Brentwood

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “And these are the children,” went on Marjorie. “This is Gresham, otherwise Bud for short, and this is Bonnie, and Sunny.”

  Sunny, nothing daunted, stepped forward and put out a sticky hand.

  “Merwy Twismas!” he volunteered.

  Evan gave him but a casual glance, ignoring the friendly little hand entirely, and kept his eyes on Marjorie.

  “I came,” said he in a rudely lowered tone, “to take you out this evening. Can you get your wraps and come at once? Will you need to change?”

  He glanced down at her pretty knitted dress with annoyance. This was a part of finding her in this little insignificant house in a common neighborhood, that she should not be dressed for the evening! Christmas night and in a daytime dress! Evan was very proper about such things. He always dressed for dinner. Could it be possible that Marjorie could revert to type in such a few short days?

  But Marjorie did not look embarrassed at his evident disapproval. She lifted calm eyes to his face, and speaking in an ordinary tone that she was not attempting to disguise, she said, “No, I’m sorry, I couldn’t go this evening. I already have an engagement for later in the evening, and this is our first Christmas together. I wouldn’t break it up for anything. You know this is what I came for, and we’re having a grand time. Won’t you stay and enjoy it with us? And then go on with us to the service later? Let me take your hat. Take off your overcoat. It’s warm in here.”

  Betty gave a quick little frightened gasp almost like a smothered protest, and rose quickly, plucking a protesting Sunny from the midst and hurrying him upstairs to get his sticky hands washed. The grown-ups slid out into the hall and began to talk about the weather and politics in low, serious tones, a pleasant masculine clique. Only Mother on the couch and little Bonnie, her arm about Marjorie, her head resting against her lovingly, were left to hear what went on.

  “Really, Marjorie, I don’t see that you are required to do duty all day and evening, too!” Evan’s tone was exceedingly annoyed. He spoke with an air of authority. “I should suppose when I have taken the trouble to come all this distance to surprise you, that you might spare a few hours to me. I have something important to tell you.”

  Marjorie’s face did not cloud over. She had made her decision the minute she saw Evan enter the door and she meant to stick to it. Not for anything would she desert her dear new family on Christmas night. Not for anybody would she miss the Christmas night service at Brentwood! There might be a time for Evan Brower later, she was by no means sure, but it was not tonight.

  “Well, I’m just as sorry as I can be, Evan, to disappoint you, but it’s quite impossible. If you had let me know that you thought of coming this way, I would have told you not to count on Christmas at all, as I had made other plans. I do appreciate your kind thought for me, I do indeed! And the orchids were lovely! So nice of you to send them! But you’ll just have to excuse me tonight, unless you find it possible to join us.”

  She looked sweetly up into his face with an unruffled brow, and suddenly she knew that she was hoping he wouldn’t stay. He didn’t seem to fit with the rest. He had a lovely, rich, cultured voice, but would he camp down with the others and sing carols and enter into the quiet spirit that had pervaded the room before he came? Would he know how? Would he understand it? And yet, Evan was very active in the church at home. What did it all mean? Was something wrong in herself? She didn’t know. She hadn’t time to think it out now. She was here, and this was Christmas, her first Christmas in her father’s house, and she didn’t want it spoiled.

  Evan’s cold, haughty, hurt voice was replying.

  “That would be quite impossible. I am hunting up some friends on the other side of the city!” Was there the least perceptible emphasis on the words friends, and other side?

  And then Evan turned and stalked haughtily from the room without anything but the merest nod in Mrs. Gay’s direction.

  The low conversation in the hall had suddenly ceased. The participants hadn’t been able to think of anything to cover the haughty refusal of that strange voice. Ted cast dagger glances toward the intruder, and even quiet Mr. Gay lifted a grave, disapproving look toward him.

  It was just at that crucial instant, as Marjorie was following the offended caller to the door, that Sunny’s voice rang down the stairs.

  “Betty, vas that the man vat sent my new sister Margwy those or–or–orkid parasikes? Vas it, Betty? Is he a parasike hisself like you vas talking?”

  “Shhhh!” came Betty’s soft warning.

  “Vy do I have to be shsh, Betty? Is he a twamp?”

  “Shhhhhh!”

  A sound of little feet jerked suddenly by force across the floor above, and a quick wail.

  “I don’t not like him anyvay. He vouldn’t shake hans. He vouldn’t say Mewy Twismus!” The last syllable was cut short by the sharp closing of a door upstairs, and Gideon Reaver turned quickly to hide the twinkle in his eye from Ted, who was glaring defiantly at everybody.

  But Marjorie, her color rising and her head a bit high, walked coolly to the door with her caller.

  “Too bad, Evan, to have this ride for nothing, but it just couldn’t be helped,” she said sweetly, and smiled indulgently upon him.

  At the door he turned savagely upon her and said in a low growl, “When can I see you, alone? In the morning? Will you deign to lunch with me?”

  “Why, yes, I think I could,” said Marjorie, considering.

  “Very well, I’ll call you on the telephone. What is the number here?”

  “Oh, we haven’t a telephone,” she answered brightly, as though that were quite a usual thing in her circle of friends. “Suppose I just be ready when you say you will come. Half past twelve or one? Which will be the most convenient for you?”

  “Eleven!” said Evan crisply. “I’m flying back in the afternoon, and I’m taking you with me! Better have your things packed, and we can take them with us where we lunch.”

  “Oh, no!” laughed Marjorie firmly. “I’m not going back yet. I haven’t finished my visit. But I’ll be ready at eleven if you like. Thank you again for the orchids. So nice of you to think of me. Oh”—as he swung the door smartly open—“it’s snowing again, isn’t it? How lovely! Christmas always has twice the thrill when it snows sometime during the day! Well, good night! I’ll be ready at eleven.”

  Then he was gone. They could hear the taxi chugging away down the little common street, and Marjorie came smiling and dropped down beside her mother’s couch in her old place again.

  “Come on! Let’s get going!” said Ted. “I’d like to hear these two sing a duet together.”

  “Why not make it a trio or a quartet?”

  The children slipped into their places again, and a subdued Sunny, with traces of recent tears damp on his gold lashes, came creeping in close beside Marjorie and slid a clean little hand into hers. She squeezed it hard, and stooping, softly kissed his round cheek.

  So they started to sing again, discovering a lot of sweet old Christmas songs they all knew.

  A little after eight Gideon arose.

  “Friends, I’ve got to tear myself away,” he said. “I have a service at nine. I came here originally to get recruits for it, but I haven’t the heart to tear you apart on Christmas night. I’d appreciate it awfully, of course, if all of you could drive over with me and help with the singing, but I shan’t blame you if you don’t want to come. Though it would be great to have that last song repeated, and if the doctor would come, too, he and Ted and I could do the trio! As for the girls, well, we could have a mighty fine quartet if they two and you two men would be willing! There, now! I wasn’t going to ask you to go!”

  “He wasn’t going to ask us! No, he hasn’t the heart to tear us away! And yet he’s fixed it all up for us to be on the program!” laughed the doctor. “But friend, you’re going to have the surprise of your life. We’re going, of course, aren’t we, Betty?”

  “Oh!” said Betty, both eagerness and withdrawal fighting fo
r the mastery in her eyes. “But I have got to put the children to bed—and Mother—”

  “Yes, Mother’s sat up long enough for the first time, even if it is Christmas,” said the doctor, “so Ted and I are carrying her up to her bed right now, and one of you girls can undress her and put her in, while the other one sees these two sleepyheads into their cribs. That oughtn’t to take but five minutes if you work fast, ought it?” He appealed to them both. “As for you, Father Gay, I shouldn’t allow you out in the snowstorm anyway, so you’re elected to watch over your family while we go a-caroling! Come on, Ted, all set?”

  “All set!” said Ted, and stooping, gathered his mother into his arms, while the doctor made a very efficient second, and the procession started laughing gaily up the stairs.

  Marjorie, with Sunny and Bonnie in tow, passed her brother as he was coming down the stairs, a kind of triumph in his tread.

  “Is Betty going?” she whispered as she passed.

  “I don’t dare ask,” he answered, grinning. “Leave it to Doc. Perhaps he can work the trick!”

  But Betty was flying as fast as any of them to get ready. Here was a chance to go out with a good-looking young man and wear her new fur coat and her new gray hat, and Betty was not the one to turn that down, even if it was just a religious service in a little old despised common chapel! She came shining down in her glad finery as soon as any of them, and Ted looked at Marjorie and winked.

  By common consent the doctor went with Betty. They did invite Bud to ride with them, but he shrugged his shoulders and said he guessed he’d go with Ted. There was more room in the minister’s car, so they drove off into the whitest, loveliest Christmas snow that could be imagined.

  Seated in the laurel-and-hemlock-decked chapel between Bud and Ted, Marjorie studied the pleasant, keen face of the doctor sitting in front of them beside Betty. She wondered if he was a born-again-one, too, or just a man of the world? She studied her sister’s face, too, and saw the alert, keen interest in everything that went on.

  It was a beautiful service. The singing was from the heart. Cultured and uncultured voices, mingled in one Christmas song of the redeemed.

  There was much singing and prayer, wonderful, tender prayer from both the minister and the people. There was a heart-searching talk from Gideon Reaver, pressing home the fact to each soul present that the Lord Jesus was born and suffered and died just for him. Marjorie had never realized it as a personal thing like that before. She was deeply stirred. Young Bud sat and listened wide-eyed. He had taken a great liking to the minister that afternoon. He appeared to be hearing the gospel story for himself for the first time in his life.

  And then after another tender, brief prayer Gideon called for his quartet, and Ted calmly rose and let the way to the front. Marjorie, as she walked behind him, marveled at his coolness, his reverent attitude, as if he were a young priest going to perform his duty at the altar. She found herself a little nervous about Betty, whether she would come up after all. Betty hadn’t said she would sing at the service, though she had joined with them in the few minutes’ practice they had just before the service.

  But Betty came, and her alto was deep and sweet. Betty had a nice voice. Marjorie found herself thinking that Betty should have some lessons by and by when things got straightened out.

  Then they sang:

  Oh, listen to our wondrous story,

  Counted once among the lost,

  Yet, One came down from heaven’s glory,

  Saving us at awful cost!

  Who saved us from eternal loss?

  Who but God’s Son upon the cross?

  What did He do?

  He died for you.

  Where is He now?

  Believe it thou,

  In heaven interceding.

  It wasn’t exactly a Christmas hymn, but it exactly fitted the Christmas message that Gideon had given. Marjorie found her heart swelling with the message, which a few short days before she would not have understood so well. And when they came to the last verse, she found herself thinking of Betty and making the song a longing for her to know something of the wonder and joy that had just come to her own heart.

  Will you surrender to this Savior?

  To His Scepter humbly bow?

  You, too, shall come to know His favor,

  He will save you, save you now!”

  Her whole soul was in the words as she sang them, and she found herself longing for the salvation of all those around her, who perhaps did not know the truth of what it meant to be saved, as she had but just discovered it.

  Ted was singing earnestly. His voice was going to be good. It had a fresh sincerity that made people listen. Astonishingly, the doctor seemed to be enjoying the singing, too. It must be that even if he wasn’t a Christian he had a Christian background somewhere, for he had seemed familiar with that song, though it wasn’t a common one. And he had certainly listened to the message.

  “Something real about this place,” she heard him say to Betty half an hour later as they stood at the door about to plunge into the snow and go to the car.

  Betty didn’t answer, but she gave a quick glance up at him as if she were trying to understand his point of view.

  Then they went home with the memory of the little chapel in its gala greenery, and of the sweet songs, the tender looks on faces, and the Christian testimonies with which the meeting had closed, all a holy, beautiful ending to a day that had been wonderful from start to finish.

  Marjorie lay awake for a long time and thought it over, step by step, thrilling anew at the memory. There was just one part she forgot to review, and that was the interlude in which Evan Brower figured. But then, she was having to go home to Chicago pretty soon, and there would be plenty of time to deal with Evan Brower. That was what the back of her mind thought, while she brushed lightly over the episode of his coming to call and held on to the things she had most enjoyed.

  Of course, she was having to go to lunch with him tomorrow, but there was time enough to consider that when tomorrow came. She wanted to hold on to each moment of this day and get the last drop of joy it had to give before it passed into oblivion.

  And not the least among her memories was that of Gideon Reaver, what he had said, what he had done, the comical expression of his face now and again, the quick deep fervor of his voice as he spoke, the merriment of his laughter, the true look in his eyes, the simplicity of his prayers, and the earnestness of his message. These all hovered in her memory, making a picture that intrigued her. What a wonderful young man to be a minister! Would he grow in dignity and conceit as he grew older? She couldn’t believe it. He seemed as utterly unspoiled and humble as a little child. He seemed—was it irreverent to think so?—almost like his Master, the Lord Jesus Christ! But no, that could not be irreverent. Wasn’t that what Christians were meant to be, like Christ? Only she had never seen a young man before who had impressed her with the thought as he did. She fell asleep thinking about it, thrilling at the memory of how he had led her in a few brief words to understand that she was saved and to long to walk with God.

  She must ask him again someday about that walking with God. It was a wonderful thought, to walk with the eternal God!

  Betty lay beside her, eyes staring wide ahead at the blank wall of the room in the darkness. Betty was thinking of the look on the doctor’s face when he had said, “Something real about this place!” Wondering about the doctor, thinking of all the fun he had made for them during the afternoon and evening. Contrasting it with a few experiences in her meager past that she had called “good times.” She was being searched as her bitter, eager young soul had never been searched before. Real things! What were real things? She wished she could know Dr. Sheridan better, dare to call him by his first name, go out with him sometimes, but, of course, that was unthinkable. It wasn’t in the least likely that he would ever think of her again. He was too busy elsewhere and had been hindered from being with others by that call to the country which had made him too late
to get to house parties and things that he would, of course, be invited to. It wasn’t probable that a rising young doctor would choose to spend his Christmas Day in a poor, plain little house on Aster Street if he had been home in time for more interesting places. Yet he had seemed to enjoy himself. Or was it only a rare quality he had for adjusting himself to circumstances? Well, she had had a good time anyway, and she liked him. It was nice to have a memory of such a day even if it never happened again. Maybe he only stayed because he liked to look at her pretty new sister. Of course, they all said she and Marjorie looked alike, but she knew herself that there was something more sophisticated about Marjorie, an air of being to the manner born that she, Betty, did not have, and that no amount of makeup could simulate. In fact, perhaps it only made the lack more apparent.

  And then there had been the way the doctor had acted in that meeting, taking it all so seriously, actually interested in it! Well, it was interesting. She had to own that. She hadn’t been able to disconnect her mind from what was going on the way she usually could in churches—though she hadn’t been to any very often of late. She couldn’t blame Ted for being so devoted. That young minister was very interesting, and very good looking. Though she told herself she preferred the doctor’s type. Gideon Reaver was a little too quiet for her. However, why quarrel with anything that had happened on that wonderful day? Here she was, lying and thinking over differences in mere people that she likely wouldn’t see much again, when she had a wonderful new fur coat and a hat that looked as if it were imported! She, Betty Gay, all rigged up like that, sitting beside a handsome doctor and singing in a church! It was unbelievable!

  But just as she dropped off to sleep there came the words of the chorus she had helped to sing.

  “What did He do? He died for you …” It trailed off vaguely and blended with her dreams. Was it possible that the dying One had really ever thought of Betty Gay, so long ago when He died on Calvary?