Partners (15 page)

It was snowing again when she came out of the bank and hurried back to the apartment. She looked up into the wide lowering gray sky that was dotted with whiteness, and thought of a plane flying high about it all. She wondered if Rand had reached Chicago yet, and whether he had forgotten all about the baby by this time. Of course, men didn't carry burdens like that very long, not when they had business cares upon them. And she had gathered that this was a very important trip for him and would have to do with his future success in his chosen profession.

Back in the apartment she removed her snowy coat and hat, carefully put on a dry dress, that no dampness should come near the precious baby, and telling the nurse to take a nap, went and sat down near the sleeping baby to read her letters, but her eyes were gazing far away into the snowy sky and seeing a plane go venturing far above the world and the storm.

The first letter was from the agent regarding her inheritance, which it appeared was not an inheritance at all, but money that had been put in her name from time to time, during her girlhood. It enclosed papers that she was to fill out and sign in the presence of a competent witness, establishing her identity. It suggested that she go to the bank through which they had first made contact with her, and have the papers made out in legal form. Then on her coming twenty-first birthday the money would be placed in the bank to her account, and she would be at liberty to draw upon it. There was also enclosed a check of several hundred dollars, which represented the interested on her money for the last six months.

Dale sat stupefied and gazed at that magic little piece of paper, which the letter said belonged to her. Gazed at it in wonder and couldn't make it seem real.

Here she had been in dire distress for her daily bread, mourning because she had so little to tide her over till she found a job, grieving that she had no possible means of taking care of this dear baby herself, if it should be in danger of being sent to an orphanage. And she had all this wealth!

For the instant her brain was too numbed to calculate what the whole sum of her capital was, but it seemed enormous to her. From nothing to plenty! That was how she had come! And it was the Lord's doing, that she knew! A direct answer to prayer. More than an answer to her prayer, for she had never asked for much, not even for plenty. "Just a little bit of money!" she had pleaded, and it was quite awhile ago. Those days during the baby's illness had seemed so long that she had almost forgotten that she had asked for money. She had entirely forgotten that some money was coming sometime. During these last few strenuous days her whole mind had been taken up with the baby and nothing else had seemed to matter.

How was it that a little human mite like that had so entered into her soul and drawn her love? Probably she was going to have another struggle by and by when--but no! This money would make it possible for her to take care of that baby now!

Still it wasn't her baby. It really belonged to Rand. He had found it. She couldn't just pick it up and carry it off without his wish of course. And it was going to be terribly hard to give it up. Tears welled into her eyes as she thought about it.

And because the nurse was going about in the room, putting things to right, getting the baby ready for his evening meal, and she didn't want the nurse to see her tears, she stuffed the letter into its envelope and took up the other one.

The writing looked strangely familiar as she studied it thoughtfully. Somehow it carried her back into her school days. Why was that? Was that from Sam Swayne? It must be. She remembered now that was the way he used to curl his capital S.

It stirred her curiosity only slightly. She had left Sam as far behind in her world as her little girlhood days. He used to be a nice boy, nothing more, and he got awfully annoying when he was always trying to hold her hand. She had never had any inclination to hold hands with any of the boys.

Sam was nice, of course. Well brought up and a hard worker, he was active in the church and Sunday school, at least he was the one who passed around the roll books for the classes, and always distributed the singing books, and the Sunday school papers, and sang in the young men's quartet. He hadn't a very wonderful voice, but he sang accurately, and he could always be depended upon. He was never late anywhere and could always be relied on to serve well on any committee.

She remembered now as keenly as when it happened, how Sam had come to her after his mother's funeral, his new felt hat in his hand, set accurately in the creases they had put in it in the store when he bought it, and twisting it around and around in his hands had told her that he had always liked her and he thought it would be nice if they could get married and settle down together. He said he hadn't money enough yet to buy a house, but he had a good job, and he thought they could manage for a couple of years till he could save a down payment, and then she could pick out any house in reason that she'd like.

She had wanted to laugh, but she hadn't. She had felt sad for him. He looked so young and boyish, and her sorrow had made her feel so old. Then he had told her she was too pretty to go out and work and that he'd like to take care of her the rest of his life, if she just wouldn't mind going easy at the start till he could get on a little.

She had smiled at him and told him she was sorry, but she couldn't marry anyone now. Told him she didn't love him. That he was only a good friend and she would always cherish him as a friend.

But he hadn't given up. He had told her very earnestly that he loved her a lot and that she would get tired of working for herself and find out she'd like him to take care of her. He said when he got money enough for a down payment for a house he meant to write to her and tell her to come on and select it.

So she turned to his letter with a curious wonder whether he had been true to his words since he had promised. Poor Sam! Hadn't he got over his infatuation yet? She would hate to have to go all over it again.

Then she turned to the letter and read:

 

Dear Dale:

It seems a long time since you went away, and it's been deadly lonesome without you. I guess you don't know how a fellow feels when he loves a girl and she turns him down and goes away off and he can't find out for the longest where she is! I think you might have been kind enough to send me your address.

But you know what I said before you left, how I loved you and wanted to marry you, and how I was going to let you know when I was able to get you a house.

So now here I am! Something really wonderful has happened I've got a job that pays good wages, and I've found a house I can begin to buy right off. I've saved enough for the first down payment, and I want to get married right away. So if you can come home at once and see the house before we take it that would nice. But anyhow, I'm coming to you if you will write and tell me just where and what time of day I can best see you. I'd like to come this week if you can make it convenient, because I've got an option on the house, and it won't last long. Everybody else will be after it. It's a swell little house. So tell me where to come and when. I suppose you are working during the day, so I can come and meet you and take you out to dinner, and then we can go someplace and talk it all over.

Yours as ever, your true lover,

Sam

 

Dale closed up the letter quickly and put it in its envelope. She looked over toward the nurse who was feeding the baby with spoonfuls of a prepared formula. She had a feeling that the nurse must have seen the effect of that letter in her face. She felt her cheeks were crimson. She was distressed. Poor Sam! Going as far as that! Picking out the house and getting together the money!

She hurried over to the little desk by the window and began to write rapidly.

 

Dear Sam,

I certainly was surprised to get your letter, and I'm so sorry that you have kept to your purpose, because, Sam, I cannot marry you, ever. I do not love you with the kind of love people ought to have when they marry, and I never can. I admire you very much for your fine principles, and for your courage and bravery to go ahead and accomplish your purposes, but that is not love, and it is not the kind of feeling to base a marriage on.

You are just my good friend, Sam, and always will be that. I would like very much to see you sometime and have a nice little talk, but it can't be at present.

The job I have just now is helping to care for a sick person, and I cannot count on my hours at all, so it wouldn't do any good for you to try and come to see me, not at present. We'll just have to put that off till the right time comes, And, Sam, I'd like to put it off until you have got over this idea of wanting to marry me, because I
never
can.

I would be so glad if you could find some other girl you could love, who would love you and make a happy home with you. I really want that for you, Sam. So please get to work and make it come true.

Your true friend,

Dale Hathaway

 

Dale went out and mailed that letter at once. She didn't want Sam coming down here to complicate matters. How unusual to have a proposal of marriage right in the midst of this strange situation she was in now. She didn't want any wild ideas getting back to her hometown where they had known her all her life. Mrs. Beck's remarks suddenly came to mind. There was no telling what people might think of her, caring for a strange little baby, in a sort of partnership with a young man whom she had only known a few days. Well, she couldn't help it of course. She couldn't let the poor little soul die. She had to help. She went sadly back to the apartment, feeling suddenly very much alone. It made all the difference in the world to have Rand gone. His presence seemed to make all things right, and maybe that was not as it should be. Maybe she ought to get out of here before he returned, and let him know that she could not go on like this.

Then the memory of her inheritance came to her. She had money now and could take the baby if he would let her have him. When he came back she would talk to him about it. Of course, if he felt badly to give him up she mustn't--still, how would he take care of a baby? Oh, of course he could hire a nurse.

That thought brought a desolate little sadness. Then she hurried in to see if the baby was all right, and as she came and stood above him while he was being fed little sips of water, he seemed to look straight at her as if he recognized her, and he swallowed the water and then gurgled out a weak little "Ah!" as if he was trying to salute her.

"He knows you!" said the nurse looking up at Dale. "Can you beat that, at his age! And sick as he has been! He's a smart little kiddie though, to know you! Now isn't that sweet?"

The baby was licking his lips and staring at her in a really concentrated stare. Dale felt a sudden pulling at her heartstrings to think the little thing knew her, recognized the difference between herself and the nurse. She gave him a sweet little smile that said she was glad he knew her, though she wasn't at all sure he did. Yet it did look that way.

And then the telephone rang, and her heart began to beat more wildly. Telephone! Who would call? The doctor?

She hurried to answer, and then she heard Rand's voice, eager, comforting, interested.

"Is that you, Dale?"

He had never called her Dale before, and while she didn't stop just now to analyze the fact, but put it away for happy thinking when this was over, it made her glad. She told herself quite primly that she shouldn't be so glad. Yet of course it was all right, for hadn't he been up in the awful sky, where all sorts of terrible possibilities were lurking? Yes, she was glad he was safe yet. He wasn't away from them in an unknown world. He was right there on the wire, talking in his old familiar voice, wanting to know--"Is that you, Dale?" and her heart leaped up in spite of her chiding.

So she tried to make her own voice sound quite matter-of-fact, "Yes, George!" But somehow she couldn't get rid of the lilt that crept in without her knowledge and made the two words sound like a madrigal. The prosaic nurse heard it and pricked up her ears.

"Yes, I thought those two--" she told herself, as she went on with her monotonous work.

"Are you all right, Dale?"

"Oh, yes!" like an antiphonal chant. The joy of it seemed to throb over the wire, yet she only thought she was being quite quiet and subdued.

"Did you rest today?"

"Yes, sir, a lot," she chanted happily.

"Well, do you feel all right?"

"Why certainly," her laughter rang out like bells. "Why shouldn't I?"

"And the little guy, is he all right?"

"As right as you could expect. He's just enjoyed a nice drink of hot water, and the nurse says he recognized me. He said 'Ah!' He looked right at me and said 'Ah!' "

"No kidding?"

"No kidding!" said Dale happily.

"What does the nurse say about him?"

"Mr. Rand wants to know what you think of the baby tonight, Nurse," said Dale, lifting a formal glance toward the nurse.

"Why, I think he's doing finely," said the nurse. "This is the best day he's had since I've been here. I don't know how this snowy weather is going to affect him. It may bring back that hoarse cough, and I'm hoping for the best."

Dale detailed the nurse's message.
"Well, do you need me?" was the next question.

"We miss you," said Dale, trying to sound matter-of-fact, "but I think we're doing very well."

"When does the doctor come again? Find out what he thinks about whether I'm needed. I can work with more vigor when I know I'm on the path of duty and not missing something important I ought to be doing."

"The doctor doesn't come again till late this evening. He had an emergency operation tonight, but he means to drop in on us the last thing. He seemed to think the baby was going along all right. Did you have a good trip?"

"Oh yes, only I wished I was on the way home instead of on the way out."