Well Behaved Wives(81)

“Even while in hospital beds, bandaged and in casts, many girls believe they’ve ‘asked for it,’” Shirley said. “And if they don’t at first, the fact no one believes them makes them question their own sanity, their own part in the problem.”

Ruth couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it go. “We’ve got to do something before it’s too late.”

Shirley put a hand on her daughter-in-law’s shoulder. “I understand how you feel, believe me. Nonetheless, no one has ever strong-armed or guilted women into accepting help.”

Ruth couldn’t believe it. She agreed with her mother-in-law again.





Chapter 29


LILLIAN

At nine o’clock on Saturday morning, Lillian sat on the patio’s wicker rocker, a steaming cup of coffee in hand to warm and wake her as she breathed in the cool fall air.

Fall. The season of change.

Lillian still hadn’t accepted Carrie’s decision to stay with Eli, but she had resigned herself to that fact. All she could do was hope that it would all work out, that maybe Carrie would be the one person whose husband would change.

Today wasn’t going to be errand day. This was the day Lillian would introduce her daughters to their grandmother, so she’d chosen elegance over function and worn her tan gabardine suit.

In her make-believe memory, her mother had sported a similar outfit. It would have matched her light-brown hair, which now looked many shades lighter due to the gray. Her mother rarely wore a suit—she had been partial to skirts and blouses, and seemed to be, still. An unintentional preference from the past? A favorite of hers?

Either way, the choices were a hint of the woman Lillian had known, and that comforted her, made her hope that the mother she knew would somehow reveal herself to the next generation.

Anna would have had a Gimbels discount, but her clothes had never been showy or posh—or even good. But she had been beautiful, with a round face, big blue eyes, and petite nose and mouth, all pleasantly positioned and proportioned. Lovely had been a word associated with Anna not only for her looks but also for her disposition.

The same was said about Penny.

Pearls lost their luster, and flowers lost their vibrancy—and so had Anna lost much of her own shine and bloom. But she was not the one who needed to change; it was Lillian. And the world that Lillian’s children inhabited. Today was the first step toward that.

As she walked into the house to refresh her cup of coffee, Pammie and Penny raced down the stairs.

They passed their father in the foyer and galloped into the kitchen, where they’d soon delight in the cinnamon buns Lillian had set out on the table.

Peter twiddled his fingers as he paced the foyer. Lillian knew why he was worried. They were adults and even they had trouble visiting the mental institution. How would their girls react?

Lillian channeled the sane part of her mother and offered Anna’s solution for anxiety. “Come have some cinnamon buns. You’ll feel better.”

In the kitchen, Pammie gulped her milk. “What should I call her? I don’t want to call her Grandma, since I never met her before.”

Peter looked at Lillian for guidance. “That’s fine,” she said. “It might confuse her, anyway. Just call her Anna.”

“Can we ask to see her scar?” Pammie rubbed her arm.

“No.” Penny shook her head.

“Then how do we know it happened?”

“It’s important to believe our friends and family,” Lillian said. “Even if it’s hard to do. It’s our job to be open-minded. Do you know what that means?”

Pammie nodded. “It means trusting someone even if you don’t want to?”

Peter smiled. “Not exactly. Being open-minded means seeing things in new ways. Or seeing people in new ways, even if it’s hard.”

Lillian grabbed Pammie’s hand. “If you ever told me someone hurt you, I would believe you—even though it would make me sad and angry that it happened.”

“Don’t worry about me, I wouldn’t allow it. I would kick him in the—”

Lillian stomped her foot. “Pamela Rachel, don’t be fresh!”

“Well, I would.”

Peter cleared his throat, flustered at the bluntness. “That’s no way for a lady to talk.”

But it was exactly how Lillian wanted her daughters, and all girls, to think. She cleared the table. “How about this? If a boy or a man is unkind to you, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, tell me and Daddy. We promise to believe you and help you.”

“What if you really like him?” Penny asked.

Lillian’s father’s smile popped to mind. A memory of sweet cigar aromas filled her nose. What would she have done? Would she have turned on the father she loved? Then she thought about Anna, being taken to the institution, being robbed of her freedom, of her family. “Yes, you tell us—especially if we like him. You’re more important.”

Peter’s eyes filled. “Always.”

Yes, Lillian understood, Peter was on her side, on their side. It wouldn’t always be easy. Perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be. It would be difficult when she got the courage to tell him how she wanted to change her life—their lives.

“Why didn’t your mother tell her mom and dad?” Penny asked.