by Linda Hilton
When, as soon as the adult males had departed, Willy began tormenting Julie even further, she sent him on his way as well. The sun was out, the mud had nearly dried, and she could not stand him underfoot another second. She ordered him to find Clancy or someone else and play. Otherwise he would have to help her with the dishes.
Willy, still wearing his Sunday best clothes, left without another word.
Julie trudged upstairs to fetch the tray from Katharine’s room and there found her mother had fallen quite fast asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief and exhaustion, Julie tiptoed out and mumbled a prayer that at least she would get through the chore of dishes of without interruption.
She did. And she used the time alone and undisturbed to sort out the thoughts so jumbled since last night.
She knew she had made a terrible mistake. Overwrought and wrapped in her own insecurities, she hadn’t realized that Morgan might have his own fears. If she had been afraid to make her feelings plain, wasn’t it just possible that he hesitated to reveal his as well? She thought him still in love with his wife and unable to turn to anyone else in the same way; hadn’t she, after all, given him every indication that she was going to marry Hans?
It was a hopeless muddle. She knew, with her hands sunk in hot soapy water, that they had both made the same error. She now saw Morgan’s poetry last night for what it really was: a painful declaration of his deepest emotions. And she, fool that she was, had turned away from him. He had understood her own fears, her unsureness, and had given her the opportunity to make known her feelings without embarrassment to either of them. In her ignorance and guilty pride, she had rejected him.
Suddenly, that feeling that she had only allowed to exist as a vague sort of hope sprang to full strength. Scrubbing at the skillet where bits of ham had stuck and burned fast to the cast iron, she let the knowledge flood from her heart through her whole body. Each pulse beat reminded her that he loved her, just as she loved him. She could go to him now, unafraid, unhesitant.
*
The note tacked to the front door of the office said that there had been an emergency and the doctor would be back by evening if possible. Disappointed, Julie turned away and returned home. She had already been to the adobe house and found it as empty as the office.
Katharine had slept all the while Julie washed dishes and was still asleep when she left to find Morgan. Returning from that failed mission, Julie hoped her mother would waken soon, for such a long nap during the day presaged a sleepless night, and Julie didn’t want that. She planned to be well rested before going to the office first thing in the morning and declaring herself as soon as the doctor arrived. Just the anticipation kept the smile from fading when she entered the unfriendly dimness of her father’s house.
But Katharine continued to snore when Julie checked on her. Perhaps she had taken more sherry to make her sleep, but whatever the cause, Julie knew this rest would keep them both up all night. That thought in itself was almost enough to dampen her soaring spirits, and when she heard her father and Hans enter the house, the last of her joy fled. She could tell them nothing, not yet. Not until she was certain, absolutely positive, about Morgan.
Julie stood at the top of the stairs and raised a finger to her lips when Wilhelm looked her way.
“Ssshhh. Mama is asleep.”
“Then wake her,” Wilhelm barked. “Tell her to come down here now.”
Julie felt her face pale. Something was up, something she knew she should be prepared for and yet wasn’t. Though a few minutes ago she had been confident of the future she was going to make for herself, a tiny niggling doubt had remained. She could not count her single chicken before it was hatched and peeping in her hand.
“Yes, Papa.”
“And be quick about it.”
“I’ll tell Mama to hurry.”
Katharine, of course, did not hurry.
“Oh, Julie, please, let me sleep longer,” she begged first. “My head hurts so bad.”
“Papa insists. Please, Mama, I don’t want him angry again like he was last night. And Hans is here, too. It would be embarrassing if there was another scene.”
And so Katharine managed to drag herself out of the bed with a profusion of groans and moans and long, weary, overly dramatic sighs. She refused, however, to go downstairs until her hair was combed and pinned into a neat chignon—and it had to be done three times before it suited her—and she changed her choice of dress twice before she settled on the peach muslin. In the midst of all this primping, Julie suddenly realized she still wore the shabbiest of her clothes and that the faded brown gingham was now speckled with food and soap stains. Her hair hadn’t been properly combed since last night, and she felt sticky all over with sweat.
She laughed, thinking that she had actually gone to find Morgan and declare him her heart’s desire looking like this.
“Is something wrong, dear?” Katharine queried, giving her daughter a strange look.
“No, Mama. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Well, so am I. Let’s go downstairs and see what it is your father wants now and then I simply must get back to sleep. I can hardly hold my eyes open as it is.”
She yawned delicately to punctuate that claim, then rose from her chair and headed for the landing.
Julie followed her and didn’t bother even to smooth her hair back from her face. She didn’t care what she looked like and almost wished she had her spectacles back.
Hans got clumsily to his feet from the sofa when Katharine entered the parlor, but he was seated already when Julie walked in just a moment later. He slouched forward on the center cushion of the sofa, leaving her to take a place on one side of him or the other, unless she wished to stand. As little as she liked the thought of being so close to him, her legs demanded that she sit. The sofa enfolded her; she could not avoid leaning back and actually relaxing for the first time all day. If Wilhelm had not immediately begun his spiel, she probably would have fallen very quickly asleep.
“Hans and I have reached an agreement,” he said with no preamble. “You will marry him next Sunday.”
“What?”
With total disregard for grace, propriety, or even decent manners, Julie struggled to a more upright position while her father went on.
“I find it necessary for the sake of the family that something be done about your conduct.”
“My conduct? But, Papa, what have I done?”
She glanced at her mother, fully expecting Katharine to swoon, but Katharine merely wiped the back of her hand across her brow and yawned again.
“I saw you last night with him,” Hans blurted out. “You were in your… your nightdress.”
“It was an emergency! Mama needed the doctor and she told me to go without taking time to dress. What else was I to do?”
As though her explanation were so worthless that it need not even be argued, Hans went off on a different tack.
“People are talking about you. They say you go to his house early in the morning.”
She blushed, for she had not thought anyone knew of the two times she had indeed wakened Morgan, but even that did not quell her indignation. She was innocent of any wrong-doing and would not let them make her guilty.
“He was needed to tend to other patients and it was—it is—my job to find him.” She wished there were some way to get away from Hans, for arguing at this close range was very uncomfortable. But she did not want to stand and have all their accusing eyes on her. And it would be too easy then to flee. For the moment, she must bear the burden and wait. Later she would have somewhere to run to.
“Nevertheless,” Wilhelm resumed, “people are talking. I will not have it, Julie, not again. So I have decided. The wedding will be next Sunday.”
“But what about Mama? She’s not well enough to take care of the household alone.”
As if to underscore that statement, Katharine sighed and pressed her fingertips to her temples.
“Please, Wilhelm, I must go back
to bed,” she whined. “Let us hurry this up.”
“You see!” her husband verbally pounced. “That doctor’s treatment has worked no better than any other.”
“But, Papa, she has been getting better.”
“Oh, yes, for a day or two, and then she goes right back to being as sick as ever. She is never going to recover, and there is no sense waiting for a miracle. I will have to engage a nurse to take care of her.”
Julie glanced at her mother then and noted a slight frown pucker Katharine’s brow.
“And where do you think you will find a nurse out here?”
“There is that Tucker woman, the widow with the young boys. I think she would be grateful for a small salary.”
Wilhelm’s attention to details served to discourage Julie slightly, but only for a moment. She knew Liza Tucker.
“And what if Mrs. Tucker finds herself another husband? There aren’t many single women around Plato, Papa, and a lot of single men.” Not very many, but at least one or two.
“Then let it be my worry. You always complain of the work anyway. You act as though your mother’s care is too much a burden on you, though it is all your own fault. Even last night was your fault.”
Last night. She wondered again just exactly what had happened between her parents. Whatever it was, it had caused a total relapse on Katharine’s part, and Julie doubted now more than ever that her mother’s health problems were real. But now was not the time to contemplate that question. More pressing matters were at hand.
Wilhelm did not let her reply to this latest accusation anyway. He continued with cold calm:
“Hans and I have compromised on the matter of your dowry. I have said that I must be compensated for the loss of your services tending your mother, but he insists your reputation is now such that he needs additional payment to make you his wife. I tell you this only so you will be aware of the generosity we are both showing you.”
“Generosity? You call bargaining over me generosity?”
Katharine forestalled Wilhelm’s next argument.
“Sit down, Julie. Your shouting makes my head ache even more,” she begged. Something hard and insistent, not weak and whining, in that plea made Julie obey.
“It is settled. You will be married next Sunday, as Hans and I have agreed. You will spend this week preparing to become his wife. There will be no more working for the doctor. I will so inform him as soon as we finish here.”
“No!” Julie screamed.
Her single cry echoed and re-echoed, then all was silent for a moment.
“Do you dare defy me?” Wilhelm whispered. “Your insolence deserves a beating.”
He had hit her before in fits of anger, but he had never actually beaten her. Yet Julie was not certain he would refrain this time, with Hans there to help him. She was outnumbered and forced herself to accept. There was always tomorrow.
She took several deep breaths, conscious that both Hans and her father stared malevolently at her. She felt a strange prickling along her spine.
“I want to tell him myself,” she said calmly.
Now it was Hans’ turn to shout.
“No! I don’t want you going near him again. I swore to him I would kill him if he touched you again.”
“You did what?”
His blue eyes became pleading, but the desperation in them frightened Julie. His hands grabbed for hers and she reacted too slowly to prevent his clasping them tightly.
“I have wanted you for so long, Julie. You know that. When I saw you with him last night, I swore I would kill him. And I meant it. You are promised to me, and I will hold you to that promise.”
She recovered from this shock and pulled her hands free. They felt bruised and sore—and dirtied.
Gathering all her faltering courage, Julie had a threat of her own to make, for she knew begging would accomplish nothing. Her father and Hans would take advantage of any weakness she displayed. Only if she responded with strength would she get her way.
“And I swear to you, you will let me tell him myself or I will never marry you. I would sooner die.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Julie bathed in the cool of pre-dawn. She had slept some, but very little, and the bath served to refresh and waken her as well as cleanse. She wrapped her hair in a towel and dried her body quickly, knowing it would be less than half an hour before Wilhelm wakened. She had slipped out of the house twice during the night to check for Morgan, but by one o’clock in the morning he had not returned. She had gone home to bed then, for she had to be at the clinic as early as possible to speak to him.
She slipped her arms into the sleeves of Katharine’s robe and then walked out onto the back porch to brush her hair dry. The humidity that had followed Saturday’s storm had disappeared; the dry heat of the desert returned with a vengeance on this last day of July. Julie smiled to herself. Today was her birthday, and she intended to give herself a gift.
She finished with her hair and began to braid it as she usually did, but then she decided to leave it loose. Ted had liked it that way, and maybe Del Morgan would, too. It was longer now than nine years ago, and the soft straight strands fell almost to her knees. She could not remember the last time she had cut it, for she always wore it carefully plaited and coiled. Surely, though, she hadn’t cut it since…since Ted admired it.
The blue batiste blouse replaced the robe, the black buttons shiny even in the half-light of early morning. Julie fastened the new skirt around her waist next, then sat down on the bench at the kitchen table to pull on her stockings and shoes. She would have liked a mirror, but there was none here.
After checking the fire in the stove to be sure it wouldn’t go out before she returned, Julie quietly opened the back door and stepped outside. Though it was doubtful Morgan would be at the office this early, she had to see for herself. He had been gone a good portion of the night and might have brought back a patient. She dared not go to his house, but there was nothing to stop her checking for him at the office. Nothing.
The house between Julie’s and the clinic belonged to the schoolmaster and was vacant a good part of the summer. Julie had no worries about being seen, therefore, when she cut across the back yards and walked up to the rear entrance to the clinic. The pale glimmer of a lamp in the kitchen sent her heart to her throat. Morgan was there.
She knocked tentatively.
He answered the summons almost at once. The sudden sight of him when he had opened the door sent Julie jumping backwards a step or two.
He looked like hell. And he smelled of whisky. His clothes were filthy, his shirt torn almost to rags. The darker stains could only be blood, though they were hard to distinguish from the other smears and splotches. The left knee of his denims flapped a three cornered tear, and the skin showing through was scraped raw. A small cut over his eye had scabbed, but the streaks of blood he had wiped away still marked the side of his face.
He looked at her, all fresh and lovely in that twilight before sunrise, and the bitterness flooded back. Her trousseau blouse, as blue as the sky would be this evening, clung to the body he would never know, only dream about. The tiny waist—he had never noticed how tiny before this moment—and softly curved hips draped the new skirt gracefully. And the hair. God, he had never seen hair like that before. Pale as platinum, it crowned her like a wedding veil without a single wave or curl. A man could run his fingers through it for miles.
“I know it’s awfully early, but I had something I wanted to tell you,” she said before he even had a chance to greet her. “May I come in?”
Her smile was a knife, sparkling and deadly, but he could not resist it. He held the door open while she walked past.
She was radiant, glowing, lit from within by some secret fire, and he knew he had never seen a woman more beautiful. Those enormous eyes captivated him with their glitter of happiness, but the delicious curve of her lips taunted too painfully for him to look at her.
“You don’t need to, Miss Hollstrom.
May I be the first to congratulate you?”
He held out his hand stiffly.
“I met your fiancé on my way home last night. He told me the date is set for next Sunday. I perfectly understand your not coming to work any more, with all the plans you must have. Don’t worry about me; I’ll manage somehow until I find someone else.”
He was smiling. She went numb. He was actually happy for her! A knife turned in her heart when she realized how deluded she had been by her hopes. He didn’t love her; he was merely grateful to her for bringing him back from the depths of despair. She had given him new life, but he was not going to give her love.
“I’m sure you two will be very happy,” she heard him say and wondered how much she had missed. She couldn’t listen to any more of his platitudes. Sick to her stomach, she ran from the kitchen and back to her own house.
*
A knock on the front door less than fifteen minutes after Julie’s abrupt departure brought Morgan out of a dangerous stupor. He had a bottle of whisky in front of him, uncorked. Twice in the last few minutes he had actually raised it to his lips. After yesterday and last night, he needed something. But after seeing Julie, he knew nothing, not all the whisky west of the Mississippi, would drown this agony.
He had spent twelve hours trying to save the victims of a landslide brought on by the storm. One man had been buried up to his chest and had died in excruciating pain when a broken rib finally pierced his heart before anyone could dig him free. Another had been saved only by amputating his arm and leaving it under the pile of rocks and mud. Three companions who had taken shelter under a rocky ledge were buried alive. Their bodies untouched by the slide itself, they had died of suffocation. The two who had escaped and come for the doctor suffered minor injuries in their abortive rescue attempts, including a broken finger, a severely lacerated and bruised shoulder, and a probable concussion. To say nothing of the hangovers they’d have from the whisky they had fortified themselves with throughout the long night. Though Del hadn’t tasted a drop of the liquor, he had inhaled enough fumes to make him half drunk.