The Shadow Portrait (22 page)

It was a rare compliment, and Alice turned with surprise. “Why, thank you, Oliver,” she said. “I always like to hear you say things like that.”

As if afraid he had been too complimentary, Oliver turned away, clearing his throat roughly. He was a man who feared to let his emotions show, although he had them. This would have come as a surprise, for in his struggle to achieve wealth he had hardened himself. It was not for him to let his enemies know that he had softness; that was the way to get hurt! Now as he pulled off his coat and began to undress for bed, he said, “I just had a talk with Cara. I think it cleared the air quite a bit about that young Winslow.”

“I think she misses him. She had a wonderful time talking about art.”

“We’ll get somebody else in to talk about art.”

Oliver said this as if it were the same as hiring an interior decorator to wallpaper the dining room. To him a need was always met by money. It was a way of life with him, and now as he put his mind to it, Alice knew he would find someone—even if he had to hire them—to come in and talk to Cara by the hour about art.

“I don’t think that’s possible. We don’t make friends like that.”

“Friends? What friendship could she have with a penniless artist who’s gone off the wrong end?”

“She’s still a young woman, and she enjoyed his company, Oliver. I don’t think you really grasp what a hard time Cara has—never seeing anybody except the family or Dr. McKenzie. I was excited for her when she got interested in Phil Winslow.”

“Excited?” Oliver turned quickly and his eyes narrowed. “What were you excited about? Surely you don’t think she could be interested in him as a suitor?”

“Why not? She’s only thirty-one. When she gets better she could marry and have a life.”

“We’ve talked about this before. She’ll never be better.”

Alice was hurt by her husband’s brusqueness and the hard edge to his voice. She could not understand it, for she had seen over the years that if Oliver was tender with anyone—other than herself—it was with Cara. Now as she thought about it, she finally decided to say something she had never dared to say. She turned around and took a deep breath, then said, “Oliver, I think you love Cara deeply, but sometimes we can even hurt those we love.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means sometimes we want to hold on to people, and by holding on to Cara, I think you’ve not let her—”

“That’s nonsense! Of course I love Cara! I love all my children, but she’s special. She’s not well, and I’m very protective.”

“I think you’re too protective of her. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a long time.” Alice stood up and went over to stand directly before Oliver. She was a small woman with mild blue eyes and a round face. She had always been completely dominated by her husband. A loving mother, she had tried to protect her children, but somehow she had become, even from their first days of marriage, so afraid of displeasing Oliver that she had caved in when he had treated the children roughly.

“I think we ought to try something different with Cara.”

“Another doctor? We’ve tried a dozen. McKenzie’s the best we’ve found.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean we ought to get her out of the house more. Let her get more involved in things like parties and shopping.”

“I’d be happy if only she were able, and as she improves—as I certainly hope she will—we will do that.” Oliver put his hands on his wife’s shoulders. He had not understood a word
she said and now added, “Naturally I love Cara. We both do, but we’ve got to protect her from herself.”

“I think sometimes, Oliver, she’d rather go out and have a few good times and die rather than stay secluded in that room for the rest of her life.”

Oliver was shocked. “What do you mean by that? That’s an awful thing to say!”

“Not awful at all. Which would you rather do? Have a short life where you at least get out and see people and flowers and excitement, or stay in a room for the rest of your life?”

“Not at all to the purpose, Alice! I’m surprised at you! Why, this is foolishness you’re talking!”

Ordinarily Alice Lanier would have immediately caved in, but she had become desperate over the past few months watching Cara, and she thought of her other children. “I’ve never spoken to you about this, but I think you’re unfair, especially to Clinton, but also to Mary Ann and Benji.”

Astonishment swept across Lanier’s face. He ran his hand over his iron gray hair, then shook his head in bewilderment. “What are you talking about? Why, I have provided everything for my children.”

“Everything but—”

“Everything but what?” Oliver demanded. “What is it you were going to say?”

“I don’t like to say this, Oliver.” Alice put her hand on his massive chest and looked up with apprehension in her eyes. “You’ve provided everything but love. You’re too hard on them, Oliver. You always have been. Oh, not on Bess and Bobby. You weren’t on the others either when they were small, but as soon as they started to grow up and tried to make lives for themselves, you’ve ruled them with an iron hand.”

Affronted to his heart, Oliver stared at Alice. Throughout their entire marriage, she had never dared challenge him on anything, and he was shocked. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me!”

“I don’t like saying it, but it’s true. Look at Clinton. Here
he is twenty-eight years old. You know he doesn’t really like the work in your office. He wants to do something else, something with his hands, something with machinery.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be wonderful! Instead of having a fine career for himself in one of the best brokerage firms in the country, he could be a mechanic, and I suppose you’d like for him to get one little room in a tenement house and starve to death.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. If you could just show a little interest in him and go to the races with him. Do something with him, Oliver. As far as I know, you haven’t done anything with Clinton since he was a boy.”

Her words stung, for they were true. Oliver blinked his eyes and his mouth tightened. “And where have I failed Mary Ann and Benji, now that you’ve decided to educate me.”

At that moment Alice knew that any more talk would be hopeless. He had closed his mind and heart, and she saw the blunt stubbornness on his face. Discouragement swept over her, and she said in almost a whisper, “Oliver, if you don’t learn to love your children, to be kinder to them and to enter into their lives—you’re going to lose them.” She turned away, leaving him staring at her as she walked to the window and stared outside.

Oliver had not been confronted like this for years. And to hear it from his own wife came as a terrible shock. He had taken pride in seeing that all of his children had the finest clothes that could be bought. Their rooms were well furnished, even luxurious, and they had the best medical care that could be provided. But now for the first time a small doubt suddenly touched his blunt spirit. And then a dart of fear pierced his stoic armor of control. It was not much, just a disturbing thought, but the idea of losing his family was the most frightening thing he could think of. For years he had felt that he was protecting them from their own foolishness, but now Alice’s words seemed to echo in his mind, and deep inside, something happened. He knew he would not forget
this conversation for weeks, or even months, try as he might. Still, he was a man of immense self-confidence.
I’ve done the right thing for my children,
he thought.
Alice is wrong. I’ll have to make her see it.

He went to bed that night and listened until his wife’s breathing revealed that she was asleep. Sleep did not come to him, however, and for what seemed to be hours he lay there holding himself still, thinking of what Alice had said. Finally he got up and went to stand beside the window. The fire had died and it was cold in the room, but he did not notice it. He thought of the time when he had taken Clinton to a circus when the boy was nine years old. He recalled how Clinton’s auburn hair had flashed in the sunlight as they approached the tent, his eyes shining with anticipation, and he remembered how Clinton had held on to his hand as he bought the tickets and they entered. He remembered so much of it that it surprised him—the aerialists flashing through the air in their silver costumes, the nine elephants rearing up in unison, and all the time Clinton talking constantly, his face alight with excitement.

Outside, the night was dark and the sky was dotted by a few feeble stars. Oliver stared at them blindly through the window, thinking of that trip to the circus so long ago. Try as he might, he could not remember another time after that when he was ever really close to his son. A heaviness fell upon him and sleep eluded him. Finally he dressed quietly and left the room. Stepping out of the house into the cold night air, he walked the grounds, trying to put aside what Alice had said. But as he thought of Cara lying in bed helpless, Alice’s words kept coming repeating in his mind. “I’m not keeping her back!” he muttered. “I want her to be well more than anything else.” But then the thought of her leaving came to him almost like the piercing of a sword, and the face of Philip Winslow came before him. Then he remembered how Cara’s eyes and face had lighted up when the young artist had been there.

“He’s no man for her,” Oliver said gruffly, “and that’s the end of it!” He turned and walked heavily back into the house, leaving the cold stars to glitter overhead so far away.

CHAPTER TEN

“Have You Ever Wanted a Man?”

Cara looked up from the paper she was reading, her eyes glowing. Charley had been lying at her feet, eyes closed and apparently asleep, but at her slight movement, he looked up, alertly cocking his ears and then speaking to her with a quick bark.

“Look here, Charley. . . .” Glad to be addressed by his beloved mistress, Charley jumped onto her lap and pushed aside the paper, raising his face close to hers. Cara stroked his silky fur but pushed his head away as he attempted to lick her nose in return. “If you’ll stop that long enough, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Let me read this to you.” Charley looked intently at her face, as though trying to understand her speech. When it became apparent to him that at least she was not going anywhere, he lay down on her lap and made himself comfortable.

“ ‘A show of some of the fledgling artists in the New York area will be held tomorrow, the sixth of March, at the Eighteenth Street gallery of George Maxim. Mr. Maxim has long been a supporter of what has been called, with some derision, the Ashcan School of painters, including such painters as Robert Henri, Everett Shinn, and George Luks. Mr. Maxim invites the public tomorrow to come and view this new movement in modern art. He especially emphasized that paintings by a brand-new artist, one just bursting upon the scene in our city, Mr. Phil Winslow, will be shown, and the artist himself will be present to speak to those interested in his work.’ ”

“Do you hear that, Charley? Phil’s going to have a show!” Sharing her pleasure, she hugged Charley until he struggled free, then again tried to lick her face.

“My face doesn’t need washing, Charley, but I believe yours does.”

Cara read the article several more times. Then, her excitement stirring, she suddenly stood, spilling Charley onto the floor. Scrambling to his feet, the spaniel gave her a startled glance, then wandered off to find a more secure place in which to continue his rest.

Cara paced around the room, exercising as best she could in the limited space of her bedroom. Her restlessness felt similar to that when the idea for a painting was beginning to take shape, but this was more urgent. An idea was forming, but doubts troubled her. As she paced, she dealt with them one by one, eyes narrowed, until she finally took a deep breath and headed out of her room.

At the end of the hall she knocked on Mary Ann’s door.

Mary Ann opened the door, still holding the thick book she had been reading, and exclaimed, “Why, Cara! Is something wrong? Don’t you feel well?”

“I feel well,” Cara said, stepping into the room, “but I’m having a strange thought. I may be losing my mind.”

“Oh, don’t be foolish. You’re the most sensible one in the whole house!” Mary Ann laughed. Then she saw the seriousness in her sister’s expression. “Come and sit down and tell me about it.”

“You won’t believe me,” Cara said slowly. “But I’m thinking of defying Father.” She looked up to catch the response from her younger sister and saw, with surprise, a pleased light had come into Mary Ann’s bright blue eyes. “You look happy about it. It’s not a nice thing to do, to deceive your parents.”

“It’s about time you broke out of the prison you’ve built for yourself,” Mary Ann said sharply. She was excited and leaned forward to squeeze Cara’s arm. “What are you going
to do, free yourself by burning down the house? I’ll get the matches.”

It was Cara’s turn to laugh. “Don’t be silly. It’s just . . . well . . . look at this.” She handed Mary Ann the paper, folded open to the article she had just been reading. She watched intently while Mary Ann read it, then continued. “I’m going to that show, Mary Ann, but you’ll have to help me.”

Mary Ann was willing to help her sister, even in something this hard. She loved her father, but it was a confining sort of love. She felt even more like a prisoner, if possible, than Cara, and now she whispered, as if Oliver Lanier were crouched outside the door with his ear to the keyhole. “What do you plan to do? How are you going to get there?”

“I want you to get Father’s permission to take me down to be photographed. He asked me to have a photographic portrait done some time ago, but I just haven’t felt like going. I don’t like having my picture taken.”

“That’ll be easy enough. I’ve heard him say several times he wants to have a large photograph of you. What do we do then?”

“Well, we’ll go and do exactly what I said, but after the sitting we’ll go see the new paintings.”

The two sat there making hurried plans. Both of them grew excited, and Mary Ann was thinking,
This is just the sort of thing Cara needs. She’s actually got some color in her cheeks and her eyes are sparkling.
Aloud she said, “What if we get caught?”