Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Finally Spoke
Marjorie Bell called me thirty-seven minutes later.
I was sitting in the bridal suite with my mother, looking at the empty hanger where my uniform had been.
The clock on the wall read 1:18.
The ceremony should have started at two.
Guests were waiting downstairs.
Some had traveled across the country.
My commanding officer had flown in from Texas.
Several soldiers I'd served with had driven overnight.
And my wedding had turned into a fight over destroyed property, buried military service, and financial records nobody wanted examined.
When my phone rang, I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the caller's name.
Marjorie.
I answered.
"Hello?"
For several seconds, all I heard was breathing.
Then she whispered, "Captain Lennox?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Her voice shook.
"I'm so sorry."
I sat up.
"Marjorie, where are you?"
A pause.
"At the old service station on Whitaker Street."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Vivian dropped me here."
"Are you okay?"
She gave a small, broken laugh.
"I don't think so."
I looked at Dana.
She immediately moved closer.
"Marjorie, what happened?"
The woman began crying.
"I've been helping them."
I waited.
"Helping who?"
"Mr. Robert."
Her voice cracked.
"And Vivian."
I closed my eyes.
"With the uniform?"
"With more than that."
The room suddenly felt very still.
Marjorie continued.
"I used to organize the foundation mail."
She swallowed.
"The scholarship applications."
I glanced at Dana.
She was listening closely.
"What about them?"
"Every year, people wrote asking for help."
Her voice trembled.
"Veterans trying to finish school."
"Military spouses."
"Children whose parents had been killed."
My chest tightened.
Marjorie took a shaky breath.
"Mr. Robert told me to forward the applications to Vivian."
"Okay."
"But sometimes the names disappeared."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"They weren't on the award lists."
I looked toward the window.
"Maybe they weren't selected."
"That's what I thought."
She began crying again.
"But some applicants called to thank us for money they never received."
I went cold.
"What?"
"One woman said she'd gotten a letter telling her she'd been awarded twelve thousand dollars."
Marjorie paused.
"Then the payment never came."
Dana slowly sat down.
I asked, "Did you tell Robert?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He told me it was a bank error."
Her voice became smaller.
"He said the accountants would fix it."
"And did they?"
"I don't know."
I closed my eyes.
This was no longer just a question about whether Robert was unpleasant or controlling.
It sounded like something that might require a professional investigation.
I knew enough not to turn a phone conversation into an accusation I couldn't prove.
"Marjorie."
"Yes?"
"Do you have copies of anything?"
Silence.
Then she whispered, "Some."
I looked at Dana.
"What kind of copies?"
"Letters."
"Applications."
"Payment instructions."
She swallowed.
"I kept them because I was afraid someone would say I lost the paperwork."
Dana nodded.
I spoke carefully.
"Where are they?"
"At my house."
I took a breath.
"Please don't destroy anything."
"I won't."
"And don't confront Robert or Vivian again."
She began crying.
"Captain, I'm frightened."
My voice softened.
"I understand."
"I've worked for these people almost two decades."
"I know."
"They can ruin me."
I looked at Dana.
Then at my ruined uniform.
And I thought about all the years I'd spent feeling small around Constance.
If I had felt that way as a commissioned officer with a salary and a life of my own, I could only imagine what Marjorie had endured as an employee dependent on the family.
"Marjorie," I said quietly.
"You don't have to decide everything right now."
She sniffed.
"Then what should I do?"
"Go somewhere you feel safe."
I paused.
"And talk to an attorney before handing over documents or making statements."
Dana nodded.
"Preferably someone independent of the Prescotts."
Marjorie breathed out.
"All right."
Then she whispered, "There's one more thing."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What?"
"I saw Vivian writing the note."
I closed my eyes.
Marjorie continued.
"She asked me to bring her the place-card samples."
I sat up.
"Why?"
"She said she wanted to match Mrs. Prescott's handwriting."
My heart began pounding.
"Did she tell you what she was writing?"
"No."
A pause.
"But I saw the card afterward."
I stared at the floor.
"Know your place."
Marjorie began crying again.
"Yes."
I took a slow breath.
"Thank you for telling me."
Then she said something that made my stomach twist.
"She said Uncle Robert wanted the bride to understand who was in charge."
I looked at Dana.
We exchanged a long, silent look.
Marjorie continued.
"Vivian laughed."
Her voice shook.
"She said a woman from Hinesville wasn't going to take over the Prescott family."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Not because I was surprised.
Because there was something exhausting about hearing cruelty confirmed.
The note hadn't been written in anger.
It hadn't been a momentary mistake.
It had been planned.
Copied.
Pinned to the very ribbons that meant the most to me.
And placed where I would find it on the morning of my wedding.
Marjorie whispered, "Captain?"
"I'm here."
"I should have stopped it."
I closed my eyes.
"Yes."
She began crying harder.
I let the silence sit between us.
Then I said, "But you're telling the truth now."
She sniffed.
"I want to make it right."
"Then keep telling the truth."
When I ended the call, Dana let out a long breath.
"Well."
I looked at her.
She shook her head.
"That answers the handwriting question."
I stared at the phone.
"It answers some of it."
Mom sat beside me.
"What are you thinking?"
I looked at her.
"I'm thinking about the people who applied for those scholarships."
She nodded slowly.
I continued.
"If Robert and Vivian have been mishandling that money, somebody could have lost the chance to go to school."
"Or worse," Dana said.
I nodded.
Then Mom placed a hand on my knee.
"Erin, that isn't all yours to fix."
"I know."
She studied my face.
"Do you?"
I looked at the window.
Outside, Savannah sunlight fell across the live oaks.
Guests were beginning to gather near the chapel.
I could see a woman in a pink dress checking her watch.
A little boy chased his sister across the grass.
Somewhere, a string quartet was warming up.
They had no idea what was happening inside.
I thought of all the months spent planning the wedding.
The flowers.
The seating chart.
The invitations.
The stupid argument about whether the cake should have lemon filling.
And I felt grief rise all over again.
I had wanted one beautiful day.
One.
Not a grand society event.
Not a celebration of the Prescott family name.
Just a day when I could stand beside Spencer, with my father's memory close enough to feel, and promise to love someone who promised to love me back.
Instead, I was sitting in my underwear discussing possible financial misconduct.
I covered my face.
"I'm so tired."
Mom wrapped an arm around me.
"I know, sweetheart."
Dana looked at the clock.
"Erin."
I raised my head.
"What?"
"You need to make a decision about the guests."
I swallowed.
She was right.
We couldn't leave a hundred and eighty people sitting in a chapel indefinitely.
My phone buzzed.
Spencer.
I'm outside your door.
Can we talk?
I looked at Mom.
Then Dana.
"Give us a minute?"
They both nodded.
When Spencer entered, he looked as though he'd aged five years.
His jacket was gone.
His tie hung loose.
His eyes were red.
He stood just inside the doorway.
"Hi."
I almost smiled.
"Hi."
He looked at the empty hanger.
Then at me.
"I'm so sorry."
I took a breath.
"I know."
He sat across from me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, "I told Julian to keep the reception food available for the guests."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"And I spoke with your commanding officer."
I looked up sharply.
"What?"
"He asked if you were all right."
My throat tightened.
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth."
I stared at Spencer.
He looked down at his hands.
"I told him someone destroyed your uniform."
He swallowed.
"And that my family was responsible."
My eyes filled.
Spencer continued.
"He said to tell you the unit was proud of you."
I couldn't speak.
"He also said if you needed help replacing the uniform, he would make calls."
I covered my mouth.
Spencer looked at me.
"Erin."
His voice broke.
"I should have defended you years ago."
I looked down.
"I know."
"I thought keeping the peace was the kind thing to do."
I said nothing.
He shook his head.
"But I wasn't keeping the peace."
His eyes filled.
"I was asking you to pay for it."
A sob caught in my throat.
That was exactly what he'd been doing.
Every uncomfortable dinner.
Every insult disguised as a joke.
Every time he asked me to ignore his mother's remarks.
He had been buying family peace with my dignity.
Spencer leaned forward.
"I don't expect you to forgive that today."
I looked at him.
"I love you."
He nodded.
"I know."
"But I don't know if I can marry you today."
His face crumpled.
He looked away.
Then he breathed in.
"Okay."
The word broke my heart.
Because he meant it.
He wasn't arguing.
He wasn't bargaining.
He wasn't asking me to make everyone comfortable.
He was listening.
Finally.
I reached for his hand.
"Can you do something for me?"
He nodded immediately.
"Anything."
"Go to the chapel."
His eyes searched mine.
"And tell everyone the ceremony isn't happening today."
He closed his eyes.
Then nodded.
"I will."
"Tell them I'm safe."
"Okay."
"Tell them this isn't some dramatic misunderstanding."
He looked at me.
"It isn't."
"And Spencer?"
"Yes?"
I squeezed his hand.
"Don't blame me."
He stared at me.
Then tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Never."
He stood.
At the door, he turned.
"Erin?"
I looked up.
"I'm going to tell them what happened."
I swallowed.
"How much?"
He took a breath.
"Enough that nobody leaves thinking you did something wrong."
Then he walked out.
I sat there listening to his footsteps fade.
For the first time since the morning began, I believed he might actually be changing.
But I also knew one brave afternoon could not erase two years of silence.
Then my phone rang again.
An unfamiliar number.
I almost declined.
Instead, I answered.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
"Captain Lennox?"
"Yes."
"My name is Daniel Rourke."
I froze.
He continued.
"I understand you've been asking questions about Catherine Vale."
I stood so abruptly that the chair tipped backward.
"How did you get my number?"
A pause.
"Your mother gave it to me."
I stared toward the door.
Daniel's voice was quiet.
"I knew your father."
My throat tightened.
"He told me about you."
I swallowed.
"Mr. Rourke."
"Please."
His voice broke.
"Call me Daniel."
Then he said something I never expected.
"Your father asked me to make you a promise before he died."
I gripped the phone.
"What promise?"
Daniel paused.
May you like
And his next words left me unable to speak.
"He asked me to tell you the truth about the nurse who saved both our lives."
