Miller's Secret Page 10

  She held her little baby boy in her arms. He was beautiful, perfect, even with his face squished from childbirth. A rush of love, of protectiveness, washed over her. She must take care of him, keep him safe from harm.

  “What will you name him?” asked Mrs. Able.

  “Edward, after his father. But I’ll call him Teddy.” She imagined a freight train hurled toward them. They were stuck to the tracks. She would cover his body with her own to save him from a train or anything else that might come their way. There would be a way to take care of him. She would figure out something. What other choice was there?

  The midwife told her to put his mouth on her breast. “He’ll know what to do,” she said, crossing her arms over her own ample bosom.

  The midwife was right. He opened his rosebud mouth and sucked. Nothing had seemed more right than this moment. And yet, this glorious feeling of love was tempered with terror.

  She had just switched the baby to the other breast when the midwife returned. “There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

  “A gentleman?”

  “A Mr. Dreeser. He won’t go away before speaking to you. He says it must be now.”

  Mr. Dreeser? Whatever could he want? Her mind frantically searched for an answer, but nothing came. “I’m not decent.”

  Mrs. Able held out her arms. “Give the baby to me. Pull up your blouse. That’s right.”

  A few minutes later, Mr. Dreeser walked into the room. Phil stared at him, too frightened and surprised to speak.

  He sat in the hardback chair next to the bed. In his hand, he held his hat and a paper bag decorated with grease spots that smelled of salami and fresh bread. Despite her fear, her stomach growled. “I’ve come with a sandwich and a proposal,” he said.

  “A proposal?”

  “One which I hope you’ll accept.”

  She stayed quiet, feeling as if she were out of her body, watching the scene from the ceiling.

  “Your beauty’s gotten under my skin. When I see something beautiful that I want, I take it. And I want you.”

  “Me?” She couldn’t follow what he meant. Wanted her? How?

  “I’ll put you up in an apartment. You and the baby can live there. You’ll want for nothing, including food and clothes. I’ll come and go as I please. Our visits will be pleasurable.”

  Pleasurable? Did he mean? She started to perspire.

  “There will be no other men.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her damp and stringy hair off her forehead. “You’re lovely, even after just giving birth. With some care and proper nutrition, I’ll transform you, make you stunning. You should shine.”

  Her gaze moved from his face to his hand where his wedding ring shone under the light.

  “But you must be a secret. Do you understand?”

  Teddy cried from the other room. Her stomach growled once again. “Yes, I understand.”

  “And you can agree to my terms?”

  She remembered the empty place under her mattress. “Yes.”

  “Excellent. I’ll pay to have you moved to a hotel tomorrow. You can finish your recovery there. I’ll come by and see you once you’re settled.”

  “What about my job?”

  His brow furrowed. “Job? This will be your job now. You’ll never have to see a sewing machine for the rest of your life.”

  What if I want to? “May I have that sandwich?” She was desperate for something to eat.

  He smiled. “You certainly may.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Miller

  HE HAD FOUND THE APARTMENT for Phil through Timmy, who had arranged the lease for him so there was no way to trace the diversion of funds. It was important that he’d taken every precaution for discretion.

  Three years ago she’d come to the factory to apply for work as a seamstress. Thin and pale, with the slightest hint of a pink rose petal blush to her cheeks and a fragility mixed with intelligence that made him feel drunk in her presence. He had to have her. He watched her from the window of his office, looking down on the factory floor, hiding behind the curtain so no one would see him. It took several months before he figured out she was pregnant. Pregnant, unwed, and only seventeen years old. Had he used that to his advantage? Yes, he had. That’s what men with power did. He wasn’t about to apologize for it. At first she’d been only a physical obsession, but now, three years later, he loved her. All he wanted was to be with her. To possess her. To have her on his arm while he ruled over Bennett Industries.

  PART IV

  June 1946

  CHAPTER ONE

  Caroline

  THE SUNDAY BEFORE THEY LEFT for the beach house, Caroline and the children attended church with her parents. As they walked down the steps of the cathedral after the service, her father took her arm. “Darling, will you make sure Miller comes for dinner tonight?”

  “You know I don’t have much control over him.” She spoke lightly, disguising how it hurt. A habit now. Seventeen years of marriage did that.

  Audrey, skipping, led the way to the street where the car was parked. Joseph, hat in hand, stood waiting. The boys, arms linked with their grandmother, walked ahead of them.

  “I ask little from him, but I want him there tonight. It’s important.”

  She glanced up at him, wondering why tonight was different than any other Sunday evening. His profile gave away nothing. “I’ll do my best, Father.” They were upon the car now. The children had already slipped inside, while Mother exchanged pleasantries with Joseph about the fortunate weather.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. In you go.” He kissed the top of her head as he guided her into the back of the car.

  After church, she found Miller in their bedroom. He stood at the mirror, tying his tie.

  “You need to come for dinner tonight. Father asked specifically that we all be there.”

  “I can’t.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. “I have to go into the factory.”

  She caught a whiff of his cologne. He’d started wearing a different brand in the last few months that smelled like musk mixed with cinnamon. “You work for my father. If he wants you at dinner, it takes precedence over whatever’s happening at the factory.”

  He turned to look at her, the skin between his eyebrows furrowed into the shape of a camel’s hump. “Why do we have a family dinner every Sunday night?”

  “It’s what we do,” she said. “The rest of us, anyway. You haven’t joined us for years.” In truth, she hadn’t minded, enjoying the evenings much more without Miller. There was an underlying tension between her parents and her husband that made her feel apologetic and anxious. Lately, Seb and Miller seemed to have developed the same unspoken hostility. Fifteen was a particularly hard age for a boy, and Miller wasn’t the type of father her father was. Distant, at best, might describe him. Neglectful might describe him better. Work over family. Always.

  “I don’t understand,” said Miller. “It’s not like you all don’t spend an inordinate amount of time together already.”

  His tone, clipped and detached, made her hands itch. That speech coach years ago made him sound like an actor in a movie. It was unnatural. She flexed her fingers hanging by her sides. “My father asks for very little of us, considering what he’s done for you.”

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Fair enough. I’ll step out now, but I’ll be back by dinner.”

  “Thank you.”

  He left the room without another word. She sat at her vanity and looked in the mirror as she took the pins from her hat. Staring at her reflection, she wondered if the recent years had changed her. Would Julius think she’d aged since his time overseas? She opened a drawer and took out his last letter, opening it to the familiar words.

  March 23, 1946

  Dearest Caroline,

  I leave at the end of the May for the long trip home. I’ve bought a first-class ticket on an ocean liner, an indulgent gift to myself after this long war. I’ll be home by the time you all arrive at the beach
house for the summer. I know it probably seemed insensible to you that I stayed after the war was over, but the people of Europe were left with a broken world, Caroline. Cities in ruins with no facilities in which to treat women and children, neglected for too long. It was my duty to God to stay and help. I know you understand giving to those less fortunate, so I needn’t explain it to you, I suppose. I knew you would have done the same. In truth, I haven’t much to return to anyway. No family of my own, other than Father and Essie and the twins, but not a wife or children of my own. The people here needed me more than anyone at home.

  I can’t say the war hasn’t changed me, Caroline, but I’ll return unharmed, on the outside, at least. Counting the moments until I see you all.

  Love,

  Julius.

  She folded it, careful not to tear the thin paper, and set it back on top of the pile. There were at least a hundred letters, although she hadn’t counted them. Saving his letters was probably foolish, but it had given her comfort to see his neat handwriting on the envelopes every time she opened the drawer, despite the nondescript nature of their content. Like Henry Sayer had said when he had come to visit her years ago, it was unlikely Julius would share any horrid details. He had never wanted anything harmful to ever touch her.

  When she received the letter about his return home, she’d written back a letter she would never send. If he kept painful and frightening details of his war experience from her, she should return the favor. Writing it, however, had helped.

  Dear Julius,

  I’m afraid you’ll find me changed as well. I look in the mirror some days and I see an old woman staring back at me. It feels as if all the joy has been sucked from my life. I love my work and the children, but I’m lonely. My marriage is solitary. I live with a person I hardly know. He leaves in the morning before I wake and comes home after I’m asleep. Some nights he doesn’t come home at all. He claims he sleeps at the office, but I know it’s a lie. We barely touch. I think he has someone else on the side. I wonder if he ever loved me at all or if he married me for my money? His relationship with the children is almost nonexistent. If it weren’t for my father, I don’t know where we’d be. They look up to Father, like we always did. Children and dogs always know good people. Sadly, despite everything, I can still remember what it was like to be in love with Miller. The remnants are there in my heart, like shrapnel. I know there’s nothing I can do. Divorce isn’t an option. Plus, who would want me now that I’m old?

  I know, too, that I never stopped loving you. All these years, our friendship continued to grow deeper, perhaps because we both knew it was safe, given that I was a married woman. It’s always been you. I know you’ve never felt the same, so it’s best I married Miller. We have the beautiful children because of it.

  She had stopped at that point, her self-pitying tears leaking onto the paper and blurring the ink. Now, she folded it carefully and put it at the back of the drawer. Miller wouldn’t look in here anyway. He didn’t care enough.

  That evening, the temperatures were unchanged from that afternoon, warm and without a breeze. Mother and Caroline, discussing it over the phone, had decided it would be particularly festive to dine outside in the garden. The staff had set up a long table, adorning it with lanterns, candles, and fresh roses.

  Now, sitting around the table in the flickering light, the children’s eyes shone like the stars twinkling above them. Scents of roses and red wine permeated the air. They’d finished the first course, a lovely cucumber and tomato salad, when her father picked up his wineglass. He’d opened a particularly good vintage, although Caroline couldn’t remember what it was, only that he’d mentioned it, making her wonder again what made tonight so special.

  “I have an announcement,” said Father.

  Caroline glanced at her mother. She gazed at her husband with an expression of adoration mixed with excitement. What could it be? Were they taking a trip? Or had they purchased a new home somewhere? Despite their immense wealth, other than the two homes, the Bennetts were not extravagant people. Over the years, as their wealth continued to rise, they gave more and more money to their philanthropic causes. They traveled some, but did not collect objects like cars and fur coats and thousands of hats like some of her parents’ friends.

  They were both approaching sixty. She was thirty-seven. Thirty-seven! How had the years flown by so quickly? It was that way when one had children. They kept her so occupied and busy that the days and months slipped through her hands, even as she tried desperately to make time stand still. This was one of the lessons of motherhood. One must make them into wonderful adults only to let them go. How was this fair? To make us love them, only to have them leave? When the children left, she would have no one.

  Father set down his glass and looked at each of them around the table. Caroline sat between her two sons, with Audrey and Miller on the opposite side of the table. She tried to catch Miller’s eye, but his gaze was fixed on her father.

  “As I look at each of you,” said Father, “I know that no matter my accomplishments in the outside world, my greatest joys are sitting right here in front of me. As you know, I inherited great responsibility from my own father. Not only to carry on his wealth and the companies he worked hard to build, but also to the good people who worked for him. I know he would be proud to see what we’ve done, sustaining through the Depression and adjusting to the new world during this war.” He chuckled. “I can’t imagine what he would’ve thought of his munitions factories full of women workers.”

  “Your mother would’ve loved it,” said Mother. “She was a suffragette.”

  Audrey’s eyes shone. “I saw her name in a book at the library the other day.”

  “Did you?” asked Father, smiling.

  Audrey smiled as her eyes skirted to Caroline. “I’m ashamed to say I bragged to the other girls about it.”

  “Audrey. You know how I feel about boasting,” said Caroline.

  “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “Never mind that,” said Father. “I’m sure God and your mother can forgive you just this once.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Enough stalling.” He picked up his wineglass and swirled and sniffed. “I’m retiring.”

  “Retiring?” asked Caroline. “You mean from work?”

  “Yes, from work. I’ve decided it’s time to give the reins to the younger generation. I’m a bit of a dinosaur these days. And I want to spend more time with all of you. Perhaps we can take some trips together, see more of the country.”

  Miller. What did this mean to him? Would he be given the president position? She stole a look at him. Was he wondering the same? His face was impassive, as it often was. She couldn’t imagine his thoughts.

  Father put his glass up. “Let’s toast to new beginnings.”

  They all lifted their glasses—milk and wine—and cheered. After they set their glasses down, Margaret, on cue, sent the young man in to serve their dinners. He was new, and with all the excitement, Caroline couldn’t remember his name. As he set her plate in front of her, she noticed a scar on his right hand, red and angry looking. Mostly likely from the war. Did it spread farther up his arm? Regardless, it hadn’t marred his abilities, as he appeared strong and without tremors. “Thank you,” she said. Was it Martin? Marvin? She made a mental note to ask Mother after dinner.

  After they all had their dishes, Miller tapped his glass. “May I offer a toast, Mr. Bennett?”

  “Yes, Miller, please,” said Father.

  Miller raised his glass. “Congratulations on a lengthy and successful career. You have surely carried on your father’s legacy with grace and intelligence. Thank you for the opportunities you’ve given me. I hope you know how grateful I am. And here’s to the younger generation. May we do you justice.”

  They all toasted again. Miller had come so far after starting with so little. It was true that Father had given him the opportunity by providing a position in his company, but Miller had worked hard all t
hese years. Currently, Miller ran the textile arm of the company, but he was capable of running the entire conglomerate. She hoped with all her heart that Father planned to give him the presidency. Stewart had been with her father since he was a young man, but even so, Miller was the obvious choice. Miller was family. Stewart was simply an employee, albeit a competent and loyal one. Maybe Father would give Miller part ownership finally? She took a hearty sip of wine. Would it be better or worse if Miller became the president? It probably didn’t matter. Either way, she and the children wouldn’t see him. She took another sip of wine, ambivalent and tired.

  **

  She declined dessert, even though it was strawberry shortcake that made her mouth water. She placed her hand on her flat stomach and decided to have an after-dinner brandy with her parents when the children had finished. It didn’t take long for them to inhale their cake and ask to be excused, giving the adults time to retire to the sitting room to enjoy after-dinner drinks as they did on Sunday nights. Father surprised her, however, by asking if he might speak with her in the study. Alone.

  Standing, she looked over at Miller. He appeared nonplussed by this deviation from routine, offering his arm to Mother. “Mrs. Bennett, may I get you a brandy?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  Miller and Mother walked out of the dining room together, chatting about flowers. Caroline followed Father to his study. The room had changed little over the years, other than new drapes and wallpaper and replacement of furniture that looked remarkably the same as the furniture from her childhood. She sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, which stood dark tonight. Instead, the room was dimly lit by the two lamps on the small tables next to the chairs, giving everything a comforting orange glow. Father poured her a brandy. “What is it? Is something wrong?”