“I’ll tell Tony you were here. He’ll be sorry he no get to see you.”
The two left the apartment, and when they were outside, Temple said, “Those kids sure love you. You have a way with them.”
“I haven’t been around children much except for Clayton, and that was a long time ago.”
“Some people have a way with kids and some don’t.”
Sharon did not know how to answer this. As they walked to the car, she looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. I think I’d better get home. Will I see you tomorrow morning at church?”
“Sure thing, and . . . I’ve been thinking . . . maybe after church we could take in a ball game. I’d enjoy having some company.”
She didn’t answer, and when Temple looked at her, he was troubled by her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Sure there is. I can tell you’re trying to hide something. Don’t you like baseball?”
“Oh, Temple, it’s just that . . . I have a memory about going to a ball game that makes me sad.”
“How can a baseball game make you sad?”
“Only because Robert took me to a game once. I’d never been to one. It was one of the things he did for me that got me out of my sheltered life.”
“That sounds like a good memory.”
“I guess it really is. I just don’t want to spoil it by going to another game.”
“That was a long time ago. This is another day, another game. I wish you’d go with me. I get a little lonesome going by myself.”
Sharon turned to look at him. As Clayton insisted, he was a rough character—like a machine intended for hard use. She was used to men who were polished and genteel, but there was none of this in him. She liked his smile, but she had noticed that at other times his face held elements of sadness. And yet she remembered the ease with which he had fought off her attacker, and she noticed now a C-shaped scar just to the right of his eyebrow and wondered how it had gotten there. Despite his roughness, there was an endearing quality in him she could not explain.
“Well, do I pass inspection?”
For some inexplicable reason, Sharon was suddenly flooded with memories of Robert. She remembered the ball game and how she had sat beside him eating a hot dog. She remembered the love they had shared, and tears came to her eyes, unbidden. She was horrified to feel them rolling down her cheeks. She fumbled for a handkerchief, but Temple pulled out his and gave it to her, saying gently, “It’s all right to cry. I do it myself sometimes.”
“I don’t believe that!”
“When I lost Heather I did.”
Sharon looked at him, stunned.
“I think it’s fine that you still remember Robert. I probably would have liked him, and I’ll bet he would smile if you went to another baseball game.”
Sharon smiled at that thought, knowing for certain that Temple was right. Robert had been that kind of a man. He would not want her to punish herself, and he would have approved of her going to a ball game with this unusual man who had come into her life.
“All right. But I’ll warn you, I know nothing about baseball.”
“All you have to do is yell, and I’ll tell you when to cut loose. The Yankees are playing the Red Sox. We’re sure to see a good fight when those two get together. We can leave right after church tomorrow and have our lunch at the stadium. I’ll get us some good seats.”
****
The next day Temple and Sharon sat together at church, and after the service they both drove to Yankee Stadium, she in her station wagon with Temple following on his motorcycle. For once he did not expect her to pay, and at the stadium ticket window he fumbled around and pulled some bills out of his shirt pocket. He never carried a billfold like other men, just loose money in whatever pocket was handy.
He led her up into the stands and said, “Here we are. Right behind first base. It’s the best place to sit. You can see each pitch clearly.”
As they sat down she mentioned that Babe Ruth had pitched for the Red Sox during the game she’d seen with Robert, and she asked if Ruth would be playing today.
“Gee, kiddo—you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t know much about baseball, were you?” Temple said with a grin. When she shrugged he explained. “The Red Sox sold Ruth to the Yankees in 1920 for a paltry sum. And now the Yankees beat them every time! They call it ‘the curse of the Bambino.’ In fact, Ruth did so well for the Yankees that this stadium we’re in is called ‘the house that Ruth built.’”
“Wow,” she said, looking around the impressive stadium. “So we’ll see him play for the Yankees today, then?”
“Not so fast,” Temple said. “He’s playing for the Boston Braves this year, but I just saw in the paper today that he’s retiring for good. Baseball is losing its greatest player ever!”
Sharon enjoyed learning more about the game and found herself getting involved with it, though she did not know the fine points as Temple obviously did. Munching on a mustard-covered hot dog, she was intrigued by one of the Yankees who was obviously a favorite of the fans.
“What do you know about Lou Gehrig?” she asked. “The fans seem to love him.”
“Highest-paid player in baseball,” he said, shelling a couple of peanuts and popping them into his mouth. “The Yankees are giving him a whopping thirty thousand this year! He deserves it. He’s one of the greatest players in the game.”
Sharon was pulling for the Yankees—perhaps because it had been Robert’s favorite team, or perhaps because she enjoyed watching the popular Gehrig. She sat up and took special notice when Gehrig came to bat in the bottom of the eighth inning with the bases loaded, two outs, and the score tied two to two. When the first pitch came, Gehrig did not lift his bat, and the umpire signaled, “Strike one!”
Sharon was so excited she jumped to her feet and surprised even herself by yelling, “Why, you idiot, you’re blind as a bat!”
Temple pulled her back, laughing. “Hey, calm down.”
“Calm down? Didn’t you see that was a ball?”
“It’s whatever the umpire calls it. If the ball is ten feet over the batter’s head and the umpire calls it a strike, it’s a strike. Nobody ever won an argument with an umpire.”
A second pitch came and the umpire called it a strike. “What’s with that stupid umpire!” she declared.
“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s only a game, you know.”
The pitcher wound up and let the ball go a third time. Gehrig uncoiled like a steel spring, and everyone in the ball park heard the crack of the bat.
“That’s outta here!” Temple shouted, now jumping to his feet. “That’s four runs! They have it in the bag now!”
Sharon leaped up too, and as the ball cleared the fence, she jumped up and down, screaming, “Thataway, Lou! Thataway!”
She turned to Temple and in her excitement threw her arms around him. He hugged her back for a moment, but then she pulled away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No need to be sorry,” he said with a smile.
They found themselves locking eyes, not able to look at what was happening on the field. There in the middle of Yankee Stadium, with the crowd around them going mad over Gehrig’s home run, Temple threw his arms back around Sharon and kissed her. Taken completely by surprise, she returned his kiss, feeling the heat of reckless emotions. As he responded to her, she sensed his intense loneliness and desire for her, even in the midst of the yelling crowd. But then she came to her senses and quickly pulled away. “Don’t ever do that again!”
Temple smiled in return. “It takes two to make a kiss like that,” he said evenly.
Sharon grabbed her purse and whirled around, shoving her way through the crowd toward the exit. He followed her out to her car in the parking lot, where he grabbed her arm to stop her before she got in.
She pulled her arm away, saying tersely, “Good-bye, Temple.”
“Wait, Sharon. Let’s talk. Didn’t
you enjoy yourself?”
She hesitated, then said, “Yes, I enjoyed myself, but I’m sorry about the way it ended.”
“I’m not,” he said. “That was the first time you let yourself escape from the secret place you hide in, Sharon. I’m happy to know there’s a real woman living behind the face you put on. It’s good to be passionate about life . . . and to let it show now and then!”
She just stared at him because she had no answer, then again said tersely, “I have to get home. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Sharon. I hope I’ll see you again.”
She got in the car without a word and drove off. She saw him in her rearview mirror watching her leave and felt tears stinging her eyes. She was furious—not with Temple so much as with herself. She could not understand what had happened. The two were so different, and yet she had yielded to his embrace like a . . . like a wanton woman! she thought. She had felt desire and was ashamed of herself.
While she drove home she thought back over the day—sitting next to Temple in church, enjoying conversation over a hot dog, experiencing the thrill of the game. She was thinking about the kiss when she got home and met her father in the foyer, his face ashen.
“What is it, Dad?” Sharon said, her concern causing her to quickly forget the uncomfortable scene with Temple.
“It’s your mother,” Leland said. “She’s taken a turn for the worse. I’m afraid it might be influenza.”
Sharon stood momentarily speechless. She knew how deadly the flu virus could be, remembering how millions around the world had died of the Spanish flu after the Great War.
“There isn’t a minute to waste, then, Dad. Call Dr. Evans at once!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Promise
Dr. Melvin Evans stood in the center of the Winslows’ parlor, a frown on his bearded square face. He was a short, stocky man with legs like stumps. He looked more like a wrestler than a physician, but he was one of the finest physicians around. He spoke in a harsh, raspy voice that belied his compassion for the sick. But his concern was evident as he stood before the Winslow family.
“I’m afraid Mrs. Winslow isn’t doing as well as I would hope. This flu could turn into pneumonia, and with her weak heart, that would not be good at all.”
“She doesn’t like hospitals,” Sharon said, a tremble in her voice. “She’s always been afraid of them.”
Dr. Evans nodded. “I know. She begged me not to make her go there.”
“But shouldn’t she go if she’s this sick?” Leland asked anxiously. “I want the best for her.”
“It’s a choice you and she will have to discuss. She’s so set against it that it might hurt more than help. Actually,” he said, shrugging his beefy shoulders, “I think she’ll be just as well off here at home. I don’t mean to frighten you, but there’s really nothing that can be done for an illness like this in a hospital. If she needed surgery, then of course hospitalization would be required. But what she needs now is peace and quiet and rest—and the very best nursing. Probably around the clock.”
“I’ll be here all the time,” Sharon said quickly.
“You can’t watch after her twenty-four hours a day, Miss Winslow,” Evans said. “You should consider hiring a nurse to help you.”
“Could you recommend some good candidates?” Leland said.
“Of course, I have several I’m familiar with.” The doctor gave them half a dozen names, including that of Seana Morgan.
“Seana Morgan! Why, she’s the daughter of our grounds-keeper here,” Leland said with surprise. “Is she good enough?”
“I would say she’s the best of those I’ve named. I’ve had constant contact with her at the hospital. She helped me once before with a very difficult patient in a private home. She has a very good reputation.”
“So you think she would be suitable for this job?” Sharon asked.
“Certainly! She’s firm but very comforting to patients. That means a great deal, you know, Miss Winslow. Sick people need comfort for the soul almost as much as they do medication for the body. Yes, if she’s available, I would recommend her strongly.”
“Let’s see if she’s willing to do it, Dad,” Sharon said at once.
Leland nodded. “Very well. I’ll call the hospital and try to engage her right away.”
Dr. Evans was pleased by their decision. He packed up his equipment, assuring them he would make as many calls as necessary. As he picked up his black bag and jammed his derby down over his head, he said, “I’ll feel better with Seana Morgan on the job. If she has a fault it might be that she’s a little over-religious, but for some patients that’s good. I think your mother is one of those who might profit by it.”
Sharon showed the doctor out and then stood by the doorway of the study while her father called the hospital. She could tell by her father’s end of the conversation that things were going well.
When he hung up the phone, he turned to Sharon and said, “Everything’s set. Seana will start first thing in the morning.”
Together they went to Lucille’s bedroom, where Clayton was sitting in a chair at the bedside. Leland took his wife’s hand and told her that the doctor had suggested she have nursing care at home. He explained that Seana was highly recommended and that she would start the next morning.
“You hear that, Mother?” Clayton said. “You’re going to have a fine nurse. Seana and I will have you back on your feet in no time.”
“Thank you, dear, that’s so good to know.” Lucille was pale, and her voice was weak. “I hate to be so much trouble.”
“Trouble?” Leland said, leaning over and kissing Lucille on the brow. “There’s no such thing as trouble where you’re concerned, my dear. We’ll have you out of this bed before you know it!”
****
When Seana arrived early the next morning, Sharon greeted her and took her up to her mother’s room. Clayton had been with his mother for the last three hours and now turned over the responsibility to Seana. He went downstairs and moped around the house, too worried about his mother to feel like doing anything. He loved his mother dearly, even though he knew she had shamelessly spoiled him. All of his life he had been able to go to her with any problem. Now he worried that she would not recover.
He walked aimlessly about the house, going outside from time to time. It was a beautiful June day, but he had no eye for the beauty of the grounds. He did pass by the spot where the new pond was to be located and thought about his disagreement with Seana. The argument had rankled him, and Sarah had asked him several times since then if he still found the red-haired daughter of the groundskeeper attractive. Clayton had wished fervently he had never mentioned such a thing.
At noon Clayton went into the kitchen, where Mabel fixed him a chicken-salad sandwich. He had little appetite and ate only half of it, then nibbled at an apple. After finishing he went upstairs to his mother’s bedroom and knocked quietly. The door opened and Seana came out quickly and shut the door behind her. She was wearing a white nurse’s uniform, with white stockings and white shoes, and her face was framed by the wealth of red hair. “What is it, Mr. Winslow?”
“I want to see my mother.”
“I’m sorry. You can’t see her right now.”
Instantly Clayton grew stubborn. “She’s my mother. I can see her if I want to.”
“She’s resting now, and she doesn’t need to be disturbed. You can see her later.”
Clayton’s lips drew together tightly. He was unaccustomed to being challenged, yet somehow this woman seemed to do so constantly. She was watching him with her full attention, and he noted that her eyes were a peculiar green that seemed to have no bottom. He also could not help noticing the rich curve of her mouth. Her rosy complexion was fair and smooth, as beautiful as Clayton had ever seen.
As for her figure, the light that came through the window at the end of the hall was kind to her, showing the full, soft lines of her body not concealed by the austere nurse’s uniform. He saw her
willfulness in the set of her jaw and the hint of pride in her eyes, and the fragrance that hung about her was intoxicating. He found her a powerfully attractive girl, but he was determined not to let that show.
Clayton stood resolutely and shook his head. “Seana Morgan, you must get up every morning saying to yourself, ‘Now, how can I find a way to irritate Clayton Winslow today!’”
The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and showed in the tilt of her head. “That’s right. I spend all of my spare time thinking of ways to frustrate you.”
Clayton laughed shortly. “I guess that’s why you’re such an expert at it. How’s my mother?”
“She’s the same as she was when you saw her this morning. She’s very weak, and she needs complete and total rest and no aggravation.”
“And you think I aggravate her.”
“You have been known to aggravate people.”
Clayton flushed. “I’ve been working up to tell you—” He broke off, unable to find the words and then shook his head. “Look, Seana, I got off to a bad start with you, and I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m sorry that I offended you the first time we met in the stable.”
“Well, there is nice you are!” Seana smiled fully then, exposing brilliantly white teeth. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that I didn’t mean to shove you down into that mess. I just wanted to get away from you.” She put out her hand like a man would. “All right. We’re square on that.”
He took her hand and noticed that it was surprisingly strong and not as soft as most women’s hands. “You’re quite a versatile person—fixing tractors, working in the garden, nursing. Your hands are a working woman’s hands.”
Seana lifted her eyebrows. “You’re not holding my hand, are you?”
Clayton instantly dropped her hand and laughed softly. “I suppose I was, but please don’t shove me down again. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
The two stood in the hallway, speaking quietly so as not to disturb the patient. “Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?” Seana asked.
“That sounds good.”
The Silent Harp Page 19