Chapter Twenty-Two: Journals
Phoebe's death brought more clarity than I would have thought possible.
Patty offered her mom a weak smile as she wrapped her arm around Patty's shoulders. They were in the park, and the funeral had ended mere minutes ago. For some reason only Patience knew but insisted on not divulging, Phoebe had requested to be cremated and to have her ashes spread throughout the park. Patience had done the honor herself, holding herself more composed than Patty had expected. She, on the other hand, had been a wreck for awhile. The idea that Phoebe was dead was simply unfathomable.
"I don't know why Patience agreed to see the lawyer about Phoebe's will tonight," said Penny. She didn't sound irritated, as Patty would have expected. Merely tired, and sad. "It could have waited."
Patty shrugged, and hugged herself a little closer to her mom. Their silent feud had been forgotten the moment the phone rang on Thanksgiving, and Patty couldn't help be feel relieved. She needed her mom, now more than ever.
They had agreed to meet the lawyer at the manor after the funeral, and Patty was personally dreading it. Maybe Patience had thought it was something to get over and done with as soon as possible. If so, Patty could hardly blame her. Phoebe's death could be harder on no one than her grandmother.
Patty opened the door to her uncle's car and slipped into the back seat. She was sandwiched between her mother and Gordie; Patience was the last into the car.
"Phoebe will be happy knowing we did as she said," said Patience as she settled into the seat. Patty thought this statement was meant for Gordon, who, always the insensitive, most likely would have commented on the matter. The funeral had hardly been traditional in any sense of the word.
"Of course she will," said Penny. She took Patty's hand and squeezed it, hard. Patty forced the lump in her throat not to well up again.
"I didn't even get to say goodbye!" she had said to her mom on the night of the call. She had slept in her mother's room that night, feeling afraid of the dark again. It had been the same when her father died.
Death was terrifying, she thought. Not because of the unknown, because Patty certainly had more knowledge than the average person, but because of the grief so overwhelming you could never be sure you'd survive it. How many more deaths would she have to see, before her own? Too many, she thought. Always, too many.
The lawyer was already there when they arrived home. Patience waited no time in sinking into a seat across from the man and folding her hands in her lap. Patty sat down next to her and Patience put a hand on top of hers, patting it reassuringly.
"Hello, Mr. Michaels," Patience said to the lawyer. He nodded in return, and Patty felt a childlike urge to lay her head against her grandmother's shoulder.
Once everyone was seated, Mr. Michaels wasted no time. Almost immediately he launched into a speech; platitudes of sorrow for Phoebe's passing; what Phoebe had wanted with her will; how specific she had been. Patty found herself unable to concentrate entirely on what he was saying. He was only adding to the acute pain in Patty's heart that had been constant since Thanksgiving.
"I'm not going to read the entire will to you today," said Mr. Michaels. "For the most part, it's straightforward. An equally divided sum of money. Possessions to be sold or divided amongst the family. There are, however, a few specifics. I'll just read through them quickly, now." He cleared his throat. "'To Mr. Gordon Johnson, IV I leave my collection my entire library of books. To Mrs. Penelope Halliwell I will my good ballpoint pen, my collection of family letters, and my family tree. To Miss Patricia Halliwell I leave my journals,'" at this, Patience's hand tightened over Patty's, "'and to Mrs. Patience Johnson, I leave this letter.'" Mr. Michaels looked up from the will and nodded. "The collection of letters, the letter to Mrs. Johnson, and the journals are all in my possession and I am ready to give them to you today."
"What?" said Patience faintly.
"She asked that you read the letter now, Mrs. Johnson. She says you'll understand when you do."
Patty looked at her grandmother curiously, and then directed her attention back to Mr. Michaels, who opened his briefcase and removed the aforementioned items. He handed the journals to Patty, who fingered them lovingly. There were nine of them, in total, each crafted of plain black leather.
"Mrs. Johnson," said Mr. Michaels. "Your letter."
"Thank you," said Patience, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. She was staring at the journals as hard as Patty was.
"Once again, I'm very sorry for your loss," said Mr. Michaels. "I'll be in contact, of course." He shook his head. "I'll show myself out." And to Patty's relief, he was gone.
"Aren't you going to open the letter, Grandma?" asked Gordie.
Patience looked up at him. "Oh, um, yes, I suppose." She undid the envelope and opened the letter; Patty tried her hardest not to stare as her grandmother read, though it became harder and harder as Patience's calm facade dissolved into tears. When she finally folded the letter again, Penny wasted no time in coming over to the sofa and pulling her mother into a hug. Patty stood and walked away to give them room.
"Mom, do you want to go upstairs and lie down in my room for awhile?" asked Penny.
Patience simply continued to cry.
"Come on, Mom," said Penny. "It's been a long day."
With Gordon's help, Penny escorted Patience from the room, leaving Patty and Gordie alone.
"Are you okay?" asked Gordie.
Patty shook her head. "Not really. How about you?"
"I feel like crap," he said. He leaned back against the wall. "I miss her a lot, and she hasn't even been gone a week."
"It doesn't really get better," said Patty. "At least it didn't with my dad."
Gordie smiled a little, sadly or ironically, Patty couldn't tell. "Yeah. It didn't with my mom either."
"Gordie," said Gordon, reappearing in the room. Even his voice sounded hoarse. "Let's go home, son. Grandma's going to stay here tonight."
Gordie nodded. "See you, Patty," he said.
"Bye, Gordie," said Patty.
Her uncle inclined his head towards her, and then they were gone and Patty was alone.
She sank down on the couch and cried.
It wasn't until two days later that Patty felt well enough to open Phoebe's journals. Her mom had taken Patience home that morning, and was now puttering around in the kitchen, trying to keep her hands busy. Patty, though, needed to occupy her mind, and, as painful as it would be, she knew exactly where she wanted to start. She opened the journal dated 1923-1925, and flipped through until the found the exact date she needed.
February 17, 1924
We vanquished Penelope today. We. Vanquished. Penelope. Lord, I can't fathom that I'm even writing these words. I can hardly breath. I can't believe what we did.
Patience was violently ill all night. I feel ill. I feel...numb.
We had to do it though! She brought that evil warlock into our home. She let him corrupt her. She was evil. We wanted to believe the best of her, Patience and I, but it had to be done. It had to. God, how will I ever forgive myself for this?
The warlock and Penelope came in today and began killing, throwing fire...we had no choice. And I can't believe we weren't better prepared; Penelope almost triumphed. That horrible, evil being, he disguised himself as Arnold, and approached Patience. I'm shocked he wasn't able to kill her. Patience hasn't been right in her mind since everything that happened with Arnold.
Patty's eyes widened. Arnold? What in the world? Who the hell was Arnold? Quickly she began to flip back through the pages, and entry after entry mentioned the same name. Finally, though, she found the first one.
April 3, 1923
Today was undeniably the most shocking, amazing, miraculous day of my entire life. No one would ever have guessed this would happen; it's too fantastic. Today, Arnold came back!
I was out sweeping the front steps and Patience was in the house. Thank the Lord, Gordon was out. I can't fathom what his reaction might have been. In any case, I was sweeping when I noticed someone standing across the street, just staring at me. It was a disconcerting feeling, so I glanced up, and there was Arnold. I would have known him anywhere. Still, it was impossible, so I thought maybe I was wrong, when he crossed the street and plain as day said, 'Hello, Phoebe.'
I had to lean onto the broom for support; I confess, I have never been closer to fainting dead away in my life, and I've seen many shocking things. Could he be a ghost? I thought, but no, he was corporeal and real and so very alive. 'Arnold,' I said. 'What are you doing here? How are you here? You were dead!'
'I was never dead. It was just reported I was. I-' And then he stopped talking and just stared behind my shoulder. I turned to see and, of course, it was Patience; she had come outside to ask me something. Seeing Arnold was even worse for her; she fainted right there in the doorway and within seconds both Arnold and I were at her side, bringing her into the house.
Once we revived her, Patience sat up, grasping my arm, practically clawing it. She was so pale and I really did think she might faint again. 'Arnold,' she said. 'Is it really you?'
'Yes,' said Arnold. 'God, Patience. I didn't think I'd ever see you again.'
And then Patience echoed my same questions and Arnold explained everything. He told us that he was wounded, badly, near the end of the war, and, in fact, fell into a coma. He was rushed to a hospital in France, but they could not revive him. He remained there until December 1921! 1921, it's astonishing! When he finally awoke he was so far gone from any semblance of fitness; he told us it took him another year to relearn everything; how to walk, how to write, everything. And then he found out that he had been reported dead, incorrectly, to his family in the states. It's like something out of a novel, but I swear it's true. By this point, Patience was crying; I think I may have been too. Lord. So he finally got back to America early this year. He stopped and visited his aunt; his mother died during the war, and it was only then that he found out, poor darling. And while he was there, (and here he could not look at Patience) he discovered that Patience had married Gordon. He told us he debated for a long time whether or not to come visit, or to just let Patience live in ignorance of his person, and finally he decided he simply had to come.
Patience, bless her heart, said, 'Lord, Arnold. Of course you should have come! I missed you so much!' And she threw her arms around him, clutching onto him as though the pair would blow away. By now, Arnold too was crying. It was heart wrenching and horrible.
Then, before anything else could be said, the front door opened and we heard Gordon's voice. Patience panicked, threw herself away from Arnold, and froze everything. Then she unfroze Arnold and said, 'Please, Arnold, Gordon's home and I can't even begin to explain this. Please, can you just...' And Arnold nodded sadly and said, 'Of course, Patience. I understand.' So she escorted him to the back door (Patience told me later that he told her the name of the hotel he was staying at) and then returned and unfroze Gordon.
We made up some insipid reason that we were crying, of course, and Gordon believed us. He has no inkling of the truth.
And now Patience is out. She went to Arnold's hotel to meet him, and I cannot say what will happen next. My mind is still reeling. I can't imagine what Patience is going through; she loved Arnold so much and now he's returned. This is too much. Too much.
Patty shook her head, her mind reeling as much as Phoebe's had been, so many years ago. She'd never heard so much as a whisper about Arnold. But here he was, mentioned clear as day in Phoebe's journal. What in the world. Quickly, Patty turned the page, eager for more.
April 8, 1923
Patience has been meeting with Arnold every day since he came to the manor, but I have not seen him again at our home. I know she hasn't told Gordon about it, and I don't know what to make of the situation. I asked Patience, mincing no words, if she was having an affair with Arnold, but she told me they weren't. She said all they have been doing is talking. But I can see the pain in her eyes; whether it is the pain of lying to me, or the pain of lying to Gordon, or the pain of knowing that she wants to be with Arnold when she never can be, I do not know. If only Arnold had come home from the war earlier. Patience and Gordon have scarcely been married a year; this all could have been circumvented.
I have no idea if Patience will be able to remain faithful to her husband and her vows of marriage. She is the most single-mindedly devoted woman I know, but she was devoted to Arnold first. She promised to wed him first. Can what she promised Gordon mean anything compared to that?
Grandma was going to marry Arnold? Patty could hardly breath. This explained everything. Why there was so much more to the pain she could see in her grandmother every day.
I'm very worried for my cousin. Oh, if only Penelope was here. Perhaps she would know what to do, how to reach Patience. I am at my wits end with worry.
April 17, 1923
I can scarcely believe it. Patience, my dear, faithful cousin, is having an affair! I did worry so that this would happen. I can't even imagine what will happen if Gordon discovers the truth. Thank goodness he is so hopelessly naive when it comes to anything involving Patience. He's practically blind to her actions.
I wrote Penelope yesterday, asking her to please stop playing the ex-patriot and return to the states. She knew of Arnold and Patience's relationship even better than I did. Perhaps she can help Patience come to her senses. For the life of me, I cannot think of how to help.
In other news, I got word from home today. Mother wrote to tell me about Arnold and to warn me that he might come by. Maybe she thought I could circumvent a reunion between the star-crossed lovers. Alas, though, it was not meant to be.
She also sent word that Margaret has returned from the east coast and looks forward to seeing me sometime soon, she hopes. I would love that. I've missed Margaret greatly. Perhaps Landon and I can drive up to see her sometime. It would help me to get my mind away from Patience's problems.
I do hope Penelope agrees to come home.
May 12, 1923
Penelope says she will not cut her trip short simply because Patience has had such a good turn of fortune. Good turn of fortune, she says! How can this be so? Now my dear cousin is torn between two loves (though I must confess, only guilt seems to fuel any emotion toward Gordon. All her love seems directed toward her lover). Penelope claims that Patience was always meant to be with Arnold, and if fate has finally brought them together, so be it. She also noted that scandal was something Patience needed to experience, at least once in her life, and what better way than a divorce if she was guaranteed to still marry her true love.
All of it is nonsense, except for one point she made toward the end. 'If only Patience hadn't been directed not to marry Arnold when he proposed, then she would now be doubly wed and able to leave Gordon for Arnold with nothing more than a migraine for her problems.' Lord, in retrospect I do wish she had married Arnold before the war.
I suppose, though, that if this is how Penelope feels, than it is better that she doesn't come home until August. The last thing Patience needs is that sort of moral guidance.
Patty set down the journal, trembling over the words she had read. Could this really all be true? Somehow, she knew instinctively that it was. But clearly her grandmother never took Penelope's advice. She hadn't divorced her grandfather, which meant she must have ended things with Arnold. But how? And when? Without much thought, Patty began to flip through the pages, her eyes flying for any sign of a breakup. Finally, she found it.
September 24, 1923
Patience has been crying all day. So much that she has taken ill and remained in bed. Gordon is beside himself with worry, which only adds to Patience's source of tears. For those tears, though, I cannot help be feel it is the least she can do. She has chosen not to take either my advice or Penelope's and insists on leaving Gordon in the dark regarding her relationship with Arnold.
At least Arnold has stayed away; Patience was correct when she said he would cause no problems for her. I simply cannot help but feel sorry for the entire lot of them, though. Arnold, alone and lost, yet again. Gordon, betrayed and ignorant. And poor Patience, torn between two loves. It is for the best though, I think, that she broke it off with Arnold. They were clearly never meant to be.
Oh, Landon is here. I wonder what in the world he needs at this time of day.
---
Heavenly Lord, I should know by now that when things seem bad for us that it will always manage to become worse. Terribly, terribly worse.
Landon came by to tell me that they found Arnold's body in the bay today. They found his car there too, and they're not sure if it was an accident or a suicide.
What am I going to tell Patience? She'll never forgive herself, and she'll never believe it was an accident.
Lord, help me.
September 30, 1923
I've decided to remain buttoned up about Arnold's death. Landon and I discussed it and we decided that there is no reason to turn Patience's world upside-down again. Finally, today, she got out of bed.
I went to the funeral with Landon, and we begged Mother, Margaret, Mrs. McKee, and Arnold's aunt to remain closed mouthed about it to Patience. This will be a secret I take to the grave if I can help it.
Will life ever be normal again?
Patty set down the journal, slowly, and shook her head. She wondered if her grandmother had ever found out the truth about Arnold. Perhaps Phoebe would have mentioned it somewhere else if she had, but Patty could think of nothing now but talking to her grandma. Without another thought in her mind, she climbed out of bed, shoved on her shoes, and headed to her grandmother's house. She was going to get answers, tonight.