The Locket

Elizabeth eluded Karl and ran to the railing of the second floor, looking down at the grand foyer. She shouted and waved her hand. "Auntie Catherine," she said in a gleeful voice. Catherine looked up and saw a radiant Elizabeth, more beautiful than ever, the light catching the diamonds sparkling on the face of the locket. Blanche looked up as well. She scowled, upset that Elizabeth had exhibited poor manners in her house and even more so in seeing Elizabeth give Catherine a look overflowing with love for her aunt. Mavis ran out of the children's bedroom to retrieve her. "Madame hasn't called for you yet," she said as she pulled Elizabeth by the wrist back into her room to finish getting dressed and ready for the party.

After a somewhat stilted conversation between the two sisters, Blanche left Catherine in the drawing room, sipping champagne, so she could attend to the final details of the lunch service. As Blanche drew the heavy oak doors shut memories flooded back into Catherine's mind. She remembered her 16^th birthday party in this house. She begged her mother for a dress reflecting the latest style from Paris. She invited all of her friends, but also invited Evelyn Mikos, a classmate of Greek descent who attended her high school.

She didn't know Evelyn well, but was somehow drawn to her. Evelyn was brilliant, clearly the smartest person in the class. She also had a regal air about her, the way she carried herself and the way she dressed. She had the most beautiful thick wavy maple brown hair, as well as striking green-hazel eyes, a long, slender neck and a lean, supple body. Catherine wanted to know her better. What better way than in a group setting with all of her friends?

The party was a great success. There were parlor games, live entertainment and delicious food all meticulously prepared by Mavis. Catherine did indeed get to know Evelyn better, the two of them discussing school, details of their families (Evelyn's father was a well-known women's tailor and her mother tended their three children, Evelyn being the youngest) and the latest fashions. Giddy with the fun they were having, Catherine and Evelyn found themselves in the drawing room by themselves, the rest of the guests outside in the back yard watching a dog and pony show.

In contrast to the howls of laughter outside in response to the show, the drawing room had an eerie quiet that enveloped the two young women. Catherine let Evelyn cradle the locket in her hand. Evelyn had never handled a piece of jewelry so fine and was mesmerized by the way the small gemstones caught and reflected the sunlight that was filtering into the room. She moved her hand back and forth and watched the facets twinkle with the motion. Evelyn's closeness, her hand inches away from Catherine's breast, and the sweet, cloying fragrance of her perfume, made Catherine's head swoon with a swirl of new emotions. Catherine had a sudden and irresistible impulse to kiss her new friend and did so, catching Evelyn by surprise at this audacious gesture of friendship. But Evelyn was attracted to Catherine, and returned the kiss in kind, the two of them exploring their sexual curiosity and sating their untapped reservoir of passion.

Catherine was stunned to realize that she had impulses towards women and that the innocent kiss inflamed feelings of lust within her. Evelyn was likewise surprised at the heat generated by the two of them, but her strict orthodox upbringing caused her to break away from Catherine and run out of the drawing room, declaring that she wasn't feeling well. Catherine knew the true reason for Evelyn's sudden departure, and was left with epiphany that she wanted something that could never come to pass.

As the remembrance of the stolen kiss replayed in the very room in which it took place some twenty years ago, the sliding doors opened and Blanche walked back in, not displaying her usual cheery façade.

"Blanche, I was remembering ..." And before Catherine could utter another word, her sister interrupted, eager to spill out the words that had been festering in her mind as she thought of her own sister trying to steal her daughter.

"The locket ... it's too much. Elizabeth wears it every day. I'm glad that she likes it. But she often will open the locket and look at your face. A look of love that she doesn't give to me. I ... I ... I need you to ask Elizabeth for the locket back." Blanche was relieved she could put down the heavy burden she had been carrying since the last time her sister visited. She knew her words were hurtful but she couldn't live with thought that somehow the locket had created an unbreakable bond between her daughter and her sister.

Catherine was noticeably taken aback. She had expected a joyful children's party and had now been accused by her sister of trying to steal her daughter. It was an affront she was not willing to bear. She stood up out of the chair. Her sudden movement disturbed her glass of champagne, spilling the contents onto the small table and then streaming onto and puddling on the heavy oriental carpet. Neither woman looked away from each other. Catherine's face reddened. She spoke with a firmness she never before exhibited to her sister. "I will do nothing of the sort. The locket was mine to give to her. I gave it to her with my love. It's hers to do with as she pleases."

Blanche was somehow surprised by Catherine's response. She had talked herself into thinking that Catherine would readily agree to her request. Of course her judgment was badly clouded by her jealousy. She struggled to find any words.

Catherine, sensing her sister's blind jealousy, started to walk out of the drawing room and into the grand foyer. She turned her head and spit out sarcastically, "Maybe you can convince her to giving it back to me." She stormed past a startled Karl and bolted through the front door. She walked without purpose, but not turning her back, as she thought to herself that this day might be the last time she saw her childhood home, her sister, or her beloved Elizabeth.

Chapter Three

Kenneth and Catherine

Catherine was heartbroken on the day that was supposed to be a celebration of Penelope's birthday. Instead, it was the day that Catherine's world fell apart. She lived only fifteen blocks from her sister, but that distance may have well have been fifteen thousand miles. There was no further communication between Catherine and Blanche. They both knew that this was a wound that would never heal.

When Catherine returned to her home the day of the party, her husband Kenneth had arrived home early from his job as the Chief Loan Officer of the Bank of New York. Everyone knew that Kenneth would someday replace his father as President of the bank, as Kenneth had already proved himself to be a worthy successor. He had just finished a meeting with a client on their side of town and decided to come home early to surprise his wife.

Of course he forgot that she told him that she would be at Penelope's birthday party. He came home to an empty house, and after calls to his wife echoed in the two story brownstone, he retired to the study to pour himself a scotch. As he was settling into his favorite leather chair he heard the front door open and then slam shut with enough force to rattle the windows. He put his scotch down, almost spilling it, as he ran into the hallway, half expecting to see his wife gravely wounded. Instead he saw his wife, standing just inside the door and weeping.

Kenneth wasn't trained for this situation. In polite society women were expected to be strong for their husbands. He had never seen Catherine so distraught, and assumed that either her father or her mother had died. He ran to her, clutching her in his arms. Although the two were infrequently intimate, he felt an urgency when he held her, as if she was drowning and he was keeping her afloat. Catherine was drowning. She was drowning in her own grief. She thought she knew her sister. She had never seen Blanche waver from her steady personality, a tree that didn't bend in a stiff breeze. Yet, the bile her sister had spewed was hateful words that were now indelibly burned into Catherine's memory. She couldn't believe that Blanche could be capable of such jealousy ... of such contempt. And her sweet Elizabeth. Would she ever again be able to hold her niece in her arms and look at and watch perfection? These thoughts wrenched every tear Catherine was capable of giving. Kenneth held her as she sobbed.

Kenneth wanted to ask, but discretion called for him to wait for Catherine to speak the first words. Her crying abated and she took her head off her husband's shoulders. Kenneth could see from her reddened eyes and her tear stained cheeks that this crying had started much earlier.

Still somewhat gasping for breath, Catherine said in a hushed tone. "I'll never see them again."

Kenneth, puzzled at his wife's remark, asked, "See who? See who, my love?"

"Elizabeth and Blanche."

Kenneth almost lost his balance as he heard those names. He immediately assumed that they had somehow perished in some terrible accident. He regained his composure to say, "How? How did they die?"

Ordinarily Catherine would have laughed at the misunderstanding. But to her, they had died if she was never to see them again. She looked at her husband with a blank stare. "They're not dead."

Kenneth was the epitome of a composed banker, a man who would be running the largest bank in New York. He was flummoxed. What could cause her otherwise stoic wife to cry uncontrollably? He was unsure what to say next in fear that he would set off another crying jag. Finally Catherine explained.

"Blanche thinks I'm trying to steal her daughter."

Now Kenneth was truly lost at sea. Why would her sister think such a thing? He had seen nothing but mutual love and admiration between Blanche and Catherine. "Why?" he asked.

His wife started to sniffle as she began to explain. "I gave Elizabeth the locket I've worn since I was 16."

"Yes," interjected Kenneth, who had long ago noticed the locket was missing from its usual resting place but never asked why. "You wore it every day that I've known you until a few months ago."

"I gave it to Elizabeth on her 16^th birthday." There was silence as Catherine found it hard to mouth the words that would follow.

"And?" prodded Kenneth, not being able to stand the suspense.

"Blanche thought it was too dear a present and wanted me to ask Elizabeth to give it back to me."

This entire drama was lost on Kenneth. How could the gift of a locket end a relationship between two sisters? "I don't understand. It was just a locket ..."

Catherine started to cry again. She ran up the stairs. "You'll never understand," she said.

Kenneth knew he would never understand. Catherine made that much clear to him many times before when she was upset and he was unable to provide the comfort she needed. He went back to his study to retrieve his scotch, now needing it more than ever. He sat in his chair, smelling the rich leather and the peaty scotch, and thought about what he was going to do.

Catherine always seemed cold and distant to him. Their two families had practically forced them together, both being wealthy and well connected, and initially Kenneth was dazzled by Catherine's beauty, thinking that she would eventually warm up to him. But that day never came. The two of them were rarely intimate, and it always seemed as if Catherine, as she lay impassively in the bed as Kenneth mounted her, was discharging her duties as his wife while taking no pleasure in the act. With Catherine's hectic travel schedule to Washington, D.C., and her disinterest in sex, Kenneth may as well have still been a bachelor.

But men like Kenneth did not remain idly by as their wives worked through their sexual frigidity (or so he thought of Catherine). They hunt and they find an outlet for their passions. Kenneth did not have to look far. His assistant, a 25 year old woman named Jane Birch, a woman of common birth but uncommon attractiveness, was too convenient and too willing for such a handsome, wealthy and powerful man. They had carried on an illicit affair for the past year and Kenneth had harbored thoughts, as scandalous as they may have been, of divorcing Catherine and marrying Jane. Catherine's agitated emotional state made any thought of confessing his sin unthinkable. Kenneth poured himself another healthy draw of scotch, gently rubbing the smooth glass of his snifter, as if an answer might magically appear.

The news of the war was everywhere. Months ago Kenneth felt the strong pull of patriotism that allowed him to mouth the words that he wanted to join the British Army instead of standing idly by as the United States wrung its hands over joining the war. But now, given his untenable position between Catherine and Jane, he wanted nothing more than to run to another continent as soon as possible. He volunteered to join the British Army the next day.

Chapter Four

Kenneth

The reality of the war hit Kenneth as he stood on the deck of a large ocean liner, leaning over the railing and watching as the crew was casting off the lines from its berth in New York harbor. It seemed to him as if half of the ship was filled with young men such as him steaming over to a war that they knew only from newspaper accounts. He looked down at the dock, seeing the upturned faces of Catherine and his relatives and friends as they waved goodbye. He sensed he might never see them again, but shook off that feeling and waved back.

Catherine could see Kenneth, and could barely manage a smile. She also felt the same sensations as Kenneth, but could not put them in the back of her mind. She took no comfort in the fact that Kenneth promised to try to find a posting behind the front lines. They both knew he had little control over his fate.

Kenneth's father and mother were there on the dock as well, but had arrived late. Watching from the rear of the dock, their high aspirations for their one and only son felt dashed as they saw the mooring ropes cast off and the ship guided out of the port under the steam of a tugboat. He was the prize of the family, tall, handsome, married to a beautiful woman from a fine New York family and groomed to be the next head of the Bank of New York. They had no inkling that Kenneth and Catherine had a marriage in name only and that their son was having an illicit affair with his assistant. They only knew that their "perfect" son was off to a war where he was likely to suffer a senseless death in a faraway war that had no meaning to them.

Kenneth watched as the faces of his past became tiny specks in the distance. As the ship exited New York harbor he went below to find his berth. He had heard news of the many ships that German U-boats had sunk before making it to England, and realized that he shouldn't worry about it as he had already surrendered control over his life. On the voyage over he was able to see the occasional debris from another submarine kill, but his ship arrived safe and sound at Liverpool.

Kenneth had to find his own way to his basic training facility in Leeds. He had only been to England a few times on holiday and had never been to Leeds. He was exhausted from the long ocean passage, but had to find a train that would take him on a three hour trip to camp. He was walking down the street, marveling at the activity of a country at war. The sidewalks were flooded with young men, many of whom would end up at the same camp as Kenneth. There were delivery trucks lined up in the streets and people hurrying to their jobs. He couldn't help but feel a strong sense of purpose to all of the activity.

Kenneth found his train, and on it most of the men that he would live with, and potentially die with. The passenger cars were packed with civilians that were about to be soldiers and also men already in uniform. There was a giddiness in the car among men that never smelled the stench of real war. Kenneth got caught up in the boastful atmosphere as the train sped off into the night.

Kenneth had no idea what to expect in basic training in a country he barely knew. He was placed in the Fourth Infantry Division and assigned to the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. Fortunately, being tall and in prime physical shape, he placed near the top of his class in basic training and excelled at the use of the Vickers machine gun. He also discovered, to his surprise, that he was welcomed into his unit even though he was a "Yank," and through the travails of a harsh training regimen, bonded with his mates.

One of his mates, a Lewis Farthingham of Lancaster, was assigned to Kenneth's machine gun team, and the hours spent together in the field led to late night discussions about their personal lives. Lewis was a tall, angular man with sharp features and a toothy smile. He was from a farm in the countryside, and his lack of airs made him easy to talk to. Kenneth shared the frustrations of his marriage and but didn't mention his affair with Jane. He pulled out a creased photograph of Catherine to show Lewis. Lewis encouraged Kenneth to write to Catherine to confront their issues rather than sweep them under the rug. Catherine wrote back, sharing that her lack of warmth was not of Kenneth's making, but rather her general malaise when it came to relationships. What was unsaid in Catherine's letter was her ambivalence towards men.

Kenneth was heartened to know it wasn't anything he had done to create the distance between him and his wife, but wasn't sure how to bridge the gap. He told himself he wasn't serious with Jane, her being ten years his junior, and reasoned to himself that he could extricate himself from his relationship with her if he could figure out how to repair his relationship with Catherine. To her credit, the empathy conveyed in her letters helped Kenneth cope with being away from home.

The inevitable call to Kenneth's unit came. The British were gearing up for yet another offensive and shipped out portions of his regiment to Amiens, there to assemble with hundreds of thousands of other Allied troops to be deployed in the Champagne region of France.

Kenneth left the comfort of his temporary quarters in Amiens for a packed train of soldiers. The optimism and boastfulness at training camp gave way to dead silence as the train sped down the tracks to the front. Everyone on board knew that many of them would not return. There had been too many first person sightings of the horribly wounded being transported home and too many soldiers taking a rest from the front with first-hand accounts of the carnage in the battlefield.

Over a half a million men were positioned on both sides as the Champagne region of France was transformed from a sedate grape growing region to a killing field. Kenneth's company was stationed near Delville Wood, one of the key areas for the one of the first waves of assault. History would record this Allied offensive as one of the bloodiest of the war. Kenneth huddled with his mates behind wood reinforced earth works, apprehensively watching their sergeant for orders.

The whistle blew, signaling the men to go "over the top" and towards the distant German trench works. Ten thousand men, in a coordinated attack after an all-night artillery barrage, advanced at the same time. Kenneth's heart was pounding in his throat as he heard the shrill sound of the whistle. As he climbed the wooden ladder he saw that two men had already been felled by enemy shell fire, falling backwards on top of their mates. The rational part of him told him that he should be going backwards, not forwards, as he took his first steps towards enemy lines and away from the relative safety of his trench.