The Life She Wanted: A Novel(45)
“Why did you choose me?” she demanded. “Is it because I’m poor? Because I wouldn’t have Lucy or Lillian or any of those other young women to stand by my side when you broke my heart? Or were you doing me a favor? ‘Pandora Carmichael will marry me because she’ll never have other prospects.’”
Her eyes filled with tears; she blinked them away. She couldn’t let Harley see her cry. She had fallen in love with him. And he’d betrayed her.
“I love you, Pandora. I loved you from the moment I saw you. You walked into the study when Preston and I were rehearsing, and it was if I had a new chance at life.” He twisted his hands. “You’re bright and intelligent and lively. The more time we spent together, the more I felt like I discovered my best friend.”
A sharp pain pierced her chest. She felt the same way about Harley—that she had found the person she belonged to.
But how could she trust him? In marriage you had to be honest with each other about everything. Yet Harley was being honest with her now. He could have waited until she found out, and even then he could have denied it. Pandora believed he was trying to turn over a new leaf. If Pandora loved Harley, she would help him.
He sensed the change in her. He reached for her hand.
“I’ll be a good husband. You can open your boutique in Hyde Park. I know how talented you are; the boutique will be a huge success. We’ll get a townhouse in New York, and you can open another boutique in Manhattan.”
The mention of New York brought it all back.
“So you can sneak off to a speakeasy with another man,” she retorted. “I’ll sleep with a wad of twenty-dollar bills on the bedside table so if there’s a police raid, I can get you out of jail.”
“There won’t be other men, and if there are, I’ll be discreet.”
“You weren’t discreet this time,” she snapped. “You could have been arrested.”
“In a way, I’m glad I went to the party. I realized I couldn’t go into the marriage with a secret.” Harley touched her wrist. “I need you, Pandora. Without you, I’d be completely lost.”
Pandora’s thoughts spun like the carousel at Coney Island. Many married couples didn’t have sex: the husbands had been wounded in the war or injured in an accident. Some wives already had six children and were so afraid of getting pregnant, they stopped making love with their husbands.
But this was different. Harley was asking her to live a lie. What if they never made love—could she live without passion? All the times Harley had kissed her, her body instinctively wanted more. She had been looking forward to her wedding night, to a lifetime of making love with her husband. Now she would have to get used to possibly living without it. If they did make love, it would be something else entirely. It would be Harley doing what was expected of him.
He’d put her in a terrible position. If Pandora and Harley didn’t get married, she would lose Adele. Pandora adored Adele; she was almost like a mother. They had grown so close. And there was Willie. Willie would eventually live with them when his arthritis grew worse and he could no longer teach tennis. Lately, he had to cancel more lessons because of the pain in his shoulder. In a few years, he might not be able to teach at all.
“How would it work?” she asked doubtfully.
“Nothing would be different. My parents must never know. They’ve endured so much with my brothers dying in the war. It would destroy them.” He took her hand. “And you’re right. I’ll be so busy with the bank and entertaining friends I won’t have time to think about anything else.”
Pandora sat back and looked around. It was a perfect summer day. The sun glinted on the river, and the air smelled of hyacinths. In three days, the lawn would be transformed for the reception: round tables set with huge vases of scarlet and white roses, a platform filled with musical instruments, a separate table with an ice sculpture and a six-tier wedding cake with chocolate fondant icing.
She and Harley had promised themselves to each other. She couldn’t flee at the first obstacle she encountered. But she needed time to think.
“I need some time,” she said. “We can talk about it later.”
“Of course.” He nodded.
Later that same afternoon, Pandora sat at a table in the public library in Hyde Park. She’d spent the last two hours reading everything she could about homosexuality. The only treatments were terrifying. In Austria, doctors administered something called aversion therapy, where the patient was given electric shocks and chemicals to make them vomit. She could never subject Harley to such terrible things.
She read newspaper clippings about homosexuals congregating at public bath houses and gathering at nightclubs in Greenwich Village. The February before, fifteen hundred people attended a masquerade ball at the Renaissance Casino in Harlem, and the newspaper reported that you couldn’t tell the men, in their elaborate evening gowns and painted faces, from the women.
She wished she could confide in Virginia, but then Virginia would have to keep Harley’s secret too. She had to make the decision by herself.
The door to the library opened, and Vivian Clarkson entered. She wore a green chemise dress. A small hat was perched on her head, and she wore white gloves.
“Pandora,” Vivian said when she recognized her. “What a pleasant surprise.”