In Name Only: The Journal of Margret Ford

For the first time in all our years of living this lie together, I used my power as his mother. I told her to stop whatever it was she was doing to James, immediately. She'd been hurt by my heated words, but, in order to obtain peace for my son, it had been necessary.

My assertiveness made for a very uncomfortable evening meal. I was sure Walter heard of my actions, and most likely disapproved, although he showed no sign of it. He treated me like he always does; with polite fondness.

Feeling a headache coming on, I reminded the children to go to bed on time, and escaped to my bedroom. I smile when I think of James's expression at the table. I think he was relieved to no longer be the target of his aunt's strange behavior.

That's the last thought I had before I closed my eyes.

***********

I don't know what awakened me. Perhaps it was a deafening clap of thunder or the hail sounding like thousands of golf balls thudding on the roof. Or, perhaps it was a pair of strong arms clasping me tightly against a long, hard body.

I twisted my head around to face the owner. "James?" I said, groggily. "What are you doing in here?"

His hot mouth nuzzled my neck and my nipple stiffened. "Remember when I used to lie in your bed on stormy nights, Margret?" His deep voice rumbled against my racing pulse.

His voice sent unwanted sensations down my spine, my heart beat faster than a humming bird's wings. "You're not—" I swallowed, "you're not a child anymore, James. Your fear of storms left you quite some time ago." I tried to remove bands of steel from around my waist. "James—"

"But what of my other fears, Margret... won't you help me with those?" He pulled me tightly against the length of his frame. My silk nightie had risen up to my waist, leaving me vulnerable to his burning need. He pressed his heavy, twitching rod between my butt cheeks.

I'm sure he felt the thunderous beating of my heart when he cupped my breasts in his hands. I didn't know what to say or think except... "J-James," I whispered shakily, "g-go back to your room, darling, I-I think the storm's passed." A blinding flash of lightning and clap of thunder belied my words.

"It hasn't, not yet," he moaned, grinding his penis against me.

I gasped and tried to disengage myself from his hold.

"Let me stay. I want to be near you." he whispered thickly.

I loved him so much, and wanted to give him anything he asked of me, but I wouldn't allow him to become a victim of a young man's natural—but fleeting—fascination for his mother. "No, darling, go to your room."

James squeezed me in his arms, inhaling my scent as he pressed himself against me, his staff twitched hotly between my buttocks. "Margret..." he breathed, "I need to be with you."

"James... James, darling... I-I understand." Although I felt faint from the strange quaking his nearness caused, I was finally able to loosen his hold on me. I quickly jumped out of bed. "But this will pass, and you'll feel better soon." I was relieved to have some distance between us.

He emitted a harsh sigh, and then he rolled off the bed to face me, pinning me with his fiery gaze. "You don't understand anything." He hissed bitterly.

"But I do, James—really." I said, sympathetically. "All will be well with you again, darling, I promise."

James stared, his eyes running up and down my body in a way that made me quite uncomfortable. I instinctively reached for my robe.

James's lips twisted as I covered up my semi-translucent nightie. "Like I said before, you don't understand anything." He said in a hard voice, and then he slipped from my room just as quietly as he entered.

I took off my robe and got back into bed. His problem seemed to be getting worse. I had to help him. He needed someone to vent his sexual desires—someone his own age. I wondered if I shouldn't invite a few young ladies to Oaksberth. Surely that would snap James out of this fascination he seems to have developed for me.

Perhaps I should call on Mildred Pemphrey-Hall. She has a daughter, Lynette, who is quite possibly the most beautiful creature in all of Connecticut. Gifted with her mother's vibrant red hair and exquisite grey eyes, not to mention a voluptuous figure, she's a siren, and is highly sought after by all the young males in society. James will be lucky to vey for her attention. There's no doubt in my mind he could woo her and win her heart. After all he is Walter's son.

I was suddenly filled with purpose. If the beautiful Lynette cannot capture his interest then... But I'm positive she will. How could she not?

Oaksbeth, September 1968

I invited Lynette to lunch at Oaksberth. We don't usually have such magnificent fare for the midday meal, but for her I pulled out all the stops. I had the cook prepare a three course meal. She seemed delighted and eager to lunch with us. Her apparent pleasure bolstered my hopes for a successful match. Lynette was definitely interested in James, if her blushes and secret glances were anything to go by.

I thought they looked perfect together. Vivian and Walter agreed. Vivian was especially pleased to see the young woman. But James was not. He wore a closed expression throughout the meal and he barely spoke two words to her. Clearly, he was not of the same mind as the rest of us; his displeasure was not hard to miss.

Poor Lynette had been mortified to have been rejected out of hand by a handsome young man she considered her equal. Her conversation became stilted and then nonexistent. She excused herself as soon as she could without appearing rude.

She left Oaksberth in a huff. I'm certain she will convey the afternoon's happenings to her mother. I fear our connections with the Halls will not survive this—and rightly so. I'd be highly offended were it my daughter in her place.

I left the house disappointed by my failure to help him. I was so sure Lynette would be the one. She was beautiful and bright, and clinically speaking...sexy. Why hadn't James warmed to her?

"Why did you invite her here?"

"Oh!" He startled me, I'd no idea he followed me into the gardens. "What?"

"The Hall girl—why'd you invite her to lunch?"

"Well, I-I thought..." How can I put this delicately? "James she's a very lovely girl and I thought you'd enjoy—"

"Fucking her?" He supplied, offhandedly.

"James," I covered my mouth in shock. He's never spoken to me in such an offensive manner before. "Don't say such vulgar—"

He towered over me, his cobalt eyes blazing down into mine. "You'll be happy to know that I already have."

"What do you mean?" I asked, at a loss. "You've already what?

"Fucked her." He said bluntly.

I blanched. "B-But...I-I don't—I don't understand—" I stammered.

"Leave off the matchmaking, Margret. I can find my own woman." he said quietly, his eyes caressing my face. Then he leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. "I love you, you know that don't you?"

"I-I, yes, of course I do, darling..." I could hardly speak for the loud thumping in my ears. The intensity in his eyes made me very uneasy; my instincts urged me to flee. "I-I need to make a call. I'll see you at dinner..."

I scurried away from him, but I felt his eyes on me until I disappeared into the house. I released a pent up breath as I entered the kitchen, relieved to be out of his sight. I didn't recognize him these days. He was becoming foreign to me. And that frightened me because I loved and needed him. I wanted my James back.

I quit my short career as matchmaker. I do regret my impulsiveness, and promised myself to never venture in that direction again. It had been an embarrassing experience for everyone involved.

Oahu, Hawaii, November 12, 1968

I don't know how to begin. I can barely see to write for the tears in my eyes, but I need to record this horrible tragic event. I never want to forget this day—the day our lives were torn apart.

A sliver of uneasiness moved through me the moment they told me they were going away on vacation. I don't know why, they'd gone off together before. Walter needs to express his love for his sister freely at times, so he whisks her away to some distant exotic place for a month.

But this time, something was off. They were too cheerful. I thought I detected hint of sadness in them as well. But I shrugged it off as foolishness on my part because I knew they were always happiest when they were alone together.

A stranger, calling from thousands of miles away, informed me of our tragedy. Walter and Vivian were in a boating accident in Hawaii. We're told they're dead, but how can we know for sure without their bodies. We, the children and I, flew to Kona, Hawaii to take their bodies back home with us. But after two weeks of searching, the Hawaiian authorities had no luck in recovering their remains. They're dead and are forever lost at sea. And I leave the island feeling as if I've left things undone.

Oaksberth, February, 1969

I try to be normal for them, but it is hard. I dream of him late at night. I dream of the time when I believed I'd have his love forever. And I cry, I cry in my sleep, I cry all alone for a love that could have been glorious, but never was.

I also grieved for Vivian. I had grown to love her as a sister these many years, and I will miss her terribly. She may have denied me Walter, but she gave me three amazing souls to love. I'll always love her for that. I'd forgiven them both long ago for the wrong done to me. When I gave up my hopes for Walter's love, I let go of the resentment. They always treated me with kindness and respect, and were supremely generous with all they owned. How could I hate them?

Everything's different now. My children wear their sadness around them like a heavy cloak. I know I have to allow the natural progression of grief to play out, but it is proving to be very difficult. I need to see them laughing and fighting and arguing like they used to. I desperately want them to be happy again.

Ephraim and Violet have one another to talk to as they are closer in age, but I am worried about James. He's become so intense and moody and uncommunicative of late. I know his is becoming a man, and I take into account the normal rebelliousness of a young man his age, but there's something more going on. He is deeply troubled by something, and I can't get him to tell me what it is.

"I'll be late today, mom," Ephraim said, on his way out the door, "Coach wants us for practice after school."

"Oh, okay, darling... " I said to the air, Ephraim was never one to linger once he's said his piece. I was very happy he decided to go back to practice, it's the first sign of normalcy I've had from him since his father died. I looked at Violet as she made to follow her brother out the door. "Vi, honey, Mrs. Selman called; she's hopes you'll come to your piano lessons this afternoon."

"I am, mom," she said, kissing my cheek, "Ephraim and me... we're sorry we've been so gloomy. We'll do better, mom, I promise."

"I understand..." I hugged her, "I love you, honey...have a good day."

"I will, bye mom."

I watched her lope out of the house with optimism. She and Ephraim are ready to begin healing. I only hoped James felt the same way.

He hadn't come down for breakfast, which has become his way these days. I didn't push him to return to college, but I think I will have to now. I want him to live again, to enjoy living again.

I trudged upstairs to his room. His door was closed, and he was playing his music super loud. "James," I called, tapping rapidly on the door. "James, please, let me in...I want to talk to you." The music stopped and the door opened. I pushed it open all the way and walked in. He was back on his bed, staring at me with unfathomable eyes. "James, what is it? What's wrong?"

He shrugged his massive shoulders, and then looked up at the ceiling.

I sat on the side of his bed and tentatively reached for his hand. He moved it out of my reach. I ignored the stab of pain I felt by his rejection. "Please, James, I-I want to help. I miss you. Ephraim and Violet miss you, too. Won't you tell me what's wrong? I'll try my best to fix it, I promise."

He glared at me then, his face was hard and unyielding, "Nothing's wrong, Margret. Go away."

I shivered, I didn't know this James—this hard, inscrutable James. "But there is... I-I know you, James; you're not like this... Something is bothering you."

All of a sudden, he lurched forward, his face barely an inch from mine. I gasped, pulling my head back. "J-James, what—what--?" My heart pounded in my ears.

"If I were to tell you all that bothered me, Margret, I'd end up fu—" he clammed up, breathing harshly as his gleaming eyes ran over my face, darkening to a deep blue when they finally rested on my lips.

Worried, I reached for his hand again. "Darling..."

He balled his fist and snatched it away, and leaned back against the headboard. "I'm fine." He said, through his teeth. "Go away, Margret."

I was hurt. I honestly didn't understand him. "Okay, I'll go," I sighed, unhappily, "But, I have something to say first." I waited for him to show some interest in what I had to say but he'd closed his eyes.

I stood up and faced him determinedly. "I want you to go back to school."

His jaw tightened, "I plan on doing just that, Margret. I'm leaving in the morning."

"The morning...? So soon?" I'd expected an argument of some sort.

"Yes." He clipped.

"B-But, I thought we'd have some time to-to—"

He vaulted off the bed so fast that I stumbled back in alarm. His towered over me, "You can't have it both ways, Margret, either I go..." He said softly, his pupils dilating as he stared at my lips, "or I stay..."

I licked them nervously; he hissed out a breath, grabbed me and pulled me into his body. Fear rose up within me, my belly was full of knots. I couldn't ignore the pulsing hardness of his penis resting against my quivering stomach. And his head was lowering...lowering... I wrenched out of his hold, quickly putting some distance between us.

"Well, well, that's fine, James...I-I'll just go..."

"Then go! Go before I—" He clamped his mouth shut, and watched me with dark eyes as I backed into the door, banging my shoulder against the solid wood in my haste. James made a move towards me. "Margret—"

My heart skipped a beat when he made that step. "I-I'm okay," I assured him quickly, escaping through the door. I hurried from his room on unsteady legs, stumbling down the long hallway to seek refuge in mine. I closed the door firmly behind me and slid down to the floor, resting my back against it. I drew in deep breaths to calm my racing heart. My hands shook badly, I clasped them against my chest.

I can't believe it. I've just run away from my son in fright. The son I've known all his life. But he's so enormous now, so physically intimidating and I was afraid. James is very angry with me for some reason, but he won't tell me why. Maybe some time away will cool him down enough to get things in perspective. When he comes home for the summer he'll tell me what I've done. At least I hope he will because I think I'd die if I lost his love.

New York City, April 1971

Once Violet graduated from high school, I closed up that big empty house up and moved us all to Walter's penthouse in the city. It is a short respite because the penthouse will soon be empty of my children as well.

Violet will be joining Ephraim at Princeton this fall so there's no need for me to remain in that big house all alone. Besides, Oaksberth belongs to James as does his father's business. But James didn't want it; he chose to sell to a big soap company in Texas. I'm not sure what he'll he do with the house.

I haven't seen James in since that day, two years ago. He sends the occasional postcard, and short letters to his siblings but that's all. I've failed him in some way, though I don't know how, and I've this pain in my heart that won't go away for missing him.

Ephraim and Violet are alive and vibrant again. I smile when I hear their laughter reverberating around the apartment. It's so very uplifting to see them happy again.

They adore it here; often going to the theaters, Broadway plays or taking long walks through the park. I enjoy watching Violet dupe Ephraim into going to the shops with her. Oh, he whines and complains, but he always goes along with whatever she asks of him.

They are so beautiful, my babies. Violet is the tall striking brunette her mother was, and Ephraim—while not an exact replica James turned out to be—is just as handsome as his father was. I'm proud to be their mother.

*********

I know they're grown, but old habits are hard to break. I stayed up late to listen for their return. Ephraim and Violet went to a party given by one of his college friends. I was worried Violet, who's now eighteen, would exercise her freedom by drinking alcohol. I know Ephraim won't allow her to get out of hand, but I was worried all the same.

Violet's girlish giggles and Ephraim's loud "shhhhh" signaled their, not so quiet, return. I smiled at their antics. It sounds as if they had fun at the party. With a sigh, I set my book aside and clicked off the lamp. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face, amused by Violet's inability to stifle her giggles.

I don't know what caused me awaken, but I suddenly felt a sense of urgency to check on the kids. I leaped from my bed and hurried down the hallway leading to their rooms. I stopped to listen, I was sure no one broke in, this is a very secure building, but something was urging me on.

I heard a thump and a loud moan coming from the direction of Ephraim's bedroom. I hurried the rest of the way there, and would have thrown the door open and rushed in but, the door was partially open, and inside was my Violet and my Ephraim repeating history.

I was frozen on the spot. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I was horror-struck. I am, once again, forced to be voyeur. And this time, it is to the children of my splintering heart.

I watched, unblinking, as their beautiful naked bodies writhed on the bed, arms and legs moving restlessly about each other. Harsh breaths escaped me as I watched Ephraim kiss sister's lips. I blinked rapidly as he swallowed his sister's taut peaks, sucking one and then the other. Tears rolled down my cold cheeks as my beloved Ephraim, plunged into his sister with great force, his lust for her blaringly evident by the sheer size of his dripping staff. I choked on a sob as my sweet Violet's long slim legs wrapped around her brother's hips, meeting his demanding thrusts with ravenous abandon. And I sank weakly to the floor as their muffled cries of ecstasy burned my ears.

And then, they began again. I couldn't bear to watch them anymore. I noiselessly scooted away from the door and leaned against the wall. I sat there until their sighs and cries ceased and they closed their eyes to rest.

Wearily, I rose to my feet and peered into the room. I felt as if I were back at Oaksberth spying on Walter and Vivian again. But, this was not them, these were my children. How could I have missed this? I know the signs, I know the looks—the secret touches. I should've seen this coming, I should have stopped it.

I left the door as it was, and walked slowly back to my room. I am beaten down by my failures as a parent. I am blind and stupid and lax in my duties, and I deserve to suffer for it.

I now understand why they pressed to share an apartment in Princeton. I'd believed Violet's story about missing her dorm assignment, but I know now she'd never had any intention of being separated from her brother again. She'd missed him terribly those two years he was away at college, now they can be together, always.