Pages of Promise (12 page)
Taylor took her arms and held them. For a moment his eyes ran over her face, and then he said, “Black hair and green eyes. Stephanie, I’ve tried, you don’t know how hard I’ve tried to keep from saying this, but you’re the most attractive, beautiful, gorgeous, smart, intelligent, charming, sexy woman that I ever met.”
She saw that joking wouldn’t turn this aside. “Please let me go, Jake,” she said.
He released her and said, “I might as well say what I want to say, and I might as well say it now.”
Stephanie sensed danger, as if they were standing on a precipice—she knew if they went over it, there could be no going back. But it was too late—he was already saying the irrevocable words.
“I love you, and I want to marry you.”
He spoke so matter-of-factly and his speech was so at variance with the intensity of his gaze that she could not respond.
“I’m not a very romantic guy, I guess, but I want to be. Right now I want to take you in my arms and kiss you. Would that be all right?”
Stephanie still felt too stunned to answer, but he took her silence as consent. He put his arms around her and kissed her. He held her for a moment, then lifted his head and said softly, “I’ll say it again. I love you, and I want to marry you.”
Never in her young life had Stephanie Stuart been so confused and so rattled. “Jake,” she stammered, “I–I don’t know what to say.” She moved away from him, clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, and her legs felt unsteady, but she determined to remain standing. “All of a sudden you walk in and spring this on me?”
Jake seemed subdued. Her response wasn’t what he’d hoped for. “I know it,” he muttered. “I’m just a mug, an ex-pug with no manners whatever.”
“That’s not true.” Stephanie went over and stood in front of him. “Your manners are rough, but there’s a goodness and a gentleness in you that I admire.”
“You do? Well, that’s good news.”
“But, Jake, marriage to me is a very holy thing.” She saw his eyes blink at the word “holy” and said, “The Lord is very important in my life, and that’s not true of you. How could we get along as husband and wife if we are so different on that one point?”
“I could change,” Jake said quietly.
“I’ve always been afraid of that sort of arrangement,” Stephanie said, biting her lip. “I’ve known women who went with men who weren’t Christians. They said, ‘When we’re married, he’ll be different.’ But I don’t know of any who changed. It was the wives who changed. It’s too important, Jake. And we’re different—incompatible—other ways, too. I saw how you took to my family. You want a regular wife who’ll stay home and have babies and cook for you. That’s not me. I don’t know if I
ever
want to have children, and staying home—well, to me marriage seems like sort of a trap for a woman.”
He looked surprised at that, so she went on. “I’ve told you I always wanted to be like my granddad. He’s gone everywhere, he knows all sorts of people, he’s had an exciting life. He loves getting the story, and so do I. That’s what I want to do.”
Jake stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on her. “So that’s it?” he said.
“I’m sorry, Jake, but you’d be sorry, too. It would never work.”
She expected him to argue, but he did not. Moving across the room, he picked up his hat from the table where he had thrown it. He went to the door and turned back and said quietly, “All that’s probably true, but it leaves one thing out.”
“What’s that, Jake?”
“I love you, and I got the strange feeling that I’m not going to get over it. Good-bye, Steph.”
He shut the door. Without warning, Stephanie felt tears filling her eyes. She tried to fight them back and could not. She groped her way to the couch, pulled her feet up under her, and began to weep without knowing why, yet aware that something had happened to her that was not going to pass away easily.
J
anuary brought more snow, and Richard stayed out-of-doors constantly. He took many of the chores off Logan’s shoulders, learning to milk the cows and take care of the beef critters, throwing their feed down to them from the loft. He became calmer, Logan and Anne noticed, and the hollows in his cheeks filled out as he began to gain weight on Anne’s cooking.
It was at the end of January, on a sunny Thursday afternoon, when Richard took one of his walks to the hills. He carried a gun, but since meat at the house was plentiful, he didn’t plan to shoot anything. The crust of snow broke beneath his boots, and the air was like wine. The sky was blue with fluffy clouds, and a feeling of goodwill ran through him. He followed the road, then crossed farmland, his eyes always darting here and there. Logan had taught him to recognize many of the birds, and he saw a gray fox that trotted smartly along, took one look at him, then reversed and disappeared into the brush.
He came to a fast little creek that fed into the river, and not wanting to get his feet wet, he decided to leap it. But his left leg, still weak, gave way so that he was off balance, and his right foot slipped and then was caught between two protruding rocks. He sprawled in the water, which instantly hit him in a cold wave. Instinctively holding the rifle out of the water, his face twisted, he pulled his foot loose and then tried to stand up. Pain shot down his ankle, and he had to crawl out of the creek.
“Well, this is a pretty mess!” he said in disgust. He looked around for a stick and saw none. “Sure would hate to crawl back home.” He tried to get his bearings and was grateful he had learned to know the land pretty well. The closest place was the Vine, only a half a mile or so away. “I can make it that far,” he grunted. He unloaded the rifle, got to his feet, and grasping the top of the barrel, used it as a cane. It was slow going, and he had to stop several times to rest. He came to an overgrown two-track road and said aloud, “This probably goes to the Vine.” He hobbled along, and his ankle gave out. It had been numb, but now pain was shooting through it, and he could not stand to touch it.
May be broken,
he thought, more annoyed than alarmed. He stood there uncertainly and then heard a sound. Looking up the road he saw a man coming on horseback and knew a great relief. He kept his eyes on the rider and soon recognized Tom Henderson. He waved, and Henderson kicked the horse into a gallop.
Pulling up, Henderson took in the wet clothes and the muddy end of the rifle butt. “Have some trouble, Stuart?”
“Twisted my ankle in the creek back there. Can’t stand to put it on the ground.”
“Here. Get on board.” Henderson slid off the horse, which had no saddle. He led the horse closer to Richard and said, “Whoa, boy!” then turned to Richard. “Let me give you a lift.”
Richard laid the rifle down and put his hands over the tall bay’s back. “Can’t give much push,” he said, then he felt his left leg grasped, and as he was lifted into the air, he managed to throw his injured leg over the horse. “Okay,” he said, and Henderson handed him the rifle and sprang up easily behind him saying, “Better get you out of this weather. You might catch pneumonia.”
The horse headed for home at a walk. Richard said, “Glad you came along, Tom.”
Henderson’s face broke into a grin. “Maybe I’m an angel sent to look after you.”
Richard thought about that, then said, “Well, I need some lookin’ after.”
“Don’t we all!”
The fire was warm, and the crackling of the white oak and the hickory logs had a soporific effect on Richard. For some time he had been watching the women work, and the men were all outside doing their chores. He thought over the past four days and was mildly surprised at the history of it. He had arrived at the house with Henderson and had been half carried inside. The older woman, who everybody simply called Granny, and the young woman, Laurel, had carefully removed his boot.
Granny Stevens shook her head. “You got a bad sprain there, sonny. Can you move that foot this way?” She made him move his foot every way and nodded. “Nothin’s broke, but you ain’t gonna be runnin’ foot races for a week or two.”
“Can you send for Uncle Logan to come after me?”
“Sure I can,” Tom said. “But what’s the hurry? It’s already getting late. Let these women doctor that foot of yours, and I’ll go over and tell Logan what happened.”
“I wouldn’t want to be intruding.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Laurel said unexpectedly. “I’ll make up a bed for you in the back bedroom.” She rose and left, and Henderson said, “There’s your invitation, okay?”
“Well, all right. I guess I can stay the night.”
The night had turned into two nights, then three. Logan had come over the day after the accident. He found Richard cheerful and comfortable, though his ankle was swollen to an enormous size. “Gonna take that thing a while to go down,” Logan said. He looked around and said, “You can come home, but it looks like you got more nurses here and no stairs to climb.”
Henderson, who had been sitting beside the pair, grinned and said, “The women are going crazy cooped up in the house. A sick man to practice on, that’s just what they need.”
Richard’s ankle had grown steadily better, and now he came to his feet, grabbed the cane that Logan had whittled for him, and moved across the floor. Laurel came out of the kitchen and said sharply, “You shouldn’t be on that foot!”
“Got to do something, Laurel,” he said. “I’m going crazy.”
“Well, you be careful, you hear?” She had a worried look and shook her head at him as if he were a naughty child. “Come on in the kitchen, then. You can help me peel potatoes.”
Carefully Richard moved into the kitchen, and for some time he sat next to her, working on the potatoes. She had revealed little of herself, only that she came from Tennessee. She never once spoke of a husband, Johnny’s father, which seemed rather strange. He asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, I’ve been here for two years. I came just after Johnny was born.”
Richard hesitated, then said, “Laurel, where’s your husband?”
Laurel turned her head so that he could not see her face. She was very still, and Richard said quickly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right.” Her voice was tight, and she did not turn to face him.
Richard felt terrible. “If there’s anything I hate, Laurel, it’s a nosy parker that has to know everything.” He put his hand on her shoulder, the first time he had touched her, and said quietly, “Never mind. Don’t be upset. I’m just a hard-nosed marine who doesn’t know any better.”
Laurel Jackson turned to face him. He saw tears in her eyes, and he saw with astonishment that his kindness had touched her. “Johnny’s father is dead,” she said finally, and her lips trembled. “They took me in here when nobody else would. These are good people, Richard.”
“I believe they are,” Richard answered. He peeled potatoes, glancing at the young woman from time to time. She was not beautiful, but there was a cleanness and prettiness that drew him. He said, “I like it here.”
“You gonna stay a while?”
“I might just do that.”
Jerry and Bonnie were taking their first vacation without their children. Since her brother Jesse’s death, Bonnie had felt alone, especially with her children grown and flown, so she was particularly enjoying Jerry’s company. They had flown to Chicago and had stayed with Amos and Rose, and they’d also spent time with Lenora and with Christie and Mario Castellano—Jerry had been very close to them all when he’d lived in Chicago as a young man.
An added purpose for the trip was the purchase of a new car, which they were driving cross-country back to L.A., seeing some sights en route and visiting some of the other relatives—Jerry’s large family making up for Bonnie’s lack of family. After spending a couple of days with Logan and seeing Richard, they headed west, stopping in Oklahoma City to stay overnight with Pete and Leslie.
As they sat at supper, Jerry said, “You should come out to Los Angeles for a long visit. Spend time with Mona. You need to get out of Oklahoma for a while and take things a little easier.”
Pete said, “It sounds inviting, but I can’t come now. There’s still a lot to do around here even though Stephen has taken on most of the responsibilities of running the business, since I’ve become an old man.”
Leslie rose to the bait and slapped him on the wrist. “You’re not old!” she said. “You’re a young sixty-six.”
Grinning broadly, Pete winked at Jerry, saying, “She always did have a yen for younger men.” Then he grew more serious. “One thing is tempting. It looks like Mona is staying in California for a while.”
Bonnie asked, “What do you hear from her? We see her very rarely, even though we’re in the same city.”
“She’s very busy,” Leslie answered. “She had a supporting part in one Monarch movie, and with Lylah’s help she got small parts in a couple of Republic pictures. Then she talked Lylah and Adam into doing a feature film about the Korean War. The last I heard it was just called
The Soldier.”
“I don’t know how she did it,” said Pete, “but she talked them into letting her star in the picture, which is pretty risky if you ask me. Costs a lot of money to make one of those things. But Adam said he thinks Mona can act better than most of the big stars. All she needed was a chance.” Pete shook his head and added, “I’m not sure that’s the right life for Mona. She hasn’t been happy in show business. And she’ll be thirty this year. That seems to bother her, too.”
“Well, working with Lylah is better,” Jerry observed. “She keeps on going, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does,” Pete said absently. He was silent for a moment, then said, “I can’t keep up with Stephen. Besides running our business, he keeps starting new companies and selling old ones off like you or I would buy a loaf of bread. He must be pretty shrewd, though. He’s worth a fortune.”
“But it’s all on paper, isn’t it?” Leslie shook her head doubtfully. “Remember what happened back in ’29. Lots of millionaires on paper couldn’t pay their rent the day after the stock market crashed.” She turned and asked, “What about your kids?”
Bonnie reached up and tucked a wisp of her black hair in, saying, “We’ll see Stephanie even less now that she’s a foreign correspondent.”
