Jack and Susan in 1933 by Michael McDowell Read Free Book Online Page B

motion. Grace’s bulk and Jack’s weakened musculature didn’t accomplish much in the way of propulsion. “Tell her to come here and speak to me. For God’s sake, don’t let her go downstairs before she’s spoken to me. Hurry!”
    Grace hurried out in search of Barbara.
    Barbara was on the staircase landing with the large oval window overlooking the gravel driveway. Jack knew this because of her scream. It was loud, long, and echoing. Before the last echoes had died away, bounding off the walls of the hallways of the first and second floors of the mansion, Barbara had collided with Grace on the way to Jack’s suite.
    â€œHe told me that Miss Bright no longer existed for him,” Jack pleaded.
    â€œOf course Miss Bright no longer existed for him!” Barbara screeched. “He married her! And Miss Bright turned into Mrs. Dodge! This unfortunate union is your doing. We owe it to Harmon to see that it’s annulled. This will kill Father. Father loves Harmon. Father wanted me to marry Harmon. When I married you, it nearly killed Father. When he sees who and what Harmon married, he’ll die for sure.”
    Barbara flounced out and left Jack to figure out just how much and what part of her last speech had been exaggeration.

    Jack oiled and brushed his hair and put on a proper shirt and jacket as introductions were made downstairs. Marcellus Rhinelander already knew of the marriage, it turned out, and had himself invited Harmon and his new wife over. Downstairs, with low frosted windows overlooking the icy brown lawn and the river, was a parlor furnished with chairs and sofas that were deeply cushioned and covered with chintz. They were as soft and plush and cold as the interior of an expensive coffin. Here sat Harmon and Susan Dodge on either ends of a small sofa. There sat Barbara across from them, looking both bored and scandalized. Rhinelander at a side table poured real liquor into old cut-glass tumblers.
    Jack looked at Susan Bright first, just to make sure it was Susan Bright. It was. Or wasn’t. It was Susan Dodge.
    He looked at Harmon. Harmon smiled a smile that said I didn’t lie, did I now? And knowing Barbara as we both do, do you blame me, Jackie my boy, for telling the truth in so underhanded a fashion? Jack didn’t blame Harmon. Jack would probably have done the same. But it didn’t make life with Barbara any easier.
    He looked at Barbara. Barbara frowned at him, then smiled, and the smile was worse than the frown. The smile said, Whatever happens, I blame you .
    â€œJack,” said Marcellus, bringing him a tumbler of brandy. Jack knew it was real brandy by the way it sloshed against the clear side of the glass. “You’ve already met Susan, I understand.”
    â€œI wish you happiness,” said Jack with a politeness studied and cold, and he raised his glass in a gesture that he hoped was distant and ironical. This was all to appease Barbara, of course. He didn’t feel particularly studied, cold, distant, or ironical when he looked at Susan Dodge. He rather pitied her. He could imagine that being married to Harmon Dodge was, in its way, rather like being married to Barbara Rhinelander, though different in details.
    â€œI congratulate you,” he said with a little smile of cold mischief to Harmon. The cold mischief was for Barbara, too. Actually, Jack did feel like congratulating Harmon. Possibly Susan could make him happy. She looked like the sort.
    â€œI was just telling Susan that though I’d never met her, I found her face familiar,” Marcellus went on. He moved very close to Susan and peered at her.
    â€œI wouldn’t be surprised, Father, if her face were familiar,” said Barbara in her bland, dangerous voice. “Susan was an entertainer on the variety stage.”
    â€œHarmon did say you’d studied music,” said Barbara’s father in the same tone of voice he might remark to an ax