The Willows (8 page)

Gwen should be thrilled, for these were
words she wanted to hear, but for some reason, Lance merely annoyed
her. “You never told me you were waiting. I thought you had given
up on our marriage.”

“
You wound me.” He turned to
stare out over the rail. “Did you think I could ever forget our
oath that we’d never be parted?”

Staring at his stiff profile,
remembering that valve, she recalled a few other things as well.
“You left New Orleans right after daddy said we couldn’t marry. I
was the one waiting alone, with the definite impression that
marriage was the last thing you want to for me.”

He turned to her then. “Darling’, you
miss understood.”

“
All our friends said you
could ill afford to marry a pauper.”

“
If money mattered to me,
why did I wait for you? I could have found an heiress, but I sat
tight, waiting on my Gwen, praying for the day she’d come home to
us. To me.”

“
I am home now,
Lance.”

She found all the longing
she could ask for in his gaze.
Throw
caution to the winds
, she pleaded
silently;
take me in your arms and kiss
away my doubts and worries.

But he merely sigh as he took her
hands. “And now that you’re here, I shall find some way to gain
your father’s approval. If we stay patients, he will come around,
and then we can be together always.”

Though she stared at Lance, it was
another face saw and her mind, his features intense and compelling
as he kissed her. The man from the docks might be a rude and
uncivilized lout, but he knew what he wanted, and how to take it.
If he decided to marry her, he’d do so at once, and there’d be
nothing her daddy could do to stop them.

But that was absurd, for the man
clearly did not want her. He cannot have made it any planer that he
thought her a silly fool.

“
You may find your daddy has
changed, too,” Lance said he sighed her, startling her out of her
thoughts. “Indeed, time has forced him to change his mind about a
good many things.”

It was an odd thing to say, but before
Gwen could question him, Edith glided over to join them, twirling a
frilly parasol over her shoulder. Her cousin looked so cool and
fresh in her ice-blue linen, Gwen felt more a frump than ever. Wait
until we get to the Willows, she thought; daddy will make certain I
never again suffer for the loss of those trunks.

“
We will be stopping soon at
Belle Oaks.” Edith laid a hand on lance’s arm. “I hope your mama
will appreciate how lucky she is to have you back home. We
certainly shall be missing your company.”

Lance turned to her with a broad smile.
“I do hope you mean that, for I won’t be getting off at Bella Oaks.
Your father has invited me to dine at the Willows, and how could I
refuse? It’s not every day a man has the honor of escorting such
lovely ladies.”

Though he beamed at them both, Edith
soon monopolized his attention. Gwen found it positively sickening,
the way her cousin simpered up at him, and any other time, and
she’d have taken it as a challenge. Today, she felt to warm and
worn and irritable to flirt with anyone.

It was the heat, she told herself.
After the cool, bracing weather of Boston. It would take time to
adjust to the enervating stupor of the Louisiana sun. Once she had
her new clothes-an armoire full of Muslins and cottons-she would be
simpering, too.

The Willows, thought with a sigh as a
wave of homesickness washed over her. Her thoughts drifted back to
happier times, when mama was still alive. Oh, parties they had
been. The house had been lit up so many lanterns that their guests,
coming from all along the river, claimed the Willows beckoned like
a glittering palace.

Even the morning after, with the guests
all abed and the lamps extinguished, it’s had still seemed
fairytale castle to Gwen. With its stately lines and tall, graceful
columns, she’d always thought the Willows a home fit for a king. It
was her father’s domain, where mother was Queen, and Gwen would
forever remain their precious little Princess.

In her mind, she envisioned her
homecoming. It was too early for candles, but her clever daddy
found some way to mark the occasion as special. He’d be waiting on
the dock, tall and proud and eager as he watched her disembark, and
all the way to the house he’d regale her with his plans. There
would be a homecoming ball, of course, and with it a new dress of a
silk so fine and delicate, every girl from here to Baton Rouge
would faint from envy.

Upon it reaching the house, daddy would
clap his hands and the servants would surround and greet her, all
chattering at once. Smiling benevolently, daddy would order them to
take her trunks and led her upstairs for a rest before
dinner.

And for her first meal, they’d have
shrimp and crab gumbo, a dish Gwen had been hankering for ever
since leaving for Boston. My, but her taste buds were watering
already, just thinking about the amazing seafood there servants
packed into the dish. For desserts, they would bake berry pie, big
juicy fruit picked fresh from the garden.

Engulfed in her fantasy, Gwen failed to
realize they’d stopped at the Willows’ dock until Edith impatiently
pointed it out to her. “I declare Gwyneth,” he finished off, “you
can be quite the flightiest creature, when you’re in one of your
daydreams.”

She and Lance left, causing Gwen to
redden, but went on uncle Jervis stepped up to join them, Lance
instantly sober. Turning to Gwen, he offered his arm. “Perhaps I
best help you off the boat,” he said, flashing his most endearing
smile. “It’d be a crying shame to have our Gwen trip and hurt
herself on her first day home.”

Though miffed, Gwen took the support he
offered, finding herself grateful for it as they walked to the
house. There was no daddy standing on the dock; indeed, the dock
itself didn’t seem to be standing all that well. It must had taken
a beating in the last storm, why hadn’t the servants repaired it?
With yes soon arriving for her home coming ball, they couldn’t have
such a shoddy structure for landing. Why, the talk would live on
for weeks.

To her added dismay, the dock wasn’t
alone in showing wear. As they passed by the garden from which the
plantation got its name, she found mothers prized roses choked by
weeds. Clearly unintended for years, every bush was either dead or
in the process of dying.

Changes
. On the heels of that thought, she recalled Mrs. Tibbs
warning about the hardships she’d have to bear. No, she insisted
silently, there were reasons for this neglect, and the instant she
saw her daddy, he would explain them. No doubt he become so
preoccupied with his plantation, he let parts of the plantation
slide, things mama used to oversee.

Such neglect stop. His win was now
home, she’d hasten to assure him, and she’d come home to help. She
saw herself organizing the servants as mama had done, rushing about
the place with energy and vigor, every inch the mistress-and
lady-Amanda McCloud had been.

As she marched toward the house, she
ignored the tangle of weeds lining the cherries shaded drive.
Tripping twice in the roots, she insisted it didn’t matter, that it
would be set to write as soon as she talked with her
daddy.

And optimism somewhat soured when they
reach the house, and she found no daddy waiting on the porch steps,
either. Their steamboat had sounded its horn long ago; John would
have to be deaf, blind, and witless not to know she’d
arrived.

But then, perhaps he felt it unsafe to
wait here, since the porch steps seemed even less reliable than the
dock. To her surprise, Uncle Jervis stepped casually over the
missing bottom board and, without another word, went on
inside.

What had happened to her beloved
Willows? The house had not seen a paint brush in years, and what
little paint remained on its weathered boards flaked and peeled. A
shudder, likewise stripped of color, dangled disconsolately from a
second floor window. The way it move, it must bang against the
walls and any good wind, yet nothing had been done to either fix or
remove it.

So one should tame the oaks, she
thought, before their branches scraped more shingles from the roof.
And something must be done with the wisteria, twining up through
the gallery railing to the second floor. It made the house look
like a prisoner about to be choked.

Stepping blithely over the
broken step, Edith followed her father into the house. The fact
that neither her cousin nor uncle found anything amiss proved that
this state of decay was no recent occurrence.
Oh daddy, what’s happened?
Gwen
thoughts with a catch in her throat.

At her side, Lance padded her arm to
console her as he led her into the house. “Be brave, my love.
Whatever you face, I am here at your side. Somehow, we shall get
through this together.”

His words held such a depressing tone,
she half expected to find an ogre waiting inside the door, but only
Homer, father’s personal servant and valet, stood in the hallway.
How old and stopped the service had become; like the house, Homer
had age for more than the years to warrant.

She studied the grand entrance in which
mama had once taken such pride. The oak banister on the wide and
curving stairway hadn’t been polished in months, and the dust was
so strong, Gwen was reluctant stand still of fear it settled down
and cover her.

Uncle Jervis was sorting through the
mail on the hall table, with Edith trying to hide the fact that she
was looking over his shoulder. The way they frowned in unison seem
to indicate and unwelcome letter.

“
Another bill?” Scratched
out a voice from behind.

They snapped to attention, both clearly
uncomfortable as he turned to face the newcomer. It was a good
thing Jervis called out, “John” for without the name, Gwen might
never have recognized her father.

A sudden tightness with her throat at
the site of his once proud frame hunched over a sturdy cane. The
years had been even crueler to daddy then to her uncle. Where his
brother had whited in girth, John had narrowed to near extinction.
A soiled white shirt hung on his shoulders like a wilted flag of
surrender, and his tightly clenched trousers could well fit another
man inside. Similar lines of dissipation appeared on his face, but
with Jervis, the pockets of fat on daddy they seemed etched into
the bone.

He was such a far cry from the man Gwen
remembered, the man she’d imagined would be waiting for her on the
dock, she half expected everyone to laugh say they’d played a cruel
joke.

But no one said a word; they barely
moved, everyone waited for what daddy would say or do
next.

He leaned heavily on the cane, eyeing
each of them in turn. No one actually squirmed, but neither did
they take the look well, fidgeting like bad children caught at a
prank. When daddy turn to her, Lance removed his arm, leaving Gwen
alone under her father’s scrutiny.

She smiled tentatively, but nothing
came to life in his expression. Stared at her as if she were but
another dust covered statue in his hallway. “I see you brought her
home,” the rasped, turning to his brother. “I expect you to see to
it that she stays out of trouble.”

He turned then to Homer, demanding his
bottle of bourbon before hobbling off awkwardly to his
study.

He snubbed
me
? Gwen thought. After all this time,
against all her hopes and expectations, her own father refuse to
knowledge her?

Her mind flashed back to that night
five years ago, as they’d stared at each other over her mother’s
lifeless body. His gaze had become shuttered then, too, as if he
meant to close the doors to his mind, to his heart.

“
Daddy,” she yelled out,
even as she cried out to him that night, but once again he ignored
her. She winced as his study door closed, feeling as if he’d
slammed it shut in her face.

Sound seemed to bring local Jervis
instantly to life. “Ah, well, it would appeared John is in one of
his moods.”

One of his
moods
? Biting her lip, fusing to cry, Gwen
seized the explanation. Moods were temporary things, a mere case of
feeling poorly, and no wonder, in this heat. As soon as daddy was
rested, why, she did that her last hairpin he’d give her a welcome
any girl could wish for. She was his only child; of course, he’d be
happy to see here.

Uncle Jervis turned to Lance. “I hope
my brother’s mood won’t stop you from staying for dinner
tonight?”

Reclaiming Gwen’s arm, Lance smiled
down at her. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

“
Good.” Jervis clapped his
hands, licking his lips as if he were sitting down now for the
meal. “We will assemble in the front parlor at seven, dinner at
eight. In the meantime,” he added, smiling at Lance as he gestured
down the hall, “you and I can indulge in the chat, while the girls
retire upstairs. I feel certain Gwen will wish to rest after this
excitement.”

Both men turn quickly to Gwen, their
eagerness making it hard to voice a protest. And in truth, she was
tired. Just climbing steps to her room seem to require and enormous
effort, especially since it seemed she must do so with her
cousin.