41

FRIDAY, JUNE 25, 1909

Hattie hesitated outside the door of her old bedroom, where Opal Jeffries was installed. She bit her lip, unexpectedly nervous. Did she have the right to force her company on the as-yet-unknown young woman, whether it was to commiserate, offer understanding, or anything else? After all, the girl on the other side of the door would be doing what Hattie had lacked the nerve to do herself: reveal the most private, degrading moments of her life in a public trial to send Roger Lord to prison.

All the same, Hattie hoped she could offer the girl a measure of comfort, if only knowing she wasn’t alone in this untenable situation. Hattie took a deep breath and tapped on the door.

It opened slowly and the young woman in the opening eyed her warily. Now what? her expression said as she took in Hattie’s apparel, which was unadorned but of obvious quality.

“Opal?” Hattie smiled gently. “My name is Hattie Murdock. I’m Jake’s wife.”

“Oh!” Some of the wariness faded from Opal’s eyes. She bobbed a quick curtsey.

“May I come in and talk to you for a few moments?”

Opal stood back shyly and gestured for Hattie to come into the room. “Mrs. Murdock said this was your room,” the girl said hesitantly. “I hope you don’t mind my staying here.”

“On the contrary,” Hattie replied, “I’m honored.” She looked around her old room, wondering how to proceed.

“Your husband was very kind to me,” Opal said softly, and Hattie discerned the faintest trace of hero worship in her eyes.

“In a way,” Hattie said slowly, “he’s what I want to talk to you about.”

The wariness returned, joined by incipient hostility. “You don’t want him to take the case?”

“No! I mean yes, I do. Oh criminy, I’m bungling this badly.” Hattie drew a deep breath. “I want to say I’m sorry for what Roger Lord did to you. I think what you did last night and your willingness to testify is inexpressibly brave. I understand how you feel and—”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Opal interrupted stiffly, “but you don’t have the first idea how I feel.” Ingrained servility be damned, she thought, looking around the beautiful bedroom. Who did this expensively dressed, well-groomed, rich woman think she was kidding? She’d likely been protected her entire life. In a pig’s eye, she understood.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Hattie replied with quiet vehemence. Her nails dug into her palms against the admission she was about to make. Discovering she was trembling, she drew a deep breath, then said, “Roger Lord raped me too.”

Shocked speechless, Opal sat abruptly on the edge of the bed. Hattie sat beside her and plucked Opal’s hand off her lap to hold in her own. She turned so they were face-to-face.

“I do understand,” Hattie insisted quietly. “After he attacked me, I felt a shame so crippling I wanted to hide forever. It didn’t matter what he’d done to me was not my fault or that I had no way of preventing it.” Holding Opal’s gaze, she continued. “I know Roger Lord enjoys inflicting pain, and I know the degrading helplessness of not being able to keep him from seeing how successful he is. I know how terrifying it is when the born confidence of thinking nothing horrible can happen to you is ripped away.”

Opal was squeezing the blood from Hattie’s fingertips as she nodded agreement, her eyes wide. “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Yes.”

“I admire your courage tremendously, Opal,” Hattie said fervently. “What you did last night was so brave. And for you to willingly face a trial . . .” Her voice trailed away momentarily and she looked down at their clasped hands. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet Opal’s. “Doc Fielding and Aunt Augusta decided not to press charges in the interest of saving my reputation, and I was glad. I thought I would die if the people in this town knew what happened to me—if Jake knew. It shames me that you’re willing to face the scandal I wasn’t, when you might never have been in this position had I half your courage.”

“Oh no, ma’am, don’t,” Opal said. “Don’t berate yourself. If Mr. Murdock hadn’t offered to find me a position in another town where no one would ever know what happened to me, I wouldn’t have done this, either.”

“Nevertheless, you’re very brave.”

“I’m scared.”

Hattie stroked their joined hands with her free one. “Of course you are. Yet last night you went back to his house when you knew better than anyone what you were letting yourself in for if anything went wrong. And you’re going through with the trial you know will be difficult. That’s real courage.”

“Were you married to Mr. Murdock when . . . ?”

“No, like you, I was a virgin. Jake and I have only been married a couple months.”

“How did you ever explain . . . ?”

Hattie blushed scarlet. Good Lord, how could she put this? “We . . . uh . . . sort of anticipated our wedding night by a couple weeks, and when he asked . . .”

“You mean you wanted to do . . . that with Mr. Murdock?”

“Oh yes. That’s what I meant when I said he’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Hattie gently disengaged their joined hands and stood up. She paced in front of the bed for a moment, then sat again. “Opal, this may be difficult to believe, but . . . um . . . sexual congress with a man can be glorious. I want you to know that. Most men are not like Roger Lord. Well,” she added honestly, “I only have Jake to compare him to, but I’m sure they’re not. Roger used—well, you know—his man part as a weapon, to inflict pain. He wanted it to be ugly and painful and shameful. Did he rant about showing you your rightful place?”

“Yes! You too?”

“Yes.” Hattie stuck out her bottom lip and exhaled forcefully, sending loosened curls floating. “It was as if he were punishing me for being female and having a mind of my own, and he delighted in my fear. But a real man, a normal man, is careful, and he can use his man part to make you feel good, to . . .” Her words trailed away at the look of blank disbelief on Opal’s face. She ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted Opal to know there was something besides pain to be found in the union of a man and a woman, but she didn’t know the right words. It was like trying to explain color to a blind person. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

About as much as I’d believe the ravings of a lunatic, Opal thought but didn’t say, since above all, she knew when to hold her tongue. In her world, maids did not disagree with mistresses. She and Hattie Murdock might share a common trauma, but Opal had been a member of the serving class too long to put much faith in this momentary sisterhood. The vibrant redhead was surprisingly friendly and she talked to her as if Opal were her equal. But Mrs. Murdock was still a wealthy woman whose path ordinarily never would have crossed Opal’s. Oh, they might have been present one day in the same dining room. But Mrs. Murdock would’ve been a guest at the table. Opal would have been serving.

Hattie suddenly shot her the biggest, most genuine smile Opal had ever seen and reached over to squeeze Opal’s hand. “You think I’m crazy,” she said and actually laughed. The expression on Opal’s face told her she certainly did, even if class distinctions were too firmly ingrained for her to express her reservations out loud. “Of course you do,” Hattie said comfortingly. “It’s much too soon not to. I would have thought it crazy too, had someone said the same to me so soon after Lord assaulted me. But, please, Opal, do me a favor. Remember my words, a year or two or ten from now, whenever you’re ready. Please keep it in mind that lovemaking between a man and a woman isn’t always the horror Roger Lord made it. Please?”

Opal gave her a shy smile, grateful she didn’t have to disagree and amazed Hattie Murdock would laugh about a maid thinking her crazy. In Opal’s experience, she’d have been offended. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she agreed. But don’t hold your breath I’ll ever believe it.

“That’s all I ask. Now, what can I do to help?”

“Help?” Opal was confused. She didn’t understand this family at all. They took her into their home, put her in a beautiful room, and didn’t even assign her any chores. They were beyond her experience with the socially elite.

“I know Jake will have a number of questions for you while he prepares your case. They’ll be personal and embarrassing. Would it help if I sat with you? I know it’s not much, but I could hold your hand.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Certainly. Perhaps we should discuss moving you out to our ranch—I’ll talk that over with Jake and Aunt Augusta. And of course, I’ll be in court every day to lend whatever moral support I can.” Hattie paused, her eyes serious. “It’s so little, Opal, when you are sacrificing so much. I wish I could do more.”

Opal simply shook her head in utter bafflement.