by Irene Brand
She returned his call, and when he answered the phone, she identified herself and said, “I’ve decided to authorize the documentary on the episode between my mother and father. You will have to contact my attorney for details and also for any financial arrangements. I think you met William O’Brien when you were previously in Kansas City.”
After she completed that call, Violet telephoned O’Brien.
“Right or wrong,” she said as soon as the attorney answered the phone, “I’ve authorized Peter Pierce to air the story of my parents’ problems. I hope you will act for me in deciding what information to release and also the financial arrangements. He had told me that he would pay $500,000 for publishing rights, and if you don’t think that is enough, see that he pays what is just. Whatever the proceeds, I want you to set up the amount in a Linda Conley Foundation to provide college scholarships for deserving girls who couldn’t further their education in any other way.”
“I’ll be happy to act for you in the matter, but I’ll telephone you with the details before any papers are signed. And what about the bank account that your mother had—shall I transfer that to you now?”
“Yes. I’ll use that money, rather than put it in the foundation, for I have her funeral expenses to pay, and I do plan to marry soon. I believe that is the way Mother would want it. She earned that money, and I’m not hesitant to use it, but I don’t want to profit from the documentary, to prove to myself, if to no one else, that my motives weren’t mercenary.”
“Just a word of warning, Violet. You’ll not be able to avoid Josiah Conley. The man is determined to get what he wants, and he will use every force at his command to bend you to his will. He wants you to raise up a dynasty for him, but he’s not above casting you aside as soon as you provide him with a grandson or two.”
“Isn’t there anything good about him? I refuse to believe that there isn’t something worthwhile in everybody.”
“I’ll admit I’m biased against him, but I see nothing in him to admire.”
“Despite all I’d heard about him, I couldn’t help but like the man. He can be charming if he wants to be.”
“So can any scoundrel! Be careful in any dealings with him.”
“I’ve been wondering if I shouldn’t notify him by mail that I’m not interested in accepting his proposition. As my attorney, will you write to him and tell him my decision?”
“With pleasure,” O’Brien assured her. “I’ll mail you a copy.”
“Please be kind about it. I don’t want to antagonize him any more than I have to.”
After her conversation with O’Brien, Violet had little appetite, but she placed a chicken breast in the broiler, and while it cooked, she prepared a salad and toasted a slice of sourdough bread. During her meal, she looked out the dining room window and marveled at how the foliage in her backyard had changed in the week she had been gone. Daffodils and tulips created an aura of yellow, red and pink hues. The forsythia’s yellow blooms swayed gently in the southwest breeze. For beauty, her yard certainly came off second best when compared with the floral display at the Conley mansion, but she liked this one better.
When the kitchen was tidied, Violet took a cup of tea and went to the living room. She felt spiritually drained, and she picked up the Bible before she settled into her lounge chair. She was troubled about her own personality, and what she had to offer Roger. She pondered the age-old question of the greatest determinant in molding character—heredity or environment? Had she inherited any of the abominable traits of the Conleys? What of her father’s temper or her grandfather’s domineering attitude—did she have the same flaw in her character, lurking somewhere beneath the surface waiting to assert itself? Could she hope that if she inherited anything from the Conleys that it might be from her grandmother?
The future seemed bleak when she dwelt on these possibilities, but as she riffled the pages of the Bible in her lap, she knew without a doubt that, like her mother, she was hesitant to cause conflict. She dreaded the thought of being involved in a confrontation with her grandfather that was bound to come when he learned about the documentary, but she wasn’t as troubled as she might have been a few months ago. God had provided the guidance and support she needed to bring her mother into her home, to cope with Linda’s death, to accept her father’s faulty character and the terrible circumstances that led to his death by his wife’s hand, and the disappointment and loss she felt when Roger had forsaken her. These were not situations that Violet would ever want to experience again, but as she looked back on them, she knew that each crisis and its resolution had increased her faith in God and her realization that nothing she encountered in the future would remove her beyond the realm of His care. It was a comforting thought.
She opened the Bible to the Psalms. What a blessing that, years before the birth of Christ, these inspired writers had been able to put into words the path that a Christian should follow. Violet looked down at Psalm 73 on the printed page before her and received encouragement from the revelation God had given to the psalmist: “Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And being with you, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
Violet sensed that she couldn’t avoid an unpleasant confrontation with Josiah P. Conley, but with God’s help, she would know what to do, relying on Him for the guidance she needed. The comfort of God’s presence overwhelmed her, and she was at peace from the day’s frustrations. Violet was napping when Roger knocked, and she yawned when she opened the door.
“What a welcome!” Roger said, laughing. “I expected you to greet me with open arms, and all I get is a yawn.”
“I had just dropped off to sleep,” Violet excused herself. She spread out her arms. “But the arms are always open. Come on in.” She gave him a tight hug and picked up the teacup on the table. “I’ll make some fresh tea. That will awaken me. How was your day?”
“Frustrating!”
“Oh-oh! So was mine—we may come to logger-heads before the evening is over.”
He leaned on the snack bar while they waited for the water to boil. She dropped two tea bags into the teapot. “What made yours so frustrating?” Roger asked.
With a side glance at him, Violet said, “The staff and students at Maitland High are favorably impressed that I’m the granddaughter of Josiah B. Conley. My status has risen considerably. I was the most popular person on campus today.”
“And you found that displeasing?” he said, toying with a dish mat on the counter.
“Very much so. It particularly rankled when my principal asked me for a date this week. How could he have had the nerve?”
“I assume you turned him down.”
“Of course. My heart is already spoken for. I thought you knew that.”
“I suspected it.” He smiled at her and picked up the tray she had prepared and carried it to the living room. She sat on the couch, and he handed her a cup of tea and pulled up a footstool close to her.
“But as for Larry approaching you, his mother is probably pressuring him. If Olivia Holland can see any possibility of getting her hands on any of the Conley millions, she won’t pass it up.”
“That’s my opinion, too. I do think Larry is fond of me, but he does dance to his mother’s tune. She telephoned me last night and was all sweetness and charm. I didn’t bother to disillusion her by telling her the complete state of affairs between Josiah Conley and me, for I didn’t consider it any of her business.” She sipped on the tea, hesitating. “I told Larry that I planned to marry you in two months, and he was certainly annoyed, even to the extent of suggesting that your interest in me was influenced by my possible inheritance. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that, but if you should hear it, I didn’t want you to think I believed it.”
Roger grimaced, causing the etched lines on his face to deepen. “Some o
f my acquaintances made similar remarks today. That’s one reason for my frustration.”
“Larry’s remark really upset me, for I feared that if you heard such a rumor it would scare you off again.”
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Violet, I’ve made a vow to you. I’m in for the long haul—the only way I’ll leave you now is if you chase me away.”
Her fingers tightened around his strong hand. “That isn’t likely.”
When she started to tell him in detail what she had learned about her mother and father in Kansas City, Roger moved to the couch beside her, and with one arm around her shoulder, he took her hand. As the circumstances of her father’s death unfolded, Roger murmured compassionately more than once, and often used his handkerchief to blot the tears from Violet’s eyes.
When she concluded, she said, “It’s a sordid tale, but I’ve agreed to allow the program to be aired and have authorized my attorney in Kansas City to make the necessary negotiations.”
“Do you know how long before the program will be on television?”
“I have no idea, but Peter Pierce will want to present it as soon as possible, I should think, to be ahead of some other journalist who might not ask for permission.”
“Josiah Conley won’t be pleased.”
“I know! Mr. O’Brien has warned me that he won’t give up on his desire to have me move into his household and mother a dynasty for him, and that I should be aware of possible underhanded tactics.”
“I know Conley by reputation only, but he’s reported to be the kind of man who might exert pressure to have both of us lose our jobs so he could force us to do his bidding.”
“Does he has that much influence in Illinois?”
“I don’t think so, but if he should hook up with the Holland faction, we can expect anything.” He paused, and a whimsical expression crossed his face. “Violet, are you sure you really want to marry me? If you consider that Olivia Holland would welcome you gladly if you should effect a reconciliation with your grandfather, you’re actually turning down two fortunes to marry me, and I’ll never be able to provide you with anything more than a moderate living. Violet, are you sure?”
Violet gazed for a long moment into Roger’s deep brown eyes, and in a flash, her mind monitored all of the characteristics that had drawn her to him. He was a responsible father. He was respected in the community for his forcefulness as a law officer, and also for his compassion for those who were involved in crime. He had a sense of humor. His everyday living exemplified the tenets of his Christian beliefs. Violet’s hand lifted to caress Roger’s face, and the quick response in his eyes to her touch fortified her assurance that with this man she would find a marriage that would satisfy her physical and emotional needs as well as guarantee a secure and harmonious future. She kissed her fingers and rubbed them tenderly across his lips.
“Riches can’t provide what I want in a husband. Believe me, I’ve stopped looking back to the past. I want you. Are you trying to squirm out of marrying me?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“No, but I wanted to give you one last opportunity to back out before I gave you this.” He pulled a jeweler’s box from his pocket. He removed a diamond ring and placed it on the third finger of her left hand.
“Are you willing to accept this ring, remembering that you have to take me in the bargain?”
Violet caught her breath and held it momentarily as she looked down at the cluster of small diamonds, which probably didn’t total a carat, but even at that, was more expensive than Roger may have been able to afford. For a fleeting moment, she compared it to the ornate, multidiamonded ring that Josiah had made her wear at the reception, and it was an unfavorable comparison on the part of the Conley heirloom. The small ring that Roger offered her spelled freedom—freedom to be her own person, freedom to love Roger and rear their children as they wanted, freedom to worship God and to serve Him in the environment of a Christian home. On the other hand, she envisioned the expensive Conley ring as a collar that would enslave her and make her a bondwoman to her grandfather’s whims. Her decision didn’t take a second thought.
“I want to marry you now,” she said, “but I suppose we should hold to our original plans. At least, let’s announce it in the paper, so everyone will be aware.”
He kissed her as she moved closer into the shelter of his arms. She perceived that their life’s journey would not be without its problems and frustrations, but in Roger she had found the support she needed to weather the storms.
“Why not? There isn’t any need to keep our engagement secret. After all, we’re being married in two months.”
Chapter Ten
The telephone was ringing when Violet entered the kitchen, her arms filled with two bags of groceries. She hurriedly deposited the bags on the sink counter and snatched the receiver just before the answering machine took over.
“My name is Clifford Skeen. I’m trying to contact a Violet Conley, who is the teacher of Janie Skeen.”
“This is Violet Conley, and Janie Skeen is a pupil in one of my classes.”
“My wife and I are in Maitland, and if you have time, we would like to stop by for a short visit with you to get some information about Janie. I understand you’re a friend of hers.”
“Please do, I’d like very much to see you,” Violet said and gave him directions to her house from the motel where he was staying. Violet’s heart was alternately pounding and singing as she hurriedly stored the groceries in the proper places. Could this be the answer to Janie’s future? She picked up newspapers and other items from the living room. Saturday was not only grocery day, but cleaning day as well, and she sometimes became careless in her housekeeping near the end of the week.
She was watching at the window when the white sedan drove into her driveway. A tall, lanky man with a full black beard came around the car and opened the passenger side door for his wife. When they entered the house, Clifford Skeen shook hands with Violet.
“Miss Conley, this is my wife, Alta.”
Alta Skeen, who appeared to be at least ten years younger than her husband, was not a beautiful woman, but she had dark green expressive eyes that impressed Violet with their wisdom and kindness. She stood shoulder to shoulder with her tall husband, and although she exhibited a quiet manner, Violet wondered if Alta was not the driving force in their marriage, if it was she who had made this union more successful than the one Clifford Skeen had apparently had with his first wife.
When they were seated in the living room, Skeen cleared his throat. “Miss Conley,” he said, “I’ll come to the point of my visit. I have reason to believe that Janie Skeen is my daughter.”
Violet smiled. “I hope that you are. Janie needs a real family.”
“Where is Janie’s mother?’
“She doesn’t have any idea. It seems her mother disappeared, and when the state social agency couldn’t find her, they placed Janie in a foster home.”
Clifford Skeen shook his head in disgust. “To think that a child of mine would have to live under such conditions. If her mother didn’t want the child, there are a half dozen people in our respective families who would have wanted her. I didn’t remarry for several years, so I couldn’t have cared for her, but my mother would have taken her gladly.”
Alta spoke for the first time. “You see, Miss Conley, we aren’t able to have a child, although it’s important to both of us. We were applying to adopt when we heard from a sister of Clifford’s first wife that he had a child. We had a younger child in mind, but we decided that if Janie was Clifford’s child, we wanted to give her a good home if she needed one. Clifford wanted to have a relationship with her no matter what. We finally traced her here, to Maitland.”
“My first wife’s family is very similar to mine—small-town folks,” Clifford said. “As far as I know, Janie’s mother is the only one that doesn’t live a respectable life. When we were married, I didn’t know that Pat had a problem with alcohol, and I tried t
o help her overcome it, but she couldn’t seem to. She left me, and after two years when she didn’t return, I got a divorce on the basis of desertion, but I had no idea there was a child. Alta and I have talked it over since then and prayed for guidance, and we want to take her, if we can be convinced that she is my daughter.”
Briefly Violet explained about Janie’s flight from her mother, how she had lived on the streets for six months before she had been found and brought to Maitland.
“Do you know when she was born?” Skeen asked.
“I can check the exact date on the school records, but I believe that she was born on May 26, sixteen years ago.”
Clifford thought for a few moments. “Then she could be my daughter, for it was about six months before that when my wife deserted me, so we were still living together when Janie was conceived. All things considered, I suppose I would prefer that she take a DNA test to prove that I am her biological father. Do you think she would submit to such a test? Do you think Janie would want to live with us?”
“Janie is the only one who can answer those questions, although I do know she wants the security of a home. She’s content with Mrs. Grady, but she worries about having to leave there and go to another foster mother.”
“Would you talk to Janie for us? Or perhaps you could invite her over here and we could talk to her now.”
“Nothing would please me more than to have you take Janie, but I wonder if you shouldn’t move in a different direction. She’s a ward of the state right now, and I believe you should work through the agency that handles her case. If her mother is still living, that will complicate the situation. Perhaps you should hire a lawyer to contact them for you.”
“Yes,” Alta agreed, “I can see that is the best procedure, for if we don’t handle this legally and wisely, we could ruin our chances to take Janie into our home, but I would like to see her. We are both overanxious, I suppose,” she admitted with a smile. “I think I was born to be a mother, and I’ve often wondered why God hasn’t sent us a child. When I learned about Janie, I hoped that He had withheld a baby from us so that we would be ready to take Clifford’s daughter.”