Page 17 of A Mind of Her Own

Alex went to see Sylvia at the paper the next morning. She wore a simple black suit and her blond hair was pulled back. She looked serious when she walked into Sylvia’s office and asked if she had a minute. Sylvia was happy to see her and invited her in to sit down.

“How’s Oliver?” she asked kindly. “He scared the hell out of all of us. Thank God he survived. That was an awful business.” Alex didn’t say anything. She agreed, but it happened every day, and would again. It was how those “families” worked and how they did business, no matter how many lives it cost. It was just business to them.

“I wanted to give you this personally,” Alex said quietly, and handed Sylvia a letter across her desk. “It’s my letter of resignation. I loved working for you, and you were wonderful to me, but I’m going home.”

“To Chicago?” Sylvia could see what it was immediately, and had guessed from the look on Alex’s face.

“To Beardstown, Illinois.” Alex smiled. “It’s a tiny town in farm country. I have an opportunity at a paper there, in management.”

“That doesn’t sound like the job for you, Alex,” Sylvia said seriously.

“I think it is. Or it will be. And there are some other things I want to do. I want to write, and that’s hard to do here in New York. There are a lot of distractions.”

“Like boyfriends who get shot,” Sylvia said with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, like that.” Alex smiled back at her. She was subdued, and sad to leave the job. And Sylvia had been kind to her.

“You’ll get a lot further here in your career,” Sylvia insisted, but she knew she had already lost the argument. She could see that Alex had made up her mind.

“This isn’t what I want,” Alex said quietly.

“And Oliver?”

“That’s up to him. They promoted him to the head of Crime for getting shot. That’s a hard way to get a promotion.”

“Is he staying?”

“Probably.” Alex was realistic. She had thought about it all night and she doubted that Oliver would have the guts to leave New York and a big job for a hick town miles from anything with nothing but cows and corn around, and a small-town newspaper. And it would involve a real commitment to her that she no longer believed he would ever make. She had given up hope when he said he was ready to take the promotion as the head of Crime.

“Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Sylvia said gently. She doubted it too. “You never know.” Alex stood up then and thanked her. Sylvia hugged her and there were tears in both women’s eyes. “Stay in touch and call me if you come to New York. I have a feeling that book you want to write will be a knockout.” She meant it. Alex was a talented, rare find who would go far.

“I hope so.” Alex smiled through her tears, and left the office quickly. She didn’t stop to say goodbye to Sam or Tommy, because she didn’t want to run into Oliver starting his new job.

She had left her bags with the guard in the lobby and took a cab to Grand Central Terminal to catch her train. There would be no one to pick her up in Chicago the next day, to drive her home. She didn’t want to bother Horace. She had arranged for a limo service to pick her up and take her to Beardstown.

—

She slept on the train. She knew she’d done the right thing, but she was sad anyway. She liked Sylvia a lot. It had been exciting working for a major newspaper. She had learned some things she was taking with her, about newspapers. She wondered if she should start a modified society column in the Courier about local social events and the people who gave them. People liked reading about people they knew or wished they were. It gave them something to aspire to, and dream of. The principle was a good one. And she was going to write the women’s editorial column she had started before. She had already made a list of topics she wanted to address. It was going to be a women’s column, all about the issues that mattered to them. It was time that women had a voice in the farming community too, and everywhere else.

Before the train left New York, she stood on the platform for as long as she could, until the last whistle blew, looking for Oliver running down the platform. He never came. She didn’t really expect him to, but a part of her had hoped. She had left her heart with him. She knew he wouldn’t come now. He had his own path to follow and she couldn’t stop him or change that, any more than he could change hers. She had her own mind, and her own ideas and passions and values, and he had his. And they were no longer the same.

She wondered if she had gotten pregnant when they made love. It was too soon to know. If she had, she would bring up the child alone. Other women had done it, and she knew she could if she had to. She would have loved to share a life and family with Oliver, a family with a mother and father who loved each other as much as her parents had. She wanted to be the kind of mother hers had been, full of courage and bold ideas, willing to risk everything for her beliefs, wanting to make a difference in the world and to others, and to pay the price for it without regret. Her mother had risked her life for her dreams at her husband’s side, and Alex wanted to do that too.

The train lulled her to sleep that night, and she woke up early the next morning and was dressed and ready when they glided into La Salle Street Station. All her belongings had fit into two suitcases, and she set them down on the platform until the driver came to meet her, and a porter carried the bags to the car waiting outside for them. She didn’t know when she’d leave Beardstown again and come back to Chicago. She was going home, and she wanted to stay there for a while, without going anywhere. She had work to do. She hoped it would help her forget how much she loved Oliver.

The weather was good, and the drive took less than six hours. She had sent Josiah a telegram to say she was coming home. She didn’t explain, but he understood that she was coming home to stay. Something must have happened in New York, but she didn’t say what. She was like her grandfather—she kept some things to herself, and she had a mind of her own. He was sure she had a plan and would tell him in time, when he needed to know.

When they arrived, walked into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom, it felt like home. She still expected her grandfather to appear whenever she came back to Beardstown, his presence in the house was so strong. But there were a few things she wanted to change now, to make it her own.

She was at the paper the next morning when Josiah arrived. He was happy to see her. They shared a cup of coffee and he brought her up to date. She went to her grandfather’s office, and started working on her column. It was about the value of women in the workplace and the jobs they were better suited to than men. It was sure to cause comment and controversy, which had been an important ingredient in her grandfather’s columns too. He said it added spice to the subject, and she thought he was right, about that, and so many things he had taught her. His were big shoes to fill but she felt ready to begin her journey into her future.

—

She followed the schedule she’d set for herself. She worked at the paper until one o’clock every day, or two on heavy days, and then she went home, helped herself to whatever was in the fridge or a piece of fruit, and headed upstairs to her little sitting room. She had an old typewriter of her grandfather’s she had put on the desk. The room had a view of the fields beyond her property and a corner of the orchards and the pond. She sat there as long as she needed to, long past dinnertime sometimes, if she bothered to eat. It was harder than she expected, and slow going on some days. Some days she only wrote one page, and on other days it moved at a good clip. She had only two chapters of her book written so far, but she was determined to finish it, however long it took. She had set goals for herself and she intended to stick to them. She remembered her grandfather’s words that she could be whatever she wanted to be. She had said she wanted to be a writer when she was six. And she was sticking to that plan. She wanted to run a newspaper too. She was doing both.

She wanted to go back to France for a visit one day too, but she knew she wasn’t ready to do that yet. The memories were still painful. She owned her grandmother’s apartment, and the same tenant was in it, four years after she had left. She was turning twenty-two, and the war seemed a long time ago, and the life she had lived there as a child before the war. She still thought of Mamie-Thérèse frequently, and would always miss her.

She knew she wasn’t pregnant by then. She had been both relieved and disappointed when she found out she wasn’t. It would have been a way of hanging onto part of Oliver, the best part, a product of the love they had shared. And now even that was gone. She hadn’t heard from him since she left, and knew she never would. She had to make her peace with it, even though she loved him. Their time was past.

—

Alex had been in Beardstown for a month, and the fields were turning green. They would turn yellow in summer and the fields would be full of corn. But they were a lush emerald green now. She was on her way from the paper to the house one afternoon, to work on her book, when a car stopped near the house, and a man got out. He had his back to her at first and she didn’t recognize him. She wondered if he was lost. No one came all the way down the road to the house unless they were invited, she was expecting them, and she knew who they were. She watched as the stranger turned around, and time stopped for an instant. It was Oliver. They stood looking at each other for an endless moment, like a film that had stopped, and then he walked toward her. She didn’t move or smile. She didn’t know what to do or say, or what he was doing there. She hadn’t heard from him since she walked out of his apartment when he told her about his promotion, and it had been too much for her, after the terror of his being shot.

“Hello, Oliver,” were the only words she could muster. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in Chicago on business, and I lost my way and wound up here. Damned if I know how,” he said innocently, in his easy way, full of the charm she had tried so hard to forget and almost had. He made her smile.

“Do you want a glass of water before you go back?” she parried, and he laughed.

“That’s all I get after a six-hour drive?”

“Maybe so. What did you have in mind? I’m out of scotch and it’s against the law here. Prohibition, as you know.” It was a sensitive subject for both of them, but they got past the moment.

“I see you’ve started a women’s column in the Courier. I like it.” She was surprised that he’d seen it.

“How do you know?”

“I had a friend send it to me.” She couldn’t imagine who. Oliver had written to Josiah to ask how she was and to make sure she was all right, he’d asked Josiah not to tell her, which he had apparently respected, and he’d sent Oliver a copy of the paper. Oliver was impressed—it was so like her, with her clear opinions and bold ideas. He missed her even more when he read it.

Oliver was standing in front of Alex by then, facing her. He was as brave as she was. It had taken courage to come here and he had no idea what she’d say. She might just tell him to get off her property, but he guessed that she was too polite to be that blunt.

“Why did you come here, Ollie?” she asked, looking into his eyes. He looked different, but she wasn’t sure why. Maybe he really was in Chicago on business, chasing one of the Gambinos, or a Lucchese, and decided to show up in Beardstown for old times’ sake. It was a long way to come just to say hello. “You could have called me at the paper. I have a phone there.” She had ordered one for the house too, but she didn’t have it yet. She wanted to modernize, just as her grandfather would have.

“I had a job offer here a few months ago, and I wanted to know if it still stands. I quit the morning you left New York. I gave them a month’s notice and they gave me a great reference, if you’d like to see it. They gave Tommy the job. He deserves it and he wanted it. So I thought I’d see if the position at the Courier is still open—as I recall it was co-publisher, half days, so I could write in the afternoons.”

“I started a book,” she said, smiling cautiously. She seemed suddenly young again, and not as stern and suspicious as when he’d arrived.

“It’s about time,” he said, pleased for her. “How’s it going?”

“Slowly.”

“It’ll pick up speed as you go. Do you suppose I could have that glass of water you offered? I’m parched. So is the job still open?”

“I’ll have to discuss it with Josiah,” she said matter-of-factly, and led the way into the house. He followed her into the familiar kitchen. Josiah had seen the car drive past the newspaper and had guessed who it was. He hoped the meeting turned out well for Alex. He had come to love and respect her while working with her, and he liked Oliver too. He thought they were a good match. And they would make a good team.

Alex handed Oliver the glass of water and didn’t invite him to sit down. Their eyes met and held for a moment. “There’s something I meant to give you in New York. But things got away from me when I got shot.” He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a small black leather jeweler’s box, and held it out to her. She hesitated and didn’t take it from him. “It’s yours—you can keep it as a souvenir if you want. I’m not going to give it to anyone else. It’s brand-new, so there are no sad memories or history to it. It was for a fresh start for both of us. I thought we needed that.” She nodded, and not knowing what else to do, she reached out and took it from him and opened the box. It was a beautiful round diamond solitaire, an engagement ring.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

“So are you, and you deserve it, Alex,” he said softly. “I should have done it sooner. I don’t think I even knew how much I loved you until you took care of me after I was shot. I was a mess for a while, but everything you said that day was true. I needed to hear it.”

“I haven’t heard anything from you for a month,” she said, and he nodded.

“I’m not great on that, as we both know. I thought this conversation should happen face-to-face. You’re not pregnant?” he asked her gently.

“No, so you don’t need to marry me,” she said, and handed the box back to him. It was the right thing to do, in her mind, if that was why he was proposing to her.

“That’s not why I asked you. I wanted to marry you either way.” He didn’t take the ring back from her. “Keep it. Can we try again?” he asked, afraid to hope.

“I’m not ready for children yet,” she said. “There’s a lot I want to do first.”

“Me too. But I want to do all of it with you. Nothing means anything without you, Alex. I love you. If you don’t love me anymore, I understand, but I wanted you to know. I didn’t want to be sorry later that I didn’t tell you again. I’m sorry I took so long. I needed to grow up. I wasn’t ready when I met you. You changed everything in my life. I want to be here with you, work on the paper, write our books together. Have kids one day if you want them, or not. It’s up to you. I love you, whatever you want to do. I want to see the world with you. And live where you are. I fell in love with this place when we spent Christmas here. I’m sorry I never met your grandfather.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, still holding the ring box he wouldn’t take back.

“I came here because I love you, and I was hoping like hell that you still love me too, even after all the misery I put you through when I got shot.”

“I didn’t want to lose another person I love. I thought you were going to die. And you might have if you took the job at the paper as head of Crime. I thought they’d kill you.”

“So did I. And I don’t want to lose you. So…what do you think?…Is the job still open, or has the position been filled? Or have you decided to run the paper alone?” That was a distinct possibility too, and she was well capable of running The Beardstown Courier by herself. He knew that, but he wanted to help. She smiled and handed the box back to him, and he took it as a refusal of his proposal.

“You’ve got the job,” she said. “You’re the only one I want to run the paper with. Now do it right.” He looked shocked and blank for a minute. He didn’t know what she meant. “You know, put it on…” She gestured at the box in his hand and the floor with a meaningful look and pointed at his knees, and he laughed.

“Sorry…I missed my cue…” He got down on one knee in his city suit he wore to important meetings, with the ring in his hand.

“Alexandra Bouvier, will you marry me, to have and to hold, for better or worse, to love and to cherish, and not to obey, until death do us part?” She was smiling and she kissed him, still on his knees in her kitchen.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” she said, as he slipped the bright sparkling ring on her finger, and he stood up and kissed her properly that time. He had arrived a month later than she had, and had taken longer to get there, but he was home now too. It had been a long road for both of them. It was the path that had been meant for them since the day they met. Oliver had been wise enough to realize it before it was too late. Alex smiled as she looked at the ring on her hand and kissed him. It was going to be an interesting life with him. it had taken them two years to get there. They had healed each other’s wounds, and were ready to face the future, as equal partners, and Oliver accepted her as the woman he loved, with a mind of her own. And standing together, hand in hand, they made each other brave.