The Glorious Prodigal (35 page)

“I don’t know,” Stuart said quietly. “I guess it’s been in my mind that you’ve forgotten me—or tried to.” He could not pull away from her, for something about her provoked a challenge in him. She seemed to be complex and unfathomable, but he noticed that her breathing had quickened, and color had spread across her cheeks.

“I’ve been thinking of so many things, Stuart,” she said.
“I don’t know how to speak of them, but I haven’t forgotten the good things.” Even as she spoke, Leah was conscious of the attractiveness of this man that had so captured her heart when she was but a girl. Without volition the thought came to her of all the love they had shared in their early days. He had the power to stir her that no other man did, and now she dropped her head for a moment and was still.

Stuart had always known she was a woman of great pride, and now he saw that pride had softened, or so it seemed. She had a temper that rarely showed itself, but it occurred to him suddenly that she was the kind of woman who, if necessary, could shoot a man down and not go to pieces afterward. It was this strange mixture of gentleness and courage that attracted him to her, and now without thinking, he reached over and put his arm about her. She leaned against him, looked up, and he saw her eyes were enormous, and her lips were trembling. Moved deeply, he lowered his lips and kissed her. She wrapped both arms around his neck, and he felt the sweetness of her soft lips. The emotions he felt at that moment seemed to lift him beyond himself.

As for Leah, she could not pull away, though some distant warning, far off and feeble, sounded within her. The strength of his arms was the security she longer for, and the demands of his kiss reminded her of the love she had prayed for for years. Finally she pulled back and whispered, “I’m your wife, Stuart.”

Stuart Winslow could hardly breathe for a moment, then he stood up and pulled her to her feet. He lifted her in his arms and took one step. The twisting motion aroused a fiery pain in his bruised ribs, and he gasped and took a step backward. The inside of his left leg hit the couch and threw him off balance. Still holding Leah, he fell to the floor, knocking over the lamp with a tremendous crash. The fall shocked him and drove the breath out of his body.

“Stuart, are you all right?”

Stuart tried to answer but could not for a moment. As he struggled to get up with Leah’s help, a voice came.

“Are you all right, Mama?”

Leah straightened up, and her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, saw Merry standing in the doorway with her blanket tucked over her shoulder.

“Yes, we’re all right, darling.”

“What’s wrong? I heard something.”

Leah suddenly could not help giggling. “It’s all right. Your father just . . . bumped over a lamp.”

Stuart was getting up slowly, trying to catch his breath, and he was aware that Leah was laughing at him. For a moment his feelings were hurt, and then he saw the humor of it. “It’s all right. I’m just a little clumsy.”

“Come to bed, Mommy. I’m getting cold.”

“All right, dear. I’m coming.”

Leah left Stuart standing beside the fallen lamp. She gave him one look that he could not interpret and said demurely, “Good night, Stuart.”

Why, she’s laughing at me,
Stuart thought, and then he said as they disappeared, “Good night—and sweet dreams.”

Leah went at once back to Merry’s bedroom, thankful that Raimey had not awakened. She got into bed with Merry, and almost immediately the child went to sleep without another word, clasping her favorite blanket.

But Leah could not sleep. Stuart’s kisses had stirred her, and although she tried to ignore it, she knew she longed for love as she had not for many years. She wanted to put the thought away, but her lonely heart made demands that she could not ignore. She grew still and thought about what had happened.
I should have told him more. That I was sorry,
she thought.
I should have asked for his forgiveness. I never have, and I’ve never fully given him mine, which is wrong of me.

These thoughts ran through her mind, and for the first time, she saw clearly what her unforgiveness and rejection had done. And in the silence of the room, with the warmth
of Merry pressed against her, Leah began to pray, “Oh, God, I’ve sinned against you—and against my husband. . . .”

****

Stuart heard the door open, saw the crack of light that issued forth, and suddenly stiffened in the bed. The door closed, and once again the room was only bathed by the silver moonlight that fell on the carpet from the single window. He felt the bed sag and then a warmth and a fullness pressed against him.

“Stuart,” she said. “I want you to forgive me if you can. I’ve been horrible to you, and I’m so sorry.”

Stuart turned and pulled her close, and as she pressed against him, she began to cry. He listened as she told him in broken sobs how she had failed as a wife, and when he kissed her, he found her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Can you ever forgive me for the shame I brought to you and the children?” Stuart said, and his voice cracked.

As the tears fell freely, Leah held him tighter and said, “I forgive you.”

He began to speak about his love and how it had grown stronger, and finally he said, “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, Leah, and I’ll love you until the day I die.”

The words were a healing balm to her heart, for they were what Leah had longed to hear. Her heart told her that she was hearing the truth from this man who had so hurt her, and as she rested in his arms, she knew without a doubt that his heart was now finally hers. And as she accepted him, she knew that she was a wife in a way that she had never been before. She moved against him then, holding him tightly and whispering, “I love you, husband. . . .”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A Woman Scorned

A brisk spring breeze ruffled Raimey’s hair, tossing it over into his eyes. He pushed it back and stared out at the mass of squealing, grunting, young pigs that bumped up against his legs, almost upsetting him. There seemed to be a sea of them as he held the bucket of feed high and made his way to the trough. Emptying the feed, he stepped back, and the pigs, grunting and shoving one another, pushed their snouts in and gobbled the grain down.

“Dad, I hate pigs!”

Stuart, who had carried two large buckets filled with feed, looked at Raimey and grinned. “I don’t,” he observed. “I think about what all these pigs are going to do, and I just about love them. As a matter of fact,” he said with humor sparkling in his eyes, “it’s all I can do to keep from picking these little rascals up and kissing them right on the snout.”

Raimey looked up startled and saw the humorous light in his father’s eyes. “Aw, Dad, you don’t mean that! Nobody could love an old pig!”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Stuart moved over to another trough and emptied one bucket, then another until he had completed the job. “That’s all you get for now, you greedy rascals!” He moved back, giving the suckling pigs plenty of room, but their attention was all on the feed. When he reached the fence and stepped outside, he waited for Raimey to exit, then closed the gate. Moving over to lean on the side of the
rail fence, he fixed his eyes on the pigs, saying, “Just think about what all those pigs are going to do for us.”

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“Well, you know your mother’s been struggling with that old broken-down wood stove for a long time. The thing is about to fall apart. Those fellows out there”—Stuart pointed at the mass of pigs that fought and scrambled over the food—”are going to buy her the best stove made in the United States of America.”

“What do you mean? How are they going to buy anything?”

Stuart, however, paid him no heed. “I’ll tell you what else they’re going to do. You know that saddle you’ve been looking at down at the store?”

“Sure, Dad. You mean the fancy one?”

“That’s the one. Well, these pigs are going to buy you that saddle, Raimey.”

Raimey’s eyes grew large, and he said, “Really! When?”

“Well, they’ve got to grow up first. They’re just little fellows. But they’re going to do more than that. They’re going to paint the house. They’re going to buy us a new truck. And one of these days you’re going to go off to college. And these young piglets are going to send you off in style.”

Stuart turned and put his arm over Raimey’s shoulder. It was an action he could not have done a few months earlier, but he had discovered that the young boy was starved for affection—especially for the affection of a father. He felt Raimey lean in slightly toward him and grinned. “I know you are embarrassed about being a pig farmer, but I’m not. As a matter of fact, pigs are a lot smarter than horses in a lot of ways.”

“But they’re so dirty and greedy.”

“That’s just the nature of a pig, son, to eat like that. As a matter of fact, I’ve seen you eat like that a few times.”

“Ah, Dad, you didn’t!”

“When you bucked into that blackberry pie last night, I expected you to start snorting and nosing into it just like those
pigs are doing right now.” Stuart laughed at the expression on Raimey’s face and then squeezed his shoulder. “Anyway, these pigs are going to get your mother a lot of new things that she deserves.”

The two continued talking as they walked around the farm, and Raimey stayed very close to his father. Finally a frown crossed his face. “Dad, what about this war over the water?”

“It’s getting bad, son. The Germans have declared total submarine warfare.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’re going to sink every ship they see, and they’re bound to sink ships with Americans on them. They’ve done it once and if they do it again, we’ll have to fight.”

They crossed the pig lot, and Raimey was silent for a moment. Finally he looked up, anxiety etching his features. “Will you have to go fight, Dad?”

Stuart shook his head, a glum expression on his face. “No. That’s one of the penalties of being an ex-convict. You can’t serve once you have a prison record. I’d go if I could, but I won’t be able to.”

Raimey considered his father’s words, and then suddenly his attention was caught by a car speeding along the road in front of the house. “I don’t know that car.”

Stuart watched the car pull to a stop and shook his head. “I don’t know it either.”

They saw a man get out of the car, and Stuart’s eyes narrowed. He said nothing, but when the man spotted him, he came toward him at once. He was a tall man with red hair and a pair of light blue eyes.

“Hello, Stuart,” he said, and a grin crossed his lips. “Got a letter for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an envelope and handed it over. His eyes watched carefully as Stuart glanced at the handwriting, then he grinned loosely. “Want me to take an answer back?”

“No.”

Raimey was surprised at the shortness of his father’s reply.
He knew something was wrong, but he would not ask. He watched as the man lifted a hand and laughed, saying, “Well, I’ve done my chore. Up to you now.” He went back to the car. After the car disappeared and was on its way down the road, Raimey said, “Aren’t you going to open it, Dad?”

It seemed that Stuart did not hear his son. He was staring at the handwriting, his face devoid now of humor and warmth. The sudden change in his father troubled Raimey, and he said no more.

Finally Stuart shook his shoulders together and said, “Son, would you go feed the cows? I’ve got to talk to your mother.”

“All right, Dad.”

Stuart stuck the envelope in his pocket, turned, and headed for the house. Raimey stood there watching him with a troubled expression as he walked off.

When Stuart entered the back door, he found Leah washing Merry’s hair. He took a seat and watched them for a moment.

“Stuart, we’re about out of rainwater, and the well water’s just too hard.”

“I’ll see if I can’t make it rain tomorrow.”

Leah glanced up and smiled. “You men are lucky. You can wash your hair with lye soap. There’s not enough of it to matter, but women are different. Aren’t they, honey?”

“Yes, they are.”

Merry was sitting on a tall stool in front of the kitchen sink. Now she laughed as she reached up and ran her hands through the suds. She had beautiful hair and loved to have it washed.

“Now bend over and let me rinse it, honey.”

Stuart watched as Leah rinsed Merry’s hair, then began to dry it with a fluffy towel.

“Why don’t you go in the living room and sit down in front of the fire? It’ll dry your hair quicker. Then I’ll brush it out for you.”

“All right, Mama,” Merry said. Jumping off the stool,
she went over to Stuart and said, “Will you have a tea party with me?”

“We’ll have to see, honey. I’ve got a lot to do. Maybe so.”

“All right.”

Leah smiled fondly after the girl and said, “She’s such a sweet child, isn’t she?”

Stuart ordinarily would have responded, but now he did not answer. Leah looked up with surprise and saw something in his face that drew her attention. Drying her hands, she came over and sat down beside him. “Is something wrong? Don’t you feel well?”

Without a word, Stuart reached into his pocket. He handed her the envelope and then fixed his eyes on her face. “This just came for me,” he said.

Taking the envelope, Leah looked at it, and a chill ran through her. She did not know the handwriting, but something about Stuart’s attitude told her that something was troubling him. “It’s a woman’s handwriting. Whose is it?”

“It’s Cora’s. I want you to open it.”

His words startled Leah. She could not understand Stuart, but instantly memories began to come back. A hardness came into her, for it had been difficult for her to forgive Cora for what she had done to her family. Now she said, “Why do you want me to open it?”

“I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, Leah.”

The words warmed Leah’s heart, and she reached over and took his hand. “You really want me to open it?”

“Yes.”

Leah opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and she said, “She wants to see you.” She pushed the sheet of paper toward Stuart, who shook his head. “Don’t you want to read it?”