"Father," he said in a low voice and there was an almost miraculous change in his expression as he looked down at the lined face. "This is Molly."
The silence that followed could be felt, tense and profound. Two large tears rolled down the old man's cheeks and fell on the blanket. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Suddenly he seemed to be very weary. The sight moved Molly deeply, her violet eyes went to Adam imploringly, then she dropped on her knees beside the chair.
"You're not pleased?" she asked with trembling lips, her eyes swimming with tears.
The old man raised a hand and drew her head down on his lap. His thin hand stroked the blond hair. Molly was vaguely aware that Adam had produced a handkerchief and wiped his father's eyes.
"Is it true, Adam," the shaky voice asked, "you and this girl are married?"
"Quite true, Father. Molly and I were married this afternoon." The positive voice had an effect on the old man. He gave the blond head a final pat and sighed deeply.
Molly raised her head.
"You have my blessing." The black eyes gazed into Molly's and she met them unflinchingly. "Give me your hand, daughter." She obeyed, feeling strangely close to this frail old man who was so like Adam.
"My son is a lucky man, but you are lucky too. Don't forget that. He is the best of his mother and me." He looked fondly at Adam. "There is no finer man than my son."
Molly took the old man's hand and held it to her cheek. The depth of devotion between these two men was incredible, and it was wonderful to see. He had accepted her as a mate for his son. A feeling of complete tranquility settled over her. She sank down on the floor by his knee.
Adam pulled up a chair. Molly could tell that he was pleased with the way his father had warmed to her.
"Now tell me, Adam, how did this come about? How did you persuade this lovely child to marry you?" Molly noted, with satisfaction, the strength that came back in the old man's voice.
Adam told his father the story about the wedding being brought forward due to Charlie's death. Molly was fascinated at his expert handling of the affair. The most amazing thing was that he had not told his father a lie.
What followed was a very pleasant half hour. Molly smiled easily, her eyes going from one man to the other. They included her in their conversation and for the first time since her father's death she had a feeling of belonging. She had an odd premonition, that whatever difficulties lay ahead, she would be glad she had brought peace to this gentle old man who had so little time to live.
After awhile Adam excused himself, saying he would see if Molly's cases had been brought over from the hotel, but he would be back, because they were dining with his father and Aunt Flo. He took Molly's hand, pulled her to her feet, and folded her in his arms. Tenderly, he kissed the corner of her mouth. Molly felt a heady sensation coursing through her body. It was exhilarating, yet disturbing too. Unaware that her eyes were following him as he walked to the door, he left the room.
Molly looked down at Mr. Reneau who was watching her intently.
"You love him, girl?" he asked softly.
Without hesitation, Molly nodded her head. "Yes, I do, very much." Her lips trembled as the words came out.
"Ah…" the old man sighed and settled back in his chair, his face serene.
They talked of many things. It was relaxing here in this room high above the busy street. She told him about the house in the bush and her dog named Dog. He laughed with her about that. She told him of Tim-Two and the moose he hunted each year, of the jars of jam and jellies she canned, and promised on the next trip she would bring him a jar of each along with a loaf of homemade bread to spread them on.
He told her about Adam as a small boy. His determination to win each contest he was in, his stubbornness when he thought he was in the right, his deep desire to be accepted for himself alone and not for his money. He also told her of his grief following the death of his mother when he was a lad of twelve. The old man's eyes glowed when he talked of his son.
Molly felt a small nagging guilt at the deception of their marriage. She was glad she had told the old man she loved Adam. It had come out of her so suddenly and it seemed so right to say it. Adam would never know; she and the old man would share the secret.
The elderly man took his place at the head of the table that evening; Molly on his right, his son on the left. The delicious meal was served by the white-coated man called Ganson. It was obvious servant and master were equally fond of each other. Her eyes misted and the lump in her throat almost choked her when her new father-in-law invited the household help into the dining room to toast his "lovely new daughter." Adam was pleased, his dark eyes going from her to his father.
Later he whispered they should depart, because they would be expected to want to be alone. Molly took her leave of Aunt Flo then went to the old man's chair. Leaning down she placed her young cheek against the wrinkled one and whispered in his ear that she was pleased he had accepted her. He turned his head and placed a kiss on her smooth brow and squeezed her hand.
Feeling almost lighthearted Molly went with Adam to the elevator. Once inside he turned to her with serious concern on his face.
"Don't get too fond of him, Molly. It'll be tough losing two fathers in one year."
"No! Not so soon?"
"I'm afraid so. And, thank you," he said almost humbly. "You played your part well."
Molly was too emotionally shattered to answer.
They stepped out of the elevator into a carpeted hallway. Adam opened the door and waited for her to enter.
"Go in," he directed, his voice noticeably cooler now, as if trying to get back to the business relationship again.
She walked slowly into the room, her heels sinking into the soft carpet. The room was large, but lacked the homey atmosphere of his father's apartment. Comfortable couches and chairs were placed at random around the room and the walls as well as the various tables were decorated with objects he had collected on his trips abroad. Molly was impressed, in spite of herself, and smiled as she noted a priceless vase of Peking jade sitting alongside a hand-carved miniature canoe from his native state.
Adam grinned sheepishly.
"Not exactly Better Homes and Gardens, but it's home."
"It's interesting. I've never seen things like these." Molly looked curiously around the room.
"Go ahead and look," Adam said wearily. "But if you don't mind, I'll have a drink."
She wandered about the room looking at the different objects of his collection. The room was large and although it was filled with a profusion of paintings, porcelains, carvings, minutely patterned tapestries, and a richly colored Persian carpet before the fireplace, it didn't appear to be cluttered.
Presently Adam was beside her, a glass in his hand. She looked from the glass to his face, questioningly.
"It's very weak. You need it after today." He put the drink in her hand, then with his hand in the small of her back urged her over to the couch.
"Sit down and enjoy it." He sank down in the chair opposite, stretched out his long legs, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.
Molly watched him, her senses stirring in spite of herself. He was handsome; his dark features were more relaxed than she had ever seen them. Just looking at him lounging there, his shirt collar open, revealing the smooth brown skin of his throat rising up from the broad muscular chest, the muscles of his thighs firm against the material of his trousers, she felt a warm weakness flooding her system, and the desire to touch him made itself known to her.
She gave herself a mental shake and took a gulp of the drink in her hand. When she looked at him again, the black eyes were open and he was gazing at her. His eyes, narrowed and unreadable behind the heavy lashes, were staring into her violet ones, then dropped to her mouth, then to the rise and fall of her breasts. He sat up suddenly, his eyes darkened. He gulped the rest of his drink and got up to get another.
He returned to his chair.
"This is the first tim
e we've been alone so we can talk." He ran his hand through dark hair in a gesture of resignation. "I meant what I said in the elevator, Molly. Dad won't be with us long."
"I couldn't help but like him. At first I was ashamed of the deception. It was like we were playing a cruel joke, but when I saw how happy he was, well… I was glad." She paused then asked anxiously, "If he has just a… short time, don't you think you should stay here near him?"
"That's one of the things I want to tell you. Dad knows about my research and how much it means to me. He thinks the reason I'm going north is so I can use some of your father's specialized equipment. He has devoted people to care for him here. They've been with him for years and I might add, it's a two-way street. He's devoted to them and looks out for their welfare." He whirled the drink around in his glass and smiled to himself. "My father is a very wealthy man. He pursued his interest, which was manufacturing a pipe that can be used in the polar region. It just happened that he made a lot of money at it. He understands that I'm interested in another field, and I'm lucky because his money makes it possible for me to do the things I want to do without financial pressures." He looked directly at Molly. "If I can be half the man my father is, I'll die happy."
"You love him very much."
"Yes, I do, and I wouldn't insult him by giving up my work and waiting around for him to die." His voice had become husky, and he raked his hand through his thick hair again. "I'll come back once a week to see him. I'll get someone to come stay with you, if it should become necessary to be away overnight. Occasionally you may want to come with me. Dad would enjoy that. But we must be very careful to comply with the terms of Charlie's will. I've the feeling that if your Aunt Dora could get her foot in the door, she would be happy to give us some trouble."
"I'm sure she would," Molly agreed, then asked, "Will Jim take us back?"
"We'll take my plane when we go up this time. I'll have boxes to take and I imagine you'll want to do some shopping."
"The only shopping I want to do is at a yarn shop."
"Knit, do you? Good, you can make me a sweater. Husbands should have top priority." His voice was teasing.
Molly warmed at his use of the word "husband" and teased back, "If I can find the time."
"If the weather gets too bad for the ski plane, I'll have the helicopter come up once a week. It can also come for us anytime Aunt Flo or Ganson thinks it necessary." He stood and stretched his long frame. "Are you tired?" He reached down to grasp her hand and pulled her to her feet. She had kicked off her shoes; he looked down in surprise. "You are a little thing," he said, touching the golden hair coiled on the top of her head. "You don't even come up to my chin."
"Yes, I'm rather short," she said, and added before she thought, "but good things come in small packages."
He threw back his head and laughed. It was the first time she had heard him laugh aloud and the sound was so pleasant that she laughed with him.
"Come on. I'll show you to your room." He led the way into a rather long hallway. "This is my room," he said as they passed the first door. "You use this next one. There are two more bedrooms; my friend, Pat, uses one and my housekeeper the other. She's away now, but when she's here, she helps Aunt Flo while I'm away. Oh, yes, Ganson will come down and fix breakfast for us in the morning. After that, you can do it if you want to. We've got a well-stocked pantry."
"I'd like that. I love to cook."
"I'm glad to hear it. It's going to be a long winter."
They walked into a white and gold bedroom with white carpet and white and gold French provincial furniture. It was beautiful.
"This room isn't used very often."
Molly went to the large bouquet of white roses on the dressing table. She bent her head to smell the sweet fragrance, then raised her violet eyes to Adam.
"Every bride needs a few flowers," he said.
"Thank you. They're beautiful."
"And so were you, Molly. No bride was ever prettier. Someday you'll have a real wedding and all the trappings that go with it." His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and his lips. He turned to go. "Your cases are here. There's a bath through that door. Get a good sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
He went out and closed the door. Molly remained still for a moment. A feeling of disbelief came over her. Here she was… married, and alone on her wedding night. My husband treats me like a little sister, she thought, and it's just as well, for after all, he didn't want to marry me.
She was more exhausted than she realized. She slid into the big bed between the silken sheets, but before she went to sleep, his words came back to her. "It's going to be a long winter." She sighed. It may be a long winter for him. but she had the feeling it would be all too short for her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Molly slept soundly that night. She had no dreams. When she awoke, she lay on her stomach with her eyes closed and listened for any sound coming from the apartment. After awhile she opened her eyes cautiously and looked at her watch. If she got up, now, she would have time for a bath before breakfast. She rolled over and sat up.
Her bare feet loved the feel of the soft carpet as she made her way to the bathroom. The bathtub was a marvel to her; big, square, it would take gallons of water to fill it. She smiled as she thought of the tub at home and the hot water she carried from the reservoir. She bathed, dressed quickly, and left the sanctuary of the bedroom.
In the hall she heard the unmistakable rattle of pots and pans. Cautiously she pushed open the swinging door. Ganson was at the stove and the delicious aroma of frying bacon reached her nostrils.
"Good morning, Mrs. Reneau."
"Mrs. Reneau? You're the first to call me that."
"Yes, ma'am, but that's your name, now."
She had expected to be tongue-tied and had worried about her shyness, hoping she would be able to overcome it enough to keep from making a fool of herself for the few days she was here. But it was easier to talk than she thought it would be. She climbed upon a stool near the table where Ganson was working.
"What do you call Adam?"
"Why, I call Adam, Adam." He grinned at her. "What else would I call that boy? I smacked his butt many times when he was a tadpole. Only one Mr. Reneau in this house and that's Robert."
He set two places at the kitchen table.
"If you call Adam, Adam," Molly said, "you'll have to call me, Molly."
"Well, now, that makes sense, Molly. I'll do just that, but you better go get that lazy husband of yours before the eggs get cold."
Molly got off the stool. She didn't want to go to Adam's room and hesitated before going to the door. It swung open and Adam strolled in. Relief flooded her and the smile she greeted him with was warmer than usual. In cream cotton trousers that clung to his muscular legs and a dark blue shirt laced up the front with cream cords, he looked different from the man who stood with her before the minister yesterday. Her gaze was drawn like a magnet to his face.
"Are you showing her how I like my eggs, Ganson?" he asked with a devilish glitter in his eyes, dropping a light kiss on the top of Molly's head.
"Too late, they're ready." Ganson set two plates on the table and slid two slices of bread in the toaster. "I'll be back to clean up, or I'll send one of the girls down. You don't want me hanging around." He winked at Adam. "Coffee is ready, Molly." He left them.
"Molly… already! You must have made a hit with Ganson. He can be terribly formal unless he takes a liking to you."
"He's nice. Everyone here is. I was afraid I'd be shy and tongue-tied, but they're all so friendly I forget to be shy." She poured the coffee and placed the buttered toast on his plate.
"Almost everyone responds to a nice person. Ever think of that?"
"Yes," she said slowly, thinking of Aunt Dora and her cousins. "But it doesn't always apply," and added almost absently, "I liked your father very much."
"How about his son?"
"I'll have to think about that!" She was acutely conscious that hi
s dark eyes were on her and her heart began to flutter erratically.
He grinned and Molly wished they could be friends. If she was congenial, if she could be a pleasant companion, he might not resent so much having to spend the year with her.
Adam told her he would be away part of the day. He explained he had arrangements to make due to his coming absence from the city.
"By the way," he said as if suddenly remembering, "I put some of my things in your room. Ganson would notice right away that we hadn't spent the night together and think it strange."
Molly could feel the color coming up into her cheeks, and poured coffee to cover her embarrassment.
Later in the morning when she entered the apartment above, Adam's father was waiting for her. They had a short time to visit before Ganson came to tell them lunch was ready.
"Shall I push your chair, Mr. Reneau?"
"What did you call Charlie, girl?" He asked rather gruffly.
"I called him… Dad."
"Then call me Papa," he said firmly.
She smiled down into a wrinkled face with gentle, almost pleading eyes. "Very well, Papa, but let's have lunch, I'm starved." She pushed his chair to the dining room.
Adam returned in the middle of the afternoon. Standing in the doorway of the sitting room, he watched Molly, his father, and Aunt Flo laughing together over an old picture album. His father was talking and suddenly Molly let out a peal of laughter. The old man could hardly keep his eyes from her young face and Adam felt a surge of gratitude. He came across to them and squatted down beside Molly. Her eyes sparkled; her high spirits had brought a flush to her cheeks. She had blossomed astonishingly in the last few days. To her surprise and his, he leaned over and kissed her on her still smiling lips.
"What tales are you telling my wife?" He spoke to his father while still looking at Molly. "It must have been funny."
"Oh, it was," Molly said quickly. "I'm surprised you managed to grow up."
Marriage to a Stranger Page 5