Beyond Deliverance
by
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If it had not been for the deep devotion and sympathy between my mother and me, I doubt if I could have borne my sorrow. I went to Mama to convey to her how grateful I felt. She stopped brushing my sister’s hair, and wrapped her arms around me.
“You are bearing up all right, daughter,” she assured me. “You will get through this. ‘Tis a wise woman who grows from the contradictions in her life and the dilemmas she faces.”
"Grow?” I shuddered under the weight of the suggestion. “I'm just trying to manage.”
"The less you have of a true understanding, Florence, the more you shall beat your head against a wall in an effort to manage it. It will manage you and you will miss the real understanding of it ...the truth that lays beneath."
“It pains me too much to see it for what it is—a betrayal of all I hold dear. What can possibly be more true than this?
“That’s for you to discover.”
“I just want to put it all behind me. There’s nothing more I want to see.”
“Ah, but perhaps that is the first step in recovering your life, to look at it. Take a good long look at it.” ...
“Sister, see here! The chief of police is just a young man!”
I took the paper from her and seeing his photograph on the front page, I remarked, “He is most attractive looking.”
“Perhaps you will want to answer the telephone, the next time he rings for Papa,” she teased.
“I will ignore that statement,” I replied with little feeling. As the days progressed, however, I couldn’t help becoming a little more interested in the telephone bell. I answered it myself only once, with a pleasant reply to my expectation: “This is Major Pullman.”
“Hello Major Pullman, I will summon Father.”
“Rather, miss—it is you with whom I wish to speak.”
“Me? I?” Caught off guard, I’m sure I replied too abruptly. Mama looked up from her embroidery, and Papa lowered the newspaper.
Major Pullman continued, “Yes, I only wish to inquire if you are well—er, I mean to say, I do hope you are feeling better after the terrible shock you have had.”
“I thank you, Major Pullman. I cannot say how well I feel, other than I am numb. Father is here. I shall summon him to the telephone.” I didn’t wait for his reply, but turned to Papa with the gesture for him to come to the phone.
“Hallo, Chief,” he began, accentuating the one-sided conversation with single words and grunts. In a matter of moments, he returned to his chair, took up the newspaper, and made quite a noise as he folded it to his preferred page and proportion before he spoke. “Major Pullman will call this evening,” he announced.
“Does he wish to question Florence?” Mama asked.
I looked to Papa for his answer, but I couldn’t see his face hidden behind the paper. After what seemed a long moment, he replied, “We shall see.”
Whether he intended to question me or not, I decided that I would remain in the parlor when Major Pullman arrived. That evening, I took pains to dress with care for my appearance. Because I was afraid to see my form and features in the glass, I presented myself before Ethel to ask her opinion.
“Thin as a rail. You look as though you are the hanger on the rack.” Ethel was never one to be tactful.
The family gathered in the parlor and waited as Sadie answered the door and showed the police chief to the room. Papa and Franklin stood to greet him with handshakes, while Mama and I remained seated and nodded as we were introduced. Although the evening was difficult, as my experience was gone over in detail, again and again, Mama and I were impressed by Major Pullman’s charming manner. At the end of the interview, feeling tired, I stood to excuse myself to go to my room.
“What are you keeping hidden?” Major Pullman gently asked me.
I sat back down. Mama looked up, startled by the question, and leaned toward me. I replied as much to Mama as to Major Pullman, “Nothing in the least. Why would I?”
“Still, there’s something,” he said, shaking his head and looking down at the floor.
I was genuinely surprised that Major Pullman had such insight. I hadn’t shown the contents of Tom’s trunks to either of my parents. It wasn’t that I was hiding it, certainly not to protect that devil! I decided, then and there, it was time I summoned the strength to be brave.
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About the Book
In Beyond Deliverance, Corinne Taylor continues the emotionally riveting and historically intriguing true story begun in her 2012 book, Deliverance from Evil.
So beautiful was the sight of Florence in her wedding gown as she walked down the aisle on the arm of her father in the Congregational Church that the thousand guests waiting in hushed conversations gasped in awe. Once an admired debutante in high society of Washington D.C., Florence is humiliated by another collective gasp at scandal just six months after her fashionable wedding was highlighted on the society pages of Washington’s newspapers.
Florence now attempts to rebuild her life—just at the time when the world is rocked by war and epidemic. If she recalls with wrenching pain the girl she used to be, it is because she knows the idealized romanticism of the time before 1915 can never be restored.
Once she idealized, now she questions—her own motives as well as the motives of her suitors who again queue up outside her apartment at the Cairo Hotel with impressive credentials, appealing physical form, and flirtatious flattery. Will she settle for friendship in marriage or will she hold out for the passion she desires? This story is about how Florence regains hope in her future, and the irony of her choice in men.
About the Author
Corinne Taylor has roots in Washington, D.C. that go back seven generations. She and her husband of thirty-five years have four adult sons, two grandchildren, and live in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. This is her third work of historical fiction.