To Love and Honor

by Irene Brand

  “We’re not exactly asking your permission,” Roger said slowly, “but we do think you deserve some consideration in the matter.”

  “You have my blessing,” Jason said. “Misty?”

  Misty sipped the cola she held. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’ve always expected you to marry again, and I’ve worried a little about your being alone when Jason and I leave home. I suppose I just wasn’t ready for it yet, but I’ll get used to the idea—it’s just a surprise.”

  “It came as a surprise to me, too,” Violet said softly, speaking for the first time since their entrance.

  With a slight grin, Misty said, “Oh, I’m not surprised that he asked you—I’ve known for a long time that you were the one he wanted.”

  “You have? Why am I the only one who didn’t know it?”

  “What’s the matter with you, Dad?” Jason said as he sat upright on the couch. “I thought you could manage your romances better than that, or I would have advised you. ‘Faint heart never won fair lady.’”

  Roger’s face flushed. “Cut it out, Jason. You’re not making this easy for me.”

  “When are you expecting to get married?” Jason asked.

  “In a year,” Violet said, just as Roger said, “Six months.”

  Jason laughed uproariously. “I think you two had better get your act together and then come back and talk to us.” He walked over to his father and placed a hand on his shoulder in a fatherly manner. “Decide what you want to do before you bring us into it. Rest assured that we’ll give you all the advice you need.”

  Roger groaned and rolled his eyes upward. He stood and lifted Violet to a position beside him. To Misty, he said, “I take it, then, that you don’t have any serious objections.”

  “No,” she said slowly. “When Miss Conley is my teacher, I would feel funny about having her as a mother, but if you aren’t married for six months or a year—” she smiled slightly “—I wouldn’t be in her class then. You deserve to be happy, Dad. I know you’ve been lonely all these years that you’ve devoted your time to Jason and me. It’s your turn for happiness now.”

  Roger leaned over and kissed Misty on the cheek. “I have been happy with just the three of us, but I love Violet, and I want her to become a part of our family.”

  Misty nodded, but she wouldn’t look at him. Roger patted her bowed head. “I’ll take Violet home and leave the two of you to your television.”

  The room was unusually quiet when they left, but Violet figured the two teenagers had plenty to say as soon as the door closed. When they entered the truck, Violet leaned her head against the seat and exploded into laughter—uncontrollable laughter that erupted in waves of merriment.

  “What’s so amusing? I was scared to death.”

  “That was obvious, and we certainly presented an impressive spectacle to your children. I was shaking so much that I could hardly stand up, and you looked as if you were facing a firing squad.”

  “I would face death more calmly than I could confront those two kids. And, of course, Jason would choose to be facetious.”

  When Violet continued to laugh, he drew her toward him, “They’re good kids, though,” and Violet nodded her head against his shoulder. “That’s the reason I don’t want to do anything to hurt them.”

  He started the truck’s engine and moved down the street. “It seems we have permission to set the date. Do you really want to wait a year?” Roger asked.

  “I don’t want to wait a week, but that’s my heart talking. My common sense says we have to enter this slowly. A week ago I hadn’t considered marrying you. We have to adjust to the idea slowly and give your children time to become reconciled to our marriage. For all their seeming acquiescence, it will initiate a big change in their lives. But, surely, six months would be long enough.”

  “Six months would be June 30. Would you like to be a June bride?”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Schools will be closed for the summer, and Misty would no longer be my student. Let’s plan on that date. The time will pass slowly, but there will be many decisions to make. For instance, will we keep my house and rent it, or sell it?”

  “I realize that we do need to go slow, but the way I feel now, I want to take you over to Pastor Tom right away and have him perform an immediate ceremony to make us one.”

  Violet leaned over and kissed Roger’s hand where it rested on the steering wheel.

  “And speaking of Pastor Tom, I’ve decided to let him make an announcement about Mother’s book. The popularity of that publication will go a long way toward erasing the stigma of her years in prison.”

  With the publication of the article, Violet felt a sense of closure over her mother’s death, and she was optimistic about the future, even accepting the fact that she was going to be alone after Ruth’s departure. She had never minded being by herself before, and one of the mixed blessings she looked forward to in marriage with Roger was that she would never be alone again. Already she could hardly bear to be separated from him, so that didn’t trouble her much, but she did wonder how she would deal with having two children in the house. On the plus side, she remembered how she had longed for a big family during her childhood, and she realized that she would be obtaining not only a husband, but an instant family, when she and Roger married.

  After the article had been published, she sensed a difference in the attitude of her acquaintances. One day she saw Mrs. Holland riding along in her chauffeured limousine, and she had graciously lifted her hand. Even Larry was making overtures to her again, and though she treated him civilly, she wondered if he thought she would fall into his arms after his desertion during her time of greatest need. Apparently no one was aware that she intended to marry Roger, for they hadn’t made public announcement of their engagement, and Misty and Jason must not have mentioned it, either. She couldn’t imagine that any of her acquaintances could be unaware of the time she and Roger spent together, but no comments were made.

  When the new semester started, Janie Skeen enrolled in two art classes, and the instructor reported to Violet that the girl had a natural aptitude for sketching. Janie had started attending the youth group at First Community Church, and she had made new friends there—friendships that carried over to Maitland High, where she was more accepted socially. Violet wondered frequently if Janie’s father had discovered where his daughter lived.

  Most of the worries that had been plaguing Violet for the past few months were dissipating and she anticipated her future with gladness. But the day before Ruth left, Violet received a disturbing letter. She had been lulled into a sense of complacency, thinking that the future held no surprises, although she should have known better. God had helped her through the trying days of her mother’s illness and death, and she was looking forward to the future with much anticipation, knowing that nothing could happen now that she couldn’t handle with God’s help. Even after she read the letter, she wasn’t as disconsolate as she had been when she had received the message about her mother’s prison release, a sign of spiritual maturation on her part.

  Violet found it difficult to comprehend the content of the terse message, and she handed it to Ruth who read it aloud.

  “I have learned that my grandson, Mike Conley, encountered you recently. I have made enough investigation to know that you are my granddaughter, born to my son, Ryan Conley. Please call upon me as soon as possible. Telephone my secretary at the number below when you expect to arrive.

  Josiah B. Conley,

  Kansas City, Kansas”

  “There’s no doubt the letter is from your grandfather,” Ruth said with a grimace. “Always the exalted potentate giving orders to his subjects.” She tapped the message significantly. “That paints a picture of what he’s like, and how he was able to railroad your mother into prison. Are you going to obey the summons?”

  “Of course not,” Violet said. “Do you think I should?”

  “No, although I am curious about what he wants. No doubt, he
’s heard of Linda’s death.”

  “Something just occurred to me. Why didn’t the Conleys take me when my mother was sent to prison?”

  “That’s some of the information you can learn from William O’Brien, but with all of the trouble Linda had with the Conleys, she wouldn’t have wanted you to live with them.”

  When Roger came that evening to bid Ruth goodbye, Violet showed him the letter.

  “He doesn’t sound like a doting grandfather,” Roger said with a laugh.

  “My husband and I were in Mexico during the years that Linda and Ryan were married,” Ruth said, “so I haven’t met any of the Conleys. My husband was an archeologist, and we were isolated on a dig during the time of the trial. Violet lived with Linda’s attorney and his wife for a few months until we returned, and I took her into our home. Even in her letters, Linda didn’t have much to say about her in-laws, but enough to indicate that Josiah Conley dominated the lives of his two sons.”

  “Are you going?” Roger asked as he handed the letter back to Violet.

  “I have a strange feeling about this, as if I don’t have any business mixing with the Conleys. They evidently brought about my mother’s downfall. I’m better off ignoring them.”

  But in the end, she answered the letter, addressing it to “Mr. Conley,” for she wouldn’t recognize him as her grandfather. She wrote, “If you had me investigated, then you will know that I’m employed as a public schoolteacher, and I have a busy schedule. I will have some vacation during the Easter Holidays, and if I should have occasion to be in Kansas City during that time, I will contact you.”

  It was still six weeks before Easter, and Violet thought she would not have to worry about seeing her grandfather until then, and she could devote more thought to her marriage and the decisions she and Roger must make. Her ship of life was sailing smoothly again, and she didn’t want the Conleys to disrupt that. Then a second jolt penetrated her horizon.

  Violet was unaware that the Associated Press had picked up the article about her mother’s book and subsequent death until she received a visitor late one afternoon. Ever afterward, she believed God had placed Roger in her home that day, for she needed him beside her when she first met Peter Pierce. Roger had arrived soon after she came from school, for they wanted to assess the value of her house, and decide if any repairs should be made before they reached a decision about putting the house on the market for sale or rent. A cold March wind offset the sun’s warmth as they walked around in the backyard, and Roger looked over the exterior siding. He had just descended the ladder, after checking out the roof and the guttering, when they heard a car stop in the driveway.

  Violet walked around the house to check on her visitor. A black van with a New York license was parked behind her car, and a man, who looked somewhat familiar, was exiting the vehicle, a briefcase in his hand. He saw her, and with a broad smile, walked in her direction.

  “Miss Conley,” he said. “Miss Violet Conley?”

  Roger had joined her by that time. “Yes,” she answered.

  “I’m Peter Pierce,” the stranger said, “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

  No wonder he seemed familiar—her visitor was the emcee of the hit program, “Travesty of Justice,” that aired on a major network every Saturday night. Violet hadn’t watched his show often, but she did remember one program that had cleared the name of a convict executed in the electric chair—a few years too late someone else had confessed to the crime.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of you.”

  He presented a card for identification, but none was really needed, for his face was well-known to television viewers. Pierce looked questioningly at Roger, and Violet said, “This is my fiancé, Roger Gibson.”

  Pierce shook hands with Roger. “I’d like to talk with you, Miss Conley, if you can spare a half hour of your time.”

  “I suppose so.” Violet glanced at Roger.

  “I suppose we can speak with him Violet,” Roger said.

  She opened the door and the two men followed her into the kitchen. “May I offer you a soft drink, Mr. Pierce?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “Let’s sit here at the dining table, then. The bright sun is making this alcove a pleasant spot right now.”

  Roger took three glasses from the cabinet, Violet filled them with a lemon-lime drink, and the three of them sat at the table.

  “I will come to the reason for my visit right away.” He opened his briefcase and took out a folder, from which he extracted a newspaper clipping. When he handed it to her, Violet saw that it was the article about her mother that had appeared in the Maitland News.

  “If you’ve watched our telecast, you know that we are dedicated to righting the wrongs of juries, who in ignorance or by design, have brought judgments against innocent people. This article was forwarded to us by a reader, who had read your mother’s book, suggesting that Linda Conley’s conviction would be a good subject for one of our investigations. After I read the article, I was inclined to agree that the story would make a good feature for our program, and I’ve spent the past few days in Kansas City, delving into the records of your mother’s trial and conviction. I don’t believe the full story was ever told, but I received no cooperation from your mother’s attorney, William O’Brien. He said he wouldn’t even talk to us about the trial without your permission.”

  “Since I’ve been hesitant to learn the truth for myself, I’m not inclined to allow her story to be aired nationwide. My mother told me nothing about the incident—she obviously didn’t want any publicity about it, so I doubt that I would ever agree to any broadcast.”

  “I’m authorized to offer you $500,000 for first rights on this story,” he said, his confident tone indicating that the high figure would sway Violet’s opinion.

  “Money will have nothing to do with my decision.”

  “Then you will consider it?”

  Violet looked at Roger. “What do you think?”

  He smiled and took her hand. “The same as I’ve told you before on other matters. Don’t make a hasty decision. Mr. Pierce is eager to get your name on the dotted line before someone else approaches you, but you don’t have to give him your answer today.”

  “We’ll top any offer you receive,” Pierce said. “The story intrigues me.”

  “You think I’ll be approached by others?” Violet said in amazement.

  Pierce nodded his head emphatically. “Undoubtedly. Someone is going to publish this story, with or without your approval, and you will benefit from having it done by a reputable producer like ours, rather than to have Linda Conley’s experience aired with half truths, innuendoes, and downright lies.”

  Roger nodded in agreement.

  “Under no circumstances will I agree to the broadcast until I know the truth. I may go to Kansas City during the Easter Holidays, and if so, I will contact Mr. O’Brien. When I learn the story, I’ll consider your offer.”

  “Will you promise me that you won’t negotiate with anyone else before then—that you will give me first refusal?”

  Violet looked at Roger, and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t tie myself to any commitment.” His eyes sparkled. “At least, not anything of this nature.”

  She knew he was thinking of her commitment to marry him, and his bit of humor helped when she said, “I’ll agree to contact you with my decision between Easter and the first of May—I can’t promise you more than that.”

  “Of course, there’s a possibility that we might want to withdraw the offer before then.”

  “That’s all right,” Violet said. “Such an action would simply indicate that God didn’t want me to grant permission. In the meantime, I’ll be praying for guidance on whether I should deal with you at all.”

  Graciously, but with a hint of frustration, Peter Pierce left.

  “I’m glad you were here, Roger,” Violet said. “Since I believe God is guiding my decisions as always, it seems that I’m getting more and more reasons to go to Kansa
s City.”

  Roger stood to leave, for his hour was almost over. “It does seem that way.” He pulled her into his arms, where she snuggled contentedly. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Yes, of course, but I won’t let you. I’ll probably be gone most of the week, and you should be with Misty when she has her vacation week.”

  He sighed. “I know—now my first responsibility is to Misty and Jason, but before too long, I’ll have the right to make you my major priority.” He bent to kiss her and Violet’s hands clasped around his neck. With a sigh he gently broke the embrace and went out to his truck.

  Wondering if William O’Brien would still be in his office, Violet found his telephone number in the estate correspondence and dialed. A secretary answered, Violet gave her name, and she was soon talking to O’Brien. She explained about her visit from Peter Pierce.

  “I was sure he would come to see you, and perhaps I should have warned you. What have you decided?”

  “That I want to find out the truth before I agree to the documentary.”

  “That is a wise move.”

  “I may be in Kansas City the week after Easter, and if so, would you have time to talk with me? Mother left it to my discretion to learn about her conviction—she said you would tell me.”

  “I will be pleased to serve you as I tried to serve your mother.”

  “You might be interested in the other reason I have for coming to Kansas City. My grandfather contacted me by letter, practically demanding that I come to see him.”

  “You mean old Josiah Conley wants to see you?”

  “That’s what his letter indicated.”

  “I can’t imagine what that old varmint wants. If I were you, I wouldn’t go near him. I don’t know what he wants, but I can assure you that it isn’t anything for your benefit. But if you do come to Kansas City, let me know what days you will want to see me, for it may take more than a day if you delve very deeply into your mother’s past.”

  A light mist was falling the day after Easter when Violet set out for Kansas City, but the heavy clouds soon turned into feathery wisps, and the sun broke through. She tried to enjoy the scenery, but her mind was too befuddled with what was facing her in the coming week.