Promises to Keep (7 page)
When Ronald held out his free hand, Annie stepped closer to the wheelchair and sat on the thick carpet with her head on his knee, clutching his fingers.
Travis moved out of Ronald’s embrace and sat back on his heels. When he looked at his son, Ronald saw such love, as well as weariness and sadness, in his young face.
“Dad—”
Ronald shook his head, cautioning, “Not now, Trav. I know you have questions. Lord knows I don’t have all of the answers. But shortly we’ll have a lot of company, and any discussion will have to wait until later.”
He smiled at Annie, curled next to his chair with her cheek still pressed to his knee. “It’s good to see you, Annie. You’ve grown up on me.” When she raised a blushing face to him, he casually brushed a wayward tear from her cheek and teased, “If I were twenty-five years or so younger, I’d give my rascal son a run for his money.”
The teasing had its desired effect. Annie giggled and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad to see you, too. I’m so sorry, we should have told you. . . I should have stayed home.”
“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. “Dry your pretty eyes, my dear, and I’ll see you both at dinner.” He patted her cheek fondly.
“Dad, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to stay to dinner—”
Annie protested, “Oh no, Travis, you have to stay. I should go—”
“You are
both
staying. Period.” Ronald allowed no further argument. “It’s Christmas and a time for celebration. You two are going to eat turkey with me until you explode. Annie, do your parents know you’re here?” She shook her head. “Then why don’t you give them a call and let them know you’ve been invited for dinner? Travis, take off those boots, they’re still wet. And where are your manners? Help Annie off with her coat.”
“Yes, sir.” Two voices spoke at once. As Ronald noted the tender regard they had for each other, he sent up a silent prayer that someday he’d see Annie walk down the aisle of a church right here in Thompkin, and marry his tall, handsome boy.
In the meantime they had a dinner to attend, and he had some hard decisions to make.
Festive holiday music played softly in the background, while the laughter and chatter of Quincy Hall’s dinner guests rang above the clink of crystal and silverware. Another successful party was well underway, and Ruth sat at one end of the table, smiling, gracious, lovelier than ever.
Seated across from Travis near the head of the table, Annie toyed with a piece of roast turkey. Her nerves prevented her from eating much, and she hadn’t said more than a few words since dinner began. How easy to smile, though, when she saw for herself the way Travis and his daddy enjoyed each other’s company. If only Travis’s mama would join in, too. In her opinion, Mrs. Quincy missed out on a lot.
She glanced around, awed by the magnificent, intimidating room. Worried about acting dumb, Annie tried to concentrate on her table manners, but only managed to move the food around on her plate, knowing she wouldn’t be able to swallow much.
She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t have let Travis talk her into it. Everything about her seemed less than it should be. Her appearance, her level of social graces . . . her ability to hold her own next to Travis and his elegant family.
Then she caught the smile Travis sent her across the table. She saw his daddy wink at them both as he forked up a bite of chestnut dressing. Suddenly it was easier to breathe. Annie rescued a carrot slice she’d buried under her turkey, and nibbled on it as she returned Mr. Quincy’s wink.
The noise level of animated, cheery dinner conversation grew, along with Ruth’s anger and frustration. She hadn’t eaten more than a taste of anything. The blame for her inability to enjoy her own party rested on the slender bit of trash seated near Ronald, smiling at her besotted son.
It was all Ruth could do to remain calm. It wasn’t fair. She would
not
tolerate it. Right in the middle of the fourth course, she began to push back her chair. She had no set plan, but right now her decision to rid her dinner table of a Turner overrode her sensibility.
Then she noticed how desperately Catherine Cabot, seated a few chairs away from her, stared at Travis. When Catherine turned back to her dinner, she looked up and for a second or two her distress was plain to see. Realizing Ruth watched her, the poor girl’s cheeks flamed and she hurriedly ducked her head.
The thought that Catherine might be humiliated if Ruth incurred any sort of scene kept her from embarrassing the dear child. Ruth relaxed in her seat, confident no one nearby noticed she’d almost committed an inexcusable action at her own dinner table. Now wasn’t the time. She took a deep breath and nodded to Jenny when she whispered the dessert course was ready. As the maids cleared the entrée plates, Ruth chatted with several of her dinner companions seated on both sides of the table, and silently plotted the confrontation which would ensue when all her guests were gone and the family was alone.
She deliberately caught Catherine’s attention and smiled at her, causing her face to brighten. Such a darling girl. She’d make a wonderful daughter-in-law.
When Jenny set the raspberry and Bavarian cream mousse in front of her, Ruth decided she had an appetite after all.
After the party, with Annie close by his side, Travis faced his father in the study. “Dad, it’s gone on long enough. Maybe we were both kids when Mother’s attitude started, but we’re not kids any longer.” The look on his face reflected his determination.
Ronald stalled gently. “Son, your mother needs to be responsible for any explanations you demand. But I also think she’s not ready to answer those questions.” He glanced over at Annie, observed the shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there when she’d first arrived with Travis. The poor girl was exhausted.
“Why don’t you take Annie home? We can talk later. I know I promised you an explanation right after the party, but right now I’m tired and in need of my rest. We’ll get this straightened out, Trav. You have my word.” The smile he kept pasted to his face faded as soon as they turned and walked from the study.
He wanted nothing more than to clear the air with his wife. When he wheeled himself in the direction of the dining room and peered through the open doorway, the only occupant of the room seemed to be their day maid, Jenny, shrugging into her coat.
“Jenny, where’s Mrs. Quincy?”
Startled, she faced him, a hand over her heart. “Lord, Mr. Ronald, you gave me a turn. I thought you’d gone upstairs with Mrs. Quincy.” Jenny took a deep breath before buttoning up her coat. “She’s in the master suite, sir. I’m all finished. I sent Alice home, and I think Martha went up to her room. I’ll be back early tomorrow morning to help serve the holiday luncheon.”
Ronald nodded to her absently. He’d forgotten about Ruth’s annual luncheon for the ladies of Thompkin with whom she socialized. It made clearing the air tonight all the more important.
“Thank you, Jenny. And thanks for the extra help tonight. You didn’t have to stay, not after the full day I know you put in.”
“I was happy to do it, Mr. Ronald. See you tomorrow.” Jenny turned and bustled toward the back door. Ronald wanted to tell her to just use the front entrance and be done with it, but he knew she wouldn’t. Ruth trained the staff well, and not even Martha would have dared to use the front door, at least not when Ruth was around. It was just another small spot of frustration for him.
When he was a kid, Martha would sail out the front door with familiar confidence. He recalled several times when his mother and Martha went Christmas shopping together. Employer and employee they might have been, but they’d also been friends. Another difference between Amelia Quincy and his Ruthie. His mother treated the staff like family and consequently, they’d all been loyal to her. But to Ruth they were servants, nothing more. He loved her more than his own life, but he wasn’t blind or obtuse, either.
He wheeled over to the elevator, which he’d had installed when he finally accepted he’d be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. As the doors swished closed, Ronald rested his head against the padded chair cushion and wished he didn’t feel so exhausted. Most of the time he handled the repercussions of his stroke fairly well, considering he was confined to this damned chair. But stress always complicated things, and today had certainly held its share of negative emotion.
He’d never been able to make Ruth understand that the circumstances of a person’s arrival into the world had no bearing on their overall worth. Her past was proof that anyone could rise above the circumstances of their birth. How such an important lesson had escaped Ruth’s instruction, he didn’t know.
How was he going to smooth this mess over?
The silence in Travis’s Beemer was broken only by the occasional swish of the windshield wipers. Annie sat with one hand tucked in her pocket and the other pressed against Travis’s knee. Through her woolen glove she could feel the heat of his skin and the way his leg muscles tensed and relaxed as he shifted and accelerated. They both needed the contact.
“Are you okay?” At his concerned inquiry, she turned to him, and her heart melted as she saw the way he gazed at her. At a stop light in the middle of Thompkin Square, his hand cupped her cheek. When she nodded, he smiled and the pad of his thumb brushed against her lips, before he turned his attention back to the road. To her, the caress felt like a kiss.
Before they approached the turnoff for Spring Street, she grabbed his arm. “Can we just park somewhere for a while? I don’t want to go home yet.”
Slowing the car, he pulled to the side of the road and shifted into neutral, then glanced at the illuminated clock on the dash. “Annie, it’s almost eleven. I promised your mother I’d have you back by then. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your folks.”
“They won’t be mad. They trust me, and they trust you, enough to know if I’m late there’d be a good reason. Please, Travis. Just for a little while.”
Her tense shoulders sagged in relief when he nodded. “Okay. Maybe your daddy won’t pound on me too hard for keeping you out past eleven.”
Without another word, he turned the car around and headed for Boggy Creek Lane. Luckily for them, the wide lane wasn’t too muddy with melted snow. He parked the car and killed the headlights, but left the engine idling. In silence, they unfastened their seat belts and reached for the comfort of each other’s arms. She wanted Travis to kiss her so badly, but once he did, chances were they’d both be unable to stop. And they needed to talk out what happened that evening.
Travis pulled back to look into her eyes and whispered, “I’m so sorry my mother acted that way. So sorry she hurt you.”
“I just want to know why. Don’t you? Don’t you want to know why she hates me, Travis? She’s always hated me, right from the first. I used to think she’d hate any girl who liked you, but it’s only me, isn’t it? She likes that other girl, that Catherine, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. I don’t like to admit it, but you’re right. And I want to know why, too.” His palm soothed over her hair as he mused, “For some reason Dad thinks she needs to be the one who tells us. Whatever it is, I think it goes way deeper than just being snooty because I want to be with you and not Catherine Cabot.”
“It’s because our family is poor. Your mother thinks I’m not good enough for you.” Defeat, angry pride, maybe both, colored her voice. She heard it for herself.
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. It never did. And I’m not a minor any longer. Maybe I can’t legally drink yet, but I can vote, and I can marry the girl I love.” Travis cupped her face between his hands and kissed her, deep and long. Her fingers grasped his wrists as she returned the ardent kiss.
As their lips parted, he huskily assured, “She can’t make me give you up. She can’t stop us from getting married, not now, and not ever.”
When Travis kissed her, Annie believed him. When he held her in his arms and the wild beat of his heart pounded against hers, she felt safe, protected, focused.
She told herself she was silly to feel such panic and dread, crazy to think Ruth Quincy could ruin their future. Travis was legally an adult. Her folks would welcome him with open arms.
While snow fell all around them and coated the windshield, Annie reveled in Travis’s embrace. They’d plan their future together, regardless of his mother’s bad opinion of her and her family.
Finally he eased away and rested his cheek against hers. “I love you so much. I wish we could stay together all night. I don’t want to let you go, but I have to take you home. I don’t want your folks to worry.”
She nodded and slid back into her seat.
When they reached Annie’s house, he insisted on going in with her to explain their lateness to her folks. They tiptoed up the steps and through the front door. Except for a lamp glowing in the living room, the downstairs was dark and empty.
In the kitchen, her mother had left the light on over the stove and there was a note propped against the saltshaker on the table. Annie picked it up and read, “‘Went to bed. Pie in the fridge if you’re hungry. Hope you had fun, love, Mama.’ They didn’t wait up. I wonder why? They won’t even know I’m late, Travis.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders. “They trust us. Hey, don’t look so sad,” he admonished as she raised confused eyes to his. “This is a good thing. They don’t think you’re a baby any longer, and your mom left pie. Life is good. Let’s eat.”
She laughed at his eagerness as he opened the fridge. Shoulder to shoulder at the table, they dug into the crumbly blueberry pie and ate right out of the pastry plate. When she looked up and grinned at him through a mouthful of berries, Travis grinned back.
Life
was
good.
