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Authors: Cynthia Freeman

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BOOK: Seasons of the Heart
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E
VA COULTER’S OBJECTIONS
to Phillip’s proposed marriage had nothing to do with the fact that Ann Pollock was too young for her son or that Ann was Stella Burke’s stepdaughter—something which she did not know. Unlike Stella, she didn’t raise her voice; nonetheless her opposition was just as unwavering.

“You’re much too young, Phillip,” she protested.

“Too young for what?”

“To assume the responsibilities of marriage.” She sighed. “You know, darling, that I only want to do what is best for you.”

“Really? And are you so sure what’s best for me?” Phillip had seen through his mother’s pretenses for as long as he could remember. He knew that Eva Coulter treated anyone she loved as a personal possession, and demanded their constant adoration.

“You don’t want me to get married at all, do you, Mother,” he said, trying to make her confront the real issue.

“Why, that’s not true!” Eva said aggrievedly. “One of these days, if you found a lovely girl, I would be delighted.”

“But I
have
found a lovely girl.”

Eva was shaken by his open defiance. This just wasn’t like Phillip. Summoning all her patience, she replied gently, “Perhaps … but I’m sure that if you think about it, dear, you’ll realize how ill-timed this is.”

“And when would be the right time, Mother? When I’m fifty or so?”

“Now, dear, you must not get angry. It has nothing to do with age.”

“What does it have to do with, then—money?”

“The country still hasn’t really recovered from the Depression, Phillip. And marriage is a serious undertaking.”

“Look, Mother. This really has nothing to do with finance. The truth is that you’re advising me to forget the whole thing and give Ann up.”

“Why, Phillip, that isn’t what I’m saying at all!”

“Mother, you forget that I’m an attorney. I make my living recognizing contradictions. First you said that I was too young; then you said that it had nothing to do with age. Then it was a question of money; then it had nothing to do with money. Make up your mind, Mother. What exactly is the problem?”

Eva started to protest but was silenced by Phillip’s look. “I’m not asking you for your permission, Mother. I’m planning to marry Ann as soon as possible.” He waited for her to digest the fact. “Now, I’m bringing her home for dinner on Sunday, and I’d appreciate it greatly if you would treat her graciously and with warmth.”

Phillip’s tone made it plain that he would brook no opposition. He wasn’t in the mood for any of Eva’s games. Ann had given him back something he’d thought he’d lost: the desire to succeed. She had become his inspiration, his reason for living.

By God, he was going to work his tail off in that law firm, and in a year—no, less than that—he would be able to go to them for a big raise, one that would enable him to support Ann in the style he wanted. And no one, including Eva, was going to deny him. Looking her squarely in the eye, he said, “Well, Mother?”

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

O
N 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

T
HIS 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 weak 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

A
LL 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.

BOOK: Seasons of the Heart
13.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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