Hidden Places (47 page)

Sam came into the diner all the time, usually for breakfast, sometimes for supper, and once in a while for all three meals. He always sat hunched in a booth by himself with an invisible cloud of sadness all around him that looked as though it might rain all over you if you got too close. He was about three or four years older than me, and I guessed by his bib overalls, his muscular build, and his deeply tanned skin that he was probably a hired hand on one of the neighboring farms—except it was a mystery to me how a farmhand could afford to eat in a diner all the time.

Sam was so handsome it was all I could do to keep from staring at him whenever he came in. His solemn face and square jaw had a lot of character, and he had the fairest hair and bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I smiled and tried to be friendly whenever I waited on him, but he held me at arm’s length without ever moving a muscle. He rarely looked up, and when he did he never made eye contact. In fact, he never spoke one word more than he had to in order to get his food and pay his check. He acted as though he didn’t want anyone to notice him, like he wanted to blend into the booth and disappear.

‘‘Who is he?’’ I finally asked another waitress named Debbie. ‘‘I’ve noticed he comes in here a lot.’’

Debbie pulled me aside into the kitchen as if it were danger-ous to be caught talking about him out loud. ‘‘That’s Sam Wyatt,’’ she whispered. ‘‘He went to school here in Deer Springs with my older brothers. They always said he was a little...strange. All the Wyatts are.’’

‘‘Strange? How so?’’

‘‘You know, kind of quiet...mysterious. Sam never used to hang around much with the other kids, only with his older brother, Matthew.’’

‘‘Doesn’t he have a wife or a mother to feed him?’’

‘‘Sam’s not married!’’ Debbie reacted as if the idea was outrageous. ‘‘He runs Wyatt Orchards with his father. There’s just the two of them there now, since his mother died. His two brothers are both gone, too. I don’t know who’s feeding his father, but Sam comes in here every couple of days to get a decent meal.’’

‘‘Where did you say he lives?’’

Debbie’s eyebrows went up in surprise. ‘‘You haven’t heard of Wyatt Orchards? It’s the biggest spread in the county. If you take Spruce Road straight out of town for about two or three miles, you can’t miss it.’’

I went for a walk down Spruce Road the following Sunday afternoon on my day off, determined to find out where the mysterious Sam Wyatt lived. Debbie was right—you couldn’t miss the huge sign painted on the side of the barn:
Wyatt Orchards—Frank Wyatt & Sons, Proprietors
. I didn’t care a fig about the orchard, but I took one look at that beautiful house with the wide front porch and the dark green shutters and the big oak trees all around it and I knew that I’d found the home I’d longed for all my life. I had to live there. I would live there. All I needed to do was win Sam Wyatt’s heart.

With only three churches in town, it wasn’t hard to find out which one he attended. I went up to him after the service the following Sunday morning, acting like his long-lost friend.

‘‘Well, hey there...remember me? I wait on you at the diner sometimes. My name’s Eliza Rose. What’s yours?’’

‘‘Sam,’’ he said, staring at the floor. ‘‘Sam Wyatt.’’

‘‘Nice to finally meet you, Sam.’’ I stuck out my hand and he had no choice but to shake it. He turned as red as my daddy’s nose, then excused himself and hurried away the first chance he got.

Breaking through all the barriers Sam had built up was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It took me more than six months to do it, too. I felt like I was walking the high wire, trying to keep my balance between being too friendly and not friendly enough, and I knew that one little mistake might send me tumbling. But I just kept a picture of that beautiful house in my mind and thought about it every time Sam brushed me aside. I kept working on him, kept smiling and acting friendly in the diner and throwing myself in his path at church. It was like taming a skittish animal, first getting him used to me, then winning his trust and confidence, until finally he was eating out of my hand.

When Sam came into the diner for supper one Friday night I gathered up all my nerve to take the next step. ‘‘Hey, Sam, how come I never see you at the picture show?’’ I leaned on his table so our faces were real close. ‘‘Don’t you ever go?’’

He glanced up at me, then looked away. ‘‘Um...no.’’

‘‘Oh, you should go sometime! There’s a real exciting Tarzan serial playing right now, in fact. And I’ll bet you’d like Lillian Gish’s movies, too. All the fellows like Lillian Gish. I’m going to the seven-thirty show tonight. Why don’t you meet me there and find out what you’re missing?’’

He was silent for such a long time I thought sure he’d refuse, but he finally looked up and said, ‘‘All right.’’

I was surprised, but very pleased. We met outside the Ritz, and we each bought our own tickets and popcorn that first time. But afterward Sam said he’d enjoyed the picture show very much and that he’d like to go again sometime. That gave me the courage to take the next step.

‘‘Say, Sam, would you mind walking me home? I get spooked sometimes, walking all alone in the dark. It’s not far. I’m staying at Miss Hansen’s rooming house over on Willow.’’

He agreed, and it seemed to me that he stood up a little bit taller at the idea of protecting me. I took advantage of our time together to get him talking about his orchard.

‘‘What kind of work do you do, Sam?’’

‘‘I run an orchard with my father.’’

‘‘Do you like it?’’ I asked.

‘‘I’ve never thought about it,’’ he said with a shrug. ‘‘Farming is all I know. What else would I do?’’

At first, talking to Sam was like trying to pump a dry well. But as slowly as the changing seasons, Sam finally started loosening up. Pretty soon he was watching me in the diner instead of gazing down at the tabletop. Then I noticed him staring across the aisle at me in church instead of at his hymnal. He had that moonstruck look about him, and I could feel his eyes on me like two beams of light. One night I kissed him in the dark in the movie theater. Rudolf Valentino was kissing his leading lady, so I just turned to Sam, took his freshly-shaven face in my hands, and kissed him. Sam must have liked it a lot because he didn’t wait for me to make the first move after that.

But I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Sam’s growing interest in me. Frank Wyatt descended on Sam and me as we stood talking together after church one day and it was just like the plague of darkness the Bible always talks about. One minute Sam and I were laughing and the next minute Frank seemed to blot out the sun.

From the very first time I met Sam’s father he scared me to death. He seemed like such a cold, heartless man—and my opinion of him didn’t change once I got to know him, either. On the very first Sunday he met me he started giving me the third degree— who was I, and where did I come from, and what was I doing in Deer Springs? I knew I could never tell him the truth.

‘‘My family died in the influenza epidemic, Mr. Wyatt.’’

‘‘You say your name’s ‘Gerard’? What kind of a name is that?’’

‘‘French, I think. My daddy was born in New Orleans.’’

‘‘New Orleans! What kind of work did your father do there?’’

I pictured my daddy in whiteface with his red wig and bulbous nose and gigantic shoes, and tears sprang to my eyes. I told myself I was crying because I was scared of Frank, not because I missed my daddy. Sam saw my tears and mistook my reaction for grief.

‘‘It’s still hard for Eliza to talk about her family,’’ he told his father. He pulled a bandana handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me as he steered me away from Frank. ‘‘I’m sorry about my father,’’ he whispered.

‘‘I don’t think he likes me.’’

‘‘He doesn’t like anybody, Eliza. He acts that way with everyone.’’

I knew Frank Wyatt wasn’t satisfied with the way I’d answered his questions, so I began embroidering my lies, thinking up a respectable profession for my daddy and rehearsing all the details about where Daddy was educated and where we used to live so I’d be ready the next time Frank questioned me. I didn’t want to ruin my chances to live in that beautiful house by the orchard.

By this time Sam was calling on me regularly at the rooming house. He told me later that he was drawn to me because I was so mysterious and exotic, and I seemed to have a knowledge of the world that he didn’t have. I liked Sam, but I never really got to know him very well. Every time I looked into his blue eyes I saw a lot of sorrow and pain in them. Even after all the time we spent together, I still had no idea who he really was or what caused the sadness. In many ways, Sam remained a stranger to me, and since I was lying through my teeth about who I was, I guess I was a stranger to him, too.

After we went out together regularly for about three months and kissed all the time in the movie theater, I decided to take our courtship to the next stage. But just like that first kiss, I knew I’d have to make the first move.

‘‘I think I’m falling in love with you,’’ I said one night as we cuddled on Miss Hansen’s porch swing. Even in the dark I saw the surprise in his eyes.

‘‘You love...me?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ I lied. ‘‘Why does that surprise you so much?’’

‘‘You’re pretty as a picture, Eliza. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have such a pretty girl fall for me.’’

‘‘Well...? Do you love me, too, Sam Wyatt?’’

He looked me right in the eyes and I saw the truth even before he said it. ‘‘Yes,’’ he whispered. ‘‘Yes, I do. More than I know how to say.’’

I can’t tell you how guilty his confession made me feel. I’d coaxed him and tamed him and wormed my way into his life over the last several months until he’d lost his heart completely to me. I was probably the only person who had ever told Sam they loved him and it was all an act on my part. I liked Sam, I felt sorry for him, but I wasn’t in love with him. Still, I pushed the guilt aside and said, ‘‘You know what, Sam? I’d marry you in a heartbeat if you asked me to.’’

He appeared stunned. ‘‘My father would never give us his permission.’’

I nuzzled his ear. ‘‘Aren’t you old enough to make up your own mind?’’

‘‘Yes, but...’’

‘‘Well, I don’t mind eloping. What could your father do about it after the fact?’’

‘‘I don’t know.’’ He released me and his arms fell to his lap as he leaned back against the swing. ‘‘I don’t know,’’ he repeated.

Sam was terrified of his father. I could see it, plain as day. I would have to do something to take his mind off his fear. I gave him a few days to think about the idea of marriage because I’d learned that Sam liked to think things through before he acted. Then, as we cuddled on the porch a week later, I tried again.

‘‘I love you, Sam,’’ I whispered. ‘‘If we were married we wouldn’t have to say good-night when Miss Hansen turns off the porch lights. We could keep right on kissing all night, just like this...’’ I took his face in my hands and gave him the steamiest kiss he’d ever had in his life. After that, all thoughts of his father went up in smoke.

Eloping with me was the only act of rebellion in Sam’s entire life. We honeymooned in a hotel room across the state line, and I don’t think he worried about his father even once that night. But the next day... !

The next day Sam was shaking in his boots when he took me home. He was a big man, every bit as big and as strong as his father, but we both had jelly knees as we walked into the farmhouse kitchen that morning.

‘‘Where have you been all night?’’ Frank demanded. If looks could kill, the sheriff would have arrested Frank for murdering us both.

‘‘Eliza and I drove over the state line to see a justice of the peace last night,’’ Sam said shakily. ‘‘We’re married.’’

‘‘You’re
married
? To this...This
tramp
?’’

‘‘I love her.’’

‘‘Oh, I’m sure you do!’’ His voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘‘Nevertheless, you’re going straight to John Wakefield, and we’ll just see about having this foolish little blunder annulled. I won’t have her in my house.’’

‘‘No,’’ Sam said quietly. ‘‘No, I won’t have our marriage annulled.’’ He wrapped his brawny arm around my waist and pulled me close. ‘‘Eliza is my wife and I love her. If you can’t accept that...Then we’ll both have to leave.’’

Sam and Frank stared at each other for a long, long time. I didn’t realize until after I’d lived with Frank Wyatt for a few years what an incredibly brave thing Sam had done. When he took a stand against his father that morning, he risked losing everything he had—for my sake. I also didn’t realize at the time what a rare thing it was for Frank to back down and give in to his son. But he did.

‘‘All right, but I promise you this,’’ Frank said, waving his finger in Sam’s face. ‘‘I’ll be counting carefully for the next nine months, and if she produces a baby one day before that time, I’ll toss both her and the kid out in the gutter where they belong.’’

Thankfully, Jimmy was born one week after our first anniversary.

Except for the hateful stares of my father-in-law, I was very content in my marriage. I had the home I’d always longed for—even if it did include Frank Wyatt. From the very first time I stepped foot in Sam’s house, I knew I never wanted to live anywhere else. It’s not that everything was fancy and new—it wasn’t. The wallpaper was faded, and there were worn spots in the carpet, and the wooden stairs creaked when you climbed them, but that was exactly what I loved about it. All my life I’d lacked a history and permanence, but I saw both of those things in every object in the house. I made up stories about all the people who’d lived here before me and the history of the furnishings they’d left behind. I didn’t want to change a single thing. Every night as I would lay in Sam’s arms and hear the train whistle in the distance beyond the orchard, I’d remember the loneliness and longing I’d felt all my life and I’d wonder if the people on that train were gazing at my farmhouse and wishing they were me.