.  “And I assure you that our nurses will notify you the instant that Mr. Scott is able to receive visitors.”

The door clicked
behind the doctor, and Alexis squeezed fistfuls of her skirt with white clenched hands as she sank against the wall to the floor.   Curled tightly, she buried her face between her knees and sucked at the air.    Her mind churned with terror.  In the span of an evening her entire life had been torn to shreds.  How would she be able to put one foot in the front without her father?  Her life contained so few loved ones that to lose Lawrence was to lose the very center of her universe.   A strange low sob poured from unnamable depths and her shoulders pitched violently.  She didn’t hear the door open, and so she jerked with surprise when she felt a pair of solid arms envelop her small, trembling body. 

Philip pulled her from the sterile wall and pla
ced her firmly against the length of his torso, his hand coaxing her head to fall into the curve of his neck.  “I’m so sorry, Alexis.  I came as soon as I heard.  Peter told me that someone from the museum called looking for you.”  Rocking gently, he stroked the tear-soaked curls from her eyes.  “Don’t worry.  Everything will be alright.  I’ll take care of everything.” 

Alexis closed her eyelids and nuzzled her face into his neck, weeping silently.   She clung to him like a child.  Gone were all the doubts, the disagreements, the stories which did not add up.  She was home now, in Philip’s arms.  He’d opened himself to her in the darkest hour, swept her to safety, and she buried herself under him, under the promise that everything would be alright.

Lawrence Scott opened his eyes gingerly, adjusting to the surreal transition between sedative-induced sleep and the reality of the barren hospital walls reflecting impersonal white light.  “It’ll take him a few minutes to join the real world.”  The pretty, doe-eyed nurse folded a towel and placed it next to Lawrence’s bedside table.  Alexis noticed her voiced stretched and dipped with a subtle yet
unmistakable southern drawl.  “You just let me know if you need anything.  If he starts to doze off, it’s best to just let him.” 

“Thank you…for everything,”
Alexis murmured as the young woman closed the door.  She shifted nervously at the foot of the bed, afraid to take in the defeated, alien figure that was her father.  He breathed noisily through his mouth, as though it cost him to replenish the air in his lungs.  His round cheeks, usually pink from exertion, seemed gray and flaccid, clinging apathetically to his face.  She saw that his dark eyes were dull now.  Defeated.  Alexis could feel her throat thicken with grief, and she prayed for the strength to keep her heartache to herself.  She didn’t want her father to see himself in her eyes.  She sank her fingernails deep into her thighs, forcing a brave face.