Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (6 page)

Whistling, he pushed open the gate at Widow Bardett's house. She was gone for the weekend, which meant he had the entire house at his disposal. No new tenants had arrived to rent the other spare rooms and he relished the thought of several hours to himself.

Loosening his tie as he entered his room, he frowned at the sight of a letter on his bed. He tossed his tie over a chair and picked up the envelope. Seeing his mother's firm handwriting, he slit it open, then pul ed out the single sheet.

She wanted him to come home. The people he mentioned sounded like good company, she wrote, but wouldn't he rather be with his family?

"We miss you, al of us. Even your father wants you home."

He dropped the letter on the bed and stretched out, his legs crossed at the ankles. Was that true? He couldn't remember anything but arguments with his dad in the years before he left. Everything he'd done had upset his father—his friends, the job he'd pursued, his grades. His mother and older sister had often stepped in to stop the two of them from fighting. He couldn't remember a single relaxing evening such as the one he'd just spent with the Bates family.

Something struck his window and he sat up, frowning. He heard the faint rattle again and crawled off the bed, yanking the curtain aside and peering into the deepening gloom.

"Frank?" A throaty whisper spil ed into the open window.

"Marian?" He leaned on the ledge, unable to distinguish her shape from the shadows in the yard.

"Please, Frank, come outside."

She met him at the bottom of the steps and flung her arms around him. "Oh, Frank!"

He disentangled himself from her hold, then led her into the protection of the large oak trees surrounding Mrs.

Bartlett's property. Even though his landlady was away, anyone walking by the house would be able to see them. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Father. Oh, Frank!" She flung herself back into his arms. "He says it's time for me to get married and he's already picked out my husband!"

"Get married? Isn't this rather sudden?"

She hiccupped and he could feel her nod. "I turned eighteen on Tuesday and he decided I'm old enough."

Frank leaned back until he could see the outline of her face. He traced her cheek with his thumbs, wiping away the tears. "And who has he selected?" he asked quietly.

"Martin Applethwaite."

Frank frowned, trying to place the name. Was it one of the men who'd come into the feed store? After a moment, he shook his head. "I don't know him."

"You wouldn't." She sniffled and he took out his handkerchief, waiting while she blew her nose. "Father met him when they both attended a special session at the seminary last year, and they've been writing to each other ever since. Mr. Applethwaite wrote that he's coming to visit next month. He's a widower and I don't know if they hatched this plan together or not, but Father's determined that I'll be his next wife."

Her voice rose in a loud wail, and Frank gathered her close to muffle her words. "Marian, surely you can talk to your father. Who knows? Besides, maybe you'll like this Appleton guy."

"Applethwaite," she corrected with another hiccup. "And I don't like him. He's old, Frank, almost forty, and he smel s, and he never stops talking. Anyway, I don't want to marry him. I want to marry you."

Frank's heart pounded. Marian lifted her head. "What's the matter, Frank? Don't you want to marry me? Isn't that why you've stayed in town, so we could get to know each other better?"

"Wel , it is. But marriage...Marian, I can't offer a wife very much."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "That's al right, Frank, I don't need very much. But I refuse to marry someone my father chooses for me."

"He wants you to be happy."

"Why are you agreeing with Father?" Marian stared at him, her eyes almost black in the fading light. "Do you want me to marry another man? I thought you loved me."

Her declaration echoed in his ears. Did he love her? He'd never said the words. But why was he staying in the area?

She struggled to get out of his arms and his hold tightened. "Marian..."

"No, let me go! I thought you'd help me because you cared about me. But I guess I was wrong." She pul ed free of his grasp and stepped away, her chest heaving with each angry breath. "I should've realized what was happening when you never came over to the house."

"But, Marian, how could I? What would I say to your father?"

"You could ask permission to court his daughter."

One corner of Frank's mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. "And of course your father would've accepted me with open arms. I'm just the man the reverend Cooper would want for his only child—a salesman who appeared on his doorstep one day."

She stamped her foot. "You're the man I love, Frank Robertson. Isn't that enough?"

Oh, Marian, darling, he wanted to say, you're such a sweet child, with your dreams of romance, flowers, candlelight. At least your father understands marriage requires more than that.

His lips tightened. Would this widower give her the romance she needed? Or was he just looking for a drudge to care for his house?

"Marian, does Applethwaite have any children?"

She nodded against his shirtfront. "Two boys. Father says they're absolute angels."

Frank grimaced. Usual y when two boys were described as angels, they were either the exact opposite or dead bores. He couldn't see Marian mothering either of them. No doubt these boys were hel ions and the reason their father was going farther afield to find a wife.

"Marian, when is he coming?"

She must have sensed the change in him because when she spoke, her voice sounded stronger. "The end of August. His sister wil be visiting him and he's leaving the boys with her."

A sure sign that the boys weren't angels. The man was smart; he didn't plan to ruin his prospects with his friend's daughter by bringing the future stepsons with him.

"Al right." He bent down until his face was level with hers. "Dry your eyes and go home. Don't say anything to upset your father but don't agree to the marriage, either."

She nodded and blinked several times. "What wil you do, Frank?"

He wasn't sure. But he couldn't stand the idea of her with another man.

Her hand brushed against his cheek. "I do love you, Frank."

He kissed her lips, then turned her toward the road."Go home and stop worrying about this. Everything will work out."

He watched her walk down the road, her shoulders drooping and her pace slow. His heart thudded in his chest.

Short of marrying her himself, what could he do to save her from Applethwaite or someone else like him?

Disgusted with her father, he climbed the stairs and entered bis smal bedroom. When he sat down on the bed, a piece of paper rustled under his leg. He stared at the words his mother had written. Come home.

Home. He could pack his bags and catch the next train north. By tomorrow night, he could be back with his family, sleeping in his own room, eating his mother's cooking. He could leave the traveling life, go to work for his father.

He leaned against the headboard, hands clasped behind his neck. If he went home with a wife, his father would have to see him as a man. He could rescue Marian and, at the same time, provide himself with a way to convince his father he'd grown up.

The next afternoon, he ran down the street as soon as the feed store closed. He bathed quickly, washing away the smel of grain and smoothing down his thick hair. Dressed in his new suit, he walked over to the Coopers' house, his back straight and his lips clamped together.

Marian answered the door; when she saw him, her hand flew to her throat. "Frank, what are you doing here?"

"I need to see your father, Marian."

Her eyes widened. He tapped one finger against her lips. "Trust me, Marian."

She nodded and led him into the parlor. A few minutes later, her father joined him. "Wel , young man, Marian tel s me you've requested a few minutes of my time. What would you like to talk about?"

Frank took a deep breath. Now that the moment had arrived, he didn't know what to say. He swal owed more than once before the words came out.

"Sir, I would like to marry your daughter."

The words were soft but their effect was the same as if he'd shouted them. Reverend Cooper advanced on Frank, his normal y placid features distorted. Frank took an involuntary step away from the fury in the older man's face, then forced himself to stand stil .

"Marry my daughter? How dare you? After the hospitality we've shown you, welcoming you into our home, finding you a job. Why, I should throw you from this house!"

Reverend Cooper strode around the room, hands clenched into fists at his sides, body rigid. Afraid to move, Frank watched in awe. He'd been prepared for some anger when Reverend Cooper realized what he wanted but he hadn't been ready for the extent of the older man's rage.

Reverend Cooper stopped by the window, his shoulders heaving. "I suppose my daughter told you about the proposal from Martin Applethwaite," he said without turning around.

"Yes, sir."

"And no doubt you have some romantic idea of saving her from this fate. "The man's words were heavy with sarcasm.

"That's not my only reason for proposing."

"No, I'm sure it's not." Reverend Cooper whirled around, his eyes narrowed and his hands stil clenched at his sides. "She isn't pregnant, is she?"

Frank gasped and his own eyes narrowed. "No, sir," he snapped. "You insult your daughter by implying she could be."

Cooper's lips were pressed tight. "At least that's one worry I won't have when she goes to Applethwaite."

Frank took a deep breath, trying to restrain his anger. If he could calmly convince this man that he was the right choice for his daughter...

"Sir, Marian doesn't want to marry Applethwaite. She loves me and wants to marry me."

"And you? Do you love her?"

A sneer fol owed the word love. Frank stared at the man, then slowly nodded. "Yes, I do, sir. And I'll do everything in my power to make her happy."

"Happy! Bah!" Reverend Cooper turned back to the windows and placed one hand against the glass. "And what can you offer her? I Applethwaite is a respected member of his community, a man already settled with a lovely home and two boys. What do you have?"

"I may not have a home yet, but Marian and I don't need 1 much. We'11 make our own way."

Reverend Cooper shook his head. "Young love. Do you have " any idea how many couples I've counseled after young love disappears? You barely know each other and have little in common. You breeze into town one day, see a girl who catches your eye, and fancy i you're in love." He swung around, his hands more relaxed. "I'm ' doing you a favor, young man. Pack your bags and leave tonight. My daughter wil cry for a few days and then, when Applethwaite j shows up with his offer, she'll be happy to marry him."

Frank scowled at him. "Is that what you want for your daughter? A marriage without love?"

"I want my daughter to be secure." He waved his hand around the room. "I'm old, Mr. Robertson, and I won't be here forever. With Applethwaite, my daughter will be cared for. She won't have to worry about her next meal."

"I can take of her," Frank said stubbornly.

"How? You live hand-to-mouth. You came into town with al 1 your belongings in one bag. Have you even saved a penny?"

Frank thought of al the money he'd sent to his mother. He would've had a tidy nest egg if he'd kept that money. But his father was stingy, and Frank had assumed he'd have years to start saving for himself.

His pride held him back from saying this. If the reverend had suggested they talk, man to man, about Frank's prospects, his ability J to care for Marian, he would've happily explained where his earnings had gone. But he would not let the man reduce him to begging.

"I forbid my daughter to marry you, Robertson." Reverend Cooper's voice was low and gruff. "Leave my house now and get out of town tonight."

As Frank listened, the old man's threat registered deep in his brain. He spun around and slammed out of the room.

He yanked open the front door, which crashed against the entryway wall. Behind him, he could hear Reverend Cooper's furious voice cal ing for his daughter and wife. A couple stood on the sidewalk in front of the house; Frank brushed past them without an apology.

Once at Widow Bartlett's house, he went over the confrontation again, pacing the long hal way. How dare that man refuse him! Who was he, anyway? Nothing but a smal -town minister. And Frank had plenty of prospects.

Wasn't his father a respected businessman in Davenport, Iowa? Why, this little vil age would fit in one street of Frank's hometown.

His breathing more normal, he sank onto a low bench and buried his head in his hands. After the scene in the parlor, he wouldn't be al owed anywhere near Marian. She was probably locked in her room and Reverend Cooper was already informing the community of his edict. With his local influence, he'd be able to destroy Frank's reputation. If Frank didn't leave-town tonight...

He would leave town. He'd pack up and leave on the next train. And Marian would be with him.

*****

"I'm going over to see G.G. and Grandpa." Hannah stopped outside the guest room that her brother used during visits to their grandmother. "You coming?"

"I can't." He was digging through his suitcase. "I'm supposed to mow the lawn today."

"Fine. Just don't tel Grandma where I am."

"What's with the secrecy?" He tugged on the worn T-shirt he had unearthed. "And what are you going to tel Grandma when she asks why you're taking her car?"

"I'm not taking her car." She held up a purple bicycle helmet.

"I'm riding Mom's old bike. It's not that far. And the exercise wil be good for me."

He fol owed her into the garage, where a dusty bike leaned against one wal .

Preston pul ed the lawn mower out to the driveway. "You could mow for me—get your exercise that way."

"Nice try." She fastened the helmet and hopped on the bike. "I should be back before you finish mowing."