The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer: My Life at Rose Red Read Online Free PDF Page B

believe this or not. If true, what kind
    of a place is it for a woman? Why would John bring his new wife
    to such a place? And is this trip of ours to be made as husband
    and wife, or businessman and wife? I harbor all these questions,
    but I ask nothing of John, for it riles him so when I challenge his
    decisions. He takes it for criticism instead of the curiosity it is.
    And so more tears fall here upon your pages, for I know not what
    I have gotten myself into. Wealth. Position. A darkly handsome
    man who has caught the eye of many an eligible girl. But twenty
    years my senior, moody and private. About our trip overseas he
    has only told me “to pack for a long trip. A year or more.
    Warmth, cold. Prepare for it all.”
    “But where are we going, my dearest?”
    “To the islands ?rst, as we’ve discussed. India, perhaps.
    Burma or Tibet if we can ?nd passage. The British have long
    since installed magni?cent rail lines in this part of the world, and
    how far behind can an oil-burning locomotive be? I tell you,
    Ellen, Omicron is in a position to be an international supplier.
    We have the jump on the Far East because of our base here in
    Seattle. And after that? Persia. I’d like to see Persia. And then on
    to Africa as the seas blow cold and that continent warms with
    summer winds. East Africa, of course. Good hunting. And
    around the Cape and up the coast to Spain, France and Britain,
    if war doesn’t prevent us. New York. Philadelphia. And then by
    rail again. Chicago? Denver? Who’s to know? The world is ours,
    my dear. Five star. The best cabins, coaches and the ?nest suites
    at the grandest hotels, train cars all to ourselves. Six months? A
    year? Long enough for the completion of the grand house, so
    that we have that magni?cent structure to which to return. A
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    place of our own. A place to raise the children that I hope you’ll
    be carrying before our return. A family, Ellen. Just think of it.”
    Said with such passion and enthusiasm. Who was I to cut in
    with the voice of reason? To intrude upon my husband’s shining
    moment. Never mind the insects that came to mind, the disease
    carried by every living creature in such places, never mind the
    rumors of bare-breasted heathens (it seemed he had chosen only
    primitive locations). Never mind that I might have preferred San
    Francisco, Paris and London. A year in Paris, Venice or Rome—
    now there was a honeymoon! Long hours spent languishing in
    bed under a down comforter with room service a bell pull away,
    hot bubble baths with Parisian soaps and my husband to guide me
    through the pleasures of being husband and wife. But for him,
    hunting. Natives. Exploration. Elephants, diamond mines and
    the Iron Horse.
    I kept my thoughts to myself the ?rst time he mentioned the
    trip. And the second. And the third. Always telling myself there
    would be plenty of time to set the course straight. That course
    now starts to-morrow. Pier 47. We steam to Victoria, switch ships
    and board for the Tahitian Islands. I see in myself this hesitation
    to confront John, a reluctance to spoil his good moods, or dare
    to enter his bad ones. He lives on these giant swings, like an ape,
    back and forth, high to low. Perhaps the great Sigmund Freud,
    about whom everyone is talking (his publication on the sexual
    theory is under translation into English but is said by Germans
    who have read it to be quite scandalous and intriguing), would
    have some way to quantify John’s moods. For me they are dif?cult
    to read, and dangerous to intrude upon. At his most elevated
    moments, he is so exciting and stimulating to be around: animated,
    courteous and entertaining; at his low points he is sullied,
    dark and brooding. I fear him. I anticipate violence at times,
    though have yet to see—and I hope I never will!—this side of him
    rise to the surface. If John ever does become violent with me, I
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    tremble at the thought. He is a big man, strong and imposing. I
    fear he could crush me