The Glorious Prodigal (7 page)

After another long pause the door opened just half a crack, and a woman’s pale face appeared. “What do you want, Ace?”

“Let me in, Cora.”

“It’s too early. Go away.”

Ace Devainy wasted no time. He shoved at the door, forcing the woman to step backward. She was wearing a pink robe, and her face was rosy with agitation, though puffy with sleep. “You can’t come busting into my house like this! I’ll have the law on you!”

“Sure. You go call the sheriff, Cora,” Ace said easily. He had known Cora Langley for a long time. She had been the most attractive woman in the county. She was still beautiful, but her reputation was not good.

“What do you want?”

“Where’s Stuart?”

Cora’s face seemed to harden. “None of your business! Get out of here, Ace, if you don’t want trouble.”

Ignoring her, Ace simply brushed her aside and walked
down the hall. He opened one door and saw a bedroom with the bed made up. He was conscious that Cora was pulling at his arm, but he ignored her. Opening a door on the opposite side, he paused and then stepped inside and stared down at the man in the bed. “Get up, Stuart!” he said loudly.

Cora shoved herself past Ace and turned to face him. “What are you doing here, Ace? What Stuart does is none of your business!”

Stuart heard this last statement, for he had been half awakened by the knock at the door. Now he sat up and shook his head for a moment. His black hair hung down in his eyes, and his mouth had a sour pucker to it. “What are you doing here, Ace?” He was wearing a linen undershirt, and he shook himself and seemed to come more awake. “What’s the matter? Somebody sick?”

Ace had decided on his trip over that there would be no point in reasoning with Stuart. Now he simply stared at him and said coldly, “Get out of the bed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You heard me, Stuart. Get out of the bed. You’re going home.”

Anger flared in Stuart Winslow’s eyes. He was a man who hated to be controlled, and he glared at Devainy’s tall, lanky form. “Get out of here, Ace! I don’t want to hear any more.”

“You can go easy or you can go hard,” Ace said. “Make up your mind. But you’re going one way or the other.”

Anger flashed in Stuart’s dark eyes then. He threw back the covers and stood up, swaying for a moment, for he had a pounding headache. Still he advanced toward Ace and put his hand out and shoved against his chest. “Get out of here before I hurt you!”

Ace knew full well that he was no match for Stuart in a fight. He was tough enough himself, but Stuart’s blows were quick as a striking snake, and he had the muscle to put a man down with one blow.

“It’s time for you to go home to your wife.”

Guilt washed across Stuart’s face, and he shot a quick glance at Cora, who was standing back against the wall, her eyes wide. Perhaps because of that guilt Stuart was spurred to action. He yelled, “Get out of here, Ace! I’ll take care of my own family!” He reached forward and gave another shove, which drove Devainy backward, but his reaction times were slower than he had known. Quickly Ace pulled the blackjack out of his pocket before Stuart started swinging with those quick fists of his.

Stuart yelled, “Hey,” and raised his hand, but it was too late. The leather-covered weight struck him in the temple, and he knew nothing else.

“Stuart!” Cora screamed and came over to kneel beside him.

“If you want to help,” Ace said, “help me get his clothes on him.”

Cora began to curse him, but Ace paid her no more attention. As he struggled to get Stuart’s clothes on, he turned to Cora and said, “If you were a man,” he said, “I’d punch you out, Cora. Stuart’s got a good wife.”

“That’s his business and mine. Not yours.”

“Well, I’m making it mine today. Stay away from him. I thought you were going to marry Carter.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”

Knowing that there was no point arguing with the woman, Ace Devainy simply reached over and pulled Stuart’s legs fully off the bed, then he straightened him up to a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he stooped, pulled the limp body forward, lifted it over his shoulder, and rose suddenly. He turned toward the door with Stuart’s limp body dangling and left the house only vaguely aware of Cora’s voice screaming at him from what seemed to be a far distance. When he reached the wagon, he simply dumped the limp form of Winslow inside and was not overly concerned when he heard his friend’s head thump the bottom of the wagon. Climbing into the seat, he spoke to the horses, “Get up, Babe! Get up,
Hector!” and the two wheeled around, careened sharply, and then moved along practically at a gallop.

As soon as he had cleared the outskirts of Mapleton and was heading back toward Lewisville, Ace slowed the horses down to a brisk trot and held himself against the jolting of the frozen ruts. He was disturbed at what he had done, for he and Stuart had been friends since boyhood. He knew that this could end all that, and a deep regret washed through him. But he shrugged his shoulders and shook himself, saying, “A man’s got to grow up sometime, but it looks like Stuart won’t ever make it.”

****

The sun was three-quarters of the way across the sky when Devainy glanced back to see Winslow struggling to gain his feet. He had reached as far as his hands and knees and was shaking his head, which had a considerable-sized knot on it. “Whoa, up there, boys! Whoa, up there!” Ace commanded. When the wagon came to a halt, he turned and said, “You want to get in the front seat?”

Stuart slowly rose and stood for a moment in the bed of the wagon. He reached up and touched his head and then winced and looked at his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Devainy.

“All right,” he grunted. Moving carefully, he stepped over the seat and plunked himself down beside Ace.

“Get up!” Ace commanded, but he kept the horses to a fast walk. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Stuart sat there saying nothing for what seemed a long time. Finally he said, “Are you all right, Stuart?”

“I guess so.”

Stuart Winslow was having a hard time. He had trouble for a few moments remembering what had brought him to this place, and then he turned and said, “You hit me with something.”

“Blackjack.”

“What did you do that for, Ace?”

“Because you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

A dull flush rose on Stuart’s neck, and he could not meet Ace’s eyes. He turned his head forward and saw that they were almost at his farm. “Did she send you to get me, Ace?” he asked in a subdued tone.

“Merle came. I couldn’t let him get into trouble dragging you away from Cora’s house.”

Winslow had no answer for this. A deep feeling of shame flooded him, and he clamped his lips together and held on to the seat. His temples were beating as if someone were driving spikes through them, and he dreaded having to face Leah.

“You ought to know better than to fool around with Carter Simms’s woman.”

A hot answer leaped to Stuart’s lips, but he knew there was no proper response. As he sat there hanging on to the seat, the bile rising in his throat, he thought he was going to be sick and vomit, so he said nothing. Finally the wagon stopped in front of his door, and he caught a quick glimpse of Annie at the window looking out. She disappeared, and he finally managed to say, “Thanks, Ace.”

“Go see your wife. And it’s your anniversary, which you obviously don’t remember.”

“I . . . I guess it slipped up on me. I didn’t get her anything.”

Ace reached down beneath the seat and handed him a package. “Here. Give her this. I bought it for Ellie. You’re a sorry specimen, Stuart Winslow.”

Stuart turned to face Ace, and the man’s light blue eyes seemed to bore deep down into the cavern of his own depravity. He swallowed hard, then nodded and without another word got out. He swayed for a moment, clutching the package, and looked down at his soiled, wrinkled clothes. He did not turn, but he heard Devainy’s wagon drive away. Everything in him wanted to turn and run, but there was no running from his shame.

Moving slowly and carefully, Stuart mounted the steps and
paused for one moment with his hand on the doorknob.
Why did I do it?
he thought.
Ace should have shot me. I’d have deserved it.
Everything within him hated to have to face not only Leah but also Annie, whom he had seen glowering from the window. He had gone through this many times before; promising himself to behave, to stay away from Cora and other women, to stop drinking, to be a better husband to Leah. He thought of the child to come, and guilt and shame washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and opened the door. Annie stood in the hallway, her eyes fixed on him, her mouth turned down in a scowl. Avoiding her eyes, he moved down the hall and glanced to the left. He went to the bedroom. Closing the door, he turned to face Leah, who was in bed sitting up with a pillow bracing her. She was reading by the fading light that came through the window, and she closed the Bible and put it down by her side.

“Hello, Stuart,” she said quietly.

Stuart swallowed hard. His throat seemed as dry as dust, and the silence in the room was thick, almost palpable. From far away a rooster crowed, and then he heard the monotonous ticking of the clock. His tongue was thick, and his head was splitting open, but he moved over and pulled the rocking chair up and sat down beside his wife. “Sorry to be late, Leah,” he managed to get out as he put the package on the bed.

“What is it?” she asked.

Stuart realized with some confusion that he had no idea what was in the package. “Just a little gift,” he said. “Nothing much.”

Leah opened the package. She recognized the haggard look on Stuart’s face. He had been drinking again, and he smelled of stale perfume, and she knew he had been with some woman. Her fingers felt numb, and there was no joy in her as she removed the wrapping from the package. She saw a brooch with gold trim and a green stone inside and knew instantly that it was not a gift that he had picked out for her.

“Thank you, Stuart,” she said evenly.

Suddenly Stuart saw the tawdriness that he had allowed to creep into his life, and he could not keep silent. “I was drunk and Ace came to get me. He made me come home. That brooch was one he bought for Ellie.”

Leah looked into Stuart’s face and could still see the handsomeness that had stirred her a year ago, but now she saw a certain weakness that had left its mark. Perhaps it had always been there, but she had never recognized it until now. God had given him great gifts, a strong body, handsome features, but something was missing from him.
Perhaps it was what was missing from all men,
she thought suddenly. She looked into his tired face and saw his haunted eyes and quietly reached out and took his hand.

The touch of Leah’s hand on his seemed to hit Stuart Winslow like a blow. He was as guilty as a man could possibly be, and never in his life had he felt so low and worthless. He looked up with pure misery in his dark eyes and said, “I’m sorry, Leah.”

Leah tried to control the emotions that churned inside, but she did not want to confront him on their anniversary, so she said, “It’s all right, Stuart.”

“No, it’s not.” Stuart lowered his head and stared at the wedding band on her hand and then at the one on his own finger. “I feel like a ticket that someone’s bought and then lost on,” he said bitterly. “I’m a loser. You should never have married me, Leah.”

“It’ll be different, Stuart. When the baby comes, it’ll be different.”

Suddenly Stuart leaned forward, and she took his head and held it against her breast. “Things are going to change,” she whispered, “when the baby comes.” She tried to believe her own words as she felt the shaking of his shoulders, and a ray of hope sprang up. She had never seen him broken like this before, and she cried out, “Oh, Lord, make him different!”

CHAPTER FOUR

Cracks in a Marriage

“There’s a good boy!”

Leah laughed aloud as Raimey splashed vigorously, holding his fat fists clutched tightly together. He sent the soapy water in the large dishpan everywhere, and Leah turned her face to avoid getting soap in her eyes. “You are a water bug! That’s what you are.”

Raimey, at the age of five months, was fat and pink and lively. His dark blue eyes, so much like those of Stuart, looked up at her. He clutched his right fist even more tightly and struck himself in the face with it. “Yah!” he said in shocked surprise.

“That’s what you get when you hit yourself in the face, Raimey.”

Giving her baby a bath was one of the pleasures of motherhood for Leah. She had had a difficult pregnancy and an even more difficult delivery, but since the arrival of her new son, Leah had bloomed. Motherhood agreed with her, for even in the five-month period she had regained her figure almost completely and was healthier than she had ever been in her life, or so it seemed to her. Now as she soaked the baby’s silky skin while he splashed and chortled and grinned toothlessly, a thought came to Leah.

I’m like a beggar who only has a few things and is afraid to put them down for fear someone will steal them.
The thought startled her, and her smile disappeared as her mind continued to work.

It was a fanciful thought and a sobering one for Leah Winslow. Her treasures, she knew full well, were not jewelry or clothes or a house, but a husband, a child, and a family. And now as she began to work up a lather on Raimey’s hair, already as dark as his father’s, she thought of those aspects of her marriage that she could cherish. Since Stuart’s last escapade on their first anniversary, he had made an effort to change his ways, and she was grateful for that. But it seemed as though five months were as long as he could manage to stay sober. Even now he was beginning to be drawn away more and more to his old ways. And so Leah reminisced over the good memories and shoved the bad ones off into a dark corner of her mind. Some memories pleased her—the times Stuart was kind and thoughtful and loving. Indeed, there had been many moments like that which had made her happy and joyful after she had recovered from Raimey’s birth. It had been a time of joy for Leah such as she had never dreamed. Her cheeks had glowed, her eyes had sparkled, and everyone in the house and all of Stuart’s family and her friends at church had remarked at how wonderful it was that Stuart Winslow had at last grown up.