Sharon could hardly believe what a good time she was having. All the stress of the last two weeks had simply melted away, and she felt a release of the spirit as she and Temple laughed like children. She knew she should be acting more dignified. Women her age did not run around amusement parks with abandon, but for once she really didn’t care what anyone else thought.
They came to the Ferris wheel, and as Sharon got in a car, she saw that Temple was whispering something to the operator. When he sat down beside her, she asked, “What did you say?”
“Oh, just meddling. I always think I have to run everything. That’s my gift.”
“What did you tell him?” she demanded.
“I’m allowed to have a few secrets, aren’t I? Just enjoy the ride.”
Sharon did enjoy the ride, but after three turns, when their car reached the top of the enormous wheel, the ride stopped, causing the seat to rock alarmingly. The view was breathtaking, but as she peeked over the side toward the ground, Sharon said nervously, “Whew! I feel like we’re sitting on nothing.” It was a long way to the ground, and the laughter and shouts of children sounded muted from this distance.
“It’s nice up here,” Temple said. “Maybe we’ll just stay here for a while.”
Sharon swung her head to look at him. “You told that man to do this, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. He won’t let us down until I give him a signal.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
Temple put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. “Because I wanted a private moment to tell you how much I’ve come to care for you. I never thought I’d care for anyone again after I lost Heather, but God’s given me a great love for you, Sharon. I want to marry you, and I want us to spend the rest of our days together.”
He drew her to him in a fervent but tender kiss, and Sharon forgot for a moment where they were. Feeling the strength of his arm around her and his lips on hers, she savored the sweetness and surrendered herself to him. She clung to him as the car swayed, with the muted sounds of the crowd reaching her as if from a distant planet. Suddenly the rashness of the moment gripped her with fear, and she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “No, Temple. This is wrong. I can’t marry you. I’m past that now. I’ll never marry anyone.”
“Why, Sharon? You’re wasting your life. God has so much more for you.”
“I’m not wasting my life. I’m doing good things. I don’t need . . .” Her voice trailed off, for despite her words and protests she recognized a desire for love coming alive in her that she had thought was long dead and buried. Still in his embrace, she trembled and shook her head. “I can’t do this, Temple. I just can’t be the woman you want me to be.”
Temple said nothing more, just signaled to the operator to bring them down. They got off the ride together in silence and made their way out of the park. Sharon fought back the tears that threatened to embarrass her further. She could not believe that she had ruined another wonderful day with Temple! But maybe he was the one who kept ruining things by pushing her to be something she simply could not be. Why couldn’t he understand that? She was forty years old. Certainly too old to marry now. Yet she craved his friendship and enjoyed the closeness they shared. And she had returned his kiss. . . .
****
It was evening when they arrived back at the Winslow estate. The sun was setting in a glorious display of color, and Sharon could not bear to send Temple away. She invited him to walk with her out on the grounds. Perhaps they could come to some understanding. They paused to look out over the new flower beds Clayton had designed, but she saw little as she pondered the nature of their relationship and where they should go from here.
Temple was the first to break the silence. “Every time I think of you, Sharon, a song from my childhood comes to mind. May I sing it for you?”
Sharon nodded and listened to his strong baritone voice lift on the evening breeze as he sang the sweet lilting melody:
“There’s a harp that is silent, whose strings were of gold,
And whose song, as the jasper, was clear,
Oh, its cadence so rare was of beauty untold
As it fell like a charm on the ear.
“There’s a lute that is ’reft of its beautiful strings—
It is shattered, and silent, and still,
And the song that once rose as on glorified wings,
Now no longer our senses can thrill.”
When he stopped, Sharon let the tears she had been holding back freely fall. “That’s beautiful, Temple. What does that song mean to you? Why does it remind you of me?”
“I would think that’s obvious, Sharon. You are the most beautiful creature alive to me—like a golden harp that was designed for the angels to play. But the strings are silent now, and the beautiful music can’t be heard because you won’t allow yourself to be the woman God made you to be. You’re like a silent harp—hiding away in this beautiful castle in the country that no one else can see.” He swept his arm around the magnificent grounds. “But more importantly, you’ve hidden your God-given melody inside of yourself.”
She started to object, but he shook his head to stop her. “Oh, you let it out a little here and there. Through your art . . . through visiting the poor and giving your money. But that’s only a part of what God wants, Sharon. He wants you. He wants all of you. He wants you to be the wonderful instrument He has created, on which He can play beautiful melodies for all the world to hear. He didn’t make you to be a silent harp—for others only to look at but never to be played.” He looked at her with eyes that were almost sad. “Am I making any sense to you?”
“Maybe . . .” Sharon said quietly. “But what . . . what does that have to do with us?”
“You’re as silent as the harp in that song. And what good is a silent harp to anyone?”
“Silent?” she came back. “I don’t know what you mean by that. I’m not a harp and I’m not silent!”
“God made you a woman, and a woman is not meant to be alone. A woman needs a man and a family. But you won’t allow that in your life because you’ve made an idol of Robert—and I’m sure he would have hated that.”
“That’s . . . that’s not so!”
“It is so, Sharon. And that other fellow who was after your money—he betrayed your trust, and now you’ve built a wall around your life so that nobody can get close enough to hurt you. You live behind your wall of money, hiding from the things you really need.” Finally he said, “You’re like a silent harp, a beautiful instrument that is of no use to anyone because it’s not fulfilling the very thing it was created for.”
“No . . . no, don’t talk like this, Temple! I am trying to live the way God wants me to. You’re not being fair to say these things.”
He studied her face. “Why won’t you marry me, Sharon? I know you love me, and I love you more than words can say. Is it because of money?”
The question struck her with the force of a blow as he touched a sensitive spot deep within her. A sense of shame came over her as she realized this was indeed the reason she was holding back her feelings for Temple and not allowing herself to surrender fully to his love. She could not deny that the difference in their attitudes toward money had influenced her thinking.
“You’ve got the wrong idea about money. Money is not what makes a man—or a woman—valuable to God. It’s only people who think money is so important.”
Sharon had heard all she cared to. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she whispered, “I can’t see you anymore, Temple. This is never going to work between you and me.”
He sighed and gazed into her eyes. “I won’t talk anymore about marriage, but don’t expect me to stay completely out of your life.”
Sharon was secretly glad he didn’t agree to go away for good. “We can be friends, then. But let’s not talk any more of marriage.”
He took both of her hands in his. “I won’t . . . I promise. But I also promise to be here lis
tening when that silent harp wakes up and begins playing her very own melody!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Leland’s Secret
“Mr. Wright will be just a few more moments. Would you please take a seat, Mr. Winslow. He won’t be long.”
“Yes, I’ll wait.”
“There’s the latest paper in case you haven’t seen it.”
“Thank you.” Leland sat down in the blue velour chair and picked up the paper. The photo under the September 16 date on the front page showed the new German flag, just unveiled this week. “The swastika, a symbol of prosperity and good fortune,” the caption explained. To Leland it simply looked like a hideous broken cross. With growing concern lately, he had read the news filtering out of Europe over the remilitarization of Germany and the rise of the Nazi Party. He felt in his gut the world would someday regret that they were allowing Germany to re-arm, but he also felt helpless to do anything about it. Most Americans gave little thought to what was happening across the Atlantic, and Leland himself had his own business troubles to contend with.
He glumly searched through the paper, finding very little that was promising. The Depression still held the nation in an iron grasp, and the result of the ongoing financial woes was that Leland had arrived at the First National Bank of New York to beg for a loan. During the last six months he had seen a dramatic downturn in his business and had lost millions. The decision to seek a loan had come hard for him, but it had to be done.
“Mr. Wright is free now, Mr. Winslow.”
“Thank you.”
Getting up from his seat, Leland placed the paper on the coffee table and walked through the large door into the office of Daniel Wright. The bank president got up from his desk and came over to offer his hand. “Hello, Leland. Good to see you.”
“Daniel. How are you?”
The two men exchanged pleasantries, but Leland sensed a tension in the face of the tall man. He had banked at this institution for years, and their meetings had always been pleasant, but today he felt a constraint in the countenance of Daniel Wright. Finally Leland found the courage to ask, “What about the loan, Daniel?”
Wright hesitated, apparently searching for the right words, and Leland felt a coldness close around his heart. He hastened to explain his position. “This downturn has happened so suddenly. I know we can come back from it with some help. The trouble is all of our equipment is outworn. New techniques have come along. If we can just restructure and get new equipment, I know we’ll be all right.”
“I hope so, Leland. You’ve been a faithful supporter of this bank for years, but the meeting didn’t go well.” Wright looked at his desk and bit his lower lip. “I did my best to get the committee to approve your loan, but in the end they declined. These are very hard times for everyone. I’m sure you understand that.”
A silence fell across the office as Leland absorbed the bad news. “All right,” he said wearily. “I know you did your best.”
“These things can change quickly,” Wright added. “I’ve seen loans denied one month, and the next month there’s an entirely new feeling. I’ll work on the committee man to man. We’ll try again in a few weeks. Try to keep your head up.”
“Thanks, Daniel. Well, I guess I’ll be going.”
As the door closed behind Leland, he heard Daniel say aloud, “There are times when I hate being a banker!”
****
That evening over supper, Daniel Wright found himself telling his wife about the meeting with Leland Winslow. “I hated to turn him down,” he said, “but we did some investigating, and the Winslow lumber business isn’t what it used to be. Leland took a pretty bad beating when the market fell in twenty-nine, but he did pull out of that all right. Now this trouble is perhaps worse than the first.”
“You mean he’s going to lose his business?”
“I’m afraid it could come to that.”
Ethel digested this, and when supper was over, she went right to the telephone to call her closest friend, Mary Mellon. It was very unusual for her husband to reveal something spoken in confidence in his office; therefore she took it as a sign that she should warn her friend. When a woman answered, Ethel said, “Is that you, Mary?”
“Yes, you should know my voice by this time, Ethel.”
“I had to be sure. I’m going to tell you something in absolute confidence. You must promise not to tell anyone about it and certainly not where you heard it.”
“Of course. What in the world is it?”
“It’s about Leland Winslow. . . .” Ethel quickly gave the facts, then ended by saying, “It’s really wrong of me to tell you this, but if I had a daughter thinking of marrying a certain young man, I’d want to know about the state of his inheritance.”
“I’m so glad you called me. I’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Do you think Sarah will listen to your concern over the fortunes of the Winslow family?”
“I hope so. We all like Clayton, but this sounds serious. It could lead to social disaster for us if Sarah were to marry a young man who’s about to be bankrupt. I’ll have a talk with her, and I’ll of course keep your name out of it. Thank you so much for calling, Ethel.”
“Let me know how it turns out.”
“I certainly will. Good-bye.”
****
“You wanted to see me, Dad?” Clayton said as he entered his father’s study. “What’s wrong? You look worried.”
Leland had kept his secret for months now, but he could no longer keep his business problems from his family. They would have to know sooner or later. He stalled a moment by asking, “Has Sarah decided yet whether to marry you?”
“No, she’s still walking a tightrope.” He shrugged. “One day it’s on, the next it’s off.”
Leland could not understand young people these days. When he had fallen in love with his wife years ago, he had felt intense emotional turmoil. Clayton seemed to feel none of this. Leland shook his head and launched into the matter at hand. “I want to talk to you about the business, son. I hate to be the bearer of evil tidings, but the Depression has finally caught up with us.”
Clayton knew very little about the inner workings of the Winslow lumber empire. It had been assumed that he would one day inherit his father’s business, but he did not show much interest in learning about it and had little grasp of the overall operation. “What’s wrong, Dad?”
“The Depression is what’s wrong. People aren’t building houses, and when people don’t build houses, Winslow Industries loses money.”
Clayton saw the weariness and concern in his father’s eyes. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”
“Clayton, I might as well tell you.” He rubbed his face. “We may lose the business—and even this house.”
Clayton could not fathom what his father had just said. The family business was just a given in his life, something he had always taken for granted—like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. He had been a rather thoughtless young man, which was not altogether his own fault. His parents had always provided everything he needed, and never had his father given him the slightest hint that anything was amiss. The Depression had closed thousands of businesses, but Clayton had never considered the possibility that the economy would affect his own family. “I didn’t know things were bad for us.”
“I didn’t want to worry you, son—and don’t say anything to your mother or your sister. This is just between us for now.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“At this point it looks as if the only thing we can do is pray. I went to the bank today, and they turned me down for a loan that would have saved the business.”
“Turned you down! But, Dad, you’ve banked there for a millennium!”
“I know it, and the president’s a good friend of mine. But all loans have to be approved by a committee, and the committee didn’t feel we’d be able to repay such a large sum. What I wanted to do was update everything
. We’ve fallen behind in machinery, equipment—virtually everything—and without a loan there isn’t much hope.”
Clayton could not control his thoughts. They fluttered through his head like bats in an attic. “You know, Dad, I’ve always taken things for granted.”
“I know you have. You’re no different from the way I was at your age. We’ll try our best to pull through, son.”
This was cold comfort to Clayton, and as he left, he wondered, Is there any way I could make it on my own? The thought frightened him, for he had never done anything on his own. His parents had provided everything, and as he walked through the mansion that he had assumed would always be there, he was shaken to realize that none of his surroundings were necessarily permanent.
What will Sarah think about this? he wondered. Her family has plenty of money. Should I even tell her?
****
As Sharon and Temple came out of the church the following Sunday, they found the sun shining brightly. “It’s going to be warm today, Temple.”
“Yes, that’s all right with me. I like hot weather. I hate the winter. Winters were pretty mild in Oklahoma, where I grew up, but I can do without these New York winters. Give me the heat any day.”
“Did you go to college there? In Oklahoma?”
“I never went to college. I went to war instead.”
The crowd was filing along the street on either side of them, and when they reached Sharon’s car, she said, “I don’t see your motorcycle.”
“No, I walked.”
“Oh. Can I take you someplace?”
“Sure. You can take me to the zoo.”
“To the zoo?”
“Sure. When’s the last time you went to the Bronx Zoo?”
Sharon tried to think. “I don’t know. I was no more than ten or eleven years old.”
“Time you went back, then.”
She had been seeing Temple regularly all summer. After their discussion about marriage three months ago, he had kept his promise to never mention it again, and she was relieved. She enjoyed their friendship and wanted to keep it on that level, and she assumed he felt the same way now.
The Silent Harp Page 21