Authors: Robin Schwarz
“Be positive, Charlotte. You have a lot of good things going for you. And all of this is going to be taken into consideration.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly while an old Joey Bishop joke kept running through her head: “Who am I going to believe, you or my eyes?”
T
HE JUDGE’S GAVEL CAME DOWN
and bail was set. The Gorham contingent sat quietly during most of the public hearing, except when the bail amount was announced.
“Two hundred thousand dollars?” Whispers and exclamations reverberated throughout the room. Charlotte sat back and looked at the wall. Clearly, she was going back to jail for a long, long time. As she was escorted from the court, the women cheered her on.
“It will all work out, Charlotte!” “Hang in there!” “We’re on your side!”
“MaryAnn!” Charlotte yelled.
MaryAnn walked quickly over to Charlotte. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Yes, what? Anything.”
“Call my friend Dolly. Tell her what’s going on. She has no idea.”
MaryAnn grabbed a pen out of her bag. “What’s her number?”
She scribbled it quickly on her hand as Charlotte was being escorted back to jail. “And tell her to call Skip,” she yelled back.
As Charlotte disappeared through the doors of the damned, MaryAnn turned back to her brigade of believers. “We’ve got to do something, girls,” she implored.
“Yeah!” someone else chimed in.
“We have to,” another agreed.
“Right now.”
“Yeah, right now.”
And then a pause fell over the rally. No one had a clue what to do.
“We’ll raise the bail,” exclaimed Dottie Spencer.
“How on earth will we do that?” questioned Grace Poole.
“Shhh,” MaryAnn said. “Go on, Dottie, let’s hear your plan.”
“It’s two hundred thousand dollars, MaryAnn,” Grace said again. “That’s a lot of bake sales.”
“Don’t be so negative, “ MaryAnn protested. “Maybe we can’t do it on your rhubarb pies, but we can do this. Among all of us, we can raise this money.”
“If only Edgar Halfpenny didn’t go broke. He could have put up this money in no time flat,” Grace said.
“He didn’t go broke,” MaryAnn reminded her. “He gave his money to charity.”
“Same thing,” Grace grumbled. “Why he did that, I’ll never know.”
“I think it was the Lord that told him to do it,” Happy chimed in. “At least that’s what I heard.”
“I ask the Lord for money every day and get passed right over. The Lord could have given me some of that money. Edgar only lives two doors down, for heaven’s sake. It’s a pretty short commute, especially for the Lord.”
“I think he gave it away because he saw others had more need for it than he did,” Happy said.
“Well, whatever the reason, he did it, so let’s not dwell on it.”
“Stan and I have some money saved,” Happy admitted. “Three thousand dollars. We can at least start it off.”
“No, we don’t have to go into our savings quite yet. Let’s see what we can raise first,” MaryAnn said. “Maybe Charlotte has some money left.”
Everyone looked around at one another, weighing the possibility. A pall settled. They knew she didn’t.
“And even if she doesn’t have any money left, there’s hundreds of us!” Addie Latham exclaimed. “If she can figure out how to get out of Gorham, we can certainly figure out how to get her out of jail.”
Cheers prevailed again.
MaryAnn looked at her watch. “I’m going over right now and see if I can talk to Charlotte, ladies. She needs a pep talk. Let’s meet at my house tonight at six-thirty. We’ll make some kind of plan then.”
“Tom won’t mind?”
“Don’t worry about Tom. See you tonight. Six-thirty sharp.”
And so it was done. A plan was in the works. True, it had no clear idea or strategy or design, but what it lacked in direction was more than made up in enthusiasm and hope.
MaryAnn waited in the cubicle in the visiting room. Charlotte scuffed in, looking defeated. She picked up the phone.
“I called Dolly shortly after the arraignment, Charlotte.”
“How is she?”
“Fine. She told me to tell you that Skip’s fine, too.” MaryAnn tried to sound upbeat. “He’s doing everything he can to try and help. He’s got some lawyer friends in Boston who are getting in touch with your lawyer.”
“They’re entertainment lawyers. What can they possibly do? Book me singing engagements in maximum-security prisons?” It was clear: Charlotte’s depression had crossed the line into desperation, anxiety into anger.
“I’m sure he knows normal lawyers, Charlotte. He’s not going to send up Don King to help you. And Dolly told me that Skip is planning to come here.”
“Planning to come here? Oh, God, it would be so good to see him. I miss him; I really miss him. And how’s Dolly, MaryAnn? Is she good?”
“She’s worried.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were doing as well as could be expected. I didn’t mention the bail money. I wanted to talk to you about that....So, Charlotte, how are you doing?” MaryAnn asked. It was a rhetorical question. She could see how Charlotte was simply by looking at her face; the sadness in her eyes traveled for miles, but painfully arrived back at its own end of the road.
“I’m never going to get out of here, and you know what the worst part is? The way I’ll be remembered. It’s exactly what happened to James Cagney. Did you know he was this really, really kind man? That he was a good father and a faithful husband? Did you know he wrote poetry and painted? He even kept a garden, like me. Remember my garden? Tomatoes, corn, and geraniums? But is that what Mr. Cagney’s remembered for? No. He’s remembered as that sociopath in
The Public Enemy.
That’s how I’m gonna be remembered now, too.”
“That’s not true, Charlotte. You’ll be remembered as the only woman who was ever willing to take a chance in this godforsaken town. As someone who was loved and valued and who opened our eyes to what the heck life’s all about. Living it fully and...and... with love. And there’s not a soul who ever had one of your tomatoes who will ever forget how good it was! But I don’t want to talk about how you’re going to be remembered, because even as we speak, the girls are putting together a plan.”
“They are?” Charlotte’s eyes opened as wide as curtains, ready to let any hope of sun in.
“Yes, they are. The women of Gorham are going to raise the money for your bail.”
“What...? Why? How?”
“How? I’m not sure how. Somehow. That’s all I know.”
“I’m so touched by this, it’s amazing, but honestly, MaryAnn, these women work hard for every dime they have. They can’t do this. I don’t want them to. I don’t want you to. No, it’s enough that you want to. Face it, I just have to pay the piper. Hopefully, Bloomberg will figure out a good deal for me.” Charlotte looked down. MaryAnn tapped on the window with the phone.
“Don’t you go sad on me, Charlotte. Don’t you give up. There are too many women depending on you.”
“Depending on me?”
“Yes. Happy Turner and Dottie Spencer. Sally Adams Baxter, Jane Root, Sophia Bea, Cassie Winthrop, me, to name just a few. All those women who were in court today? Well, they all want to get you out of here.”
“Why?”
“Because you did it. You took a chance. You went to Hollywood; you lived; you fell in love. You did everything that we’ve only dreamed about. You can’t give up on us now. We’re not giving up on you.”
Charlotte stared at MaryAnn through the streaky bulletproof barricade. She hadn’t realized that she meant so much to these women. It gave her a newfound zeal. She was a hero of sorts. Charlotte Clapp, a person who was looked up to! How odd. How amazing.
“I won’t give up, MaryAnn. I won’t. Tell Cassie and Dottie and Happy and everyone else, I won’t give up.” If she could have marched to a John Philip Sousa tune, carrying a flag, and done a split jump at that very moment, she would have. Charlotte had made her mark. She had a legacy after all! And it was better than what money could buy. Better than a statue or a whole mountain range being named after you. It was love.
“Good,” MaryAnn said, satisfied.
“By the way, MaryAnn, what happened to my house here in Gorham? Is it still there?” Charlotte asked, wondering if there was any money to be had there.
“The bank repossessed it.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“Don’t worry. The Auxiliary is having a meeting tonight at my house. You don’t know just how formidable we can be, Charlotte. We got that miniature golf course built, didn’t we?”
“Yes, you did.”
“We stopped that bookstore from selling that book with all those dirty pictures in it. Who was that by, again? Mapleleaf, Mapletree, Maple-syrup... something like that. I just remember the owner of the bookstore calling it art. Art! Ahhh. Remember that, Charlotte?”
“Yes, I certainly do.” Although Charlotte had thought it was art, and still did.
“And who got permission to not only have those flowers planted on Middle Street every spring but got the town to pay for it, too?”
“The Ladies’ Auxiliary.”
“Damn straight. So this is just another challenge.”
Charlotte smiled. It wasn’t quite the same thing, but it was good enough. It had to be.
“Now you go and relax.” MaryAnn paused. “Is that an appropriate thing to say?”
“Oh, sure. I got this great entertainment system with a built-in bar. Actually, several built-in bars. I haven’t counted, but I will tonight when I run my spoon down them.”
MaryAnn smiled. Charlotte’s humor was still intact.
“It’s not so bad. Just when I think I can’t stand it another minute, I remember a Jackie Mason or Joan Rivers routine and realize how much worse it could be. I could have tickets to their show tonight. Laugh when you’re under fire, MaryAnn. Dolly taught me that.” She paused. “MaryAnn, why are you doing this for me? I mean, it’s been so long since we’ve been friends, and you’ve just risen to the occasion like nothing I ever expected.”
“I’ll tell you why, Charlotte. I’ll tell you exactly why.”
And just when MaryAnn was about to tell her, that booming, gravelly voice of the guard came down like a sledgehammer.
“Wrap it up. The party’s over.”
“Charlotte, I’ve got to go. But I’ll be back tomorrow, and I promise to tell you everything.”
W
HEN
M
ARY
A
NN APPEARED
in the visitors’ booth the next day, she looked different. Less made up, less coiffed. It seemed she was letting her hair down in some way, and in fact, it was down, dropping gently just above her shoulders. She also looked more tired, as if their reunion had taken its toll the night before. She sat down and slouched toward the window. It looked as if she was leaning toward her confessor. Charlotte lifted the phone.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. And I had so much I wanted to tell you. I haven’t stopped thinking about us since the first time we spoke. So now I think it’s time for me to talk a little bit about what happened. I could hardly sleep last night, going over everything in my head again and again. The good times, the bad, what went wrong and why.”
MaryAnn paused as if she had just come up for air and was about to dive down again.
“First of all, I think it’s my turn to apologize.”
Charlotte started to say something, but MaryAnn held her fingers to her lips.
“I’ve been thinking about this long and hard, Charlotte, so let me just get it out in one straight shot if I’m to get it out at all.” Charlotte nodded and remained silent. “I shouldn’t have held you responsible for T. J.’s death the way I did. I can see that, too late as it is, but I never should have done that. I was distraught. Out of my mind, really, and I needed someone to blame, so I blamed you.”
“It’s all right, MaryAnn.”
“I swear, Charlotte, let me get this out. I’ve been practicing all night. You gotta let me get through it.” Charlotte nodded. “So where was I? Oh, right. When I won Tom away from you, I felt triumph. Yes, I got the prize. But when I was actually married, actually in the marriage, it was awful, and I blamed you.”
Charlotte was stunned by this bit of the confession. She always thought Tom and MaryAnn had a good marriage, a perfect marriage.
“I didn’t blame Tom, and I didn’t blame myself. How could I? I’d have to wake up every day and look in the mirror and take responsibility for the stupidest thing I’d ever done. And the reason I couldn’t blame Tom was because as miserable as he made me, he was all I had. So he became exempt from everything. How can I explain it, Charlotte?
“It’s like when a woman finds out her husband is having an affair with another woman. The other woman may not even know the man is married—maybe she was lied to, as well—but the wife hates the woman and forgives the husband. It’s easier to hate someone outside the relationship. That way, for better or worse, the relationship can stay intact.
“It’s too hard to continue living with a man you hate, so you hate the other woman. And to me that other woman was you. If you hadn’t been dating him, I wouldn’t have wanted him. I know it’s completely irrational, but it’s where I put my anger. It was easier to be mad at you, just as it was easier to be mad at you regarding T. J.
“But by the time the truth caught up with me, it was too late, too damn late. There was this awful moment when I could see everything more clearly than I ever had before. I could see who I should have blamed... every time I looked in the mirror.
“But I had to hang on to that anger, Charlotte. I’d already built a life around that anger, so to let it go would mean I’d have been living my whole life as a lie. It would mean the house I was living in was sadly and simply just a house of cards.”
This sounded so similar to the way Skip felt about life with Jeannie.
How odd so many of us live our lives this way,
she thought.
MaryAnn took a deep and sorrowful breath, as if she were exhaling all the days and nights of her life.
“You were completely unselfish, and I... well, I got it all turned around, Charlotte. So I’m sorry. So very, very sorry.”