Seasons of the Heart Page 5

  Eva tried to hide her fear. She was losing her son to another woman. But something told her that now was not the moment to press the issue. Haltingly, she said, “Of course, dear … please ask her. I want very much to meet Ann.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mother.” And he left the room before she had a chance to withdraw the invitation.

  Simon Coulter stood in the doorway and stared uneasily at his wife’s tragic expression. “Don’t you think we should talk about this, Eva?”

  “I don’t think there’s much to say. Phillip has made up his mind that he’s going to marry this girl, and no matter what we say it will do no good.”

  “My dear, you know that our son would never be attracted to a young woman unless she were worth while.”

  “I’m not so sure of that. Girls are so forward today. This is a different time. But the main thing is that I don’t believe Phillip is ready for marriage.”

  “He’s twenty-six—isn’t it only natural that he should want a wife?”

  Eva stiffened. “You’re putting me on the defensive, Simon, and I don’t like it.”

  Simon sighed and looked at his wife with pity. She truly believed that she was acting in Phillip’s best interests. “I love you, Eva. I always have and I always will. But I’m not blind. You are a bit possessive with Phillip.”

  “How dare you say such a thing! I just want what is best for my child!”

  Simon did not answer immediately. He sighed. It was difficult for him to take Eva to task. But she had to understand that she was making the same mistake with Phillip that she had with her brother years ago. Finally he said very gently, “I know you do, Eva, dear—but you also wanted what was best for Roger.”

  Eva started to sob. “I think that’s dreadfully cruel of you. Don’t you think I’ve been through enough where Roger is concerned?”

  Simon gathered his wife in his arms. “Of course you have, but sometimes we have to look at past mistakes to avoid repeating them. Phillip is no longer a little boy. You can’t keep him from growing up.”

  “I’m not trying to do that. Honestly I’m not!”

  “I know you’re not doing it deliberately, dearest. But you must be honest with yourself. You really don’t want to give him up, do you?”

  “That’s untrue! It’s just that I feel he’s too young.”

  “Perhaps—but you’ll be making a great mistake by opposing him. You and I, Eva, have lost a great deal in our lives. If we don’t want to lose Phillip as well, I would suggest that we accept this girl. Eva, you’ve just got to learn to let go.”

  Trying to hold back her tears, Eva repeated, “I only want what is best for Phillip.” But she recognized the truth of Simon’s words. Although she had wanted Phillip to marry back into the class to which he’d been born, she did not want to lose him altogether. And she could not bear the thought of forfeiting Simon’s unquestioning adoration. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she said, “There is one thing you cannot ask of me, and that is to love Ann. Since neither my permission nor my approval was asked for, I don’t feel obliged to do that. However, I will not interfere, and I will respect her—as Phillip’s wife.”

  Simon kissed her tenderly. “That’s a very good start, dear.”

  Chapter Seven

  ON SUNDAY EVENING THE Coulters met Ann Pollock for the first time.

  Eva said all the right things, but with a reserve which made Ann feel ill at ease. It was nothing she could put her finger on, but she sensed Mrs. Coulter was having difficulty being gracious.

  Sitting awkwardly on the small sofa beside Phillip, Ann looked at the portrait of Eva which hung above the mantel. Mrs. Coulter had once been a grand lady. She obviously had hoped Phillip would marry into society. Ann noticed that what remained of her possessions looked incongruous in a stuffy little flat which rented for forty-five dollars a month. The Aubusson rugs were crowded in the small rooms and the furniture seemed cramped. Above a shabby mauve silk Louis XVI sofa hung another portrait, of Mrs. Coulter with Phillip at the age of five or so. A rose marble-topped table was placed in front of the sofa. On either side of the coffee table were two worn, tapestry-covered chairs.

  Until today Ann hadn’t comprehended the extent of the Coulters’ loss. Now she understood Eva’s reticence and wondered if a shopgirl from Magnin’s was good enough for Phillip.

  “Will you have sherry, my dear?” Simon was asking her.

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered, barely above a whisper.

  Phillip watched his mother, nervously aware that Ann’s background would not meet with her approval. For the last two weeks he had carefully avoided all questions, saying only, “Ann comes from a lovely family.”

  Now he realized that he had made a terrible mistake. Eva was getting ready to interrogate Ann. Before he could think of a diversion, his mother was saying sweetly, “Tell me a little about yourself, dear.”

  Ann cleared her throat and smiled nervously. “Well … I was born here in San Francisco—”

  Eva interrupted her. “Pollock? Strange—I’m not familiar with that name. How long has your family been in the city?”

  “Both of my parents were born here.”

  “I’m amazed that we’ve never met! You live with your father and mother?”

  “My father and stepmother.”

  “Oh—you have a stepmother?”

  “My mother died when I was six.”

  “What a pity. And your father remarried. Aren’t you fortunate?”

  “Oh, yes. We’re very close.” Ann prayed that her voice would not betray her.

  “How nice. And what does your father do?” Eva came to the crucial point.

  “He’s retired.”

  “From what?” Eva smiled sweetly.

  “He had a cleaning plant.”

  “Well, that’s a very necessary business. Now I think we should go in to dinner.”

  Eva decided there was no point pursuing the subject. Phillip was going to marry this girl, cleaning business and all. Even though Eva asked no further questions during the meal, Ann continued to feel tense and awkward.

  It was only as the four were saying goodnight that Ann began to relax a little. Simon Coulter took her hand and said, “My dear, you are a lovely young woman. We are delighted to welcome you into our family.”

  Ann was so grateful that she had difficulty holding back tears. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you very much.”

  Ann turned to Mrs. Coulter, who smiled coldly and echoed, “Yes, we’re so delighted …”

  When Phillip walked Ann up to her door, she said, “I don’t think your mother really liked me.”

  “Of course she did,” Phillip lied quickly, but once back home he confronted Eva.

  “I was as gracious as I know how,” she protested.

  “No, you weren’t, Mother.”

  “I really don’t know what you expect of me, Phillip.”

  “I expect you to treat Ann as part of the family. She’s going to be my wife—and you’d damn well better get used to that idea!”

  After he slammed the door and stormed up to his bedroom, Eva was left alone, in despair. Phillip had never spoken to her that way before. It had to be Ann’s influence. But Simon’s warning rang in her ears. If we oppose him, we’ll lose him. Well, from now on, she would pretend to love Ann even if it killed her.

  Chapter Eight

  THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN the happiest time in Ann’s life, but it was far from that. In spite of the fact that Phillip said he understood about Stella, Ann still found the situation highly embarrassing, and Eva’s silent disapproval made Ann equally uncomfortable at the Coulters’. She felt there was nowhere she and Phillip could relax.

  Several times Ann approached Stella about having Phillip home, but Stella absolutely refused to discuss the matter.

  “What do you have against Phillip?” Ann would cry. “You don’t even know him!”

  “I’ll tell you what I have against him,” Stella would sneer. “He’s w
eak and spineless. Or maybe he’s not so much in love with you that he can’t live without you. Otherwise, why won’t he marry you now?” And she repeated the words so often that Ann herself began to doubt Phillip’s love.

  “Good God!” Stella would cry. “If he hasn’t married you after five months, he never will. That’s a long time for people in love. You’re a naive child. Can’t you see that he’s using you?”

  The word “using” troubled Ann, not because it was true, but because she recognized the extent of her own sexual desires—and they frightened her. Between her own frustration and Stella’s badgering, Ann found herself wondering if Stella might not be right. Was Phillip really intending to marry her? Why were they waiting? He did have a job, after all. And how could they go on this way without eventually ending up in bed? And Ann was not prepared for that without marriage. What if she became pregnant? She could almost hear Stella’s triumph.

  One night when they were having dinner she almost asked him to set a date, but when she looked at him, she was suddenly terrified. He was so good looking. He could have any woman he wanted—who was Ann Pollock to demand anything? If she pressed him now, she would lose him.

  Instead of speaking, Ann withdrew into herself. Phillip took her hand. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing … nothing at all.”

  “Ann, please talk to me. What is it?”

  “It’s nothing, Phillip”

  “Of course it is…. The problems at home—they’re becoming worse, aren’t they?”

  Ann had a momentary desire to say, Yes, damn you, and it’s your fault! But she couldn’t say that. He had warned her from the beginning that there was no other choice but to wait.

  Suddenly she could stand the tension no longer. She jumped up and ran from the restaurant.

  Phillip was flabbergasted; Ann was always so composed. He realized that their situation was becoming impossible, and he was terrified that Ann had lost patience with him.

  Throwing some money on the table, Phillip followed her out to the parking lot. Enfolding her in his arms, he said, “Don’t shut me out, Ann, please. You’re all I have.”

  “But, Phillip, I don’t really have you,” Ann sobbed.

  “Darling, how can you say that? I love you!”

  “And I love you, Phillip—but I just don’t think I’m strong enough to go on this way.”

  “I know. I’ve expected too much of you. There’s only one answer: we’re going to get married now. We’ll just have to live very simply at first.”

  Married! It was the magic word for which Ann had prayed, but even as her heart leaped for joy she felt a pang of guilt: had she forced Phillip into this?

  “Are you sure, Phillip?” She lifted her face and looked at him searchingly. “I’ll wait if you want to.”

  “No, we’ve done enough of that. You bet I’m sure!”

  And, in his eyes, what she saw was longing, and love.

  Chapter Nine

  ALL HER FRUSTRATION, ALL her anger, all her doubts disappeared as though they had never existed. Ann was intoxicated with happiness. Stella’s objections ceased to matter, along with Eva’s cold acceptance. Ann was going to be Mrs. Phillip Coulter.

  That Sunday afternoon they walked the streets of the Marina District with the classified ads, looking for an apartment. Everything they saw was either too dilapidated or too expensive, but finally they came across a furnished apartment on Beach Street for $42.50 a month. It was a one-bedroom, three floors up, overlooking an airshaft. The small bathroom opened off the foyer, and two cabinets separated the dining room and kitchen, but the ice box was in good repair, the landlady assured them proudly.

  Just for one moment, Ann noticed the worn linoleum and the chipped paint. Then she dismissed the apartment’s flaws from her mind. But the furniture is really quite pretty, she decided. In fact, the living room was cozy and attractive, with a green velour sofa and matching chair. A lamp sat on the end table between them, and a pastoral print hung over the sofa. A heavy, ornately carved coffee table from Grand Rapids, Michigan, sat in front of it, and in the middle of the room lay an imitation Oriental rug in brilliant colors.

  “Do you like it?” Phillip whispered.

  “I love it! But you best of all,” she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. To think of actually living here—with Phillip! It was her vine-covered cottage. And she and Phillip were the only two people in the world.

  A month later, Ann stood in front of the mirror as she and Ruthie watched the seamstress pin the hem of Ann’s skirt. She had abandoned her fantasies of floating down the aisle in yards and yards of white tulle. It was enough not to have to wait any longer, and she understood they had no money to waste on dreams. She could wear the little suit over and over again when she and Phillip were married. Feeling very practical, she said, “Oh, Ruthie, I never thought anyone could be as happy as I am! It seems as though the days can’t pass fast enough!”

  But it was just a week later that she woke up to the most important day of her life. At four o’clock that afternoon she would become Mrs. Phillip Coulter. As she gazed around her bedroom, a strange emotion seized her. In spite of the fact that she had prayed for the moment when she could leave Stella and all the dissensions, the place where she had been born was still home, a familiar and safe place. And in spite of her love for Phillip, she faced married life with a certain trepidation. She was glad when Ben interrupted her thoughts with a breakfast tray.

  Ann felt a lump in her throat when she saw the white rosebud. Ben had been such a loving father. Since his marriage to Stella, the sentimental side of his nature had waned and the sight of the rose was bittersweet.

  “Thank you, Papa!” she cried. “You’re the dearest man who ever lived. I’ll never forget this morning.”

  As Ben held his daughter close, he was happy that God had let him live long enough to see her married. His only sorrow was that Stella had unreasonably refused to attend Ann’s wedding.

  “You can’t do this!” Ben had shouted the night before. “What’s the reason for this insanity? First you didn’t want Phillip here because you were afraid he wouldn’t marry Ann. Now you won’t come to the wedding. Stella, do you have any idea of the embarrassment you will cause Ann? You don’t have to like the Coulters; all you have to do is be civil. Is that too much to ask? Can’t you just do this one thing for my sake?”

  Ben had taken Stella’s silence for contempt, but in reality she was battling an impulse to tell Ben the truth. In the end, pride won out over affection.

  “I’m sorry, Ben,” she had said. “I’m not going. And I won’t try to make you understand my reasons. You’ll all get along fine without me. Make whatever excuses you want, but—after all—I’m not Ann’s mother. I’m only the wicked stepmother.”

  Something in her face made Ben realize that she was not doing this just to be cruel. For a moment he had wanted to press her for the truth. Then, years of passivity made him retreat and he had resolved to simply do the best he could to make Ann enjoy her special day to the fullest.

  Now, as he sat on the edge of his daughter’s bed, his heart filled with joy at the thought of her happiness.

  “Ann, you are the best thing I’ve had in my life.” He turned away and cleared his throat. “Now, drink your coffee.”

  From the moment Ann got out of bed the day seemed to pass in a dream. She seemed to float up the stairs to the sanctuary, with her father at her side. She was so joyful that she was no longer upset by Stella’s absence. She told Eva that Stella had been struck with the flu, and was not even disturbed by her mother-in-law’s look of obvious disbelief.

  Moments later, her father was walking her down the aisle to where Phillip waited with his best man, Kenny.

  Ruthie smiled rather thinly as she stood to one side as Ann approached the altar. How sad to be married with only eight people present. She had argued, “For heaven’s sake, Ann, why not get married in the rabbi’s study?”

&n
bsp; “I’ve dreamed about walking down the aisle to meet my husband all my life. The number of people watching doesn’t matter at all. My father will be there, and for me that will fill up the whole room. And besides, my situation is a little different from yours, Ruthie. My father gave us a thousand dollars, and most of that has to be used for setting up a household. Ruthie, I loved your wedding, but no one could be happier than Phillip and I.”

  Ruthie’s attention was diverted as she watched Ben kiss his daughter as he left her at the chuppa, the traditional wedding canopy, and returned to the empty front pew opposite the Coulters.

  Whatever thoughts, feelings, or misgivings anyone had in that small assembly vanished as the rabbi began to intone the marriage ceremony.

  When the short ceremony ended, Phillip took Ann into his arms. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman in the world.”

  “You already have.”

  Phillip was in such a joyous state of mind as he walked up the aisle with Ann that he was oblivious to his mother’s tears. Later, Simon shook hands with his son, then kissed Ann on both cheeks. “To the loveliest daughter anyone could wish for. Mrs. Phillip Coulter—welcome to our family.”

  A quarter of an hour later they were all seated at the St. Francis Hotel for the wedding luncheon. It was a rather awkward affair. Kenny toasted the bride and groom, but the other guests were a little subdued. Ann was happily oblivious to anything except the fact that she and Phillip were together. Then, before she knew it, she and Phillip were standing in front of the hotel, saying goodbye to them.

  The Pine Inn at Carmel, where they were spending the honeymoon, exceeded Ann’s wildest dreams. It was just like in the movies. A fire had been lit in their room and champagne was cooling in an ice bucket. Until tonight, she hadn’t quite realized how very romantic Phillip could be. There had always been so little money, but tonight he refused to let expense be an object. He had thought of everything: red roses in a crystal vase, black caviar on a bed of silvery crushed ice.