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Authors: Penelope Stokes
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like a limp rag doll when the sheriff cut the rope. It wasn't Daddy who was carried out the back door with his face grotesquely blue and his eyes wide open. It was The Body
The Body was now at the undertaker's, being prepared, she supposed, for their friends and acquaintances to view in all its mortal finality She hoped they could cover up the angry red burn around the throat, could close its eyes and restore its color and make it back into a semblance of the man so many people had depended upon.
She would grieve later, she expected, but right now the prevailing emotions were horror and emptiness. Would she ever be able to purge her memory of the sight of him hanging over her? And what would happen to them now? Who would walk her down the aisle and give her away to Philip Dorn on her wedding day?
A shudder ran through her, and her mother squeezed even tighter.
The sheriff was still at it. People who committed suicide usually left a note, he said, and that brutal word, suicide, sliced through her like a razor. At last Pastor Archer stood up and cleared his throat. "With your permission, Maris, I'll go up to Randolph's study and see if I can find anything."
Mother nodded, and the pastor left the room, followed by the sheriff. Adora rose and went to sit next to her mother, and Philip took the seat next to Letitia. He put one hand on her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his touch through her blouse.
"Now, Maris," Stuart Dorn began, "we need to talk about how we're going to handle this."
"I don't know how I'm going to handle it," Mother whispered.
"What my husband means," Alice Dorn put in, "is how we're going to present it to other people."
Tish looked up, and suddenly her mind registered the emotion that filled her future mother-in-law's face. It wasn't sympathy, or even compassion. It was f ear.
"You know how people talk, Maris," Stuart continued. "If word gets out that Randolph, well, took his own life, the gossipmongers will never let it go. Your life will be ruined."
"What life?" Mother muttered viciously. "I have no life without Randolph."
Startled, Tish looked into her mother's face. She meant it, every word of it. With a flash of recognition, Tish saw her parents not from the viewpoint of a child, but with the eyes of an adult. Mother had truly loved Daddy, not for his money or his status, but for himself. Everything she didâthe elaborate parties, the attempts to fit into polite societyâshe had done for him, out of love. Tish had known for a long time that this wasn't Mother's world, this world of aristocratic propriety and social decorum. She would have been happy in a modest little house with a picket fence and middle-class neighbors. She had done it all for Daddy.
"I know you feel that way now, dear," Alice crooned. "But eventually you'll move beyond the grief. Life goes on, you know. And you wouldn't want to be known as the widow of a man who wasâwell, not right."
"Not right?" Mother flared. "Crazy, you mean? Randolph was not crazy. He was troubled, certainly, by all this upheaval in the stock market, but he was notâ"
Big Eleanor moaned loudly and closed her eyes.
"Maris," Stuart resumed softly, "let me say this as gently, but as directly, as I can. You must hear me, now. You know that Randolph was not insane. We know it. But people automatically assume that when a person takes his own life, there must be something wrong with him. Mentally."
Whatever progress Mother had made over the years in developing the social graces vanished in that instant. "Just spit it out, Stuart. What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting," he answered smoothly, "that we keep the cause of Randolph's untimely demise right here, in this room. Given the circumstances, I'm sure the sheriff would agree not to disclose the manner of death."
"You're sure the sheriff would agree to what?"
Tish looked around. The sheriff and Adora's father had returned, and Pastor Archer was carrying a thick file
The Body was now at the undertaker's, being prepared, she supposed, for their friends and acquaintances to view in all its mortal finality She hoped they could cover up the angry red burn around the throat, could close its eyes and restore its color and make it back into a semblance of the man so many people had depended upon.
She would grieve later, she expected, but right now the prevailing emotions were horror and emptiness. Would she ever be able to purge her memory of the sight of him hanging over her? And what would happen to them now? Who would walk her down the aisle and give her away to Philip Dorn on her wedding day?
A shudder ran through her, and her mother squeezed even tighter.
The sheriff was still at it. People who committed suicide usually left a note, he said, and that brutal word, suicide, sliced through her like a razor. At last Pastor Archer stood up and cleared his throat. "With your permission, Maris, I'll go up to Randolph's study and see if I can find anything."
Mother nodded, and the pastor left the room, followed by the sheriff. Adora rose and went to sit next to her mother, and Philip took the seat next to Letitia. He put one hand on her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his touch through her blouse.
"Now, Maris," Stuart Dorn began, "we need to talk about how we're going to handle this."
"I don't know how I'm going to handle it," Mother whispered.
"What my husband means," Alice Dorn put in, "is how we're going to present it to other people."
Tish looked up, and suddenly her mind registered the emotion that filled her future mother-in-law's face. It wasn't sympathy, or even compassion. It was f ear.
"You know how people talk, Maris," Stuart continued. "If word gets out that Randolph, well, took his own life, the gossipmongers will never let it go. Your life will be ruined."
"What life?" Mother muttered viciously. "I have no life without Randolph."
Startled, Tish looked into her mother's face. She meant it, every word of it. With a flash of recognition, Tish saw her parents not from the viewpoint of a child, but with the eyes of an adult. Mother had truly loved Daddy, not for his money or his status, but for himself. Everything she didâthe elaborate parties, the attempts to fit into polite societyâshe had done for him, out of love. Tish had known for a long time that this wasn't Mother's world, this world of aristocratic propriety and social decorum. She would have been happy in a modest little house with a picket fence and middle-class neighbors. She had done it all for Daddy.
"I know you feel that way now, dear," Alice crooned. "But eventually you'll move beyond the grief. Life goes on, you know. And you wouldn't want to be known as the widow of a man who wasâwell, not right."
"Not right?" Mother flared. "Crazy, you mean? Randolph was not crazy. He was troubled, certainly, by all this upheaval in the stock market, but he was notâ"
Big Eleanor moaned loudly and closed her eyes.
"Maris," Stuart resumed softly, "let me say this as gently, but as directly, as I can. You must hear me, now. You know that Randolph was not insane. We know it. But people automatically assume that when a person takes his own life, there must be something wrong with him. Mentally."
Whatever progress Mother had made over the years in developing the social graces vanished in that instant. "Just spit it out, Stuart. What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting," he answered smoothly, "that we keep the cause of Randolph's untimely demise right here, in this room. Given the circumstances, I'm sure the sheriff would agree not to disclose the manner of death."
"You're sure the sheriff would agree to what?"
Tish looked around. The sheriff and Adora's father had returned, and Pastor Archer was carrying a thick file
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