Well Behaved Wives(90)

Lillian didn’t care. “We need to switch gears and get Carrie to whatever is next for her.” She would do it herself if she had to. Carrie might be physically safe from Eli, but the mental and emotional repercussions of what had happened were evident in her red-rimmed stare.

“Let’s find out what she wants,” Lillian said. “I venture no one has asked her that in a long time.”

Shirley smiled.

By late afternoon, the rain had completely stopped, and the September sun was poking out from behind a few high clouds. Lillian ignored the lure of the radio dial and opted for quiet in the car as they drove Carrie to the bus station downtown. Lillian looked at Carrie in the passenger seat, head turned, staring out the window. Thank God she was safe. Lillian wasn’t surprised that Carrie was despondent—she’d just lost her husband. But Ruth, Irene, and Harriet in the back seat were unusually quiet too.

Lillian understood why Carrie wanted to go home to Atlantic City, but it made no sense that she didn’t want to telephone her family to let them know she was coming.

“I’ll tell them in person,” Carrie had said before they’d left Wynnefield. “It’s going to be hard for them to hear Eli is gone, let alone anything else.”

“But you’re going to tell them what he was really like?” Ruth asked.

Carrie shrugged. “They might want to know why I’m not planning the funeral. I’ll tell them his sister is doing it because I’m too upset.” She shrugged again.

Lillian recognized uncertainty in Carrie’s downcast eyes and could surmise what she was probably thinking. She feared being blamed, or not believed, the way Lillian’s grandparents had blamed or doubted her mother.

Lillian shook her head to dispel the memory. She was sorry Carrie had been in danger, but at the same time, she was glad the women had stepped in to help her. For the first time in a long while, she’d felt a part of something important, something bigger than herself. Without saying much, Lillian had used her voice and made it clear to herself and to others what was critical—the safety and happiness of her friends.

Happiness had taken on a new meaning. It had more facets than a few hard-and-fast rules in a book.

When they reached the bus depot, Lillian pulled up to the curb. Ruth, Irene, and Harriet slid out of the back seat and lifted Carrie’s two suitcases out of the car. When Lillian started to leave the car to see Carrie off, Carrie stayed in her seat and turned to her.

“Thank you for everything,” Carrie said.

“It was all of us,” Lillian said. “And you’re welcome.”

“I mean for the etiquette lessons. Without them, I would never have met you all. Would have had no one to turn to. So thank you for having me, for teaching me.”

“It was nothing,” Lillian said.

Carrie touched her hand. “Oh, you’re wrong. You taught me to trust my friends and reminded me what it was like to have fun.”

Fun? “I don’t think—”

“Oh, I know that wasn’t the point,” Carrie said.

Yet why not? Lillian thought. Isn’t that the reason to have etiquette? To be graceful and kind—to enjoy life and each other? “It should have been the only point,” Lillian said, feeling suddenly humbled.

“It was one of the first things you told us—that we’d learn who our friends are. And I did. You kept your promise.” Carrie squeezed Lillian’s hand.

Lillian swallowed a sob and squeezed back, and Carrie stepped out of the car into the circled embrace of her friends. Lillian had done something good with those etiquette lessons—maybe without realizing it. She’d connected these girls to each other, to her, and to Shirley. They were the right people at the right time, and her lessons, meant for propriety and social grace, had taught them compassion and chutzpah.

In many ways, she had Ruth to thank for that too. Ruth’s brazen questioning had turned them all into more courageous women.

There were tears on every face as she watched Carrie leave with her bags. Tears of sadness, and tears of hope for a better life for their friend.

When they got back into the car, it surprised Lillian that it was Harriet who slid into the passenger seat. Of all the girls, perhaps she should be most proud of the change in Harriet. Not because of who she was or how she’d acted, but because of how much she’d had to change and how, when the time came, she stood up for what was right.

Lillian listened to the girls’ banter about keeping their relationship going with Carrie. Grand plans for letter writing, visiting the baby, beach antics. This reminded Lillian of how young the girls were—there was nary a mention of Carrie’s loss. No one talked of what it would be like for Carrie to be a young widow, to raise her child alone. To try to support her family on one income while paying for childcare.

Losing Eli meant different challenges for Carrie than living with him, but her life would be challenging all the same. Reminders of living in Wynnefield would likely be unwelcome. It would be enough that she’d be reminded of Eli whenever she looked at her little boy or girl. Reminded of how he died. Of how he hurt her. Of how he might have hurt their child.

Carrie would need to move on. To heal. It wouldn’t be easy. Reminders of this place could hold her back.

In truth, it was unlikely these girls would ever see Carrie again. But that was not Lillian’s lesson to teach. She would let time handle that one.