Read Illusions of Love Online

Authors: Cynthia Freeman

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General, #Jewish

Illusions of Love (30 page)

“Well, Jenny,” he said, smiling, ‘we’ll check as a matter of form, but I’ll be very surprised if my manager doesn’t call you tomorrow offering you that job. “

“Thank you,” Jenny said. The job would take care of the future, but she still had to get through the next twenty-four hours. Her rent was paid until the end of the week, but how could she go another day without food? Gathering her courage, she said hesitantly, “Mr. Worthington, I know this is an unusual request, but do you think that you could make me a small loan? I’m completely without funds and you could wit hold the amount from my first pay cheque.”

“I think that could be arranged,” said Cyrus, pleased to learn the girl was utterly penniless.

“How much do you need?”

Jenny wanted to ask for fifty dollars but she decided twenty-five sounded more reasonable. As long as she didn’t have to wait two weeks for her first cheque, she’d be fine.

Cyrus took out his wallet, thrust the bills into her hand, and then insisted she have a cup of coffee before she left.

Back in her room, after enjoying the first satisfactory meal she’d eaten in weeks. Jenny decided that perhaps the worst was over. She’d been so frightened the last few months about securing the necessities of life, she had hardly thought of Martin. Now, as she drifted off to sleep she wondered if he’d recognize the new Jenny. The one who worried about paying for her next meal, who had decided to survive no matter what the cost, who took on the world armoured with a determined selfishness and lack of concern for other people.

The first month she worked in the bank, Cyrus kept a respectful distance. She would see him welcoming visitors to his office, going out to lunch, or occasionally staring at

 

her legs when he thought she wasn’t looking. Then one evening when she was working late totalling up her deposit slips, he came over to her teller’s cage.

“When you’re done, Jenny,” he said, eyeing the manager, who was waiting to close, ‘stop by and see me. “

Jenny finished up and went over to Cyrus’s office, hoping that she was not about to lose her job.

“Sit down, my dear,” he said, motioning to a chair. Jenny decided he would not look so relaxed if he were about to fire her.

“I wanted to tell you what a fine job you’re doing,” he said.

“It was a lucky day for us when you fainted away here.”

Jenny thought that perhaps this was the time to mention a raise. Her salary was almost a joke.

“Mr. Worthington,” she began softly, “I want you to know how grateful I am to you. I really love working here, but I am finding it difficult to make ends meet. Do you think in the next few months it would be possible for me to get a raise?”

Cyrus smiled. He liked the modest way she asked.

“I’ll mention it to the manager. I think you can count on an extra twenty a week at the end of your third month.”

Jenny was overcome with joy, though she was aware that even with the increase she would be making less than half her salary at Elmo.

“I do want to thank you, Mr. Worthington, so very much.”

“Not at all, my dear. Now I wonder if you might do me the honour of having Sunday luncheon at my house.”

Jenny wasn’t quite sure she wanted any personal relationship with Cyrus, but she wasn’t about to jeopardize her job, so she smiled and nodded.

“I’ll have my car come around for you at noon.”

On Sunday, Cyrus’s driver picked her up promptly at noon and they rode about twenty minutes out of town before turning into an overgrown drive lined on either side with massive oaks that must have been over a hundred years old. Jenny felt an odd premonition of evil as she entered the large, shabby hall.

 

A black houseboy guided her straight to the dining room, where she found Cyrus standing before an enormous retracting table that would easily have seated twenty. The only other diner appeared to be an overweight teenager whose blank stare and protruding tongue gave Jenny the chills. The young girl was clearly a mongoloid.

“We eat very promptly here,” Cyrus said, apologizing for not serving drinks.

“My daughter must keep a strict schedule. She’s diabetic.” He smiled at the girl, who shrank back against her chair.

“Now, Linda Mae, say hello to our guest. Jenny McCoy. Jenny, this is my daughter, Linda Mae.”

At his insistent look, the girl put out her hand. As Jenny leaned forward to shake it she noticed a dull blue shadow running along the girl’s right cheek. A bruise? Following her gaze, Cyrus said, “Our poor baby Linda Mae had a little mishap today. She tripped on the stair carpet. Well, don’t you fret baby. Daddy’s gonna have that tear fixed.”

Throughout the meal Jenny was touched by his tender concern for his daughter. He gently wiped her hand when she tried to eat her mashed potatoes with her fingers and gently substituted a fork. Jenny wondered why he had not thought to mention that he had an obviously retarded child, but decided it was probably too painful a subject for him to mention. Although gossip at the bank said his wife had had a nervous breakdown before she died over ten years ago, no one had mentioned the girl. Looking up as the houseboy served a rich pecan pie. Jenny smiled across the table and was pleased when Linda Mae smiled back.

Afterwards Linda Mae was taken upstairs and Cyrus and Jenny spent a pleasant afternoon on the veranda. Several times he looked as if he wanted to ask her a question, but each time seemed to restrain himself, creating an awkward pause in the conversation.

It wasn’t until the next Sunday when Cyrus again invited her out to dinner that he was able to muster his courage and mention what he had in mind.

They were sitting over coffee in the drawing room when

 

he leaned forward and took her hand.

“Jenny,” he said, “I have a favour to ask you. But you must feel free to say no. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

“Please, Cyrus. I can’t imagine your doing that.”

He held her hand more tightly and for a moment Jenny felt uneasy.

“My dear,” he said, ‘it would make me so happy if you would be friends with Linda Mae. “

Jenny didn’t answer immediately. It was such an odd request. Finally, she found words.

“Of course I’d like to be of help,” she began, ‘but Linda Mae and I are ‘ “Worlds apart. I know that. But you are so kind, so sweet, you would be so good for her. She’s never been close to anyone since her mother took sick. I think that’s why she has made so little progress. Do you think you could find it in your heart to befriend her?”

Jenny hesitated. For the first time since Martin left her, she felt a small crack in the ice that had closed around her heart. Cyrus had been so kind to her. Maybe if she reciprocated, she would start building a future instead of just living in the past. Filled with genuine compassion, she said, “I’ll try.”

As the weeks became months, Jenny did reach out to Linda Mae, who began to flower under the attention. Her table manners improved and she was able to concentrate better on the simple tasks set by her tutor. She still remained clumsy and Jenny would frequently arrive to find her nursing a new black and blue mark, but she seemed so much happier. Jenny could not help being pleased and Cyrus was positively delighted.

After three months, when Jenny’s visits had increased to three or four times a week, he asked her to give up her room and move in.

“You’ll be well chaperoned,” Cyrus said and Jenny smiled, wondering what he’d say if he knew about her behaviour in Chicago. All she said was, “Well, Cyrus, I’d like that. My little room is awfully depressing and this way I’ll have so much more time with Linda Mae.”

 

One night after dinner, when she’d been living in the house for a couple of weeks, Cyrus sought Jenny out in the library.

“My dear,” he said, sitting in a chair across the room.

“I’m so glad this has worked out. It seems to suit you too. You look so much better than when we met. I hope that means you’re happy here.”

“Oh, yes. You must know that. You’ve been so kind to me.”

He moved his chair a little closer.

“Not as kind as I would like to be.”

Jenny started and Cyrus realized he’d moved too quickly. He got up and went to the small bar near the fireplace where he poured them each a brandy.

Jenny, who had drunk very little since leaving Chicago, felt the liquor go right to her head. It was as if from a distance she heard Cyrus say, “Jenny, my dear, don’t be offended. What I was trying to say is that this house has come to life again since your arrival.

Linda Mae is not the same girl and even the servants have responded to your charm. I don’t quite know how to thank you. “

Unsure how to respond, Jenny just smiled and sipped her brandy.

Cyrus continued almost as if to himself.

“Having you here has brought me the only happiness I’ve known in years. What good is my money if I have no one to spend it on? Linda Mae can’t be considered a real companion. Look around me. Everything is meaningless without you here to enjoy it. For the first time I realize how shabby I’ve let things get. A house like this needs an intelligent woman to restore its grace, just as Linda Mae needs a loving companion to help her fulfill even her limited potential. Oh, Jenny, Linda Mae and I would be destroyed if you left us.”

Jenny remained silent. She guessed where the conversation was leading, but felt powerless to interrupt the man who had been so good to her.

“I know I’m old enough to be your father, but I love you

 

and want to take care of you. Do you think in time you could return my affection? “

Jenny knew she should stop Cyrus before he committed himself further, but he had been kinder to her than anybody in the world. He had showered her with gifts. It was impossible not to like him, and more than once she had pretended that he was the father who had abandoned her. If she rejected his proposal she would have to move out, and she no longer believed she could survive alone. She remembered looking down from her eighth-floor room in Chicago, wanting to jump.

Forcing herself to look him in the eyes, she said, “I already do care for you, Cyrus, but ” You needn’t finish. I know what you’re going to say. But, Jenny, one must be sensible. You have no family, no one to care for you. I can provide for you for the rest of your life. Sometimes security and peace of mind are more important than passion. The fever of first love can burn out. Respect and affection last. Jenny, please say that you will marry me. “

Jenny stood up.

“Can you give me some time?”

“Take all the time in the world, darling. I’ll wait. Now you must be tired. Run on up to bed.”

Jenny hurried from the room, anxious to be alone to think. She ran upstairs without a backward glance and did not see Cyrus looking at her with barely disguised lust, or see his powerful hands balled into fists against his sides.

In her room with the pretty canopied bed and the new wallpaper Cyrus had insisted on hanging for her. Jenny considered her situation carefully. What had life brought her up to now? Her childhood had been spent with crazy Cora Belle, who had all but beaten her to death. She had built a career only to lose it by her impulsive move to Chicago.

Her first real love affair with Martin had all but destroyed her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Cyrus was offering her the greatest opportunity of her life. Forget love. Look what it had brought her. If she married Cyrus, she would be a

respected member of the community. She would never again have to cringe before the priest in the confessional. She could live the rest of her life in security and comfort with a man who had proven himself nothing but kind. What difference did it make if he wasn’t tall and handsome like Martin Roth? She would be good to him, take care of his house, look after his daughter. Yes, she would marry Cyrus and she would make sure he would never regret asking her.

The next night after dinner Cyrus and Jenny went into the garden, leaving Linda Mae to watch television. He took Jenny’s hand and guided her to the stone bench under the magnolia tree. Sitting next to her he said, “It’s lovely out here, like the garden of Eden. Whenever I feel upset or down I sit on this bench for a while and my problems seem to disappear. You have that same effect. When I’m with you the only feeling I have is happiness. I’m hoping that I will be able to enjoy such contentment the rest of my life. Have you thought further about my offer. Jenny?”

“Yes, Cyrus, lhave. And I would be proud to marry you.”

“Oh, Jenny.”

He took her in his arms, but when he kissed her, his tongue urgently parting her lips, she felt suddenly uneasy. She reminded herself that Cyrus was a good man and that physical passion had only brought her grief. Gently pulling away, she stood, saying, “Let’s go in and tell Linda Mae. You know this will make her so happy.”

Cyrus was determined to give Jenny the grandest wedding Biloxi had ever seen. The day after Jenny said yes he called Cartier and arranged to have his mother’s diamonds reset into a stunning engagement ring.

Then he insisted she order her wedding dress from the most expensive store in New Orleans. In the next six weeks painters and plasterers swarmed over the house, restoring its Southern grandeur. Cyrus planned to have the ceremony in the house and the reception in a tent in the garden. He was a little taken aback when Jenny said she had no one she wished to invite, but he didn’t press and went cheerfully on with his elaborate plans with the menu, imported wines, and a string quartet.

 

As the day grew closer, Jenny became increasingly nervous. Some nights she woke up shaking, having dreamed she was back with Martin. Other nights she lay awake almost until dawn, trying to convince herself that she had made the right the only decision.

Finally the day of the wedding came. Jenny went through the ceremony and mingled with the guests as if in a dream. She made sure Linda Mae behaved and had all she wanted to eat, but aside from caring for the girl she left everything else to Cyrus. It was only when the last guest was ushered out and Linda Mae had gone up to bed that she felt a shiver of real fear.

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