All I knew was that suddenly, thoughts of my life after school and graduation no longer filled me with panic. I no longer had sores breaking open on my hands or searing the inside of my mouth. Eddie was in my life now, a lovely man, a charming man, a steadying ballast.
Where is my family?
Who will be with me when I am done with school?
Eddie was the answer I had been seeking to those questions.
* * *
Papa arrived at Mount Vernon for my graduation ceremony, and to my horror, he had Leila on his arm. I felt my stomach clench as I watched them approach, Leila’s youthful figure sheathed in a snug dress of peach taffeta, a large-brimmed hat fixed on her head at a jaunty angle, decked in ribbons and beads and horribly massive silk flowers.
Mother arrived shortly after, her skin matching her simple gray day dress, and she seated herself alone in one of the chairs set out for the ceremony. I couldn’t help but glower as I looked at them each in turn: my mother was so beleaguered by melancholy and her constant headaches that she looked far older than her middle age, whereas Leila appeared fresh and lively, stylishly turned out from tip to toe in brand-new clothes, which Papa had undoubtedly ordered custom for her from New York City.
The ceremony was long, and the hot sun poured down on a sticky Washington morning. I felt myself sweating through my light dress of cream chiffon. Afterward there was a celebratory luncheon with cakes and punch, and then Papa escorted me back into the school, its thick stone walls providing a welcome refuge of cool air. There, Helen waited to bid me a tearful farewell, as she and her family were scheduled to depart that afternoon for Newport. We took our leave with long, affectionate hugs and many promises of letter writing. “And you’ll have to let me know as soon as there is news with…you know,” my friend said with a wink. She’d heard enough about Ed all year long to know that there’d be news on that front soon enough.
Papa and I were scheduled to leave Washington the next day for Greenwich, while Mother was bound for St. Louis to take a rest cure. Fortunately Leila departed by train that afternoon following the ceremony. That night would be my last at Mount Vernon and in the capital I had called home for the past few years, and Papa asked me if we might have supper alone at a nearby restaurant. I met him there after a brief nap and a change of clothes, feeling a bit sad about my parting with Helen, but excited that I now had my diploma. I felt eager and ready for all that lay ahead, particularly my upcoming reunion with Eddie up north and my conversation with my father about my plans.
Papa did not bring up Eddie’s name as we settled in to our table and ordered our dinners, but I knew him well enough to see that he wanted to. It was why he had asked me to dinner, alone; he knew, now that school was done and I’d be moving up to the finished Boulders, that it was time for me to share my decision. And indeed, I was decided—I was going to marry Eddie.
At least, that was what I thought Papa wanted to speak about. That was what I had prepared to speak about with him over dinner. What I was not prepared for was what Papa did in fact bring up as we awaited our meals. Something entirely different, beginning with the words: “Marjorie, there’s something we need to discuss.”
“Yes.” I nodded, swallowing a sip of chilled water. Here it comes.
Papa looked away, down at the table. I noted that a sheen of perspiration had pearled across his clean-shaven face. “You’re a woman now, my dear. You’ve finished school. And I sure am proud of that. And happy for you.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
“It’s a big thing, that diploma.”
“Yes.”
“A time of big change for you, too.”
I nodded.
“And now, well…I’m going to be making a change, as well.”
This was unexpected. I shifted in my seat. “A…change?”
“A big change.”
“What do you mean, Papa?”
“You know that your mother and I…well, that our lives have gone in different directions.”
I nodded again, saying nothing.
He leaned forward, landing his elbows on the table. “Well…I’m going to be remarrying. Soon.”
Silence. The only sound that of the blood whooshing between my ears. The clatter of the restaurant—silverware, plates, patron chatter—had all receded to a distant thrum.
Papa getting remarried?
He fixed his eyes on mine, and I suspected that, had I not been seated, I might have folded over my legs. Leila was to become my stepmother? My heart twisted as it all clicked into place, one piece stacking neatly on top of the other: Papa hadn’t asked me to join him here at dinner, alone, to celebrate my diploma or ask me about my plans or seek out the decision of my heart. The decision that he had asked me, almost a year ago, to delay. Did he even remember that he’d asked that of me? Did he even care what my decision was? No, Papa had brought me to dinner tonight to tell me that he and Leila had made a decision of their own. Together, the two of them. And now I was to receive and accept this news. The words I’d studied in French class popped to mind: un fait accompli. It was a done deal.