Beginning, Section II, Next Section
The ride was pleasant as we drove down to the city that I love. Downtown, historic Annapolis.
George brought me to Café Normandie, a small, French restaurant, located on the cobblestone Main Street.
The waiter guided us to a table in a comfortable, private corner of the restaurant. Light. I noticed the lack of light in the restaurant. The only light in our corner came from the soft glow of small candles that lay on top of a crisp, white tablecloth. I took in the sweet aroma of flowers that were beautifully arranged near us. Music. My ears recognized the mellow voice of Ella Fitzgerald singing to the soft chords and lovely rhythm of the piano.
This is my first affair.
Please be kind
Handle my heart with care
Please be kind
"Please sit down." George pulled the chair out for me. He was such a gentleman.
This is all so grand
My dreams are on parade
If you'll just understand
They'll never, never fade
"Welcome to Café Normandie. I am Gerard, your waiter for this evening. Can I get you or the lovely lady something to drink?" He handed us the menus.
George asked, "Do you have red wine?"
So tell me your love's sincere
Please be kind
Tell me I needn't fear
Please be kind
"Yes we do. Would you like some?" George nodded his head
'Cause if you leave me dear,
I know my heart - will lose its mind
If you love me
Please be kind.*
I noticed everything around me. My senses were delighted.
Candles glowing in the darkness. Smooth, relaxing music in the background. Wine. And to top it all off a fine looking gentleman sitting across from me. The combination was wonderfully romantic. The setting for a perfect evening.
The anger I possessed earlier was forgotten. It was erased from my memory.
"George, this place is wonderful!"
"I am glad you like it." He smiled at me.
The waiter came around again and we ordered our food. Everything looked tempting, so it took me a while to decide. I had heard this was a really great restaurant. I scanned the prices. A little expensive for a first date. Would he pay for it all? I decided not to ask. I would just wait until dinner was over.
After the waiter left there was an awkward pause. I decided that it would be a good time for us to learn more about each other, so I took the initiative.
"So, George tell me about yourself. You come off as rather mysterious, you know." I grinned. "I only know you as the rather handsome gentleman with an adorable British accent who somehow showed up at my father's funeral, rescued me from my stupidity when I locked my keys in the car, and drove me home away from a rather dreary situation..."
"Is my accent really that adorable?"
"Hmmm...maybe you should talk more and I will decide." I shot him a playful smile.
"And like I said before, locking your keys in the car was not stupid. Plus," he hesitated, "I am glad that I was able to drive you home..." He looked at me. Gorgeous...
Okay. Okay. Have to get back in control.
"Anyway, tell me about yourself. Let me hear that accent of yours!" He smiled. "I gather you are from England."
"Yes. I was born and raised English."
"Are you from Derbyshire? That is where I believed my father said he was from. Is that where your father met mine?"
"Yes, I am from Derbyshire. I suppose they met there, my father never told me. But, I would assume. So, have you ever been over there?"
"No. I have not had the good fortune to be able to go there. My father did not ever seem interested in going back. He did have a wonderful accent. I wonder why he did not tell us much about his life there..." Then it hit me again. I could no longer talk about England and my father. Isn't that what I was trying to avoid tonight? Everything I talked about seemed to be linked to him in some way. I felt warm and uncomfortable. I promised that I would not ruin this evening by wishing these past few months had never occurred, but I could not do it. I turned away.
"I am sorry." I was embarrassed.
"Don't be. I am sorry that I brought back the memories. Are you all right?"
"I am fine, really. Please continue."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I want to know. Please tell me. And, I do love hearing that accent." He smiled.
"All right, if you insist. Talking about home is not a tedious task whatsoever; actually, it is quite enjoyable. I could speak about Derbyshire for hours. Derbyshire is the most beautiful part of the England. It may not have the flashy charms of London or any other city, but it is offers superb company and delightful people. I believe it is the most peaceful place in all of England. I loved to take walks there. The woods are so beautiful around the area my family lived in. If you ever have the fortune to visit, you absolutely must visit Derbyshire." He had a far off look in his eyes as he sighed.
"I confess it does sound tempting. I love walking and the sight you describe seems so grand. My father must have loved it there. I wonder why he left." My father loved nature and walks. His favorite book was Walden by Thoreau. I wondered why a man like my father would leave a place that seemed like his ideal. Maybe he had little choice in the matter.
"I am afraid I don't have that information for you. My father never said anything about his departure."
"George, if you loved it there so much why did you leave?"
"I had a few family problems...my brother and I got into a disagreement. I could not live there anymore. I could not face...Anyway, I moved here and joined the Navy."
"I am sorry about your family problems." I did not think he could get into a disagreement with anyone. "You have a brother?"
"Yes, actually I have three other siblings. I have a younger brother, younger sister, and an older half-sister."
"Do you miss them?" After I asked the question, I regretted it. I should not have asked about his family when a disagreement with his family had led to his departure from England.
"Of course I do. Do not trouble yourself about the question." How did he know what I was thinking? "I love my family. I just needed to get away for a little bit."
"So you came over to the United States and later joined the Navy?"
"Yes Ma'am," he saluted. So he was a man in uniform as well.
"So, Elizabeth, now that you know a bit about me, tell me about yourself."
"Well, I am from Baltimore and my father owns...I mean...owned a bookshop downtown where I sometimes manage things to an extent. I am a law student at Georgetown University, but I have put that on hold for a bit to take care of my mother."
"Do you work?"
"Actually, I do. I work in DC as a waitress and...sometimes as a singer."
"Really? Maybe I can hear you sing one time?" He asked shyly.
"Maybe..."
Soon the food arrived. We did not talk much because eating prevented us from conversing. The food was delicious. The waiter came around with the bill and I offered to pay, but George paid for it all. As we got up I though the evening was over. It was only nine o'clock. I did not know whether or not we were going to do something afterwards.
"Thank you for everything."
"Wait, Lizzy, I don't know if you want to, but will you walk with me? It is still early and Annapolis offers some wonderful views." How could I refuse?
After we left Café Normandie, George looked at me animatedly.
"Come on! I want to show you something." He told me that there was something he wanted to show me down near the Dock.
We walked down Main Street passing by old-fashioned looking shops. Everything about downtown reminds me of a simpler time. The houses. The style. The atmosphere.
We were about to cross a busy section of the street, and suddenly George grabbed my hand and we crossed the street. He did not let go when we reached the other side. He smiled at me.
"You should never cross a busy street without holding someone's hand," he said.
George's hand. It felt warm. I felt comfortable holding George's hand. I felt a sensation run up my arm when George held it, but I could not help thinking that his touch did not just send a sensation through my arm, but a pleasant shock through my entire body. The grasp of his hand made me feel more. His was a tender touch. I liked how George held my hand, but I loved how he held my hand.
As we reached City Dock, past the Market Place and the Summer Garden House Theatre, George said, "I want to show you something. It is great here. Close your eyes and trust me."
I trusted him. He took my hand again, and he led me to this "great place." As we passed the flow of people that brushed passed us he gently grabbed hold of my waist and steered me steadily. I heard people uttering amused sighs and envious whispers. They were jealous of me because I was having the date of my dreams. I smiled contentedly and kept my eyes closed. Finally, we got there and I heard George's pleasant voice once again.
"Open your eyes." He pointed out to the bay. The sight was magnificent. I was filled with awe as I looked at the view in front of me. The sky was painted in different dark and light shades of purples and reds over the waters. Twilight time.
Where had he brought me? I moved away from his partial embrace and looked behind me in an attempt to find out where we were. He had taken me to a more secluded part of the Dock. We were away from the bustle of downtown, but this place also offered a wonderful view of the city and the Bay.
The city was preparing for night to cover its darkness upon it. Streetlights lit up. The Maryland flag flew over the "acorn" on top of the Capital Building. The dome seemed to glow. The bells from the steeples of St. Ann's on Church Circle and St. Mary's near Spa Creek began to ring sweetly notifying the people that it was getting late. Shops began to close, while restaurants and bars began to fill. People were everywhere. Sleepy children and their parents on their way home from the ice cream parlor. Tourists departing from their visit to the Naval Academy or the other historic sites that Annapolis offers. Young friends off in search of a good time. Lovers walking together hand in hand around the dock. There I was. Another person in the crowd taking time to look out. Taking time to observe.
I turned my attention once again to the man that stood next to me.
"Everything is so...it's breathtaking." I managed to say.
"Yes, it is beautiful." Then, he looked at me. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" His voice was rich and clear, but I was only reminded of a richer, clearer voice that spoke those same words to me in this city before.
I tried to shake my heads from those thoughts. I kept telling myself, "This is now Lizzy, not then. The past is in the past. Move on." I answered him.
"No, you haven't, Mr. Wickham, but I wouldn't mind if you did mention it," I replied.
"Well, Miss Bennett you look absolutely stunning tonight!" He smiled at me. We took a seat on a wooden bench that faced the bay.
Close. We sat close to each other. He moved closer. I looked at him timidly and I got up. I walked towards the end of the pier and leaned on one of the wooden pillars. I looked out to the Bay. I saw a sailboat gliding across the water probably heading back to its home in the dock for the night. The wind. The sailboat's large, white sails billowed out as a strong, but gentle wind pushed though. The wind. The breeze traveled towards me. My unruly locks would not stay in place and they were blown around my face.
I felt his gaze upon me. He had been staring at me for the longest time. I heard a rustle behind me. George stood up and came towards me. I turned to look at him.
I don't really remember his features clearly. I only remember certain things about him. I allowed myself to forget a lot. But, I remember those certain heavenly things. His uniqueness. His gestures. Only parts of his character and his body that were so distinctive. As I looked at George I could not help but compare him with the man of my memories. George's features were so different from his gorgeous features. His were so much darker, that I remember. George's light brown hair could never compare to his black locks. Suddenly, I remembered how my hand used to shift gently through that soft hair. George's crystal baby blue eyes are so different from his dark, expressive eyes. And George's lips can't compare... No! I promised I would not do this. I shook my head again. "This is now! There is another gorgeous man in front of you!"
George looked at me. I scanned his face again. He was so handsome. I watched as he lifted his hand from its limp position at his side to push my hair away from my face. I felt a tingle where his hand had brushed my skin. I could not keep my eyes from him. He was so close. I felt...I don't know what I felt. I was confused.
"You really look lovely, Elizabeth," he said in a more serious tone. He moved closer. His face was in front of mine. I held my breath.
I felt a shock of surprise when George's tempting, red lips were pressed against my own. I closed my eyes.
He was kissing me.
Oh my. It was unusually warm for late November.
He was kissing me, and it felt good. A warm sensation surged within me. My mind was spinning.
Yet, I could not erase the memory of another man who had kissed me here before.
No! I was not going to do this!
No. No. No.
I heard George speaking again. He was still holding me close. "Please go out with me again, Elizabeth. Tonight has been so wonderful. Please."
I was so glad that I decided to forgive him and that I had allowed him to take me out. Would I turn him down after such a pleasant evening? No. Not after that kiss.
I felt something there. I felt that something wonderful could come out of this. I liked him. Maybe too much. Maybe too quickly. Maybe, I trusted him too much. But, I was swept off my feet.
"Yes, George I will go out with you again," I was able to mutter as I parted from his warm embrace.
My heart was cautioning me. "Be careful." I remembered the lyrics of the song at the restaurant:
Handle my heart with care
Please be kind
I let George into my heart. I thought silently to myself, "Yes, George, I will definitely go out with you again, but please be kind. Do handle my heart with care. I don't know if my heart can be let down again."
I touched the pendant. I have to overcome this.
You.
My first love.
The cause of my broken heart.
I was frightened. Scared. Afraid. I did not want to get hurt again.
I was afraid of heartache. I had already learned how painful it could be.
* Please Be Kind by Cahn/Chaplin as sung by Ella Fitzgerald.
I came home feeling so light. I was up in the clouds feeling wonderful.
Wonderful. Everything was wonderful. Fabulous. Romantic. Wonderful. My date with George. The whole thing - beginning, middle, and end. I felt that I could have repeated that night a million times over.
After the walk around the dock (and the thrilling kiss), we bought some ice cream at Storm Brothers and talked. I told him more about myself and I learned more about him. I thought he was a man of such perfection.
I was falling.
The night was coming to an end. Too soon.
We walked to the car, got in, looked at each other, and smiled. We knew something about being together was just unmistakably wonderful. Both of us. He kissed me again. When we parted, he started the car and we left for my apartment. His hand slid over mine as we exited to the beltway, and his hand did not leave mine until he parked the car again.
Like a gentleman, he walked me to my building.
"Lizzy, I have really enjoyed tonight." He smiled at me.
"George, I really have to thank you tonight was the most wonderful evening I have had in ages and I would not mind repeating it again." I smiled at him.
"Well, I better get going..." He was right. It was getting late. I glanced at my watch.
"Yes..." I sighed. I was a little disappointed. I did not want this to end.
He was staring at me. I turned away from his stare to look for my keys to the building, but I still felt his gaze upon me. I turned to look at him. I was a little surprised because he was right in front of me. He was so close.
Close. Next thing I knew he was kissing me. I felt the sensation again. As we parted, I heard him whisper, "Call me Lizzy."
"Okay..."
That is all I could say. A simple "okay." He waved and then began to walk back to his car.
I fumbled with my keys and ran up to the apartment. I opened the door to find Jane and her date, Charlie, on the couch laughing hysterically. I was so happy for Jane. She has not laughed nor smiled this much in a long time. I looked at the two. Charlie was really right for her. Charlie got close to Jane ready to pull her in for an embrace, but the sound of the door closing caught their attention.
They jumped up. Surprised.
"Oh, Lizzy! You are back!" She and Charlie were still trying to regain their composure.
Oh drat my awful timing!
"Hello, Jane. Charlie."
They recovered from their embarrassment, talked to them for a little while. Friendly chatter to pass the awkward moments by. Then to make up for my awful sense of when to enter, I left them.
"Jane, I am a little tired." Actually, after a night like that night...not really.
"Nice meeting you, Charlie. Hope to see you soon?" I winked at him.
He answered in the affirmative, and smiled turning to Jane once again. After he looked at her, I do not think they even noticed me leaving the room.
I sat in my room reminiscing about my wonderful evening. Wondering about my sister's evening as I heard them in the other room. Talking. Laughing. Other things? Falling for each other. At least, I hope.
I heard the closing of the front door, and I left my room to see Jane.
She stood with her eyes closed and her back to the door sighing contentedly.
"Jane?"
"Oh, Lizzy! Lizzy! Could nothing else be more remarkable?"
"Tell me everything! I see that glow in your eyes! Your night must have been as wonderful as mine."
"Oh yes! I will definitely give you details...but you must tell me about your night!"
"I believe he has swept you off your feet, Jane."
"Possibly..."
And so continued a night of sisterly chat.
For Gabby. Thanks for your help.
The next day, I got a phone call. It was Kimmie. Kimmie works with me at The Blue Spot, the jazz club and restaurant I work at.
"Lizzy, how are you?"
"Not bad. Feeling better."
"I am glad. Listen, I know you are on vacation for the...circumstances, but I really need to ask a favor from you. Leah, that wonderful singer Jimmy found for us, can't make it on Tuesday and Thursday."
"Oh no! Why not? I hope she is okay."
"She is going to France that day.
"Lucky girl."
"Yeah, you are telling me. If I could only go to France...Anyway, that is besides the point, Chris and Marks can't find any one else." Chris and Marks owned The Blue Spot.
"Have you asked Tiki, Meghan, or Melissa? Maybe they know someone." Tiki and Meghan also work with me. Melissa comes to The Blue Spot often.
"I did. They didn't know anyone who could sing those nights. So, Lizzy, can you make it?"
"I don't know."
"Please. Lizzy, Chris said he will pay you double for the gig."
"Double?"
"Yes."
"I am not doing anything those nights...I guess I can. Yes, all right, I will."
"Thank you so much! Marks and Chris will just love you for doing this!"
"Yeah, they better!"
"So I will see you on Tuesday then?"
"Sure. I will see you then."
"Thank you! By the way, I know you can bring the house down with that voice of yours, Lizzy. You are great! "
"No problem"
So I was starting my life up again. Maybe it was better this way.
Music. Jazz. Mellow Jazz. Sentimental music. Lyrics that flow off the page and into your heart.
I love it.
Father played it often. It was his music. He said it reminded him of his youth. Of simpler days.
I love to sing it. I love expressing myself through song. I just do.
Working at The Blue Spot had been one of the only activities that could keep me from dwelling on more somber thoughts the last few months.
I had not gone to work in two weeks, because...because of the ostensible reason.
"Hello Lizzy! Thank God you could make it tonight!" Chris greeted me enthusiastically.
"Jennifer is waiting for you behind the stage."
"Okay. Thanks."
"There is quite a crowd here tonight. It is a good thing you arrive," Jennifer said.
"I think your sister is out there," Andrea said.
"Really? She did not tell me she was coming."
"Well, that is her. She is sitting next to a rather handsome guy."
"Jane? Let me take a look."
"Lizzy, you go on in a minute. You might not have time, but you can see them while you are on stage. They are in the right corner."
"Sure." I wondered if that was Charlie she brought with her. It must be.
I took a deep breath and stepped out on stage.
"Tonight we have the wonderful Lady Lizzy to sing for you tonight. Her she is...Elizabeth Bennett!"
Applause.
I looked in the corner and, surely enough, there was Jane and Charlie. I smiled.
"Thank you everyone. The first number I will do tonight is for all of you romantics out there. Here is "The Man I Love."
Someday he'll come along
The man I love;
And he'll be big and strong,
The man I love;
And when he comes my way
I'll do my best to make him stayHe'll look at me and smile,
I'll understand
And in a little while
He'll take my hand;
And though it seems absurd,
I know we both won't say a wordMaybe I shall meet him Sunday,
Maybe Monday
Maybe not;
Still I'm sure to meet him some day,
Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day.He'll build a little home. Just meant for two
From which I'll never roam
Who would, would you?
And so all else above
I'm waiting for the man I love.*
I sang to the slow, rich background music. Imagining that I was Lady Day herself. Closing my eyes. Not seeing the audience in front of me. I was lifted by the melody.
The man I love. My dream.
I finished my song. Opened my eyes. Smiled.
Applause.
After I had finished, I ran over to Jane and Charlie.
"Jane! Jane! Charlie! What are you doing here? You surprised me!"
"I told Charles that you worked here and that you were singing tonight. He was going to take me out anyway, and he wanted to hear you so..."
"I brought her here! Wonderful job, Lizzy. You have a talented and beautiful voice."
"Thank you."
"You know I like Jazz myself."
"Really?"
"Actually..."
"Lizzy! We need you over here for a minute." It was Tiki.
"Sorry. Don't go though! I will be back in a flash!"
"Sure."
When I returned, Jane and Charlie were sitting cozily together in their corner table. As I approached them Charlie whispered something that made her laugh. They are so good for each other. He saw me and once again whispered something in my sister's ear.
"What secrets are you hiding from me, Jane?"
"Nothing." She smiled. "Charles was just reminding me of something. I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you!"
"What is it, Jane?"
"Lizzy, the hospital is having a Christmas Benefit Ball. Please come. Charles and I are part of the planning committee. Both of us are inviting friends." She handed me an invitation. I took the envelope from her hands.
"It will be wonderful!"
"Yes, please come, Lizzy," Charlie asked.
"I will think about it, Jane."
"Good then!"
"Charlie and I have to go, but I will see you at home. Okay?"
"Sure. Have a great time!"
"Oh, we will!"
Everything just seems to be going so well. Finally. Now if only I could find the man I love. When will he come? Or has he?
* "The Man I Love" by Gershwin-Gershwin.
A week had passed and it was Friday once again. I could not and did not greet this Friday with the warmth, the excitement, or the happiness I felt only seven days ago when George Wickham came groveling on his knees to my door, begging me to forgive him for being so late for our date. Rather, I faced this day somberly and quietly. Thoughtfully.
I did not welcome this day, for what was happening meant only one thing - my father was dead.
A will. A will is a document. A piece of paper. A paper stating to whom ones earthly possessions will be passed on to after one had died, after one had gone.
My father was dead; my father was gone.
This was a truth that I had not yet learned to accept. A truth that I wished from the bottom of my heart to be false. Today's event was only a reminder of how real that truth was: The reading of father's will.
Jane sat next to me as we drove back to our parents' home, but we hardly spoke one word to each other the whole way. Both of us were, I supposed, thinking about our situation at present, about what the future would bring, and, most of all, thinking about father.
Preoccupied. My mind was preoccupied. I spent the entire drive in deep meditation. The future seemed so uncertain, and I knew that today's reading was vital in dictating in which direction the future would go.
I tried to think optimistically. Maybe our situation was not as bad as we believed it to be. I tried to think this. I tried desperately, but I could not. In the back of my mind, I could not help thinking that today's reading would change our lives drastically. The question that racked my nerves was: How would it change our lives drastically? In what way? Good or bad?
With financial problems looming above us, I did not assume anything. I prayed for the good, but I knew the facts and things did not look good. The fact was that Papa was never a rich man. As far as all of us knew, he was a lucky orphan who defeated the odds to become an educated bookstore owner. We had enough money to thrive throughout these past years, but we never really had the excess cash some fortunate families do. So what could I expect to inherit? I knew that I should not expect any surprises. I knew that father did not have much to pass on except for the things he worked the hardest for in life - Bennett Books and the house on Longbourn Street. The house would provide mother and my youngest sisters shelter and comfort until the bills to maintain the house would become too high to pay. Bennett Books had struggled financially in the past few years. Popular chain bookstores took away many of my father's customers with their lower prices and fancy cafes. The only reason it had survived so long, I concluded, was because of the mysterious donations of money to the store. So, unless the donator decided to contact us, I predicted more problems.
I knew that I could not expect large amounts of money to assist us in the coming years. I doubt we will even receive more than $ 5,000. Large amounts of money. The question of the mysterious donations remained unanswered. I was baffled. I could not think of anyone who would donate such large sums of money to us, so generously and so secretly. It was a puzzle that plagued my thoughts night and day. Who was this donator? Did I even know them?
We arrived at the house early. It was so quiet. How odd. My mother, especially, was unusually reserve - a very rare occurrence. And yet, I could not welcome this stillness.
I remembered numerous times when all I wished for, when I visited home, was some peace and quiet. For once it was silent. And, the silence that I often longed for became unbearable. It felt too abnormal. It was out of place, and it made me feel uncomfortable.
Patiently we waited.
Finally, I heard the familiar sound of a car engine outside. I looked out of the window and saw two men get out of a black car. The doorbell rang.
My mother opened the door. The two men stood in front of us. One was considerably younger than the other one, but there was a striking resemblance between the two. The older one's features were very much like the younger one's, but were obviously tinted with the grays and whites that come with age. I assumed they were related.
The older man approached my mother.
"Hello, Mrs. Bennett."
"Yes, I am Mrs. Bennett, Mr...?"
"Mr. Brennean...Mr. Claude Brennean, Ma'am. How do you do?" He spoke in a distinct British accent.
"I am doing as well as I can be, sir." She looked in the direction of the man standing behind him. "And, who might this be?"
"This is my son," he turned in the direction of the man that began to introduce himself to us.
"How do you do, Mrs. Bennett. I am Britt Brennean," he paused then continued, "I was your late husband's lawyer."
"Nice to meet you. Please come in. Lizzy, Jane please show these men into the living room."
"These are my daughters. Jane. Elizabeth. Mary. Kitty. Lydia. Poor dears! Without a father!" The younger Brennean looked at her sympathetically.
"Mrs. Bennett, we offer are deepest condolences. Your husband was a good man...I did not know anyone who was a kinder and better friend...I am sorry," he said with genuine sadness. Curiously enough, for me, he seemed as if he had more to say. Wished to say more but was in some way unable to.
Was. The past tense. My father would be described in the past tense from now on.
"Thank you."
My mind suddenly realized something. How did Mr. Brennean know my father was a good man? A kinder and better friend? How well did he know my father? Funny, I thought, my father never mentioned him before and he told us frequently that he did not have any more close acquaintances than the circle of friends we always see during the holidays.
I thought I should investigate further.
"Did you know my father very well, sir?"
"Um...er...Yes...We knew each other in England. I was his lawyer until I retired a few years ago." He looked uncomfortable and gave a sideways glance to his son. Trying to get his attention.
"Really? You knew him in England?" I persisted.
"Yes." I awaited a more detailed response, but he turned away. That was all he replied. A simple "yes." I hoped that he would turn around and add on to the "yes," but he did not.
I wanted to ask him how my father lived in England - Papa never told us about it at all - but I decided against it. I observed that Mr. Brennean seemed to regret it bringing up and looked rather nervous.
The younger Brennean got up.
He was a tall man. I observed him. He could not be more than 25. He was a very attractive man with brown hair and expressive blue eyes behind the simple frames of glasses. He had that "smart" yet charming look about him.
Britt Brennean, sensing his father's discomfort whispered something to his father, and the older man seemed to relax a bit. Then he gave me a look.
What was going on? What did I do?
He looked at me with his deep blue eyes. They seemed to entreat me not to mention England any further. Quickly, he turned from my direction and proceeded to talk to my mother.
"Well then, shall we start the reading?" He carried his briefcase into the dinning room, and pulled several papers out of it.
"...To my dear wife, Patricia Bennett, I bequeath the house on Longbourn Street, which has been paid in full. May it provide my widow and my children, until they are ready to live on their own, with a comfortable home, as it has for the past years."
My mother started crying at the mention of her name. Jane handed her a tissue.
"I leave my bookstore, Bennett Books, to my children. It is theirs to control and manage if they so desire. My daughter Mary, who has often expressed a wish to one day be the head of Bennett Books, will become the head, if she decides to take the offer after the completion of her college education. If by her 25th birthday, May 17, 20--, she has not decided to take this offer, provided that she has found another job to occupy her time the bookstore will be passed on. If the family has abandoned it, and leadership and ownership of the bookstore will be the responsibility of Fredrick Collins..."
Mary was stunned. Father did listen to her ideas. She loved books with the passion Father possessed, and even if she did not think he noticed it, father did. I thought about father's decision to possibly pass the bookstore to Freddie and frowned. Of all people! Did he really think that we would abandon it?
"...I leave $4,000 each for Mary, Lydia, and Catherine to help with, and, help only with, unless a serious situation arises which Elizabeth and Jane will decide upon, the payment of their college education... I leave $10,000 each for Jane and Elizabeth... I leave $20,000 for my widow's expenses in the coming years. And, upon the marriage of any of my daughters, they will each receive another added amount of money which will be decided at that time..."
The rest of the will fazed me. I thought I heard the name Wickham, but I must have been wrong. I should have paid more attention. After Mr. Brennean mentioned the amount of money each of us were to receive - an amount that surpassed all my expectations I was dazed. That was a total of $42,000, and it did not include the money to be given to us upon marriage or the other things said in the will. We had an inheritance?
That is a great sum of money...
Britt Brennean, obviously noticing my puzzlement, gave me a look saying: "It will be explained later." He turned away before anyone else noticed his gaze.
"...Mr. Bennett wrote letters to all of his family members which he intended to be given to you all at the end of his life." He distributed the white envelopes with my father's handwriting upon it. "I will give you all a few days to look over the letters. May I schedule another meeting with you in a week?"
My mother, who was crying hysterically as she received the letter, nodded in the affirmative.
"Thank you so much, Sir."
"You are welcome, Ma'am," he looked in the direction of Jane and myself. "May I please see your two elder daughters alone?"
She gave him a look of surprise then exclaimed through her sobs, "Yes! Why of course! You can go into the library."
Jane and I, puzzled, followed him into the room. He then turned to both of us.
"Miss Bennetts, your father's last request was only directed to the two of you. He wished us to talk in private."
Overcome with curiosity, I began. "Mr. Brennean, I don't understand...where did this money come from?"
"Miss Bennett, yes, I noticed your confusion. That question will be answered later, but right now I must speak to you about your father's final request. He requested and entreated my father and I to come and convince you both of the importance that lay in the letters."
Jane spoke, "The importance, Sir?"
"Yes, you see. You have much to learn... and he is not pushing you to follow what is in the letter...but you simply must... must claim responsibilities for...for..." he stopped abruptly. "I am sorry. You probably do not understand what I am saying. But I know your father would want...he truly desired...Just...Please read the letters."
"Sir," I asked, "You must know the contents of the letters, why can you not just tell us? How well did you know my father? Apparently your father knows more about our father than we could ever imagine."
"Miss Bennett, Elizabeth, your father requested that you, especially you, fulfill the tasks in that letter. He wanted you the discover the...truth...on your own."
Truth?
"I don't understand..."
"Please let me continue. As to his relationship with my father. You will discover that as well. On your own. As your father would have liked it. Please do not deny him of this final request."
"Mr. Brennean..."
"Please call me Britt."
"Yes, then Britt what are we discovering, as you say."
"Read the letters and you will find out. Expect to see me soon, Miss Bennett."
"Call me Elizabeth."
"And call me Jane, Please."
"Elizabeth, Jane, then, expect to see me. I have to go now. I fear my father is getting tired. Goodbye. But please consider carefully what is written in those letters. It will determine your future."
Determine my future?
With that, he left us in the library alone. We heard the engine of the car start once again. I looked at Jane. She was obviously as perplexed as I was.
"What could this possibly mean?"
I glanced at the envelop in my hand. Suddenly, frightened.
The shock subsided enough for Jane and I to regain our senses and we departed to our own private hideaways to read our letters. I ran to my sanctuary and tore open the envelope. As I opened the crisply folded pages, something fell towards the ground. In my anticipation, I did not bother picking it up. I just read.
My dearest daughter Elizabeth,Lizzy, I know that if you are reading this I am no longer with you physically on earth. But, my dear, know that I am always with you.
I know that these last few months have been torturous, and I am sorry that they have brought so much pain. I wish it were not this way. I am sorry. I know that you are hurting now, Elizabeth. I know that you are hurting, but please do not grieve too long. Know that you are not alone. Don't shut out the world in times of trouble, as you are prone to do. Move on and live. I do not want you to live your life wallowing in sadness. You were not meant for a life of sorrow. You are to be happy. Enjoy life, my child, while you can...
I am so proud to be your father. I am so proud to be able to call you my daughter. I find myself in awe of you - when I see what a wonderful, beautiful, accomplished woman my little girl has turned into. A woman I am so proud of. I remember you as a young child, not so long ago. Your big, bright eyes used to look at the world with such curiosity and amazement. A lot has changed since then. I cannot believe it was that long ago! Where did the time go? Yet some things have not changed about you. You were and still are intelligent and determined to achieve your goals. These traits were the characteristics that I admired in you. They are also the characteristics you will need to fulfill my final request - to find out what I, cowardly as I was, could not bring myself to tell.
Elizabeth, enclosed is a ticket to England. Go back to my birthplace and discover what I should have revealed. What you have known about my life is not what it seemed. What was my life will be revealed to you (if you go) on your journey to England, as you find out more on your own. This is my final request. If you decide to go, you will learn more through a "game" I have constructed. As you "play along" you will receive clues. All this will be explained by my lawyer, Britt Brennean, and his father, my dear friend and your guide (if you go), Claude Brennean. Matters have all been settled with them. Claude is a dear friend of mine that I trust. I hope you will learn to trust him too.
I have told Jane, and Jane only, of this "game." I believe that it is best if your mother and your younger sisters do not get involved - until truth is revealed. Jane is not to go with you unless you feel that her company is absolutely necessary. I believe she should stay if you are away. Jane does have a way to deal with you mother's "poor nerves" quite well, I dare say...
Lizzy, do not just do this to follow me. Do this for yourself, your sisters, and your mother. If you decide to take up my request, I would like to give you a personal word of warning of the troubles you are apt to face. Above all, I would like to warn you to stay away from Joseph Whitford or any relation to him. PLEASE. Finally, if you do learn what I wanted you to seek and discover, please do not be mad at me for making my own decisions. I know that you do not understand a word that I have penned in this last paragraph now, but you will soon - hopefully.
I know that you are worried Lizzy. But please heed my final request. I know all will be well eventually. Please be strong for your mother's and your sisters' sake. I believe that you can and will make it through this and any situation you face in life. Elizabeth, I believe in you.
Before I conclude, I want you to remember that I have never regret any decision I have made in my life. You, Jane, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and your mother are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much. Lizzy, please take care of them, and know that I am always here for you.
Always,
Father
I was stunned beyond expression.
I picked the "something" that had fallen earlier up.
A ticket to England.
What is going on?
Utter and total chaos broke out in my brain.
"What you have known about my life is not what it seemed."
What was your life, father? The questions made my head spin.
The possibilities.
"What was my life will be revealed to you (if you go) on your journey to England, as you find out more on your own. This is my final request."
Of course, I would not deny him his final request. I looked at the ticket, dried my tears, and ran back to the house.
Jane was equally startled and confused, but she believed that I should go to England. She said that she had every confidence that I could solve this mystery. We decided that matters should be settled as quickly and as clandestinely as possible. As soon as we got back to our apartment I called the Brenneans up and we planned to meet with Britt Brennean and his father for dinner the next day.
As soon as I hung up the phone, I began to ring. It was George.
"Hello, darling."
"Hello, George."
"What's the matter? Why do you sound so glum?"
"It is nothing..."
"Wait a minute... Today was your father's will reading, right?"
"Yeah."
"I am sorry...so..." He ventured to ask something, but stopped.
"No, we didn't really receive anything." I refrained myself, with much difficulty, from telling this kind man all my troubles. I seemed to have offended him with my interruption.
"No! I don't care whether or not you did...I mean... no, that is not what I was going to ask you."
"I am sorry. That was just the first thing that came into my head."
"Lizzy, it would not matter to me if you had one penny left in your bank. I don't care about what you did get."
"I am sorry, I didn't mean to assume or jump to conclusions. What were you going to ask? "
"It's okay... I was just wondering just how are you coping..."
"I am fine," I lied.
"I know that is not true. But, if you were up for it I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow night."
"Sorry, George I am busy. I have Monday and Sunday is not free either..."
"That's okay, babycakes. Maybe we will meet sometime during the week ... You will call me if you are free, right Lizzy?" He sounded so hopeful.
"Of course I will, sweetie."
"Well, I have got to go. Talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay. Bye."
I could not help but sigh.
If you asked me where George and I stood in our relationship, I don't think I could answer clearly. There were only two things I did know about our relationship. I was attracted to him not only for his physical attributes but also for his sincere and caring manner. He was sweet and lovable. Loveable. I knew that I did not love him yet, but I knew that I may be well on my way to loving him. Well on my way.
~That Saturday evening~
Jane and I met the Brenneans at a small restaurant in DC. We ordered then discussed the matter at hand.
"So you have read the letters." We both nodded in the affirmative.
"But," I began, "Father wrote such an ambiguous message that I did not know what to think. What does all of this mean?"
What does all of this mean? A question that has plagued my thought for the last day.
I wanted answers.
"What do you make of it, Elizabeth. Does your meeting with us ensure that you will attempt to fulfill your father's last wish?"
"Of course we will...How can we refuse?"
Then Claude Brennean smiled. "See my boy, I told you she would listen!" How could they smile? My patience was running low.
"Sir, Mr. Brennean, please tell us what this is all about! What is my father's plan? What is his intention? What is his secret! You know and yet you will not tell me!" Jane looked at me beckoning me to refrain from losing my temper.
"Lizzy, calm down. I am sure they will explain."
"I understand why you are so anxious, Elizabeth and Jane. It is true I do know," Britt spoke, "but your father has requested that you find out yourself."
"So I must go to England?"
"Yes."
"What is the purpose? What will I gain?"
"You will gain a lot my dear," the elder Brennean said. "I know things are hard on you right now, but in the end all will be right."
In the end all will be right
How does everyone but me know that everything will turn out right? How do they know?
I felt like crying in frustration and anger.
"You are to finish this year at school and will go to England this summer. Your father has arrangements made there."
"What of this 'game father speaks of?'"
"Ah, the game. He has arranged that you receive a series of letters. Before you go to England you will be given a letter instructing you where to go and what to do. Then, when you the place indicated in the first letter, you will receive another letter. It is a hunt. A puzzle really. A clue for a find."
"Why couldn't he just have told us? Would that not have been easier?" I sighed.
"He thought it would be best if you found out on your own. He was afraid of what you might think of him if he told you personally."
What did father do that was so awful? What is he so ashamed of? Why didn't he tell me? I was afraid of what I might find out.
"What of this man Joseph Whitford?"
"Joseph Whitford was an acquaintance of your father that did him much wrong. He was the one mentioned in the will."
So it was Whitford not Wickham.
"Is he a dangerous man?" Jane was worried.
"We are not sure. No one has heard from him in years."
"Your father just issued a warning as a precaution, but do not worry we will keep you safe," Britt Brennean assured me.
We made other arrangements to meet as it was getting late. This meeting did not really answer my questions, but it satisfied me for now.
As Jane and I departed for the door, Claude Brennean stopped me.
"Elizabeth! Wait!"
He caught up with us.
"I forgot to give this to you. I thought you should have it. Your father put it in my care years ago. Maybe it will help you for now."
He took the small package and gave it to me.
"What is this?"
"Just open it."
Britt looked at his father and whispered, "Are you sure that it was wise to give them that?"
His father nodded. "It is truly theirs."
I thanked him and we left.
"What could this be?"
As Jane and I drove back to our apartment, we rode together in silence once again. I needed time to absorb all the information we had just received in the past two days.
So many mysteries.
I glanced at the package that lay in my lap.
The prospect of its contents both thrilled me and frightened me. But who could blame me for being afraid? I had found out so much in the past few days - information I desperately wanted and did not want to know. I felt that now I did not know anything about my father - the man I thought I knew the best.
The car was finally parked. Jane looked at me, and then both of us quickly ran up the steps to our apartment. As soon as the door opened, I set the package on the table. I wanted to open it, but all I could do was stare.
"Jane...what do you think it is?"
"I haven't a clue."
"Shall we open it..."
"Oh, Lizzy, I am quite afraid of finding out what is inside..."
"So am I..."
"What if..."
"But Mr. Brennean said that..."
"Let's just open it."
"Okay..."
"Why don't you?"
"No. Why me? You."
"At this rate we will never see its contents...Let's open it together."
Each of us took a side and we tore the brown paper that was wrapped around it.
Oh my.
Before us was the most beautiful mahogany box that both of us had ever seen. There were intricate patterns and designs on the sides. On the lid of the box there was carved an elegant letter "B."
"It's magnificent!"
"Yes, it is lovely. Let's open it."
The hinges squeaked as we lifted the top. It probably had not been opened in years. Inside was something tied by a string and wrapped in delicate, white tissue paper that had turned yellow. I pulled the string, pushed the tissue paper away, and gasped.
There in the front of me was the face of a handsome, young man. It took me awhile to recognize the man as my father. Captured in a picture. Photographs in black and white.
Jane and I went through the small stack of photographs that depicted my father's early life. There he was as a little baby, then a tot, and then a little boy, and then a young man. Jane and I had our moments of "wows," "ahs," and "oh my goshes." In some of the pictures friends surrounded him. In others, he was by himself. But in all of them, he looked so happy.
We got to the final picture. It was different. He was happy to be sure, but it was different. Singular. Distinct.
This picture did not capture my father with just any ordinary friend.
There was my father sitting on a rock near a small pond, and sitting on his lap was a beautiful woman. She had bright eyes and a stunning expression. She lay back in his arms smiling radiantly. My father looked at her with adoring eyes. They looked absolutely blissful.
Truly romantic.
Tender.
Passionate.
Loving.
Expressions of pure love. Between my father and this woman. Yet...
This woman was not my mother.
I turned the photo and read the inscription, written in an elegant hand, on its back.
To my "handsome prince,"Just a simple remembrance of a perfect day.
My darling, never forget my words to you.Love,
Your "beautiful angel"
Oh my.
Jane looked at me with questioning eyes. This was too much for one day. I did not say anything; I put the photo away and went to bed.
I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it.~Harry Emerson Fosdick
Harry Emerson Fosdick, I suppose, may be considered wise by other wise men and women for acknowledging a desire to live in a world of mystery. For wishing to experience a world larger then what he could comprehend. In any other circumstance I would agree with him. In any other circumstance I would wish for mystery. For the unknown. For the larger world that I would learn to comprehend. In any other circumstance.
In this circumstance another mystery was just overwhelming. From the day my father has died, has left me, my world, the world that I thought I knew, was steadily crumbling. My life is, at present, full of mystery, and I find myself not wishing as Fosdick did; rather, I find myself wishing for the exact opposite. For the world that I can comprehend because this world of confusion that has suddenly invaded is so disconcerting.
After opening the box with Jane, I went to bed. At least that is what I intended to do, but I found myself unable to accomplish my intention of sleeping. I lay in my bed and looked at the ceiling for what felt like several hours. I could not stop thinking about...everything. I looked at my clock. 2:30 am. I was restless and agitated. I tried to sleep. I counted sheep. Sung songs to myself. Tried to read. Finally, I decided to get up and get something to drink. Slowly, I walked out of my room. Jane had somehow successfully fallen asleep and I did not want to wake her. I walked into the room we had opened the box in. The box was still there on the table with its beautiful engravings. Next to it were the photographs. I was drawn to them.
I sat on the sofa and picked the photographs up again. I shifted through them again. Slowly and deliberately.
The last picture. The picture of my father with that woman.
I turned it over and read the elegant hand again. And again. And again.
"My darling, never forget my words to you."
What were those words exactly? Words of undying love? Everlasting love?
I suppose not. For their love did somehow die. I think...
I looked at the woman. She was so happy with my father. She must have been in love with him. He must have loved her.
Love.
I touched the pendant.
I looked at her again. I don't know her. I did not recognize her.
I laid back on the couch. Imagining. Thinking. Wondering.
Dreaming.
I awoke the next morning on the couch with the faces of a woman and my father in front of me. They were still there. Present in my mind. Tangible proof that they did exist.
Jane came in fully dressed.
"Lizzy, are you well?"
"Yes, Jane, thank you. I believe I am going to be all right."
She motioned to the picture in my hand.
"I couldn't stop thinking about them either, Lizzy."
"Did you get some sleep?"
"A little. I was just exhausted." Both physically and mentally.
"Who do you think she is?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think we should show Mama?"
"I think we should keep this to ourselves, Jane. At least for now."
"I have to go. I am running late."
"Goodbye Jane."
What was the meaning of all of this? I needed to get in contact with the Brenneans soon.
God knows, I have a large task ahead of me.
The will reading was done. Finally. I was left with many confusing questions, but it was done and I was glad. At least, we were not so badly off as I thought we were. The mystery of the unknown woman who apparently was once my father's love remained. But, I had to put those thoughts aside for the meanwhile.
Jane and I needed to return to our own jobs and tasks. We had already missed so much in the past few weeks. I went back to work and school on Monday, and I tried to adjust back to my normal, busy schedule. I found that it was not easy with so much on my mind. I had many fears. But in an effort to get away from the nagging questions and the mysteries at hand, I dived into my work with much "enthusiasm" and I received good grades plus a bonus at work.
Life was going on.
As far as relationships went, I could definitely say things progressed. For both Jane and myself. Jane and Charles were together often. He was so attentive towards her and Jane was in love with him. Whenever I would ask her about her feelings towards him she would just blush and look away. I observed Charlie together with her. He had to be in love with her too. My relationship with George deepened. He took me out many times and we had a lot of fun together. He was always the perfect gentleman and I enjoyed his company. I knew I was falling for him hard, but I could not dismiss the memory of a man I seem to have fallen harder, more quickly, and consequently more painfully for.
Damn him for being so wonderful then!
I touched what hung upon my neck. The pendant. It was simply beautiful. Intricate knots of silver formed an intriguing design around the green jewel that was set in the center. The small onyx stones were embedded into the corners of the silver design added to the magnificence of the treasure.
The pendent was his gift to me the last time I saw him. It was a perfect gift. I vowed never to take it off. I gave him something too. A ring. Something he said he would "always treasure" because he said that I was someone he "would never forget." Sure. Those were definitely words he sure forgot.
Although the whole experience had hurt me so much, I kept with my promise and I never took the pendant off. I maintained a hope that he would come back. That he had not just forgotten. That his words were lies. That was five and a half years ago. How much time had passed. I was so young. He was so young. I did not know that much about him, in the short time I had know him, yet my heart took over my senses and I jumped into a relationship that I wished... I wish that...I wish... NO. I should not wish! Why do I wish? I have the lovely George Wickham at my feet and I wish for him? No. No more wishing. Time to move on.
I knew that if I wanted to move on and truly enjoy George's company I had to forget him. Forget him. Forget him. I had to forget my hopes of seeing him as a passerby on the street. I had to forget my dreams of love at first sight. I had to forget it all. But how could I forget him with a constant reminder hanging from my neck, so close to the heart he had broken?
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and my eyes gazed at the lovely pendant. I had to take it off. That is the only solution. I kept telling my self that even if I did see him again I would not know him. Maybe it was better that way. So, I concluded, what is the point of wearing the pendant. He is not coming back, Lizzy. He is not coming back. He is not coming back. If he really loved you, he would have already come back. You would be in his arms. He would kiss you and wipe your tears away. But he is not here.
I was crying.
Oh Ben.... You said that you loved me. But you were apparently wrong. But I still loved you. I wanted to hate you. To say I could not forgive you. To forget you. But I could not.
No. I fought the tears, and I looked at the pendant once more. Then, I slowly reached for the clip of the chain and took the necklace off.
There that was not so bad.
But it was dreadful. It felt unusual. My neck suddenly felt empty. So did my heart. It was as if I had lost something deep in my soul. The pendant had become such a part of me.
It is not a part of me anymore. You are not going to be part of me any more, Ben. This is farewell.
I am moving on. I tried to think this with as much composure possible, looked at the pendant in my hand, and cried.
Just then the phone rang.
"Hello."
"Hey Lizzy. This is George. How are you doll?"
"Okay, I guess."
I glanced at the table next to me and I spotted the invitation to the Christmas Ball at Jane's hospital. Christmas and the ball was only a week away. I guess that now I moved on...
"George, how would you like to come to a ball with me for Christmas?"
"A ball?"
"Yes, Jane's hospital is having a benefit ball on Christmas day. Come with me?"
"Hmm...Although Christmas day with you sounds tempting I will have to give you an answer later. I might be busy but I will try very hard to come."
Disappointment.
"I will be sure to contact you soon."
Be optimistic.
"That's great. Okay, I will talk to you later then."
"Bye."
This is a start. The first step to forgetting him forever.
I loved you once, but goodbye. Goodbye Ben, forever.
"Lizzy you are on in three."
"Thanks."
I stepped up to stage and greeted the audience. I looked at the crowd, saw a familiar face, and almost missed my cue. I looked at him as he stared at me with his blue eyes, and I sighed to myself. Forget him. Ben. Here is someone else.
Love is funny or it's sadHe winked at me and smiled. How did he know that I worked here?
Or its quiet or its mad
It's a good thing or its bad
But beautiful
Beautiful to take a chanceNo, I wouldn't mind either...
And if you fall you fall
And I'm thinkin'
I wouldn't mind at all
Love is tearful or it's gayHeartache. Will I ever avoid it?
It's a problem or it's play
It's heartache either way
But BeautifulHe held my attention.
And I'm thinkin' if you were mine
I'd never let you go
And that would be but beautiful
I know
But BeautifulHe stood up and applauded. After I had finished my entire show, I went back stage and saw a bouquet of roses addressed to me. George.
And I'm thinkin' if you were mine
I'd never let you go
And that would be but beautiful
I know
I opened the card.
Surprise. Beautiful, Lizzy. Nothing but beautiful. This is how I would like to say... "Yes." Christmas would sound perfect with you. I am sorry this is so late. Love always, George.I ran to him.
"You are so sweet."
Locked in my embrace he spoke, "Glad you liked it. I love your response. I love to make you happy, Lizzy."
Here there was only silence.
"So how did you find this place," I finally managed to say.
"Jane told me you worked here, and I decided to pay a visit. Surprised?"
"Yes! Did you like the show?"
"Like it? No." I felt dejected.
"I loved it. You have an incredible voice!" I felt wonderful.
Why did he play with my emotions this way?
"Let me take you out. We can find a dress for you for this ball."
I could only nod.
Despite the commercially driven aspects of the winter holiday season, the shopping frenzies, and the emptiness of my pocket after one trip to the mall, Christmas is still one of my favorite holidays. The rush to find the perfect gifts and the frustrations that accompany it may dampen the spirit for some people but not for me. Christmas is such a wonderful time, and I cannot think of any occurrence that could spoil this simply great mood I generally find myself in. (Okay, I can think of one or two things, but I am an optimistic person.)
I think Christmas brings out the best in a lot of people. Yuletide cheer creates a contagious spirit of happiness and joy. For at least one day in the year most people try to enjoy living their life and being with their family and friends. The Christmas spirit encourages us to be generous, kind, and forgiving. If only people would act as it if was Christmas the whole year round. Maybe then more people would be happier and the world would be a better place.
In between work, schoolwork, wrapping presents, decorating, and interesting visits with mother, I found time to prepare for the Christmas Benefit Ball for the hospital Jane and Charles worked at. Naturally, Charlie was taking Jane. He also mentioned that he had invited his sisters and a few of his friends visiting from England. Despite the possible risks, Jane and I decided to bring our mother and our sisters. We hoped that it would be an enjoyable occasion for them.
We went to Montgomery Mall and about ten stores, forty dresses (none that I particularly liked), and three hours later, we sat down on one of those mall benches in exhaustion. Thirsty, I went to get a drink at the food court. George stayed at the bench to watch our bags. When I returned I witnessed an interesting scene from a distance.
George looked as white as a sheet at the sight of two well-dressed men whose faces I could not see very well. I moved closer and was able to see the expression on the men's faces. I saw the taller one's obviously unfriendly, angry glare at George. George seemed unsettled and nervous. As the taller one moved closer to George, the shorter one pulled him back, telling him persistently, " Will, come on. Let's go...we don't want to cause a scene...Come on Will..." The taller one angrily averted his gaze and began to move in the other direction. Then, in a mumbled voice I heard the taller man say, "Let's go, Rich. But God help him if he doesn't stay out of my way..."
You could feel the tension in the air dispel as the two men disappeared. I finally left my hiding place and approached George.
What happened?
George was in a daze. When I came up to him, he did not notice my presence.
"George? George? Hello? George?"
"Who was that? What was that about?"
"That...That was nothing," he scowled. I was surprised by his unpleasant tone, and decided not to mention it further. As I sat down next to him, he stood up.
"Listen Lizzy, I am not feeling too well. And I am sorry for just yelling at you now. I think maybe I should leave and get some rest at home."
"Yes. Of course. Talk to you later. Goodbye." In the sullen mood that suddenly came upon him, he left.
I spent the rest of the day shopping for a dress.
Alone.
Eventually I did find a gorgeous crimson dress at a small shop. I wondered what George would think of it.
Or if he even cared.
Why did I even doubt him? Of course he cared.
Nonetheless, what was that all about?
Will someone ever give me answers to anything?