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“He what?” Sarah asked, her eyes going wide.
“Asked me to marry him and move to South Dakota as soon as possible. Well, we’d be engaged immediately and move there, but I obviously can’t get married until the divorce with David is final.” Sophie took Baby Maya in her arms, patting her back. She was asleep, and Sophie wanted her to stay that way for another few hours until she awoke for a feeding.
“Well, what did you say?” Sarah’s voice rose with curiosity.
“I said I’d let him know tomorrow.” Sophie shrugged and yawned.
“Are you crazy? I would have said yes on the spot. Send him my way if you say no! He’s gorgeous and rich. I’ve seen him on the cover of Time magazine. Tall, dark, and handsome to use a cliche.” Sarah straightened the pillows on her couch and helped Sophie gather her things.
“He is handsome, no doubt, but he informed me that this would be a marriage in name only, if I wanted it that way and that the engagement period would be above board as well.” Sophie smirked.
Sarah snorted. “He said that?” She winked. “More’s the pity.”
Sophie laughed. “He did, or at least he said I could call the shots in that respect.” Sophie leaned against the door, tired and ready to go to bed.
“Yeah, right. He didn’t just pick you out of the blue, honey,” Sarah said, winking. “You’re a looker and a wonderful person. He’d be lucky to have you. Any man would be.”
“Thanks. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet for sure. My head is spinning.” Sophie closed her eyes and groaned.
“Sleep on it, and think about what’s best for Maya,” Sarah said.
“That’s the problem. I already know.”
* * * *
Sophie tossed and turned that night, and it had nothing to do with the baby, who slept like an angel. The decision was crazy, but an easy one. She had no close family here in Chicago who would miss her or vice versa. Her mother had died of a sudden heart attack last year, and her father was an alcoholic who didn’t care about her or Maya much. She had to call him if she ever wanted to talk, and he had seen Maya just once because Sophie had taken the baby by his dingy apartment for a very short visit. She would only be sad to leave Sarah, who was like a mother to her, and Abby behind.
But they would both kick her if she didn’t take this chance. She would kick herself. How could marrying John Granger be any worse than scrapping for every dollar and trying to keep the wolf from the door with a newborn in tow?
She knew the answer to that. He could be an abusive lout like David Banister had been, but even if he was, he was rich, and she could come to the good financially in that situation, surely. Sophie couldn’t talk herself out of saying yes.
After a mostly sleepless night, at 8:30 a.m., she picked up the phone and gave John Granger her answer.
* * * *
“You won’t regret this. I promise you,” Granger said a couple of hours later in her apartment. They were drinking tea from her chipped China in a surreal scene.
Maya studied him with unusually wide eyes from her playpen as she lay on her back. He was out of place here, and perhaps she sensed it.
“I hope not. That’s all I can say right now. The past month hasn’t been so good when it comes to men and their promises—documents included with such vows,” Sophie said archly.
“I would never hurt you like that, Sophie.” John Granger said, gazing into her eyes.
She could almost believe it. God knew why. She didn’t even know the man and had no response to his promise but silence.
He smiled and passed her a piece of paper. “Here’s the document. Please read over it. If you want a lawyer to look it over, feel free to get one. You can have it faxed to me if you need to.”
Sophie waved his words away. “I can read it. I had a bit of paralegal training before the baby came along.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” John sipped his tea. “That’s a good skill to have.”
“Yes, it is, but I wish I would have done more with it, especially with how things have turned out.” She sighed, taking the document from him.
“Perhaps you still can. It’s not too late. You’re quite young.” John finished his tea and put his cup on the dinged end table next to him.
“I’m 23, but I feel 50 these days.” Sophie laughed softly as she read through the document.
“You don’t look a day over 45,” he said, laughter in his voice.
“I’ll let that comment pass,” Sophie said.
Everything looked perfectly legal and generous. She would travel to meet him in February in South Dakota and would live with him at Haven House until they could be legally married, hopefully, shortly after. Once she signed the agreement, the marriage contract was binding. Sophie wouldn’t be released from it without a fight.
She had no reason or will to fight, so she signed and handed it back to him.
“Wonderful. So, I’ll see you in February. I’ll send the tickets by mail. I wish I could spend more time, but I have a plane to catch,” John said, standing.
“I understand. Thank you,” Sophie said, feeling awkward. She wondered if this was how women of the night felt—selling themselves for money or security. This arrangement was scarcely different. She didn’t have to give him her body—yet. Just the rest of her life and freedom, possibly.
* * * *
February 18, 1972
Sophie scanned the airport crowd for John Granger when she and Maya got off the plane in South Dakota. They had flown on his airline, of course—first class. Sophie felt like she was in a dream the whole time. She’d only flown once before in economy class. Would she get used to a life with a wealthy man like Granger when all she had ever known was a lower middle class or poor existence? David had hardly kept a job for more than a year each time he had one, so money was terribly tight. When he walked out, it was worse.
Maya snuffled against her shoulder.
She shushed her and swayed. “Soon, baby. We’re going to our new home now.” Just then, she spotted John.
He waved at her, a huge smile on his face. Granger was even more handsome than she remembered, if possible. His glossy dark hair was so black, it appeared blue, and his eyes were dark depths she couldn’t fathom. He leaned lightly on his cane, but it made him no less handsome or vital.
She waved back, her chest tightening with a twinge of anxiety. This was insane, but it felt too late to turn back. And she had nothing to go back to really.
John had them swept up into a limousine within minutes. “How was your trip?” He asked.
“Wonderful,” Sophie said, feeling tongue tied as she leaned against the plush seats of the limo.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. If it’s agreeable to you, we’ll be going to Haven House straightaway. There, you can meet the staff of the house—one of whom is the nanny, Ms. Roche. She will love Maya.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” A nanny? Sophie hadn’t even considered the prospect and wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“You can use her services as much or as little as you would like, of course. I think you’ll like her and that Maya will, too.” John smiled, offering her a glass of champagne.
She accepted. The bubbles rose pleasantly around her nose.
“Have you heard any news on the divorce progress?” John sipped his champagne.
“Not yet. From what I understand, it could be the end of March before the divorce is official. I’ll get the papers at Haven House. The law firm has my new address.”
David had laughed uproariously when he’d heard about her impending nuptials and move to South Dakota. “That’s good. Found yourself a rich man. Now you won’t need to try to rely on me for anything. You are a smart one, Soapy.” She’d wanted to kill him. She hated the nickname now since he was the one who had given it to her at age 17, and she hated him more than she had ever thought one could hate another human being. David was heartless and wouldn’t have cared to give any support to his daughter whether Sophie remarried or was living homeless in a gutter.
John’s words tore her away from her dark thoughts. “We’ll be there soon. It’s outside the city on a hill. I can’t wait for you to see Haven House.” John smiled and touched her shoulder.
Sophie nodded, feeling the heat of his fingertips. How strange to be marrying a man she barely knew! At least she would know him a little better by the time they said their vows.
“I have something for you and something to ask you formally. I wanted to wait until the timing was better.” His lips curled in a smile.
Her breath caught as John took a small jewelry box out of his pocket.
“Will you marry me, Sophie Banister?” John opened the jewelry box. A huge diamond sparkled there. It was oval shaped, flanked with rubies and set in gold.
“Yes, yes, I will.” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she stared at the brilliant gem.
He slipped the ring on her left ring finger gently. “This was my mother’s. She’s dead now, but she wanted my wife to have it, so we saved it.” His eyes were moist.
“I’m honored.” Sophie breathed out, realizing she’d been holding her breath. He must have really loved his mother, and she was touched.
“I have a feeling we will be happy together in a wonderful partnership,” John said.
His words threw cold water on the moment. Sophie had gotten caught up in the romance of the diamond, the handsome man, and the proposal. She’d almost forgotten this was a sham, a fake marriage—nothing more than a business transaction.
“I’m sure we will,” she said, feigning tiredness and leaning back in her seat.
A few moments passed in silence. Maya sighed in her sleep, and Sophie patted her back.
“Here we are—Haven House is just up the hill. You can see it from here.” John Granger pointed out the window of the limo.
“Oh, my. It’s...gargantuan.” Sophie couldn’t think of another word to describe Haven House. It crouched on the hill top above them—a mansion of dark, red bricks from what she could tell. Dark blue shutters gleamed against the brick. The place had a look of solidity and ancientness about it, as if it could have been part of the hill it rested on. The sheer number of windows and floors were arresting. Sophie guessed there were at least four floors to the mansion.
“It was built in 1865, so it’s just over a hundred years old now,” John said.
“It’s quite magnificent.” Sophie drank in the hill and the prairie grass around the house as well as the buildings alongside it. She couldn’t make out what they might be, but she wanted to explore when she could.
“I think so. You see why I didn’t want to lose it. My great grandfather, Ulysses Granger, had it built. He was a wealthy man. He made his fortune in shipping and then moved out here to get away from the smog of New York City.” He shrugged.
“I think I can see why. It’s cold, but it’s beautiful.” Sophie drank in the hills with snow on top. The lower ground had no snow at the moment, but the temperature was below twenty degrees at the moment.
“Yes, it is. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. In all my travels, I still find the Black Hills the most compelling place I’ve ever been. I think it’s the mix of history and the land.”
They began the ascent up the hill to Haven House. Sophie clutched the seat with one arm and the baby with the other. “It’s a steep climb, isn’t it?”
“It is, but you get used to it. It’s not very fun with snow, though,” John said, smiling.
“I’d think not.” Sophie didn’t want to think about it. She was glad she wouldn’t have to drive it.
The road wound on, curving as it went through sporadic clumps of pine trees and hardwoods. The house shimmered ahead.
“I can’t wait for you to see the inside of the house, though it might take some getting used to. It has its own personality. Everything is just a little shabby and worn.”
“I can imagine it would have its own type of atmosphere.” A shiver of foreboding ran through Sophie, and she hugged Maya tighter in her arms.
* * * *
The servants were lined up in the foyer as they entered. Sophie had the feeling they would have stood outside if the day hadn’t been so cold and dreary.
The house was cold and dark as if the heating weren’t used as it should be, but perhaps it was just the draftiness of an old house. Sophie wasn’t sure, but she shivered, glad she had worn her heaviest wool coat. Everything was mahogany wood with swirling tapestries in maroons and golds on the walls and rugs on the floors. A painting of an imposing man faced her on the opposite wall of the entryway. His gaze was dark and piercing, as if he were looking through the portrait—very much alive and watching everything. Several rooms branched off from the foyer, but she couldn’t see much beyond their doorways. A sweeping curved staircase was only a few yards away. “Who is that?” She whispered to John as the servants watched, pointing at the painting.
“That’s my great grandfather Ulysses whom I mentioned who had Haven House built. It seemed only right to have his painting there. There are other family portraits throughout the house,” he said, nodding with a look of pride. He turned to the servants. “This is Sophie Banister, my fiance. We are to be married as soon as possible—hopefully by the end of March,” John said, his voice strong and sure. “Please make her welcome, and see to her needs and wants.”
Sophie felt heat rise in her face due to all of the curious stares, but she pasted on a smile. Maya wriggled in her arms. Each servant introduced himself or herself. There was a butler, Mr. Garson and his wife, the housekeeper, Mrs. Garson, as well as the cook, Mrs. Wells, and the nanny, Ms. Roche. Sophie was surprised to see how young she was—no more than twenty-five.
“Would you like me to show you the nursery and tend to Maya for a bit while you get settled? I will be here overnight. My day off is Sundays, but I can be available as necessary for you. I live here. And call me Carla,” the nanny said, long, dark eyelashes sweeping over her cheeks. She really was gorgeous—at the level that she could be mistaken for a European model.
“That sounds wonderful.” Sophie was eager to see the nursery and her bedroom.
The butler and John took her bags upstairs.
“The nursery is this way,” Carla said. Her voice was soft, melodious. She led Sophie up the winding staircase to the second floor. “It’s at the end of the hallway—sort of secluded from the other rooms—except for mine, yours, of course, and the master bedroom.”
“I see.” It was overwhelming—the house and all the new people she was meeting.
Carla led her into a lovely, spacious room with an antique crib. The sheets were pink. The walls were white, as were the carpets. A changing table stood to the side of the crib, along with various play equipment, a play pen, and a play mat for the baby.
“This is wonderful,” Sophie said, her eyes filling with tears unbidden. She was overwhelmed. This room alone and the provisions made for Maya made her feel that she had done the right thing coming here and agreeing to be the wife of John Granger, as strange as the decision might have been to anyone else on the outside looking in.
“Isn’t it?” Carla asked, smiling. “Many babies in the household were raised here, and Maya can grow in this room for years. The crib can be moved out for a child’s bed. There is plenty of room.”
“Of course.” Sophie couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face at the thought of Maya’s future here. She would have everything she needed or wanted. It was a far cry from what Sophie could have provided for her back in Chicago as a single mother.
“Would you like me to take her for a while?” Carla reached out for the baby, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes, certainly. Her formula and everything is in this bag.” Sophie took the diaper bag from her shoulder and handed it over. “Her suitcase will be in my room, and I’ll bring it over.”
“Wonderful. And I made sure everything was stocked for her as well, so anything we need is here, or we can certainly get it,” Carla said, shifting slightly from side to side with the baby. “Has she been napping long?”
“Just for a bit. She will probably sleep for another hour or so.”
“I’ll just put her down, then. I’ll be right in here with her or right next door in my room. It adjoins the nursery.” Carla said, putting the baby gently in the crib and covering her with a warm blanket to her torso.
“Thank you,” Sophie said, feeling a bit awkward. She wasn’t used to having someone there whose sole job was to care for her child.
“If you need anything, you can pop in any time. I’ll take her off your hands as you want me to. I can also check on her and do feedings at night if and when you’d like,” Carla said as she began to put away the supplies in the diaper bag.
“Oh, yes. I’ll let you know about that,” Sophie said. “I’ll check on her later.”
“Your room is just on the other side of this one,” Carla said with a slight smile. She was like a Sphinx—pleasant, but unreadable.
Sophie wasn’t sure if she liked her or not. Carla Roche was lovely but cold somehow.
“Of course. I’ll head there now. Thank you.” Sophie left the nursery and walked tentatively to her bedroom. She opened the door and let out a tiny gasp. The room was painted in a blood red, dark maroon, and the cherry wood furniture only highlighted the hue. The carpet was a dark gray color, lending a somber tone to the room overall. But the most striking element of the furnishings were the roses everywhere in the room in vases of various sizes on every possible surface—all hues of them in white, crimson, yellow, peach, pink, and red tipped.
She wondered who had decorated the room. Could it have been John? Somehow, Sophie hoped not. It was somehow too much—strange, overdone, and disturbing. She determined to ask him later if he had ordered it to be decorated this way. This was obviously the room she would sleep in until they were married. Sophie hoped that the master bedroom was more to her liking. Even masculine colors and themes would be preferable to the blood red hue of this room.
Sophie took off her shoes with a sigh and turned down the bed. She was so tired, as if she had traveled for days and not just since this morning. She had been getting little sleep, though, in the past month and a half since she had made her decision to marry John Granger. Though she was certain it was the right one, such a momentous choice still made it hard to rest at night.
She quickly set a bedside alarm for an hour later, so she would have time to dress for dinner. The house ate formally in the dining room most nights unless it was decided otherwise, she had been told by John. The thought sent butterflies teeming through her stomach. Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was oblivious to the world.
The next thing she knew, the scent of roses pervaded the room, and someone was singing softly—a haunting ballad she didn’t recognize:
"O what is the matter?" Lord Lover, said he,
"O what is the matter?" said he.
"Lord, a lady is dead," an old lady said,
"And her name was Lady Nancy."
He ordered her grave to be opened wide,
Her shroud to be torn down,
And there he kissed her cold pale lips,
Till the tears came trinkling down.
Lady Nancy was buried in the cold church ground.
Lord Lover was buried close by her;
And out of her bosom there grew a rose,
And out of Lord Lover's a briar.
As the song went on, the woman’s voice young and tremulous, the scent of roses grew heavy and cloying, then rancid. A great feeling of sadness swept over Sophie—an overwhelming sense of loss.
The voice faded, along with the shadow of a woman, standing beyond her vision in the corner of the room. Sophie woke up with a start.
“It was just a dream,” she whispered. But how strange it had been! The scent of roses in her room was no longer sweet. It gagged her as a cloying odor. As for the woman, it was as if she had been in the room, but Sophie knew that was impossible. There was no one there with her, and no one had been. It was only a dream—or a nightmare.
She shrugged the dream off as the nerves of being in a new place and yawned, stretching. The nap had done little good. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all, likely due to the troubling nightmare. Just then, her alarm went off, startling her. Sophie shut it off with a slam of her hand down on the button.
* * * *
“The roses in my bedroom are lovely,” Sophie said to John at dinner, watching his response.
He sat across from her, wearing a chocolate brown sweater and slacks. The color suited him and brought out the amber in his eyes. “Oh?”
“You didn’t have them put there?” She asked and took a drink of tea.
“No, I’m sorry to say I didn’t. That is, if you like them.” He looked distracted as he took a bite of lamb.
“I do, I think. They are a bit overwhelming. There are so many of them.” She laughed lightly.
He frowned. “I’m not sure who had them put in. Perhaps it was Mrs. Garson, the housekeeper.”
“Perhaps,” Sophie said. “It’s a nice touch.”
“I’m glad you like them.” He smiled. “That green dress suits you. It brings out the emerald of your eyes,” John said, gazing at her thoughtfully.
“Oh, thank you.” She already knew it, and that was why she’d worn the dress.
“I’m only telling the truth,” he said. “I hate to say it, but I have business I must attend to tonight. I lost most of today, and we have some major issues going on at work.”
“Oh, yes,” Sophie answered stupidly. She felt bereft for a moment, but hadn’t she spent months of nights alone now or with only Maya for company? Sophie was used to it. An engagement and marriage of convenience likely would change little.
“Does that upset you?” John asked, watching her face. “You won’t be along here.”
“No, of course not. I can find plenty to occupy myself with—unpacking my things for one and checking on Maya.”
“Oh, one other thing. My father is too ill to join us for dinners these days, but he will want to meet you shortly.” John finished his glass of wine.
“I see.” Sophie felt a frisson of nerves at the thought. She wondered if she would meet the expectations for the wife that the man had envisioned for his heir.
“I think it will go best if you meet him alone—without me.”
“Are you certain?” Sophie said, gripping her fork tightly.
“I am. He’s cantankerous, but he’s always disarmed by a lovely woman.” John winked.
“That’s...reassuring, I guess. Well, lead the way, then.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to meet yet another person, and this one, a man who held sway over the rest of her life by the stroke of a pen.
* * * *
They stood outside the patriarch’s door on the third floor. “There’s an elevator just over here—installed for my father a few years ago. It goes to all floors, and you are welcome to use it if you should ever need to or want to,” John said.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s helpful for him and thank you,” Sophie said, wishing fervently that she weren’t facing the old man alone.
“I’ll see you before bed if I might come by your room to tell you goodnight later on,” John said.
“Of course.” Sophie’s heart thumped an extra beat at the thought.
“It will be by 10:30,” he said and touched her cheek before turning away. “I’m a night owl, unfortunately, and that’s the earliest I can force myself into bed.” He chuckled. “Good luck with dear old dad. Just be yourself. He’s expecting you, and he’ll love you.” John gave her a solemn look that made her question his words.
Sophie gulped and squared her shoulders as she pushed the bedroom door open.