Romance Classics (107 page)

Jonathan smiled at her and asked, “May I get out for a moment? That’s the kind of view a city man dreams of and rarely gets to see.”

“Oh, please do.” Cherry smiled back at him and decided she was going to like the man. “I always like to watch the tide of spring creep up the mountain. I’m not sure whether it’s for Betsy’s sake or mine that I always stop here for a breather. I’m afraid people think I’m completely kooky, since I’ve lived up here practically all my life, but I never get tired of it. Every few days you can see the tide has crept a little higher. Down in the town it’s already spring. But up here you’d think it was still winter, except that every now and then you can see a little more green. And then the dogwood and the wild azaleas begin to show up; and later the rhododendrons are a sight to behold, and everything is green and spring is in full flood.”

Jonathan watched her vivid, lovely face and saw the enchantment in her eyes. Suddenly, as though feeling his eyes upon her, she made a little awkward movement and color came into her face as she looked up and met his eyes.

“I suppose
you
think I’m a kook, too,” she accused him defiantly.

“I think you are the loveliest, the most charming and delightful girl I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting,” said Jonathan slowly and with such a depth of sincerity that her eyes widened a little as she looked up and met his steady gaze.

Her eyes were more green than gray at that moment, and a brisk breeze ruffled the soft masses of her red hair beneath the controlling green ribbon that held the curls in place.

“Well, now, really,” she stammered, and was confused and annoyed to hear the faint catch in her breath,” that’s rather laying it on with a trowel, Mr. Gayle. Shall we get going?”

Without waiting for his answer, she went quickly back to the car and slid beneath the wheel. Jonathan joined her, and as she started the car he looked down at her anxiously.

“If I’ve offended you, Miss Bramblett,” he began, “I didn’t mean to be fresh. It’s just that I’m a bit groggy from all this fresh air and the beauties of nature, and that ‘tides of spring’ seemed so apt and delightful.”

“I talk too much,” Cherry interrupted brusquely, and sent the car ahead as fast as the narrow, steeply winding trail would permit.

“I’m sorry,” said Jonathan quietly.

“Sorry?” She was elaborately surprised, airy brows arched.

“Sorry that I destroyed your lovely mood of welcome to the tides of spring,” Jonathan said frankly.

“Oh, that!” Cherry shrugged shoulders hugged by her bulky jade-green sweater. “I do a lot of ‘nature girl’ chattering. Can’t help it. Gran’sir brought Loyce, my sister, and me up here when we were just kids, after my father was murdered. My mother died a few weeks later of a heart attack. Gran’sir loved this place, but I suppose he felt that it would be lonely for two small girls, so he tried to teach us to be nature lovers and to find excitement and pleasure all around us. We did, too. Neither of us could ever dream of living anywhere else. Our school days were miserable; we hated being away from Crossways. And then when Gran’sir got hurt and decided to turn Crossways Lodge into a self-supporting business, we didn’t have to go away any more.”

Suddenly the Lodge appeared before them. The house was a glorified log cabin. Built of peeled logs that had weathered to a mellow golden color, it stood serenely at the top of the mountain. Fold after fold of blue mountains faded away in the distance behind it and on either side. There was a wide verandah furnished with solid-looking rustic furniture. The windows were wide, and there was a large expanse of sloping, terraced lawn in front. At the left an apple orchard sloped away, the limbs of the trees furred with small pearly-pink buds. On the right there was a garden, neat and trim behind a low stone fence. Beyond the house at the back were the usual outbuildings, and from somewhere there came the sound of chickens and geese; the gobbling of turkeys; the low mooing of a cow.

Jonathan looked about him and drew a deep breath as Cherry stopped the car and slipped from behind the wheel. A woman clad in blue jeans and a dark sweater, a scarf tied over her head, came up from the direction of the barn, and Cherry called to her.

“Come and meet our new guest, Loyce,” she called.

Startled, the woman lifted her head and looked sharply at Jonathan and then at Cherry as she came forward with obvious reluctance.

“You weren’t supposed to bring a guest back, Cherry,” she protested. “There are no reservations until next week-end.”

“Mr. Gayle wanted very much to meet Gran’sir and had traveled all the way from Chicago for just that purpose, and I couldn’t refuse to let him ride back with me,” Cherry explained. And then to Jonathan, “Mr. Gayle, my sister, Loyce.”

“How do you do?” said Loyce frostily.

“I promised I’d go away as soon as I’d met the Judge if you found my presence unwelcome,” Jonathan said stiffly, irritated at her manner.

“That will be for Gran’sir to say,” Loyce told him coolly, and walked into the house.

Cherry drew a deep breath and turned to Jonathan apologetically.

“I’m sorry Loyce was rude, Mr. Gayle,” she apologized. “She’s never reconciled herself to the place being turned into a hunting and fishing Lodge. After all, it’s our home and she thinks we should have privacy. But Gran’sir feels that since the creek has been stocked with rainbow trout and the hunting is so good, we have no right to be selfish with it.”

Jonathan nodded. “That sounds like the man I want so much to meet,” he said quietly.

Cherry looked up at him and smiled.

“Then come along inside and meet him,” she invited, and led the way up the wide, shallow steps, across the verandah that was floored with native stone and into the house.

They entered a huge living room that took up one whole side of the house. There were panels of glass that could be pushed back in warm weather. Today, since there was still a nip in the air, the panels were closed. An enormous double fireplace occupied the center of the room, and there was a vast stone chimney above each fireplace. There was a big fire of logs blazing in one fireplace, and despite its size the room was pleasantly warm.

A man whose thick white hair matched a clipped white mustache sat in a wheel-chair beside the fireplace, a book open on a reading stand across his knees, which were covered with a thin plaid blanket.

He looked up as Cherry came in, and his thin, white face was touched with a welcoming smile that faded slightly as he saw Jonathan behind her.

“Oh, there you are, my dear. “His voice still held a hint of depth and richness that had been such a professional asset.

“Gran’sir, this is Mr. Jonathan Gayle, who has come all the way from Chicago for what he calls the ‘privilege’ of meeting you,” Cherry told him severely. “Seems from what he says that you’re a very famous guy. How come you never told me?”

The Judge chuckled as he held out a thin hand to Jonathan, his blue eyes twinkling.

“How do you do, Gayle?” He shook hands and laughed. “Hard to keep women folks properly respectful. If I’d tried to tell you I was famous, chick, you’d probably have looked down your nose at me and said, Oh, yeah? I bet!’ Matter of fact, I rather doubt that I am, if it comes to that.”

“But you are, sir,” Jonathan assured him earnestly. “Your decisions are quoted as authority by any number of legalistic authorities, and most of us in the profession have a terrific respect for your accomplishments and your wisdom and powers. This is a great moment for me, sir. I mean that with the utmost sincerity.”

Cherry stared at him, her brows drawn together in a puzzled scowl.

“I believe he really means it, Gran’sir,” she said in a tone faintly touched with awe.

“I believe he does,” said the Judge, and smothered a chuckle. “In future, young lady, I trust you will accord me the respect due me.”

“Whoosh!” scoffed Cherry inelegantly. “Which would you rather have: my respect, or my undying adoration?”

“I don’t suppose it would be possible for me to have both?” asked the Judge cautiously.

Cherry thought about that for a moment while Jonathan looked from one to the other, not quite sure whether they were really as serious as they seemed.

“Um, well, now, I don’t know!” Cherry drawled. “Respecting somebody means you’re just a teensy-weensy bit afraid of them. Adoring somebody — well, that’s different.”

“Don’t pay any attention to her, Gayle,” said the Judge cheerfully. “She’s a scatterbrain and a disrespectful little minx. But she’s a nice child at heart.”

“I’m sure she is, sir,” Jonathan answered hastily, and flushed as Cherry threw him a mocking glance.

“Well, Gran’sir, do we let him stay or do we toss him out?” she asked her grandfather. “He hasn’t a reservation and he hasn’t a reference, and we are always most particular about demanding both from our prospective guests.”

“I can furnish all the references you could possibly want,” Jonathan protested, nettled by the girl’s manner.

“I’m sure you can, Gayle,” said the Judge soothingly. “I told you to pay her no mind. How long are you planning to stay?”

“All summer, sir. That is, if I may?” There was frank anxiety in Jonathan’s tone.

The Judge’s bushy eyebrows went up slightly.

“You’re not retiring from the practice of law at your age?” he protested.

Jonathan hesitated. And then he answered quietly, “I’m not sure, sir. I want a few months of quiet and peace in which to make up my mind.”

“Disillusioned with the legal profession, son?” asked the Judge gently.

Jonathan hesitated and his jaw set hard.

“A little, sir, I’m afraid,” he admitted.

“How old are you, son?” asked the Judge.

“Twenty-six, sir.”

The Judge nodded, sighed and glanced at Cherry.

“Run along and get a room ready for our new guest, chick,” he ordered.

Cherry’s brows went up slightly.

“He’s staying?” she asked.

“Well, of course.” The Judge was obviously surprised at the question.

As Cherry turned, Jonathan said anxiously, “I hope you don’t mind?”

Cherry glanced at him. “Why should I? Gran’sir is the boss. If he says you stay, then you stay.”

“I wouldn’t want to stay if it would upset you or your sister,” Jonathan assured her earnestly.

For a moment Cherry eyed him, and then she smiled; a smile that lit her lovely face arid put a sparkle in her eyes.

“It won’t,” she drawled, and walked away and up the stairs.

“Sit down, son,” she heard the Judge say, “and tell me about it.”

She went down the corridor that bisected the guest wing upstairs, and a pretty, buxom girl in a blue uniform beneath an immaculate white apron called to her through an open door.

“Hey, Cherry, this room all right for the new boarder?”

Cherry paused in the doorway and surveyed the small but cheerfully furnished room; a corner room with windows that looked out over the bold sweep of the mountains and the rushing creek below.

“Well, why wouldn’t it be? The best room in the wing,” Cherry answered. “After what he’s had in Chicago he ought to be tickled simple with this. Here, let me give you a hand.”

“Well, now that’s neighborly of you,” laughed the other girl. “Just check on the clean towels in the bathroom. I’ve already made the bed fresh and added an extra blanket. Who said it was spring? It gets real nippy up here at night.”

“Makes the fish bite better.” Cherry laughed. “I hope your mother didn’t mind my bringing up a new guest when she had expected to have the next few days free of guests.”

“Oh, shucks,” laughed the girl. “You know Muv. The more the merrier. How that women loves to cook is something I’ll never understand. She’s going to make things tough for me if I ever find a man of my own and he expects me to be the cook she is!”

“Give yourself time, Elsie m’ girl; you’ll learn.” Cherry grinned.

A tall, rangy man who could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty, judging by his looks, appeared at the end of the corridor, laden with Jonathan’s luggage, and grinned bashfully at Cherry as he sidled into the room and put down the bags and the elaborate fishing gear.

“Figger this fellow’s aimin’ to catch hisself a real mess o’ fish,” he drawled as he eyed the gear. “Maybe somebody better tip Job off to see to it fellow don’t catch no more’n his legal limit.”

“Job met him this morning, and I’ve got a date with Job tonight, so he’ll have a chance to tip Mr. Gayle off to what is the legal limit,” Cherry answered.

“You reckon fellow’ll be needin’ a guide, Miss Cherry?” asked the man hopefully.

“I imagine so, Eben, and I’ll tell him about you,” Cherry promised.

“I’d appreciate that, Miss Cherry,” Eben answered gratefully as he left the room.

Cherry followed him downstairs.

The Judge and Jonathan were deep in earnest conversation, and Cherry paused only long enough to say, “Your room is ready, Mr. Gayle. It’s the corner room at the end of the corridor. Go up when you are ready.”

She smiled at them and went on out of the house and into the warming sunlight, scarcely pausing for Jonathan’s thanks.

Cherry went down the drive around the house and on to the barn. She slid open the big door and saw, at the far end of the building, Loyce bending above a big incubator from which came the cheerful cheeping of newly hatched baby chicks. Loyce was lifting them in gentle hands, transferring them to a big brooder and removing the emptied shells from which they had emerged.

She looked up from a kneeling position as Cherry came toward her, and slid the last handful of newly hatched babies into the brooder before she rose.

“They hatched about ninety per cent,” she said happily. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“No more than I would expect from eggs produced by chickens you have raised, honey,” Cherry told her with a fond smile. “You work yourself half to death looking after them. The least they can do is hatch and grow up and make toothsome yellow-legged fryers for the Lodge.”

Loyce said crossly, “Oh, don’t be silly.”

“Sorry,” Cherry apologized, and added soberly, “I do feel guilty, honey. You work harder than anybody on the place and seem to get less out of it.”