To Love and Honor (22 page)

“Well, Violet,” Josiah said. “I've taken you at your word. I've made my brother's son my heir. He's worked at Midwest Enterprises for several years, so he already knows much about the business, and by the time I die, he should be well qualified to handle my estate as I want it done. He already has three sons, so the family operation should be ensured for many years to come.”

Violet smiled warmly. “I'm very pleased about that. I didn't enjoy refusing you, but the Conley dynasty held no fascination for me. I'm used to a simpler life. I would have been unhappy.”

Josiah sighed. “As I've told you before, you remind me of my Rachel, and I would have liked you in my home. But,” he added with a wry smile, “she was meek most of the time, though occasionally she refused me, too, and did what she wanted to do.” A softer light came into his eyes as he reflected on the wife he had loved, and he took an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat. “I didn't know I had a con
science,” he said, “but I apparently do, because I will no longer withhold from you this letter discovered in Rachel's possessions after her death.”

He handed Rachel the business-size envelope labeled, “To my granddaughter, Violet.” As she stared at the envelope with wondering eyes, Josiah lifted a large jewelry chest from the case he carried—it was the one Violet had seen at his home in Kansas City. “You were also mentioned in her will. Rachel wanted you to have her jewelry.”

Josiah opened the chest, and placed it on the coffee table. Sunlight coming through the window sparkled brightly on a vast display of diamonds, rubies, gold and silver jewelry. Violet picked up the ornate necklace that she had worn to the reception in the Conley mansion. Noting that Violet was speechless, Josiah said, “Perhaps you will have a daughter to inherit these some day. Many of these items have been in Rachel's family since the War Between the States.”

“My life-style doesn't call for jewelry of this magnitude, but I can assure you that I will cherish the gift and keep it for the next generation.” She took a letter opener from the table and slit the seal on the envelope, holding the letter so that Roger could see the message as she read silently.

At the bottom of the letter was the name of a bank in Saint Louis and an account number. The trust fund was in the name of Violet Conley, with Rachel Conley as trustee until her death.

“Do you know what the letter says?” Violet asked her grandfather.

“I haven't stooped to reading other people's letters,” he said tersely.

Violet handed him the letter, and although his face remained impassive as he read, when he finished, he had to clear his throat several times before he spoke.

“I suspected something of the sort because when we settled her estate, a great deal of money was gone, but it was her money and she had the right to do what she wanted with it.”

Roger and Ruth sat without speaking, but Roger laid his hand on Violet's shoulder.

“Do you know the size of this trust fund?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Josiah said, “but it won't be
difficult for you to find out by calling the bank and giving that account number. I would judge there could be upward of a quarter of a million dollars.”

Violet gasped. “It seems I'm bound to have money thrust upon me whether I want it or not.” She looked at Roger. “What should I do?”

“Whatever you want, but if you're thinking this bequest will make any difference in our relationship, it won't. Since this is a trust fund, I imagine you'll find out that it's one that passes from one generation to another, and you will receive the interest rather than the capital itself. Admittedly, even that will make our lives a lot easier, but not a large enough amount to intimidate me.” He looked at Josiah, who nodded.

“I'm sure that is the case—Rachel had a good head on her shoulders, and she had no idea how Violet would turn out. It's doubtful that she would have handed the money to her carte blanche.”

“It seems I'm destined to have a rich wife, no matter how hard I've fought it,” Roger said, and he playfully ruffled Violet's short hair. “You've turned down two fortunes to marry me, but I remember the old cliché, ‘The third time is the charm.' I believe you're justified in accepting this one.”

Josiah lifted his shaggy eyebrows. “
Two
fortunes?”

“Besides what she would have gained as your heir, she could have had Larry Holland for a husband.”

“Oh,” Josiah said, looking at Violet with what she considered added respect.

“Well, I can't be worried about that now,” Violet said. “I'm getting married in a few hours, and money is my least concern.”

Josiah rose. “Then I've discharged my duty, so I'll leave now.”

Hesitantly, Violet said, “Would you like to stay for the wedding? You are welcome.”

“I had hoped you would ask. I'll be happy to attend.”

“And I'll be happy to have you there. Aunt Ruth is the only other relative I have. Six o'clock at First Community Church.”

With tender eyes, Violet watched Josiah walk toward his car. “It seems that I won't be able to forget the Conleys, after all,” Violet said.

“Who would want to forget a grandmother like her?” Roger responded, as he tapped the letter Violet held. “I believe you inherited more of her characteristics than just the physical features. She must have had a great heart.”

“This recognition erases all of the feelings of rejection I had in my childhood. I was loved more than I knew. And I'll admit that I am relieved not to have constraint between my grandfather and me. Regardless of what he did to my mother, I've forgiven him—it's unchristian to do otherwise. I hope this works out all right.”

Roger drew her close. “I believe that Josiah is convinced that you will not give in to his demands and that he respects you for it.” He smiled and said teasingly, “I believe you inherited a little of Josiah's stubbornness, too. And as far as I'm concerned, there's no need for you to be estranged from him.”

 

As Violet and Misty waited in the church office for the processional to begin, the soloist's rendition of Rodgers and Hammerstein's
You'll Never Walk Alone
wafted into the room.

The soloist sung of the dark days that would come
into each life, but in spite of storms, rain or dashed dreams, the lyrics gave assurance that one need never walk alone.

Violet knew about storms all right—for the past several months it seemed as if she weathered one storm only to be struck by another one, but even in the midst of her most discouraging moments, she hadn't given up hope. She had relied often on a passage from the book of Hebrews, “Hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast.”

What a sense of security! Hand in hand with Roger, and both of them holding God's hand, she
would
never walk alone.

The song ended, and Misty prepared to enter the sanctuary. Violet went to her, straightened the white rose corsage on her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. Tears glistened in Misty's eyes. “It will be nice to have a mother again. Please make my daddy happy,” she whispered.

“I'll do my best, Misty,” Violet vowed. “I love him very much.”

When Misty stepped out into the hallway, Violet took one last look in the mirror and adjusted Rachel's diamond-and-ruby necklace. The long pendant earrings dangled almost to her shoulders. The jewelry set off her gown to perfection, and today she appreciated this link to her paternal heritage—clouded though it was, she could no longer deny her Conley lineage. Besides, she knew Josiah would be pleased if she wore Rachel's jewels.

Instead of the traditional wedding march, Violet had asked the organist to play the hymn, “Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us,” as she walked down the aisle—alone. She had never been more conscious of her lack
of parents than she was now. A woman should have her mother and father on her wedding day. Perhaps if she had known ahead of time that her grandfather would be there, she might have asked him to give her away, but that could have been too memorable of the time when he rejected her when she was a child.
Stop it!
she mentally chided herself. No morbid thoughts today.

As she walked slowly, the delicate train flowing behind her, Violet looked forward and saw her new family waiting expectantly. Standing proudly by his father, Jason was as handsome as Roger. Misty smiled invitingly, and Violet didn't feel any older than this girl who would soon be her daughter. When they had posed for a family portrait prior to the ceremony, Roger had joked, “People will accuse me of taking another daughter rather than a wife. But having so many children around should restore my youthful vigor.”

“As if you have ever lost any,” Jason reprimanded his father. “Get serious, Dad.”

The aisle looked long, but she knew that when the recessional was played, the aisle would seem short because Roger would walk by her side—she would never be alone again. Their glances held as she walked the few remaining steps. Roger's hand was trembling when he reached for hers, and she gave him a tremulous smile.

Pastor Tom's service was brief, and it seemed a very short time until they were kneeling, hand in hand, listening to the soloist sing “The Lord's Prayer.”

Beneath the words of the soloist, Roger prayed quietly, “Lord, we love each other, but we love you more. We will need your daily guidance to be loving,
considerate spouses and good parents. We praise you for bringing us together.”

Violet echoed his “Amen,” as the soloist finished the song.

The two-hundred-seat sanctuary was filled to capacity, Violet noted as they started down the aisle as man and wife. Janie sat between Clifford and Alta Skeen, all of them smiling, not only for Violet's gladness, but for their own happiness of becoming a family. Josiah sat on the rear seat, and he nodded approvingly as they passed him.

During the reception when Josiah reached the wedding party, he leaned over to kiss Violet's cheek. Tears glistened in his eyes. “Today has taken me back fifty years,” he said. “You are so much like my Rachel. She was beautiful on our wedding day.” He gently placed a hand on the diamond choker. “Thanks for wearing that. You wouldn't have known, but Rachel also wore it at our wedding.”

Josiah turned to Roger. “You've made a fine choice. She looks like her grandmother, and if she has my Rachel's spirit, she will make a wonderful wife.”

“I'll care for her as if she were a rare treasure, and she is one to me,” Roger said as he returned Josiah's handclasp.

“I have to leave now for I must be back in Kansas City tonight, but you do have my best wishes. I hope you will not cut me off completely, and that I can contact you occasionally.”

Violet looked at Roger, and he responded, “We're moving into a new home in the Colonial Acres subdivision, and you'll be welcome to visit us at anytime.”

As they watched Josiah's departure, Violet whis
pered, “In case I've forgotten to mention it today, I love you very much, Roger.”

“I rather suspected that, but thanks for telling me anyway.”

Once all the guests had passed the receiving line, Violet and Roger went through the ritualistic cutting of the cake, feeding each other a choice bit, and drinking punch arm in arm. When they approached the heavily laden gift table, Ruth intercepted them. She handed Violet an envelope. “Your grandfather left this for you.”

Violet pulled a $5,000 check out of the envelope. She sighed and handed it to Roger. “What are we going to do with him? I've made it plain that we don't want his money.”

“Keep it,” Roger said. “I figure we will make better use of it than he will. I'll just have to swallow my pride. It isn't your fault you were born a Conley. We've won most of the battles with him, so we'll have to call a compromise on this one.”

“I'd like to do something special with the money. You mentioned once that you'd like to take a tour of the Holy Land. How far would this go toward a tour like that?”

“Probably far enough that we could swing the rest of it ourselves. I like that idea. Before the summer is out, maybe we can have a honeymoon after all.”

After they opened the rest of their gifts, and while their guests were enjoying cake and punch, Roger winked at Violet, and they dodged out the side door of the reception hall. They had acquainted Aunt Ruth and Roger's mother with their wish to leave early, asking them to entertain the guests, and the hospitality committee of the church would take care of any nec
essary housekeeping activities. No one was watching as Roger opened the door of the pickup and helped Violet enter. Just as they pulled away from the curb, Jason and one of his friends came around the side of the church with tin cans and tubes of shaving cream in their hands.

“Hey,” Jason shouted. “That's not fair.”

Roger tooted the horn, and Violet waved and laughed at them as they sped down the street.