Free The Legacy by Howard Fast

who had fallen in love with Thomas Lavette’s good looks and elegant manners, and thereby had fallen into a continuing nightmare. It was Jean who had taken her under her wing and had given her the courage to divorce Tom, after which Jean and Eloise became very close. But tonight Jean wanted to be alone, and she sent Eloise and her family away with the others. Only Barbara refused to leave.
    â€œHonestly,” Jean said to her, “I do want to be alone. I have a great deal to think about.”
    â€œAnd just as honestly,” Barbara replied, “I don’t want you to be alone. So Sam and I will stay here tonight, and tomorrow you can be as independent as you please.”
    Mrs. Bendler, who came into the Lavette house each day to clean and prepare dinner, left by eleven-thirty. She had made coffee, and Barbara took it to the library, where Jean sat curled on the couch, facing the fireplace. The library had undergone many transmutations since Dan built the house in 1912, but when Dan and Jean decided to remarry, Jean restored the room as closely as she could to its original appearance, and thus it was very much as Barbara remembered it from her childhood. The overstuffed pieces had an old and comfortable look, and above the mantel there was a primitive oil painting of the Oregon Queen, Dan’s first cargo ship.
    Barbara and Jean sat together on the sofa, Jean watching her daughter thoughtfully. “Things go on,” Jean said at last. “You drink coffee and it tastes good. You know, I envy the old ladies.”
    Barbara suppressed a smile. Jean could never connect herself with old ladies, regardless of a chronological age.
    â€œYou mean Maria Cassala and Sarah Levy?”
    â€œYes.”
    Barbara recalled the scene at the cemetery. Maria Cassala, who was eighty-one, had flung herself on the earth-filled grave, weeping hysterically. Sarah Levy had collapsed by the grave, moaning with grief.
    â€œYou envy them,” Barbara said, and added silently, “I suppose I do too.”
    â€œYou know why?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œI didn’t weep,” Jean said. “I stood there with my heart as cold as ice, but I couldn’t weep. What’s wrong with us?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œI never talked to you about your father, Bobby. Not really. I suppose there was a reason for that. The good folk of this city discussed our antics over forty years, and I guess that was enough. Neither of us was disposed to add to it. Once, long ago, in a pet of anger, your father said I didn’t know the meaning of love. He was wrong. I knew, and I guess I loved him as much as a woman can love a man. Maybe. We tore each other to shreds and then we put it back together, and there aren’t many who do that. For the past ten years, we’ve been inseparable, and oh, God, I was so happy. I think Danny was too. He was the only man in my life who meant one damn thing, and now he’s dead, and I don’t cry. I’m just cold and numb and without tears, and I’ll be this way all the rest of my life, for whatever it’s worth.”
    â€œNo.” Barbara shook her head. “Time heals it, mostly.”
    â€œI’m too old for time to do any healing. I don’t know why I’m drinking coffee. Do you want a drink?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œScotch and water and ice?”
    â€œI’ll make them,” Barbara said, rising.
    â€œAll right. I’m tired. Make mine a double. Perhaps I’ll sleep.”
    â€œDidn’t Dr. Kellman give you something?”
    â€œSleeping pills?” Jean snorted. “Not your precious Kellman. Afraid I’d do myself in or something. Told me to take hot milk. I’ll tell you, if I thought it would lead me to Danny, I wouldn’t hesitate. Only I don’t.”
    Barbara handed Jean the drink. “Here’s to daddy. One last toast.”
    â€œYou had this kind of grief twice,