Chapter 12
"When you come right down to it," Jim Anderson said, "how many experiences in life give as much downright happiness as what we folks are doing right now? Here we are, a family, sitting at table, enjoying good food and good conversation together." He shook his head, smiling at Molly, then at Dana and Corinne. "I say we should be very grateful to the Lord for giving us times like this to enjoy."
It was Saturday evening, and Lena, staring at her plate, felt in a ferment. The dinner, just as she had expected, was a lavish one: roast turkey with oyster stuffing, and all the trimmings. Lena had come early in the morning to help prepare the food and save Molly as many steps as possible. .The trouble was that Molly didn't want to be helped. It was easier to do things herself, she claimed, than to tell Lena how she wanted them done.
"Your turn to work in the kitchen will come when you have a husband and home of your own," Molly had said. "I want you to take it easy while you can."
Now Molly was dead tired. Her smile was strained, and while she urged the others to eat, Lena noticed that she was eating next to nothing. Her face was unnaturally flushed, and the frightening phrase-high blood pressure-crossed Lena's mind.
If only this horrible dinner were over! For it was horrible. Dana, seated beside Lena, didn't seem like himself. And Corinne, across the table, wore a purple satin evening gown and the air of a very superior person who was slumming. She wore that dress on purpose, Lena thought furiously. It was just her mean way of high-hatting Molly, who had on a freshly laundered cotton house dress.
"I don't quite understand what you mean, Mr. Anderson." Corinne, who had been eating like a horse, paused while taking a second helping of candied sweet potatoes. "A family." She smiled vaguely, settled for two heaping tablespoons of the potatoes, then pushed the dish toward Dana, who shook his head. In contrast to his sister, Dana seemed reluctant to eat anything. It was the first time Lena had ever seen him embarrassed or at a loss for words. Dana struck her as a man who wished he were anywhere on earth but where he was. Why? Had he given her a chance, Lena would have asked him bluntly.
But he gave her no chance. He and Corinne had arrived late, which was a rude thing in itself, to Lena's way of thinking. And they were scarcely inside the house when Corinne had announced that they would have to leave as soon as dinner was over. She was booked to give a lecture, one of those tiresome duties she'd forgotten all about when she had made the dinner appointment. But of course her public must come first! It was her way of life, a kind of dedicated life which a public figure like herself had to live.
Corinne swallowed a mouthful of sweet potatoes, followed by a mouthful of oyster dressing, followed by a bite of turkey breast drowning in Molly's heavenly giblet gravy.
She gave Molly what passed for a smile. "I suppose a woman would have to spend her entire life in the kitchen to be able to cook as you do, Mrs. Anderson." She added: "Of course, to a woman like myself it wouldn't seem worth it. But then, I'm more the mental type."
"I'm not," Molly said cheerfully. "I never got past the eighth grade, and to my way of thinking I didn't miss anything I needed for a full, happy life. I've had everything I wanted."
Corinne smiled, a thin, supercilious little smile, observing that happiness depended on the woman. If one were born with the mentality and temperament of a cook and housewife, no doubt it was pleasant enough to spend one's life drudging away at menial tasks. As for herself, she added with a laugh, she always took it as a personal insult when the census taker or some such person asked her if she should be listed as a housewife.
"I don't see anything insulting about that, Miss Hall," Molly said. "What finer thing can any woman be than a housewife?
As I see it, that's a good enough life for any woman."
Jim put down his knife and fork, took a swallow of water, and cleared his throat. "Miss Hall," he said with the troubled look of a man who felt it his duty to speak his mind and let the chips fall where they may, "I don't like what you just said to my wife. If I understand you rightly, you were implying that women who make good cooks and housewives are inferior to females who gad about doing things outside the house. It just so happens that I don't agree. It just so happens that a finer woman than my wife never walked this earth. You like to spend your life telling a lot of strangers you don't care about how to fix up houses you'll never see. Molly-likes to spend her life fixing a home for those she loves. That don't make you any smarter or wiser or more useful in the world than she is. It just means that you're a whole lot different. I had to make my feelings clear, Miss Hall."
In the dead silence that followed, Jim again cleared his throat, took another swallow of water. "My greatest hope for our daughter," he said into the silence, "is that her life may turn out to be as good and useful and filled with love as her mother's. Love, Miss Hall, is the most important thing in this life. For a woman to give love in over flowing measure to her husband, her family, her home-that's a recipe that can't be beat."
Outside of an occasional lazy, worthless cowhand back in Texas, it was the first and only time Lena had ever heard her Dad put anyone in his place.
She stole a glance at Dana's face, which was grim and set. His eyes seemed glued to his plate, where most of his food remained untasted. He seemed afraid to look at her. They had not spoken a dozen words to each other. In an effort to lighten the tension, Lena said gaily: "Maybe Dad and Corinne should go outside and fight it out. You and I could act as umpires, Dana. What do you say?"
"That might be an idea." Dana managed a painful smile.
Molly went to the kitchen on the pretext of refilling the gravy bowl. More gravy wasn't what was needed, Lena thought. What was needed was a sharp knife to cut this awful tension. This was the beginning of the end between herself and Dana. Their engagement, such as it was, could never survive this. At the moment she didn't seem to care. She felt nothing. Again she looked at Dana, and still she felt nothing. How could she? How could a girl feel love, warmth, tenderness, desire, for a man who sat there like a wooden stick? When he wasn't staring at his plate, he was glancing at his wristwatch. "It's ten after seven," he said to Corinne.
Molly returned with the gravy which no one wanted. "Now, Jim," she said firmly, "I think you owe Miss Hall an apology. Just because you've always seen me through rose-colored glasses, that doesn't mean other folks haven't the right to see me just as I am. Miss Hall is absolutely right. I'm just a plain old homebody who never was smart enough to do anything but cook and keep house. I'd be the last one to take offense at her saying that, because it's the truth. Now you go right ahead and apologize, Jim. You hear?"
"There's no need for an apology," Corinne said stiffly. "Dana, the time again, please?"
"No need to rush. If we get away by eight, that will give you plenty of time."
"Well, I don't want to be late."
Molly jumped up again. "Oh, you folks mustn't leave until you've had your dessert. I made a nice pumpkin pie, because Lena said that was your favorite, Dana. Will you have it with whipped cream?"
"Thanks just the same," Dana said stiffly, "but I'm afraid I couldn't eat another bite." Then he turned to Lena. "Could I have another glass of water, honey?"
"Sit down, Molly," Jim ordered, smiling. "You say I should apologize, and you're the boss. So you sit there and see if I do it right. Miss Hall, I didn't mean any offense by what I said. I'm just a well-meaning old fellow who isn't much at words. A man who's lived most of his life on a Texas ranch never gets what you might call polished up. When I have something to say, the only way I know to act is to go ahead and say it. If it comes out sounding wrong, I've got Molly sitting there to call me down for it."
"Really, Mr. Anderson, all this is quite unnecessary." Corinne had the look of a woman who had just eaten a very sour pickle.
Jim took another swallow of water and went right on. If there were any hard feelings because of something he'd said, it was necessary for him to get it straightened out. Perhaps, he conceded, he had spoken without thinking. If he had, it was because any slight to Molly always got his dander up.
"You see, Miss Hall, I'm a fellow who sets great store by his wife. Always have. She's my whole world, you might say. When anything is said or done that might hurt her feelings, I'm like an old fire horse who hears the bell. I just sort of lose my head, so to speak."
"Dana, dear, what time is it now, please?" Corinne was crumpling her paper napkin with a faint look of distaste. Lena wondered if that look was because of the absence of nice linen, so essential to a properly served dinner. Or was it because of the drawled inanities of this tiresome and slightly vulgar old fellow from the Texas plains?
"We have fifteen minutes," Dana said in the voice of a man who wanted to get away as badly as Corinne did, but who was still mindful of the social amenities.
"And there's my daughter to be considered, too," Jim said. "Next to Molly, Lena is the person I love best. From the very hour that little girl was born, she's been mighty dear to me. All the work I've ever done, all the money I've made, I've always had Lena in mind. Stands to reason she'll outlive Molly and me. When we're gone, everything we've managed to get together will go to Lena. Anything I can do to add to her happiness while I'm here on earth, I want to do. So it stands to reason I wouldn't knowingly say or do anything to create ill feeling with you folks. Once these two are married, we'll all be one family, you might say. I want us to feel close and friendly toward one another, as a family should. For that reason, Miss Hall, if you took anything I said amiss, I humbly apologize and ask you not to hold it against me."
Lena knew that her father was humiliating himself for no good purpose. Out of his sincerity and his love for her, he was trying to make amends as best he could, and there was no way she could stop him. She couldn't very well shout at him that he was wasting his breath, that it didn't in the least matter what he had said to Corinne, since the woman had had only contempt for them to start with. She felt ill, was plagued by a sense of guilt. She should never have allowed this dinner to take place. She should have phoned Dana not to come, made some excuse. If only Dana would say something, make some move to put things back on an even keel, instead of just sitting there like a man in a daze.
Corinne pushed back her plate. There was menace in the look she gave Jim. "Mr. Anderson, this is the second or third time you've mentioned our 'happy little family.' " Her tone turned the words into ridicule. "Doesn't it seem to you that you are taking quite a lot for granted?"
"What do you mean?" Jim looked honestly puzzled.
"What makes you so sure we're going to be one family, ever? My brother and your daughter are by no means man and wife. And if I have anything to say about it, they never will be."
"What in tarnation are you getting at, Miss Hall?" Jim's glance went to Lena, then to Dana, who spoke quickly, with obvious embarrassment. "Corinne, we'd better go. This really isn't your business, you know."
He turned to Lena. "Lord, what a mess," he groaned. "Listen, honey, I'd like to see you later this evening." He spoke in a whisper which was lost on her dad and Corinne, who were glaring at each other like a pair of prizefighters. "Can you be at your apartment, say around ten o'clock?"
"No," Lena said briefly.
"But I've got to talk with you. It's important."
Lena's only reply was a shrug. At the moment she had no desire to see Dana later, or ever, for that matter. Her one desire was to see the end of this nightmare of a dinner.
"I'm making it my business," Corinne snapped at her brother. She turned back to Jim Anderson. "It's true that my brother and your daughter have been seeing a lot of each other. I suppose you might call it an engagement. But," she laughed, "these days the average engagement is not to be taken too seriously. For my part, I've never-approved of this marriage, and I've told my brother as much on various occasions. To put it bluntly, Mr. Anderson, I don't feel that Lena is the right girl for him."
"Why not?" Jim's voice was dangerously calm.
"Since you ask, I don't think Lena has the qualities Dana should look for in a wife. My brother is headed for big things in the business world, Mr. Anderson. His wife should be the kind of person who can be a help, not a hindrance."
"You are saying that my daughter would be a hindrance? Exactly how, may I inquire?"
Dana rose, his face purple with angry embarrassment. Never had Lena seen him look so infuriated. But his fury was that of a little boy who could only gulp and squirm. But who did not have the courage, the plain ordinary backbone, to tell Corinne to shut up; to say: "Lena is the girl I am going to marry, and you keep out of it."
He leaned down to whisper to Lena that he felt ill, and left the room quickly.
"If you don't know what I mean, Mr. Anderson, if your common sense doesn't tell you what should be perfectly obvious, it's hard for me to explain. To put it as simply as possible, Lena lacks the sophistication which I feel Dana's wife should possess."
Lena exploded: "It seems to me that's for Dana to decide, not you. But in case you're interested, I have no desire to marry Dana, not if you come with the deal. You'd make life miserable for any girl he married. You're a bossy, opinionated-"
Her father stopped her with a look. "Let me handle this, honey," he said quietly, and turned back to Corinne to ask: "Are you by any chance trying to say that Lena's folks don't suit you, Miss Hall? Are you afraid that because we're plain, everyday, down-to-earth folks with no imagine frills, Lena is cut from the same pattern? You think maybe she wouldn't fit in with your rich society friends?"
Corinne replied coldly and without hesitation: "That's part of it, yes. Oh, I'm not saying you aren't good people," she added patronizingly. "You are, of course. You're very wonderful people I'm sure, in your own way. But that isn't quite the point, is it?"
They sat motionless, staring at each other. For what must have been ten or twelve ticks of the clock, Lena sat as if she were paralyzed. She could hear Dana being sick in the bathroom. She was frighteningly aware that her mother's face was livid with agitation, her hand shaking as she pulled her coffee up to her mouth. The really worrisome thing was that Molly was not saying a word; Molly who by long habit took charge when trouble threatened. Then Lena saw her father rise slowly, his chin thrust forward.
"Miss Hall, you came to this house an invited guest. We welcomed you with friendliness and good feeling. You accepted our hospitality. You broke bread with us. And as soon as you'd stuffed your gullet, you set about insulting my wife. Then you insulted all of us. We aren't good enough for your royal highness. My daughter hasn't enough sophistication to fit into all your imagine, highfaluting plans for your brother."
Jim paused to catch a quick breath. He brushed his hand across his forehead, then used it to support himself against the table. "Well, Miss Hall, I don't know about my girl's sophistication, but I'll say this for her. She has good manners, which is more than you have. You, Miss Hall, haven't got the manners of one of my ranch hogs." There was a splintering crash at the other end of the table. Lena whirled. Molly had dropped her coffee cup as she fainted.
Without a word of concern or an offer to help, Corinne marched out of the room and out of the house. Lena held Molly's head in her lap while Jim, looking scared to death, announced he was getting a doctor. He was on his way out of the room when Molly opened her eyes to call him back. "Don't go getting any doctor," she said. "I'll be all right. Just had one of my crazy fainting spells, I guess."
Lena tested Molly's pulse, which seemed normal. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. It wouldn't be the first time her mother had staged a fainting spell when she couldn't think of any other way to put a stop to unpleasantness.
Lena left her mother to go to the door where Dana was waiting. His face looked pale and drawn as she had never seen it before. He was all apologies. He was worried sick, he said, over Corinne's behavior. He'd tell her plenty when they got home. He only hoped that Lena wouldn't blame him, would understand that he'd been so embarrassed he hadn't known what to say or do. If there was anything he could do to help her mother, he certainly wanted to do it. Corinne could drive herself to the lecture hall. Could he go for a doctor, get medicine, anything?
He kept talking and talking, while Lena kept staring at that handsome face which she suddenly saw for what it was, the face of a man who was essentially weak and who allowed himself to be dominated by his sister because hers was the stronger personality. All that he is, Lena thought, flows from Corinne into him. The fine plans for his future were Corinne's plans; his ultimate choice of a wife will be Corinne's choice. No wonder he had been unable to make up his mind about their marriage; he'd been waiting for Corinne to make it up for him.
She heard herself telling him: "All you can do to help is to go and not come back. You never loved me; I don't think you're capable of love. Just let me alone; that's all you can do for me, Dana Hall."