Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [72]
She began to sing. One song after another came into her head. She sang “Ananias” and “Standing in the Need of Prayer” and “Ezekiel Saw the Wheel.” Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, windowpanes rattled. Rain poured against the side of the house. She sang “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” and “Jacob’s Ladder” and “Blessed Assurance” and “Wade in the Water” and “Precious Lord” and “There Is Balm in Gilead.” Feeling a bit exhausted by so much song, she decided to refresh herself with a daiquiri. Then she resumed singing, and she sang until midnight.
76 Witch Doctor
Dr. Sauer was at the Lutweiler party wearing his yellow socks, and as his trousers were cut two inches short the yellow socks could be seen drifting here and there as though they possessed a life of their own.
“I don’t understand that man,” said Mr. Bridge. “I do not for the life of me understand that fellow.”
Mrs. Bridge, trying to defend him, suggested that perhaps short trousers and bright socks were the style in Europe.
“And what about this girl he’s with? This Genevieve, or whatever her name is.”
“She must be his daughter, don’t you suppose?”
“His daughter is back East at some boarding school. Who in the name of all that’s holy this girl is, I have no idea.”
Before the party was over they found out. Genevieve was a student at the Kansas City Art Institute. Genevieve, unable to put up with life in Chillicothe, unable to live with her father because he owned a hardware store and with her mother because she was her mother, had fled to Kansas City, where the streets were paved with gold and a girl could study art without being nagged about it and nagged about marrying Howard Bagley. Howard Bagley thought the hardware business had a great future. Genevieve revealed all. She announced that she had been a mess when somebody told her about Dr. Alexis Sauer. Now everything was fine.
On the way home Mr. Bridge said, “Well, I warned you about Alex. Take him as he is, or not at all.”
“Oh, I found him awfully entertaining,” she said. “His face reminds me of someone, though I can’t think who.”
“Lenin, that’s who.”
Mrs. Bridge was startled.
“That’s who it is,” he said. “Everybody notices it, and they never can think who he looks like. But that’s who. In my opinion he cultivates the resemblance deliberately, Lord knows why.”
Mrs. Bridge said, “I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m sure he would.”
A few minutes later she said, “I just wonder if he’ll be happy with someone that age.”
“I doubt very much indeed if he’s planning to marry that girl.”
“Oh, really? Well, I suppose he can’t be blamed for not wanting to rush into a second marriage. They say his wife was impossible.”
“I never met the woman. I don’t see how she can be any more impossible than he is.”
“They must have been quite a pair. The Star certainly made hay out of the divorce proceedings.”
He did not answer. The divorce had been uglier than most. He did not want to discuss it.
“Madge was telling me she heard he cared more for his art collection than for his wife. I suppose it must be quite extensive.”
“Alex travels a great deal. I expect he’s picked up things from various countries.”
“Apparently the Lutweilers have been quite close. Helen was telling me the Sauers’ house was simply crammed with art objects of every description.”
He suspected that for some reason she wanted to become better acquainted with the psychiatrist. Sauer was a pudgy, balding little man with a noticeable cast in one eye and moist lips the color of fresh liver. He should not be interesting to women, yet his former wife was beautiful and now there was this pretty young girl, Genevieve. He recalled, too, hearing the wives of other men discuss Alex Sauer with obvious fascination. It did not make sense.
“Madge tells me he’s considered one of the most brilliant analysts in the country.”
Mr. Bridge did not say anything.
“He is clothes-conscious,” she remarked a trifle critically, but at the same time there was approval in her voice.
He thought about the psychiatrist’s clothes. The gaudy vests