by Jane Peart
“No, thanks. It’s all ready. I’ll just bring it in.” Kitty disappeared into the tiny kitchen. In a few minutes she returned, carrying a tray, which she set down on the cobbler’s bench table in front of the fireplace. She smiled almost shyly at her sister. “I’m so glad you’ve come! I’m so happy to see you.”
“Why didn’t you let anyone know you were coming?”
Kitty’s hand shook a little as she poured tea into their cups, then handed one to Cara. “I guess because I wasn’t sure how I’d be received.” She paused. “I mean here, at Montclair.” She stopped and looked at Cara. “Have you read my book?”
“Yes.”
“And has Kip?”
Cara took a sip of her tea before answering. “No. But then, Kip hardly reads anything but aeronautic manuals.” She put her teacup down. “It was good, Kitty. Very good.”
“Thank you. I had to write it, you know.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what good it will do. One of the major magazines is running it as a book-length feature, though.”
“That should reach a lot of people.”
“Yes,” Kitty sighed. “That means a great deal. But it won’t be worth it to me if we—Cara, I’m so sorry we quarreled.”
“I am, too. But I think I understand how you feel, Kitty. It’s just that I can’t fight with Kip over it. He and I—well, maybe we have an unusual marriage, but I don’t tell him what he can do or think or say, and neither does he tell me. That’s the way it is with us.”
“Marriages are always different, depending on the two people. You and Owen had one type of marriage, Richard and I had another.” Kitty leaned forward. “Cara, I have something to tell you. Something marvelous. Something unexpected. Something I never thought would happen again to me. I’m in love. And we’re going to be married. That’s the real reason I came back now. I wanted you to be the first to know, and I wanted things to be right between us again. Do you think that can happen?”
Tears flooded into Cara’s eyes. She reached across the table and grasped her twin’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “Yes, of course. Now, tell me everything.”
During the next hour their estrangement melted away. It was as if they both knew that even as close as twins can be, each had another path to walk, another life to live, apart from each other. Cara rejoiced for Kitty as her sister told her about Craig. “Of course you’ll be married here, won’t you? You’ll let me do the wedding?”
Her eyes misty, Kitty nodded. “I just hope Craig won’t be overwhelmed by my hordes of relatives!”
“Nonsense! We’re just what an orphan needs-a big, noisy family!” Cara said, laughing gaily.
Before Cara left to go back up to the house, the sisters hugged for a long time.
“I’m so sorry for all the ugly things I said to you, Cara. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course. This year has been horrible. I missed you so much. I missed your letters, your postcards.” Cara stepped back, put her hands on Kitty’s shoulders, and looked at her directly. “When you were with Mama in Santa Barbara, did you tell her about our quarrel?”
“Yes. She was really upset about it. She repeated what she used to quote to us all the time at home when we squabbled. Remember?”
Cara frowned. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“Matthew 5:25—'Settle matters quickly with your adversary, or he may hand you over to the judge.'”
“Who was the judge? Daddy?” Cara asked, laughing.
“I guess in those days.” Kitty joined in her laughter. “But seriously, let’s let bygones be bygones. No more arguments.”
“Not ever,” agreed the other, knowing that distance and time apart would probably make that: an easy promise to keep.
Cara hurried through the gathering dark. She saw Kip’s old car haphazardly parked near the back. He had kept his beloved sports roadster, scuffed, battered, and rattling as it was. She suspected he did so not only because they couldn’t afford a new car but because it represented something to him of his former, carefree days.
Cara ran up the back steps. She hoped Niki and Luc were home and that someone had started something for supper. The screen door banged behind her. She stopped, listening for sounds of activity within the house. As she waited, the door opened again and Kip came in. He stood there, and in the shadows she saw something in his face that sped straight to her heart. Without a word she went into his arms. As they enclosed her, Cara thought of her sister awaiting the fulfillment of a new love. Her own was an old love, cherished like an old book of poetry—tattered and worn perhaps, with phrases underlined, writing in the margins, but still intact, having stood the test of time. Childhood, youth, now the middle of life—she and Kip had come a long way together. No matter what anyone else thought, said, or saw, this love had lasted—and would last through all eternity.
A week later Kitty sent Craig a single-word telegram—"Yes.”
chapter
24
KITTY INSISTED ON a small ceremony with only family in attendance. “I don’t want to overwhelm Craig on his first visit,” she told Cara. “Our combined families will be quite enough for someone who grew up practically on his own.”
Craig had arrived by train the afternoon before. Kitty met him at the Mayfield station and drove him to Cameron Hall, where he would stay until after their wedding the next day. That evening Jill arranged a lovely buffet supper, and all the family who were in town came to meet Kitty’s bridegroom.
It was an enjoyable evening. To Kitty’s delight and certainly to her expectation, Craig conducted himself with sophisticated ease. No one could fault him. He seemed as comfortable with the assorted family members as he would have been in a board-room, in an editorial conference, or at a booksellers’ meeting. He conversed as well with Scott on current events as he did with Gareth on gardening, with Dru on the history of Virginia, and with Evalee on antiques. Kitty experienced a quiet pride in the man she had chosen to marry.
The four little girls sat on the stairway steps, balancing plates of food and glasses of punch.
“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Niki commented to the others.
“Yes, but old,” said Scotty.
“Not: too old. Not any older than Uncle Scott,” demurred Niki.
“Daddy’s not old,” bristled Scotty.
“Sort of. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about our weddings,” Niki said, changing the subject. “I’m going to wear a veil, not a hat like Aunt Kitty’s going to wear. A real veil with lace and little pearls.”
“Will I be at your wedding, Niki?” asked Natasha.
“Sure you will, Tasha.”
“Me too?” echoed Cara-Lyn.
“Yes, of course. All of you will. We’ll all be at each other’s weddings,” Niki declared emphatically.
“Let’s promise. We’ll each be each other’s bridesmaids!” Scotty bounced excitedly. “Promise,” she prompted, holding out her hand, the little finger crooked. One by one each child joined hers with the others all around. Satisfied that the promise was sealed, they went back to eating.
Then Niki announced, “I’m going to marry Luc when I grow up.”
Scotty looked at her. “You can’t! Luc’s your brother.” She added scornfully, “People don’t marry their brothers.”
“He’s not my real brother,” retorted Niki.
“He isn’t?” Cara-Lyn was surprised. “How come?”
“’Cause I’m ‘dopted,” Niki told her.
“You mean, Aunt Cara and Uncle Kip aren’t your real parents?”
“Nope. Tante ‘dopted me.”
“That means you’re an orphan?” Scotty gasped. “Like Little Orphan Annie in the comics?”
Orphan. The word hung there for a moment. The three other girls stared with new interest at Niki. Under their scrutiny, her spoonful of ice cream slid down her suddenly tight throat. For the first time she could remember, she realized what the word meant. It meant being alone, abandoned, without a mommy and daddy of your own. It
meant you didn’t belong to anybody.
The next morning, the little chapel on the Montrose property—built by one of the brides of Montclair, Avril—was being decorated for the noon wedding of Kitty Traherne and Craig Cavanaugh.
The little cousins, who were all going to be flower girls, had been put to work, mostly to keep them out of mischief. They carried in the flowers, which had been placed in water buckets the night before to keep them fresh, and helped arrange them in the white wicker baskets set along the altar railing. Cara and Lynette, who were doing the decorating, tried to keep the children busy—anything to prevent them from escaping to romp outside and have to be bathed, shampooed, all over again.
Niki and Scotty were the hardest to keep track of, chasing each other in and out of the open chapel doors, racing up and down the porch steps. Cara-Lyn stood quietly, waiting for instructions and solemnly handing one gladiola after the other to Lynette. Natasha, awestruck to be included in this special occasion, sat in the front pew, alternately watching the ladies decorate and giggling at the antics of her two older cousins.
“Now, I’ve had about enough of you two scalawags,” Cara said at last, whirling around, hands on her hips, glaring at Niki and Scotty as they came laughing and puffing down the center aisle. “Nicole, I’m warning you.” She tried to scowl at the pretty little girls with their flushed cheeks, dancing eyes, and tumbled curls. “Now, you and Scotty sit still until we’re ready to go back up to the house and get dressed, or you’re not going to be in the wedding at all!”
That threat subdued the two culprits, and they sidled into one of the back pews, momentarily quiet.
“Weddings are really fun, aren’t they?” Scotty whispered behind one chubby hand.
Niki nodded vigorously. “But I’m going to have a big wedding. In a big church. Maybe a cathedral in France.”
“How can you do that?” demanded Scotty. “We live in Virginia.”
“Well, we’re not going to live here our entire lives, silly,” retorted Niki. “’Sides, I’m French. I’ll have to go back someday and see where I was born.”
This thought caused Scotty to wrinkle her brow. “My mother’s English, but she got married here.”
“So what?” Niki sniffed. “That’s different.”
“How is it different?” Scotty persisted.
“Well…” Niki drew out the word, prolonging it as she tried to think of how to answer Scotty’s question.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to, because Cara turned around just then and said, “Corne on, girls, let’s go. We’ve only got about an hour and a half to get dressed and ready.” She wanted Kitty’s wedding to be perfect. She then said to Lynette, “I think we did a good job. The flowers really look lovely.”
“Yes, I agree. So then, I’ll see you later. You don’t mind letting Cara-Lyn tag along with you? It won’t be too much to have another one to dress?”
“Not at all. Cara-Lyn’s never any bother, are you, sweetie?” She leaned down and patted the child’s cheek, then took the little girl’s hands. Cara rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s the other two! But they’ll all look adorable, and it will be worth the trouble.” Her gaze fell on Natasha, who was still seated in the corner of the front pew.
“I’ll take them on up to the house, Cara,” Lynette said. “I know you want to stop by Eden Cottage for a minute and see Kitty. Come along, girls.”
When Cara let herself in the door, she found Kitty sitting quietly in one of the wing chairs by the window that overlooked the little garden. She was already wearing the gown she had chosen for her wedding, a tea-rose silk dress made with exquisite simplicity. She had yet to put on her lace gloves and her pale-pink, silk-straw hat, which lay on the table beside her. The hat had an upturned brim, and its band was trellised with a ruffle of satin-ribbon roses.
There was such a sweet serenity in Kitty’s expression as she turned to greet her that Cara was filled with emotion. More than anything, Cara wanted her adored sister to be happy.
An hour later Cara felt assured of that prayerful wish.
Listening to Craig and Kitty make their vows, her own throat tightened. It reminded her poignantly of what those vows were supposed to mean when taken with a sincere intention to carry them out. The look on both faces left no doubt in Cam’s mind that this was truly a marriage of minds, hearts, and souls.
Burlington Falls, Connecticut
From the living room window, where she stood on a stepladder, hanging the new curtains, Evalee saw the delivery truck turn into their driveway. She wondered if this could finally be the lampshades she’d ordered. She got down and hurried to the front door just as the driver was coming up the porch steps, carrying a large, square package.
“Howdy, Mrs. Reid,” he greeted her. “I guess you folks get more packages than anyone else in Burlington Falls.”
“Wedding presents, mostly!” she said, smiling.
“Well, this is a right heavy one. Better let me take it inside for you. Unless the mister’s at home?”
“No, he’s down at the bookstore. Thanks. Bring it on in.”
He set it down right inside the door and she signed for it. After they had exchanged a few remarks about the garden and the lilac bush by the door just coming into bloom, the delivery man got back in his truck and drove away.
Evalee examined the address label. They’d received gifts from almost everyone they knew in Mayfield. Who could this be from—and what was it?
Should she wait for Alan before opening it? She glanced at her watch. He would be home for lunch in another half hour, so she decided to wait. Having lunch together was one of the happy little rituals of their married life. He usually had some funny anecdote to tell her about a customer or something that had happened that he thought would interest or amuse her. This had become a time that both of them looked forward to and enjoyed.
Evalee went into the kitchen to heat up the homemade soup and warm the rolls. She looked around the sunny room with its alcoved nook that looked out into the backyard, where two gnarled old apple trees were budding and scenting the early spring air with a delightful fragrance. It was wonderful to be so incredibly happy, so very blessed. She thanked God every day for the unexpected happiness her life had become.
At the sound of the front door opening and Alan’s voice calling her name, she spun around and hurried out into the hallway to welcome him.
“We’ve got another wedding present,” she told him. “Come and see. It’s very mysterious. There’s only the address of one of those packaging places—no return address, no name. I haven’t a clue as to who it’s from.”
“Probably one of your secret admirers,” Alan said, grinning. “Here, I’ll cut it open.” He took his penknife out of his pocket and snipped the string. Eagerly, Evalee began to tear off the brown wrapping paper. Underneath the thick corrugated card-board, she saw an ornate frame and then the portrait. There was a small label on the back of the canvas—Unknown Lady, circa 1840. An envelope was taped to the edge of the frame. She took it, opened it, and read,
This lady evidently does not belong at Wemberly.
It was signed by Trent MacGowan.
“Let me see, honey,” Alan said, and she handed him the card. He read it, then studied the painting. “It could be you. The eyes, the cheekbones, the coloring. I suppose that’s why he sent it. Did you find it for him for Wemberly?”
Evalee shook her head. “No. He found it himself. But he’s right. The lady doesn’t belong at Wemberly. She belongs right here.” She went over, put her arms around Alan, and kissed him. “I think she’ll look perfect right over the mantelpiece, don’t you?”
Birchfields
September 3, 1939
THAT BRIGHT SEPTEMBER morning, there was not the slightest hint nor premonition of coming disaster. The papers were not delivered until late in the afternoon. An air of absolute tranquillity sheltered the rambling Tudor mansion. Garnet had spent most of the morning happily, supervising her gardener outside.
At noon she reluctantly left to have lunch and take a nap afterward. Much as she hated to admit it, she was feeling a little stiff. Her hip was bothering her again. But she refused to use a cane. Just feeling her age a bit, she decided. A little rest in the afternoon always seemed to revive her, and she had given in to the necessity of one.
After her rest and a bath, she went downstairs to have her tea, an English custom she had long since adopted. She walked into the drawing room, a beautiful, imposing room whose French windows opened onto the terrace. For a moment she stood looking out at the garden, onto its sculptured hedges, its beautifully blooming flower beds. Now purple shadows stretched across the velvety green lawns.
With a sigh she turned back into the room that had been Jeremy’s favorite. The big house taunted her with its emptiness. Since its restoration in the early 1920s, her home had retained much of the same elegance it had when she and Jeremy first bought it, shortly after their marriage. They had made it into not only a showplace to entertain but also a home to be enjoyed. Absently she twisted her engagement ring, placed on her finger by Jeremy so long ago—a rich cluster of garnets circled by sparkling diamonds in delicate gold prongs. Dear Jeremy, he had possessed the gift of soothing her anxieties, calming her anger, and making her behave sensibly and rationally when she was apt to fly off on tangents.
Garnet’s loneliness met her at every turn, in every room, at every vista viewed from the windows of Birchfields. She remembered the days when it had been filled with company—Jeremy’s friends, his business associates. He had liked to entertain, to show off his beautiful American wife, to bask in the surroundings of hearth, home, family. When Faith was alive, young people had made the place merry on weekends with their music, games, and laughter. All that was gone now. The house had a disturbing quiet that sometimes made Garnet uneasy.
Perhaps she should never have come back here to live. But to stay in Virginia was impossible. Her life there was over—had been over for years. Mayfield and Montclair held too many memories, too many regrets, for her to live happily there.