by Irene Brand
“Oh, I shouldn’t unload all my worries on you.”
He laughed in his warm, easy way. “And, why not? I told you my shoulders are broad. Cry on them all you want to.”
Violet searched his eyes. Was it love or friendship that she saw? She had wished more than once that Ruth had kept her observations to herself, for the ease that she had always known in Roger’s presence was gone.
“With the situation like it is, I’m wondering if I should go away and leave Aunt Ruth to take care of my mother. We’ll be gone four days.”
“I can’t see that Linda is any worse off than she was when she came here. And since Janie’s project has been entered in the regional competition, she has to go. Who else would take her if you don’t?”
“No one,” Violet admitted.
“Even if Linda’s condition worsens, Ruth can manage. I’ll stop by every day, and so will Pastor Tom.”
“Of course, one of the women from the church is here daily, too. I will go, but I’ll be uneasy all the time I’m gone.”
A few days before they left for Springfield, Roger reported that he may have found Janie’s father. He had stopped by for a cup of coffee on his break time as he usually did when he worked the evening shift.
“The man goes by the name of Clifford Skeen, although his first name is Robert, and he owns and operates a family restaurant in Jefferson City, Missouri. He’s married, without children, and I assume that he was married and divorced from Janie’s mother, but I haven’t verified that information yet.”
“He sounds like a good man,” Violet observed.
“As far as I can determine. It seems that he’s been searching for his daughter.”
Violet’s eyes brightened. “Good. I’ll just back off for a while—he will eventually find her. I’ll continue being Janie’s friend and pray that she can be united with her father.”
While Violet had often thought of adopting Janie and making a real home for the girl she knew it was better for the child to be united with her real parent.
The weather was pleasant for the drive to Springfield. Mrs. Grady had bought Janie some new clothes for the Social Studies fair and the girl’s happiness and excitement distracted Violet from her concerns about leaving her Aunt Ruth and mother. Janie had never stayed in a hotel, and this only added to her excitement that had increased with each mile they traveled. As soon as they arrived in their room, which had two twin-size beds, a luxurious bathroom and a good view of the city, Violet telephoned her home.
“All is well here,” Ruth said, “and we’re relieved that you’ve arrived safely. I’ll telephone Mrs. Grady and let her know that I’ve heard from you.”
“Has Mother slept most of the day? I was sorry she was sleeping when I left and I couldn’t say goodbye.”
“She knew you had gone though, because when I roused her for lunch, she asked me how long you would be away. I told her it was a four-day trip, and she said a rather strange thing—‘That will give me enough time.’ Her comment didn’t make any sense to me, but I didn’t question her.”
“Probably the effect of her medication. Well, I won’t telephone again, for we’re going to be busy, but you know where to reach me. We’re in Room 806.”
The regional fair was held in the hotel’s ballroom, and the exhibits were to be registered the next morning, so the judges could make their decisions during the afternoon. The awards banquet would follow, and the show would be open for viewing the next day with the exhibitors on hand to talk to the viewers about their projects.
During the judging, arrangements had been made for the youths and their counselors to attend a concert featuring a nationally known band. Since no one in Springfield had any hint of Janie’s background, she wasn’t intimidated by anyone, and Violet encouraged the girl to mingle freely with the other contestants.
At the banquet, Janie and Violet had the misfortune to sit at the same table with a man who was obnoxious and loud. Violet thought he certainly wasn’t a good role model for the students, and Violet hoped he wasn’t a teacher.
Assuming the role of host for their table, the man said, “My name is Conley—Mike Conley. You may have heard of Midwest Enterprises—my family owns that.”
Who hadn’t heard of Midwest Enterprises? It was one of the biggest meat distributors in the Middle West. No doubt the firm was a sponsor of this fair, and no one wanted to lose that support by throwing its representative out of the room. Conley had a reddish face and a nervous tick in his jaw that spoke of dissipation. He was a rather handsome man, probably in his thirties, with blondish features. His full lips displayed a hint of petulance, but occasionally, he seemed to drop the mask of his self-importance as a Conley, and Violet decided that under other circumstances, he might have been a decent companion.
Mostly, however, Conley complained endlessly to the waitresses and made a general nuisance of himself. After they had eaten their salads and were waiting for the main course, Conley began to quiz each of his tablemates to learn their names and find out where they lived. He usually added a cutting witticism to each of their statements, and again Violet suspected that he was playing a role, that his present behavior was a facade.
Violet hesitated when he came to her, for she didn’t want him to know that they shared the same surname. But if she didn’t answer, he would probably create a worse scene, so she simply said, “Violet Conley. I live in Maitland, Illinois.”
“Conley, eh? Not a very common name. You any relation to the Kansas Conleys?”
Violet remembered that Mrs. Holland had asked her if she was related to the Kansas City Conleys, so apparently a large number lived here. “I don’t know any Conley other than myself.”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. There are good Conleys and there are bad Conleys. Even our branch has had a few rotten apples on it.” Violet thought she had been dismissed, and she breathed easier, but just when she started to relax, he turned quickly and snapped a question at her.
“What’s your father’s name?”
“I believe it was Ryan, but I don’t know for sure.”
He regarded her from speculative eyes for a few seconds before he turned his gaze away.
Violet was disappointed that Janie’s project wasn’t chosen for one of the high awards, but she was gratified that she had at least, among 15 others students, received Honorable Mention for her exhibit. Out of four hundred projects, that was noteworthy when one considered all the odds against Janie. When she returned from receiving her certificate, Janie’s beaming face indicated that she wasn’t disappointed, and indeed it was an honor to be recognized in such a large group.
Janie was so excited that she couldn’t go to sleep, and consequently, kept talking so that Violet couldn’t sleep either, but she managed to awaken Janie the next morning, and they arrived in the exhibit area ahead of schedule. The exhibitors were expected to stay beside their projects most of the time, but they did have opportunity to mill around and see what the other students had done. It was a rather tiring day, and by mid-afternoon the viewers had dwindled. Violet would have liked to go home tonight, but she knew by the time the show was over at five o’clock, it would be too late to start after they dismantled Janie’s project.
Contemplating these things, Violet jumped slightly when Janie nudged her. “Look. There’s Lieutenant Gibson.” She was amazed to see Roger moving slowly up the aisle across from theirs, obviously searching for someone. Who else but the two of them?
“Roger,” she called, earning her surprised looks from those around her, but Roger heard her voice and looked in her direction. He lifted his hand and came rapidly toward them, and he looked formidable in his dark business suit, white shirt and red tie.
“What is wrong?” she asked softly when he reached her side. Roger took both her hands in his.
“Brace yourself, my dear. Your mother died early this morning, and I didn’t want you to hear it by telephone. I caught the first plane I could and came to drive you home.
”
“But how did it happen?” Violet gasped. “Did she take a turn for the worse?”
“Ruth couldn’t rouse her at all yesterday, and she died in her sleep last night. Ruth wasn’t even awake, so don’t you fret about not being there.”
Violet shook her head in dismay. “I’ll always regret not being with her. I bring her to my home so she can die with family, and then I’m gone when it happens.”
“Ruth believes she willed herself to die while you were gone, so you wouldn’t have to witness her death. She has always tried to spare you pain, and she continued her protection right to the end.” Violet felt stunned by the news, yet Roger’s words penetrated to her heart. Yes, her mother had always tried to protect her. If that wasn’t evidence of a mother’s love for her child, what was?
Roger turned, looked at the project and noticed Janie’s ribbon.
“Well, congratulations, Janie—I see you’ve gotten another award.”
“Only Honorable Mention, but I’m satisfied with that.”
“You should be. While I was searching for you, I saw some excellent projects, so you had more competition than at Maitland.” Turning to Violet again, he said, “When can you leave?”
“The show closes at five, but if I go and check out of our room now, we can leave immediately afterward. But that’s going to be a long drive for you after dark, Roger. Perhaps we should stay over until tomorrow.”
“I napped on the plane, and I’ll be all right. Ruth is waiting until you arrive to make arrangements.”
“You go ahead and check out,” Janie said. “I’ll be all right here. My suitcase is packed.” Violet noted that very few visitors remained in the exhibit room, and she knew that Janie could get along without her. She was suddenly obsessed with the need to return to Maitland as quickly as possible.
The elevator ride up to their room on the eighth floor was crowded, and she welcomed an excuse to lean close to Roger and rest on the solidity of his physique. She fished in her purse for the door key and had it ready when they came to her room, but her hand trembled so much, she couldn’t insert the key. Roger took it from her, opened the door and followed her into the room.
“It won’t take long for me to pack, and Janie has kept her clothes in the suitcase.”
“We aren’t in that much of a hurry. Come over here.” She hadn’t cried, but her trembling wouldn’t stop, and Roger pulled her into his arms and cuddled her in his muscular arms as if she were a child.
“I didn’t have the chance to ask her forgiveness, Roger, for my past feelings toward her. I tried to, but she wouldn’t permit any serious talk.”
“I’m sure she didn’t feel there was anything to forgive. She thought she needed to ask your forgiveness for all the grief she had caused you.”
“But if she would only have talked to me!”
“She may have talked to Ruth, and if so, she will tell you now, but Linda had kept her emotions stifled for over twenty years, and I doubt she could talk to you. To my notion, she exemplified the epitome of the sacrificial love of a mother.”
“You always make me feel better, Roger, and thanks for taking the time to come out here for me. I wouldn’t have welcomed that long drive home, but Aunt Ruth says that I take you for granted.”
He lifted her head from where she had buried it on his chest, and looked deeply into her eyes. Usually one could determine his thoughts, but today Roger’s good, strong face reflected inscrutable emotions. “When I have any complaints about how you treat me, I’ll let you know. You couldn’t make any changes that would cause me to think more of you than I do already.”
She placed a hand on his chest and leaned back to return his gaze. Almost in a whisper, she said, “Roger, what are you trying to tell me?”
“I love you,” he said simply.
“What kind?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what kind of love do you have for me? The kind that one Christian has for another, or does it go deeper than that?”
“Both.” With his hand still holding her chin, Roger pressed his lips against hers, as he answered the question with caresses that left her like putty in his arms. When her senses returned to normal, she had her arms around Roger’s neck, and he was whispering terms of endearment in her ear.
“How long have you known?” she murmured.
“For at least a year—perhaps even longer than that.”
“Why haven’t you told me?”
“Well, for one thing, Larry Holland was cluttering up the landscape, but I wouldn’t have let that deter me if you hadn’t seemed so satisfied with the status quo. I didn’t want to scare you off, as I preferred friendship to nothing.”
“We’ll have to forget this happened, for I can’t deal with it now. We have to get back to Maitland, and with Janie along, we’ll have to continue to be ‘friends.’”
“I doubt I can forget what happened, and I had no intention of speaking today, but you seemed so alone that I wanted you to know that you need never be alone again. I’ll always be there for you, Violet, any time that you need me.”
They were deprived of any further intimate conversation on their trip home because of Janie’s presence in the back seat, but once, when she knew that Janie was sleeping, Violet reached out her hand and placed it on the seat between them. He immediately covered her fingers with a touch that conveyed his warmth and concern.
Although they couldn’t talk, some of the time Violet forgot her mother’s death, and the situation she faced when she arrived home, marveling at Roger’s declaration of love, and her reaction to his embrace. How could she have been so blind as to believe all that existed between them was friendship? And she had believed it! She had enjoyed being with him, she had relied on his help and advice, but, in the years she had known Roger, she had never before experienced that tingling, breathless, giddy, awesome feeling that she had always expected from love until he had kissed her a few hours ago. Nor, except for a few glances that she couldn’t interpret, had he ever given any indication that he held for her a keen, humbling, urgent yearning that had caused a strong man like him to tremble when he took her into his arms. Considering the depth of his longing, which he had experienced for more than a year, she wondered how he could wait so long to approach her. But she had long known that Roger was self-disciplined, deliberate in his thinking, not given to hasty judgments. So, if he said he loved her, she had no doubt that he did.
And amazingly, she loved him. She’d never realized it before, yet suddenly she felt no doubt of that.
The funeral was held in the sanctuary of First Community Church, well attended by the members of the congregation. Janie and Mrs. Grady came, as did Nan Oliver. As was customary, a floral arrangement arrived from the school, and several of her fellow teachers called at the funeral home the night before to offer condolences, and to Violet’s surprise, so did Larry. While he was offering the trite words commonly spoken at a time of death, Violet met Roger’s eyes across the room. He always seemed to know her inner thoughts, but she couldn’t read his. Was he jealous of the time she had spent with Larry or was he above such petty emotions?
As Pastor Tom delivered his brief message, Violet was comforted to hear that he had talked often with Linda about her relationship with God and had been satisfied that she was spiritually prepared to go to Heaven. Yet Violet’s thoughts dwelled once again on her mother’s unhappy life—dead at forty-five, and over half of that time she had been behind bars. Before her marriage, Linda had apparently been a happy person, for Ruth had talked often about their fun-filled girlhood, so what about marriage had changed her? Would she ever learn what had brought her mother to the breaking point?
Did anyone except Ruth and herself mourn for Linda? In all honesty, Violet knew that she didn’t mourn as much for her mother, as she sorrowed for the lost years that could never be reclaimed. That was a void in her life which would never be filled. Now that she had gotten accustomed to having people in the house, she woul
d no doubt feel lonely when Ruth returned home.
She would have liked for Roger to be at her side today, but after he had declared his love for her in Springfield, he had reverted to the caring friend he had always been. Except when he was at work, since their return to Maitland, he had been in constant attendance—most of the time at a distance, but she knew he was there. Right now, she needed friendship more than anything else from him, and although a brotherly hug around her shoulders was comforting, she longed for much more.
Several of the church women had a meal prepared at Violet’s home after the funeral, which Roger and Pastor Tom shared with them. Snow had started falling while they were at the cemetery, and within two hours, an inch of snow blanketed the ground. After he had eaten, Roger excused himself. “I’ll need to check in at headquarters. We’ll need all of our officers on duty tonight—this could be a nasty snow.”
Violet walked with him to the door and waited while he shrugged into his coat. “Let me know when you want my company,” he said softly.
“All the time,” she replied honestly. “but I do know that you have other commitments.”
He squeezed her hand, and his eyes blazed with promises of the future. “I’ll try to telephone before you go to bed.”
“Be careful, Roger,” she called as he went toward his car, wondering if his wife had often been concerned about the dangers that Roger faced as a policeman. The times he had embraced her when he was in uniform, Violet was always aware of the safety vest he wore and the reason for it. She sighed. Just another adjustment she would have to make if they were married.
The house was strangely quiet after all the guests left. Violet remembered that it had been that way when Aunt Ruth’s husband had died—he came from a large family, and when his sister, brothers, nieces and nephews had gone, Violet and Ruth had eyed each other in dismay, wondering how they could cope with the emptiness.
Ruth must have been thinking the same thing for she said, “We got through it the last time, we will manage now, too.”