Shadows on a Maine Christmas (Antique Print Mystery Series Book 7) (17 page)

“I still have nightmares about it,” said Aunt Nettie. “But it was so long ago, that’s what it all seems. A nightmare. Which deepened when I realized I was pregnant.”

“She was incredibly brave,” put in Ruth. “She didn’t tell anyone except the three of us from Waymouth—me and Mary and Susan—and she swore us all to secrecy. Even today I think many young women are embarrassed if they’ve been raped. But in those days, if she’d told anyone, she would have been thought ‘easy,’ and could have lost her job as well as her reputation.”

“And you helped her by finding a doctor in Boston.”

“My cousin did. But that man wasn’t a doctor. He was a butcher.”

“I told you that part,” said Aunt Nettie. “Why I decided to have my child. By that time I’d begun to think of the baby I was carrying as mine. I tried not to think about how I’d gotten pregnant. I knew I couldn’t keep my child, but I wanted him or her to have a good life. It wasn’t that baby’s fault I’d been raped. And I’d never have to tell my fiancé about what happened. It would all be over by the time he came home.” She paused. “But of course, it didn’t work out that way. My little Julie and my fiancé both died.”

“And after that the four of us vowed to do everything we could to help women who were in similar situations,” said Ruth. “But I wonder why Carrie thought you’d had an abortion?”

“She must have heard something from Betty. And she got the story confused. Or part of it wrong, anyway.”

Maggie thought for a few moments. “Is that why Betty wouldn’t tell Miranda who her father was? Was Betty raped, too?”

Ruth broke the silence. “Yes. Betty was raped, too.”

Aunt Nettie said, “Maggie, you understand this is all confidential. Miranda doesn’t know, and Betty never wanted her to know.”

“I won’t tell her, certainly,” said Maggie. What would she say if her future daughter asked to know more about her birth mother? And father? She’d want to be honest. And positive. Although some stories would be hard to cast in a good light. “But I think Miranda may suspect that. Or that her mother didn’t know who the father of her baby was.”

“Betty certainly knew,” said Ruth. “What an awful thing for Miranda to think about her mother.”

“Miranda’s a grown woman. I think she could cope with hearing pretty much anything about her father, as long as it was true. Not knowing would be much worse than knowing,” Maggie said. “And, after all, Betty didn’t have an abortion or give her up for adoption. She kept her baby, and loved her. That has to mean a lot.”

“You’re probably right,” said Ruth. “But it’s more complicated than that.” Ruth’s hands were clenched. “Miranda’s father was my husband.”

Untitled.
Pen-and-ink lithograph by Charles Dana Gibson (1867–1944) creator of the “Gibson Girl,” an ideal of American womanhood. Depicts well-dressed woman, all in black, greeting a gentleman. Dialogue underneath picture:
Young Widow: “How long should I wear mourning?” Answer: “I’m unable to say. I wasn’t acquainted with your husband.”
Originally published in
Life
Magazine, 1899. Reprinted in
The Gibson Book: A Collection of the Published Works of Charles Dana Gibson in Two Volumes,
1907. 8.5 x 11 inches. Price: $60.

It took
a moment for Maggie to absorb what Ruth had said. “Your husband raped your sister?” Ruth was still wearing her slim gold wedding band. In memoriam? Surely not a comforting reminder of a man she’d respected.

“My Jonas was handsome, charming, persuasive, and insistent on having his way, if persuasion didn’t work. I’d put up with his penchant for women since shortly after we were married. He was a good father and provider, and it was the nineteen-fifties. Much as I hated what he did, he wasn’t letting it interfere with our home life. He kept his pants on when he was in town, and never had a ‘friend’ long enough to threaten our marriage.”

Maggie knew too well what it was like to be married to a man who cheated. Although she hadn’t forgiven. She nodded, almost numbly. “But your sister…!”

“Betty came to me, and told me what had happened. It was all too simple and believable. He’d been drinking. She’d said ‘no.’ He wouldn’t listen.” Ruth’s face hardened. “That was crossing a line I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t be married to a man who’d hurt my little sister.”

“Did you ask for a divorce?”

Ruth looked Maggie straight in the eye. “A funeral’s cheaper than a divorce.”

“Your husband died in a car accident,” Maggie confirmed.

“He did,” said Ruth. “And that’s all I’ll say about it. It was a long time ago.”

“And Betty put an invented name on her daughter’s birth certificate and then came here and raised Miranda with your children,” Maggie said, almost to herself.

“I had Jonas’s life insurance and savings and this big house. She was an unwed mother with an infant and no job. Miranda and Brian were close to the same age. It was the right thing to do.”

“And no one ever knew what had happened?”

“A few, a very few, close friends knew. Nettie, of course. And Mary. They helped me, and supported Betty and me through it all. Without our friends, I don’t know how we would have managed.”

Maggie looked from Ruth to Aunt Nettie and then back. Another story complete with hazy details. There was more to this story, too, she was almost positive. These women and their friends had taken care of themselves through the war. They’d worked in a factory, welding and assembling destroyers for the United States Navy. She didn’t want to know the details about Jonas Weston’s death. But, given the timing, his accident seemed very opportune.

She forced herself to focus on the present rather than the past. “I think you should tell Miranda about her father. Betty can’t now. But Miranda deserves to know the truth.”

“We decided from the beginning never to tell either her or my children. Noah and Stacy have good memories of their father. It doesn’t do any good to rake up the past or talk badly of him. If I told Miranda, I’d have to tell them all. What good would it do? It’s over,” said Ruth.

“Is that what was in your letter from Carrie?” asked Maggie. “About your husband and Betty? Or your husband’s death?”

“It was a bit confused,” Ruth said. “Confused with what she wrote in her letter to Doreen. But there was enough information to raise questions I didn’t—don’t—want raised. Now or ever. That’s why I agreed to pay her.”

“And you’re sure Brian doesn’t know anything about this.”

“I don’t know how he could. He hasn’t even been in Waymouth for several years. Even if Betty were saying things that might be misinterpreted, he wouldn’t have known about them.”

“What was in Doreen’s letter then?” asked Maggie. “If you can tell me. She said yesterday she’d gotten one, but not what was in it.”

“I was afraid it was all related,” said Aunt Nettie. “That’s why we came to talk to you today.”

“She told me last night,” Ruth said. “We decided Maggie ought to know what the real issue was. Doreen would be here, too, if she hadn’t agreed to spend the day with Zelda.” She turned to Maggie. “You see, you’ve been asking questions, good questions, and a lot of them have needed answers. We needed to know why Carrie wanted money. Now we do. The police needed to know who Carrie was blackmailing. They know that, too. Or at least they know about two of us. But you understand that not everything I’m sharing with you is relevant to Carrie’s murder. For example, letting people know about Miranda’s father doesn’t help solve the crime. It would put Betty and me in a very awkward position. It’s a secret that could change how our children see each other, and my sister and me. But it’s not a dangerous secret. Not one the police would be interested in.”

Maggie decided to ignore the questions she had about Ruth’s husband’s death. He’d died in the 1950s in a car accident. Or perhaps it wasn’t completely an accident. But how could anyone prove that more than fifty years later? Although there was no statute of limitations on murder. Accusing anyone of causing his death would only bring scandal and suffering to one or more elderly women who weren’t dangerous to anyone. It could destroy the few years they had left.

“I won’t tell your secret,” she said quietly. “I understand why you haven’t told anyone in all these years. I won’t be the one to break your trust.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” said Ruth. “Nettie, now should we tell her the rest?”

“You said Doreen agreed we should.”

“Doreen’s very upset, and feels she isn’t in a position to tell anyone officially, but she wants someone to know.”

“And she won’t tell Nick? He’s her son!” said Maggie.

“Which is why she can’t talk with him about this,” said Ruth. “She’s afraid of how he might react.”

“Nicky Strait’s always had a temper,” Aunt Nettie said. “Most of the time he has it under control. But in the past year or two he’s been more on edge. Doreen’s tried to talk with him, but he won’t listen. I guess, because of his job, he sees life, and people, in black-and-white.”

“No one is all good or all bad,” Maggie put in.

“Exactly. It’s been hard for him as his daughter has grown up. She wants to do things her own way, like most teenagers do. I think she reminds him of her mother.”

“Her mother was a piece of work,” said Ruth, shaking her head. “All peaches and cream when she got what she wanted, and hard as steel when she didn’t. Far as we could tell, she took to Nicky for his looks—he was a good-looking young man in those days—and because her wealthy parents didn’t approve of a lobsterman’s son. She was rebelling. And then she got herself pregnant. I’ve always wondered if she’d done that intentionally.”

“Will said they were married when they were very young,” said Maggie.

“They were. She was about eighteen, as I remember, and Nicky’d finished his freshman year at college. Her parents wouldn’t give ’em any money, and that Emily wouldn’t get a job. She was supposed to be taking care of Zelda, but she didn’t have any natural-born mothering in her. She ran off when that baby was only six months old and went home to her own mother. Nicky had a scholarship, and he and Doreen agreed he needed to stay in school. He commuted to Portland several days a week and worked as a stern man when he could, and Doreen left off working at the hospital to take care of Zelda when Nicky couldn’t. It was a hard, hard time for everyone, even before Mary got sick and Doreen had to take care of her, too.” Ruth was silent, as though thinking of those days. “Anyway, Nicky’s been coping with all of this for years now. Never found another girl he was interested in. Doreen sometimes wondered whether he was still carrying a torch for Emily.”

“Or more likely, he’d had enough of women. He’s been supporting his mother and daughter since he was a youngster,” put in Aunt Nettie. “Although the three of them have gotten along remarkably well, considering.”

“But recently Doreen’s been worried for Zelda. Nick’s been pretty hard on the girl. Maybe he’s afraid she’s going to run off, like her mother did. Or she’ll get pregnant, same as Emily. Goodness knows what’s in that man’s head. But he’s been trying to keep Zelda on a very short leash, especially when it comes to boys. Even good, responsible boys her age.”

“She had a black eye when I saw her in the choir on Christmas Eve,” said Maggie.

“He doesn’t usually hit her. But Doreen told me he’s done it more often recently.” Ruth shook her head. “Nasty business, that. I’ll admit I laid a smart hand to the backsides of my children a time or three when they were young. But Zelda’s not a child, and hitting anyone in the face, especially a woman, is not a tap on the rear end.”

Doreen had said she had to help Zelda get away from this place. Maybe what she’d meant was get her away from her father. It was an awful thought: Nick hitting his daughter. And who could the girl go to? Her father was the law. “I never imagined it was Nick who’d hit her. I assumed her boyfriend had done it.”

“Not that sweet Jon Snow,” said Ruth. “He’s not the brightest bulb on the tree, but he’s seriously religious, and Doreen says he’s a good influence on Zelda. He keeps her calmed down when things get rough at home. He’s not afraid to stand up to her father, either, which is why Nick can’t stand him.”

“So Doreen wouldn’t tell Nick about the letter she got, because she was afraid of his reaction to it? Was she afraid he’d hurt her?”

“I don’t think she’s afraid of him for herself. Not physically. But she didn’t want him seeing what was in the letter. It would have upset and embarrassed him. And with the mood he’s been in lately, she didn’t know what he’d do. It was safer not to tell him. She didn’t think he needed to know. Until Carrie was killed, of course.”

“She didn’t tell me what was in the letter; only that she’d gotten one. Now she wants me to do something about it?”

“You’re from away. It doesn’t matter what Nick thinks of you. And you’re free to have contacts she doesn’t have,” said Ruth. “You don’t just talk to Nick.”

“As of last night, Nick doesn’t want me to talk with anyone,” said Maggie. “He’d be furious if he knew I was here talking with you this morning.” Will wouldn’t be happy either.

“But you could talk to Owen Trask. Someone other than Nick, but someone involved with the investigation,” Aunt Nettie pointed out.

“I guess I could,” Maggie admitted. “Even if Nick and Will would be furious.” She hesitated. This was to be the week she and Will tested their relationship. Right now that test didn’t seem to be going very well. “I could call Owen if I felt I had information he needed to know.”

“That’s what Doreen and I were up late last night talking about,” said Ruth. “She doesn’t know what can of worms would be opened if you told Owen. But she feels law enforcement needs to know about her letter. All about her letter. She hasn’t slept for days worrying about it.”

“She told me she didn’t know who’d taken the letter.”

“That’s what she told me. But I think in the back of her mind she’s wondering if Zelda took it. I told her she knew that girl through and through. She couldn’t be a murderer. It isn’t in her.”

Zelda seemed to be a sweet, intelligent young woman who had plans for her future. Plans that didn’t involve her father, or even Maine. If she’d gotten involved with a murder, intentionally or unintentionally, that would be the end of any of her hopes and dreams. It sounded implausible.

“And if Owen had more information, maybe he and Nick would be less likely to suspect my Brian of killing Carrie,” Ruth went on. “I told Doreen she had to tell what she knew. It affects us all, but it would be most important to her. Do you agree, Nettie? Is it time to tell someone? We never thought the past would be so important all these years later.”

“The world’s changed since then. I can’t think why we shouldn’t talk about it. At this point in our lives, what does it matter what anyone thinks anyway? We did what we thought was right, and we should stop hiding. If Doreen is willing to talk, even if it’s through Maggie telling Owen, then we have to back her up.” Aunt Nettie looked resolute.

“We’re agreed, then,” said Ruth.

Maggie looked from one of the women to the other. Neither was smiling. Both were tense, and weary. Sharing a secret that had been kept for many years was a serious decision.

“I’ve already told you I had an unplanned pregnancy,” Aunt Nettie said.

So that period of time was relevant to this latest secret.

“Of course, abortions weren’t legal then, but having a baby when you weren’t married was totally unacceptable. If anyone had known my situation, I wouldn’t have been able to hold my head up in Waymouth. Nor would my fiancé, despite his loving me, have understood. I would have had to give up everything in my life. I’ve told you Ruth went with me to a place in Boston we’d heard about.”

“A dreadful place,” Ruth put in.

“Not only did it change my mind about what I wanted to do, but afterward I kept thinking of all the other women we saw there. I wondered if they’d survived.” Aunt Nettie stopped for a moment. “In those days, under those circumstances, some women died as a result of having abortions. And having seen one of those places, I could understand how that might happen. The place was dirty, to begin with. And although the man who was supposed to do the abortion said he was a doctor, I wasn’t sure. Anyone could say that. Women who went to those places were so desperate that they’d believe almost anything they were told. In any case, I went ahead and had my Julie. But years later, when Betty found herself in a similar situation, Ruth and Mary and I decided to do something about the problem, even though Betty decided to have her baby. She didn’t really have a choice.”

“It wasn’t fair that women had to risk their lives as well as their reputations because of pregnancy,” said Ruth. “Betty and I were pregnant at the same time, although she stayed away from Waymouth. We told people she’d had a short marriage and was divorced. No one questioned her. That happened.”