“Thank you," Jane said weakly.
Babs set her fork on her plate, placed her elbows on the table, and crossed her hands elegantly. "I grew up in privileged circumstances and was a 'good girl.' My parents were fine, if rather snobbish, shallow people, and I was their only daughter. I adored them and did all I could to please them. Bobby McDonald was the only son of their closest friends, and it was assumed we would marry eventually. I was content with the idea. He was bright, charming, good-looking. I convinced myself I was in love with him, al‑ though I had no idea what love meant. It was merely girlish romanticism.
“When the war started, I was only nineteen. Too young to marry under normal circumstances, but the war wasn't normal. And while nobody ever admitted it openly, Bobby's parents pushed for the marriage to take place before he left. I think their pride in their name and heritage was so great that they feared it would die with him, should he not survive. Perhaps they were in the grip of parental premonition and hoped that I would conceive a grandson.
“A big society wedding was planned, with a leisurely honeymoon in California, but Bobby's orders were changed and we had only two days to stage the thing. I wanted the big wedding, the bridesmaids, the big white dress and everything. It was the dream of every girl of my class in those days, but I was pressured to go along with the slapdash alternative. I was such a 'good girl,' and there was an element of romance at that time in hasty marriages.”
She stopped speaking as the waiter approached and poured everyone fresh coffee. When he'd gone, she continued. "I discovered on my wedding night that there was a truly savage side to this handsome, charming boy I had married. I don't mean fumbling, insensitive over eagerness. I mean true viciousness. I won't bore you with the details, but if there is such a thing as a pornographic horror novel, I lived it. For two days, that seemed like an eternity in hell. And then he left to go be a hero. I moved back in with my parents. I worked as a volunteer at a hospital. And I prayed every night that the next day would bring the telegram saying he was dead.
“But the telegram didn't come. A year went by. A year in which I relived those two days over and over and over and grew more terrified—"
“Why didn't you tell your parents?" Shelley asked quietly. "Surely they'd have wanted to save you. The marriage might have been annulled—”
Babs shook her head. "Nice girls didn't talk to anyone about sex in those days, especially not their parents. And they wouldn't have believed me even if I could have gotten the words out. Of course, the words weren't in my vocabulary then. Besides, he'd had the cunning not to leave marks any place that I'd dream of showing anyone. None of us had ever seen him be anything but polite and cheerful — before. No. They'd have thought I'd gone mad. And it would have destroyed a lifelong friendship between them and Bobby's parents. Most of all, I was still a good girl.
“Anyway, Bobby was wounded very slightly and, while recovering in a field hospital, got a severe ear infection. His father pulled all sorts of strings and got him transferred home to the States for treatment. His train arrived at five o'clock in the afternoon. Our whole social set turned out to meet the returning hero, and there was a dinner and reception planned for him at the country club. I spent the evening in the bathroom, being sick. He spent his time drinking.
His parents wanted us to stay at their house, but my parents, with the best intentions in the world, had rented a hotel suite for us so we could be alone together, which was the most horrifying thought in the world to me. I was dizzy with fear.
“I'd driven my car to the club, and since I was sober, I drove us to the hotel. It was December. Cold and icy. I can still remember the faint burned-sugar smell my car heater made. Sometimes I catch a whiff of an odor like that and it still makes me sick.”
Jane was feeling sick herself, just listening and imagining the terror that the innocent young Babs must have felt. But Babs was speaking calmly now, far more calmly than Jane could have.
“We left the country club and I was trying to concentrate on my driving," Babs went on. "The road was treacherous. And as we reached a spot where there had been many winter accidents due to a sharp curve and a steep embankment, Bobby reached over and yanked my skirt up and plunged his hand into my crotch. I had a second of frigid terror, and then a stunning realization. This was going to be the rest of my life. And I couldn't live such a life. I can't tell you how liberating it was. I was suddenly calm, rational, and happier than I'd ever been. I knew how to get out of the nightmare and it was easy. I'd die. It was so simple! And I'd take him with me so he couldn't ruin anyone else's life when I was gone. It was the only truly spiritual moment of my life. I thought God had set it up forme — the cold, the icy road, the sharp corner, the embankment. It was all so perfect that it had to be a Divine Order. So I wrenched the wheel sharply to the left. And killed Bobby McDonald.”
She paused and took a sip of coffee. "But not myself," she added. "Obviously. When I recovered, I still felt I had done God's work. I believe it to this day. And the months I was in the hospital gave me time to realize other things, too. That I could never go back to being anybody's good girl. That my body and my mind were in my own sole care and would remain so. I would never let another man have control of either. I would create my own life the way I wanted it to be.”
Jane discovered she'd been holding her breath for quite a long time.
Shelley started to speak, but for once had no words.
Babs put out both her hands and Jane and Shelley each took one. Babs squeezed them firmly, then let go. "My dears, this is harder on you than me. I'm sorry I upset you, but I thought you should know. And maybe, too, I just needed to tell it one more time. Selfish of me, but I'm of an age to feel entitled to a little selfishness. To finish the story, I couldn't go back to my parents' house and wasn't well enough to live alone for several months, so my dear friend Daisy took me in and cared for me. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Although she had no interest in an academic life, she was the one with the perception to realize it would suit me. She gave me college catalogs, and helped me find my own apartment when I was well enough. It hurt my parents, I know, that I turned to a friend instead of them, but that was how it had to be.”
She smiled radiantly at her companions and signaled the waiter. "I believe we each need a new cup of coffee, if you wouldn't mind," she told him.
“I wonder if you're aware that Sharlene read an old newspaper article about your accident and has a very different interpretation of it," Shelley said in voice that trembled slightly.
“Dear Sharlene. I'm sure her story is very pretty and romantic," Babs said with a fond smile. "She's a pretty person all the way through. I've seldom known anyone with so much intelligence and such pure goodness. It's a rare combination. As for Derek—”
The waiter came back with clean cups and a steaming carafe. When he'd cleared away the used cups, Shelley asked, "How would Derek have known anything about this?"
“I suppose Whitney Abbot might have mentioned it and Derek did a little digging. Derek might have been taking a shot in the dark, or he might have heard the alternative version."
“Alternative version?" Jane repeated.
“Yes. You see, there was a bit of scandal that followed the 'accident.' Apparently someone started a rumor — or it might have had an element of truth, I didn't care which — that Bobby had fallen in love with one of the Army nurses who treated him in England. According to the gossip mill, he'd told me that he was going to divorce me and marry her. This was supposedly the reason I'd been sick all evening, you see? And because I couldn't live without him, I'd tried to kill us both. There were no skid marks on the road and that added fuel to the rumor. Daisy told me about it and we had a good, if rather cynical, laugh out of it."