Balzac noted, “Behind every great fortune there lies a crime.” This insight was a cornerstone of Spicer’s self-respect. The councilman lived by bribes, lies, and prostitutions; yet he felt morally equal to others of the ruling class--Wentworths included. His experience-bred view of life, unmitigated by reflection or study, assured this creature of city politics that, despite their patina of honor, even paragons like Todd or Thaddeus would in the right circumstances readily stoop to misdeeds and injustices at least as tawdry as his own. This thought was uppermost in the small man’s mind as he bristled over his mistreatment at the hands of Thurston and Helen Wentworth. But despite his temporary resentment of Todd’s family, he checked his bitterness before it went too far; after all, only a Wentworth could elevate Irma.
Twilight came. Mauve shadows covered the small tiled courtyard nestled behind Spicer's house. Birdsong filled the salty air; a longhaired gray cat lazed on a decorative boulder. Packed around the high cerulean walls, a cactus garden thrived.
Sitting in a light-blue shell-shaped metal chair, Todd Wentworth stared down at a waterless fountain. His conscience attacked him like a mockingbird harassing a house cat. He withstood his inner self’s assault, for his will to find love was stronger than his sense of shame. He was as guarded as Thurston was bold; by the time Todd took action, his commitment was complete and there was no turning back. To arrange a meeting with a woman one has admired from afar is a far-fetched thing to do, even more so in the middle of a war. Todd had followed his romantic plan warily, but he had not anticipated the expansiveness of his guilt. Desire had led him to underestimate the Harpies of his psyche. She has no choice, he thought. Self-interest compels her assent. She probably fears for her life. After such austere confinement, how could she expect decency from a Wentworth? I’ll make it clear at the beginning that all the choices are hers. How will I put her at ease? Can any words do that? Can I radiate my good intentions? I want her trust so badly.
Councilman Spicer tumbled out of the house. Todd looked up, did not stir. Emotional exhaustion had taken its toll; his young skin sagged and his color was down.
"Don’t worry," said Spicer, "everything is fine." He read the young man’s perplexity and found his own surface empathy. He gave Todd his most engaging smile. Spicer asked himself, how could he have compared the deep-spirited Todd to his lunatic brother? Todd’s eyes were honest, even sensitive. Spicer gently reprimanded himself for meanly judging the rich young man.
"You look terrible," Todd observed.
Spicer waved him off. “So do you. Actually, I’m fine."
Todd could see that this was clearly not so. Now he sat up straight, placing his palms on his thighs. He said rigidly, "I’ve asked too much of you--"
"Don’t be silly," said Spicer. "The more I can do, the happier I am.” Todd was dubious. The councilman took Todd's arm and urged him to relax. "This is good for me!” He paused and gazed at the suffering face of the proud man. His own face assumed a camouflage of total earnestness. He took a dramatic, deep breath, hung his head, and said, “I have not lived well. No, do not deny it. Of course, I am proud of my public accomplishments: I have slavishly served San Francisco and its people. No one can question that. But, in my private life, I have thought only of myself.” He paused and summoned a face of shame. “I have hurt women with my aloofness. I have not procreated, and that is our purpose on earth--even more so in these deadly times. We must make babies for our race to survive! I have to face facts: I’ve always tried to be a moral person, yet I have not done the things I should." Spicer saw that Todd, who sat ramrod straight, was looking blankly at him, either not understanding the point or perhaps not even listening.
“You see,” he continued, touching Todd’s arm in an attempt to add warmth to his delivery, “I love my niece more than anyone in the world . . . I don’t mean that I love her more than you do, but more than I love anyone else. It cuts my heart to see her locked away, to see life passing her by. In helping her, I can feel some relief from the shame of my wasted life. You see, don’t you? You are allowing me to aid her! And! And, at the same time, I’m bringing some happiness to you. To serve you, your family, is to serve San Francisco. I’m too old to fight--”
“Soldiers your age perform support functions,” Todd mumbled.
“--yet I can do this thing. I owe you--we all owe you such a debt.”
Todd's mind was rushing. Spicer’s ramblings, his self-serving sentimentality, went hand-in-hand with Todd’s own abuse of power. We are two of a kind. I should grant her freedom, without strings, the moment she enters the garden. But even then, gratitude can coerce just as power can. He needed to stop thinking before his guilt unmanned him. Todd blurted, "I’m putting you in jeopardy; I’m cornering Irma Kout. My action degrades everyone."
"Todd . . . if I may call you Todd--"
"This is no good!" Todd cried.
Spicer folded his arms atop his chest and stamped his foot. "Ha! It’s too late! I’ve done everything!"
Todd continued, addressing his own thoughts. “This isn’t like me. I’m a generally honorable man.”
Spicer now eyed Todd as a man already in his debt. This plan had just cost him a scrape with Thurston Wentworth. That would not be undone even if the tryst were canceled. The councilman decided to take the hard line. "To back out now would insult that fine girl. Throw shit on her. . . compound her misery! Everything is set. At your request, and on your authority, I have been busy spending my own political capital with your brother, his wife, and that bulldog you have guarding poor Irma. I have put a lot on the line for you.” He saw that he now had Todd’s attention. He shrugged, smiled, and changed his tone of voice. “Irma has consented to a meeting, nothing more, nothing degrading. She looks forward to this."
"She said so?"
Spicer grew softer still; he put his hand to his heart, cooed confidentially, "She’s touched by your admiration, your romantic need. She knows what you risk."
Todd was puzzled. "There are no risks for me."
"As you will," said Spicer with an indifferent shrug. Abruptly, he turned toward the back door of his brown stucco house. As he walked away, he said over his shoulder, "Now it’s time. I’ll have her back here in a few moments." Then he turned and looked meaningfully at Todd. Todd looked away.
Spicer was proud to do well by these two fine young people. He would savor their smiles of gratitude. One last word of encouragement would do nicely. “You’ve said yourself that the chemistry seems to be there; now let’s construct the circumstance under which the chemistry will work.” And as he ambled out the garden door, his heart thumped with a twisted sort of primal good feeling.
The twilight darkened. The cat on the rock watched Todd carefully. Todd scratched his fingers on the ground, beckoning the feline. The cat jumped down from its perch, walked in a large circle around Todd, then cried sharply and streaked away.
Todd sought calm by breathing deeply. The meeting was now inevitable, no longer an idea, a wish or a plan, but an incontrovertible encounter that would occur within minutes. An hour ago, I couldn’t stop visualizing her; now I hardly remember what she looks like. It’s the dream I love. In a moment, the dream will be gone. I’ve never heard her voice: it could be piercing. She could be shallow or mean. He laughed at himself out loud. For a few seconds, his mind was clear and still. But undermining words rushed back into his head. She may just come to spit in my face. I think that’s what I'd do. But she needs to escape. I’m her first and only chance. She’s probably like the rest of her blood, like her father and her uncle: an opportunist! That’s why she’s giving herself to me. Consummation will corrupt us both when desire trumps our better selves.
Todd stood and walked about. He looked self-consciously at the various specimens of cactus. He wished they interested him. Night descended. Todd lit torches. Their yellow glow against the cacti threw fantastic shadows against the garden walls. Todd paced.
After nearly an hour, Spicer returned, with Athena-like Irma aglow on his fat little arm. She wore a thin brown dress that showed her off at her ample best. Her robust sensuality and fine features would have lured any man away from his dharma. A tee-shirt tan-line on her arms and neck brought comic relief to her otherwise boundless allure. Animal-like, her wide, cobalt eyes flew around the torchlit yard. The colors, the cactus, and the shadows made the long-imprisoned young woman gasp. She was overcome by the excitement of fresh scenery after seven months of confinement on the dreary mud flat. She brushed back a tear. Blood rushed to her head; she felt faint, yet she wanted to embrace the entire beauty of the moment. The walk over had been exciting: houses, streets, and pedestrians, but that had been in the dark. The rush of color came over her; she grew dizzy. She could not rest her eyes on one sight before another tugged away her attention.
Though for other reasons, Todd, like Irma, was flushed and trembling. Beside himself with adoration, he drank in her soft roundness, her glowing, silken skin. When her limpid, wonder-filled eyes came to rest on Todd, he turned away and shook. This is how she first saw the powerful Wentworth: abashed under her gaze. It was a tender moment of mystic loveliness. She saw that he was humble before her, and that this humility did not lessen his masculine dignity. The gentleness of it touched her deeply. Her own discombobulation ceased to agitate her. She focused closely on her suitor.
"Now don’t be shy, you two," Spicer said in a hushed voice. He took Irma’s arm and pulled her closer to her admirer. "Todd Wentworth, shake hands with Irma Kout, the bravest and most beautiful woman in San Francisco. Irma, meet Todd, one of the first men of California."
They shook hands stiffly, quickly, at arms’ length. They blushed terribly. But they maintained eye contact from that moment forth.
"Now, maybe I need to tell you about one another," the councilman said. He knew he had only so much influence on these potential lovers. He would spend that influence immediately, for he believed that the fate of all endeavors lay in their beginnings.
Irma saw that she was less nervous than Todd. She thought his awkwardness spoke well of him: He knew he was taking advantage of her situation, and it shamed him. This, Irma decided, already separated him from the sinister military men who would have seen her body as the booty of war, theirs for the taking. She would be gentle with him, as though it were she, not Todd, who was in command of the city. She smiled; her large white teeth shone the more brightly against her crimson lip coloring. "We’ve seen each other before." To patch over a pause (as well as to overcome own her trepidation), she added, “Not met, but we’ve seen each other.”
"More than once," Todd mumbled.
"At some dinner party." She was pleased that he remembered. "You didn’t say boo to anyone."
"And," said Todd, "at a concert. Last summer."
Irma did not remember this. But she nodded and said, "Exactly."
It pleased Spicer to see that his niece, wholly on her own, was willing to make headway, willing to come to know Todd. "Why don’t we all sit down and I’ll get some wine. Is red . . ?"
Irma put a long white finger to her full red lips. "Go away now, Uncle."
For a moment, they looked each-to-each. Todd appeared lost; his only thoughts were how beautiful Irma was; how when she smiled, light radiated from beneath her skin; how great was her poise. Irma thought, Even my uncle looks different outside of that cage. When we go inside, I'll have to see if Major Rollins looks different! Spicer thought, She'll play this to my liking. On that reflection, he said, “Yes, it seems like the right time. Do you want--"
Irma's long fingers waved him away.
He started to turn toward the house, then turned back to the young ones. "You are the two finest and rarest people I know. This is a good thing." Then he left.
With his exit, Irma's bravado suddenly left. She was alone with a man of war and he wanted her for sex. "Oh!" she said out loud. She smiled a small, frightened smile at Todd; he grinned stupidly back. Then, once again, in his deep-set eyes, she saw his scruples; she told her pounding heart that she had nothing to fear. Todd extended his hand toward a chair; she shook her head. I can’t stand still, she thought. I have to take it all in, every centimeter. I’m out, my God, I’m out. Irma walked around and around the courtyard, looking at everything, bending down to touch the cactus, brickwork, and wood. Todd, his heart pounding harder than when he was in battle, followed her with his eyes. He was thankful that she accepted the diversion of the immediate milieu, and he regained some measure of his own poise while she ignored him. For Todd, regaining poise required that he hold himself in an at ease position.
After some moments, she turned her eyes back to him, looking fearful and guilty. She asked, "I do have time to look, don't I?"
He nodded once. "You have time to do whatever you want. I'm grateful that you've come. You’ve fulfilled your end of the deal."
“The deal?” she said mockingly. She looked away from him. She repeated the small circle she had just completed, again looking closely at every living thing and any works of beauty, like the clean but empty red brick fountain. Several minutes passed. Todd sat, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette. "Did you know how awkward this would be?" she asked.
"I block out thoughts like that. Otherwise, I couldn’t have done such an outrageous thing."
She came toward him. She kept coming until their faces were fully lit by the torches and quite clear to one another. He looked up at her with curiosity, reverence, and lust. With a cocked eyebrow she said, "I feel like a slab of meat."
"And I feel like an exploiter. That I did expect. Neither of us has to take those roles."
For a moment, they looked at each other in silence. Each was pleased with what he or she saw, both in flesh and in spirit. More importantly, they comprehended the mutuality of the liking.
"Or, we could put an entirely different spin on it,” she said drolly. She turned back to the cactus and casually circled the empty fountain. As she walked, she spoke slowly. "You asked my eldest available male relative for permission to meet me. I have consented because you are . . . so eligible. My uncle then escorted me to this neutral meeting spot; and now he and my bodyguard wait inside while we, through mutual consent, become acquainted.” Pleased with her account, she smiled broadly. “I’d say it’s breathtakingly proper."
“Yes. You’ve constructed a Protestant logic! Let’s buy into it.”
For a while, they just looked at each other, eye-to-eye. They were comfortable, and they smiled as they gazed. After a moment, Todd spoke. "It looks-- you probably think-- I mean, you can’t afford to be honest. You can be, but you probably don’t think--"
Irma's fast-flickering fingers waved him off, but she look away. "We have to take each other at face value or we’ll never get anywhere. Don’t conjecture."
He had to clear up any doubts. “You probably expect--”
"Expect what?" she said, looking at him out of the corner of her sapphire eye. "”Expect that I if go down on you, you’ll give me my freedom?"
"Yes.” They fell silent, then laughed, then again went silent. Eventually he said softly, “Don’t feel that."
Irma shook her head and smiled. "I don’t . . . really! I'm a wonderful judge of character. A bit out of practice since I haven’t met anyone in half a year, but still keen. I think I can read you. You're not obscure. You want us to be on even ground. I see that. Now, the question is, do you believe me?"
Todd smiled bashfully. Irma resumed studying her new surroundings. If she completely imprinted the scene in her mind, she might dream about it. She would take at least that with her.
"You remembered me?" asked Todd, standing and walking to her. "From two glances?"
"Yes."
Todd went on, smiling ruefully at the memory, "After that Sunday, I saw your eyes everywhere." He did not dare tell her about his first feelings for her when she was only ten. He took her hand. At first she recoiled, then, in a conspicuous act of bravery, submitted. But her smile dropped and he saw that, yet he held on to her. He led her to a small cement bench and sat her on its edge.
"I kept seeing you. Sometimes just a vision, sometimes I mistook other women for you."
Irma laughed, took her hand away. "Well, that’s flattering. Maybe we should let it stay as it is. Keep the memories precious. . . ."
"Too late. Now memories won’t do. I must know you."
Again, her dark eyebrow rose, and she look askance at him. "Could be dangerous. Knowing too much about another person usually leads to disappointment. And I’m not an easy person."
"My flaws are dismal."
"Oh, your makeup doesn't worry me,” she said. She set her broad jaw and her eyes narrowed. "Your family has wronged me. Grievously wronged me."
"Yes."
Irma felt a flat, dull wall shoot up between them. He did not like her to be so direct; he did not want to talk about the politics that separated them. Still, she could not let him pretend that the rotten history did not exist. So she went on without softening her expression. She said bluntly, "I’m not responsible for my father’s crimes."
They felt silent. He looked at her with reserved distance. She returned his gaze firmly. Coldly, Todd declared, "Your arrest is over."
As if he had said nothing at all, Irma demanded, "Do you believe me? I am a loyal San Franciscan."
Todd smiled. Even as a prisoner, she wanted him to know that she was a patriot. It showed him the extraordinary solidarity of the city he led. The support of societies’ victims as well as its mandarins formed the foundation of the Wentworth dynasty and the morale of the militia. Nothing could flatter him more deeply. He took her hand again. "Yes. You are at liberty as of now! You may keep Rollins if you like, or we will use him elsewhere."
Irma dropped her eyes. That he derived so much pleasure from her emancipation stole a bit of ownership from her. No Wentworth deserved an iota of satisfaction from any part of the great wrong the family had done her. Her own vehemence in this conviction surprised her. She did not like to feel vindictive, but she could not stop herself. Sounding a cruel note of her own, she said, "Before I’ve paid for it?” She thought she saw him sneer. Another sneering Wentworth.
He said flatly, “Walk away. I’ll square everything with Thaddeus. Immediately."
Irma again stood and roamed about. After a moment, she looked back over her shoulder at him but looked away when she saw how his eye was fastened on her. The gray cat had come back, so she bent down and caressed it, scratched his chin and cheeks. Now she looked up with resolve and said, "Face value. I believe you. You say there are no strings, but your generosity is meant to be seductive."
"That’s hardly taking me at face value," he laughed.
"Your face has that value,” she sighed.
Todd shrugged. They laughed. Then Irma settled into the chair across from the cement seat where Todd sat smiling. She lounged easily, her legs stretched out in front of her. She smiled and bowed her head. “Tell me who you are.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Don’t you know who you are?”
“You mean what is my history? What do I believe? What do I want from life?”
“Whatever you want me to know about you.”
“I want you to know me as honest and compassionate.”
“Fine. I accept that. But it leads to another question: Being a Wentworth, how did you get that way?”
Todd surmised that Irma would not let him off the hook until he gave a narrative explanation of himself. He saw that she would not settle for quick answers, that she demanded to hear him speak in detail, to show subtlety and consistency of thought before she decided about him. So he sketched out his life story: a story of privilege, responsibility and vigorous education. He told her about his parents and how they tried to shape him. Frequently he stopped and said, “Surely you’ve heard enough.” But she shook her head and smiled slightly, and so he went on and on. He told her about his brothers and his few friends, about how they behaved toward one another. He recounted incidents in his life that had given him insight into how he must live to best nourish his soul.
He spoke at length about the windmill technology. He explained how his discovery of a “non-critical” blade design meant that wind-catching blades no longer had persnickety angle requirements. Todd’s blades--for he had actually carved broken blades into his new, smaller blades--required less skill to make and less balance to perform, yet they still improved a turbine’s output. By reducing the size and increasing the count of blades on each mill, Todd averred his mills would tip over at a rate of 110 miles per hour, versus 85 miles for the current generation. That with a 35-inch main hub pulley-- But he backed off this precious subject when he saw her stifle a yawn. He finished quickly, then held up his hands and said, “Thank you for listening. Do I pass muster?”
Irma nodded thoughtfully, bit her lip, and at last said, "I am comfortable with you. I think we are adequately compatible."
"These days, adequacy is a luxury. You’re contented even in these circumstances?”
"I told you," she said, "I’m here because I want to be. Now that you’ve so graciously let me go, there is no other reason for me to be here other than for my own pleasure."
"No. You are here because I--"
Irma walked toward her family's enemy, pulled him up from his seat, and kissed him. At first, their young lips touched tremulously, but soon the kiss fed upon itself. It grew increasingly passionate, increasingly damp; they each felt the other's burning heart. Irma took his hand to her breast.
"You don’t have to," Todd whispered between kisses.
Irma pushed him back slightly and arched her luxuriant eyebrow. Her eyes were filled with light. "Humor me," she said.