- Chapter 3 -
Neil Leegan paced from one side to the other side of the formal sitting room of the Leegan Mansion in Chicago. He was waiting for Eliza, who was currently living with the Great Aunt Elroy in the Andley Mansion. He had sent for her, because there was something that was gnawing at him for days.
"Master Neil, Miss Eliza is here…" the butler announced.
"Neil? Where are you?" she screeched from behind him.
"Here, Eliza…good thing you came" Neil greeted, kissing his sister's hand. As always, Eliza was very well dressed, this time wearing an orange sherbet colored dress. She took her hat and gloves off and immediately made herself comfortable on the sofa.
She had noticed as of late that her brother was taking a keen interest in Candy and she didn't know whether to laugh at her brother's pathetic predicament or to gleefully be happy at the new tormenting opportunity she was going to have with Candy. She really detested Candy, who seemed to hopelessly attract all the men that came into contact with her. If her brother had sent for her, she was positive Candy had something to do with it.
"I hope you haven't called me to start talking foolishness about the Lady of the Stables who is driving you crazy…Neil, sometimes I don't know what has gotten into you or how desperate you have become to snare a woman…come to think of it, you always liked low class, cheap women…" she said snidely, as to not show her interest in the subject.
Neil kept the answer to himself because what he was going to tell Eliza was only going to confirm her pronouncement. "No, nothing of the sort, dearest sister…but everything to do with that third rate actor who's driving you all mad." His starched shirt collar suddenly felt tight.
"Pooh, ever since he decided to stay with that flat browed, crippled, sixth rate actress, I don't even know what it is that I ever saw in Terry…imagine, he went from the Lady of the Stables to a cheap Theatre Tart!" she snapped, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She served tea for them from the service Neil had asked for, and offered her brother a teacup.
"Well, that Miss Cripple, as you call her, couldn…" Neil started, accepting the teacup from her.
"Crippled and dim-witted, on top of everything! She lost her leg to save Terry's life…can you fathom that, a shrill harpy like her "saving" Terry…ladies don't go around "saving" anybody…she got what she deserved for trying to play parts that don't suit her…" Eliza interrupted, taking a sip of her tea.
"Well, as I was saying, Miss Cripple couldn't hold on to your precious actor because I am sure I just saw him here in Chicago…" Neil was getting exasperated with his sister, whom as usual, never let him finish a sentence.
Eliza immediately stood up and shook Neil by the shoulders, almost tipping the teacups in the process "WHERE!" she demanded.
"I thought you weren't interested anymore…" he smirked, quite pleased with his sister's reaction.
"Don't be an ass…Terry came to see ME that is why he's in Chicago."
Neil laughed sarcastically. "Come now, sister, he never had or will have eyes for you…I am positive he came looking for her…for Candy…he was drunker that an Irishman on St. Patrick's Day…he was a total mess, with a ratty beard, his dirty hair in a ponytail, filthier than filthy and he stunk to high heaven..." he chortled, taking great pleasure in describing the appalling state he had seen in the aristocrat in.
"Neil, you must have been the one smashed out of your mind, Terry would never go around like that…" Eliza said disdainfully. As far as she could recall, Terry was always well dressed…only her cousin Archie, the Beau Brummell1 in the family, could out dress Grandchester.
"By Golly, Miss Molly! I can sure tell how you really 'know' Grandchester! Ever since boarding school he was going around carousing in all the pubs close to St. Paul's…he's a first class lush…why do you think he took such a liking to Candy, he loves the same kind of people. I am pretty sure it was him…that suave, velvety voice with English upper class tones, reciting Shakespeare ad nauseum three sheets to the wind, slamming back whisky after whisky at John Barleycorn's2 like he has a peg leg, crying out in angst, calling her name.." Neil remembered how insanely jealous he got when he heard Terry call Candy's name over and over.
"JOHN BARLEYCORN!Neil, what in heavens were you doing in one of those places?" she asked, shocked. The bar was a well known meeting place in Chicago for the Irish gangs. Whoever went there took their life into their hands.
"I don't know what is more shocking, that you know that I have been there, or that you admit to knowing of such a place…the very name, even!"
"Don't play the dullard with me, Neil…what I need to know is that where is he?" In her mind, Eliza saw herself ministering tenderly to Terry.
"Who knows, Eliza…when I worked up the nerve to get a better look at him, he had been calling out to the Lady of the Stables for a while, and some thugs told him to shut up, to which he responded by calling out to her louder, which really snapped those hooligans into action and they all lunged at him and started to pummel him and…" Neil left out the part where the Irish thugs had derisively called him a Limey3 Bastard, since they recognized his accent, and upper class at that. It didn't take much to provoke an Irish man to strike out against a Briton, especially one from the nobility.
"Neil! Didn't you help him!" Eliza couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"No, I went out to find some help…" he lied.
"You are a first class yellow tail…but I already knew that…" she said, scathingly. She knew her brother was a coward. "Now, what he have to do is to find Terry…and I am the one to do it" she said, not wanting to waste another minute.
"Find Terry?" Neil was confused. He wanted to tell Eliza the story so that they could plan how to use this information to taunt Candy, not to go looking for the aristocrat that he so loathed.
"But of course, you fool…if Miss Cripple couldn't keep her hold on him, I WILL. Right this very moment, I am going to go to all the local hospitals!" she swore, tearing out of the Leegan mansion as if on a suicide mission.
For a long time, Suzanne Marlowe had been looking out of the window of the living room in the apartment she shared with her mother. They were located on the first floor and it faced the main street. Everyday, since Terry had gone, she spent hours there, waiting hopefully for the masculine figure she so yearned for. But with the inexorable passage of time and days, she was realizing that her wait was in vain. His sudden departure, leaving everything behind, the lack of communication, the weeks gone by…everything indicated to her that Terry had given up…except one thing…Candy.
"I rue the day that I found you existed…" she seethed, bitterly. "Terry was capable of leaving everything for you." Her blood boiled at the thought of them together that very minute. It was the same burning feeling she had the night of the Romeo and Juliet opening, of Terry's first starring role that Candy had traveled from Chicago to witness. That had inflamed Suzanne; she could not bear the thought of them together at last and she was willing to ruin their happiness with her death…and she had been so close to achieving that, if it weren't for her…that nosey woman. To her astonishment, Candy had left Terry so easily, something that Suzanne could never comprehend why: why did she do it? Didn't Candy love him as much as she did? How could she do it? What sort of a woman let the man she love go just like that? But her triumph was so sweet afterwards. Terry did not stop Candy from leaving, and she, Suzanne Marlowe, had won! She knew it the moment Terry came back into the room after Candy had left her side. That is how she knew she could tell Terry to go for Candy, as to appear as magnanimous as Candy had been. But she knew what his answer would be, because he had just let her go! Alas, her glorious moment was short lived. Terry was there, true, but only his physical presence. Everything else had gone with Candy on that train back to Chicago. No matter how sweet, endearing, thankful she tried to be with him, Suzanne could only feel how the chasm between her and Terry, a chasm that had existed before the accident, deepened, driving them further and further apart. And one day, not even his physical presence was there…he was completely gone.
A few days after Terry's departure, Robert Hathaway had arrived to visit her. She wasn't too keen on meeting him, since she had not seen him since the accident. At the same time, she hoped he may have news about Terry, so she decided to receive him.
"You are looking well, Suzanne…" he greeted her very cordially.
"Thank you, Mr. Hathaway." she replied, reticent.
"I've come to see you because we have received payment from the Theatre's insurance provider…from our policy…I did not want to mention about it earlier because I had to wait to see if they considered the light falling from the track an accident or an equipment set up error. Thankfully, it was proven that it was an accident…I know it can never replace your leg, but it is only fair that you receive something." Robert gave Suzanne a check for $5,000.004
Suzanne looked it over, surprised. "I don't know what to say…" she murmured. This was the last thing she was expecting.
"As I said, it probably will never be enough to compensate you for your loss, but it will help you along. That being said, now that you are getting better, have you thought about what you are going to do going forward? Have you considered outfitting yourself with a prosthetic? There is no reason why you cannot return to the theatre with us." Robert offered.
Suzanne remained silent. To have prosthesis meant that her argument in keeping Terry by her side lost strength. But she adored being an actress and the stage was calling to her.
Robert decided not to pressure her. He felt that the young woman was waiting for information and he said, "I have not heard anything from Terrence, Suzanne…I am sorry."
She did not reply. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Please consider what I have said…I would be very pleased if you work with us again…" he emphasized.
Since that day, Suzanne didn't know what to do.
There was a game she had been playing with the press, appearing as the sweet, demure girlfriend who awaited her errant beau. She hoped that with the many write-ups the press was giving, Terry perhaps would read them and would feel so guilty about leaving her that way that he would come back. It wouldn't be the first time she would succeed in making him do so. He has to come back, he knows I cannot walk and it is his fault! But what if Terry did not come back? She would look foolish in the public eye. And if that was the case, Terry would surely pay, and pay he would! she fumed.
Something deep inside her made her take back that last thought. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. "What would I stand to gain, if I keep forcing Terry?" she murmured, realizing that she was in a situation that she could no longer control.
"Welcome to our humble home…" Candy sang to Terry, proudly. Terry looked over the small apartment. It was as big as his place in the Village in New York. It was very cozy and warm, despite its simplicity. Candy closed the door. "Why don't you lay down a bit, I'll make some tea." she offered, showing him the bottom bunk bed.
Terry was going to say that he did not feel tired, but he considered his state and he decided not to second guess Candy, since she obviously had more experience than he did in these things. "As you wish, Freckles…" he said. He delighted in watching her move about, making the tea…she smiled and hummed cheerfully and stole glances at him from the corner of her eyes every so often when she thought he wasn't looking. "How could I deny what she means to me?" he thought. He sighed wistfully and smiled, reclining comfortably on the bed.
"Terry, the tea's ready…Terry?"
Candy walked over and she saw that he had fallen asleep. He was snoring lightly. She caressed his forehead and she heard as he sighed, satisfied. Terry…so strong and so vulnerable at the same time. It pained her to remember how she had seen him a few days ago, so beaten. But she had faith that from thereon, Terry was going to rise up again, to fulfill his potential. She was sure of that. She covered him with a quilt and took his shoes off, and then went on with her household chores.
A tantalizing aroma of tomatoes, garlic, onions, capers, olives and chicken wafted into Terrence's senses, who woke up with a bit of a start. He felt a small warmth next to him. He looked for the source and found the tiny body of Poupee, curled up against him, keeping him company. "Hello, Poupee" he said, slightly stroking the pet's fur as to not awaken the creature. He heard the voices of Candy and Albert in the kitchenette area.
"The pasta is ready, Albert…" notified Candy.
"Let me test it…ummmm…Candy….it overcooked."
"Are you serious? How do you know?" she sounded disappointed.
"See here…see how it is mushy? When it is al dente, it does not lose its shape or get mushy…well, at least that is what they taught me in Naples." Albert replied.
"What are we going to do…we are all out of pasta in the pantry…" Candy groaned.
"Don't worry…we will put it into the sauce instead of putting the chicken cacciatore on top of it." Albert tried to cheer her.
"Albert, I am never going to be a good housewife…Terry will think I'm useless in the kitchen…" Her lips pouted, aghast with herself.
"Candy, you have what is needed to be the best of wives…don't worry about the kitchen part…you will see!" Albert said, heartily.
"Echo…" Terry said, from behind them.
"Oh!" Candy exclaimed, blushing. She thought Terry was still asleep. He must have heard the last part, how embarrassing! she thought
Terry smiled so sweetly at her that she was totally disarmed and her embarrassment dissipated. He then said to Albert, "I do not know what is in those pots, but it certainly does smell good! Besides, your legend in the kitchen precedes you, friend…"
"Thank you…the truth is that it is a good thing I know my way around a kitchen, because if I didn't I think we would be barely surviving on cans of Heinz Baked Beans! Candy, why don't you set the table?" Albert suggested.
"Yes…" she said, still flustered in Terry's presence.
"May I help you with something?" Terry offered.
"Well, if you want, if you could slice up that batard of bread…" Albert said "Do you like Italian cuisine?"
"I've had it more in New York than when I was in England…yes, I do like it…what did you make?" Terry replied.
"Chicken Cacciatore..."
"Well, if it tastes as good as it smells, you've got yourself a convert." Terry said, going about completing his assigned chore.
"Well, we are ready…can we serve, Candy?" Albert smiled warmly at his friend.
"Yes, Albert…" she replied.
Albert served three portions and they all sat down to enjoy the meal. During dinner, Candy told Albert that Terry still had to convalesce a couple of more weeks, since they needed to be absolutely sure that his wound healed up entirely, as well as to make sure he didn't get tetanus. "Until then, he cannot leave Chicago…" she said.
"Will you go back to New York, Terrence?" Albert inquired.
"I don't know yet…everything depends on what happens here in Chicago." he said, in such a way that neither Albert nor Candy dared to ask him any more questions on the subject.
"Well, then, consider yourself our special guest until you decide where do you want to go next." Albert offered, understanding the young man's mood.
"Thank you." Terry replied dryly. Terry was already behind one of his walls and no one was allowed back in there, not even Candy this time. She knew it was best to leave him alone when he was like that. Dinner was finished.
"By the way Terry, let me check your wound…I think you need a new dressing…" she offered. She wanted to move the discussion away from what they were talking about, since it was attracting a storm cloud.
Without waiting for an answer, Candy started unbuttoning Terry's shirt and helped him to remove his undershirt. Terry, whose heart was now racing at the sudden contact, could hardly contain his quivering…he was so excited with the topic change, it lifted his spirits right away, even if his face didn't show it. Candy, however, was so professionally focused on her task that she didn't even notice the effect her nearness was having on Terry. Albert, who was observing them, smiled inwardly.
Candy took off the old dressing and started to clean Terry's wound. She dried it and dressed it with new bandages. While she was doing this, she was explaining to him what she was doing and the importance of keeping the area clean and dry. In addition, she had lightly rubbed some olive oil on the healing wound. "What are you doing, Candy, I am going to smell like a salad…" he asked, jokingly.
"An Italian patient we had once at the Happy Clinic told me that Olive Oil has something that helps with wound healing…what is the matter, don't you trust me? Why would I make you smell like a salad on purpose?" she retorted good naturedly.
"I know that, Freckles…remember how you took care of my leg wound back in London? At this rate, I am collecting scars for display…" he said, acerbically.
"Looks like all the men in my life are collecting scars…Did I tell you Albert had an accident recently…well, more like an encounter than an accident…with a lion?" she said.
"Candy is a wonderful nurse, is she not?" Albert chimed in, "Look, here are my scars that the lion's claws made". Albert took his pullover and his undershirt off. Albert, who also was in good shape showed Terry his scars. They were still recent, the new skin a bright pink.
"By Jove, Albert….you are a Greek Hero à la Achilles" Terry admired, "with your talent we could open up a circus…you could be the lion tamer, Candy could be up on the trapeze or the monkey, and I…"
"Who are you calling a monkey!" Candy interrupted, annoyed.
"…And I could be the clown…" Terry concluded, his satire taking on a dark turn.
Candy saw the cloud in Terry's eyes. "Oh…Terry…I always thought the clowns are the saddest ones in the circus." she murmured.
"They are, Candy…they are the most tragic characters in the circus. Just imagine the feeling Enrico Caruso puts in when he sings, Ah! Rie, Payaso." Terry sang the bit of the aria very well.
Albert noticed the gathering storm in the young man's tone.
Candy smiled broadly and said to him. "No, Terry…I think you should be the ringmaster…you are so good at cracking the whip and you look so dapper with your riding kit on…we'll put Eliza and Neil as the clowns, right?"
Terry smiled. He knew Candy was worried for him and that warmed him considerably. "Now that is an even better idea…" he said, picking up his verve again.
"Why don't you go lay down, Terry…you need to rest…oh! And before I forget, please take your analgesics" she said. She went to her purse, took a bottle out, and shook a couple of pills from it. She went back to Terry and put them in his hand "Here…". She went for some more water.
"I feel awful taking a bed away from you…" Terry started.
"Don't worry, Terrence…I've slept many times on forest floors for a long time…I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor; as I cannot allow the lady to sleep on the floor…" Albert assured him.
"Very well, then…I do not know how to properly thank you for everything you are doing for me…"
"You are family, Terry…" Albert replied, then realizing what he had just said. But neither Candy nor Terry said anything, so he considered it was best not to say anything more.
Everything was still in the small apartment; the only sounds that could be heard were the rhythmic breathing of each of the occupants that indicated their state of slumber. Terry turned to his right side and this awoke him a bit, the pain in his left side reminding him to watch it. He would have gone back to sleep when he heard stirring in the overhead bunk; Candy was moving as if she was awake. This woke him up completely, which wasn't very hard to do since he generally was a night person. He heard where Candy came down the bunk ladder. He didn't say a word; he was curious to see what she was up to. He followed her with his eyesight, saw that she took a chair from the dinette set and went to the window, opening it. He could see the clear night sky, with the stars and a third quarter moon. Candy sat down there for what seemed a very long time. He could hear what sounded like the deaf bumping of her rosary beads. Terry recalled having seen her pray at the clinic. "What that devotion, Freckles surely has got the whole of Heaven ready at her beck and call" he thought, touched. Suddenly, Terry noticed that Candy was crying. She had stopped praying and her voice was now a series of muffled sobs.
Silently, he got up, took the other chair and went towards her. He placed the chair next to hers and sat down.
"Candy..." he said gently, offering her a handkerchief.
"Oh...Terry!" she said surprised, in a small voice. She didn't want him to see her thus.
Terry put his arm around her shoulders and said, "If you are feeling sad; go ahead and cry…I just wanted to keep you company so that you didn't have to feel alone…"
Candy cried some more and rested her head on his shoulder. Terry could draw in her fragrance…brier roses. He stroked her curly blonde hair, which was down. Terry noticed that it went past her shoulders. He also noticed they both were in nightclothes, something he found deliciously intimate.
"I'm so worried about Alistear…Stear" she said finally "I've been so worried about you, but at least now I know you will be alright…but Stear…just to think that…to think that…" she moaned, starting to cry silently again, as not to wake Albert up.
"What is the matter with Alistear?" Terry asked, mystified.
Candy realized that Terry did not know what had happened. "Stear went off to join the French Air Force!" she whimpered, covering her mouth to muffle her anguish.
"By Saint George!" Terry murmured, "Good Heavens, why?"
"That is why I want to know…every night I've come here to pray for him…I look up at the moon and the stars and think that it is the same moon and stars he sees every night in France…I want him to know that I think about him so much, that I pray for his safe return…but I always end up crying…"
"Cry, my darling…it is better if you do so and let it out…I am here to console you…" Terry said, unconditionally. He took her hand and gave it a warm squeeze. How small, delicate yet strong it looked and felt in his large one, he couldn't help noticing.
Candy cried some more, whilst Terry internally tormented himself with mental images. Candy had more or less just told him that she had done the same for him every night…that meant that she had suffered as much as he did after the separation! His heart twinged at the thought.
After a while, he heard her calm down. "Are you alright?" he asked, "do you want a glass a water…although I don't know your place very well…I may end up stepping on Poupee by accident…"
"Yes, I am alright…don't worry, I'll go get some water for both of us…you should have some too…" she offered, feeling better. She got up and came back shortly with two glasses of water.
The couple took their water silently, just drinking in the beauty of the night and the beauty of each other's face bathed in moonlight. The spiritual communion between the two was most pleasant.
"How are you feeling, Terry." she finally asked.
"At your side, I'm always well." he responded.
"I meant your wound." she clarified.
"At your side, I will always be well." he emphasized. He could care less about his wound right now. He took her hand again and caressed it with his thumb.
Candy yawned, so pleased at his touch. "I think I should go to bed…it is getting late."
"I should too, although I may have a problem trying to fall asleep…" he said. He had such a strong desire to take her in his arms and kiss her that he was having a very hard time holding back.
"Are you an insomniac?" she asked, surprised.
"I'm not sure if I am or if it is the cat in me…I am usually more alert at night time…maybe that is why I have nine lives…" he laughed softly. "Don't worry, I always get what I need, sleep wise…go on and sleep sweetly." he said.
"Good night, Terry…" she said, reluctantly letting his hand go.
"Good night, Candy…" he replied, contented.
1 (George Bryan Brummell) , 1778-1840, English dandy and wit. Brummell was greatly admired for his fastidious appearance and confident manner. He was an intimate of the prince regent (later George IV), and as such influenced men of society to wear dark, simply cut clothes and elaborate neckwear. He is also credited with having set the fashion for trousers rather than breeches.
2 This is an actual, historic saloon in Chicago, that started business in 1890 and still operates as a bar/pub, in the area now known as Lincoln Park in Chicago. Author has actually had a couple of beers there!
3 This was a derisive term originally coined at English Sailors for their habit of sucking on limes to stave off scurvy.
4 About $93,000 in today's US Dollars
